File: load

package info (click to toggle)
task 2.5.1%2Bdfsg-3
links: PTS, VCS
area: main
in suites: stretch
size: 6,588 kB
ctags: 8,723
sloc: cpp: 36,161; python: 11,324; perl: 8,697; ansic: 7,400; sh: 673; makefile: 19
file content (8558 lines) | stat: -rwxr-xr-x 1,092,137 bytes
parent folder | download | duplicates (3)
#! /usr/bin/perl

use strict;
use warnings;

if (open my $fh, '>', 'perf.rc')
{
  print $fh "data.location=.\n",
            "color=on\n",
            "_forcecolor=on\n",
            "verbose=label\n",
            "hooks=off\n",
            "color.debug=\n";
  close $fh;
}

# Read all the data.
my $id = 1;
while (my $line = <DATA>)
{
  if ($. % 20 != 19)
  {
    # Names are both projects and tags.
    $line =~ s/([A-Z]{2,})/$1 project:$1 +$1/g;
  }

  if ($. % 20 == 19)
  {
    my $anno_id = $id - 1;
    qx{../src/task rc:perf.rc rc.gc=off $anno_id annotate $line};
    print "[$.] task rc:perf.rc rc.gc=off $anno_id annotate $line\n" if $?;
  }
  elsif ($. % 4 == 1)
  {
    qx{../src/task rc:perf.rc rc.gc=off add $line};
    print "[$.] task rc:perf.rc rc.gc=off add $line\n" if $?;
    ++$id;
  }
  else
  {
    qx{../src/task rc:perf.rc rc.gc=off log $line};
    print "[$.] task rc:perf.rc rc.gc=off log $line\n" if $?;
  }
}

exit 0;

__DATA__
CLEOPATRA  If it be love indeed, tell me how much.
CLEOPATRA  Ill set a bourn how far to be belovd.
ATTENDANT  News, my good lord, from Rome.
CLEOPATRA  Nay, hear them, Antony Fulvia, perchance, is angry, or, who knows If the scarce-bearded Cæsar have not sent His powerful mandate to you, Do this, or this, Take in that kingdom, and enfranchise that, Perform t, or else we damn thee.
CLEOPATRA  Perchance nay, and most like, You must not stay here longer, your dismission Is come from Cæsar, therefore hear it, Antony. Wheres Fulvias process? Cæsars I would say? both? Call in the messengers. As I am Egypts queen, Thou blushest, Antony, and that blood of thine Is Cæsars homager, else so thy cheek pays shame When shrill-tongud Fulvia scolds. The messengers
Embracing.  And such a twain can do t, in which I bind, On pain of punishment, the world to weet We stand up peerless.
CLEOPATRA  Excellent falsehood Why did he marry Fulvia and not love her? Ill seem the fool I am not, Antony Will be himself.
CLEOPATRA  Hear the ambassadors.
DEMETRIUS  Is Cæsar with Antonius prizd so slight?
PHILO  Sir, sometimes, when he is not Antony, He comes too short of that great property Which still should go with Antony.
DEMETRIUS  I am full sorry That he approves the common liar, who Thus speaks of him at Rome, but I will hope Of better deeds to-morrow. Rest you happy
CHARMIAN  Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, most any thing Alexas, almost most absolute Alexas, wheres the soothsayer that you praised so to the queen? O that I knew this husband, which, you say, must charge his horns with garlands.
ALEXAS  Soothsayer
SOOTHSAYER  Your will?
CHARMIAN  Is this the man? Ist you, sir, that know things?
SOOTHSAYER  In natures infinite book of secrecy A little I can read.
ALEXAS  Show him your hand.
ENOBARBUS  Bring in the banquet quickly, wine enough Cleopatras health to drink.
CHARMIAN  Good sir, give me good fortune.
SOOTHSAYER  I make not, but foresee.
CHARMIAN  Pray then, foresee me one.
SOOTHSAYER  You shall be yet far fairer than you are.
CHARMIAN  He means in flesh.
IRAS  No, you shall paint when you are old.
CHARMIAN  Wrinkles forbid
ALEXAS  Vex not his prescience, be attentive.
CHARMIAN  Hush
SOOTHSAYER  You shall be more beloving than belovd.
CHARMIAN  I had rather heat my liver with drinking.
ALEXAS  Nay, hear him.
CHARMIAN  Good now, some excellent fortune Let me be married to three kings in a forenoon, and widow them all, let me have a child at fifty, to whom Herod of Jewry may do homage, find me to marry me with Octavius Cæsar, and companion me with my mistress.
SOOTHSAYER  You shall outlive the lady whom you serve.
CHARMIAN  O excellent I love long life better than figs.
SOOTHSAYER  You have seen and provd a fairer former fortune Than that which is to approach.
CHARMIAN  Then, belike, my children shall have no names, prithee, how many boys and wenches must I have?
SOOTHSAYER  If every of your wishes had a womb, And fertile every wish, a million.
CHARMIAN  Out, fool I forgive thee for a witch.
ALEXAS  You think none but your sheets are privy to your wishes.
CHARMIAN  Nay, come, tell Iras hers.
ALEXAS  Well know all our fortunes.
ENOBARBUS  Mine, and most of our fortunes, to-night, shall be,—drunk to bed.
IRAS  Theres a palm presages chastity, if nothing else.
CHARMIAN  Een as the overflowing Nilus presageth famine.
IRAS  Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot soothsay.
CHARMIAN  Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruitful prognostication, I cannot scratch mine ear. Prithee, tell her but a worky-day fortune.
SOOTHSAYER  Your fortunes are alike.
IRAS  But how? but how? give me particulars.
SOOTHSAYER  I have said.
IRAS  Am I not an inch of fortune better than she?
CHARMIAN  Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better than I, where would you choose it?
IRAS  Not in my husbands nose.
CHARMIAN  Our worser thoughts heaven mend Alexas,—come, his fortune, his fortune. O let him marry a woman that cannot go, sweet Isis, I beseech thee, and let her die too, and give him a worse, and let worse follow worse, till the worst of all follow him laughing to his grave, fifty-fold a cuckold Good Isis, hear me this prayer, though thou deny me a matter of more weight, good Isis, I beseech thee
IRAS  Amen. Dear goddess, hear that prayer of the people for, as it is a heart-breaking to see a handsome man loose-wived, so it is a deadly sorrow to behold a foul knave uncuckolded therefore, dear Isis, keep decorum, and fortune him accordingly
CHARMIAN  Amen.
ALEXAS  Lo, now if it lay in their hands to make me acuckold, they would make themselves whores, but theyd dot
ENOBARBUS  Hush here comes Antony.
CHARMIAN  Not he, the queen.
CLEOPATRA  Saw you my lord?
ENOBARBUS  No, lady.
CLEOPATRA  Was he not here?
CHARMIAN  No, madam.
CLEOPATRA  He was disposd to mirth, but on the sudden A Roman thought hath struck him. Enobarbus
ENOBARBUS  Madam
CLEOPATRA  Seek him, and bring him hither. Wheres Alexas?
ALEXAS  Here, at your service. My lord approaches.
CLEOPATRA  We will not look upon him, go with us.
MESSENGER  Fulvia thy wife first came into the field.
MESSENGER  Ay But soon that war had end, and the times state Made friends of them, jointing their force gainst Cæsar, Whose better issue in the war, from Italy Upon the first encounter drave them.
MESSENGER  The nature of bad news infects the teller.
MESSENGER  Labienus— This is stiff news—hath, with his Parthian force Extended Asia, from Euphrates His conquering banner shook from Syria To Lydia and to Ionia whilst—
MESSENGER  O my lord.
MESSENGER  At your noble pleasure.
ATTENDANT1  The man from Sicyon, is there such an one?
ATTENDANT2  He stays upon your will.
MESSENGER2  Fulvia thy wife is dead.
MESSENGER2  In Sicyon Her length of sickness, with what else more serious Importeth thee to know, this bears.
ENOBARBUS  Whats your pleasure, sir?
ENOBARBUS  Why, then, we kill all our women. We see how mortal an unkindness is to them, if they suffer our departure, deaths the word.
ENOBARBUS  Under a compelling occasion let women die, it were pity to cast them away for nothing, though between them and a great cause they should be esteemed nothing. Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of this, dies instantly, I have seen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment. I do think there is mettle in death which commits some loving act upon her, she hath such a celerity in dying.
ENOBARBUS  Alack sir, no, her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love. We cannot call her winds and waters sighs and tears, they are greater storms and tempests than almanacs can report this cannot be cunning in her, if it be, she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove.
ENOBARBUS  O, sir you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of work which not to have been blessed withal would have discredited your travel.
ENOBARBUS  Sir?
ENOBARBUS  Fulvia
ENOBARBUS  Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. When it pleaseth their de ties to take the wife of a man from him, it shows to man the tailors of the earth, comforting therein, that when old robes are worn out, there are members to make new. If there were no more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut, and the case to be lamented this grief is crowned with consolation, your old smock brings forth a new petticoat, and indeed the tears live in an onion that should water this sorrow.
ENOBARBUS  And the business you have broached here cannot be without you, especially that of Cleopatras, which wholly depends on your abode.
ENOBARBUS  I shall do it.
CLEOPATRA  Where is he?
CHARMIAN  I did not see him since.
CLEOPATRA  See where he is, whos with him, what he does, I did not send you if you find him sad, Say I am dancing, if in mirth, report That I am sudden sick quick, and return.
CHARMIAN  Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly, You do not hold the method to enforce The like from him.
CLEOPATRA  What should I do I do not?
CHARMIAN  In each thing give him way, cross him in nothing.
CLEOPATRA  Thou teachest like a fool, the way to lose him.
CHARMIAN  Tempt him not so too far, I wish, forbear In time we hate that which we often fear. But here comes Antony.
CLEOPATRA  I am sick and sullen.
CLEOPATRA  Help me away, dear Charmian, I shall fall It cannot be thus long, the sides of nature Will not sustain it.
CLEOPATRA  Pray you, stand further from me.
CLEOPATRA  I know, by that same eye, theres some good news. What says the married woman? You may go Would she had never given you leave to come Let her not say tis I that keep you here, I have no power upon you, hers you are.
CLEOPATRA  O never was there queen So mightily betrayd, yet at the first I saw the treasons planted.
CLEOPATRA  Why should I think you can be mine and true, Though you in swearing shake the throned gods, Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness, To be entangled with those mouth-made vows, Which break themselves in swearing
CLEOPATRA  Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your going, But bid farewell, and go when you sud staying Then was the time for words, no going then Eternity was in our lips and eyes, Bliss in our brows bent, none our parts so poor But was a race of heaven, they are so still, Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world, Art turnd the greatest liar.
CLEOPATRA  I would I had thy inches, thou shouldst know There were a heart in Egypt.
CLEOPATRA  Though age from folly could not give me freedom, It does from childishness can Fulvia die?
CLEOPATRA  O most false love Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see, In Fulvias death, how mine receivd shall be.
CLEOPATRA  Cut my lace, Charmian, come, But let it be I am quickly ill, and well, So Antony loves.
CLEOPATRA  So Fulvia told me. I prithee, turn aside and weep for her, Then bid adieu to me, and say the tears Belong to Egypt good now, play one scene Of excellent dissembling, and let it look Like perfect honour.
CLEOPATRA  You can do better yet, but this is meetly.
CLEOPATRA  And target. Still he mends, But this is not the best. Look, prithee, Charmian, How this Herculean Roman does become The carriage of his chafe.
CLEOPATRA  Courteous lord, one word. Sir, you and I must part, but that s not it Sir, you and I have lovd, but there s not it, That you know well something it is I would,— O my oblivion is a very Antony, And I am all forgotten.
CLEOPATRA  Tis sweating labour To bear such idleness so near the heart As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me, Since my becomings kill me when they do not Eye well to you your honour calls you hence, Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly, And all the gods go with you Upon your sword Sit laurel victory and smooth success Be strewd before your feet
CÆSAR  You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know, It is not Cæsars natural vice to hate Our great competitor. From Alexandria This is the news he fishes, drinks, and wastes The lamps of night in revel, is not more manlike Than Cleopatra, nor the queen of Ptolemy More womanly than he, hardly gave audience, or Vouchsafd to think he had partners you shall find there A man who is the abstract of all faults That all men follow.
LEPIDUS  I must not think there are Evils enow to darken all his goodness, His faults in him seem as the spots of heaven, More fiery by nights blackness, hereditary Rather than purchasd, what he cannot change Than what he chooses.
CÆSAR  You are too indulgent. Let us grant it is not Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy, To give a kingdom for a mirth, to sit And keep the turn of tippling with a slave, To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet With knaves that smell of sweat, say this becomes him,— As his composure must be rare indeed Whom these things cannot blemish,—yet must Antony No way excuse his soils, when we do bear So great weight in his lightness. If he filld His vacancy with his voluptuousness, Full surfeits and the dryness of his bones Call on him for t, but to confound such time That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud As his own state and ours, tis to be chid As we rate boys, who, being mature in knowledge, Pawn their experience to their present pleasure, And so rebel to judgment.
LEPIDUS  Heres more news.
MESSENGER  Thy biddings have been done, and every hour, Most noble Cæsar, shalt thou have report How tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea, And it appears he is belovd of those That only have feard Cæsar, to the ports The discontents repair, and mens reports Give him much wrongd.
CÆSAR  I should have known no less. It hath been taught us from the primal state, That he which is was wishd until he were, And the ebbd man, neer lovd till neer worth love, Comes deard by being lackd. This common body, Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream, Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide, To rot itself with motion.
MESSENGER  Cæsar, I bring thee word, Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates, Make the sea serve them, which they ear and wound With keels of every kind many hot inroads They make in Italy, the borders maritime Lack blood to think ont, and flush youth revolt, No vessel can peep forth, but tis as soon Taken as seen, for Pompeys name strikes more Than could his war resisted.
CÆSAR  Antony, Leave thy lascivious wassails. When thou once Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slewst Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel Did famine follow, whom thou foughtst against, Though daintily brought up, with patience more Than savages could suffer, thou didst drink The stale of horses and the gilded puddle Which beasts would cough at, thy palate then did deign The roughest berry on the rudest hedge, Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets, The barks of trees thou browsedst, on the Alps It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh, Which some did die to look on, and all this— It wounds thy honour that I speak it now— Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek So much as lankd not.
LEPIDUS  Tis pity of him.
CÆSAR  Let his shames quickly Drive him to Rome. Tis time we twain Did show ourselves i the field, and to that end Assemble me immediate council, Pompey Thrives in our idleness.
LEPIDUS  To-morrow, Cæsar, I shall be furnishd to inform you rightly Both what by sea and land I can be able To front this present time.
CÆSAR  Till which encounter, It is my business too. Farewell.
LEPIDUS  Farewell, my lord. What you shall know meantime Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir, To let me be partaker.
CÆSAR  Doubt not, sir, I knew it for my bond.
CLEOPATRA  Charmian
CHARMIAN  Madam
CLEOPATRA  Ha, ha Give me to drink mandragora.
CHARMIAN  Why, madam?
CLEOPATRA  That I might sleep out this great gap of time My Antony is away.
CHARMIAN  You think of him too much.
CLEOPATRA  O tis treason.
CHARMIAN  Madam, I trust, not so.
CLEOPATRA  Thou, eunuch Mardian
MARDIAN  What s your highness pleasure?
CLEOPATRA  Not now to hear thee sing, I take no pleasure In aught a eunuch has. Tis well for thee, That, being unseminard, thy freer thoughts May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections?
MARDIAN  Yes, gracious madam.
CLEOPATRA  Indeed
MARDIAN  Not in deed, madam, for I can do nothing But what in deed is honest to be done, Yet have I fierce affections, and think What Venus did with Mars.
CLEOPATRA  O Charmian Where thinkst thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he? Or does he walk? or is he on his horse? O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony Do bravely, horse, for wotst thou whom thou movst? The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm And burgonet of men. Hes speaking now, Or murmuring Wheres my serpent of old Nile? For so he calls me. Now I feed myself With most delicious poison. Think on me, That am with Phœbus amorous pinches black, And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Cæsar, When thou wast here above the ground I was A morsel for a monarch, and great Pompey Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow, There would he anchor his aspect and die With looking on his life.
ALEXAS  Sovereign of Egypt, hail
CLEOPATRA  How much unlike art thou Mark Antony Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath With his tinct gilded thee. How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?
ALEXAS  Last thing he did, dear queen, He kissd, the last of many doubled kisses, This orient pearl. His speech sticks in my heart.
CLEOPATRA  Mine ear must pluck it thence.
ALEXAS  Good friend, quoth he, Say, the firm Roman to great Egypt sends This treasure of an oyster, at whose foot, To mend the petty present, I will piece Her opulent throne with kingdoms, all the east, Say thou, shall call her mistress. So he nodded, And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed, Who neighd so high that what I would have spoke Was beastly dumbd by him.
CLEOPATRA  What was he sad or merry?
ALEXAS  Like to the time o the year between the extremes Of hot and cold, he was nor sad nor merry.
CLEOPATRA  O well-divided disposition Note him, Note him, good Charmian, tis the man, but note him He was not sad, for he would shire on those That make their looks by his, he was not merry, Which seemd to tell them his remembrance lay In Egypt with his joy, but between both O heavenly mingle Best thou sad or merry, The violence of either thee becomes, So does it no man else. Mettst thou my posts?
ALEXAS  Ay, madam, twenty several messengers. Why do you send so thick?
CLEOPATRA  Whos born that day When I forget to send to Antony, Shall die a beggar. Ink and paper, Charmian. Welcome, my good Alexas. Did I, Charmian, Ever love Cæsar so?
CHARMIAN  O that brave Cæsar.
CLEOPATRA  Be chokd with such another emphasis Say the brave Antony.
CHARMIAN  The valiant Cæsar
CLEOPATRA  By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth, If thou with Cæsar paragon again My man of men.
CHARMIAN  By your most gracious pardon, I sing but after you.
CLEOPATRA  My salad days, When I was green in judgment, cold in blood, To say as I said then But come, away, Get me ink and paper He shall have every day a several greeting, Or Ill unpeople Egypt.
POMPEIUS  If the great gods be just, they shall assist The deeds of justest men.
MENECRATES  Know, worthy Pompey, That what they do delay, they not deny.
POMPEIUS  Whiles we are suitors to their throne, decays The thing we sue for.
MENECRATES  We, ignorant of ourselves, Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers Deny us for our good, so find we profit By losing of our prayers.
POMPEIUS  I shall do well The people love me, and the sea is mine, My powers are crescent, and my auguring hope Says it will come to the full. Mark Antony In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make No wars without doors, Cæsar gets money where He loses hearts, Lepidus flatters both, Of both is flatterd, but he neither loves, Nor either cares for him.
MENAS  Cæsar and Lepidus Are in the field, a mighty strength they carry.
POMPEIUS  Where have you this? tis false.
MENAS  From Silvius, sir.
POMPEIUS  He dreams, I know they are in Rome together, Looking for Antony. But all the charms of love, Salt Cleopatra, soften thy wand lip Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts, Keep his brain fuming, Epicurean cooks Sharpen with cloyless sance his appetite, That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour Even till a Lethed dulness
VARRIUS  This is most certain that I shall deliver Mark Antony is every hour in Rome Expected, since he went from Egypt tis A space for further travel.
POMPEIUS  I could have given less matter A better ear. Menas, I did not think This amorous surfeiter would have donnd his helm For such a petty war, his soldiership Is twice the other twain. But let us rear The higher our opinion, that our stirring Can from the lap of Egypts widow pluck The neer-lust-wearied Antony.
MENAS  I cannot hope Cæsar and Antony shall well greet together, His wife thats dead did trespasses to Cæsar, His brother warrd upon him, although I think Not movd by Antony.
POMPEIUS  I know not, Menas, How lesser enmities may give way to greater. Were t not that we stand up against them all Twere pregnant they should square between themselves, For they have entertained cause enough To draw their swords, but how the fear of us May cement their divisions and bind up The petty difference, we yet not know. Be it as our gods will have t It only stands Our lives upon, to use our strongest hands. Come, Menas.
LEPIDUS  Good Enobarbus, tis a worthy deed, And shall become you well, to entreat your captain To soft and gentle speech.
ENOBARBUS  I shall entreat him To answer like himself if Cæsar move him, Let Antony look over Cæsars head, And speak as loud as Mars. By Jupiter, Were I the wearer of Antonius beard, I would not shave t to-day.
LEPIDUS  Tis not a time For private stomaching.
ENOBARBUS  Every time Serves for the matter that is then born in t.
LEPIDUS  But small to greater matters must give way.
ENOBARBUS  Not if the small come first.
LEPIDUS  Your speech is passion, But, pray you, stir no embers up. Here comes The noble Antony.
ENOBARBUS  And yonder, Cæsar.
CÆSAR  I do not know, Mecænas, ask Agrippa.
LEPIDUS  Noble friends, That which combind us was most great, and let not A leaner action rend us. Whats amiss, May it be gently heard, when we debate Our trivial difference loud, we do commit Murder in healing wounds, then, noble partners,— The rather for I earnestly beseech,— Touch you the sourest points with sweetest terms, Nor curstness grow to the matter.
CÆSAR  Welcome to Rome.
CÆSAR  Sit.
CÆSAR  Nay, then.
CÆSAR  I must be laughd at If, or for nothing or a little, I Should say myself offended, and with you Chiefly i the world, more laughd at that I should Once name you derogately, when to sound your name It not concernd me.
CÆSAR  No more than my residing here at Rome Might be to you in Egypt, yet, if you there Did practise on my state, your being in Egypt Might be my question.
CÆSAR  You may be pleasd to catch at mine intent By what did here befall me. Your wife and brother Made wars upon me, and their contestation Was theme for you, you were the word of war.
CÆSAR  You praise yourself By laying defects of judgment to me, but You patchd up your excuses.
ENOBARBUS  Would we had all such wives, that the men might go to wars with the women
CÆSAR  I wrote to you When rioting in Alexandria, you Did pocket up my letters, and with taunts Did gibe my missive out of audience.
CÆSAR  You have broken The article of your oath, which you shall never Have tongue to charge me with.
LEPIDUS  Soft, Cæsar
CÆSAR  To lend me arms and aid when I requird them, The which you both denied.
LEPIDUS  Tis noble spoken.
MECÆNAS  If it might please you, to enforce no further The griefs between ye to forget them quite Were to remember that the present need Speaks to atone you.
LEPIDUS  Worthily spoken, Mecænas.
ENOBARBUS  Or, if you borrow one anothers love for the instant, you may, when you hear no more words of Pompey, return it again you shall have time to wrangle in when you have nothing else to do.
ENOBARBUS  That truth should be silent I had almost forgot.
ENOBARBUS  Go to, then, your considerate stone.
CÆSAR  I do not much dislike the matter, but The manner of his speech, for it cannot be We shall remain in friendship, our conditions So differing in their acts. Yet, if I knew What hoop should hold us stanch, from edge to edge O the world I would pursue it.
AGRIPPA  Give me leave, Cæsar.
CÆSAR  Speak, Agrippa.
AGRIPPA  Thou hast a sister by the mothers side, Admird Octavia, great Mark Antony Is now a widower.
CÆSAR  Say not so, Agrippa If Cleopatra heard you, your reproof Were well deservd of rashness.
AGRIPPA  To hold you in perpetual amity, To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts With an unslipping knot, take Antony Octavia to his wife, whose beauty claims No worse a husband than the best of men, Whose virtue and whose general graces speak That which none else can utter. By this marriage, All little jealousies which now seem great, And all great fears which now import their dangers, Would then be nothing, truths would be but tales Where now half tales be truths, her love to both Would each to other and all loves to both Draw after her. Pardon what I have spoke, For tis a studied, not a present thought, By duty ruminated.
CÆSAR  Not till he hears how Antony is touchd With what is spoke already.
CÆSAR  The power of Cæsar, and His power unto Octavia.
CÆSAR  There is my hand. A sister I bequeath you, whom no brother Did ever love so dearly, let her live To join our kingdoms and our hearts, and never Fly off our loves again
LEPIDUS  Happily, amen
LEPIDUS  Time calls upon s Of us must Pompey presently be sought, Or else he seeks out us.
CÆSAR  About the Mount Misenum.
CÆSAR  Great and increasing, but by sea He is an absolute master.
CÆSAR  With most gladness, And do invite you to my sisters view, Whither straight Ill lead you.
LEPIDUS  Noble Antony, Not sickness should detain me.
MECÆNAS  Welcome from Egypt, sir.
ENOBARBUS  Half the heart of Cæsar, worthy Mecænas My honourable friend, Agrippa
AGRIPPA  Good Enobarbus
MECÆNAS  We have cause to be glad that matters are so well digested. You stayed well by t in Egypt.
ENOBARBUS  Ay, sir, we did sleep day out of countenance, and made the night light with drinking.
MECÆNAS  Eight wild boars roasted whole at a breakfast, and but twelve persons there, is this true?
ENOBARBUS  This was but as a fly by an eagle, we had much more monstrous matter of feast, which worthily deserved noting.
MECÆNAS  Shes a most triumphant lady, if report be square to her.
ENOBARBUS  When she first met Mark Antony she pursed up his heart, upon the river of Cydnus.
AGRIPPA  There she appeared indeed, or my reporter devised well for her.
ENOBARBUS  I will tell you. The barge she sat in, like a burnishd throne, Burnd on the water, the poop was beaten gold, Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that The winds were love-sick with them, the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, It beggard all description, she did lie In her pavilion,—cloth-of-gold of tissue,— Oer-picturing that Venus where we see The fancy outwork nature, on each side her Stood pretty-dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, With divers-colourd fans, whose wind did seem To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool, And what they undid did.
AGRIPPA  O rare for Antony.
ENOBARBUS  Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides, So many mermaids, tended her i the eyes, And made their bends adornings, at the helm A seeming mermaid steers, the silken tackle Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands, That yarely frame the office. From the barge A strange invisible perfume hits the sense Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast Her people out upon her, and Antony, Enthrond i the market-place, did sit alone, Whistling to the air, which, but for vacancy, Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too And made a gap in nature.
AGRIPPA  Rare Egyptian
ENOBARBUS  Upon her landing, Antony sent to her, Invited her to supper, she replied It should be better he became her guest, Which she entreated. Our courteous Antony, Whom neer the word of No woman heard speak, Being barberd ten times oer, goes to the feast, And, for his ordinary pays his heart For what his eyes eat only.
AGRIPPA  Royal wench She made great Cæsar lay his sword to bed, He ploughd her, and she croppd.
ENOBARBUS  I saw her once Hop forty paces through the public street, And having lost her breath, she spoke, and panted That she did make defect perfection, And, breathless, power breathe forth.
MECÆNAS  Now Antony must leave her utterly.
ENOBARBUS  Never, he will not Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety, other women cloy The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry Where most she satisfies, for vilest things Become themselves in her, that the holy priests Bless her when she is riggish.
MECÆNAS  If beauty, wisdom, modesty, can settle The heart of Antony, Octavia is A blessed lottery to him.
AGRIPPA  Let us go. Good Enobarbus, make yourself my guest Whilst you abide here.
ENOBARBUS  Humbly, sir, I thank you.
OCTAVIA  All which time Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers To them for you.
OCTAVIA  Good night, sir.
CÆSAR  Good night.
SOOTHSAYER  Would I had never come from thence, nor you Thither
SOOTHSAYER  I see it in My motion, have it not in my tongue but yet Hie you to Egypt again.
SOOTHSAYER  Cæsars. Therefore, O Antony stay not by his side, Thy demon—thats thy spirit which keeps thee,—is Noble, courageous, high, unmatchable, Where Cæsars is not, but near him thy angel Becomes a fear, as being oerpowerd, therefore Make space enough between you.
SOOTHSAYER  To none but thee, no more but when to thee. If thou dost play with him at any game Thou art sure to lose, and, of that natural luck, He beats thee gainst the odds, thy lustre thickens When he shines by. I say again, thy spirit Is all afraid to govern thee near him, But he away, tis noble.
LEPIDUS  Trouble yourselves no further, pray you hasten Your generals after.
AGRIPPA  Sir, Mark Antony Will een but kiss Octavia, and well follow.
LEPIDUS  Till I shall see you in your soldiers dress, Which will become you both, farewell.
MECÆNAS  We shall, As I conceive the journey, be at the Mount Before you, Lepidus.
LEPIDUS  Your way is shorter, My purposes to draw me much about You ll win two days upon me.
MECÆNAS  Sir, good success
AGRIPPA  Sir, good success
LEPIDUS  Farewell.
CLEOPATRA  Give me some music, music, moody food Of us that trade in love.
ATTENDANT  The music, ho
CLEOPATRA  Let it alone, let s to billiards come, Charmian.
CHARMIAN  My arm is sore, best play with Mardian.
CLEOPATRA  As well a woman with a eunuch playd As with a woman. Come, you ll play with me, sir?
MARDIAN  As well as I can, madam.
CLEOPATRA  And when good will is showd, thought come too short, The actor may plead pardon. I ll none now. Give me mine angle, well to the river there— My music playing far off—I will betray Tawny-finnd fishes, my bended hook shall pierce Their slimy jaws, and, as I draw them up, Ill think them every one an Antony, And say, Ah, ha youre caught.
CHARMIAN  Twas merry when You wagerd on your angling, when your diver Did hang a salt-fish on his hook, which he With fervency drew up.
MESSENGER  Madam, madam,—
CLEOPATRA  Antonys dead if thou say so, villain, Thou killst thy mistress, but well and free, If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here My bluest veins to kiss, a hand that kings Have lippd, and trembled kissing.
MESSENGER  First, madam, he is well.
CLEOPATRA  Why, theres more gold. But, sirrah, mark, we use To say the dead are well bring it to that, The gold I give thee will I melt, and pour Down thy ill-uttering throat.
MESSENGER  Good madam, hear me.
CLEOPATRA  Well, go to, I will, But theres no goodness in thy face, if Antony Be free and healthful, so tart a favour To trumpet such good tidings if not well, Thou shouldst come like a Fury crownd with snakes, Not like a formal man.
MESSENGER  Willt please you hear me?
CLEOPATRA  I have a mind to strike thee ere thou speakst Yet, if thou say Antony lives, is well, Or friends with Cæsar, or not captive to him, Ill set thee in a shower of gold, and hail Rich pearls upon thee.
MESSENGER  Madam, hes well.
CLEOPATRA  Well said.
MESSENGER  And friends with Cæsar.
CLEOPATRA  Thourt an honest man.
MESSENGER  Cæsar and he are greater friends than ever.
CLEOPATRA  Make thee a fortune from me.
MESSENGER  But yet, madam,—
CLEOPATRA  I do not like but yet, it does allay The good precedence, fie upon but yet But yet is as a gaoler to bring forth Some monstrous malefactor. Prithee, friend, Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear, The good and bad together. Hes friends with Cæsar, In state of health, thou sayst, and thou sayst, free.
MESSENGER  Free, madam no, I made no such report Hes bound unto Octavia.
CLEOPATRA  For what good turn?
MESSENGER  For the best turn i the bed.
CLEOPATRA  I am pale, Charmian
MESSENGER  Madam, hes married to Octavia.
CLEOPATRA  The most infectious pestilence upon thee
MESSENGER  Good madam, patience.
MESSENGER  Gracious madam, I, that do bring the news made not the match.
CLEOPATRA  Say tis not so, a province I will give thee, And make thy fortunes proud, the blow thou hadst Shall make thy peace for moving me to rage, And I will boot thee with what gift beside Thy modesty can beg.
MESSENGER  Hes married, madam.
CLEOPATRA  Rogue thou hast livd too long.
MESSENGER  Nay, then Ill run. What mean you, madam? I have made no fault.
CHARMIAN  Good madam, keep yourself within yourself, The man is innocent.
CLEOPATRA  Some innocents scape not the thunderbolt. Melt Egypt into Nile and kindly creatures Turn all to serpents Call the slave again Though I am mad, I will not bite him. Call.
CHARMIAN  He is afeard to come.
MESSENGER  I have done my duty.
CLEOPATRA  Is he married? I cannot hate thee worser than I do If thou again say Yes.
MESSENGER  Hes married, madam.
CLEOPATRA  The gods confound thee dost thou hold there still?
MESSENGER  Should I lie, madam?
CLEOPATRA  O I would thou didst, So half my Egypt were submergd and made A cistern for scald snakes. Go, get thee hence, Hadst thou Narcissus in thy face, to me Thou wouldst appear most ugly. He is married?
MESSENGER  I crave your highness pardon.
CLEOPATRA  He is married?
MESSENGER  Take no offence that I would not offend you, To punish me for what you make me do Seems much unequal, hes married to Octavia.
CLEOPATRA  O that his fault should make a knave of thee, That art not what thourt sure of. Get thee hence, The merchandise which thou hast brought from Rome Are all too dear for me, lie they upon thy hand And be undone by em
CHARMIAN  Good your highness, patience.
CLEOPATRA  In praising Antony I have dispraisd Cæsar.
CHARMIAN  Many times, madam.
POMPEIUS  Your hostages I have, so have you mine, And we shall talk before we fight.
CÆSAR  Most meet That first we come to words, and therefore have we Our written purposes before us sent, Which if thou hast considerd, let us know If twill tie up thy discontented sword, And carry back to Sicily much tall youth That else must perish here.
POMPEIUS  To you all three, The senators alone of this great world, Chief factors for the gods, I do not know Wherefore my father should revengers want, Having a son and friends, since Julius Cæsar, Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted, There saw you labouring for him. What was t That movd pale Cassius to conspire? and what Made the all-honourd, honest Roman, Brutus, With the armd rest, courtiers of beauteous freedom, To drench the Capitol, but that they would Have one man but a man? And that is it Hath made me rig my navy, at whose burden The angerd ocean foams, with which I meant To scourge the ingratitude that despiteful Rome Cast on my noble father.
CÆSAR  Take your time.
POMPEIUS  At land, indeed, Thou dost oer-count me of my fathers house, But, since the cuckoo builds not for himself, Remain in t as thou mayst.
LEPIDUS  Be pleasd to tell us— For this is from the present—how you take The offers we have sent you.
CÆSAR  Theres the point.
CÆSAR  And what may follow, To try a larger fortune.
POMPEIUS  You have made me offer Of Sicily, Sardinia, and I must Rid all the sea of pirates, then, to send Measures of wheat to Rome, this greed upon, To part with unhackd edges, and bear back Our targets undinted.
CÆSAR  Thats our offer.
LEPIDUS  Thats our offer.
POMPEIUS  Know, then, I came before you here a man prepard To take this offer, but Mark Antony Put me to some impatience. Though I lose The praise of it by telling, you must know, When Cæsar and your brother were at blows, Your mother came to Sicily and did find Her welcome friendly.
POMPEIUS  Let me have your hand I did not think, sir, to have met you here.
CÆSAR  Since I saw you last, There is a change upon you.
POMPEIUS  Well, I know not What counts harsh Fortune casts upon my face, But in my bosom shall she never come To make my heart her vassal.
LEPIDUS  Well met here.
POMPEIUS  I hope so, Lepidus. Thus we are agreed. I crave our composition may be written And seald between us.
CÆSAR  That s the next to do.
POMPEIUS  Well feast each other ere we part, and lets Draw lots who shall begin.
POMPEIUS  No, Antony, take the lot But, first or last, your fine Egyptian cookery Shall have the fame. I have heard that Julius Cæsar Grew fat with feasting there.
POMPEIUS  I have fair meanings, sir.
POMPEIUS  Then, so much have I heard, And I have heard Apollodorus carried—
ENOBARBUS  No more of that he did so.
POMPEIUS  What, I pray you?
ENOBARBUS  A certain queen to Cæsar in a mattress.
POMPEIUS  I know thee now, how farst thou, soldier?
ENOBARBUS  Well, And well am like to do, for I perceive Four feasts are toward.
POMPEIUS  Let me shake thy hand, I never hated thee. I have seen thee fight, When I have envied thy behaviour.
ENOBARBUS  Sir, I never lovd you much, but I ha praisd ye When you have well deservd ten times as much As I have said you did.
POMPEIUS  Enjoy thy plainness, It nothing ill becomes thee. Aboard my galley I invite you all Will you lead, lords?
CÆSAR  Show us the way, sir.
LEPIDUS  Show us the way, sir.
POMPEIUS  Come.
MENAS  Thy father, Pompey, would neer have made this treaty. You and I have known, sir.
ENOBARBUS  At sea, I think.
MENAS  We have, sir.
ENOBARBUS  You have done well by water.
MENAS  And you by land.
ENOBARBUS  I will praise any man that will praise me, though it cannot be denied what I have done by land.
MENAS  Nor what I have done by water.
ENOBARBUS  Yes, something you can deny for your own safety, you have been a great thief by sea.
MENAS  And you by land.
ENOBARBUS  There I deny my land service. But give me your hand, Menas, if our eyes had authority, here they might take two thieves kissing.
MENAS  All mens faces are true, whatsoeer their hands are.
ENOBARBUS  But there is never a fair woman has a true face.
MENAS  No slander, they steal hearts.
ENOBARBUS  We came hither to fight with you.
MENAS  For my part, I am sorry it is turned to a drinking. Pompey doth this day laugh away his fortune.
ENOBARBUS  If he do, sure, he cannot weep it back again.
MENAS  You have said, sir. We looked not for Mark Antony here pray you, is he married to Cleopatra?
ENOBARBUS  Cæsars sister is called Octavia.
MENAS  True, sir, she was the wife of Caius Marcellus.
ENOBARBUS  But she is now the wife of Marcus Antonius.
MENAS  Pray ye, sir?
ENOBARBUS  Tis true.
MENAS  Then is Cæsar and he for ever knit together.
ENOBARBUS  If I were bound to divine of this unity, I would not prophesy so.
MENAS  I think the policy of that purpose made more in the marriage than the love of the parties.
ENOBARBUS  I think so too, but you shall find the band that seems to tie their friendship together will be the very strangler of their amity. Octavia is of a holy, cold, and still conversation.
MENAS  Who would not have his wife so?
ENOBARBUS  Not he that himself is not so, which is Mark Antony. He will to his Egyptian dish again, then, shall the sighs of Octavia blow the fire up in Cæsar, and, as I said before, that which is the strength of their amity shall prove the immediate author of their variance. Antony will use his affection where it is, he married but his occasion here.
MENAS  And thus it may be. Come, sir, will you aboard? I have a health for you.
ENOBARBUS  I shall take it, sir we have used our throats in Egypt.
MENAS  Come, let s away.
SERVANT1  Here theyll be, man. Some o their plants are ill-rooted already, the least wind i the world will blow them down.
SERVANT2  Lepidus is high-coloured.
SERVANT1  They have made him drink alms-drink.
SERVANT2  As they pinch one another by the disposition, he cries out, No more, reconciles them to his entreaty, and himself to the drink.
SERVANT1  But it raises the greater war between him and his discretion.
SERVANT2  Why, this it is to have a name in great mens fellowship, I had as lief have a reed that will do me no service as a partisan I could not heave.
SERVANT1  To be called into a huge sphere, and not to be seen to move int, are the holes where eyes should be, which pitifully disaster the cheeks.
LEPIDUS  Youve strange serpents there.
LEPIDUS  Your serpent of Egypt is bred now of your mud by the operation of your sun, so is your crocodile.
POMPEIUS  Sit,—and some wine A health to Lepidus
LEPIDUS  I am not so well as I should be, but Ill neer out.
ENOBARBUS  Not till you have slept, I fear me youll be in till then.
LEPIDUS  Nay, certainly, I have heard the Ptolemies pyramises are very goodly things, without contradiction, I have heard that.
MENAS  Pompey, a word.
POMPEIUS  Say in mine ear, what ist?
MENAS  Forsake thy seat, I do beseech thee, captain, And bear me speak a word.
POMPEIUS  Forbear me till anon. This wine for Lepidus
LEPIDUS  What manner o thing is your crocodile?
LEPIDUS  What colour is it of?
LEPIDUS  Tis a strange serpent.
CÆSAR  Will this description satisfy him?
POMPEIUS  Go hang, sir, hang Tell me of that? away Do as I bid you. Wheres this cup I calld for?
MENAS  If for the sake of merit thou wilt hear me, Rise from thy stool.
POMPEIUS  I think thourt mad. The matter?
MENAS  I have ever held my cap off to thy fortunes.
POMPEIUS  Thou hast servd me with much faith. What s else to say? Be jolly, lords.
MENAS  Wilt thou be lord of all the world?
POMPEIUS  What sayst thou?
MENAS  Wilt thou be lord of the whole world? That s twice.
POMPEIUS  How should that be?
MENAS  But entertain it, And though thou think me poor, I am the man Will give thee all the world.
POMPEIUS  Hast thou drunk well?
MENAS  No, Pompey, I have kept me from the cup. Thou art, if thou darst be, the earthly Jove Whateer the ocean pales, or sky inclips, Is thine, if thou wilt ha t.
POMPEIUS  Show me which way.
MENAS  These three world-sharers, these competitors, Are in thy vessel let me cut the cable, And, when we are put off, fall to their throats All there is thine.
POMPEIUS  Ah this thou shouldst have done, And not have spoke on t. In me tis villany, In thee t had been good service. Thou must know Tis not my profit that does lead mine honour, Mine honour it. Repent that eer thy tongue Hath so betrayd thine act, being done unknown, I should have found it afterwards well done, But must condemn it now. Desist, and drink.
Aside.  Ill never follow thy palld fortunes more. Who seeks, and will not take when once tis offerd, Shall never find it more.
POMPEIUS  This health to Lepidus
ENOBARBUS  Heres to thee, Menas
MENAS  Enobarbus, welcome
POMPEIUS  Fill till the cup be hid.
ENOBARBUS  Theres a strong fellow, Menas.
MENAS  Why?
ENOBARBUS  A bears the third part of the world, man, seest not?
MENAS  The third part then is drunk, would it were all, That it might go on wheels
ENOBARBUS  Drink thou, increase the reels.
MENAS  Come.
POMPEIUS  This is not yet an Alexandrian feast.
CÆSAR  I could well forbeart. Its monstrous labour, when I wash my brain, And it grows fouler.
CÆSAR  Possess it, Ill make answer, But I had rather fast from all four days Than drink so much in one.
POMPEIUS  Let s ha t, good soldier.
CÆSAR  What would you more? Pompey, good night. Good brother, Let me request you off, our graver business Frowns at this levity. Gentle lords, lets part, You see we have burnt our cheeks, strong Enobarb Is weaker than the wine, and mine own tongue Splits what it speaks, the wild disguise hath almost Antickd us all. What needs more words? Good night. Good Antony, your hand.
POMPEIUS  Ill try you on the shore.
POMPEIUS  O, Antony You have my father s house,—But, what? we are friends. Come down into the boat.
ENOBARBUS  Take heed you fall not. Menas, Ill not on shore.
MENAS  No, to my cabin. These drums these trumpets, flutes what Let Neptune hear we bid a loud farewell To these great fellows sound and be hangd sound out
ENOBARBUS  Hoo says a. Theres my cap.
MENAS  Hoo noble captain come.
VENTIDIUS  Now, darting Parthia, art thou struck, and now Pleasd fortune does of Marcus Crassus death Make me revenger. Bear the kings sons body Before our army. Thy Pacorus, Orodes, Pays this for Marcus Crassus.
SILIUS  Noble Ventidius, Whilst yet with Parthian blood thy sword is warm, The fugitive Parthians follow, spur through Media, Mesopotamia, and the shelters whither The routed fly, so thy grand captain Antony Shall set thee on triumphant chariots and Put garlands on thy head.
VENTIDIUS  O Silius, Silius I have done enough, a lower place, note well, May make too great an act, for learn this, Silius, Better to leave undone than by our deed Acquire too high a fame when him we serves away. Cæsar and Antony have ever won More in their officer than person, Sossius, One of my place in Syria, his lieutenant, For quick accumulation of renown, Which he achievd by the minute, lost his favour. Who does i the wars more than his captain can Becomes his captains captain, and ambition, The soldiers virtue, rather makes choice of loss Than gain which darkens him. I could do more to do Antonius good, But twould offend him, and in his offence Should my performance perish.
SILIUS  Thou hast, Ventidius, that Without the which a soldier, and his sword, Grants scarce distinction. Thou wilt write to Antony?
VENTIDIUS  Ill humbly signify what in his name, That magical word of war, we have effected, How, with his banners and his well-paid ranks, The neer-yet-beaten horse of Parthia We have jaded out o the field.
SILIUS  Where is he now?
VENTIDIUS  He purposeth to Athens, whither, with what haste The weight we must convey with s will permit, We shall appear before him. On, there, pass along.
AGRIPPA  What are the brothers parted?
ENOBARBUS  They have dispatchd with Pompey, he is gone, The other three are sealing. Octavia weeps To part from Rome, Cæsar is sad, and Lepidus, Since Pompeys feast, as Menas says, is troubled With the green sickness.
AGRIPPA  Tis a noble Lepidus.
ENOBARBUS  A very fine one. O how he loves Cæsar.
AGRIPPA  Nay, but how dearly he adores Mark Antony
ENOBARBUS  Cæsar? Why, hes the Jupiter of men.
AGRIPPA  Whats Antony? The god of Jupiter.
ENOBARBUS  Spake you of Cæsar? How the non-pareil
AGRIPPA  O, Antony O thou Arabian bird
ENOBARBUS  Would you praise Cæsar, say, Cæsar, go no further.
AGRIPPA  Indeed, he plied them both with excellent praises.
ENOBARBUS  But he loves Cæsar best, yet he loves Antony. Hoo hearts, tongues, figures, scribes, bards, poets, cannot Think, speak, cast, write, sing, number, hoo His love to Antony. But as for Cæsar, Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder.
AGRIPPA  Both he loves.
AGRIPPA  Good fortune, worthy soldier, and farewell.
CÆSAR  You take from me a great part of myself, Use me well int. Sister, prove such a wife As my thoughts make thee, and as my furthest band Shall pass on thy approof. Most noble Antony, Let not the piece of virtue, which is set Betwixt us as the cement of our love To keep it builded, be the ram to batter The fortress of it, for better might we Have lovd without this mean, if on both parts This be not cherishd.
CÆSAR  I have said.
CÆSAR  Farewell, my dearest sister, fare thee well The elements be kind to thee, and make Thy spirits all of comfort fare thee well.
OCTAVIA  My noble brother
OCTAVIA  Sir, look well to my husbands house, and—
CÆSAR  What, Octavia?
OCTAVIA  Ill tell you in your ear.
AGRIPPA  He has a cloud ins face.
ENOBARBUS  He were the worse for that were he a horse, So is he, being a man.
AGRIPPA  Why, Enobarbus, When Antony found Julius Cæsar dead He cried almost to roaring, and he wept When at Philippi he found Brutus slain.
ENOBARBUS  That year, indeed, he was troubled with a rheum, What willingly he did confound he waild, Believe t, till I wept too.
CÆSAR  No, sweet Octavia, You shall hear from me still, the time shall not Out-go my thinking on you.
CÆSAR  Adieu, be happy
LEPIDUS  Let all the number of the stars give light To thy fair way
CÆSAR  Farewell, farewell
CLEOPATRA  Where is the fellow?
ALEXAS  Half afeard to come.
CLEOPATRA  Go to, go to.
ALEXAS  Good majesty, Herod of Jewry dare not look upon you But when you are well pleasd.
CLEOPATRA  That Herods head Ill have, but how, when Antony is gone Through whom I might command it? Come thou near.
MESSENGER  Most gracious majesty
CLEOPATRA  Didst thou behold Octavia?
MESSENGER  Ay, dread queen.
CLEOPATRA  Where?
MESSENGER  Madam, in Rome, I lookd her in the face, and saw her led Between her brother and Mark Antony.
CLEOPATRA  Is she as tall as me?
MESSENGER  She is not, madam.
CLEOPATRA  Didst hear her speak? is she shrill-tongud, or low?
MESSENGER  Madam, I heard her speak, she is low-voicd.
CLEOPATRA  Thats not so good. He cannot like her long.
CHARMIAN  Like her O Isis tis impossible.
CLEOPATRA  I think so, Charmian dull of tongue, and dwarfish What majesty is in her gait? Remember, If eer thou lookdst on majesty.
MESSENGER  She creeps, Her motion and her station are as one, She shows a body rather than a life, A statue than a breather.
CLEOPATRA  Is this certain?
MESSENGER  Or I have no observance.
CHARMIAN  Three in Egypt Cannot make better note.
CLEOPATRA  Hes very knowing, I do perceive t. Theres nothing in her yet. The fellow has good judgment.
CHARMIAN  Excellent.
CLEOPATRA  Guess at her years, I prithee.
MESSENGER  Madam, She was a widow,—
CLEOPATRA  Widow Charmian, hark.
MESSENGER  And I do think shes thirty.
CLEOPATRA  Bearst thou her face in mind? ist long or round?
MESSENGER  Round even to faultiness.
CLEOPATRA  For the most part, too, they are foolish that are so. Her hair, what colour?
MESSENGER  Brown, madam, and her forehead As low as she would wish it.
CLEOPATRA  Theres gold for thee Thou must not take my former sharpness ill. I will employ thee back again, I find thee Most fit for business. Go, make thee ready, Our letters are prepard.
CHARMIAN  A proper man.
CLEOPATRA  Indeed, he is so, I repent me much That so I harried him. Why, methinks, by him, This creatures no such thing.
CHARMIAN  Nothing, madam.
CLEOPATRA  The man hath seen some majesty, and should know.
CHARMIAN  Hath he seen majesty? Isis else defend, And serving you so long
CLEOPATRA  I have one thing more to ask him yet, good Charmian But tis no matter, thou shalt bring him to me Where I will write. All may be well enough.
CHARMIAN  I warrant you, madam.
OCTAVIA  O my good lord Believe not all, or, if you must believe, Stomach not all. A more unhappy lady, If this division chance, neer stood between, Praying for both parts The good gods will mock me presently, When I shall pray, O bless my lord and husband, Undo that prayer, by crying out as loud, O bless my brother Husband win, win brother, Prays, and destroys the prayer, no midway Twixt these extremes at all.
OCTAVIA  Thanks to my lord. The Jove of power make me most weak, most weak, Your reconciler Wars twixt you twain would be As if the world should cleave, and that slain men Should solder up the rift.
ENOBARBUS  How now, friend Eros
EROS  Theres strange news come, sir.
ENOBARBUS  What, man?
EROS  Cæsar and Lepidus have made wars upon Pompey.
ENOBARBUS  This is old what is the success?
EROS  Cæsar, having made use of him in the wars gainst Pompey, presently denied him rivality, would not let him partake in the glory of the action, and not resting here, accuses him of letters he had formerly wrote to Pompey, upon his own appeal, seizes him so the poor third is up, till death enlarge his confine.
ENOBARBUS  Then, world, thou hast a pair of chaps, no more, And throw between them all the food thou hast, Theyll grind the one the other. Wheres Antony?
EROS  Hes walking in the garden—thus and spurns The rush that lies before him, cries, Fool, Lepidus And threats the throat of that his officer That murderd Pompey.
ENOBARBUS  Our great navys riggd.
EROS  For Italy and Cæsar. More, Domitius, My lord desires you presently my news I might have told hereafter.
ENOBARBUS  Twill be naught, But let it be. Bring me to Antony.
EROS  Come, sir.
CÆSAR  Contemning Rome, he has done all this and more In Alexandria, heres the manner of t, I the market-place, on a tribunal silverd, Cleopatra and himself in chairs of gold Were publicly enthrond, at the feet sat Cæsarion, whom they call my fathers son, And all the unlawful issue that their lust Since then hath made between them. Unto her He gave the stablishment of Egypt, made her Of Lower Syria, Cyprus, Lydia, Absolute queen.
MECÆNAS  This in the public eye?
CÆSAR  I the common show-place, where they exercise. His sons he there proclaimd the kings of kings, Great Media, Parthia, and Armenia He gave to Alexander, to Ptolemy he assignd Syria, Cilicia, and Phœnicia. She In the habiliments of the goddess Isis That day appeard, and oft before gave audience, As tis reported, so.
MECÆNAS  Let Rome be thus Informed.
AGRIPPA  Who, queasy with his insolence Already, will their good thoughts call from him.
CÆSAR  The people know it, and have now receivd His accusations.
AGRIPPA  Whom does he accuse?
CÆSAR  Cæsar, and that, having in Sicily Sextus Pompeius spoild, we had not rated him His part o the isle, then does he say, he lent me Some shipping unrestord, lastly, he frets That Lepidus of the triumvirate Should be deposd, and, being, that we detain All his revenue.
AGRIPPA  Sir, this should be answerd.
CÆSAR  Tis done already, and the messenger gone. I have told him, Lepidus was grown too cruel, That he his high authority abusd, And did deserve his change for what I have conquerd, I grant him part, but then, in his Armenia, And other of his conquerd kingdoms, I Demand the like.
MECÆNAS  Hell never yield to that.
CÆSAR  Nor must not then be yielded to in this.
OCTAVIA  Hail, Cæsar, and my lord hail, most dear Cæsar
CÆSAR  That ever I should call thee cast-away
OCTAVIA  You have not calld me so, nor have you cause.
CÆSAR  Why have you stoln upon us thus? You come not Like Cæsars sister, the wife of Antony Should have an army for an usher, and The neighs of horse to tell of her approach Long ere she did appear, the trees by the way Should have borne men, and expectation fainted, Longing for what it had not, nay, the dust Should have ascended to the roof of heaven, Raisd by your populous troops. But you are come A market-maid to Rome, and have prevented The ostentation of our love, which, left unshown, Is often left unlovd we should have met you By sea and land, supplying every stage With an augmented greeting.
OCTAVIA  Good my lord, To come thus was I not constraind, but did it On my free-will. My lord, Mark Antony, Hearing that you prepard for war, acquainted My grieved ear withal, whereon, I beggd His pardon for return.
CÆSAR  Which soon he granted, Being an obstruct tween his lust and him.
OCTAVIA  Do not say so, my lord.
CÆSAR  I have eyes upon him, And his affairs come to me on the wind. Where is he now?
OCTAVIA  My lord, in Athens.
CÆSAR  No, my most wrongd sister, Cleopatra Hath nodded him to her. He hath given his empire Up to a whore, who now are levying The kings o the earth for war. He hath assembled Bocchus, the King of Libya, Archelaus, Of Cappadocia, Philadelphos, King Of Paphlagonia, the Thracian king, Adallas, King Malchus of Arabia, King of Pont, Herod of Jewry, Mithridates, King Of Comagene, Polemon and Amintas, The Kings of Mede and Lycaonia, With a more larger list of sceptres.
OCTAVIA  Ay me, most wretched, That have my heart parted betwixt two friends That do afflict each other
CÆSAR  Welcome hither Your letters did withhold our breaking forth, Till we perceivd both how you were wrong led And we in negligent danger. Cheer your heart, Be you not troubled with the time, which drives Oer your content these strong necessities, But let determind things to destiny Hold unbewaild their way. Welcome to Rome, Nothing more dear to me. You are abusd Beyond the mark of thought, and the high gods, To do you justice, make their ministers Of us and those that love you. Best of comfort, And ever welcome to us.
AGRIPPA  Welcome, lady.
MECÆNAS  Welcome, dear madam. Each heart in Rome does love and pity you, Only the adulterous Antony, most large In his abominations, turns you off, And gives his potent regiment to a trull, That noises it against us.
OCTAVIA  Is it so, sir?
CÆSAR  Most certain. Sister, welcome, pray you, Be ever known to patience, my dearest sister
CLEOPATRA  I will be even with thee, doubt it not.
ENOBARBUS  But why, why, why?
CLEOPATRA  Thou hast forspoke my being in these wars, And sayst it is not fit.
ENOBARBUS  Well, is it, is it?
CLEOPATRA  If not denouncd against us, why should not we Be there in person?
Aside.  If we should serve with horse and mares together, The horse were merely lost, the mares would bear A soldier and his horse.
CLEOPATRA  What is t you say?
ENOBARBUS  Your presence needs must puzzle Antony, Take from his heart, take from his brain, from s time, What should not then be spard. He is already Traducd for levity, and tis said in Rome That Photinus a eunuch and your maids Manage this war.
CLEOPATRA  Sink Rome, and their tongues rot That speak against us A charge we bear i the war, And, as the president of my kingdom, will Appear there for a man. Speak not against it, I will not stay behind.
ENOBARBUS  Nay, I have done. Here comes the emperor.
CLEOPATRA  Celerity is never more admird Than by the negligent.
CLEOPATRA  By sea What else?
CANIDIUS  Why will my lord do so?
ENOBARBUS  So hath my lord dard him to single fight.
CANIDIUS  Ay, and to wage his battle at Pharsalia, Where Cæsar fought with Pompey, but these offers, Which serve not for his vantage, he shakes off, And so should you.
ENOBARBUS  Your ships are not well mannd, Your mariners are muleters, reapers, people Ingrossd by swift impress, in Cæsars fleet Are those that often have gainst Pompey fought Their ships are yare, yours, heavy. No disgrace Shall fall you for refusing him at sea, Being prepard for land.
ENOBARBUS  Most worthy sir, you therein throw away The absolute soldiership you have by land, Distract your army, which doth most consist Of war-markd footmen, leave unexecuted Your own renowned knowledge, quite forego The way which promises assurance, and Give up yourself merely to chance and hazard From firm security.
CLEOPATRA  I have sixty sails, Cæsar none better.
MESSENGER  The news is true, my lord, he is descried, Cæsar has taken Toryne.
SOLDIER  O noble emperor do not fight by sea, Trust not to rotten planks do you misdoubt This sword and these my wounds? Let the Egyptians And the Phœnicians go a-ducking, we Have used to conquer, standing on the earth, And fighting foot to foot.
SOLDIER  By Hercules, I think I am i the right.
CANIDIUS  Soldier, thou art, but his whole action grows Not in the power on t so our leaders led, And we are womens men.
SOLDIER  You keep by land The legions and the horse whole, do you not?
CANIDIUS  Marcus Octavius, Marcus Justeius, Publicola, and Cælius, are for sea, But we keep whole by land. This speed of Cæsars Carries beyond belief.
SOLDIER  While he was yet in Rome His power went out in such distractions as Beguild all spies.
CANIDIUS  Whos his lieutenant, hear you?
SOLDIER  They say, one Taurus.
CANIDIUS  Well I know the man.
MESSENGER  The emperor calls Canidius.
CANIDIUS  With news the times with labour, and throes forth Each minute some.
CÆSAR  Taurus
TAURUS  My lord?
CÆSAR  Strike not by land, keep whole provoke not battle. Till we have done at sea. Do not exceed The prescript of this scroll our fortune lies Upon this jump.
ENOBARBUS  Naught, naught, all naught I can behold no longer. The Antoniad, the Egyptian admiral, With all their sixty, fly, and turn the rudder, To see t mine eyes are blasted.
SCARUS  Gods and goddesses, All the whole synod of them
ENOBARBUS  Whats thy passion?
SCARUS  The greater cantle of the world is lost With very ignorance, we have kissd away Kingdoms and provinces.
ENOBARBUS  How appears the fight?
SCARUS  On our side like the tokend pestilence, Where death is sure. Yon ribaudred nag of Egypt, Whom leprosy oertake i the midst o the fight, When vantage like a pair of twins appeard, Both as the same, or rather ours the elder, The breese upon her, like a cow in June, Hoists sails and flies.
ENOBARBUS  That I beheld Mine eyes did sicken at the sight, and could not Endure a further view.
SCARUS  She once being loofd, The noble ruin of her magic, Antony, Clapson his sea-wing, and like a doting mallard, Leaving the fight in height, flies after her. I never saw an action of such shame, Experience, manhood, honour, neer before Did violate so itself.
ENOBARBUS  Alack, alack
CANIDIUS  Our fortune on the sea is out of breath, And sinks most lamentably. Had our general Been what he knew himself, it had gone well O he has given example for our flight Most grossly by his own.
ENOBARBUS  Ay, are you thereabouts? Why, then, good night, indeed.
CANIDIUS  Towards Peloponnesus are they fled.
SCARUS  Tis easy to t, and there I will attend What further comes.
CANIDIUS  To Cæsar will I render My legions and my horse, six kings already Show me the way of yielding.
ENOBARBUS  Ill yet follow The wounded chance of Antony, though my reason Sits in the wind against me.
ATTENDANT  Fly not we.
EROS  Nay, gentle madam, to him, comfort him.
IRAS  Do, most dear queen.
CHARMIAN  Do Why, what else?
CLEOPATRA  Let me sit down. O Juno
EROS  See you here, sir?
CHARMIAN  Madam
IRAS  Madam, O good empress
EROS  Sir, sir
CLEOPATRA  Ah stand by.
EROS  The queen, my lord, the queen.
IRAS  Go to him, madam, speak to him, He is unqualitied with very shame.
CLEOPATRA  Well then, sustain me O
EROS  Most noble sir, arise, the queen approaches Her heads declind, and death will seize her, but Your comfort makes the rescue.
EROS  Sir, the queen.
CLEOPATRA  O my lord, my lord Forgive my fearful sails I little thought You would have followd.
CLEOPATRA  O my pardon.
CLEOPATRA  Pardon, pardon
CÆSAR  Let him appear thats come from Antony. Know you him?
DOLABELLA  Cæsar, tis his schoolmaster An argument that he is pluckd, when hither He sends so poor a pinion of his wing, Which had superfluous kings for messengers Not many moons gone by.
CÆSAR  Approach, and speak.
EUPHRONIUS  Such as I am, I come from Antony I was of late as petty to his ends As is the morn-dew on the myrtle-leaf To his grand sea.
CÆSAR  Be t so. Declare thine office.
EUPHRONIUS  Lord of his fortunes he salutes thee, and Requires to live in Egypt, which not granted, He lessens his requests, and to thee sues To let him breathe between the heavens and earth, A private man in Athens, this for him. Next, Cleopatra does confess thy greatness, Submits her to thy might, and of thee craves The circle of the Ptolemies for her heirs, Now hazarded to thy grace.
CÆSAR  For Antony, I have no ears to his request. The queen Of audience nor desire shall fail, so she From Egypt drive her all-disgraced friend, Or take his life there, this if she perform, She shall not sue unheard. So to them both.
EUPHRONIUS  Fortune pursue thee
THYREUS  Cæsar, I go.
CÆSAR  Observe how Antony becomes his flaw, And what thou thinkst his very action speaks In every power that moves.
THYREUS  Cæsar, I shall.
CLEOPATRA  What shall we do, Enobarbus?
ENOBARBUS  Think, and die.
CLEOPATRA  Is Antony or we, in fault for this?
ENOBARBUS  Antony only, that would make his will Lord of his reason. What though you fled From that great face of war, whose several ranges Frighted each other, why should he follow? The itch of his affection should not then Have nickd his captainship, at such a point, When half to half the world opposd, he being The mered question. Twas a shame no less Than was his loss, to course your flying flags, And leave his navy gazing.
CLEOPATRA  Prithee, peace.
EUPHRONIUS  Ay, my lord.
EUPHRONIUS  He says so.
CLEOPATRA  That head, my lord?
Aside.  Unstate his happiness, and be stagd to the show Against a sworder I see mens judgments are A parcel of their fortunes, and things outward Do draw the inward quality after them, To suffer all alike. That he should dream, Knowing all measures, the full Cæsar will Answer his emptiness Cæsar, thou hast subdud His judgment too.
ATTENDANT  A messenger from Cæsar.
CLEOPATRA  What no more ceremony? See my women, Against the blown rose may they stop their nose, That kneeld unto the buds. Admit him, sir.
Aside.  The loyalty well held to fools does make Our faith mere folly, yet he that can endure To follow with allegiance a falln lord, Does conquer him that did his master conquer, And earns a place i the story.
CLEOPATRA  Cæsars will?
THYREUS  Hear it apart.
CLEOPATRA  None but friends, say boldly.
THYREUS  So, haply, are they friends to Antony.
ENOBARBUS  He needs as many, sir, as Cæsar has, Or needs not us. If Cæsar please, our master Will leap to be his friend, for us, you know Whose he is we are, and that is Cæsars.
THYREUS  So. Thus then, thou most renownd Cæsar entreats, Not to consider in what case thou standst, Further than he is Cæsar.
CLEOPATRA  Go on, right royal.
THYREUS  He knows that you embrace not Antony As you did love, but as you feard him.
CLEOPATRA  O
THYREUS  The scars upon your honour therefore he Does pity, as constrained blemishes, Not as deservd.
CLEOPATRA  He is a god, and knows What is most right. Mine honour was not yielded, But conquerd merely.
Aside.  I will ask Antony. Sir, sir, thourt so leaky, That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for Thy dearest quit thee.
THYREUS  Shall I say to Cæsar What you require of him? for he partly begs To be desird to give. It much would please him, That of his fortunes you should make a staff To lean upon, but it would warm his spirits To hear from me you had left Antony, And put yourself under his shroud, The universal landlord.
CLEOPATRA  Whats your name?
THYREUS  My name is Thyreus.
CLEOPATRA  Most kind messenger, Say to great Cæsar this in deputation I kiss his conquring hand, tell him, I am prompt To lay my crown at s feet, and there to kneel, Tell him, from his all-obeying breath I hear The doom of Egypt.
THYREUS  Tis your noblest course. Wisdom and fortune combating together, If that the former dare but what it can, No chance may shake it. Give me grace to lay My duty on your hand.
CLEOPATRA  Your Cæsars father oft, When he hath musd of taking kingdoms in, Bestowd his lips on that unworthy place, As it raind kisses.
THYREUS  One that but performs The bidding of the fullest man, and worthiest To have command obeyd.
Aside.  Than with an old one dying.
THYREUS  Mark Antony,—
CLEOPATRA  Good my lord,—
CLEOPATRA  O ist come to this?
CLEOPATRA  Wherefore is this?
ATTENDANT1  Soundly, my lord.
ATTENDANT1  He did ask favour.
CLEOPATRA  Have you done yet?
CLEOPATRA  I must stay his time.
CLEOPATRA  Not know me yet?
CLEOPATRA  Ah dear, if I be so, From my cold heart let heaven engender hail, And poison it in the source, and the first stone Drop in my neck as it determines, so Dissolve my life. The next Cæsarion smite, Till by degrees the memory of my womb, Together with my brave Egyptians all, By the discandying of this pelleted storm, Lie graveless, till the flies and gnats of Nile Have buried them for prey
CLEOPATRA  Thats my brave lord
CLEOPATRA  It is my birth-day I had thought to have held it poor, but, since my lord Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra.
CLEOPATRA  Call all his noble captains to my lord.
ENOBARBUS  Now hell outstare the lightning. To be furious Is to be frighted out of fear, and in that mood The dove will peck the estridge, and I see still, A diminution in our captains brain Restores his heart. When valour preys on reason It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek Some way to leave him.
CÆSAR  He calls me boy, and chides as he had power To beat me out of Egypt, my messenger He hath whippd with rods, dares me to personal combat, Cæsar to Antony. Let the old ruffian know I have many other ways to die, meantime Laugh at his challenge.
MECÆNAS  Cæsar must think, When one so great begins to rage, hes hunted Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now Make boot of his distraction never anger Made good guard for itself.
CÆSAR  Let our best heads Know that to-morrow the last of many battles We mean to fight. Within our files there are, Of those that servd Mark Antony but late, Enough to fetch him in. See it done, And feast the army, we have store to do t, And they have earnd the waste. Poor Antony
ENOBARBUS  No.
ENOBARBUS  He thinks, being twenty times of better fortune, He is twenty men to one.
ENOBARBUS  Ill strike, and cry, Take all.
CLEOPATRA  What means this?
SERVANTS  The gods forbid
ENOBARBUS  What mean you, sir, To give them this discomfort? Look, they weep, And I, an ass, am onion-eyd for shame, Transform us not to women.
SOLDIER1  Brother, good night, to-morrow is the day.
SOLDIER2  It will determine one way, fare you well. Heard you of nothing strange about the streets?
SOLDIER1  Nothing. What news?
SOLDIER2  Belike, tis but a rumour. Good night to you.
SOLDIER1  Well, sir, good night.
SOLDIER2  Soldiers, have careful watch.
SOLDIER3  And you. Good night, good night.
SOLDIER3  Tis a brave army, And full of purpose.
SOLDIER4  Peace what noise?
SOLDIER1  List, list
SOLDIER2  Hark
SOLDIER1  Music i the air.
SOLDIER3  Under the earth.
SOLDIER4  It signs well, does it not?
SOLDIER3  No.
SOLDIER1  Peace, I say What should this mean?
SOLDIER2  Tis the god Hercules, whom Antony lovd, Now leaves him.
SOLDIER1  Walk, lets see if other watchmen Do hear what we do.
SOLDIER2  How now, masters
SOLDIERS  How now— How now—do you hear this?
SOLDIER1  Ay, is t not strange?
SOLDIER3  Do you hear, masters? do you hear?
SOLDIER1  Follow the noise so far as we have quarter, Lets see how t will give off.
CLEOPATRA  Sleep a little.
CLEOPATRA  Nay, Ill help too. Whats this for?
CLEOPATRA  Sooth, la Ill help thus it must be.
EROS  Briefly, sir.
CLEOPATRA  Is not this buckled well?
CAPTAIN  The morn is fair. Good morrow, general.
ALL  Good morrow, general.
CHARMIAN  Please you, retire to your chamber.
CLEOPATRA  Lead me. He goes forth gallantly. That he and Cæsar might Determine this great war in single fight Then, Antony,—but now.—Well, on.
SOLDIER  The gods make this a happy day to Antony
SOLDIER  Hadst thou done so, The kings that have revolted, and the soldier That has this morning left thee, would have still Followd thy heels.
SOLDIER  Who One ever near thee call for Enobarbus, He shall not hear thee, or from Cæsars camp Say, I am none of thine.
SOLDIER  Sir, He is with Cæsar.
EROS  Sir, his chests and treasure He has not with him.
SOLDIER  Most certain.
CÆSAR  Go forth, Agrippa, and begin the fight Our will is Antony be took alive, Make it so known.
AGRIPPA  Cæsar, I shall.
CÆSAR  The time of universal peace is near Prove this a prosperous day, the three-nookd world Shall bear the olive freely.
MESSENGER  Antony Is come into the field.
CÆSAR  Go charge Agrippa Plant those that have revolted in the van, That Antony may seem to spend his fury Upon himself.
ENOBARBUS  Alexas did revolt, and went to Jewry on Affairs of Antony, there did persuade Great Herod to incline himself to Cæsar, And leave his master Antony for this pains Cæsar hath hangd him. Canidius and the rest That fell away have entertainment, but No honourable trust. I have done ill, Of which I do accuse myself so sorely That I will joy no more.
SOLDIER  Enobarbus, Antony Hath after thee sent all thy treasure, with His bounty overplus the messenger Came on my guard, and at thy tent is now Unloading of his mules.
ENOBARBUS  I give it you.
SOLDIER  Mock not, Enobarbus. I tell you true best you safd the bringer Out of the host, I must attend mine office Or would have done t myself. Your emperor Continues still a Jove.
ENOBARBUS  I am alone the villain of the earth, And feel I am so most. O Antony Thou mine of bounty, how wouldst thou have paid My better service, when my turpitude Thou dost so crown with gold This blows my heart If swift thought break it not, a swifter mean Shall outstrike thought, but thought will do t, I feel. I fight against thee No I will go seek Some ditch, wherein to die, the foulst best fits My latter part of life.
AGRIPPA  Retire, we have engagd ourselves too far. Cæsar himself has work, and our oppression Exceeds what we expected.
SCARUS  O my brave emperor, this is fought indeed Had we done so at first, we had droven them home With clouts about their heads.
SCARUS  I had a wound here that was like a T, But now tis made an H.
SCARUS  Well beat em into bench-holes I have yet Room for six scotches more.
EROS  They are beaten, sir, and our advantage serves For a fair victory.
SCARUS  Let us score their backs, And snatch em up, as we take hares, behind Tis sport to maul a runner.
SCARUS  Ill halt after.
CLEOPATRA  Lord of lords O infinite virtue comst thou smiling from The worlds great snare uncaught?
CLEOPATRA  Ill give thee, friend, An armour all of gold, it was a kings.
SOLDIER1  If we be not relievd within this hour, We must return to the court of guard the night Is shiny, and they say we shall embattle By the second hour i the morn.
SOLDIER2  This last day was A shrewd one to s.
ENOBARBUS  O bear me witness, night,—
SOLDIER3  What man is this?
SOLDIER2  Stand close and list him.
ENOBARBUS  Be witness to me, O thou blessed moon, When men revolted shall upon record Bear hateful memory, poor Enobarbus did Before thy face repent
SOLDIER1  Enobarbus
SOLDIER3  Peace Hark further.
ENOBARBUS  O sovereign mistress of true melancholy, The poisonous damp of night disponge upon me, That life, a very rebel to my will, May hang no longer on me, throw my heart Against the flint and hardness of my fault, Which, being dried with grief, will break to powder, And finish all foul thoughts. O Antony Nobler than my revolt is infamous, Forgive me in thine own particular, But let the world rank me in register A master-leaver and a fugitive. O Antony O Antony
SOLDIER2  Lets speak to him.
SOLDIER1  Lets hear him, for the things he speaks May concern Cæsar.
SOLDIER3  Lets do so. But he sleeps.
SOLDIER1  Swounds rather, for so bad a prayer as his Was never yet for sleep.
SOLDIER2  Go we to him.
SOLDIER3  Awake, sir, awake speak to us.
SOLDIER2  Hear you, sir?
SOLDIER3  Come on, then, He may recover yet.
SCARUS  For both, my lord.
CÆSAR  But being chargd, we will be still by land, Which, as I take t, we shall, for his best force Is forth to man his galleys. To the vales, And hold our best advantage
CLEOPATRA  Why is my lord enragd against his love?
CLEOPATRA  Help me, my women O he is more mad Than Telamon for his shield, the boar of Thessaly Was never so embossd.
CHARMIAN  To the monument There lock yourself, and send him word you are dead. The soul and body rive not more in parting Than greatness going off.
CLEOPATRA  To the monument Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself, Say that the last I spoke was Antony, And word it, prithee, piteously. Hence, Mardian, and bring me how he takes my death. To the monument
EROS  Ay, noble lord.
EROS  Ay, my lord.
EROS  It does, my lord.
MARDIAN  No, Antony, My mistress lovd thee, and her fortunes mingled With thine entirely.
MARDIAN  Death of one person can be paid but once, And that she has dischargd. What thou wouldst do Is done unto thy hand, the last she spake Was, Antony most noble Antony Then in the midst a tearing groan did break The name of Antony, it was divided Between her heart and lips. She renderd life, Thy name so buried in her.
MARDIAN  Dead.
EROS  What would my lord?
EROS  The gods withhold me Shall I do that which all the Parthian darts, Though enemy, lost aim and could not?
EROS  I would not seet.
EROS  O, sir pardon me.
EROS  Turn from me then that noble countenance, Wherein the worship of the whole world lies.
EROS  My sword is drawn.
EROS  My dear master, My captain, and my emperor, let me say, Before I strike this bloody stroke, farewell.
EROS  Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike now?
GUARD1  Whats the noise?
GUARD2  The star is fallen.
GUARD1  And time is at his period.
ALL  Alas, and woe
GUARD1  Not I.
GUARD2  Nor I.
GUARD3  Nor any one.
DERCETAS  Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly. This sword but shown to Cæsar, with this tidings, Shall enter me with him.
DIOMEDES  Wheres Antony?
DERCETAS  There, Diomed, there.
DIOMEDES  Lives he? Wilt thou not answer, man?
DIOMEDES  Most absolute lord, My mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee.
DIOMEDES  Now, my lord.
DIOMEDES  Lockd in her monument. She had a prophesying fear Of what hath come to pass, for when she saw— Which never shall be found—you did suspect She had disposd with Cæsar, and that your rage Would not be purgd, she sent you word she was dead, But, fearing since how it might work, hath sent Me to proclaim the truth, and I am come, I dread, too late.
DIOMEDES  What, ho the emperors guard The guard, what, ho Come, your lord calls
GUARD1  Woe, woe are we, sir, you may not live to wear All your true followers out.
ALL  Most heavy day
CLEOPATRA  O Charmian I will never go from hence.
CHARMIAN  Be comforted, dear madam.
CLEOPATRA  No, I will not. All strange and terrible events are welcome, But comforts we despise, our size of sorrow, Proportiond to our cause, must be as great As that which makes it.
DIOMEDES  His deaths upon him, but not dead. Look out o the other side your monument, His guard have brought him thither.
CLEOPATRA  O sun Burn the great sphere thou movst in, darkling stand The varying star o the world. O Antony, Antony, Antony Help, Charmian, help, Iras, help, Help, friends below lets draw him hither.
CLEOPATRA  So it should be, that none but Antony Should conquer Antony, but woe tis so
CLEOPATRA  I dare not, dear,— Dear my lord, pardon,—I dare not, Lest I be taken not the imperious show Of the full-fortund Cæsar ever shall Be broochd with me, if knife, drugs, serpents, have Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes And still conclusion, shall acquire no honour Demuring upon me. But come, come, Antony,— Help me, my women,—we must draw thee up. Assist, good friends.
ALL  A heavy sight
CLEOPATRA  No, let me speak, and let me rail so high, That the false housewife Fortune break her wheel, Provokd by my offence.
CLEOPATRA  They do not go together.
CLEOPATRA  My resolution and my hands Ill trust, None about Cæsar.
CHARMIAN  O, quietness, lady
IRAS  She is dead too, our sovereign.
CHARMIAN  Lady
IRAS  Madam
CHARMIAN  O madam, madam, madam
IRAS  Royal Egypt Empress
CHARMIAN  Peace, peace, Iras
CLEOPATRA  No more, but een a woman, and commanded By such poor passion as the maid that milks And does the meanest chares. It were for me To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods, To tell them that this world did equal theirs Till they had stoln our jewel. Alls but naught, Patience is sottish, and impatience does Become a dog thats mad, then is it sin To rush into the secret house of death, Ere death dare come to us? How do you, women? What, what good cheer Why, how now, Charmian My noble girls Ah, women, women, look Our lamp is spent, its out. Good sirs, take heart,— Well bury him, and then, whats brave, whats noble, Lets do it after the high Roman fashion, And make death proud to take us. Come, away, This case of that huge spirit now is cold, Ah women, women. Come, we have no friend But resolution, and the briefest end.
CÆSAR  Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield, Being so frustrate, tell him he mocks The pauses that he makes.
DOLABELLA  Cæsar, I shall.
CÆSAR  Wherefore is that? and what art thou that darst Appear thus to us?
DERCETAS  I am calld Dercetas, Mark Antony I servd, who best was worthy Best to be servd, whilst he stood up and spoke He was my master, and I wore my life To spend upon his haters. If thou please To take me to thee, as I was to him Ill be to Cæsar, if thou pleasest not, I yield thee up my life.
CÆSAR  What is t thou sayst?
DERCETAS  I say, O Cæsar, Antony is dead.
CÆSAR  The breaking of so great a thing should make A greater crack, the round world Should have shook lions into civil streets, And citizens to their dens. The death of Antony Is not a single doom, in the name lay A moiety of the world.
DERCETAS  He is dead, Cæsar, Not by a public minister of justice, Nor by a hired knife, but that self hand, Which writ his honour in the acts it did, Hath, with the courage which the heart did lend it, Splitted the heart. This is his sword, I robbd his wound of it, behold it staind With his most noble blood.
CÆSAR  Look you sad, friends? The gods rebuke me, but it is tidings To wash the eyes of kings.
AGRIPPA  And strange it is, That nature must compel us to lament Our most persisted deeds.
MECÆNAS  His taints and honours Wagd equal with him.
AGRIPPA  A rarer spirit never Did steer humanity, but you, gods, will give us Some faults to make us men. Cæsar is touchd.
MECÆNAS  When such a spacious mirrors set before him, He needs must see himself.
EGYPTIAN  A poor Egyptian yet. The queen my mistress, Confind in all she has, her monument, Of thy intents desires instruction, That she preparedly may frame herself To the way shes forcd to.
CÆSAR  Bid her have good heart, She soon shall know of us, by some of ours, How honourable and how kindly we Determine for her, for Cæsar cannot live To be ungentle.
EGYPTIAN  So the gods preserve thee
CÆSAR  Come hither, Proculeius. Go and say, We purpose her no shame, give her what comforts The quality of her passion shall require, Lest, in her greatness, by some mortal stroke She do defeat us, for her life in Rome Would be eternal in our triumph. Go, And with your speediest bring us what she says, And how you find of her.
PROCULAEIUS  Cæsar, I shall.
CÆSAR  Gallus, go you along. To second Proculeius?
AGRIPPA  Dolabella
MECÆNAS  Dolabella
CÆSAR  Let him alone, for I remember now How hes employd, he shall in time be ready. Go with me to my tent, where you shall see How hardly I was drawn into this war, How calm and gentle I proceeded still In all my writings. Go with me, and see What I can show in this.
CLEOPATRA  My desolation does begin to make A better life. Tis paltry to be Cæsar, Not being Fortune, hes but Fortunes knave, A minister of her will, and it is great To do that thing that ends all other deeds, Which shackles accidents, and bolts up change, Which sleeps, and never palates more the dug, The beggars nurse and Cæsars.
PROCULAEIUS  Cæsar sends greeting to the Queen of Egypt, And bids thee study on what fair demands Thou meanst to have him grant thee.
CLEOPATRA  Whats thy name?
PROCULAEIUS  My name is Proculeius.
CLEOPATRA  Antony Did tell me of you, bade me trust you, but I do not greatly care to be deceivd, That have no use for trusting. If your master Would have a queen his beggar, you must tell him, That majesty, to keep decorum, must No less beg than a kingdom, if he please To give me conquerd Egypt for my son, He gives me so much of mine own as I Will kneel to him with thanks.
PROCULAEIUS  Be of good cheer, Youre falln into a princely hand, fear nothing. Make your full reference freely to my lord, Who is so full of grace, that it flows over On all that need, let me report to him Your sweet dependancy, and you shall find A conqueror that will pray in aid for kindness Where he for grace is kneeld to.
CLEOPATRA  Pray you, tell him I am his fortunes vassal, and I send him The greatness he has got. I hourly learn A doctrine of obedience, and would gladly Look him i the face.
PROCULAEIUS  This Ill report, dear lady Have comfort, for I know your plight is pitied Of him that causd it.
IRAS  Royal queen
CHARMIAN  O Cleopatra thou art taken, queen.
CLEOPATRA  Quick, quick, good hands.
CLEOPATRA  What, of death too, That rids our dogs of languish?
PROCULAEIUS  Cleopatra, Do not abuse my masters bounty by The undoing of yourself, let the world see His nobleness well acted, which your death Will never let come forth.
CLEOPATRA  Where art thou, death? Come hither, come come, come, and take a queen Worth many babes and beggars
PROCULAEIUS  O temperance, lady.
CLEOPATRA  Sir, I will eat no meat, Ill not drink, sir, If idle talk will once be necessary, Ill not sleep neither. This mortal house Ill ruin, Do Cæsar what he can. Know, sir, that I Will not wait piniond at your masters court, Nor once be chastisd with the sober eye Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up And show me to the shouting varletry Of censuring Rome? Rather a ditch in Egypt Be gentle grave unto me rather on Nilus mud Lay me stark nakd, and let the water-flies Blow me into abhorring rather make My countrys high pyramides my gibbet, And hang me up in chains
PROCULAEIUS  You do extend These thoughts of horror further than you shall Find cause in Cæsar.
DOLABELLA  Proculeius, What thou hast done thy master Cæsar knows, And he hath sent for thee, as for the queen, Ill take her to my guard.
CLEOPATRA  Say, I would die.
DOLABELLA  Most noble empress, you have heard of me?
CLEOPATRA  I cannot tell.
DOLABELLA  Assuredly you know me.
CLEOPATRA  No matter, sir, what I have heard or known. You laugh when boys or women tell their dreams, Is t not your trick?
DOLABELLA  I understand not, madam.
CLEOPATRA  I dreamd there was an Emperor Antony O such another sleep, that I might see But such another man.
DOLABELLA  If it might please ye,—
CLEOPATRA  His face was as the heavens, and therein stuck A sun and moon, which kept their course, and lighted The little O, the earth.
DOLABELLA  Most sovereign creature,—
CLEOPATRA  His legs besfrid the ocean, his reard arm Crested the world, his voice was propertied As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends, But when he meant to quail and shake the orb, He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty, There was no winter in t, an autumn twas That grew the more by reaping, his delights Were dolphin-like, they showd his back above The element they livd in, in his livery Walkd crowns and crownets, realms and islands were As plates droppd from his pocket.
DOLABELLA  Cleopatra,—
CLEOPATRA  Think you there was, or might be, such a man As this I dreamd of?
DOLABELLA  Gentle madam, no.
CLEOPATRA  You lie, up to the hearing of the gods. But, if there be, or ever were, one such, Its past the size of dreaming, nature wants stuff To vie strange forms with fancy, yet to imagine An Antony were natures piece gainst fancy, Condemning shadows quite.
DOLABELLA  Hear me, good madam. Your loss is as yourself, great, and you bear it As answering to the weight would I might never Oertake pursud success, but I do feel, By the rebound of yours, a grief that smites My very heart at root.
CLEOPATRA  I thank you, sir. Know you what Cæsar means to do with me?
DOLABELLA  I am loath to tell you what I would you knew.
CLEOPATRA  Nay, pray you, sir,—
DOLABELLA  Though he be honourable,—
CLEOPATRA  Hell lead me then in triumph?
CÆSAR  Which is the Queen of Egypt?
DOLABELLA  It is the emperor, madam.
CÆSAR  Arise, you shall not kneel. I pray you, rise, rise, Egypt.
CLEOPATRA  Sir, the gods Will have it thus, my master and my lord I must obey.
CÆSAR  Take to you no hard thoughts, The record of what injuries you did us, Though written in our flesh, we shall remember As things but done by chance.
CLEOPATRA  Sole sir o the world, I cannot project mine own cause so well To make it clear, but do confess I have Been laden with like frailties which before Have often shamd our sex.
CÆSAR  Cleopatra, know, We will extenuate rather than enforce If you apply yourself to our intents,— Which towards you are most gentle,—you shall find A benefit in this change, but if you seek To lay on me a cruelty, by taking Antonys course, you shall bereave yourself Of my good purposes, and put your children To that destruction which Ill guard them from, If thereon you rely. Ill take my leave.
CLEOPATRA  And may through all the world tis yours, and we, Your scutcheons, and your signs of conquest, shall Hang in what place you please. Here, my good lord.
CÆSAR  You shall advise me in all for Cleopatra.
SELEUCUS  Here, madam.
CLEOPATRA  This is my treasurer, let him speak, my lord, Upon his peril, that I have reservd To myself nothing. Speak the truth, Seleucus.
SELEUCUS  Madam, I had rather seal my lips, than, to my peril, Speak that which is not.
CLEOPATRA  What have I kept back?
SELEUCUS  Enough to purchase what you have made known.
CÆSAR  Nay, blush not, Cleopatra, I approve Your wisdom in the deed.
CLEOPATRA  See Cæsar O, behold, How pomp is followd, mine will now be yours, And, should we shift estates, yours would be mine. The ingratitude of this Seleucus does Even make me wild. O slave of no more trust Than love thats hird. What goest thou back? thou shalt Go back, I warrant thee, but Ill catch thine eyes, Though they had wings slave, soulless villain, dog O rarely base
CÆSAR  Good queen, let us entreat you.
CÆSAR  Forbear, Seleucus.
CLEOPATRA  Be it known that we, the greatest, are misthought For things that others do, and, when we fall, We answer others merits in our name, Are therefore to be pitied.
CÆSAR  Cleopatra, Not what you have reservd, nor what acknowledgd, Put we i the roll of conquest still be t yours, Bestow it at your pleasure, and believe, Cæsars no merchant, to make prize with you Of things that merchants sold. Therefore be cheerd, Make not your thoughts your prisons no, dear queen, For we intend so to dispose you as Yourself shall give us counsel. Feed, and sleep Our care and pity is so much upon you, That we remain your friend, and so, adieu.
CLEOPATRA  My master, and my lord
CÆSAR  Not so. Adieu.
CLEOPATRA  He words me, girls, he words me, that I should not Be noble to myself but, hark thee, Charmian.
IRAS  Finish, good lady, the bright day is done, And we are for the dark.
CLEOPATRA  Hie thee again I have spoke already, and it is provided, Go, put it to the haste.
CHARMIAN  Madam, I will.
DOLABELLA  Where is the queen?
CHARMIAN  Behold, sir.
CLEOPATRA  Dolabella
DOLABELLA  Madam, as thereto sworn by your command, Which my love makes religion to obey, I tell you this Cæsar through Syria Intends his journey, and within three days You with your children will be send before. Make your best use of this, I have performd Your pleasure and my promise.
CLEOPATRA  Dolabella, I shall remain your debtor.
DOLABELLA  I your servant. Adieu, good queen, I must attend on Cæsar.
CLEOPATRA  Farewell, and thanks. Now, Iras, what thinkst thou? Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shall be shown In Rome, as well as I, mechanic slaves With greasy aprons, rules and hammers, shall Uplift us to the view, in their thick breaths, Rank of gross diet, shall we be enclouded, And forcd to drink their vapour.
IRAS  The gods forbid
CLEOPATRA  Nay, tis most certain, Iras. Saucy lictors Will catch at us, like strumpets, and scald rimers Ballad us out o tune, the quick comedians Extemporally will stage us, and present Our Alexandrian revels. Antony Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness I the posture of a whore.
IRAS  O, the good gods
CLEOPATRA  Nay, thats certain.
IRAS  Ill never see it, for, I am sure my nails Are stronger than mine eyes.
GUARD  Here is a rural fellow That will not be denied your highness presence He brings you figs.
CLEOPATRA  May do a noble deed he brings me liberty. My resolutions placd, and I have nothing Of woman in me, now from head to foot I am marble-constant, now the fleeting moon No planet is of mine.
GUARD  This is the man.
CLEOPATRA  Avoid, and leave him. Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there, That kills and pains not?
CLOWN  Truly, I have him, but I would not be the party that should desire you to touch him, for his biting is immortal, those that do die of it do seldom or never recover.
CLEOPATRA  Rememberst thou any that have died on t?
CLOWN  Very many, men and women too. I heard of one of them no longer than yesterday, a very honest woman, but something given to lie, as a woman should not do but in the way of honesty, how she died of the biting of it, what pain she felt. Truly, she makes a very good report o the worm, but he that will believe all that they say shall never be saved by half that they do. But this is most fallible, the worms an odd worm.
CLEOPATRA  Get thee hence, farewell.
CLOWN  I wish you all joy of the worm.
CLEOPATRA  Farewell.
CLOWN  You must think this, look you, that the worm will do his kind.
CLEOPATRA  Ay, ay, farewell.
CLOWN  Look you, the worm is not to be trusted but in the keeping of wise people, for indeed there is no goodness in the worm.
CLEOPATRA  Take thou no care, it shall be heeded.
CLOWN  Very good. Give it nothing, I pray you, for it is not worth the feeding.
CLEOPATRA  Will it eat me?
CLOWN  You must not think I am so simple but I know the devil himself will not eat a woman, I know that a woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her not. But, truly, these same whoreson devils do the gods great harm in their women, for in every ten that they make, the devils mar five.
CLEOPATRA  Well, get thee gone, farewell.
CLOWN  Yes, forsooth, I wish you joy of the worm.
CHARMIAN  Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain, that I may say, The gods themselves do weep.
CHARMIAN  O eastern star
CLEOPATRA  Peace, peace Dost thou not see my baby at my breast, That sucks the nurse asleep?
CHARMIAN  O, break O, break
CHARMIAN  In this vile world? So, fare thee well. Now boast thee, death, in thy possession lies A lass unparalleld. Downy windows, close, And golden Phœbus never be beheld Of eyes again so royal Your crowns awry, Ill mend it, and then play.
GUARD1  Where is the queen?
CHARMIAN  Speak softly, wake her not.
GUARD1  Cæsar hath sent—
GUARD1  Approach, ho Alls not well, Cæsars beguild.
GUARD2  Theres Dolabella sent from Cæsar, call him.
GUARD1  What work is here Charmian, is this well done?
DOLABELLA  How goes it here?
GUARD2  All dead.
DOLABELLA  O sir, you are too sure an augurer, That you did fear is done.
CÆSAR  Bravest at the last, She levelld at our purposes, and, being royal, Took her own way. The manner of their deaths? I do not see them bleed.
DOLABELLA  Who was last with them?
GUARD1  A simple countryman that brought her figs This was his basket.
CÆSAR  Poisond then.
GUARD1  O Cæsar This Charmian livd but now, she stood, and spake I found her trimming up the diadem On her dead mistress, tremblingly she stood, And on the sudden droppd.
CÆSAR  O noble weakness If they had swallowd poison twould appear By external swelling, but she looks like sleep, As she would catch another Antony In her strong toil of grace.
DOLABELLA  Here, on her breast, There is a vent of blood, and something blown, The like is on her arm.
GUARD1  This is an aspics trail, and these fig-leaves Have slime upon them, such as the aspic leaves Upon the caves of Nile.
CÆSAR  Most probable That so she died, for her physician tells me She hath pursud conclusions infinite Of easy ways to die. Take up her bed, And bear her women from the monument. She shall be buried by her Antony No grave upon the earth shall clip in it A pair so famous. High events as these Strike those that make them, and their story is No less in pity than his glory which Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall, In solemn show, attend this funeral, And then to Rome. Come, Dolabella, see High order in this great solemnity.
CITIZEN1  Before we proceed any further, hear me speak.
ALL  Speak, speak.
CITIZEN1  You are all resolved rather to die than to famish?
ALL  Resolved, resolved.
CITIZEN1  First, you know Caius Marcius is chief enemy to the people.
ALL  We knowt, we knowt.
CITIZEN1  Let us kill him, and well have corn at our own price. Ist a verdict?
ALL  No more talking ont, let it be done. Away, away
CITIZEN2  One word, good citizens.
CITIZEN1  We are accounted poor citizens, the patricians good. What authority surfeits on would relieve us. If they would yield us but the superfluity, while it were wholesome, we might guess they relieved us humanely, but they think we are too dear the leanness that afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an inventory to particularise their abundance, our sufferance is a gain to them. Let us revenge this with our pikes, ere we become rakes for the gods know I speak this in hunger for bread, not in thirst for revenge.
CITIZEN2  Would you proceed especially against Caius Marcius?
CITIZEN1  Against him first hes a very dog to the commonalty.
CITIZEN2  Consider you what services he has done for his country?
CITIZEN1  Very well, and could be content to give him good report fort, but that he pays himself with being proud.
CITIZEN2  Nay, but speak not maliciously.
CITIZEN1  I say unto you, what he hath done famously, he did it to that end though soft-conscienced men can be content to say it was for his country, he did it to please his mother, and to be partly proud, which he is, even to the altitude of his virtue.
CITIZEN2  What he cannot help in his nature, you account a vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous.
ALL  Come, come.
CITIZEN1  Soft who comes here?
CITIZEN2  Worthy Menenius Agrippa, one that hath always loved the people.
CITIZEN1  Hes one honest enough would all the rest were so
MENENIUS  What works, my countrymen, in hand? Where go you With bats and clubs? The matter? Speak, I pray you.
CITIZEN1  Our business is not unknown to the senate, they have had inkling this fortnight what we intend to do, which now well show em in deeds. They say poor suitors have strong breaths they shall know we have strong arms too.
MENENIUS  Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbours, Will you undo yourselves?
CITIZEN1  We cannot, sir, we are undone already.
MENENIUS  I tell you, friends, most charitable care Have the patricians of you. For your wants, Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them Against the Roman state, whose course will on The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs Of more strong link asunder than can ever Appear in your impediment. For the dearth, The gods, not the patricians, make it, and Your knees to them, not arms, must help. Alack You are transported by calamity Thither where more attends you, and you slander The helms o the state, who care for you like fathers, When you curse them as enemies.
CITIZEN1  Care for us True, indeed They neer cared for us yet suffer us to famish, and their storehouses crammed with grain, make edicts for usury, to support usurers, repeal daily any wholesome act established against the rich, and provide more piercing statutes daily to chain up and restrain the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will, and theres all the love they bear us.
MENENIUS  Either you must Confess yourselves wondrous malicious, Or be accusd of folly. I shall tell you A pretty tale it may be you have heard it, But, since it serves my purpose, I will venture To scalet a little more.
CITIZEN1  Well, Ill hear it, sir, yet you must not think to fob off our disgrace with a tale, but, ant please you, deliver.
MENENIUS  There was a time when all the bodys members Rebelld against the belly, thus accusd it That only like a gulf it did remain I the midst o the body, idle and unactive, Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing Like labour with the rest, where the other instruments Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel, And, mutually participate, did minister Unto the appetite and affection common Of the whole body. The belly answerd,—
CITIZEN1  Well, sir, what answer made the belly?
MENENIUS  Sir, I shall tell you.—With a kind of smile, Which neer came from the lungs, but even thus— For, look you, I may make the belly smile As well as speak—it tauntingly replied To the discontented members, the mutinous parts That envied his receipt, even so most fitly As you malign our senators for that They are not such as you.
CITIZEN1  Your bellys answer? What The kingly crowned head, the vigilant eye, The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier, Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter, With other muniments and petty helps In this our fabric, if that they—
MENENIUS  What then?— Fore me, this fellow speaks what then? what then?
CITIZEN1  Should by the cormorant belly be restraind, Who is the sink o the body,—
MENENIUS  Well, what then?
CITIZEN1  The former agents, if they did complain, What could the belly answer?
MENENIUS  I will tell you, If youll bestow a small, of what you have little, Patience a while, youll hear the bellys answer.
CITIZEN1  Youre long about it.
MENENIUS  Note me this, good friend, Your most grave belly was deliberate, Not rash like his accusers, and thus answerd True is it, my incorporate friends, quoth he, That I receive the general food at first, Which you do live upon, and fit it is, Because I am the store-house and the shop Of the whole body but, if you do remember, I send it through the rivers of your blood, Even to the court, the heart, to the seat o the brain, And, through the cranks and offices of man, The strongest nerves and small inferior veins From me receive that natural competency Whereby they live. And though that all at once, You, my good friends,—this says the belly, mark me,—
CITIZEN1  Ay, sir, well, well.
MENENIUS  Though all at once cannot See what I do deliver out to each, Yet I can make my audit up, that all From me do back receive the flour of all, And leave me but the bran. What say you tot?
CITIZEN1  It was an answer how apply you this?
MENENIUS  The senators of Rome are this good belly, And you the mutinous members, for, examine Their counsels and their cares, digest things rightly Touching the weal o the common, you shall find No public benefit which you receive But it proceeds or comes from them to you, And no way from yourselves. What do you think, You, the great toe of this assembly?
CITIZEN1  I the great toe? Why the great toe?
MENENIUS  For that, being one o the lowest, basest, poorest, Of this most wise rebellion, thou gost foremost Thou rascal, that art worst in blood to run, Leadst first to win some vantage. But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs Rome and her rats are at the point of battle, The one side must have bale.
MARCIUS  Thanks.—Whats the matter, you dissentious rogues, That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion, Make yourselves scabs?
CITIZEN1  We have ever your good word.
MARCIUS  He that will give good words to thee will flatter Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs, That like nor peace nor war? the one affrights you, The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you, Where he should find you lions, finds you hares, Where foxes, geese you are no surer, no, Than is the coal of fire upon the ice, Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is, To make him worthy whose offence subdues him, And curse that justice did it. Who deserves greatness Deserves your hate, and your affections are A sick mans appetite, who desires most that Which would increase his evil. He that depends Upon your favours swims with fins of lead And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye Trust ye? With every minute you do change a mind, And call him noble that was now your hate, Him vile that was your garland. Whats the matter, That in these several places of the city You cry against the noble senate, who, Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else Would feed on one another? Whats their seeking?
MENENIUS  For corn at their own rates, whereof they say The city is well stord.
MARCIUS  Hang em They say Theyll sit by the fire, and presume to know Whats done i the Capitol, whos like to rise, Who thrives, and who declines, side factions, and give out Conjectural marriages, making parties strong, And feebling such as stand not in their liking, Below their cobbled shoes. They say theres grain enough Would the nobility lay aside their ruth, And let me use my sword, Id make a quarry With thousands of these quarterd slaves, as high As I could pick my lance.
MENENIUS  Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded, For though abundantly they lack discretion, Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I beseech you, What says the other troop?
MARCIUS  They are dissolvd hang em They said they were an-hungry, sighd forth proverbs That hunger broke stone walls, that dogs must eat, That meat was made for mouths, that the gods sent not Corn for the rich men only. With these shreds They vented their complainings, which being answerd, And a petition granted them, a strange one,— To break the heart of generosity, And make bold power look pale,—they threw their caps As they would hang them on the horns o the moon, Shouting their emulation.
MENENIUS  What is granted them?
MARCIUS  Five tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdoms, Of their own choice ones Junius Brutus, Sicinius Velutus, and I know not—Sdeath The rabble should have first unroofd the city, Ere so prevaild with me, it will in time Win upon power, and throw forth greater themes For insurrections arguing.
MENENIUS  This is strange.
MARCIUS  Go, get you home, you fragments
MESSENGER  Wheres Caius Marcius?
MARCIUS  Here whats the matter?
MESSENGER  The news is, sir, the Volsces are in arms.
MARCIUS  I am glad ont, then we shall ha means to vent Our musty superfluity. See, our best elders.
SENATOR1  Marcius, tis true that you have lately told us, The Volsces are in arms.
MARCIUS  They have a leader, Tullus Aufidius, that will put you tot. I sin in envying his nobility, And were I anything but what I am, I would wish me only he.
COMINIUS  You have fought together.
MARCIUS  Were half to half the world by the ears, and he Upon my party, Id revolt, to make Only my wars with him he is a lion That I am proud to hunt.
SENATOR1  Then, worthy Marcius, Attend upon Cominius to these wars.
COMINIUS  It is your former promise.
MARCIUS  Sir, it is, And I am constant. Titus Lartius, thou Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus face. What art thou stiff? standst out?
LARTIUS  No, Caius Marcius, Ill lean upon one crutch and fight with tother, Ere stay behind this business.
MENENIUS  O true-bred.
SENATOR1  Your company to the Capitol, where I know Our greatest friends attend us.
COMINIUS  Noble Marcius
MARCIUS  Nay, let them follow The Volsces have much corn, take these rats thither To gnaw their garners. Worshipful mutiners, Your valour puts well forth, pray, follow.
SICINIUS  Was ever man so proud as is this Marcius?
BRUTUS  He has no equal.
SICINIUS  When we were chosen tribunes for the people,—
BRUTUS  Markd you his lip and eyes?
SICINIUS  Nay, but his taunts.
BRUTUS  Being movd, he will not spare to gird the gods.
SICINIUS  Bemock the modest moon.
BRUTUS  The present wars devour him, he is grown Too proud to be so valiant.
SICINIUS  Such a nature, Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow Which he treads on at noon. But I do wonder His insolence can brook to be commanded Under Cominius.
BRUTUS  Fame, at the which he aims, In whom already he is well gracd, cannot Better be held nor more attaind than by A place below the first, for what miscarries Shall be the generals fault, though he perform To the utmost of a man, and giddy censure Will then cry out of Marcius O if he Had borne the business.
SICINIUS  Besides, if things go well, Opinion, that so sticks on Marcius, shall Of his demerits rob Cominius.
BRUTUS  Come Half all Cominius honours are to Marcius, Though Marcius earnd them not, and all his faults To Marcius shall be honours, though indeed In aught he merit not.
SICINIUS  Lets hence and hear How the dispatch is made, and in what fashion, More than his singularity, he goes Upon this present action.
BRUTUS  Lets along.
SENATOR1  So, your opinion is, Aufidius, That they of Rome are enterd in our counsels, And know how we proceed.
AUFIDIUS  Is it not yours? What ever have been thought on in this state, That could be brought to bodily act ere Rome Had circumvention? Tis not four days gone Since I heard thence, these are the words I think I have the letter here, yes, here it is. They have pressd a power, but it is not known Whether for east, or west the dearth is great, The people mutinous, and it is rumourd, Cominius, Marcius, your old enemy,— Who is of Rome worse hated than of you,— And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman, These three lead on this preparation Whither tis bent most likely tis for you Consider of it.
SENATOR1  Our armys in the field We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready To answer us.
AUFIDIUS  Nor did you think it folly To keep your great pretences veild till when They needs must show themselves, which in the hatching, It seemd, appeard to Rome. By the discovery We shall be shortend in our aim, which was To take in many towns ere almost Rome Should know we were afoot.
SENATOR2  Noble Aufidius, Take your commission, hie you to your bands, Let us alone to guard Corioli If they set down befores, for the remove Bring up your army, but, I think youll find Theyve not prepared for us.
AUFIDIUS  O doubt not that, I speak from certainties. Nay, more, Some parcels of their power are forth already, And only hitherward. I leave your honours. If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet, Tis sworn between us we shall ever strike Till one can do no more.
ALL  The gods assist you
AUFIDIUS  And keep your honours safe
SENATOR1  Farewell.
SENATOR2  Farewell.
ALL  Farewell.
VOLUMNIA  I pray you, daughter, sing, or express yourself in a more comfortable sort. If my son were my husband, I would freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he won honour than in the embracements of his bed where he would show most love. When yet he was but tender-bodied and the only son of my womb, when youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way, when for a day of kings entreaties a mother should not sell him an hour from her beholding, I, considering how honour would become such a person, that it was no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if renown made it not stir, was pleased to let him seek danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel war I sent him, from whence he returned, his brows bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I sprang not more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child than now in first seeing he had proved himself a man.
VIRGILIA  But had he died in the business, madam, how then?
VOLUMNIA  Then, his good report should have been my son, I therein would have found issue. Hear me profess sincerely had I a dozen sons, each in my love alike, and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.
GENTLEWOMAN  Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you.
VIRGILIA  Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself.
VOLUMNIA  Indeed, you shall not. Methinks I hear hither your husbands drum, See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair, As children from a bear, the Volsces shunning him Methinks I see him stamp thus, and call thus Come on, you cowards you were got in fear, Though you were born in Rome. His bloody brow With his maild hand then wiping, forth he goes, Like to a harvestman thats taskd to mow Or all or lose his hire.
VIRGILIA  His bloody brow O Jupiter no blood.
VOLUMNIA  Away, you fool it more becomes a man Than gilt his trophy the breasts of Hecuba, When she did suckle Hector, lookd not lovelier Than Hectors forehead when it spit forth blood At Grecian swords, contemning. Tell Valeria We are fit to bid her welcome.
VIRGILIA  Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius
VOLUMNIA  Hell beat Aufidius head below his knee, And tread upon his neck.
VALERIA  My ladies both, good day to you.
VOLUMNIA  Sweet madam.
VIRGILIA  I am glad to see your ladyship.
VALERIA  How do you both? you are manifest housekeepers. What are you sewing here? A fine spot, in good faith. How does your little son?
VIRGILIA  I thank your ladyship, well, good madam.
VOLUMNIA  He had rather see the swords and hear a drum, than look upon his schoolmaster.
VALERIA  O my word, the fathers son, Ill swear tis a very pretty boy. O my troth, I looked upon him o Wednesday half an hour together he has such a confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a gilded butterfly, and when he caught it, he let it go again, and after it again, and over and over he comes, and up again, catched it again or whether his fall enraged him, or how twas, he did so set his teeth and tear it, O I warrant, how he mammocked it
VOLUMNIA  One ons fathers moods.
VALERIA  Indeed, la, tis a noble child.
VIRGILIA  A crack, madam.
VALERIA  Come, lay aside your stitchery, I must have you play the idle huswife with me this afternoon.
VIRGILIA  No, good madam, I will not out of doors.
VALERIA  Not out of doors
VOLUMNIA  She shall, she shall.
VIRGILIA  Indeed, no, by your patience, Ill not over the threshold till my lord return from the wars.
VOLUMNIA  Fie you confine yourself most unreasonably. Come, you must go visit the good lady that lies in.
VIRGILIA  I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with my prayers, but I cannot go thither.
VOLUMNIA  Why, I pray you?
VIRGILIA  Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love.
VALERIA  You would be another Penelope, yet, they say, all the yarn she spun in Ulysses absence did but fill Ithaca full of moths. Come, I would your cambric were sensible as your finger, that you might leave pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us.
VIRGILIA  No, good madam, pardon me, indeed, I will not forth.
VALERIA  In truth, la, go with me, and Ill tell you excellent news of your husband.
VIRGILIA  O, good madam, there can be none yet.
VALERIA  Verily, I do not jest with you, there came news from him last night.
VIRGILIA  Indeed, madam?
VALERIA  In earnest, its true, I heard a senator speak it. Thus it is The Volsces have an army forth, against whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of our Roman power your lord and Titus Lartius are set down before their city Corioli, they nothing doubt prevailing and to make it brief wars. This is true, on mine honour, and so, I pray, go with us.
VIRGILIA  Give me excuse, good madam, I will obey you in every thing hereafter.
VOLUMNIA  Let her alone, lady as she is now she will but disease our better mirth.
VALERIA  In troth, I think she would. Fare you well then. Come, good sweet lady. Prithee, Virgilia, turn thy solemness out o door, and go along with us.
VIRGILIA  No, at a word, madam, indeed I must not. I wish you much mirth.
VALERIA  Well then, farewell.
MARCIUS  Yonder comes news a wager they have met.
LARTIUS  My horse to yours, no.
MARCIUS  Tis done.
LARTIUS  Agreed.
MARCIUS  Say, has our general met the enemy?
MESSENGER  They lie in view, but have not spoke as yet.
LARTIUS  So the good horse is mine.
MARCIUS  Ill buy him of you.
LARTIUS  No, Ill nor sell nor give him, lend you him I will For half a hundred years. Summon the town.
MARCIUS  How far off lie these armies?
MESSENGER  Within this mile and half.
MARCIUS  Then shall we hear their larum, and they ours. Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work, That we with smoking swords may march from hence, To help our fielded friends Come, blow thy blast.
MARCIUS  O they are at it
LARTIUS  Their noise be our instruction. Ladders, ho
MARCIUS  They fear us not, but issue forth their city. Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight With hearts more proof than shields. Advance, brave Titus They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts, Which makes me sweat with wrath. Come on, my fellows He that retires, Ill take him for a Volsce, And he shall feel mine edge.
SOLDIER1  Foolhardiness not I.
SOLDIER2  Nor I.
SOLDIER3  See, they have shut him in.
LARTIUS  What is become of Marcius?
ALL  Slain, sir, doubtless.
SOLDIER1  Following the fliers at the very heels, With them he enters, who, upon the sudden, Clappd-to their gates, he is himself alone, To answer all the city.
LARTIUS  O noble fellow Who, sensibly, outdares his senseless sword, And, when it bows, stands up. Thou art left, Marcius A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art, Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier Even to Catos wish, not fierce and terrible Only in strokes, but, with thy grim looks and The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds, Thou madst thine enemies shake, as if the world Were feverous and did tremble.
SOLDIER1  Look, sir
LARTIUS  O tis Marcius Lets fetch him off, or make remain alike.
ROMAN1  This will I carry to Rome.
ROMAN2  And I this.
MARCIUS  See here these movers that do prize their hours At a crackd drachme Cushions, leaden spoons, Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves, Ere yet the fight be done, pack up. Down with them And hark, what noise the general makes To him There is the man of my souls hate, Aufidius, Piercing our Romans then, valiant Titus, take Convenient numbers to make good the city, Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste To help Cominius.
LARTIUS  Worthy sir, thou bleedst, Thy exercise hath been too violent For a second course of fight.
MARCIUS  Sir, praise me not, My work hath yet not warmd me fare you well The blood I drop is rather physical Than dangerous to me to Aufidius thus I will appear, and fight.
LARTIUS  Now the fair goddess, Fortune, Fall deep in love with thee, and her great charms Misguide thy opposers swords Bold gentleman, Prosperity be thy page
MARCIUS  Thy friend no less Than those she places highest So, farewell.
LARTIUS  Thou worthiest Marcius— Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place, Call thither all the officers of the town, Where they shall know our mind. Away
COMINIUS  Breathe you, my friends well fought, we are come off Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands, Nor cowardly in retire believe me, sirs, We shall be chargd again. Whiles we have struck, By interims and conveying gusts we have heard The charges of our friends. Ye Roman gods Lead their successes as we wish our own, That both our powers, with smiling fronts encountering, May give you thankful sacrifice.
MESSENGER  The citizens of Corioli have issud, And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle I saw our party to their trenches driven, And then I came away.
COMINIUS  Though thou speakst truth, Methinks thou speakst not well. How long ist since?
MESSENGER  Above an hour, my lord.
COMINIUS  Tis not a mile, briefly we heard their drums How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour, And bring thy news so late?
MESSENGER  Spies of the Volsces Held me in chase, that I was forcd to wheel Three or four miles about, else had I, sir, Half an hour since brought my report.
COMINIUS  Whos yonder, That does appear as he were flayd? O gods He has the stamp of Marcius, and I have Before-time seen him thus.
COMINIUS  The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabor, More than I know the sound of Marcius tongue From every meaner man.
MARCIUS  Come I too late?
COMINIUS  Ay, if you come not in the blood of others, But mantled in your own.
MARCIUS  O let me clip ye In arms as sound as when I wood, in heart As merry as when our nuptial day was done, And tapers burnd to bedward.
COMINIUS  Flower of warriors. How ist with Titus Lartius?
MARCIUS  As with a man busied about decrees Condemning some to death, and some to exile, Ransoming him, or pitying, threatning the other, Holding Corioli in the name of Rome, Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, To let him slip at will.
COMINIUS  Where is that slave Which told me they had beat you to your trenches? Where is he? Call him hither.
MARCIUS  Let him alone, He did inform the truth but for our gentlemen, The common file—a plague tribunes for them— The mouse neer shunnd the cat as they did budge From rascals worse than they.
COMINIUS  But how prevaild you?
MARCIUS  Will the time serve to tell? I do not think. Where is the enemy? Are you lords o the field? If not, why cease you till you are so?
COMINIUS  Marcius, we have at disadvantage fought, And did retire to win our purpose.
MARCIUS  How lies their battle? Know you on which side They have placd their men of trust?
COMINIUS  As I guess, Marcius, Their bands i the vaward are the Antiates, Of their best trust, oer them Aufidius, Their very heart of hope.
MARCIUS  I do beseech you, By all the battles wherein we have fought, By the blood we have shed together, by the vows We have made to endure friends, that you directly Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates, And that you not delay the present, but, Filling the air with swords advancd and darts, We prove this very hour.
COMINIUS  Though I could wish You were conducted to a gentle bath, And balms applied to you, yet dare I never Deny your asking take your choice of those That best can aid your action.
COMINIUS  March on, my fellows Make good this ostentation, and you shall Divide in all with us.
LARTIUS  So, let the ports be guarded keep your duties, As I have set them down. If I do send, dispatch Those centuries to our aid, the rest will serve For a short holding if we lose the field, We cannot keep the town.
LIEUTENANT  Fear not our care, sir.
LARTIUS  Hence, and shut your gates upon us. Our guider, come, to the Roman camp conduct us.
MARCIUS  Ill fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee Worse than a promise-breaker.
AUFIDIUS  We hate alike Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot.
MARCIUS  Let the first budger die the others slave, And the gods doom him after
AUFIDIUS  If I fly, Marcius, Halloo me like a hare.
MARCIUS  Within these three hours, Tullus, Alone I fought in your Corioli walls, And made what work I pleasd, tis not my blood Wherein thou seest me maskd, for thy revenge Wrench up thy power to the highest.
COMINIUS  If I should tell thee oer this thy days work, Thoult not believe thy deeds but Ill report it Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles, Where great patricians shall attend and shrug, I the end, admire, where ladies shall be frighted, And, gladly quakd, hear more, where the dull Tribunes, That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours, Shall say, against their hearts, We thank the gods our Rome hath such a soldier Yet camst thou to a morsel of this feast, Having fully dind before.
LARTIUS  O general, Here is the steed, we the caparison Hadst thou beheld—
MARCIUS  Pray now, no more my mother, Who has a charter to extol her blood, When she does praise me grieves me. I have done As you have done, thats what I can, inducd As you have been, thats for my country He that has but effected his good will Hath overtaen mine act.
COMINIUS  You shall not be The grave of your deserving, Rome must know The value of her own twere a concealment Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement, To hide your doings, and to silence that, Which, to the spire and top of praises vouchd, Would seem but modest. Therefore, I beseech you,— In sign of what you are, not to reward What you have done,—before our army hear me.
MARCIUS  I have some wounds upon me, and they smart To hear themselves rememberd.
COMINIUS  Should they not. Well might they fester gainst ingratitude, And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses, Whereof we have taen good, and good store, of all The treasure, in this field achievd and city, We render you the tenth, to be taen forth, Before the common distribution, At your only choice.
MARCIUS  I thank you, general, But cannot make my heart consent to take A bribe to pay my sword I do refuse it, And stand upon my common part with those That have beheld the doing.
MARCIUS  May these same instruments, which you profane, Never sound more When drums and trumpets shall I the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be Made all of false-facd soothing When steel grows soft as is the parasites silk, Let him be made a coverture for the wars No more, I say For that I have not washd My nose that bled, or foild some debile wretch, Which, without note, heres many else have done, You shout me forth In acclamations hyperbolical, As if I lovd my little should be dieted In praises saucd with lies.
ALL  Caius Marcius Coriolanus
CORIOLANUS  I will go wash, And when my face is fair, you shall perceive Whether I blush, or no howbeit, I thank you. I mean to stride your steed, and at all times To undercrest your good addition To the fairness of my power.
COMINIUS  So, to our tent, Where, ere we do repose us, we will write To Rome of our success. You, Titus Lartius, Must to Corioli back send us to Rome The best, with whom we may articulate, For their own good and ours.
LARTIUS  I shall, my lord.
CORIOLANUS  The gods begin to mock me. I, that now Refusd most princely gifts, am bound to beg Of my lord general.
COMINIUS  Take it, tis yours. What ist?
CORIOLANUS  I sometime lay here in Corioli At a poor mans house, he usd me kindly He cried to me, I saw him prisoner, But then Aufidius was within my view, And wrath oerwhelmd my pity I request you To give my poor host freedom.
COMINIUS  O well beggd Were he the butcher of my son, he should Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus.
LARTIUS  Marcius, his name?
CORIOLANUS  By Jupiter forgot. I am weary, yea, my memory is tird. Have we no wine here?
COMINIUS  Go we to our tent The blood upon your visage dries, tis time It should be lookd to come.
AUFIDIUS  The town is taen
SOLDIER1  Twill be deliverd back on good condition.
AUFIDIUS  Condition I would I were a Roman, for I cannot, Being a Volsce, be that I am. Condition What good condition can a treaty find I the part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius, I have fought with thee, so often hast thou beat me, And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter As often as we eat. By the elements, If eer again I meet him beard to beard, He is mine, or I am his mine emulation Hath not that honour int it had, for where I thought to crush him in an equal force— True sword to sword—Ill potch at him some way Or wrath or craft may get him.
SOLDIER1  Hes the devil.
AUFIDIUS  Bolder, though not so subtle. My valours poisond With only suffering stain by him, for him Shall fly out of itself. Nor sleep nor sanctuary, Being naked, sick, nor fane nor Capitol, The prayers of priests, nor times of sacrifice, Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up Their rotten privilege and custom gainst My hate to Marcius. Where I find him, were it At home, upon my brothers guard, even there Against the hospitable canon, would I Wash my fierce hand in s heart. Go you to the city, Learn how tis held, and what they are that must Be hostages for Rome.
SOLDIER1  Will not you go?
AUFIDIUS  I am attended at the cypress grove I pray you— Tis south the city mills—bring me word thither How the world goes, that to the pace of it I may spur on my journey.
SOLDIER1  I shall, sir.
MENENIUS  The augurer tells me we shall have news to-night.
BRUTUS  Good or bad?
MENENIUS  Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius.
SICINIUS  Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.
MENENIUS  Pray you, who does the wolf love?
SICINIUS  The lamb.
MENENIUS  Ay, to devour him, as the hungry plebeians would the noble Marcius.
BRUTUS  Hes a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear.
MENENIUS  Hes a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two are old men, tell me one thing that I shall ask you.
SICINIUS  Well, sir.
BRUTUS  Well, sir.
MENENIUS  In what enormity is Marcius poor in, that you two have not in abundance?
BRUTUS  Hes poor in no one fault, but stored with all.
SICINIUS  Especially in pride.
BRUTUS  And topping all others in boasting.
MENENIUS  This is strange now do you two know how you are censured here in the city, I mean of us o the right hand file? Do you?
BOTH  Why, how are we censured?
MENENIUS  Because you talk of pride now,—Will you not be angry?
BOTH  Well, well, sir, well.
MENENIUS  Why, tis no great matter, for a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience give your dispositions the reins, and be angry at your pleasures, at the least, if you take it as a pleasure to you in being so. You blame Marcius for being proud?
BRUTUS  We do it not alone, sir.
MENENIUS  I know you can do very little alone, for your helps are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous single your abilities are too infant-like, for doing much alone. You talk of pride O that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves. O that you could.
BRUTUS  What then, sir?
MENENIUS  Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates—alias fools—as any in Rome.
SICINIUS  Menenius, you are known well enough too.
MENENIUS  I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber int, said to be something imperfect in favouring the first complaint, hasty and tinder-like upon too trivial motion, one that converses more with the buttock of the night than with the forehead of the morning. What I think I utter, and spend my malice in my breath. Meeting two such wealsmen as you are,—I cannot call you Lycurguses,—if the drink you give me touch my palate adversely, I make a crooked face at it. I cannot say your worships have delivered the matter well when I find the ass in compound with the major part of your syllables, and though I must be content to bear with those that say you are reverend grave men, yet they lie deadly that tell you have good faces. If you see this in the map of my microcosm, follows it that I am known well enough too? What harm can your bisson conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be known well enough too?
BRUTUS  Come, sir, come, we know you well enough.
MENENIUS  You know neither me, yourselves, nor anything. You are ambitious for poor knaves caps and legs you wear out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing a cause between an orange-wife and a fosset-seller, and then rejourn the controversy of three-pence to a second day of audience. When you are hearing a matter between party and party, if you chance to be pinched with the colic, you make faces like mummers, set up the bloody flag against all patience, and, in roaring for a chamber-pot, dismiss the controversy bleeding, the more entangled by your hearing all the peace you make in their cause is, calling both the parties knaves. You are a pair of strange ones.
BRUTUS  Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter giber for the table than a necessary bencher in the Capitol.
VOLUMNIA  Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches, for the love of Juno, lets go.
MENENIUS  Ha Marcius coming home?
VOLUMNIA  Ay, worthy Menenius, and with most prosperous approbation.
MENENIUS  Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee. Hoo Marcius coming home
VOLUMNIA  Nay, tis true.
VIRGILIA  Nay, tis true.
VOLUMNIA  Look, heres a letter from him the state hath another, his wife another, and, I think, theres one at home for you.
MENENIUS  I will make my very house reel to-night. A letter for me
VIRGILIA  Yes, certain, theres a letter for you, I saw it.
MENENIUS  A letter for me It gives me an estate of seven years health, in which time I will make a lip at the physician the most sovereign prescription in Galen is but empiricutic, and, to this preservative, of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded.
VIRGILIA  O no, no, no.
VOLUMNIA  O he is wounded, I thank the gods fort.
MENENIUS  So do I too, if it be not too much. Brings a victory in his pocket? The wounds become him.
VOLUMNIA  On s brows, Menenius, he comes the third time home with the oaken garland.
MENENIUS  Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly?
VOLUMNIA  Titus Lartius writes they fought together, but Aufidius got off.
MENENIUS  And twas time for him too, Ill warrant him that an he had stayed by him I would not have been so fidiused for all the chests in Corioli, and the gold thats in them. Is the senate possessed of this?
VOLUMNIA  Good ladies, lets go. Yes, yes, yes, the senate has letters from the general, wherein he gives my son the whole name of the war. He hath in this action outdone his former deeds doubly.
VALERIA  In troth theres wondrous things spoke of him.
MENENIUS  Wondrous ay, I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing.
VIRGILIA  The gods grant them true
VOLUMNIA  True pow, wow.
VOLUMNIA  I the shoulder, and i the left arm there will be large cicatrices to show the people when he shall stand for his place. He received in the repulse of Tarquin seven hurts i the body.
MENENIUS  One i the neck, and two i the thigh, theres nine that I know.
VOLUMNIA  He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five wounds upon him.
VOLUMNIA  These are the ushers of Marcius before him he carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears Death, that dark spirit, in s nervy arm doth lie, Which, being advancd, declines, and then men die.
HERALD  Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight Within Corioli gates where he hath won, With fame, a name to Caius Marcius, these In honour follows Coriolanus. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus
ALL  Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus
CORIOLANUS  No more of this, it does offend my heart Pray now, no more.
COMINIUS  Look, sir, your mother
CORIOLANUS  O You have, I know, petitiond all the gods For my prosperity.
VOLUMNIA  Nay, my good soldier, up, My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and By deed-achieving honour newly namd,— What is it?—Coriolanus must I call thee? But O thy wife—
CORIOLANUS  My gracious silence, hail Wouldst thou have laughd had I come coffind home, That weepst to see me triumph? Ah my dear, Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear, And mothers that lack sons.
MENENIUS  Now, the gods crown thee
VOLUMNIA  I know not where to turn O welcome home, And welcome, general, and yere welcome all.
MENENIUS  A hundred thousand welcomes I could weep, And I could laugh, I am light, and heavy. Welcome. A curse begnaw at very root on s heart That is not glad to see thee You are three That Rome should dote on, yet, by the faith of men, We have some old crab-trees here at home that will not Be grafted to your relish. Yet, welcome, warriors We call a nettle but a nettle, and The faults of fools but folly.
COMINIUS  Ever right.
CORIOLANUS  Menenius, ever, ever.
HERALD  Give way there, and go on
VOLUMNIA  I have livd To see inherited my very wishes, And the buildings of my fancy only Theres one thing wanting, which I doubt not but Our Rome will cast upon thee.
CORIOLANUS  Know, good mother, I had rather be their servant in my way Than sway with them in theirs.
COMINIUS  On, to the Capitol
BRUTUS  All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights Are spectacled to see him your prattling nurse Into a rapture lets her baby cry While she chats him the kitchen malkin pins Her richest lockram bout her reechy neck, Clambering the walls to eye him stalls, bulks, windows, Are smotherd up, leads filld, and ridges horsd With variable complexions, all agreeing In earnestness to see him seld-shown flamens Do press among the popular throngs, and puff To win a vulgar station our veild dames Commit the war of white and damask in Their nicely-gawded cheeks to the wanton spoil Of Phœbus burning kisses such a pother As if that whatsoever god who leads him Were slily crept into his human powers, And gave him graceful posture.
SICINIUS  On the sudden I warrant him consul.
BRUTUS  Then our office may, During his power, go sleep.
SICINIUS  He cannot temperately transport his honours From where he should begin and end, but will Lose those he hath won.
BRUTUS  In that theres comfort.
SICINIUS  Doubt not, the commoners, for whom we stand, But they upon their ancient malice will Forget with the least cause these his new honours, Which that hell give them, make I as little question As he is proud to dot.
BRUTUS  I heard him swear, Were he to stand for consul, never would he Appear i the market-place, nor on him put The napless vesture of humility, Nor, showing, as the manner is, his wounds To the people, beg their stinking breaths.
SICINIUS  Tis right.
BRUTUS  It was his word. O he would miss it rather Than carry it but by the suit o the gentry to him And the desire of the nobles.
SICINIUS  I wish no better Than have him hold that purpose and to put it In execution.
BRUTUS  Tis most like he will.
SICINIUS  It shall be to him then, as our good wills, A sure destruction.
BRUTUS  So it must fall out To him or our authorities. For an end, We must suggest the people in what hatred He still hath held them, that to his power he would Have made them mules, silencd their pleaders, and Dispropertied their freedoms, holding them, In human action and capacity, Of no more soul nor fitness for the world Than camels in the war, who have their provand Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows For sinking under them.
SICINIUS  This, as you say, suggested At some time when his soaring insolence Shall teach the people—which time shall not want, If he be put upon t, and thats as easy As to set dogs on sheep—will be his fire To kindle their dry stubble, and their blaze Shall darken him for ever.
BRUTUS  Whats the matter?
MESSENGER  You are sent for to the Capitol. Tis thought That Marcius shall be consul. I have seen the dumb men throng to see him, and The blind to hear him speak matrons flung gloves, Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchers Upon him as he passd, the nobles bended, As to Joves statue, and the commons made A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts I never saw the like.
BRUTUS  Lets to the Capitol, And carry with us ears and eyes for the time, But hearts for the event.
SICINIUS  Have with you.
OFFICER1  Come, come, they are almost here. How many stand for consulships?
OFFICER2  Three, they say, but tis thought of every one Coriolanus will carry it.
OFFICER1  Thats a brave fellow, but hes vengeance proud, and loves not the common people.
OFFICER2  Faith, there have been many great men that have flattered the people, who neer loved them, and there be many that they have loved, they know not wherefore so that if they love they know not why, they hate upon no better a ground. Therefore, for Coriolanus neither to care whether they love or hate him manifests the true knowledge he has in their disposition, and out of his noble carelessness lets them plainly seet.
OFFICER1  If he did not care whether he had their love or no, he waved indifferently twixt doing them neither good nor harm, but he seeks their hate with greater devotion than they can render it him, and leaves nothing undone that may fully discover him their opposite. Now, to seem to affect the malice and displeasure of the people is as bad as that which he dislikes, to flatter them for their love.
OFFICER2  He hath deserved worthily of his country, and his ascent is not by such easy degrees as those who, having been supple and courteous to the people, bonneted, without any further deed to have them at all into their estimation and report, but he hath so planted his honours in their eyes, and his actions in their hearts, that for their tongues to be silent, and not confess so much, were a kind of ingrateful injury, to report otherwise, were a malice, that, giving itself the lie, would pluck reproof and rebuke from every ear that heard it.
OFFICER1  No more of him, he is a worthy man make way, they are coming.
MENENIUS  Having determind of the Volsces, and To send for Titus Lartius, it remains, As the main point of this our after-meeting, To gratify his noble service that Hath thus stood for his country therefore, please you, Most reverend and grave elders, to desire The present consul, and last general In our well-found successes, to report A little of that worthy work performd By Caius Marcius Coriolanus, whom We meet here both to thank and to remember With honours like himself.
SICINIUS  We are convented Upon a pleasing treaty, and have hearts Inclinable to honour and advance The theme of our assembly.
BRUTUS  Which the rather We shall be blessd to do, if he remember A kinder value of the people than He hath hereto prizd them at.
MENENIUS  Thats off, thats off, I would you rather had been silent. Please you To hear Cominius speak?
BRUTUS  Most willingly, But yet my caution was more pertinent Than the rebuke you give it.
SENATOR1  Sit, Coriolanus, never shame to hear What you have nobly done.
CORIOLANUS  Your honours pardon I had rather have my wounds to heal again Than hear say how I got them.
BRUTUS  Sir, I hope My words disbenchd you not.
CORIOLANUS  No, sir yet oft, When blows have made me stay, I fled from words. You soothd not, therefore hurt not. But your people, I love them as they weigh.
MENENIUS  Pray now, sit down.
CORIOLANUS  I had rather have one scratch my head i the sun When the alarum were struck than idly sit To hear my nothings monsterd.
MENENIUS  Masters of the people, Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter,— Thats thousand to one good one,—when you now see He had rather venture all his limbs for honour Than one on s ears to hear it. Proceed, Cominius.
COMINIUS  I shall lack voice the deeds of Coriolanus Should not be utterd feebly. It is held That valour is the chiefest virtue, and Most dignifies the haver if it be, The man I speak of cannot in the world Be singly counterpoisd. At sixteen years, When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought Beyond the mark of others, our then dictator, Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight, When with his Amazonian chin he drove The bristled lips before him. He bestrid An oer-pressd Roman, and i the consuls view Slew three opposers Tarquins self he met, And struck him on his knee in that days feats, When he might act the woman in the scene, He provd best man i the field, and for his meed Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age Man-enterd thus, he waxed like a sea, And in the brunt of seventeen battles since He lurchd all swords of the garland. For this last, Before and in Corioli, let me say, I cannot speak him home he stoppd the fliers, And by his rare example made the coward Turn terror into sport as weeds before A vessel under sail, so men obeyd, And fell below his stem his sword, deaths stamp, Where it did mark, it took, from face to foot He was a thing of blood, whose every motion Was timd with dying cries alone he enterd The mortal gate of the city, which he painted With shunless destiny, aidless came off, And with a sudden re-enforcement struck Corioli like a planet. Now alls his When by and by the din of war gan pierce His ready sense, then straight his doubled spirit Re-quickend what in flesh was fatigate, And to the battle came he, where he did Run reeking oer the lives of men, as if Twere a perpetual spoil, and till we calld Both field and city ours, he never stood To ease his breast with panting.
MENENIUS  Worthy man
SENATOR1  He cannot but with measure fit the honours Which we devise him.
COMINIUS  Our spoils he kickd at, And lookd upon things precious as they were The common muck o the world he covets less Than misery itself would give, rewards His deeds with doing them, and is content To spend the time to end it.
MENENIUS  Hes right noble Let him be calld for.
SENATOR1  Call Coriolanus.
OFFICER  He doth appear.
MENENIUS  The senate, Coriolanus, are well pleasd To make thee consul.
CORIOLANUS  I do owe them still My life and services.
MENENIUS  It then remains That you do speak to the people.
CORIOLANUS  I do beseech you, Let me oerleap that custom, for I cannot Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat them, For my wounds sake, to give their suffrage please you, That I may pass this doing.
SICINIUS  Sir, the people Must have their voices, neither will they bate One jot of ceremony.
MENENIUS  Put them not to t Pray you, go fit you to the custom, and Take to you, as your predecessors have, Your honour with your form.
CORIOLANUS  It is a part That I shall blush in acting, and might well Be taken from the people.
CORIOLANUS  To brag unto them, thus I did, and thus, Show them the unaching scars which I should hide, As if I had receivd them for the hire Of their breath only
MENENIUS  Do not stand upont. We recommend to you, tribunes of the people, Our purpose to them, and to our noble consul Wish we all joy and honour.
SENATOR  To Coriolanus come all joy and honour
BRUTUS  You see how he intends to use the people.
SICINIUS  May they perceive s intent He will require them, As if he did contemn what he requested Should be in them to give.
BRUTUS  Come, well inform them Of our proceedings here on the market-place I know they do attend us.
CITIZEN1  Once, if he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him.
CITIZEN2  We may, sir, if we will.
CITIZEN3  We have power in ourselves to do it, but it is a power that we have no power to do, for if he show us his wounds, and tell us his deeds, we are to put our tongues into those wounds and speak for them, so, if he tell us his noble deeds, we must also tell him our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is monstrous, and for the multitude to be ingrateful were to make a monster of the multitude, of the which, we being members, should bring ourselves to be monstrous members.
CITIZEN1  And to make us no better thought of, a little help will serve, for once we stood up about the corn, he himself stuck not to call us the many-headed multitude.
CITIZEN3  We have been called so of many, not that our heads are some brown, some black, some abram, some bald, but that our wits are so diversely coloured and truly I think, if all our wits were to issue out of one skull, they would fly east, west, north, south, and their consent of one direct way should be at once to all the points o the compass.
CITIZEN2  Think you so? Which way do you judge my wit would fly?
CITIZEN3  Nay, your wit will not so soon out as another mans will, tis strongly wedged up in a block-head, but if it were at liberty, twould, sure, southward.
CITIZEN2  Why that way?
CITIZEN3  To lose itself in a fog, where being three parts melted away with rotten dews, the fourth would return for conscience sake, to help to get thee a wife.
CITIZEN2  You are never without your tricks. you may, you may.
CITIZEN3  Are you all resolved to give your voices? But thats no matter, the greater part carries it. I say, if he would incline to the people, there was never a worthier man.
ALL  Content, content.
MENENIUS  O, sir, you are not right have you not known The worthiest men have donet?
CORIOLANUS  What must I say? I pray, sir,—Plague upont I cannot bring My tongue to such a pace. Look, sir, my wounds I got them in my countrys service, when Some certain of your brethren roard and ran From the noise of our own drums.
MENENIUS  O me the gods You must not speak of that you must desire them To think upon you.
CORIOLANUS  Think upon me Hang em I would they would forget me, like the virtues Which our divines lose by em.
MENENIUS  Youll mar all Ill leave you. Pray you, speak to em, I pray you, In wholesome manner.
CORIOLANUS  Bid them wash their faces, And keep their teeth clean. So, here comes a brace.
CITIZEN1  We do, sir, tell us what hath brought you to t.
CORIOLANUS  Mine own desert.
CITIZEN2  Your own desert
CORIOLANUS  Ay, not mine own desire.
CITIZEN1  How not your own desire?
CORIOLANUS  No, sir, twas never my desire yet to trouble the poor with begging.
CITIZEN1  You must think, if we give you any thing, we hope to gain by you.
CORIOLANUS  Well, then, I pray, your price o the consulship?
CITIZEN1  The price is, to ask it kindly.
CORIOLANUS  Kindly sir, I pray, let me ha t I have wounds to show you, which shall be yours in private. Your good voice, sir, what say you?
CITIZEN2  You shall ha t, worthy sir.
CORIOLANUS  A match, sir. There is in all two worthy voices begged. I have your alms adieu.
CITIZEN1  But this is something odd.
CITIZEN2  An twere to give again,—but tis no matter.
CORIOLANUS  Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your voices that I may be consul, I have here the customary gown.
CITIZEN3  You have deserved nobly of your country, and you have not deserved nobly.
CORIOLANUS  Your enigma?
CITIZEN3  You have been a scourge to her enemies, you have been a rod to her friends, you have not indeed loved the common people.
CORIOLANUS  You should account me the more virtuous that I have not been common in my love. I will, sir, flatter my sworn brother the people, to earn a dearer estimation of them, tis a condition they account gentle and since the wisdom of their choice is rather to have my hat than my heart, I will practise the insinuating nod, and be off to them most counterfeitly, that is, sir, I will counterfeit the bewitchment of some popular man, and give it bountifully to the desirers. Therefore, beseech you, I may be consul.
CITIZEN4  We hope to find you our friend, and therefore give you our voices heartily.
CITIZEN3  You have received many wounds for your country.
CORIOLANUS  I will not seal your knowledge with showing them. I will make much of your voices, and so trouble you no further.
CITIZEN5  He has done nobly, and cannot go without any honest mans voice.
CITIZEN6  Therefore let him be consul. The gods give him joy, and make him good friend to the people
ALL  Amen, amen. God save thee, noble consul
CORIOLANUS  Worthy voices
MENENIUS  You have stood your limitation, and the tribunes Endue you with the peoples voice remains That, in the official marks invested, you Anon do meet the senate.
CORIOLANUS  Is this done?
SICINIUS  The custom of request you have dischargd The people do admit you, and are summond To meet anon, upon your approbation.
CORIOLANUS  Where? at the senate-house?
SICINIUS  There, Coriolanus.
CORIOLANUS  May I change these garments?
SICINIUS  You may, sir.
CORIOLANUS  That Ill straight do, and, knowing myself again, Repair to the senate-house.
MENENIUS  Ill keep you company. Will you along?
BRUTUS  We stay here for the people.
SICINIUS  Fare you well. He has it now, and by his looks, methinks, Tis warm ats heart.
BRUTUS  With a proud heart he wore His humble weeds. Will you dismiss the people?
SICINIUS  How now, my masters have you chose this man?
CITIZEN1  He has our voices, sir.
BRUTUS  We pray the gods he may deserve your love.
CITIZEN2  Amen, sir. To my poor unworthy notice, He mockd us when he beggd our voices.
CITIZEN3  Certainly, He flouted us downright.
CITIZEN1  No, tis his kind of speech, he did not mock us.
CITIZEN2  Not one amongst us, save yourself, but says He used us scornfully he should have showd us His marks of merit, wounds receivd fors country.
SICINIUS  Why, so he did, I am sure.
ALL  No, no, no man saw em.
CITIZEN3  He said he had wounds, which he could show in private, And with his hat, thus waving it in scorn, I would be consul, says he aged custom, But by your voices, will not so permit me, Your voices therefore when we granted that, Here was, I thank you for your voices, thank you, Your most sweet voices now you have left your voices I have no further with you. Was not this mockery?
SICINIUS  Why, either were you ignorant to see t, Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness To yield your voices?
BRUTUS  Could you not have told him As you were lessond, when he had no power, But was a petty servant to the state, He was your enemy, ever spake against Your liberties and the charters that you bear I the body of the weal, and now, arriving A place of potency and sway o the state, If he should still malignantly remain Fast foe to the plebeii, your voices might Be curses to yourselves? You should have said That as his worthy deeds did claim no less Than what he stood for, so his gracious nature Would think upon you for your voices and Translate his malice towards you into love, Standing your friendly lord.
SICINIUS  Thus to have said, As you were fore-advisd, had touchd his spirit And tried his inclination, from him pluckd Either his gracious promise, which you might, As cause had calld you up, have held him to, Or else it would have galld his surly nature, Which easily endures not article Tying him to aught, so, putting him to rage, You should have taen the advantage of his choler, And passd him unelected.
BRUTUS  Did you perceive He did solicit you in free contempt When he did need your loves, and do you think That his contempt shall not be bruising to you When he hath power to crush? Why, had your bodies No heart among you? or had you tongues to cry Against the rectorship of judgment?
SICINIUS  Have you Ere now denied the asker? and now again Of him that did not ask, but mock, bestow Your sud-for tongues?
CITIZEN3  Hes not confirmd, we may deny him yet.
CITIZEN2  And will deny him Ill have five hundred voices of that sound.
CITIZEN1  Ay, twice five hundred and their friends to piece em.
BRUTUS  Get you hence instantly, and tell those friends, They have chose a consul that will from them take Their liberties, make them of no more voice Than dogs that are as often beat for barking As therefore kept to do so.
SICINIUS  Let them assemble, And, on a safer judgment, all revoke Your ignorant election. Enforce his pride, And his old hate unto you, besides, forget not With what contempt he wore the humble weed, How in his suit he scornd you, but your loves, Thinking upon his services, took from you The apprehension of his present portance, Which most gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion After the inveterate hate he bears you.
BRUTUS  Lay A fault on us, your tribunes, that we labourd,— No impediment between,—but that you must Cast your election on him.
SICINIUS  Say, you chose him More after our commandment than as guided By your own true affections, and that, your minds, Pre-occupied with what you rather must do Than what you should, made you against the grain To voice him consul lay the fault on us.
BRUTUS  Ay, spare us not. Say we read lectures to you, How youngly he began to serve his country, How long continud, and what stock he springs of, The noble house o the Marcians, from whence came That Ancus Marcius, Numas daughters son, Who, after great Hostilius, here was king, Of the same house Publius and Quintus were, That our best water brought by conduits hither, And Censorinus, that was so surnamd,— And nobly namd so, twice being censor,— Was his great ancestor.
SICINIUS  One thus descended, That hath, beside, well in his person wrought To be set high in place, we did commend To your remembrances but you have found, Scaling his present bearing with his past, That hes your fixed enemy, and revoke Your sudden approbation.
BRUTUS  Say you neer had done t— Harp on that still—but by our putting on, And presently, when you have drawn your number, Repair to the Capitol.
ALL  We will so, almost all Repent in their election.
BRUTUS  Let them go on, This mutiny were better put in hazard Than stay, past doubt, for greater. If, as his nature is, he fall in rage With their refusal, both observe and answer The vantage of his anger.
SICINIUS  To the Capitol, come We will be there before the stream o the people, And this shall seem, as partly tis, their own, Which we have goaded onward.
CORIOLANUS  Tullus Aufidius then had made new head?
LARTIUS  He had, my lord, and that it was which causd Our swifter composition.
CORIOLANUS  So then the Volsces stand but as at first, Ready, when time shall prompt them, to make road Upon s again.
COMINIUS  They are worn, lord consul, so, That we shall hardly in our ages see Their banners wave again.
CORIOLANUS  Saw you Aufidius?
LARTIUS  On safe-guard he came to me, and did curse Against the Volsces, for they had so vilely Yielded the town he is retird to Antium.
CORIOLANUS  Spoke he of me?
LARTIUS  He did, my lord.
CORIOLANUS  How? what?
LARTIUS  How often he had met you, sword to sword, That of all things upon the earth he hated Your person most, that he would pawn his fortunes To hopeless restitution, so he might Be calld your vanquisher.
CORIOLANUS  At Antium lives he?
LARTIUS  At Antium.
SICINIUS  Pass no further.
CORIOLANUS  Ha what is that?
BRUTUS  It will be dangerous to go on no further.
CORIOLANUS  What makes this change?
MENENIUS  The matter?
COMINIUS  Hath he not passd the noble and the common?
BRUTUS  Cominius, no.
CORIOLANUS  Have I had childrens voices?
SENATOR1  Tribunes, give way, he shall to the market-place.
BRUTUS  The people are incensd against him.
SICINIUS  Stop, Or all will fall in broil.
CORIOLANUS  Are these your herd? Must these have voices, that can yield them now, And straight disclaim their tongues? What are your offices? You being their mouths, why rule you not their teeth? Have you not set them on?
MENENIUS  Be calm, be calm.
CORIOLANUS  It is a purposd thing, and grows by plot, To curb the will of the nobility Suffert, and live with such as cannot rule Nor ever will be ruld.
BRUTUS  Callt not a plot The people cry you mockd them, and of late, When corn was given them gratis, you repind, Scandalld the suppliants for the people, calld them Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness.
CORIOLANUS  Why, this was known before.
BRUTUS  Not to them all.
CORIOLANUS  Have you informd them sithence?
BRUTUS  How I inform them
CORIOLANUS  You are like to do such business.
BRUTUS  Not unlike, Each way, to better yours.
CORIOLANUS  Why then should I be consul? By yond clouds, Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me Your fellow tribune.
SICINIUS  You show too much of that For which the people stir, if you will pass To where you are bound, you must inquire your way, Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit, Or never be so noble as a consul, Nor yoke with him for tribune.
MENENIUS  Lets be calm.
COMINIUS  The people are abusd, set on. This paltering Becomes not Rome, nor has Coriolanus Deservd this so dishonourd rub, laid falsely I the plain way of his merit.
CORIOLANUS  Tell me of corn This was my speech, and I will speakt again,—
MENENIUS  Not now, not now.
SENATOR1  Not in this heat, sir, now.
CORIOLANUS  Now, as I live, I will. My nobler friends, I crave their pardons For the mutable, rank-scented many, let them Regard me as I do not flatter, and Therein behold themselves I say again, In soothing them we nourish gainst our senate The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition, Which we ourselves have ploughd for, sowd and scatterd, By mingling them with us, the honourd number, Who lackd not virtue, no, nor power, but that Which they have given to beggars.
MENENIUS  Well, no more.
SENATOR1  No more words, we beseech you.
CORIOLANUS  How no more As for my country I have shed my blood, Not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs Coin words till they decay against those measles, Which we disdain should tetter us, yet sought The very way to catch them.
BRUTUS  You speak o the people, As if you were a god to punish, not A man of their infirmity.
SICINIUS  Twere well We let the people knowt.
MENENIUS  What, what? his choler?
CORIOLANUS  Choler Were I as patient as the midnight sleep, By Jove, twould be my mind
SICINIUS  It is a mind That shall remain a poison where it is, Not poison any further.
CORIOLANUS  Shall remain Hear you this Triton of the minnows? mark you His absolute shall?
COMINIUS  Twas from the canon.
CORIOLANUS  Shall O good but most unwise patricians why, You grave but reckless senators, have you thus Given Hydra here to choose an officer, That with his peremptory shall, being but The horn and noise o the monsters, wants not spirit To say hell turn your current in a ditch, And make your channel his? If he have power, Then vail your ignorance, if none, awake Your dangerous lenity. If you are learned, Be not as common fools, if you are not, Let them have cushions by you. You are plebeians If they be senators, and they are no less, When, both your voices blended, the greatst taste Most palates theirs. They choose their magistrate, And such a one as he, who puts his shall, His popular shall, against a graver bench Than ever frownd in Greece. By Jove himself It makes the consuls base, and my soul aches To know, when two authorities are up, Neither supreme, how soon confusion May enter twixt the gap of both and take The one by the other.
COMINIUS  Well, on to the market-place.
CORIOLANUS  Whoever gave that counsel, to give forth The corn o the store-house gratis, as twas usd Sometime in Greece,—
MENENIUS  Well, well, no more of that.
CORIOLANUS  Though there the people had more absolute power, I say, they nourishd disobedience, fed The ruin of the state.
BRUTUS  Why, shall the people give One that speaks thus their voice?
CORIOLANUS  Ill give my reasons, More worthier than their voices. They know the corn Was not our recompense, resting well assurd They neer did service for t. Being pressd to the war, Even when the navel of the state was touchd, They would not thread the gates this kind of service Did not deserve corn gratis. Being i the war, Their mutinies and revolts, wherein they showd Most valour, spoke not for them. The accusation Which they have often made against the senate, All cause unborn, could never be the motive Of our so frank donation. Well, what then? How shall this bisson multitude digest The senates courtesy? Let deeds express Whats like to be their words We did request it, We are the greater poll, and in true fear They gave us our demands. Thus we debase The nature of our seats, and make the rabble Call our cares, fears, which will in time break ope The locks o the senate, and bring in the crows To peck the eagles.
MENENIUS  Come, enough.
BRUTUS  Enough, with over-measure.
CORIOLANUS  No, take more What may be sworn by, both divine and human, Seal what I end withal This double worship, Where one part does disdain with cause, the other Insult without all reason, where gentry, title, wisdom, Cannot conclude, but by the yea and no Of general ignorance,—it must omit Real necessities, and give way the while To unstable slightness purpose so barrd, it follows Nothing is done to purpose. Therefore, beseech you,— You that will be less fearful than discreet, That love the fundamental part of state More than you doubt the change on t, that prefer A noble life before a long, and wish To jump a body with a dangerous physic Thats sure of death without it, at once pluck out The multitudinous tongue, let them not lick The sweet which is their poison. Your dishonour Mangles true judgment, and bereaves the state Of that integrity which should become it, Not having the power to do the good it would, For the ill which doth control t.
BRUTUS  He has said enough.
SICINIUS  He has spoken like a traitor, and shall answer As traitors do.
CORIOLANUS  Thou wretch despite oerwhelm thee What should the people do with these bald tribunes? On whom depending, their obedience fails To the greater bench. In a rebellion, When whats not meet, but what must be, was law, Then were they chosen in a better hour, Let what is meet be said it must be meet, And throw their power i the dust.
BRUTUS  Manifest treason
SICINIUS  This a consul? no.
BRUTUS  The ædiles, ho Let him be apprehended.
SICINIUS  Attach thee as a traitorous innovator, A foe to the public weal obey, I charge thee, And follow to thine answer.
CORIOLANUS  Hence, old goat
SENATOR  Well surety him.
COMINIUS  Aged sir, hands off.
CORIOLANUS  Hence, rotten thing or I shall shake thy bones Out of thy garments.
SICINIUS  Help, ye citizens
MENENIUS  On both sides more respect.
SICINIUS  Heres he that would take from you all your power.
BRUTUS  Seize him, ædiles
CITIZENS  Down with him—down with him—
SENATOR  Weapons—weapons—weapons—
MENENIUS  What is about to be?—I am out of breath, Confusions near, I cannot speak. You, tribunes To the people Coriolanus, patience Speak, good Sicinius.
SICINIUS  Hear me, people, peace
CITIZENS  Lets hear our tribune—Peace—Speak, speak, speak.
SICINIUS  You are at point to lose your liberties Marcius would have all from you, Marcius, Whom late you have namd for consul.
MENENIUS  Fie, fie, fie This is the way to kindle, not to quench.
SENATOR1  To unbuild the city and to lay all flat.
SICINIUS  What is the city but the people?
CITIZENS  True, The people are the city.
BRUTUS  By the consent of all, we were establishd The peoples magistrates.
CITIZENS  You so remain.
MENENIUS  And so are like to do.
COMINIUS  That is the way to lay the city flat, To bring the roof to the foundation, And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges, In heaps and piles of ruin.
SICINIUS  This deserves death.
BRUTUS  Or let us stand to our authority, Or let us lose it. We do here pronounce, Upon the part o the people, in whose power We were elected theirs, Marcius is worthy Of present death.
SICINIUS  Therefore lay hold of him, Bear him to the rock Tarpeian, and from thence Into destruction cast him.
BRUTUS  Ædiles, seize him
CITIZENS  Yield, Marcius, yield
MENENIUS  Hear me one word, Beseech you, tribunes, hear me but a word.
ÆDILES  Peace, peace
MENENIUS  Be that you seem, truly your countrys friends, And temperately proceed to what you would Thus violently redress.
BRUTUS  Sir, those cold ways, That seem like prudent helps, are very poisonous Where the disease is violent. Lay hands upon him, And bear him to the rock.
MENENIUS  Down with that sword Tribunes, withdraw awhile.
BRUTUS  Lay hands upon him.
MENENIUS  Help Marcius, help, You that be noble, help him, young and old
CITIZENS  Down with him—down with him
MENENIUS  Go, get you to your house, be gone, away All will be naught else.
SENATOR2  Get you gone.
CORIOLANUS  Stand fast, We have as many friends as enemies.
MENENIUS  Shall it be put to that?
SENATOR1  The gods forbid I prithee, noble friend, home to thy house, Leave us to cure this cause.
MENENIUS  For tis a sore upon us, You cannot tent yourself be gone, beseech you.
COMINIUS  Come, sir, along with us.
CORIOLANUS  I would they were barbarians,—as they are, Though in Rome litterd,—not Romans,—as they are not, Though calvd i the porch o the Capitol,—
MENENIUS  Be gone, Put not your worthy rage into your tongue, One time will owe another.
CORIOLANUS  On fair ground I could beat forty of them.
MENENIUS  I could myself Take up a brace o the best of them, yea, the two tribunes.
COMINIUS  But now tis odds beyond arithmetic, And manhood is calld foolery when it stands Against a falling fabric. Will you hence, Before the tag return? whose rage doth rend Like interrupted waters and oerbear What they are usd to bear.
MENENIUS  Pray you, be gone. Ill try whether my old wit be in request With those that have but little this must be patchd With cloth of any colour.
COMINIUS  Nay, come away.
PATRICIAN1  This man has marrd his fortune.
PATRICIAN2  I would they were a-bed
MENENIUS  I would they were in Tiber What the vengeance Could he not speak em fair?
SICINIUS  Where is this viper That would depopulate the city and Be every man himself?
MENENIUS  You worthy tribunes,—
SICINIUS  He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock With rigorous hands he hath resisted law, And therefore law shall scorn him further trial Than the severity of the public power, Which he so sets at nought.
CITIZEN1  He shall well know The noble tribunes are the peoples mouths, And we their hands.
CITIZENS  He shall, sure ont.
MENENIUS  Sir, sir,—
SICINIUS  Peace
MENENIUS  Do not cry havoc, where you should but hunt With modest warrant.
SICINIUS  Sir, how comes t that you Have holp to make this rescue?
MENENIUS  Hear me speak As I do know the consuls worthiness, So can I name his faults.
SICINIUS  Consul what consul?
MENENIUS  The Consul Coriolanus.
BRUTUS  He consul
CITIZENS  No, no, no, no, no.
MENENIUS  If, by the tribunes leave, and yours, good people, I may be heard, I would crave a word or two, The which shall turn you to no further harm Than so much loss of time.
SICINIUS  Speak briefly then, For we are peremptory to dispatch This viperous traitor. To eject him hence Were but one danger, and to keep him here Our certain death, therefore it is decreed He dies to-night.
MENENIUS  Now the good gods forbid That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude Towards her deserved children is enrolld In Joves own book, like an unnatural dam Should now eat up her own
SICINIUS  Hes a disease that must be cut away.
MENENIUS  O hes a limb that has but a disease, Mortal to cut it off, to cure it easy. What has he done to Rome thats worthy death? Killing our enemies, the blood he hath lost,— Which, I dare vouch, is more than that he hath By many an ounce,—he droppd it for his country, And what is left, to lose it by his country, Were to us all, that dot and suffer it, A brand to th end o the world.
SICINIUS  This is clean kam.
BRUTUS  Merely awry when he did love his country It honourd him.
MENENIUS  The service of the foot Being once gangrend, is not then respected For what before it was.
BRUTUS  Well hear no more. Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence, Lest his infection, being of catching nature, Spread further.
MENENIUS  One word more, one word. This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find The harm of unscannd swiftness, will, too late, Tie leaden pounds tos heels. Proceed by process, Lest parties—as he is belovd—break out, And sack great Rome with Romans.
BRUTUS  If twere so,—
SICINIUS  What do ye talk? Have we not had a taste of his obedience? Our ædiles smote? ourselves resisted? Come
MENENIUS  Consider this he has been bred i the wars Since he could draw a sword, and is ill schoold In bolted language, meal and bran together He throws without distinction. Give me leave, Ill go to him, and undertake to bring him Where he shall answer by a lawful form,— In peace,—to his utmost peril.
SENATOR1  Noble tribunes, It is the humane way the other course Will prove too bloody, and the end of it Unknown to the beginning.
SICINIUS  Noble Menenius, Be you then as the peoples officer. Masters, lay down your weapons.
BRUTUS  Go not home.
SICINIUS  Meet on the market-place. Well attend you there Where, if you bring not Marcius, well proceed In our first way.
SENATOR1  Pray you, lets to him.
CORIOLANUS  Let them pull all about mine ears, present me Death on the wheel, or at wild horses heels, Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock, That the precipitation might down stretch Below the beam of sight, yet will I still Be thus to them.
PATRICIAN1  You do the nobler.
VOLUMNIA  O sir, sir, sir, I would have had you put your power well on Before you had worn it out.
CORIOLANUS  Let go.
VOLUMNIA  You might have been enough the man you are With striving less to be so lesser had been The thwarting of your dispositions if You had not showd them how you were disposd, Ere they lackd power to cross you.
CORIOLANUS  Let them hang.
VOLUMNIA  Ay, and burn too.
MENENIUS  Come, come, you have been too rough, something too rough, You must return and mend it.
SENATOR1  Theres no remedy, Unless, by not so doing, our good city Cleave in the midst, and perish.
VOLUMNIA  Pray be counselld. I have a heart of mettle apt as yours, But yet a brain that leads my use of anger To better vantage.
MENENIUS  Well said, noble woman Before he should thus stoop to the herd, but that The violent fit o the time craves it as physic For the whole state, I would put mine armour on, Which I can scarcely bear.
CORIOLANUS  What must I do?
MENENIUS  Return to the tribunes.
CORIOLANUS  Well, what then? what then?
MENENIUS  Repent what you have spoke.
CORIOLANUS  For them I cannot do it to the gods, Must I then dot to them?
VOLUMNIA  You are too absolute, Though therein you can never be too noble, But when extremities speak. I have heard you say, Honour and policy, like unseverd friends, I the war do grow together grant that, and tell me, In peace what each of them by th other lose, That they combine not there.
CORIOLANUS  Tush, tush
MENENIUS  A good demand.
VOLUMNIA  If it be honour in your wars to seem The same you are not,—which, for your best ends, You adopt your policy,—how is it less or worse, That it shall hold companionship in peace With honour, as in war, since that to both It stands in like request?
CORIOLANUS  Why force you this?
VOLUMNIA  Because that now it lies you on to speak To the people, not by your own instruction, Nor by the matter which your heart prompts you, But with such words that are but rooted in Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables Of no allowance to your bosoms truth. Now, this no more dishonours you at all Than to take in a town with gentle words, Which else would put you to your fortune and The hazard of much blood. I would dissemble with my nature where My fortunes and my friends at stake requird I should do so in honour I am in this, Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles, And you will rather show our general louts How you can frown than spend a fawn upon em, For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard Of what that want might ruin.
MENENIUS  Noble lady Come, go with us, speak fair, you may salve so, Not what is dangerous present, but the loss Of what is past.
VOLUMNIA  I prithee now, my son, Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand, And thus far having stretchd it,—here be with them, Thy knee bussing the stones,—for in such business Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant More learned than the ears,—waving thy head, Which often, thus, correcting thy stout heart, Now humble as the ripest mulberry That will not hold the handling or say to them, Thou art their soldier, and being bred in broils Hast not the soft way which, thou dost confess, Were fit for thee to use as they to claim, In asking their good loves, but thou wilt frame Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far As thou hast power and person.
MENENIUS  This but done, Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were yours, For they have pardons, being askd, as free As words to little purpose.
VOLUMNIA  Prithee now, Go, and be ruld, although I know thou hadst rather Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf Than flatter him in a bower. Here is Cominius.
COMINIUS  I have been i the market-place, and, sir, tis fit You make strong party, or defend yourself By calmness or by absence alls in anger.
MENENIUS  Only fair speech.
COMINIUS  I think twill serve if he Can thereto frame his spirit.
VOLUMNIA  He must, and will. Prithee now, say you will, and go about it.
CORIOLANUS  Must I go show them my unbarbed sconce? Must I with my base tongue give to my noble heart A lie that it must bear? Well, I will dot Yet, were there but this single plot to lose, This mould of Marcius, they to dust should grind it, And throw t against the wind. To the market-place You have put me now to such a part which never I shall discharge to the life.
COMINIUS  Come, come, well prompt you.
VOLUMNIA  I prithee now, sweet son, as thou hast said My praises made thee first a soldier, so, To have my praise for this, perform a part Thou hast not done before.
CORIOLANUS  Well, I must do t Away, my disposition, and possess me Some harlots spirit My throat of war be turnd, Which quired with my drum, into a pipe Small as a eunuch, or the virgin voice That babies lulls asleep The smiles of knaves Tent in my cheeks, and school-boys tears take up The glasses of my sight A beggars tongue Make motion through my lips, and my armd knees, Who bowd but in my stirrup, bend like his That hath receivd an alms I will not do t, Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth, And by my bodys action teach my mind A most inherent baseness.
VOLUMNIA  At thy choice then To beg of thee it is my more dishonour Than thou of them. Come all to ruin, let Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear Thy dangerous stoutness, for I mock at death With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list, Thy valiantness was mine, thou suckdst it from me, But owe thy pride thyself.
CORIOLANUS  Pray, be content Mother, I am going to the market-place, Chide me no more. Ill mountebank their loves, Cog their hearts from them, and come home belovd Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going Commend me to my wife. Ill return consul, Or never trust to what my tongue can do I the way of flattery further.
VOLUMNIA  Do your will.
COMINIUS  Away the tribunes do attend you arm yourself To answer mildly, for they are prepard With accusations, as I hear, more strong Than are upon you yet.
MENENIUS  The word is mildly.
CORIOLANUS  Pray you, let us go Let them accuse me by invention, I Will answer in mine honour.
MENENIUS  Ay, but mildly.
CORIOLANUS  Well, mildly be it then. Mildly
BRUTUS  In this point charge him home, that he affects Tyrannical power if he evade us there, Enforce him with his envy to the people, And that the spoil got on the Antiates Was neer distributed.—
ÆDILES  Hes coming.
BRUTUS  How accompanied?
ÆDILES  With old Menenius, and those senators That always favourd him.
SICINIUS  Have you a catalogue Of all the voices that we have procurd, Set down by the poll?
ÆDILES  I have, tis ready.
SICINIUS  Have you collected them by tribes?
ÆDILES  I have.
SICINIUS  Assemble presently the people hither, And when they hear me say, It shall be so, I the right and strength o the commons, be it either For death, for fine, or banishment, then let them, If I say, fine, cry fine,—if death, cry death, Insisting on the old prerogative And power i the truth o the cause.
ÆDILES  I shall inform them.
BRUTUS  And when such time they have begun to cry, Let them not cease, but with a din confusd Enforce the present execution Of what we chance to sentence.
ÆDILES  Very well.
SICINIUS  Make them be strong and ready for this hint, When we shall hap to give t them.
BRUTUS  Go about it. Put him to choler straight. He hath been usd Ever to conquer, and to have his worth Of contradiction being once chafd, he cannot Be reind again to temperance, then he speaks Whats in his heart, and that is there which looks With us to break his neck.
SICINIUS  Well, here he comes.
MENENIUS  Calmly, I do beseech you.
CORIOLANUS  Ay, as an ostler, that for the poorest piece Will bear the knave by the volume. The honourd gods Keep Rome in safety, and the chairs of justice Supplied with worthy men plant love among us Throng our large temples with the shows of peace, And not our streets with war
SENATOR1  Amen, amen.
MENENIUS  A noble wish.
SICINIUS  Draw near, ye people.
ÆDILES  List to your tribunes, audience, peace I say.
CORIOLANUS  First, hear me speak.
CORIOLANUS  Shall I be chargd no further than this present? Must all determine here?
SICINIUS  I do demand, If you submit you to the peoples voices, Allow their officers, and are content To suffer lawful censure for such faults As shall be provd upon you?
CORIOLANUS  I am content.
MENENIUS  Lo citizens, he says he is content The war-like service he has done, consider, think Upon the wounds his body bears, which show Like graves i the holy churchyard.
CORIOLANUS  Scratches with briers, Scars to move laughter only.
MENENIUS  Consider further, That when he speaks not like a citizen, You find him like a soldier do not take His rougher accents for malicious sounds, But, as I say, such as become a soldier, Rather than envy you.
COMINIUS  Well, well, no more.
CORIOLANUS  What is the matter, That being passd for consul with full voice I am so dishonourd that the very hour You take it off again?
SICINIUS  Answer to us.
CORIOLANUS  Say, then tis true, I ought so.
SICINIUS  We charge you, that you have contrivd to take From Rome all seasond office, and to wind Yourself into a power tyrannical, For which you are a traitor to the people.
CORIOLANUS  How Traitor
MENENIUS  Nay, temperately, your promise.
CORIOLANUS  The fires i the lowest hell fold-in the people Call me their traitor Thou injurious tribune Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, In thy hands clutchd as many millions, in Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say Thou liest unto thee with a voice as free As I do pray the gods.
SICINIUS  Mark you this, people
CITIZENS  To the rock—to the rock with him
SICINIUS  Peace We need not put new matter to his charge What you have seen him do, and heard him speak, Beating your officers, cursing yourselves, Opposing laws with strokes, and here defying Those whose great power must try him, even this, So criminal and in such capital kind, Deserves the extremest death.
BRUTUS  But since he hath Servd well for Rome,—
CORIOLANUS  What do you prate of service?
BRUTUS  I talk of that, that know it.
CORIOLANUS  You
MENENIUS  Is this the promise that you made your mother?
COMINIUS  Know, I pray you,—
CORIOLANUS  Ill know no further Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death, Vagabond exile, flaying, pent to linger But with a grain a day, I would not buy Their mercy at the price of one fair word, Nor check my courage for what they can give, To have t with saying Good morrow.
SICINIUS  For that he has,— As much as in him lies,—from time to time Envied against the people, seeking means To pluck away their power, as now at last Given hostile strokes, and that not in the presence Of dreaded justice, but on the ministers That do distribute it, in the name o the people, And in the power of us the tribunes, we, Even from this instant, banish him our city, In peril of precipitation From off the rock Tarpeian, never more To enter our Rome gates i the peoples name, I say, it shall be so.
CITIZENS  It shall be so,—It shall be so,—Let him away.— Hes banishd, and it shall be so.
COMINIUS  Hear me, my masters, and my common friends,—
SICINIUS  Hes sentencd, no more hearing.
COMINIUS  Let me speak I have been consul, and can show for Rome Her enemies marks upon me. I do love My countrys good with a respect more tender, More holy, and profound, than mine own life, My dear wifes estimate, her wombs increase, And treasure of my loins, then if I would Speak that—
SICINIUS  We know your drift speak what?
BRUTUS  Theres no more to be said, but he is banishd, As enemy to the people and his country It shall be so.
CITIZENS  It shall be so,—it shall be so.
CORIOLANUS  You common cry of curs whose breath I hate As reek o the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcases of unburied men That do corrupt my air, I banish you, And here remain with your uncertainty Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes, Fan you into despair Have the power still To banish your defenders, till at length Your ignorance,—which finds not, till it feels,— Making but reservation of yourselves,— Still your own foes,—deliver you as most Abated captives to some nation That won you without blows Despising, For you, the city, thus I turn my back There is a world elsewhere.
ÆDILES  The peoples enemy is gone, is gone
CITIZENS  Our enemy is banishd—he is gone—Hoo hoo
SICINIUS  Go, see him out at gates, and follow him, As he hath followd you, with all despite, Give him deservd vexation. Let a guard Attend us through the city.
CITIZENS  Come, come,—let us see him out at gates come The gods preserve our noble tribunes Come
CORIOLANUS  Come, leave your tears a brief farewell the beast With many heads butts me away. Nay, mother, Where is your ancient courage? you were usd, To say extremity was the trier of spirits, That common chances common men could bear, That when the sea was calm all boats alike Showd mastership in floating, fortunes blows, When most struck home, being gentle wounded, craves A noble cunning you were usd to load me With precepts that would make invincible The heart that connd them.
VIRGILIA  O heavens O heavens
CORIOLANUS  Nay, I prithee, woman,—
VOLUMNIA  Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome, And occupations perish
CORIOLANUS  What, what, what I shall be lovd when I am lackd. Nay, mother, Resume that spirit, when you were wont to say, If you had been the wife of Hercules, Six of his labours youd have done, and savd Your husband so much sweat. Cominius, Droop not, adieu. Farewell, my wife my mother Ill do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius, Thy tears are salter than a younger mans. And venomous to thine eyes. My sometime general, I have seen thee stern, and thou hast oft beheld Heart-hardening spectacles, tell these sad women Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes As tis to laugh at them. My mother, you wot well My hazards still have been your solace, and Believe t not lightly,—though I go alone Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen Makes feard and talkd of more than seen,—your son Will or exceed the common or be caught With cautelous baits and practice.
VOLUMNIA  My first son, Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius With thee awhile determine on some course, More than a wild exposture to each chance That starts i the way before thee.
CORIOLANUS  O the gods
COMINIUS  Ill follow thee a month, devise with thee Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear of us, And we of thee so, if the time thrust forth A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send Oer the vast world to seek a single man, And lose advantage, which doth ever cool I the absence of the needer.
CORIOLANUS  Fare ye well Thou hast years upon thee, and thou art too full Of the wars surfeits, to go rove with one Thats yet unbruisd bring me but out at gate. Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and My friends of noble touch, when I am forth, Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come. While I remain above the ground you shall Hear from me still, and never of me aught But what is like me formerly.
MENENIUS  Thats worthily As any ear can hear. Come, lets not weep. If I could shake off but one seven years From these old arms and legs, by the good gods, Id with thee every foot.
CORIOLANUS  Give me thy hand Come.
SICINIUS  Bid them all home, hes gone, and well no further. The nobility are vexd, whom we see have sided In his behalf.
BRUTUS  Now we have shown our power, Let us seem humbler after it is done Than when it was a-doing.
SICINIUS  Bid them home, Say their great enemy is gone, and they Stand in their ancient strength.
BRUTUS  Dismiss them home.
SICINIUS  Lets not meet her.
BRUTUS  Why?
SICINIUS  They say shes mad.
BRUTUS  They have taen note of us keep on your way.
VOLUMNIA  O youre well met. The hoarded plague o the gods Requite your love
MENENIUS  Peace, peace be not so loud.
SICINIUS  Are you mankind?
VOLUMNIA  Ay, fool, is that a shame? Note but this fool. Was not a man my father? Hadst thou foxship To banish him that struck more blows for Rome Than thou hast spoken words?
SICINIUS  O blessed heavens
VOLUMNIA  More noble blows than ever thou wise words, And for Romes good. Ill tell thee what, yet go Nay, but thou shalt stay too I would my son Were in Arabia, and thy tribe before him, His good sword in his hand.
SICINIUS  What then?
VIRGILIA  What then Hed make an end of thy posterity.
VOLUMNIA  Bastards and all. Good man, the wounds that he does bear for Rome
MENENIUS  Come, come peace
SICINIUS  I would he had continud to his country As he began, and not unknit himself The noble knot he made.
BRUTUS  I would he had.
VOLUMNIA  I would he had Twas you incensd the rabble Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth As I can of those mysteries which heaven Will not have earth to know.
BRUTUS  Pray, let us go.
VOLUMNIA  Now, pray, sir, get you gone You have done a brave deed. Ere you go, hear this As far as doth the Capitol exceed The meanest house in Rome, so far my son,— This ladys husband here, this, do you see,— Whom you have banishd, does exceed you all.
BRUTUS  Well, well, well leave you.
SICINIUS  Why stay we to be baited With one that wants her wits?
VOLUMNIA  Take my prayers with you. I would the gods had nothing else to do But to confirm my curses Could I meet em But once a day, it would unclog my heart Of what lies heavy to t.
MENENIUS  You have told them home, And, by my troth, you have cause. Youll sup with me?
VOLUMNIA  Angers my meat, I sup upon myself, And so shall starve with feeding. Come, lets go. Leave this faint puling and lament as I do, In anger, Juno-like. Come, come, come.
MENENIUS  Fie, fie, fie
ROMAN  I know you well, sir, and you know me your name I think is Adrian.
VOLSCE  It is so, sir truly, I have forget you.
ROMAN  I am a Roman, and my services are, as you are, against em know you me yet?
VOLSCE  Nicanor? No.
ROMAN  The same, sir.
VOLSCE  You had more beard, when I last saw you, but your favour is well approved by your tongue. Whats the news in Rome? I have a note from the Volscian state to find you out there you have well saved me a days journey.
ROMAN  There hath been in Rome strange insurrections the people against the senators, patricians, and nobles.
VOLSCE  Hath been Is it ended then? Our state thinks not-so, they are in a most war-like preparation, and hope to come upon them in the heat of their division.
ROMAN  The main blaze of it is past, but a small thing would make it flame again. For the nobles receive so to heart the banishment of that worthy Coriolanus, that they are in a ripe aptness to take all power from the people and to pluck from them their tribunes for ever. This lies glowing, I can tell you, and is almost mature for the violent breaking out.
VOLSCE  Coriolanus banished
ROMAN  Banished, sir.
VOLSCE  You will be welcome with this intelligence, Nicanor.
ROMAN  The day serves well for them now. I have heard it said, the fittest time to corrupt a mans wife is when shes fallen out with her husband. Your noble Tullus Aufidius will appear well in these wars, his great opposer, Coriolanus, being now in no request of his country.
VOLSCE  He cannot choose. I am most fortunate, thus accidentally to encounter you you have ended my business, and I will merrily accompany you home.
ROMAN  I shall, between this and supper, tell you most strange things from Rome, all tending to the good of their adversaries. Have you an army ready, say you?
VOLSCE  A most royal one the centurions and their charges distinctly billeted, already in the entertainment, and to be on foot at an hours warning.
ROMAN  I am joyful to hear of their readiness, and am the man, I think, that shall set them in present action. So, sir, heartily well met, and most glad of your company.
VOLSCE  You take my part from me, sir, I have the most cause to be glad of yours.
ROMAN  Well, let us go together.
CORIOLANUS  A goodly city is this Antium. City, Tis I that made thy widows many an heir Of these fair edifices fore my wars Have I heard groan and drop then, know me not, Lest that thy wives with spits and boys with stones In puny battle slay me.
CITIZEN  And you.
CORIOLANUS  Direct me, if it be your will, Where great Aufidius lies. Is he in Antium?
CITIZEN  He is, and feasts the nobles of the state At his house this night.
CORIOLANUS  Which is his house, beseech you?
CITIZEN  This, here before you.
CORIOLANUS  Thank you, sir. Farewell. O world thy slippery turns. Friends now fast sworn, Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart, Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal, and exercise, Are still together, who twin, as twere, in love Unseparable, shall within this hour, On a dissension of a doit, break out To bitterest enmity so, fellest foes, Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep To take the one the other, by some chance, Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends And interjoin their issues. So with me My birth-place hate I, and my loves upon This enemy town. Ill enter if he slay me, He does fair justice, if he give me way, Ill do his country service.
SERVANT1  Wine, wine, wine What service is here I think our fellows are asleep.
SERVANT2  Wheres Cotus? my master calls for him. Cotus
CORIOLANUS  A goodly house the feast smells well, but I Appear not like a guest.
SERVANT1  What would you have, friend? Whence are you? Heres no place for you pray, go to the door.
CORIOLANUS  I have deservd no better entertainment, In being Coriolanus.
SERVANT2  Whence are you, sir? Has the porter his eyes in his head, that he gives entrance to such companions? Pray, get you out.
CORIOLANUS  Away
SERVANT2  Away Get you away.
CORIOLANUS  Now, thou art troublesome.
SERVANT2  Are you so brave? Ill have you talked with anon.
SERVANT3  What fellows this?
SERVANT1  A strange one as ever I looked on I cannot get him out o the house prithee, call my master to him.
SERVANT3  What have you to do here, fellow? Pray you, avoid the house.
CORIOLANUS  Let me but stand, I will not hurt your hearth.
SERVANT3  What are you?
CORIOLANUS  A gentleman.
SERVANT3  A marvellous poor one.
CORIOLANUS  True, so I am.
SERVANT3  Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some other station, heres no place for you, pray you, avoid come.
CORIOLANUS  Follow your function, go, and batten on cold bits.
SERVANT3  What, you will not? Prithee, tell my master what a strange guest he has here.
SERVANT2  And I shall.
SERVANT3  Where dwellst thou?
CORIOLANUS  Under the canopy.
SERVANT3  Under the canopy
CORIOLANUS  Ay.
SERVANT3  Wheres that?
CORIOLANUS  I the city of kites and crows.
SERVANT3  I the city of kites and crows What an ass it is Then thou dwellst with daws too?
CORIOLANUS  No, I serve not thy master.
SERVANT3  How sir Do you meddle with my master?
AUFIDIUS  Where is this fellow?
SERVANT2  Here, sir Id have beaten him like a dog, but for disturbing the lords within.
AUFIDIUS  Whence comst thou? what wouldst thou? Thy name? Why speakst not? Speak, man whats thy name?
Unmuffling.  Not yet thou knowst me, and, seeing me, dost not Think me for the man I am, necessity Commands me name myself.
AUFIDIUS  What is thy name?
CORIOLANUS  A name unmusical to the Volscians ears, And harsh in sound to thine.
AUFIDIUS  Say, whats thy name? Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face Bears a command in t, though thy tackles torn, Thou showst a noble vessel. Whats thy name?
CORIOLANUS  Prepare thy brow to frown. Knowst thou me yet?
AUFIDIUS  I know thee not. Thy name?
CORIOLANUS  My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done To thee particularly, and to all the Volsces, Great hurt and mischief, thereto witness may My surname, Coriolanus the painful service, The extreme dangers, and the drops of blood Shed for my thankless country, are requited But with that surname, a good memory, And witness of the malice and displeasure Which thou shouldst bear me only that name remains, The cruelty and envy of the people, Permitted by our dastard nobles, who Have all forsook me, hath devourd the rest, And sufferd me by the voice of slaves to be Whoopd out of Rome. Now this extremity Hath brought me to thy hearth, not out of hope, Mistake me not, to save my life, for if I had feard death, of all the men i the world I would have voided thee, but in mere spite, To be full quit of those my banishers, Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast A heart of wreak in thee, that will revenge Thine own particular wrongs and stop those maims Of shame seen through thy country, speed thee straight, And make my misery serve thy turn so use it, That my revengeful services may prove As benefits to thee, for I will fight Against my cankerd country with the spleen Of all the under fiends. But if so be Thou darst not this, and that to prove more fortunes Thou art tird, then, in a word, I also am Longer to live most weary, and present My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice, Which not to cut would show thee but a fool, Since I have ever followd thee with hate, Drawn tuns of blood out of thy countrys breast, And cannot live but to thy shame, unless It be to do thee service.
AUFIDIUS  O Marcius, Marcius Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter Should from yond cloud speak divine things, And say, Tis true, Id not believe them more Than thee, all noble Marcius. Let me twine Mine arms about that body, where against My grained ash a hundred times hath broke, And scarrd the moon with splinters here I clip The anvil of my sword, and do contest As hotly and as nobly with thy love As ever in ambitious strength I did Contend against thy valour. Know thou first, I lovd the maid I married, never man Sighd truer breath, but that I see thee here, Thou noble thing more dances my rapt heart Than when I first my wedded mistress saw Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars I tell thee, We have a power on foot, and I had purpose Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn, Or lose mine arm for t. Thou hast beat me out Twelve several times, and I have nightly since Dreamt of encounters twixt thyself and me, We have been down together in my sleep, Unbuckling helms, fisting each others throat, And wakd half dead with nothing. Worthy Marcius, Had we no quarrel else to Rome, but that Thou art thence banishd, we would muster all From twelve to seventy, and, pouring war Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome, Like a bold flood oer-bear. O come, go in, And take our friendly senators by the hands, Who now are here, taking their leaves of me, Who am prepard against your territories, Though not for Rome itself.
CORIOLANUS  You bless me, gods
AUFIDIUS  Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou wilt have The leading of thine own revenges, take The one half of my commission, and set down, As best thou art experiencd, since thou knowst Thy countrys strength and weakness, thine own ways, Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, Or rudely visit them in parts remote, To fright them, ere destroy. But come in Let me commend thee first to those that shall Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes And more a friend than eer an enemy, Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand most welcome
SERVANT2  By my hand, I had thought to have strucken him with a cudgel, and yet my mind gave me his clothes made a false report of him.
SERVANT1  What an arm he has He turned me about with his finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top.
SERVANT2  Nay, I knew by his face that there was something in him he had, sir, a kind of face, methought,—I cannot tell how to term it.
SERVANT1  He had so, looking as it were,— would I were hanged but I thought there was more in him than I could think.
SERVANT2  So did I, Ill be sworn he is simply the rarest man i the world.
SERVANT1  I think he is, but a greater soldier than he you wot on.
SERVANT2  Who? my master?
SERVANT1  Nay, its no matter for that.
SERVANT2  Worth six on him.
SERVANT1  Nay, not so neither, but I take him to be the greater soldier.
SERVANT2  Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that for the defence of a town our general is excellent.
SERVANT1  Ay, and for an assault too.
SERVANT3  O slaves I can tell you news, news, you rascals.
SERVANT1  What, what, what? lets partake.
SERVANT2  What, what, what? lets partake.
SERVANT3  I would not be a Roman, of all nations, I had as lief be a condemned man.
SERVANT1  Wherefore? wherefore?
SERVANT2  Wherefore? wherefore?
SERVANT3  Why, heres he that was wont to thwack our general, Caius Marcius.
SERVANT1  Why do you say thwack our general?
SERVANT3  I do not say, thwack our general, but he was always good enough for him.
SERVANT2  Come, we are fellows and friends he was ever too hard for him, I have heard him say so himself.
SERVANT1  He was too hard for him,—directly to say the truth on t before Corioli he scotched him and notched him like a carbonado.
SERVANT2  An he had been cannibally given, he might have broiled and eaten him too.
SERVANT1  But, more of thy news.
SERVANT3  Why, he is so made on here within, as if he were son and heir to Mars, set at upper end o the table, no question asked him by any of the senators, but they stand bald before him. Our general himself makes a mistress of him, sanctifies himself with s hand, and turns up the white o the eye to his discourse. But the bottom of the news is, our general is out i the middle, and but one half of what he was yesterday, for the other has half, by the entreaty and grant of the whole table. Hell go, he says, and sowle the porter of Rome gates by the ears he will mow down all before him, and leave his passage polled.
SERVANT2  And hes as like to do t as any man I can imagine.
SERVANT3  Do t he will do t for—look you, sir—he has as many friends as enemies, which friends, sir—as it were—durst not—look you, sir—show themselves—as we term it—his friends, whilst hes in directitude.
SERVANT1  Directitude whats that?
SERVANT2  But when they shall see, sir, his crest up again, and the man in blood, they will out of their burrows, like comes after rain, and revel all with him.
SERVANT1  But when goes this forward?
SERVANT3  To-morrow, to-day, presently. You shall have the drum struck up this afternoon, tis, as it were, a parcel of their feast, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips.
SERVANT2  Why, then we shall have a stirring world again. This peace is nothing but to rust iron, increase tailors, and breed ballad-makers.
SERVANT1  Let me have war, say I, it exceeds peace as far as day does night, its spritely, waking, audible, and full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy, mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible, a getter of more bastard children than wars a destroyer of men.
SERVANT2  Tis so and as war, in some sort, may be said to be a ravisher, so it cannot be denied but peace is a great maker of cuckolds.
SERVANT1  Ay, and it makes men hate one another.
SERVANT3  Reason because they then less need one another. The wars for my money. I hope to see Romans as cheap as Volscians. They are rising, they are rising.
ALL  In, in, in, in
SICINIUS  We hear not of him, neither need we fear him, His remedies are tame i the present peace And quietness o the people, which before Were in wild hurry. Here do we make his friends Blush that the world goes well, who rather had, Though they themselves did suffer by t, behold Dissentious numbers pestering streets, than see Our tradesmen singing in their shops and going About their functions friendly.
BRUTUS  We stood to t in good time. Is this Menenius?
SICINIUS  Tis he, tis he O he is grown most kind Of late. Hail, sir
MENENIUS  Hail to you both
SICINIUS  Your Coriolanus is not much missd But with his friends the commonwealth doth stand, And so would do, were he more angry at it.
MENENIUS  Alls well, and might have been much better, if He could have temporizd.
SICINIUS  Where is he, hear you?
MENENIUS  Nay, I hear nothing his mother and his wife Hear nothing from him.
CITIZENS  The gods preserve you both
SICINIUS  Good den, our neighbours.
BRUTUS  Good den to you all, good den to you all.
CITIZEN1  Ourselves, our wives, and children, on our knees, Are bound to pray for you both.
SICINIUS  Live, and thrive
BRUTUS  Farewell, kind neighbours we wishd Coriolanus Had lovd you as we did.
CITIZENS  Now the gods keep you
SICINIUS  Farewell, farewell.
BRUTUS  Farewell, farewell.
SICINIUS  This is a happier and more comely time Than when these fellows ran about the streets Crying confusion.
BRUTUS  Caius Marcius was A worthy officer i the war, but insolent, Oercome with pride, ambitious past all thinking, Self-loving,—
SICINIUS  And affecting one sole throne. Without assistance.
MENENIUS  I think not so.
SICINIUS  We should by this, to all our lamentation, If he had gone forth consul, found it so.
BRUTUS  The gods have well prevented it, and Rome Sits safe and still without him.
ÆDILES  Worthy tribunes, There is a slave, whom we have put in prison, Reports, the Volsces with two several powers Are enterd in the Roman territories, And with the deepest malice of the war Destroy what lies before them.
MENENIUS  Tis Aufidius, Who, hearing of our Marcius banishment, Thrusts forth his horns again into the world, Which were inshelld when Marcius stood for Rome, And durst not once peep out.
SICINIUS  Come, what talk you of Marcius?
BRUTUS  Go see this rumourer whippd. It cannot be The Volsces dare break with us.
MENENIUS  Cannot be We have record that very well it can, And three examples of the like have been Within my age. But reason with the fellow, Before you punish him, where he heard this, Lest you shall chance to whip your information, And beat the messenger who bids beware Of what is to be dreaded.
SICINIUS  Tell not me I know this cannot be.
BRUTUS  Not possible.
MESSENGER  The nobles in great earnestness are going All to the senate-house some news is come, That turns their countenances.
SICINIUS  Tis this slave.— Go whip him fore the peoples eyes his raising, Nothing but his report.
MESSENGER  Yes, worthy sir, The slaves report is seconded, and more, More fearful, is deliverd.
SICINIUS  What more fearful?
MESSENGER  It is spoke freely out of many mouths— How probable I do not know—that Marcius, Joind with Aufidius, leads a power gainst Rome, And vows revenge as spacious as between The youngst and oldest thing.
SICINIUS  This is most likely.
BRUTUS  Raisd only, that the weaker sort may wish Good Marcius home again.
SICINIUS  The very trick on t.
MENENIUS  This is unlikely He and Aufidius can no more atone, Than violentest contrariety.
MESSENGER2  You are sent for to the senate A fearful army, led by Caius Marcius, Associated with Aufidius, rages Upon our territories, and have already Oerborne their way, consumd with fire, and took What lay before them.
COMINIUS  O you have made good work
MENENIUS  What news? what news?
COMINIUS  You have holp to ravish your own daughters, and To melt the city leads upon your pates. To see your wives dishonourd to your noses,—
MENENIUS  Whats the news? whats the news?
COMINIUS  Your temples burned in their cement, and Your franchises, whereon you stood, confind Into an augers bore.
MENENIUS  Pray now, your news?— You have made fair work, I fear me. Pray, your news? If Marcius should be joind with Volscians,—
COMINIUS  If He is their god he leads them like a thing Made by some other deity than Nature, That shapes man better, and they follow him, Against us brats, with no less confidence Than boys pursuing summer butterflies, Or butchers killing flies.
MENENIUS  You have made good work, You, and your apron-men, you that stood so much Upon the voice of occupation and The breath of garlic-eaters
COMINIUS  He will shake Your Rome about your ears.
MENENIUS  As Hercules Did shake down mellow fruit. You have made fair work
BRUTUS  But is this true, sir?
COMINIUS  Ay, and youll look pale Before you find it other. All the regions Do smilingly revolt, and who resist Are mockd for valiant ignorance, And perish constant fools. Who ist can blame him? Your enemies, and his, find something in him.
MENENIUS  We are all undone unless The noble man have mercy.
COMINIUS  Who shall ask it? The tribunes cannot dot for shame, the people Deserve such pity of him as the wolf Does of the shepherds for his best friends, if they Should say, Be good to Rome, they chargd him even As those should do that had deservd his hate, And therein showd like enemies.
MENENIUS  Tis true If he were putting to my house the brand That should consume it, I have not the face To say, Beseech you, cease.—You have made fair hands, You and your crafts you have crafted fair
COMINIUS  You have brought A trembling upon Rome, such as was never So incapable of help.
SICINIUS  Say not we brought it.
BRUTUS  Say not we brought it.
MENENIUS  How Was it we? We lovd him, but, like beasts And cowardly nobles, gave way unto your clusters, Who did hoot him out o the city.
COMINIUS  But I fear Theyll roar him in again. Tullus Aufidius, The second name of men, obeys his points As if he were his officer desperation Is all the policy, strength, and defence, That Rome can make against them.
MENENIUS  Here come the clusters. And is Aufidius with him? You are they That made the air unwholesome, when you cast Your stinking greasy caps in hooting at Coriolanus exile. Now hes coming, And not a hair upon a soldiers head Which will not prove a whip as many coxcombs As you threw caps up will he tumble down, And pay you for your voices. Tis no matter, If he could burn us all into one coal, We have deservd it.
CITIZENS  Faith, we hear fearful news.
CITIZEN1  For mine own part, When I said banish him, I said twas pity.
CITIZEN2  And so did I.
CITIZEN3  And so did I, and, to say the truth, so did very many of us. That we did we did for the best, and though we willingly consented to his banishment, yet it was against our will.
COMINIUS  Youre goodly things, you voices
MENENIUS  You have made Good work, you and your cry Shalls to the Capitol?
COMINIUS  O ay, what else?
SICINIUS  Go, masters, get you home, be not dismayd These are a side that would be glad to have This true which they so seem to fear. Go home, And show no sign of fear.
CITIZEN1  The gods be good to us Come, masters, lets home. I ever said we were i the wrong when we banished him.
CITIZEN2  So did we all. But come, lets home.
BRUTUS  I do not like this news.
SICINIUS  Nor I.
BRUTUS  Lets to the Capitol. Would half my wealth Would buy this for a lie
SICINIUS  Pray let us go.
AUFIDIUS  Do they still fly to the Roman?
LIEUTENANT  I do not know what witchcrafts in him, but Your soldiers use him as the grace fore meat, Their talk at table, and their thanks at end, And you are darkend in this action, sir, Even by your own.
AUFIDIUS  I cannot help it now, Unless, by using means, I lame the foot Of our design. He bears himself more proudlier, Even to my person, than I thought he would When first I did embrace him, yet his nature In thats no changeling, and I must excuse What cannot be amended.
LIEUTENANT  Yet, I wish, sir,— I mean for your particular,—you had not Joind in commission with him, but either Had borne the action of yourself, or else To him had left it solely.
AUFIDIUS  I understand thee well, and be thou sure, When he shall come to his account, he knows not What I can urge against him. Although it seems, And so he thinks, and is no less apparent To the vulgar eye, that he bears all things fairly, And shows good husbandry for the Volscian state, Fights dragon-like, and does achieve as soon As draw his sword, yet he hath left undone That which shall break his neck or hazard mine, Wheneer we come to our account.
LIEUTENANT  Sir, I beseech you, think you hell carry Rome?
AUFIDIUS  All places yield to him ere he sits down, And the nobility of Rome are his The senators and patricians love him too The tribunes are no soldiers, and their people Will be as rash in the repeal as hasty To expel him thence. I think hell be to Rome As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it By sovereignty of nature. First he was A noble servant to them, but he could not Carry his honours even, whether twas pride, Which out of daily fortune ever taints The happy man, whether defect of judgment, To fail in the disposing of those chances Which he was lord of, or whether nature, Not to be other than one thing, not moving From the casque to the cushion, but commanding peace Even with the same austerity and garb As he controlld the war, but one of these, As he hath spices of them all, not all, For I dare so far free him, made him feard, So hated, and so banishd but he has a merit To choke it in the utterance. So our virtues Lie in the interpretation of the time, And power, unto itself most commendable, Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair To extol what it hath done. One fire drives out one fire, one nail, one nail, Rights by rights falter, strengths by strengths do fail. Come, lets away. When, Caius, Rome is thine, Thou art poorst of all, then shortly art thou mine.
MENENIUS  No, Ill not go you hear what he hath said Which was sometime his general, who lovd him In a most dear particular. He calld me father But what o that? Go, you that banishd him, A mile before his tent fall down, and knee The way into his mercy. Nay, if he coyd To hear Cominius speak, Ill keep at home.
COMINIUS  He would not seem to know me.
MENENIUS  Do you hear?
COMINIUS  Yet one time he did call me by my name. I urgd our old acquaintance, and the drops That we have bled together. Coriolanus He would not answer to, forbad all names, He was a kind of nothing, titleless, Till he had forgd himself a name o the fire Of burning Rome.
MENENIUS  Why, so you have made good work A pair of tribunes that have rackd for Rome, To make coals cheap a noble memory
COMINIUS  I minded him how royal twas to pardon When it was less expected he replied, It was a bare petition of a state To one whom they had punishd.
MENENIUS  Very well. Could he say less?
COMINIUS  I offerd to awaken his regard Fors private friends his answer to me was, He could not stay to pick them in a pile Of noisome musty chaff he said twas folly, For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt, And still to nose the offence.
MENENIUS  For one poor grain or two I am one of those, his mother, wife, his child, And this brave fellow too, we are the grains You are the musty chaff, and you are smelt Above the moon. We must be burnt for you.
SICINIUS  Nay, pray, be patient if you refuse your aid In this so-never-needed help, yet do not Upbraids with our distress. But, sure, if you Would be your countrys pleader, your good tongue, More than the instant army we can make, Might stop our countryman.
MENENIUS  No, Ill not meddle.
SICINIUS  Pray you, go to him.
MENENIUS  What should I do?
BRUTUS  Only make trial what your love can do For Rome, towards Marcius.
MENENIUS  Well, and say that Marcius Return me, as Cominius is returnd, Unheard, what then? But as a discontented friend, grief-shot With his unkindness? say t be so?
SICINIUS  Yet your good will Must have that thanks from Rome, after the measure As you intended well.
MENENIUS  Ill undertake it I think hell hear me. Yet, to bite his lip, And hum at good Cominius, much unhearts me. He was not taken well, he had not dind The veins unfilld, our blood is cold, and then We pout upon the morning, are unapt To give or to forgive, but when we have stuffd These pipes and these conveyances of our blood With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls Than in our priest-like fasts therefore, Ill watch him Till he be dieted to my request, And then Ill set upon him.
BRUTUS  You know the very road into his kindness, And cannot lose your way.
MENENIUS  Good faith, Ill prove him, Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledge Of my success.
COMINIUS  Hell never hear him.
SICINIUS  Not?
COMINIUS  I tell you he does sit in gold, his eye Red as twould burn Rome, and his injury The gaoler to his pity. I kneeld before him, Twas very faintly he said Rise, dismissd me Thus, with his speechless hand what he would do He sent in writing after me, what he would not, Bound with an oath to yield to his conditions So that all hope is vain Unless his noble mother and his wife, Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him For mercy to his country. Therefore lets hence, And with our fair entreaties haste them on.
GUARD1  Stay whence are you?
GUARD2  Stand and go back.
MENENIUS  You guard like men, tis well, but, by your leave, I am an officer of state, and come To speak with Coriolanus.
GUARD1  From whence?
MENENIUS  From Rome.
GUARD1  You may not pass, you must return our general Will no more hear from thence.
GUARD2  Youll see your Rome embracd with fire before Youll speak with Coriolanus.
MENENIUS  Good my friends, If you have heard your general talk of Rome, And of his friends there, it is lots to blanks My name hath touchd your ears it is Menenius.
GUARD1  Be it so, go back the virtue of your name Is not here passable.
MENENIUS  I tell thee, fellow, Thy general is my lover I have been The book of his good acts, whence men have read His fame unparalleld, haply amplified, For I have ever glorified my friends— Of whom hes chief—with all the size that verity Would without lapsing suffer nay, sometimes, Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground, I have tumbled past the throw, and in his praise Have almost stampd the leasing. Therefore, fellow, I must have leave to pass.
GUARD1  Faith, sir, if you had told as many lies in his behalf as you have uttered words in your own, you should not pass here, no, though it were as virtuous to lie as to live chastely. Therefore go back.
MENENIUS  Prithee, fellow, remember my name is Menenius, always factionary on the party of your general.
GUARD2  Howsoever you have been his liar—as you say you have—I am one that, telling true under him, must say you cannot pass. Therefore go back.
MENENIUS  Has he dined, canst thou tell? for I would not speak with him till after dinner.
GUARD1  You are a Roman, are you?
MENENIUS  I am as thy general is.
GUARD1  Then you should hate Rome, as he does. Can you, when you have pushed out your gates the very defender of them, and, in a violent popular ignorance, given your enemy your shield, think to front his revenges with the easy groans of old women, the virginal palms of your daughters, or with the palsied intercession of such a decayed dotant as you seem to be? Can you think to blow out the intended fire your city is ready to flame in with such weak breath as this? No, you are deceived, therefore, back to Rome, and prepare for your execution you are condemned, our general has sworn you out of reprieve and pardon.
MENENIUS  Sirrah, if thy captain know I were here, he would use me with estimation.
GUARD2  Come, my captain knows you not.
MENENIUS  I mean, thy general.
GUARD1  My general cares not for you. Back, I say go, lest I let forth your half-pint of blood, back, thats the utmost of your having back.
MENENIUS  Nay, but, fellow, fellow,—
CORIOLANUS  Whats the matter?
CORIOLANUS  Away
MENENIUS  How away
AUFIDIUS  You keep a constant temper.
GUARD1  Now, sir, is your name Menenius?
GUARD2  Tis a spell, you see, of much power. You know the way home again.
GUARD1  Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your greatness back?
GUARD2  What cause, do you think, I have to swound?
MENENIUS  I neither care for the world, nor your general for such things as you, I can scarce think theres any, yere so slight. He that hath a will to die by himself fears it not from another. Let your general do his worst. For you, be that you are, long, and your misery increase with your age I say to you, as I was said to, Away
GUARD1  A noble fellow, I warrant him.
GUARD2  The worthy fellow is our general he is the rock, the oak not to be wind-shaken.
CORIOLANUS  We will before the walls of Rome to-morrow Set down our host. My partner in this action, You must report to the Volscian lords, how plainly I have borne this business.
AUFIDIUS  Only their ends You have respected, stoppd your ears against The general suit of Rome, never admitted A private whisper, no, not with such friends That thought them sure of you.
VIRGILIA  My lord and husband
CORIOLANUS  These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome.
VIRGILIA  The sorrow that delivers us thus changd Makes you think so.
Kneels.  Of thy deep duty more impression show Than that of common sons.
VOLUMNIA  O stand up blessd, Whilst, with no softer cushion than the flint, I kneel before thee, and unproperly Show duty, as mistaken all this while Between the child and parent.
CORIOLANUS  What is this? Your knees to me to your corrected son Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach Fillip the stars, then let the mutinous winds Strike the proud cedars gainst the fiery sun, Murdring impossibility, to make What cannot be, slight work.
VOLUMNIA  Thou art my warrior, I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady?
CORIOLANUS  The noble sister of Publicola, The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle Thats curdied by the frost from purest snow, And hangs on Dians temple dear Valeria
CORIOLANUS  The god of soldiers, With the consent of supreme Jove, inform Thy thoughts with nobleness, that thou mayst prove To shame unvulnerable, and stick i the wars Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw, And saving those that eye thee
VOLUMNIA  Your knee, sirrah.
CORIOLANUS  Thats my brave boy
VOLUMNIA  Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself, Are suitors to you.
CORIOLANUS  I beseech you, peace Or, if youd ask, remember this before The things I have forsworn to grant may never Be held by you denials. Do not bid me Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate Again with Romes mechanics tell me not Wherein I seem unnatural desire not To allay my rages and revenges with Your colder reasons.
VOLUMNIA  O no more, no more, You have said you will not grant us any thing, For we have nothing else to ask but that Which you deny already yet we will ask, That, if you fail in our request, the blame May hang upon your hardness. Therefore, hear us.
CORIOLANUS  Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark, for well Hear nought from Rome in private. Your request?
VOLUMNIA  Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment And state of bodies would bewray what life We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself How more unfortunate than all living women Are we come hither since that thy sight, which should Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with comforts, Constrains them weep and shake with fear and sorrow, Making the mother, wife, and child to see The son, the husband, and the father tearing His countrys bowels out. And to poor we Thine enmitys most capital thou barrst us Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort That all but we enjoy, for how can we, Alas how can we for our country pray, Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory, Whereto we are bound? Alack or we must lose The country, our dear nurse, or else thy person, Our comfort in the country. We must find An evident calamity, though we had Our wish, which side should win, for either thou Must, as a foreign recreant, be led With manacles through our streets, or else Triumphantly tread on thy countrys ruin, And bear the palm for having bravely shed Thy wife and childrens blood. For myself, son, I purpose not to wait on Fortune till These wars determine if I cannot persuade thee Rather to show a noble grace to both parts Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner March to assault thy country than to tread— Trust tot, thou shalt not—on thy mothers womb, That brought thee to this world.
VIRGILIA  Ay, and mine, That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name Living to time.
BOY  A shall not tread on me Ill run away till I am bigger, but then Ill fight.
CORIOLANUS  Not of a womans tenderness to be, Requires nor child nor womans face to see. I have sat too long.
VOLUMNIA  Nay, go not from us thus. If it were so, that our request did tend To save the Romans, thereby to destroy The Volsces whom you serve, you might condemn us, As poisonous of your honour no, our suit Is, that you reconcile them while the Volsces May say, This mercy we have showd, the Romans, This we receivd, and each in either side Give the all-hail to thee, and cry, Be blessd For making up this peace Thou knowst, great son, The end of wars uncertain, but this certain, That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name Whose repetition will be doggd with curses, Whose chronicle thus writ The man was noble, But with his last attempt he wipd it out, Destroyd his country, and his name remains To the ensuing age abhorrd. Speak to me, son Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour, To imitate the graces of the gods, To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o the air, And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak? Thinkst thou it honourable for a noble man Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speak you He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, boy Perhaps thy childishness will move him more Than can our reasons. There is no man in the world More bound to s mother, yet here he lets me prate Like one i the stocks. Thou hast never in thy life Showd thy dear mother any courtesy, When she—poor hen fond of no second brood— Has cluckd thee to the wars, and safely home, Loaden with honour. Say my requests unjust, And spurn me back, but if it be not so, Thou art not honest, and the gods will plague thee, That thou restrainst from me the duty which To a mothers part belongs. He turns away Down, ladies, let us shame him with our knees. To his surname Coriolanus longs more pride Than pity to our prayers. Down an end, This is the last so we will home to Rome, And die among our neighbours. Nay, behold us. This boy, that cannot tell what he would have, But kneels and holds up hands for fellowship, Does reason our petition with more strength Than thou hast to deny t. Come, let us go This fellow had a Volscian to his mother, His wife is in Corioli, and his child Like him by chance. Yet give us our dispatch I am hushd until our city be a-fire, And then Ill speak a little.
AUFIDIUS  I was movd withal.
CORIOLANUS  I dare be sworn you were And, sir, it is no little thing to make Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir, What peace youll make, advise me for my part, Ill not to Rome, Ill back with you, and pray you, Stand to me in this cause. O mother wife
Aside.  At difference in thee out of that Ill work Myself a former fortune.
CORIOLANUS  Ay, by and by, But we will drink together, and you shall bear A better witness back than words, which we, On like conditions, would have counter-seald. Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve To have a temple built you all the swords In Italy, and her confederate arms, Could not have made this peace.
MENENIUS  See you yond coign o the Capitol, yond corner-stone?
SICINIUS  Why, what of that?
MENENIUS  If it be possible for you to displace it with your little finger, there is some hope the ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. But I say, there is no hope in t. Our throats are sentenced and stay upon execution.
SICINIUS  Ist possible that so short a time can alter the condition of a man?
MENENIUS  There is differency between a grub and a butterfly, yet your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown from man to dragon he has wings, hes more than a creeping thing.
SICINIUS  He loved his mother dearly.
MENENIUS  So did he me, and he no more remembers his mother now than an eight-year-old horse. The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes when he walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground shrinks before his treading he is able to pierce a corslet with his eye, talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He sits in his state, as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done is finished with his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but eternity and a heaven to throne in.
SICINIUS  Yes, mercy, if you report him truly.
MENENIUS  I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his mother shall bring from him there is no more mercy in him than there is milk in a male tiger, that shall our poor city find and all this is long of you.
SICINIUS  The gods be good unto us
MENENIUS  No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto us. When we banished him, we respected not them, and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us.
MESSENGER  Sir, if youd save your life, fly to your house The plebeians have got your fellow-tribune, And hale him up and down, all swearing, if The Roman ladies bring not comfort home, Theyll give him death by inches.
SICINIUS  Whats the news?
MESSENGER2  Good news, good news the ladies have prevaild, The Volscians are dislodgd, and Marcius gone. A merrier day did never yet greet Rome, No, not the expulsion of the Tarquins.
SICINIUS  Friend, Art thou certain this is true? is it most certain?
MENENIUS  This is good news I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians, A city full, of tribunes, such as you, A sea and land full. You have prayd well to-day This morning for ten thousand of your throats Id not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy
SICINIUS  First, the gods bless you for your tidings, next, Accept my thankfulness.
MESSENGER2  Sir, we have all Great cause to give great thanks.
SICINIUS  They are near the city?
MESSENGER2  Almost at point to enter.
SICINIUS  We will meet them, And help the joy.
SENATOR1  Behold our patroness, the life of Rome Call all your tribes together, praise the gods, And make triumphant fires, strew flowers before them Unshout the noise that banishd Marcius, Repeal him with the welcome of his mother, Cry, Welcome, ladies, welcome
ALL  Welcome, ladies, Welcome
AUFIDIUS  Go tell the lords o the city I am here Deliver them this paper having read it, Bid them repair to the market-place, where I, Even in theirs and in the commons ears, Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse The city ports by this hath enterd, and Intends to appear before the people, hoping To purge himself with words dispatch.
CONSPIRATOR1  How is it with our general?
AUFIDIUS  Even so As with a man by his own alms empoisond, And with his charity slain.
CONSPIRATOR2  Most noble sir, If you do hold the same intent wherein You wishd us parties, well deliver you Of your great danger.
AUFIDIUS  Sir, I cannot tell We must proceed as we do find the people.
CONSPIRATOR3  The people will remain uncertain whilst Twixt you theres difference, but the fall of either Makes the survivor heir of all.
AUFIDIUS  I know it, And my pretext to strike at him admits A good construction. I raisd him, and I pawnd Mine honour for his truth who being so heightend, He waterd his new plants with dews of flattery, Seducing so my friends, and, to this end, He bowd his nature, never known before But to be rough, unswayable, and free.
CONSPIRATOR3  Sir, his stoutness When he did stand for consul, which he lost By lack of stooping,—
AUFIDIUS  That I would have spoke of Being banishd fort, he came unto my hearth, Presented to my knife his throat I took him, Made him joint-servant with me, gave him way In all his own desires, nay, let him choose Out of my files, his projects to accomplish, My best and freshest men, servd his designments In mine own person, holp to reap the fame Which he did end all his, and took some pride To do myself this wrong till, at the last, I seemd his follower, not partner, and He wagd me with his countenance, as if I had been mercenary.
CONSPIRATOR1  So he did, my lord The army marvelld at it, and, in the last, When we had carried Rome, and that we lookd For no less spoil than glory,—
AUFIDIUS  There was it, For which my sinews shall be stretchd upon him. At a few drops of womens rheum, which are As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour Of our great action therefore shall he die, And Ill renew me in his fall. But, hark
CONSPIRATOR1  Your native town you enterd like a post, And had no welcomes home, but he returns, Splitting the air with noise.
CONSPIRATOR2  And patient fools, Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear With giving him glory.
CONSPIRATOR3  Therefore, at your vantage, Ere he express himself, or move the people With what he would say, let him feel your sword, Which we will second. When he lies along, After your way his tale pronouncd shall bury His reasons with his body.
AUFIDIUS  Say no more Here come the lords.
LORDS  You are most welcome home.
AUFIDIUS  I have not deservd it. But, worthy lords, have you with heed perusd What I have written to you?
LORDS  We have.
LORD1  And grieve to hear t. What faults he made before the last, I think Might have found easy fines, but there to end Where he was to begin, and give away The benefit of our levies, answering us With our own charge, making a treaty where There was a yielding, this admits no excuse.
AUFIDIUS  He approaches you shall hear him.
CORIOLANUS  Hail, lords I am returnd your soldier, No more infected with my countrys love Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting Under your great command. You are to know, That prosperously I have attempted and With bloody passage led your wars even to The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought home Do more than counterpoise a full third part The charges of the action. We have made peace With no less honour to the Antiates Than shame to the Romans, and we here deliver, Subscribd by the consuls and patricians, Together with the seal o the senate, what We have compounded on.
AUFIDIUS  Read it not, noble lords, But tell the traitor in the highest degree He hath abusd your powers.
CORIOLANUS  Traitor How now?
AUFIDIUS  Ay, traitor, Marcius.
CORIOLANUS  Marcius
AUFIDIUS  Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius. Dost thou think Ill grace thee with that robbery, thy stoln name Coriolanus in Corioli? You lords and heads of the state, perfidiously He has betrayd your business, and given up, For certain drops of salt, your city Rome, I say your city, to his wife and mother, Breaking his oath and resolution like A twist of rotten silk, never admitting Counsel o the war, but at his nurses tears He whind and roard away your victory, That pages blushd at him, and men of heart Lookd wondering each at other.
CORIOLANUS  Hearst thou, Mars?
AUFIDIUS  Name not the god, thou boy of tears.
CORIOLANUS  Ha
AUFIDIUS  No more.
CORIOLANUS  Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart Too great for what contains it. Boy O slave Pardon me, lords, tis the first time that ever I was forcd to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords, Must give this cur the lie and his own notion— Who wears my stripes impressd upon him, that Must bear my beating to his grave—shall join To thrust the lie unto him.
LORD1  Peace, both, and hear me speak.
CORIOLANUS  Cut me to pieces, Volsces, men and lads, Stain all your edges on me. Boy False hound If you have writ your annals true, tis there, That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I Flutterd your Volscians in Corioli Alone I did it. Boy
AUFIDIUS  Why, noble lords, Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, Fore your own eyes and ears?
CONSPIRATORS  Let him die for t.
LORD2  Peace, ho no outrage peace The man is noble and his fame folds in This orb o the earth. His last offences to us Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius, And trouble not the peace.
CORIOLANUS  O that I had him, With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe, To use my lawful sword
AUFIDIUS  Insolent villain
CONSPIRATORS  Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him
LORDS  Hold, hold, hold, hold
AUFIDIUS  My noble masters, hear me speak.
LORD1  O Tullus
LORD2  Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep.
LORD3  Tread not upon him. Masters all, be quiet. Put up your swords.
AUFIDIUS  My lords, when you shall know,—as in this rage, Provokd by him, you cannot,—the great danger Which this mans life did owe you, youll rejoice That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours To call me to your senate, Ill deliver Myself your loyal servant, or endure Your heaviest censure.
LORD1  Bear from hence his body, And mourn you for him Let him be regarded As the most noble corse that ever herald Did follow to his urn.
LORD2  His own impatience Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame. Lets make the best of it.
AUFIDIUS  My rage is gone, And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up Help, three o the chiefest soldiers, Ill be one. Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully, Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he Hath widowd and unchilded many a one, Which to this hour bewail the injury, Yet he shall have a noble memory. Assist.
BERNARDO  Whos there?
FRANCISCO  Nay, answer me, stand, and unfold yourself.
BERNARDO  Long live the king
FRANCISCO  Bernardo?
BERNARDO  He.
FRANCISCO  You come most carefully upon your hour.
BERNARDO  Tis now struck twelve, get thee to bed, Francisco.
FRANCISCO  For this relief much thanks, tis bitter cold, And I am sick at heart.
BERNARDO  Have you had quiet guard?
FRANCISCO  Not a mouse stirring.
BERNARDO  Well, good-night. If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, The rivals of my watch, bid them make hasie.
FRANCISCO  I think I hear them. Stand, ho Whos there?
HORATIO  Friends to this ground.
MARCELLUS  And liegemen to the Dane.
FRANCISCO  Give you good-night.
MARCELLUS  O farewell, honest soldier Who hath relievd you?
FRANCISCO  Bernardo has my place. Give you good-night.
MARCELLUS  Holla Bernardo
BERNARDO  Say, What is Horatio there?
HORATIO  A piece of him.
BERNARDO  Welcome, Horatio, welcome, good Marcellus.
MARCELLUS  What has this thing appeard again to-night?
BERNARDO  I have seen nothing.
MARCELLUS  Horatio says tis but our fantasy, And will not let belief take hold of him Touching this dreaded sight twice seen of us Therefore I have entreated him along With us to watch the minutes of this night, That if again this apparition come, He may approve our eyes and speak to it.
HORATIO  Tush, tush twill not appear.
BERNARDO  Sit down awhile, And let us once again assail your ears, That are so fortified against our story, What we two nights have seen.
HORATIO  Well, sit we down, And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.
BERNARDO  Last night of all, When yond same star thats westward from the pole Had made his course to illume that part of heaven Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself, The bell then beating one,—
MARCELLUS  Peace break thee off, look, where it comes again
BERNARDO  In the same figure, like the king thats dead.
MARCELLUS  Thou art a scholar, speak to it, Horatio.
BERNARDO  Looks it not like the king? mark it, Horatio.
HORATIO  Most like it harrows me with fear and wonder.
BERNARDO  It would be spoke to.
MARCELLUS  Question it, Horatio.
HORATIO  What art thou that usurpst this time of night, Together with that fair and war-like form In which the majesty of buried Denmark Did sometimes march? by heaven I charge thee, speak
MARCELLUS  It is offended.
BERNARDO  See it stalks away.
HORATIO  Stay speak, speak I charge thee, speak
MARCELLUS  Tis gone, and will not answer.
BERNARDO  How now, Horatio you tremble and look pale Is not this something more than fantasy? What think you on t?
HORATIO  Before my God, I might not this believe Without the sensible and true avouch Of mine own eyes.
MARCELLUS  Is it not like the king?
HORATIO  As thou-art to thyself Such was the very armour he had on When he the ambitious Norway combated, So frownd he once, when, in an angry parle, He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice. Tis strange.
MARCELLUS  Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour, With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.
HORATIO  In what particular thought to work I know not, But in the gross and scope of my opinion, This bodes some strange eruption to our state.
MARCELLUS  Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that knows, Why this same strict and most observant watch So nightly toils the subject of the land, And why such daily cast of brazen cannon, And foreign mart for implements of war, Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task Does not divide the Sunday from the week, What might be toward, that this sweaty haste Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day Who is t that can inform me?
HORATIO  That can I, At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king, Whose image even but now appeard to us, Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway, Thereto prickd on by a most emulate pride, Dard to the combat, in which our valiant Hamlet— For so this side of our known world esteemd him— Did slay this Fortinbras, who, by a seald compact, Well ratified by law and heraldry, Did forfeit with his life all those his lands Which he stood seizd of, to the conqueror, Against the which, a moiety competent Was gaged by our king, which had returnd To the inheritance of Fortinbras, Had he been vanquisher, as, by the same covenant, And carriage of the article designd, His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras, Of unimproved mettle hot and full, Hath in the skirts of Norway here and there Sharkd up a list of lawless resolutes, For food and diet, to some enterprise That hath a stomach in t, which is no other— As it doth well appear unto our state— But to recover of us, by strong hand And terms compulsative, those foresaid lands So by his father lost. And this, I take it, Is the main motive of our preparations, The source of this our watch and the chief head Of this post-haste and romage in the land.
BERNARDO  I think it be no other but een so, Well may it sort that this portentous figure Comes armed through our watch, so like the king That was and is the question of these wars.
MARCELLUS  Shall I strike at it with my partisan?
HORATIO  Do, if it will not stand.
BERNARDO  Tis here
HORATIO  Tis here
MARCELLUS  Tis gone We do it wrong, being so majestical, To offer it the show of violence, For it is, as the air, invulnerable, And our vain blows malicious mockery.
BERNARDO  It was about to speak when the cock crew.
HORATIO  And then it started like a guilty thing Upon a fearful summons. I have heard, The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat Awake the god of day, and at his warning, Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, The extravagant and erring spirit hies To his confine, and of the truth herein This present object made probation.
MARCELLUS  It faded on the crowing of the cock. Some say that ever gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviours birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long, And then, they say, no spirit can walk abroad, The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallowd and so gracious is the time.
HORATIO  So have I heard and do in part believe it. But, look, the morn in russet mantle clad, Walks oer the dew of yon high eastern hill, Break we our watch up, and by my advice Let us impart what we have seen to-night Unto young Hamlet, for, upon my life, This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him. Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it, As needful in our loves, fitting our duty?
MARCELLUS  Lets dot, I pray, and I this morning know Where we shall find him most conveniently.
KING  Though yet of Hamlet our dear brothers death The memory be green, and that it us befitted To bear our hearts in grief and our whole kingdom To be contracted in one brow of woe, Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature That we with wisest sorrow think on him, Together with remembrance of ourselves. Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen, The imperial jointress of this war-like state, Have we, as twere with a defeated joy, With one auspicious and one dropping eye, With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage, In equal scale weighing delight and dole, Taken to wife nor have we herein barrd Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone With this affair along for all, our thanks. Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras, Holding a weak supposal of our worth, Or thinking by our late dear brothers death Our state to be disjoint and out of frame, Colleagued with the dream of his advantage, He hath not faild to pester us with message, Importing the surrender of those lands Lost by his father, with all bands of law, To our most valiant brother. So much for him. Now for ourself and for this time of meeting. Thus much the business is we have here writ To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras, Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears Of this his nephews purpose, to suppress His further gait herein, in that the levies, The lists and full proportions, are all made Out of his subject, and we here dispatch You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand, For bearers of this greeting to old Norway, Giving to you no further personal power To business with the king more than the scope Of these delated articles allow. Farewell and let your haste commend your duty.
CORNELIUS  In that and all things will we show our duty.
VOLTIMAND  In that and all things will we show our duty.
KING  We doubt it nothing heartily farewell. And now, Laertes, whats the news with you? You told us of some suit, what ist, Laertes? You cannot speak of reason to the Dane, And lose your voice, what wouldst thou beg, Laertes, That shall not be my offer, not thy asking? The head is not more native to the heart, The hand more instrumental to the mouth, Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father. What wouldst thou have, Laertes?
LAERTES  Dread my lord, Your leave and favour to return to France, From whence though willingly I came to Denmark, To show my duty in your coronation, Yet now, I must confess, that duty done, My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.
KING  Have you your fathers leave? What says Polonius?
POLONIUS  He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave By laboursome petition, and at last Upon his will I seald my hard consent I do beseech you, give him leave to go.
KING  Take thy fair hour, Laertes, time be thine, And thy best graces spend it at thy will. But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son,—
KING  How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
HAMLET  Not so, my lord, I am too much i the sun.
QUEEN  Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. Do not for ever with thy vailed lids Seek for thy noble father in the dust Thou knowst tis common, all that live must die, Passing through nature to eternity.
HAMLET  Ay, madam, it is common.
QUEEN  If it be, Why seems it so particular with thee?
HAMLET  Seems, madam Nay, it is, I know not seems. Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of forcd breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Nor the dejected haviour of the visage, Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief, That can denote me truly, these indeed seem, For they are actions that a man might play But I have that within which passeth show, These but the trappings and the suits of woe.
KING  Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet, To give these mourning duties to your father But, you must know, your father lost a father, That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound In filial obligation for some term To do obsequious sorrow, but to persever In obstinate condolement is a course Of impious stubbornness, tis unmanly grief It shows a will most incorrect to heaven, A heart unfortified, a mind impatient, An understanding simple and unschoold For what we know must be and is as common As any the most vulgar thing to sense, Why should we in our peevish opposition Take it to heart? Fie tis a fault to heaven, A fault against the dead, a fault to nature, To reason most absurd, whose common theme Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried, From the first corse till he that died to-day, This must be so. We pray you, throw to earth This unprevailing woe, and think of us As of a father, for let the world take note, You are the most immediate to our throne, And with no less nobility of love Than that which dearest father bears his son Do I impart toward you. For your intent In going back to school in Wittenberg, It is most retrograde to our desire, And we beseech you, bend you to remain Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye, Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.
QUEEN  Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet I pray thee, stay with us, go not to Wittenberg.
HAMLET  I shall in all my best obey you, madam.
KING  Why, tis a loving and a fair reply Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come, This gentle and unforcd accord of Hamlet Sits smiling to my heart, in grace whereof, No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day, But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell, And the kings rouse the heavens shall bruit again, Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away.
HAMLET  O that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw and resolve itself into a dew, Or that the Everlasting had not fixd His canon gainst self-slaughter O God O God How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world. Fie on t O fie tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed, things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely. That it should come to this But two months dead nay, not so much, not two So excellent a king, that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr, so loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth Must I remember? why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on, and yet, within a month, Let me not think ont Frailty, thy name is woman A little month, or ere those shoes were old With which she followd my poor fathers body, Like Niobe, all tears, why she, even she,— O God a beast, that wants discourse of reason, Would have mournd longer,—married with mine uncle, My fathers brother, but no more like my father Than I to Hercules within a month, Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, She married. O most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets. It is not nor it cannot come to good, But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue
HORATIO  Hail to your lordship
HAMLET  I am glad to see you well Horatio, or I do forget myself.
HORATIO  The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.
HAMLET  Sir, my good friend, Ill change that name with you. And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio? Marcellus?
MARCELLUS  My good lord,—
HORATIO  A truant disposition, good my lord.
HAMLET  I would not hear your enemy say so, Nor shall you do mine ear that violence, To make it truster of your own report Against yourself, I know you are no truant. But what is your affair in Elsinore? Well teach you to drink deep ere you depart.
HORATIO  My lord, I came to see your fathers funeral.
HAMLET  I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student, I think it was to see my mothers wedding.
HORATIO  Indeed, my lord, it followd hard upon.
HAMLET  Thrift, thrift, Horatio the funeral bakd meats Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven Ere I had ever seen that day, Horatio My father, methinks I see my father.
HORATIO  O where, my lord?
HAMLET  In my minds eye, Horatio.
HORATIO  I saw him once, he was a goodly king.
HAMLET  He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.
HORATIO  My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.
HAMLET  Saw who?
HORATIO  My lord, the king your father.
HAMLET  The king, my father
HORATIO  Season your admiration for a while With an attent ear, till I may deliver, Upon the witness of these gentlemen, This marvel to you.
HAMLET  For Gods love, let me hear.
HORATIO  Two nights together had these gentlemen, Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch, In the dead vast and middle of the night, Been thus encounterd a figure like your father, Armed at points exactly, cap-a-pe, Appears before them, and with solemn march Goes slow and stately by them thrice he walkd By their oppressd and fear-surprised eyes, Within his truncheons length, whilst they, distilld Almost to jelly with the act of fear, Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me In dreadful secrecy impart they did, And I with them the third night kept the watch, Where, as they had deliverd, both in time, Form of the thing, each word made true and good, The apparition comes. I knew your father, These hands are not more like.
HAMLET  But where was this?
MARCELLUS  My lord, upon the platform where we watchd.
HAMLET  Did you not speak to it?
HORATIO  My lord, I did, But answer made it none, yet once methought It lifted up its head and did address Itself to motion, like as it would speak, But even then the morning cock crew loud, And at the sound it shrunk in haste away And vanishd from our sight.
HAMLET  Tis very strange.
HORATIO  As I do live, my honourd lord, tis true, And we did think it writ down in our duty To let you know of it.
HAMLET  Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me. Hold you the watch to-night?
MARCELLUS  We do, my lord.
BERNARDO  We do, my lord.
HAMLET  Armd, say you?
MARCELLUS  Armd, my lord.
BERNARDO  Armd, my lord.
HAMLET  From top to toe?
MARCELLUS  My lord, from head to foot.
BERNARDO  My lord, from head to foot.
HAMLET  Then saw you not his face?
HORATIO  O yes my lord, he wore his beaver up.
HAMLET  What lookd he frowningly?
HORATIO  A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
HAMLET  Pale or red?
HORATIO  Nay, very pale.
HAMLET  And fixd his eyes upon you?
HORATIO  Most constantly.
HAMLET  I would I had been there.
HORATIO  It would have much amazd you.
HAMLET  Very like, very like. Stayd it long?
HORATIO  While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.
MARCELLUS  Longer, longer.
BERNARDO  Longer, longer.
HORATIO  Not when I saw it.
HAMLET  His beard was grizzled, no?
HORATIO  It was, as I have seen it in his life, A sable silverd.
HAMLET  I will watch to-night, Perchance twill walk again.
HORATIO  I warrant it will.
HAMLET  If it assume my noble fathers person, Ill speak to it, though hell itself should gape And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all, If you have hitherto conceald this sight, Let it be tenable in your silence still, And whatsoever else shall hap to-night, Give it an understanding, but no tongue I will requite your loves. So, fare you well. Upon the platform, twixt eleven and twelve, Ill visit you.
ALL  Our duty to your honour.
HAMLET  Your loves, as mine to you. Farewell. My fathers spirit in arms all is not well, I doubt some foul play would the night were come Till then sit still, my soul foul deeds will rise, Though all the earth oerwhelm them, to mens eyes.
LAERTES  My necessaries are embarkd, farewell And, sister, as the winds give benefit And convoy is assistant, do not sleep, But let me hear from you.
OPHELIA  Do you doubt that?
LAERTES  For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour, Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood, A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting, The perfume and suppliance of a minute, No more.
OPHELIA  No more but so?
LAERTES  Think it no more For nature, crescent, does not grow alone In thews and bulk, but, as this temple waxes, The inward service of the mind and soul Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now, And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch The virtue of his will, but you must fear, His greatness weighd, his will is not his own, For he himself is subject to his birth, He may not, as unvalud persons do, Carve for himself, for on his choice depends The safety and the health of the whole state, And therefore must his choice be circumscribd Unto the voice and yielding of that body Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you, It fits your wisdom so far to believe it As he in his particular act and place May give his saying deed, which is no further Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal. Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain, If with too credent ear you list his songs, Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open To his unmasterd importunity. Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister, And keep you in the rear of your affection, Out of the shot and danger of desire. The chariest maid is prodigal enough If she unmask her beauty to the moon, Virtue herself scapes not calumnious strokes, The canker galls the infants of the spring Too oft before their buttons be disclosd, And in the morn and liquid dew of youth Contagious blastments are most imminent. Be wary then, best safety lies in fear Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.
OPHELIA  I shall th effect of this good lesson keep, As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother, Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven, Whiles, like a puffd and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads, And recks not his own rede.
POLONIUS  Yet here, Laertes aboard, aboard, for shame The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail, And you are stayd for. There, my blessing with thee And these few precepts in thy memory Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any unproportiond thought his act. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar, The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel, But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatchd, unfledgd comrade. Beware Of entrance to a quarrel, but, being in, Bear t that th opposed may beware of thee. Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice, Take each mans censure, but reserve thy judgment. Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not expressd in fancy, rich, not gaudy, For the apparel oft proclaims the man, And they in France of the best rank and station Are most select and generous, chief in that. Neither a borrower, nor a lender be, For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man. Farewell, my blessing season this in thee
LAERTES  Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.
POLONIUS  The time invites you, go, your servants tend.
LAERTES  Farewell, Ophelia, and remember well What I have said to you.
OPHELIA  Tis in my memory lockd, And you yourself shall keep the key of it.
LAERTES  Farewell.
POLONIUS  What is t, Ophelia, he hath said to you?
OPHELIA  So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet.
POLONIUS  Marry, well bethought Tis told me, he hath very oft of late Given private time to you, and you yourself Have of your audience been most free and bounteous. If it be so,—as so tis put on me, And that in way of caution,—I must tell you, You do not understand yourself so clearly As it behoves my daughter and your honour. What is between you? give me up the truth.
OPHELIA  He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders Of his affection to me.
POLONIUS  Affection pooh you speak like a green girl, Unsifted in such perilous circumstance. Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?
OPHELIA  I do not know, my lord, what I should think.
POLONIUS  Marry, Ill teach you think yourself a baby, That you have taen these tenders for true pay, Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly, Or,—not to crack the wind of the poor phrase, Running it thus,—youll tender me a fool.
OPHELIA  My lord, he hath importund me with love In honourable fashion.
POLONIUS  Ay, fashion you may call it go to, go to.
OPHELIA  And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, With almost all the holy vows of heaven.
POLONIUS  Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know, When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul Lends the tongue vows these blazes, daughter, Giving more light than heat, extinct in both, Even in their promise, as it is a-making, You must not take for fire. From this time Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence, Set your entreatments at a higher rate Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet, Believe so much in him, that he is young, And with a larger tether may he walk Than may be given you in few, Ophelia, Do not believe his vows, for they are brokers, Not of that dye which their investments show, But mere implorators of unholy suits, Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds, The better to beguile. This is for all I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth, Have you so slander any moments leisure, As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet. Look to t, I charge you, come your ways.
OPHELIA  I shall obey, my lord.
HAMLET  The air bites shrewdly, it is very cold.
HORATIO  It is a nipping and an eager air.
HAMLET  What hour now?
HORATIO  I think it lacks of twelve.
MARCELLUS  No, it is struck.
HAMLET  The king doth wake to-night and takes his rouse, Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels, And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his pledge.
HORATIO  Is it a custom?
HAMLET  Ay, marry, is t But to my mind,—though I am native here And to the manner born,—it is a custom More honourd in the breach than the observance. This heavy-headed revel east and west Makes us traducd and taxd of other nations, They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase Soil our addition, and indeed it takes From our achievements, though performd at height, The pith and marrow of our attribute. So, oft it chances in particular men, That for some vicious mole of nature in them, As, in their birth,—wherein they are not guilty, Since nature cannot choose his origin,— By the oergrowth of some complexion, Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason, Or by some habit that too much oer-leavens The form of plausive manners, that these men, Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, Being natures livery, or fortunes star, Their virtues else, be they as pure as grace, As infinite as man may undergo, Shall in the general censure take corruption From that particular fault the dram of eale Doth all the noble substance of a doubt, To his own scandal.
HORATIO  Look, my lord, it comes.
HAMLET  Angels and ministers of grace defend us Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damnd, Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, Be thy intents wicked or charitable, Thou comst in such a questionable shape That I will speak to thee Ill call thee Hamlet, King, father, royal Dane, O answer me Let me not burst in ignorance, but tell Why thy canonizd bones, hearsed in death, Have burst their cerements, why the sepulchre, Wherein we saw thee quietly inurnd, Hath opd his ponderous and marble jaws, To cast thee up again. What may this mean, That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel Revisitst thus the glimpses of the moon, Making night hideous, and we fools of nature So horridly to shake our disposition With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do?
HORATIO  It beckons you to go away with it, As if it some impartment did desire To you alone.
MARCELLUS  Look, with what courteous action It waves you to a more removed ground But do not go with it.
HORATIO  No, by no means.
HAMLET  It will not speak, then, will I follow it.
HORATIO  Do not, my lord.
HAMLET  Why, what should be the fear? I do not set my life at a pins fee, And for my soul, what can it do to that, Being a thing immortal as itself? It waves me forth again, Ill follow it.
HORATIO  What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord, Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff That beetles oer his base into the sea, And there assume some other horrible form, Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason And draw you into madness? think of it, The very place puts toys of desperation, Without more motive, into every brain That looks so many fathoms to the sea And hears it roar beneath.
HAMLET  It waves me still. Go on, Ill follow thee.
MARCELLUS  You shall not go, my lord.
HAMLET  Hold off your hands
HORATIO  Be ruld, you shall not go.
HORATIO  He wares desperate with imagination.
MARCELLUS  Lets follow, tis not fit thus to obey him.
HORATIO  Have after. To what issue will this come?
MARCELLUS  Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
HORATIO  Heaven will direct it.
MARCELLUS  Nay, lets follow him.
HAMLET  Whither wilt thou lead me? speak, Ill go no further.
GHOST  Mark me.
HAMLET  I will.
GHOST  My hour is almost come, When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames Must render up myself.
HAMLET  Alas poor ghost.
GHOST  Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing To what I shall unfold.
HAMLET  Speak, I am bound to hear.
GHOST  So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.
HAMLET  What?
GHOST  I am thy fathers spirit, Doomd for a certain term to walk the night, And for the day confind to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature Are burnt and purgd away. But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand an end, Like quills upon the fretful porpentine But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O list If thou didst ever thy dear father love—
HAMLET  O God
GHOST  Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.
HAMLET  Murder
GHOST  Murder most foul, as in the best it is, But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
HAMLET  Haste me to knowt, that I, with wings as swift As meditation or the thoughts of love, May sweep to my revenge.
GHOST  I find thee apt, And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear Tis given out that, sleeping in mine orchard, A serpent stung me, so the whole ear of Denmark Is by a forged process of my death Rankly abusd, but know, thou noble youth, The serpent that did sting thy fathers life Now wears his crown.
HAMLET  O my prophetic soul My uncle
GHOST  Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,— O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power So to seduce—won to his shameful lust The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen. O Hamlet what a falling-off was there, From me, whose love was of that dignity That it went hand in hand even with the vow I made to her in marriage, and to decline Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor To those of mine But virtue, as it never will be movd, Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven, So lust, though to a radiant angel linkd, Will sate itself in a celestial bed, And prey on garbage. But, soft methinks I scent the morning air, Brief let me be. Sleeping within mine orchard, My custom always in the afternoon, Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, With juice of cursed hebona in a vial, And in the porches of mine ears did pour The leperous distilment, whose effect Holds such an enmity with blood of man That swift as quicksilver it courses through The natural gates and alleys of the body, And with a sudden vigour it doth posset And curd, like eager droppings into milk, The thin and wholesome blood so did it mine, And a most instant tetter barkd about, Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust, All my smooth body. Thus was I, sleeping, by a brothers hand, Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatchd, Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, Unhouseld, disappointed, unaneld, No reckoning made, but sent to my account With all my imperfections on my head O, horrible O, horrible most horrible If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not, Let not the royal bed of Denmark be A couch for luxury and damned incest. But, howsoever thou pursust this act, Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive Against thy mother aught, leave her to heaven, And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge, To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once The glow-worm shows the matin to be near, And gins to pale his uneffectual fire, Adieu, adieu Hamlet, remember me.
Writing.  So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word, It is, Adieu, adieu remember me. I have sworn t.
HAMLET  Hillo, ho, ho, boy come, bird, come.
MARCELLUS  How ist, my noble lord?
HORATIO  What news, my lord?
HAMLET  O wonderful.
HORATIO  Good my lord, tell it.
HAMLET  No, you will reveal it.
HORATIO  Not I, my lord, by heaven
MARCELLUS  Nor I, my lord.
HAMLET  How say you, then, would heart of man once think it? But youll be secret?
HORATIO  Ay, by heaven, my lord.
MARCELLUS  Ay, by heaven, my lord.
HAMLET  Theres neer a villain dwelling in all Denmark, But hes an arrant knave.
HORATIO  There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave, To tell us this.
HAMLET  Why, right, you are i the right, And so, without more circumstance at all, I hold it fit that we shake hands and part, You, as your business and desire shall point you,— For every man hath business and desire, Such as it is,—and, for mine own poor part, Look you, Ill go pray.
HORATIO  These are but wild and whirling words, my lord.
HAMLET  I am sorry they offend you, heartily, Yes, faith, heartily.
HORATIO  Theres no offence, my lord.
HAMLET  Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio, And much offence, too. Touching this vision here, It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you, For your desire to know what is between us, Oermastert as you may. And now, good friends, As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers, Give me one poor request.
HORATIO  What ist, my lord? we will.
HAMLET  Never make known what you have seen to-night.
HORATIO  My lord, we will not.
MARCELLUS  My lord, we will not.
HAMLET  Nay, but sweart.
HORATIO  In faith, My lord, not I.
MARCELLUS  Nor I, my lord, in faith.
HAMLET  Upon my sword.
MARCELLUS  We have sworn, my lord, already.
HAMLET  Indeed, upon my sword, indeed.
HAMLET  Ah, ha, boy sayst thou so? art thou there, true-penny? Come on,—you hear this fellow in the cellar-age,— Consent to swear.
HORATIO  Propose the oath, my lord.
HAMLET  Never to speak of this that you have seen, Swear by my sword.
HAMLET  Hic et ubique? then well shift our ground. Come hither, gentlemen, And lay your hands again upon my sword Never to speak of this that you have heard, Swear by my sword.
HAMLET  Well said, old mole canst work i the earth so fast? A worthy pioner once more remove, good friends.
HORATIO  O day and night, but this is wondrous strange
HAMLET  And therefore as a stranger give it welcome. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. But come, Here, as before, never, so help you mercy, How strange or odd soeer I bear myself, As I perchance hereafter shall think meet To put an antic disposition on, That you, at such times seeing me, never shall, With arms encumberd thus, or this head-shake, Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase, As, Well, well, we know, or, We could, an if we would, Or, If we list to speak, or, There be, an if they might, Or such ambiguous giving out, to note That you know aught of me this not to do, So grace and mercy at your most need help you, Swear.
HAMLET  Rest, rest, perturbed spirit So, gentlemen, With all my love I do commend me to you And what so poor a man as Hamlet is May do, to express his love and friending to you, God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together, And still your fingers on your lips, I pray. The time is out of joint, O cursed spite, That ever I was born to set it right Nay, come, lets go together.
POLONIUS  Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo.
REYNALDO  I will, my lord.
POLONIUS  You shall do marvellous wisely, good Reynaldo, Before you visit him, to make inquiry Of his behaviour.
REYNALDO  My lord, I did intend it.
POLONIUS  Marry, well said, very well said. Look you, sir, Inquire me first what Danskers are in Paris, And how, and who, what means, and where they keep, What company, at what expense, and finding By this encompassment and drift of question That they do know my son, come you more nearer Than your particular demands will touch it Take you, as twere, some distant knowledge of him, As thus, I know his father, and his friends, And, in part, him, do you mark this, Reynaldo?
REYNALDO  Ay, very well, my lord.
POLONIUS  And, in part, him, but, you may say, not well But ift be he I mean, hes very wild, Addicted so and so, and there put on him What forgeries you please, marry, none so rank As may dishonour him, take heed of that, But, sir, such wanton, wild, and usual slips As are companions noted and most known To youth and liberty.
REYNALDO  As gaming, my lord?
POLONIUS  Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling, Drabbing, you may go so far.
REYNALDO  My lord, that would dishonour him.
POLONIUS  Faith, no, as you may season it in the charge. You must not put another scandal on him, That he is open to incontinency, Thats not my meaning, but breathe his faults so quaintly That they may seem the taints of liberty, The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind, A savageness in unreclaimed blood, Of general assault.
REYNALDO  But, my good lord,—
POLONIUS  Wherefore should you do this?
REYNALDO  Ay, my lord, I would know that.
POLONIUS  Marry, sir, heres my drift, And, I believe, it is a fetch of warrant You laying these slight sullies on my son, As twere a thing a little soild i the working, Mark you, Your party in converse, him you would sound, Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes The youth you breathe of guilty, be assurd, He closes with you in this consequence, Good sir, or so, or friend, or gentleman, According to the phrase or the addition Of man and country.
REYNALDO  Very good, my lord.
POLONIUS  And then, sir, does he this,—he does,—what was I about to say? By the mass I was about to say something where did I leave?
REYNALDO  At closes in the consequence. At friend or so, and gentleman.
POLONIUS  At closes in the consequence, ay, marry, He closes with you thus I know the gentleman, I saw him yesterday, or t other day, Or then, or then, with such, or such, and, as you say, There was a gaming, there oertook in s rouse, There falling out at tennis, or perchance, I saw him enter such a house of sale, Videlicet, a brothel, or so forth. See you now, Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth, And thus do we of wisdom and of reach, With windlasses, and with assays of bias, By indirections find directions out So by my former lecture and advice Shall you my son. You have me, have you not?
REYNALDO  My lord, I have.
POLONIUS  God be wi you, fare you well.
REYNALDO  Good my lord
POLONIUS  Observe his inclination in yourself.
REYNALDO  I shall, my lord.
POLONIUS  And let him ply his music.
REYNALDO  Well, my lord.
POLONIUS  Farewell
OPHELIA  Alas my lord, I have been so affrighted.
POLONIUS  With what, in the name of God?
OPHELIA  My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbracd, No hat upon his head, his stockings fould, Ungarterd, and down-gyved to his ancle, Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other, And with a look so piteous in purport As if he had been loosed out of hell To speak of horrors, he comes before me.
POLONIUS  Mad for thy love?
OPHELIA  My lord, I do not know, But truly I do fear it.
POLONIUS  What said he?
OPHELIA  He took me by the wrist and held me hard, Then goes he to the length of all his arm, And, with his other hand thus oer his brow, He falls to such perusal of my face As he would draw it. Long stayd he so, At last, a little shaking of mine arm, And thrice his head thus waving up and down, He raisd a sigh so piteous and profound That it did seem to shatter all his bulk And end his being. That done, he lets me go, And, with his head over his shoulder turnd, He seemd to find his way without his eyes, For out o doors he went without their help, And to the last bended their light on me.
POLONIUS  Come, go with me, I will go seek the king. This is the very ecstasy of love, Whose violent property fordoes itself And leads the will to desperate undertakings As oft as any passion under heaven That does afflict our natures. I am sorry. What have you given him any hard words of late?
OPHELIA  No, my good lord, but, as you did command, I did repel his letters and denied His access to me.
POLONIUS  That hath made him mad. I am sorry that with better heed and judgment I had not quoted him, I feard he did but trifle, And meant to wrack thee, but, beshrew my jealousy By heaven, it is as proper to our age To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions As it is common for the younger sort To lack discretion. Come, go we to the king This must be known, which, being kept close, might move More grief to hide than hate to utter love. Come.
KING  Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Moreover that we much did long to see you, The need we have to use you did provoke Our hasty sending. Something have you heard Of Hamlets transformation, so I call it, Since nor the exterior nor the inward man Resembles that it was. What it should be More than his fathers death, that thus hath put him So much from the understanding of himself, I cannot dream of I entreat you both, That, being of so young days brought up with him, And since so neighbourd to his youth and humour, That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court Some little time, so by your companies To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather, So much as from occasion you may glean, Wher aught to us unknown afflicts him thus, That, opend, lies within our remedy.
QUEEN  Good gentlemen, he hath much talkd of you, And sure I am two men there are not living To whom he more adheres. If it will please you To show us so much gentry and good will As to expend your time with us awhile, For the supply and profit of our hope, Your visitation shall receive such thanks As fits a kings remembrance.
ROSENCRANTZ  Both your majesties Might, by the sovereign power you have of us, Put your dread pleasures more into command Than to entreaty.
GUILDENSTERN  But we both obey, And here give up ourselves, in the full bent, To lay our service freely at your feet, To be commanded.
KING  Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern.
QUEEN  Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz, And I beseech you instantly to visit My too much changed son. Go, some of you, And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is.
GUILDENSTERN  Heavens make our presence, and our practices Pleasant and helpful to him
QUEEN  Ay, amen
POLONIUS  The ambassadors from Norway, my good lord, Are joyfully returnd.
KING  Thou still hast been the father of good news.
POLONIUS  Have I, my lord? Assure you, my good liege, I hold my duty, as I hold my soul, Both to my God and to my gracious king, And I do think—or else this brain of mine Hunts not the trail of policy so sure As it hath usd to do—that I have found The very cause of Hamlets lunacy.
KING  O speak of that, that do I long to hear.
POLONIUS  Give first admittance to the ambassadors, My news shall be the fruit to that great feast.
KING  Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in. He tells me, my sweet queen, that he hath found The head and source of all your sons distemper.
QUEEN  I doubt it is no-other but the main, His fathers death, and our oerhasty marriage.
KING  It likes us well, And at our more considerd time well read, Answer, and think upon this business Meantime we thank you for your well-took labour. Go to your rest, at night well feast together Most welcome home.
POLONIUS  This business is well ended. My liege, and madam, to expostulate What majesty should be, what duty is, Why day is day, night night, and time is time, Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time. Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief. Your noble son is mad Mad call I it, for, to define true madness, What is t but to be nothing else but mad? But let that go.
QUEEN  More matter, with less art.
POLONIUS  Madam, I swear I use no art at all. That he is mad, tis true, tis true tis pity, And pity tis tis true a foolish figure, But farewell it, for I will use no art. Mad let us grant him, then, and now remains That we find out the cause of this effect, Or rather say, the cause of this defect, For this effect defective comes by cause, Thus it remains, and the remainder thus. Perpend. I have a daughter, have while she is mine, Who, in her duty and obedience, mark, Hath given me this now, gather, and surmise. To the celestial, and my souls idol, the most beautified Ophelia.— Thats an ill phrase, a vile phrase, beautified is a vile phrase, but you shall hear. Thus In her excellent white bosom, these, .—
QUEEN  Came this from Hamlet to her?
POLONIUS  Good madam, stay awhile, I will be faithful. Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move, Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love. O dear Ophelia I am ill at these numbers I have not art to reckon my groans, but that I love thee best, O most best believe it. Adieu. Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him,HAMLET. This in obedience hath my daughter shown me, And more above, hath his solicitings, As they fell out by time, by means, and place, All given to mine ear.
KING  But how hath she Receivd his love?
POLONIUS  What do you think of me?
KING  As of a man faithful and honourable.
POLONIUS  I would fain prove so. But what might you think, When I had seen this hot love on the wing,— As I perceivd it, I must tell you that, Before my daughter told me,—what might you, Or my dear majesty, your queen here, think, If I had playd the desk or table-book, Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb, Or lookd upon this love with idle sight, What might you think? No, I went round to work, And my young mistress thus I did bespeak Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star, This must not be and then I precepts gave her, That she should lock herself from his resort, Admit no messengers, receive no tokens. Which done, she took the fruits of my advice, And he, repulsed,—a short tale to make,— Fell into a sadness, then into a fast, Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness, Thence to a lightness, and by this declension Into the madness wherein now he raves, And all we wail for.
KING  Do you think tis this?
QUEEN  It may be, very likely.
POLONIUS  Hath there been such a time,—Id fain know that,— That I have positively said, Tis so, When it provd otherwise?
KING  Not that I know.
KING  How may we try it further?
POLONIUS  You know sometimes he walks four hours together Here in the lobby.
QUEEN  So he does indeed.
POLONIUS  At such a time Ill loose my daughter to him, Be you and I behind an arras then, Mark the encounter, if he love her not, And be not from his reason fallen thereon, Let me be no assistant for a state, But keep a farm, and carters.
KING  We will try it.
QUEEN  But look, where sadly the poor wretch comes reading.
HAMLET  Well, God a-mercy.
POLONIUS  Do you know me, my lord?
HAMLET  Excellent well, you are a fishmonger.
POLONIUS  Not I, my lord.
HAMLET  Then I would you were so honest a man.
POLONIUS  Honest, my lord
HAMLET  Ay, sir, to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
POLONIUS  Thats very true, my lord.
HAMLET  For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a good kissing carrion,—Have you a daughter?
POLONIUS  I have, my lord.
HAMLET  Let her not walk i the sun conception is a blessing, but not as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to t.
HAMLET  Words, words, words.
POLONIUS  What is the matter, my lord?
HAMLET  Between who?
POLONIUS  I mean the matter that you read, my lord.
HAMLET  Slanders, sir for the satirical rogue says here that old men have grey beards, that their faces are wrinkled, their eyes purging thick amber and plum-tree gum, and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams all which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down, for you yourself, sir, should be old as I am, if, like a crab, you could go backward.
HAMLET  Into my grave?
HAMLET  You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal, except my life, except my life, except my life.
POLONIUS  Fare you well, my lord.
HAMLET  These tedious old fools
POLONIUS  You go to seek the Lord Hamlet, there he is.
GUILDENSTERN  Mine honoured lord
ROSENCRANTZ  My most dear lord
HAMLET  My excellent good friends How dost thou, Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz Good lads, how do ye both?
ROSENCRANTZ  As the indifferent children of the earth.
GUILDENSTERN  Happy in that we are not over happy, On Fortunes cap we are not the very button.
HAMLET  Nor the soles of her shoe?
ROSENCRANTZ  Neither, my lord.
HAMLET  Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her favours?
GUILDENSTERN  Faith, her privates we.
HAMLET  In the secret parts of Fortune? O most true, she is a strumpet. What news?
ROSENCRANTZ  None, my lord, but that the worlds grown honest.
HAMLET  Then is doomsday near, but your news is not true. Let me question more in particular what have you, my good friends, deserved at the hands of Fortune, that she sends you to prison hither?
GUILDENSTERN  Prison, my lord
HAMLET  Denmarks a prison.
ROSENCRANTZ  Then is the world one.
HAMLET  A goodly one, in which there are many confines, wards, and dungeons, Denmark being one o the worst.
ROSENCRANTZ  We think not so, my lord.
HAMLET  Why, then, tis none to you, for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so to me it is a prison.
ROSENCRANTZ  Why, then your ambition makes it one, tis too narrow for your mind.
HAMLET  O God I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.
GUILDENSTERN  Which dreams, indeed, are ambition, for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.
HAMLET  A dream itself is but a shadow.
ROSENCRANTZ  Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality that it is but a shadows shadow.
HAMLET  Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and outstretched heroes the beggars shadows. Shall we to the court? for, by my fay, I cannot reason.
ROSENCRANTZ  Well wait upon you.
GUILDENSTERN  Well wait upon you.
HAMLET  No such matter, I will not sort you with the rest of my servants, for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most dreadfully attended. But, in the beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore?
ROSENCRANTZ  To visit you, my lord, no other occasion.
HAMLET  Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks, but I thank you and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear a halfpenny. Were you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come, come, deal justly with me come, come, nay, speak.
GUILDENSTERN  What should we say, my lord?
HAMLET  Why anything, but to the purpose. You were sent for, and there is a kind of confession in your looks which your modesties have not craft enough to colour I know the good king and queen have sent for you.
ROSENCRANTZ  To what end, my lord?
HAMLET  That you must teach me. But let me conjure you, by the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by what more dear a better proposer could charge you withal, be even and direct with me, whether you were sent for or no
GUILDENSTERN  My lord, we were sent for.
HAMLET  I will tell you why, so shall my anticipation prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king and queen moult no feather. I have of late,—but wherefore I know not,—lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises, and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave oerhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man How noble in reason how infinite in faculty in form, in moving, how express and admirable in action how like an angel in apprehension how like a god the beauty of the world the paragon of animals And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not me, no, nor woman neither, though, by your smiling, you seem to say so.
ROSENCRANTZ  My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.
HAMLET  Why did you laugh then, when I said, man delights not me?
ROSENCRANTZ  To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten entertainment the players shall receive from you we coted them on the way, and hither are they coming, to offer you service.
HAMLET  He that plays the king shall be welcome, his majesty shall have tribute of me, the adventurous knight shall use his foil and target, the lover shall not sigh gratis, the humorous man shall end his part in peace, the clown shall make those laugh whose lungs are tickle o the sere, and the lady shall say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt fort. What players are they?
ROSENCRANTZ  Even those you were wont to take delight in, the tragedians of the city.
HAMLET  How chances it they travel? their residence, both in reputation and profit, was better both ways.
ROSENCRANTZ  I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late innovation.
HAMLET  Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the city? Are they so followed?
ROSENCRANTZ  No, indeed they are not.
HAMLET  How comes it? Do they grow rusty?
ROSENCRANTZ  Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace but there is, sir, an aery of children, little eyases, that cry out on the top of question, and are most tyrannically clapped fort these are now the fashion, and so berattle the common stages,—so they call them,—that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goose-quills, and dare scarce come thither.
HAMLET  What are they children? who maintains em? how are they escoted? Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can sing? will they not say afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common players,—as it is most like, if their means are no better,—their writers do them wrong, to make them exclaim against their own succession?
ROSENCRANTZ  Faith, there has been much to-do on both sides and the nation holds it no sin to tarre them to controversy there was, for a while, no money bid for argument, unless the poet and the player went to cuffs in the question.
HAMLET  Is it possible?
GUILDENSTERN  O there has been much throwing about of brains.
HAMLET  Do the boys carry it away?
ROSENCRANTZ  Ay, that they do, my lord, Hercules and his load too.
HAMLET  It is not very strange, for my uncle is King of Denmark, and those that would make mows at him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, a hundred ducats a-piece for his picture in little. Sblood, there is something in this more than natural, if philosophy could find it out.
GUILDENSTERN  There are the players.
HAMLET  Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands, come then, the appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony let me comply with you in this garb, lest my extent to the players—which, I tell you, must show fairly outward—should more appear like entertainment than yours. You are welcome, but my uncle-father and aunt-mother are deceived.
GUILDENSTERN  In what, my dear lord?
HAMLET  I am but mad north-north-west when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.
POLONIUS  Well be with you, gentlemen
HAMLET  Hark you, Guildenstern, and you too, at each ear a hearer that great baby you see there is not yet out of his swaddling-clouts.
ROSENCRANTZ  Happily hes the second time come to them, for they say an old man is twice a child.
HAMLET  I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players, mark it. You say right, sir, o Monday morning, twas so indeed.
POLONIUS  My lord, I have news to tell you.
HAMLET  My lord, I have news to tell you. When Roscius was an actor in Rome,—
POLONIUS  The actors are come hither, my lord.
HAMLET  Buzz, buzz
POLONIUS  Upon my honour,—
HAMLET  Then came each actor on his ass,—
POLONIUS  The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral, scene individable, or poem unlimited Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these are the only men.
HAMLET  O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou
POLONIUS  What a treasure had he, my lord?
HAMLET  Why One fair daughter and no more, The which he loved passing well.
HAMLET  Am I not i the right, old Jephthah?
POLONIUS  If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter that I love passing well.
HAMLET  Nay, that follows not.
POLONIUS  What follows, then, my lord?
HAMLET  Why, As by lot, God wot. And then, you know, It came to pass, as most like it was.— The first row of the pious chanson will show you more, for look where my abridgment comes.
PLAYER1  What speech, my good lord?
HAMLET  I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was never acted, or, if it was, not above once, for the play, I remember, pleased not the million, twas caviare to the general but it was—as I received it, and others, whose judgments in such matters cried in the top of mine—an excellent play, well digested in the scenes, set down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember one said there were no sallets in the lines to make the matter savoury, nor no matter in the phrase that might indict the author of affectation, but called it an honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine. One speech in it I chiefly loved, twas Æneas tale to Dido, and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of Priams slaughter. If it live in your memory, begin at this line let me see, let me see— Therugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast,— tis not so, it begins with Pyrrhus— The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arm, Black as his purpose, did the night resemble When he lay couched in the ominous horse, Hath now this dread and black complexion smeard With heraldry more dismal, head to foot Now is he total gules, horridly trickd With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, Bakd and impasted with the parching streets, That lend a tyrannous and damned light To their vile murders rousted in wrath and fire, And thus oer-sized with coagulate gore, With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus Old grandsire Priam seeks. So proceed you.
POLONIUS  Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and good discretion.
PLAYER1  Anon, he finds him Striking too short at Greeks, his antique sword, Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls, Repugnant to command. Unequal matchd, Pyrrhus at Priam drives, in rage strikes wide, But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium, Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash Takes prisoner Pyrrhus ear for lo his sword, Which was declining on the milky head Of rever end Priam, seemd i the air to stick So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood, And like a neutral to his will and matter, Did nothing. But, as we often see, against some storm, A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still, The bold winds speechless and the orb below As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder Doth rend the region, so, after Pyrrhus pause, Aroused vengeance sets him new a-work, And never did the Cyclops hammers fall On Marss armour, forgd for proof eterne, With less remorse than Pyrrhus bleeding sword Now falls on Priam. Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune All you gods, In general synod, take away her power, Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel, And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven, As low as to the fiends
POLONIUS  This is too long.
HAMLET  It shall to the barbers, with your beard. Prithee, say on hes for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps. Say on, come to Hecuba.
PLAYER1  But who, O who had seen the mobled queen—
HAMLET  The mobled queen?—
POLONIUS  Thats good, mobled queen is good.
PLAYER1  Run barefoot up and down, threatning the flames With bisson rheum, a clout upon that head Where late the diadem stood, and, for a robe, About her lank and all oer-teemed loins, A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up, Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steepd, Gainst Fortunes state would treason have pronouncd But if the gods themselves did see her then, When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport In mincing with his sword her husbands limbs, The instant burst of clamour that she made— Unless things mortal move them not at all— Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven, And passion in the gods.
POLONIUS  Look wher he has not turned his colour and has tears ins eyes. Prithee, no more.
HAMLET  Tis well, Ill have thee speak out the rest soon. Good my lord, will you see the players well bestowed? Do you hear, let them be well used, for they are the abstracts and brief chronicles of the time after your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live.
POLONIUS  My lord, I will use them according to their desert.
HAMLET  Gods bodikins, man, much better, use every man after his desert, and who should scape whipping? Use them after your own honour and dignity the less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty. Take them in.
POLONIUS  Come, sirs.
PLAYER1  Ay, my lord.
HAMLET  Well hat to-morrow night. You could, for a need, study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines, which I would set down and insert int, could you not?
PLAYER1  Ay, my lord.
ROSENCRANTZ  Good my lord
HAMLET  Ay, so, God be wi ye Now I am alone. O what a rogue and peasant slave am I Is it not monstrous that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit That from her working all his visage wannd, Tears in his eyes, distraction in s aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing For Hecuba What s Hecuba to him or he to Hecuba That he should weep for her? What would he do Had he the motive and the cue for passion That I have? He would drown the stage with tears, And cleave the general ear with horrid speech, Make mad the guilty and appal the free, Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed The very faculties of eyes and ears. Yet I, A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak, Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause, And can say nothing, no, not for a king, Upon whose property and most dear life A damnd defeat was made. Am I a coward? Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across? Plucks off my beard and blows it in my face? Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i the throat, As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this? Ha Swounds, I should take it, for it cannot be But I am pigeon-liverd, and lack gall To make oppression bitter, or ere this I should have fatted all the region kites With this slaves offal. Bloody, bawdy villain Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain O vengeance Why, what an ass am I This is most brave That I, the son of a dear father murderd, Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell, Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words, And fall a-cursing, like a very drab, A scullion Fie upont foh About, my brain I have heard, That guilty creatures sitting at a play Have by the very cunning of the scene Been struck so to the soul that presently They have proclaimd their malefactions, For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ. Ill have these players Play something like the murder of my father Before mine uncle, Ill observe his looks, Ill tent him to the quick if he but blench I know my course. The spirit that I have seen May be the devil and the devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape, yea, and perhaps Out of my weakness and my melancholy— As he is very potent with such spirits— Abuses me to damn me. Ill have grounds More relative than this the play s the thing Wherein Ill catch the conscience of the king.
KING  And can you, by no drift of circumstance, Get from him why he puts on this confusion, Grating so harshly all his days of quiet With turbulent and dangerous lunacy?
ROSENCRANTZ  He does confess he feels himself distracted, But from what cause he will by no means speak.
GUILDENSTERN  Nor do we find him forward to be sounded, But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof, When we would bring him on to some confession Of his true state.
QUEEN  Did he receive you well?
ROSENCRANTZ  Most like a gentleman.
GUILDENSTERN  But with much forcing of his disposition.
ROSENCRANTZ  Niggard of question, but of our demands Most free in his reply.
QUEEN  Did you assay him To any pastime?
ROSENCRANTZ  Madam, it so fell out that certain players We oer-raught on the way, of these we told him, And there did seem in him a kind of joy To hear of it they are about the court, And, as I think, they have already order This night to play before him.
POLONIUS  Tis most true, And he beseechd me to entreat your majesties To hear and see the matter.
KING  With all my heart, and it doth much content me To hear him so inclind. Good gentlemen, give him a further edge, And drive his purpose on to these delights.
ROSENCRANTZ  We shall, my lord.
KING  Sweet Gertrude, leave us too, For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither, That he, as twere by accident, may here Affront Ophelia. Her father and myself, lawful espials, Will so bestow ourselves, that, seeing, unseen, We may of their encounter frankly judge, And gather by him, as he is behavd, If t be the affliction of his love or no That thus he suffers for.
QUEEN  I shall obey you. And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish That your good beauties be the happy cause Of Hamlets wildness, so shall I hope your virtues Will bring him to his wonted way again, To both your honours.
OPHELIA  Madam, I wish it may.
Aside.  How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience The harlots cheek, beautied with plastering art, Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it Than is my deed to my most painted word O heavy burden
POLONIUS  I hear him coming, lets withdraw, my lord.
HAMLET  To be, or not to be that is the question Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? To die to sleep, No more, and, by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, tis a consummation Devoutly to be wishd. To die, to sleep, To sleep perchance to dream ay, theres the rub, For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause. Theres the respect That makes calamity of so long life, For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressors wrong, the proud mans contumely, The pangs of disprizd love, the laws delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscoverd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied oer with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action. Soft you now The fair Ophelia Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins rememberd.
OPHELIA  Good my lord, How does your honour for this many a day?
HAMLET  I humbly thank you, well, well, well.
OPHELIA  My lord, I have remembrances of yours, That I have longed long to re-deliver, I pray you, now receive them.
HAMLET  No, not I, I never gave you aught.
OPHELIA  My honourd lord, you know right well you did, And, with them, words of so sweet breath composd As made the things more rich their perfume lost, Take these again, for to the noble mind Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind. There, my lord.
HAMLET  Ha, ha are you honest?
OPHELIA  My lord
HAMLET  Are you fair?
OPHELIA  What means your lordship?
HAMLET  That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no discourse to your beauty.
OPHELIA  Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?
HAMLET  Ay, truly, for the power of beauty will sooner transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the force of honesty can translate beauty into his likeness this was sometime a paradox, but now the time gives it proof. I did love thee once.
OPHELIA  Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.
HAMLET  You should not have believed me, for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it I loved you not.
OPHELIA  I was the more deceived.
HAMLET  Get thee to a nunnery why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me. I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between heaven and earth? We are arrant knaves, all, believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. Wheres your father?
OPHELIA  At home, my lord.
HAMLET  Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool nowhere but ins own house. Farewell.
OPHELIA  O help him, you sweet heavens
HAMLET  If thou dost marry, Ill give thee this plague for thy dowry be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a nunnery, go, farewell. Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool, for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go, and quickly too. Farewell.
OPHELIA  O heavenly powers, restore him
HAMLET  I have heard of your paintings too, well enough, God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nickname Gods creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance. Go to, Ill no more ont, it hath made me mad. I say, we will have no more marriages, those that are married already, all but one, shall live, the rest shall keep as they are. To a nunnery, go.
OPHELIA  O what a noble mind is here oerthrown The courtiers, soldiers, scholars, eye, tongue, sword, The expectancy and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion and the mould of form, The observd of all observers, quite, quite down And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, That suckd the honey of his music vows, Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh, That unmatchd form and feature of blown youth Blasted with ecstasy O woe is me, To have seen what I have seen, see what I see
KING  Love his affections do not that way tend, Nor what he spake, though it lackd form a little, Was not like madness. Theres something in his soul Oer which his melancholy sits on brood, And, I do doubt, the hatch and the disclose Will be some danger, which for to prevent, I have in quick determination Thus set it down he shall with speed to England, For the demand of our neglected tribute Haply the seas and countries different With variable objects shall expel This something-settled matter in his heart, Whereon his brains still beating puts him thus From fashion of himself. What think you ont?
POLONIUS  It shall do well but yet do I believe The origin and commencement of his grief Sprung from neglected love. How now, Ophelia You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said, We heard it all. My lord, do as you please, But, if you hold it fit, after the play, Let his queen mother all alone entreat him To show his griefs let her be round with him, And Ill be placd, so please you, in the ear Of all their conference. If she find him not, To England send him, or confine him where Your wisdom best shall think.
KING  It shall be so Madness in great ones must not unwatchd go.
HAMLET  Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue, but if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently for in the very torrent, tempest, and—as I may say—whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance, that may give it smoothness. O it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious periwigpated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rage, to split the ears of the groundlings, who for the most part are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb-shows and noise I would have such a fellow whipped for oer-doing Termagant, it out-herods Herod pray you, avoid it.
PLAYER1  I warrant your honour.
HAMLET  Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor suit the action to the word, the word to the action, with this special observance, that you oerstep not the modesty of nature, for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as twere, the mirror up to nature, to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure. Now, this overdone, or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve, the censure of which one must in your allowance oerweigh a whole theatre of others. O there be players that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that, neither having the accent of Christians nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of natures journeymen had made men and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.
PLAYER1  I hope we have reformed that indifferently with us.
HAMLET  O reform it altogether. And let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them, for there be of them that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too, though in the mean time some necessary question of the play be then to be considered, thats villanous, and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it. Go, make you ready.
POLONIUS  And the queen too, and that presently.
HAMLET  Bid the players make haste. Will you two help to hasten them?
ROSENCRANTZ  We will, my lord.
GUILDENSTERN  We will, my lord.
HAMLET  What, ho Horatio
HORATIO  Here, sweet lord, at your service.
HAMLET  Horatio, thou art een as just a man As eer my conversation copd withal.
HORATIO  O my dear lord,—
HAMLET  Nay, do not think I flatter, For what advancement may I hope from thee, That no revenue hast but thy good spirits To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatterd? No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear? Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice And could of men distinguish, her election Hath seald thee for herself, for thou hast been As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing, A man that fortunes buffets and rewards Hast taen with equal thanks, and blessd are those Whose blood and judgment are so well comingled That they are not a pipe for fortunes finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passions slave, and I will wear him In my hearts core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee. Something too much of this. There is a play to-night before the king, One scene of it comes near the circumstance Which I have told thee of my fathers death I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot, Even with the very comment of thy soul Observe mine uncle, if his occulted guilt Do not itself unkennel in one speech, It is a damned ghost that we have seen, And my imaginations are as foul As Vulcans stithy. Give him heedful note, For I mine eyes will rivet to his face, And after we will both our judgments join In censure of his seeming.
HORATIO  Well, my lord If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing, And scape detecting, I will pay the theft.
HAMLET  They are coming to the play, I must be idle Get you a place.
KING  How fares our cousin Hamlet?
HAMLET  Excellent, i faith, of the chameleons dish I eat the air, promise-crammed, you cannot feed capons so.
KING  I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet, these words are not mine.
POLONIUS  That did I, my lord, and was accounted a good actor.
HAMLET  And what did you enact?
POLONIUS  I did enact Julius Cæsar I was killed i the Capitol, Brutus killed me.
HAMLET  It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf there. Be the playcrs ready?
ROSENCRANTZ  Ay, my lord, they stay upon your patience.
QUEEN  Come hither, my good Hamlet, sit by me.
HAMLET  No, good mother, heres metal more attractive.
HAMLET  Lady, shall I lie in your lap?
OPHELIA  No, my lord.
HAMLET  I mean, my head upon your lap?
OPHELIA  Ay, my lord.
HAMLET  Do you think I meant country matters?
OPHELIA  I think nothing, my lord.
HAMLET  Thats a fair thought to lie between maids legs.
OPHELIA  What is, my lord?
HAMLET  Nothing.
OPHELIA  You are merry, my lord.
HAMLET  Who, I?
OPHELIA  Ay, my lord.
HAMLET  O God, your only jig-maker. What should a man do but be merry? for, look you, how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died withins two hours.
OPHELIA  Nay, tis twice two months, my lord.
HAMLET  So long? Nay, then, let the devil wear black, for Ill have a suit of sables. O heavens die two months ago, and not forgotten yet? Then theres hope a great mans memory may outlive his life half a year, but, byr lady, he must build churches then, or else shall he suffer not thinking on, with the hobby-horse, whose epitaph is, For, O for, O the hobby-horse is forgot.
OPHELIA  What means this, my lord?
HAMLET  Marry, this is miching mallecho, it means mischief.
OPHELIA  Belike this show imports the argument of the play.
HAMLET  We shall know by this fellow the players cannot keep counsel, theyll tell all.
OPHELIA  Will he tell us what this show meant?
HAMLET  Ay, or any show that youll show him, be not you ashamed to show, hell not shame to tell you what it means.
OPHELIA  You are naught, you are naught. Ill mark the play.
HAMLET  Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?
OPHELIA  Tis brief, my lord.
HAMLET  As womans love.
HAMLET  If she should break it now
HAMLET  Madam, how like you this play?
QUEEN  The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
HAMLET  O but shell keep her word.
KING  Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in t?
HAMLET  No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest, no offence i the world.
KING  What do you call the play?
HAMLET  The Mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically. This play is the image of a murder done in Vienna Gonzago is the dukes name, his wife, Baptista. You shall see anon, tis a knavish piece of work but what of that? your majesty and we that have free souls, it touches us not let the galled jade wince, our withers are unwrung.
OPHELIA  You are a good chorus, my lord.
HAMLET  I could interpret between you and your love, if I could see the puppets dallying.
OPHELIA  You are keen, my lord, you are keen.
HAMLET  It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge.
OPHELIA  Still better, and worse.
HAMLET  So you must take your husbands. Begin, murderer, pox, leave thy damnable faces, and begin. Come, the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.
LUCIANUS  Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing, Confederate season, else no creature seeing, Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected, With Hecates ban thrice blasted, thrice infected, Thy natural magic and dire property, On wholesome life usurp immediately.
HAMLET  He poisons him i the garden fors estate. Hisnames Gonzago, the story is extant, and writ in very choice Italian. You shall see anon how the murderer gets the love of Gonzagos wife.
OPHELIA  The king rises.
HAMLET  What frighted with false fire?
QUEEN  How fares my lord?
POLONIUS  Give oer the play.
KING  Give me some light away
ALL  Lights, lights, lights
HAMLET  Why, let the stricken deer go weep, The hart ungalled play, For some must watch, while some must sleep So runs the world away. Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers, if the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me, with two Provincial roses on my razed shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players, sir?
HORATIO  Half a share.
HAMLET  A whole one, I. For thou dost know, O Damon dear, This realm dismantled was Of Jove himself, and now reigns here A very, very—pajock.
HORATIO  You might have rimed.
HAMLET  O good Horatio Ill take the ghosts word for a thousand pound. Didst perceive?
HORATIO  Very well, my lord.
HAMLET  Upon the talk of the poisoning?
HORATIO  I did very well note him.
HAMLET  Ah, ha Come, some music come, the recorders For if the king like not the comedy, Why then, belike he likes it not, perdy. Come, some music
GUILDENSTERN  Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you.
HAMLET  Sir, a whole history.
GUILDENSTERN  The king, sir,—
HAMLET  Ay, sir, what of him?
GUILDENSTERN  Is in his retirement marvellous distempered.
HAMLET  With drink, sir?
GUILDENSTERN  No, my lord, rather with choler.
HAMLET  Your wisdom should show itself more richer to signify this to his doctor, for, for me to put him to his purgation would perhaps plunge him into far more choler.
GUILDENSTERN  Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame, and start not so wildly from my affair.
HAMLET  I am tame, sir, pronounce.
GUILDENSTERN  The queen, your mother, in most great affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you.
HAMLET  You are welcome.
GUILDENSTERN  Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right breed. If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer, I will do your mothers commandment, if not, your pardon and my return shall be the end of my business.
HAMLET  Sir, I cannot.
GUILDENSTERN  What, my lord?
HAMLET  Make you a wholesome answer, my wits diseased, but, sir, such answer as I can make, you shall command, or, rather, as you say, my mother therefore no more, but to the matter my mother, you say,—
ROSENCRANTZ  Then, thus she says your behaviour hath struck her into amasement and admiration.
HAMLET  O wonderful son, that can so astonish a mother But is there no sequel at the heels of this mothers admiration? Impart.
ROSENCRANTZ  She desires to speak with you in her closet ere you go to bed.
HAMLET  We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have you any further trade with us?
ROSENCRANTZ  My lord, you once did love me.
HAMLET  So I do still, by these pickers and stealers.
ROSENCRANTZ  Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? you do surely bar the door upon your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to your friend.
HAMLET  Sir, I lack advancement.
ROSENCRANTZ  How can that be when you have the voice of the king himself for your succession in Denmark?
HAMLET  Ay, sir, but While the grass grows,—the proverb is something musty.
GUILDENSTERN  O my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly.
HAMLET  I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe?
GUILDENSTERN  My lord, I cannot.
HAMLET  I pray you.
GUILDENSTERN  Believe me, I cannot.
HAMLET  I do beseech you.
GUILDENSTERN  I know no touch of it, my lord.
HAMLET  Tis as easy as lying, govern these ventages with your finger and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops.
GUILDENSTERN  But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony, I have not the skill.
HAMLET  Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me. You would play upon me, you would seem to know my stops, you would pluck out the heart of my mystery, you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass, and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
POLONIUS  My lord, the queen would speak with you, and presently.
HAMLET  Do you see yonder cloud thats almost in shape of a camel?
POLONIUS  By the mass, and tis like a camel, indeed.
HAMLET  Methinks it is like a weasel.
POLONIUS  It is backed like a weasel.
HAMLET  Or like a whale?
POLONIUS  Very like a whale.
POLONIUS  I will say so.
HAMLET  By and by is easily said. Leave me, friends. Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the day Would quake to look on. Soft now to my mother. O heart lose not thy nature, let not ever The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom, Let me be cruel, not unnatural, I will speak daggers to her, but use none, My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites, How in my words soever she be shent, To give them seals never, my soul, consent
KING  I like him not, nor stands it safe with us To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you, I your commission will forth with dispatch, And he to England shall along with you. The terms of our estate may not endure Hazard so dangerous as doth hourly grow Out of his lunacies.
GUILDENSTERN  We will ourselves provide. Most holy and religious fear it is To keep those many many bodies safe That live and feed upon your majesty.
ROSENCRANTZ  The single and peculiar life is bound With all the strength and armour of the mind To keep itself from noyance, but much more That spirit upon whose weal depend and rest The lives of many. The cease of majesty Dies not alone, but, like a gulf doth draw Whats near it with it, it is a massy wheel, Fixd on the summit of the highest mount, To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things Are mortisd and adjoind, which, when it falls, Each small annexment, petty consequence, Attends the boisterous ruin. Never alone Did the king sigh, but with a general groan.
KING  Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage, For we will fetters put upon this fear, Which now goes too free-footed.
ROSENCRANTZ  We will haste us.
GUILDENSTERN  We will haste us.
POLONIUS  My lord, hes going to his mothers closet Behind the arras Ill convey myself To hear the process, Ill warrant shell tax him home, And, as you said, and wisely was it said, Tis meet that some more audience than a mother, Since nature makes them partial, should oerhear The speech, of vantage. Fare you well, my liege Ill call upon you ere you go to bed And tell you what I know.
HAMLET  Now might I do it pat, now he is praying, And now Ill dot and so he goes to heaven, And so am I revengd. That would be scannd A villain kills my father, and for that, I, his sole son, do this same villain send To heaven. Why, this is hire and salary, not revenge. He took my father grossly, full of bread, With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May, And how his audit stands who knows save heaven? But in our circumstance and course of thought Tis heavy with him. And am I then revengd, To take him in the purging of his soul, When he is fit and seasond for his passage? No. Up, sword, and know thou a more horrid hent, When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage, Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed, At gaming, swearing, or about some act That has no relish of salvation int, Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven, And that his soul may be as damnd and black As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.
KING  My words fly up, my thoughts remain below Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
POLONIUS  He will come straight. Look you lay home to him, Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with, And that your Grace hath screend and stood between Much heat and him. Ill silence me een here. Pray you, be round with him.
QUEEN  Ill warrant you, Fear me not. Withdraw, I hear him coming.
HAMLET  Now, mother, whats the matter?
QUEEN  Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.
HAMLET  Mother, you have my father much offended.
QUEEN  Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.
HAMLET  Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.
QUEEN  Why, how now, Hamlet
HAMLET  Whats the matter now?
QUEEN  Have you forgot me?
HAMLET  No, by the rood, not so You are the queen, your husbands brothers wife, And,—would it were not so—you are my mother.
QUEEN  Nay then, Ill set those to you that can speak.
HAMLET  Come, come, and sit you down, you shall not budge, You go not, till I set you up a glass Where you may see the inmost part of you.
QUEEN  What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murder me? Help, help, ho
QUEEN  O me what hast thou done?
HAMLET  Nay, I know not is it the king?
QUEEN  O what a rash and bloody deed is this
HAMLET  A bloody deed almost as bad, good mother, As kill a king, and marry with his brother.
QUEEN  As kill a king
QUEEN  What have I done that thou darst wag thy tongue In noise so rude against me?
HAMLET  Such an act That blurs the grace and blush of modesty, Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose From the fair forehead of an innocent love And sets a blister there, makes marriage vows As false as dicers oaths, O such a deed As from the body of contraction plucks The very soul, and sweet religion makes A rhapsody of words, heavens face doth glow, Yea, this solidity and compound mass, With tristful visage, as against the doom, Is thought-sick at the act.
QUEEN  Ay me what act, That roars so loud and thunders in the index?
HAMLET  Look here, upon this picture, and on this, The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. See, what a grace was seated on this brow, Hyperions curls, the front of Jove himself, An eye like Mars, to threaten and command, A station like the herald Mercury New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill, A combination and a form indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man. This was your husband look you now, what follows. Here is your husband, like a mildewd ear, Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes? Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, And batten on this moor? Ha have you eyes? You cannot call it love, for at your age The hey-day in the blood is tame, its humble, And waits upon the judgment, and what judgment Would step from this to this? Sense, sure, you have, Else could you not have motion, but sure, that sense Is apoplexd, for madness would not err, Nor sense to ecstasy was neer so thralld But it reservd some quantity of choice, To serve in such a difference. What devil was t That thus hath comend you at hoodman-blind? Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight, Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all, Or but a sickly part of one true sense Could not so mope. O shame where is thy blush? Rebellious hell, If thou canst mutine in a matrons bones, To flaming youth let virtue be as wax, And melt in her own fire proclaim no shame When the compulsive ardour gives the charge, Since first itself as actively doth burn, And reason panders will.
QUEEN  O Hamlet speak no more, Thou turnst mine eyes into my very soul, And there I see such black and grained spots As will not leave their tinct.
HAMLET  Nay, but to live In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed, Stewd in corruption, honeying and making love Over the nasty sty,—
QUEEN  O speak to me no more, These words like daggers enter in mine ears, No more, sweet Hamlet
HAMLET  A murderer, and a villain, A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe Of your precedent lord, a vice of kings, A cut-purse of the empire and the rule, That from a shelf the precious diadem stole, And put it in his pocket
QUEEN  No more
QUEEN  Alas hes mad
HAMLET  Do you not come your tardy son to chide, That, lapsd in time and passion, lets go by The important acting of your dread command? O say.
GHOST  Do not forget this visitation Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose. But, look amazement on thy mother sits, O step between her and her fighting soul, Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works Speak to her, Hamlet.
HAMLET  How is it with you, lady?
QUEEN  Alas how ist with you, That you do bend your eye on vacancy And with the incorporal air do hold discourse? Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep, And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm, Your bedded hair, like life in excrements, Starts up and stands an end. O gentle son Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?
HAMLET  On him, on him Look you, how pale he glares His form and cause conjoind, preaching to stones, Would make them capable. Do not look upon me, Lest with this piteous action you convert My stern effects then what I have to do Will want true colour, tears perchance for blood.
QUEEN  To whom do you speak this?
HAMLET  Do you see nothing there?
QUEEN  Nothing at all, yet all that is I see.
HAMLET  Nor did you nothing hear?
QUEEN  No, nothing but ourselves.
HAMLET  Why, look you there look, how it steals away, My father, in his habit as he livd, Look where he goes, even now, out at the portal.
QUEEN  This is the very coinage of your brain This bodiless creation ecstasy Is very cunning in.
HAMLET  Ecstasy My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time, And makes as healthful music. It is not madness That I have utterd bring me to the test, And I the matter will re-word, which madness Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace, Lay not that flattering unction to your soul, That not your trespass but my madness speaks, It will but skin and film the ulcerous place, Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven, Repent whats past, avoid what is to come, And do not spread the compost on the weeds To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue, For in the fatness of these pursy times Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg, Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good.
QUEEN  O Hamlet thou hast cleft my heart in twain.
QUEEN  What shall I do?
HAMLET  Not this, by no means, that I bid you do Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed, Pinch wanton on your cheek, call you his mouse, And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses, Or paddling in your neck with his damnd fingers, Make you to ravel all this matter out, That I essentially am not in madness, But mad in craft. Twere good you let him know, For who thats but a queen, fair, sober, wise, Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib, Such dear concernings hide? who would do so? No, in despite of sense and secrecy, Unpeg the basket on the houses top, Let the birds fly, and, like the famous ape, To try conclusions, in the basket creep, And break your own neck down.
QUEEN  Be thou assurd, if words be made of breath, And breath of life, I have no life to breathe What thou hast said to me.
HAMLET  I must to England, you know that?
QUEEN  Alack I had forgot tis so concluded on.
HAMLET  Theres letters seald, and my two schoolfellows, Whom I will trust as I will adders fangd, They bear the mandate, they must sweep my way, And marshal me to knavery. Let it work, For tis the sport to have the enginer Hoist with his own petar and it shall go hard But I will delve one yard below their mines, And blow them at the moon. O tis most sweet, When in one line two crafts directly meet. This man shall set me packing, Ill lug the guts into the neighbour room. Mother, good-night. Indeed this counsellor Is now most still, most secret, and most grave, Who was in life a foolish prating knave. Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you. Good-night, mother.
KING  Theres matter in these sighs, these profound heaves You must translate, tis fit we understand them. Where is your son?
KING  What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet?
QUEEN  Mad as the sea and wind, when both contend Which is the mightier. In his lawless fit, Behind the arras hearing something stir, Whips out his rapier, cries, A rat a rat And, in his brainish apprehension, kills The unseen good old man.
KING  O heavy deed It had been so with us had we been there. His liberty is full of threats to all, To you yourself, to us, to every one. Alas how shall this bloody deed be answerd? It will be laid to us, whose providence Should have kept short, restraind, and out of haunt, This mad young man but so much was our love, We would not understand what was most fit, But, like the owner of a foul disease, To keep it from divulging, let it feed Even on the pith of life. Where is he gone?
QUEEN  To draw apart the body he hath killd, Oer whom his very madness, like some ore Among a mineral of metals base, Shows itself pure he weeps for what is done.
HAMLET  Safely stowed.
HAMLET  What noise? who calls on Hamlet? O here they come.
ROSENCRANTZ  What have you done, my lord, with the dead body?
HAMLET  Compounded it with dust, whereto tis kin.
ROSENCRANTZ  Tell us where tis, that we may take it thence And bear it to the chapel.
HAMLET  Do not believe it.
ROSENCRANTZ  Believe what?
HAMLET  That I can keep your counsel and not mine own. Besides, to be demanded of a sponge what replication should be made by the son of a king?
ROSENCRANTZ  Take you me for a sponge, my lord?
HAMLET  Ay, sir, that soaks up the kings countenance, his rewards, his authorities. But such officers do the king best service in the end he keeps them, like an ape, in the corner of his jaw, first mouthed, to be last swallowed when he needs what you have gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, sponge, you shall be dry again.
ROSENCRANTZ  I understand you not, my lord.
HAMLET  I am glad of it a knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear.
ROSENCRANTZ  My lord, you must tell us where the body is, and go with us to the king.
HAMLET  The body is with the king, but the king is not with the body. The king is a thing—
GUILDENSTERN  A thing, my lord
HAMLET  Of nothing bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after.
KING  I have sent to seek him, and to find the body. How dangerous is it that this man goes loose Yet must not we put the strong law on him Hes lovd of the distracted multitude, Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes, And where tis so, the offenders scourge is weighd, But never the offence. To bear all smooth and even, This sudden sending him away must seem Deliberate pause diseases desperate grown By desperate appliance are relievd, Or not at all.
ROSENCRANTZ  Where the dead body is bestowd, my lord, We cannot get from him.
KING  But where is he?
ROSENCRANTZ  Without, my lord, guarded, to know your pleasure.
KING  Bring him before us.
ROSENCRANTZ  Ho, Guildenstern bring in my lord.
KING  Now, Hamlet, wheres Polonius?
HAMLET  At supper.
KING  At supper Where?
HAMLET  Not where he eats, but where he is eaten a certain convocation of politic worms are een at him. Your worm is your only emperor for diet we fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for maggots your fat king and your lean beggar is but variable service, two dishes, but to one table thats the end.
KING  Alas, alas
HAMLET  A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm.
KING  What dost thou mean by this?
HAMLET  Nothing, but to show you how a king may go a progress through the guts of a beggar.
KING  Where is Polonius?
HAMLET  In heaven, send thither to see if your messenger find him not there, seek him i the other place yourself. But, indeed, if you find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go up the stairs into the lobby.
HAMLET  He will stay till you come.
KING  Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety, Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve For that which thou hast done, must send thee hence With fiery quickness therefore prepare thyself, The bark is ready, and the wind at help, The associates tend, and every thing is bent For England.
HAMLET  For England
KING  Ay, Hamlet.
HAMLET  Good.
KING  So is it, if thou knewst our purposes.
HAMLET  I see a cherub that sees them. But, come, for England Farewell, dear mother.
KING  Thy loving father, Hamlet.
HAMLET  My mother father and mother is man and wife, man and wife is one flesh, and so, my mother. Come, for England
KING  Follow him at foot, tempt him with speed aboard Delay it not, Ill have him hence to-night. Away for every thing is seald and done That else leans on the affair pray you, make haste. And, England, if my love thou holdst at aught,— As my great power thereof may give thee sense, Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red After the Danish sword, and thy free awe Pays homage to us,—thou mayst not coldly set Our sovereign process, which imports at full, By letters conjuring to that effect, The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England, For like the hectic in my blood he rages, And thou must cure me. Till I know tis done, Howeer my haps, my joys were neer begun.
FORTINBRAS  Go, captain, from me greet the Danish king, Tell him that, by his licence, Fortinbras Claims the conveyance of a promisd march Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous. If that his majesty would aught with us, We shall express our duty in his eye, And let him know so.
CAPTAIN  I will do t, my lord.
FORTINBRAS  Go softly on.
HAMLET  Good sir, whose powers are these?
CAPTAIN  They are of Norway, sir.
HAMLET  How purposd, sir, I pray you?
CAPTAIN  Against some part of Poland.
HAMLET  Who commands them, sir?
CAPTAIN  The nephew to old Norway, Fortinbras.
HAMLET  Goes it against the main of Poland, sir, Or for some frontier?
CAPTAIN  Truly to speak, and with no addition, We go to gain a little patch of ground That hath in it no profit but the name. To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it, Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee.
HAMLET  Why, then the Polack never will defend it.
CAPTAIN  Yes, tis already garrisond.
HAMLET  Two thousand souls and twenty thousand ducats Will not debate the question of this straw This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace, That inward breaks, and shows no cause without Why the man dies. I humbly thank you, sir.
CAPTAIN  God be wi you, sir.
ROSENCRANTZ  Will t please you go, my lord?
HAMLET  Ill be with you straight. Go a little before. How all occasions do inform against me, And spur my dull revenge What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure he that made us with such large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and god-like reason To fust in us unusd. Now, wher it be Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple Of thinking too precisely on the event, A thought, which, quarterd, hath but one part wisdom, And ever three parts coward, I do not know Why yet I live to say This things to do, Sith I have cause and will and strength and means To do t. Examples gross as earth exhort me Witness this army of such mass and charge Led by a delicate and tender prince, Whose spirit with divine ambition puffd Makes mouths at the invisible event, Exposing what is mortal and unsure To all that fortune, death and danger dare, Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great Is not to stir without great argument, But greatly to find quarrel in a straw When honours at the stake. How stand I then, That have a father killd, a mother staind, Excitements of my reason and my blood, And let all sleep, while, to my shame, I see The imminent death of twenty thousand men, That, for a fantasy and trick of fame, Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause, Which is not tomb enough and continent To hide the slaim? O from this time forth, My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth
QUEEN  I will not speak with her.
GENTLEMAN  She is importunate, indeed distract Her mood will needs be pitied.
QUEEN  What would she have?
GENTLEMAN  She speaks much of her father, says she hears Theres tricks i the world, and hems, and beats her heart, Spurns enviously at straws, speaks things in doubt, That carry but half sense her speech is nothing, Yet the unshaped use of it doth move The hearers to collection, they aim at it, And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts, Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures yield them, Indeed would make one think there might be thought, Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.
HORATIO  Twere good she were spoken with, for she may strew Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.
QUEEN  Let her come in. To my sick soul, as sins true nature is, Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
OPHELIA  Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?
QUEEN  How now, Ophelia
OPHELIA  How should I your true love know From another one? By his cockle hat and staff, And his sandal shoon.
QUEEN  Alas sweet lady, what imports this song?
OPHELIA  Say you? nay, pray you, mark. He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone, At his head a grass-green turf, At his heals a stone. O, ho
QUEEN  Nay, but Ophelia,—
OPHELIA  Pray you, mark. White his shroud as the mountain snow,—
QUEEN  Alas look here, my lord.
OPHELIA  Larded with sweet flowers, Which bewept to the grave did go With true-love showers.
KING  How do you, pretty lady?
OPHELIA  Well, God ild you They say the owl was a bakers daughter. Lord we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your table
KING  Conceit upon her father.
OPHELIA  Pray you, lets have no words of this, but when they ask you what it means, say you this To-morrow is Saint Valentines day, All in the morning betime, And I a maid at your window, To be your Valentine Then up he rose, and donnd his clothes, And duppd the chamber door, Let in the maid, that out a maid Never departed more.
KING  Pretty Ophelia
OPHELIA  Indeed, la without an oath, Ill make an end on t By Gis and by Saint Charity, Alack, and fie for shame Young men will dot, if they come tot, By Cock they are to blame. Quoth she, before you tumbled me, You promisd me to wed So would I ha done, by yonder sun, An thou hadst not come to my bed.
KING  How long hath she been thus?
OPHELIA  I hope all will be well. We must be patient but I cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay him i the cold ground. My brother shall know of it and so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my coach Good-night, ladies, good-night, sweet ladies, good-night, good-night.
KING  Follow her close, give her good watch, I pray you. O this is the poison of deep grief, it springs All from her fathers death. O Gertrude, Gertrude When sorrows come, they come not single spies, But in battalions. First, her father slain, Next, your son gone, but he most violent author Of his own just remove the people muddied, Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers, For good Polonius death, and we have done but greenly, In hugger-mugger to inter him poor Ophelia Divided from herself and her fair judgment, Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts Last, and as much containing as all these, Her brother is in secret come from France, Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds, And wants not buzzers to infect his ear With pestilent speeches of his fathers death, Wherein necessity, of matter beggard, Will nothing stick our person to arraign In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude this, Like to a murdering-piece, in many places Gives me superfluous death.
QUEEN  Alack what noise is this?
KING  Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door. What is the matter?
GENTLEMAN  Save yourself, my lord, The ocean, overpeering of his list, Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste Than young Laertes, in a riotous head, Oerbears your officers. The rabble call him lord, And, as the world were now but to begin, Antiquity forgot, custom not known, The ratifiers and props of every word, They cry, Choose we, Laertes shall be king Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds, Laertes shall be king, Laertes king
QUEEN  How cheerfully on the false trail they cry O this is counter, you false Danish dogs
LAERTES  Where is the king? Sirs, stand you all without.
DANES  No, lets come in.
LAERTES  I pray you, give me leave.
DANES  We will, we will.
LAERTES  I thank you keep the door. O thou vile king Give me my father.
QUEEN  Calmly, good Laertes.
LAERTES  That drop of blood thats calm proclaims me bastard, Cries cuckold to my father, brands the harlot Even here, between the chaste unsmirched brow Of my true mother.
KING  What is the cause, Laertes, That thy rebellion looks so giant-like? Let him go, Gertrude, do not fear our person Theres such divinity doth hedge a king, That treason can but peep to what it would, Acts little of his will. Tell me, Laertes, Why thou art thus incensd. Let him go, Gertrude. Speak, man.
LAERTES  Where is my father?
KING  Dead.
QUEEN  But not by him.
KING  Let him demand his fill.
LAERTES  How came he dead? Ill not be juggled with. To hell, allegiance vows, to the blackest devil Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit I dare damnation. To this point I stand, That both the worlds I give to negligence, Let come what comes, only Ill be revengd Most throughly for my father.
KING  Who shall stay you?
LAERTES  My will, not all the world And, for my means, Ill husband them so well, They shall go far with little.
KING  Good Laertes, If you desire to know the certainty Of your dear fathers death, ist writ in your revenge, That, swoopstake, you will draw both friend and foe, Winner and loser?
LAERTES  None but his enemies.
KING  Will you know them then?
LAERTES  To his good friends thus wide Ill ope my arms, And like the kind life-rendering pelican, Repast them with my blood.
KING  Why, now you speak Like a good child and a true gentleman. That I am guiltless of your fathers death, And am most sensibly in grief for it, It shall as level to your judgment pierce As day does to your eye.
OPHELIA  They bore him barefacd on the bier, Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny, And in his grave raind many a tear,— Fare you well, my dove
LAERTES  Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge, It could not move thus.
OPHELIA  You must sing, a-down a-down, And you call him a-down-a. O how the wheel becomes it It is the false steward that stole his masters daughter.
LAERTES  This nothings more than matter.
OPHELIA  Theres rosemary, thats for remembrance, brance, pray, love, remember and there is pansies, thats for thoughts.
LAERTES  A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted.
OPHELIA  Theres fennel for you, and columbines, theres rue for you, and heres some for me, we may call it herb of grace o Sundays. O you must wear your rue with a difference. Theres a daisy, I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died. They say he made a good end,— For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.
LAERTES  Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself, She turns to favour and to prettiness.
OPHELIA  And will he not come again? And will he not come again? No, no, he is dead, Go to thy death-bed, He never will come again. His beard was as white as snow All fiaxen was his poll, He is gone, he is gone, And we cast away moan God ha mercy on his soul And of all Christian souls I pray God. God be wi ye
LAERTES  Do you see this, O God?
KING  Laertes, I must common with your grief, Or you deny me right. Go but apart, Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will, And they shall hear and judge twixt you and me. If by direct or by collateral hand They find us touchd, we will our kingdom give, Our crown, our life, and all that we call ours, To you in satisfaction, but if not, Be you content to lend your patience to us, And we shall jointly labour with your soul To give it due content.
LAERTES  Let this be so His means of death, his obscure burial, No trophy, sword, nor hatchment oer his bones, No noble rite nor formal ostentation, Cry to be heard, as twere from heaven to earth, That I must call t in question.
KING  So you shall, And where the offence is let the great axe fall. I pray you go with me.
HORATIO  What are they that would speak with me?
SERVANT  Sailors, sir they say, they have letters for you.
HORATIO  Let them come in. I do not know from what part of the world I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet.
SAILOR1  God bless you, sir.
HORATIO  Let him bless thee too.
SAILOR2  He shall, sir, ant please him. Theres a letter for you, sir,—it comes from the ambassador that was bound for England,—if your name be Horatio, as I am let to know it is.
HAMLET. Come, I will give you way for these your letters, And do t the speedier, that you may direct me To him from whom you brought them.
KING  Now must your conscience my acquittance seal, And you must put me in your heart for friend, Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear, That he which hath your noble father slain Pursud my life.
LAERTES  It well appears but tell me Why you proceeded not against these feats, So crimeful and so capital in nature, As by your safety, wisdom, all things else, You mainly were stirrd up.
KING  O for two special reasons, Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinewd, But yet to me they are strong. The queen his mother Lives almost by his looks, and for myself,— My virtue or my plague, be it either which,— Shes so conjunctive to my life and soul, That, as the star moves not but in his sphere, I could not but by her. The other motive, Why to a public count I might not go, Is the great love the general gender bear him, Who, dipping all his faults in their affection, Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone, Convert his gyves to graces, so that my arrows, Too slightly timberd for so loud a wind, Would have reverted to my bow again, And not where I had aimd them.
LAERTES  And so have I a noble father lost, A sister driven into desperate terms, Whose worth, if praises may go back again, Stood challenger on mount of all the age For her perfections. But my revenge will come.
KING  Break not your sleeps for that, you must not think That we are made of stuff so flat and dull That we can let our beard be shook with danger And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more, I lovd your father, and we love ourself, And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine,—
MESSENGER  Letters, my lord, from Hamlet This to your majesty, this to the queen.
KING  From Hamlet who brought them?
MESSENGER  Sailors, my lord, they say, I saw them not They were given me by Claudio, he receivd them Of him that brought them.
HAMLET. What should this mean? Are all the rest come back? Or is it some abuse and no such thing?
LAERTES  Know you the hand?
KING  Tis Hamlets character. Naked, And in a postscript here, he says, alone. Can you advise me?
LAERTES  Im lost in it, my lord. But let him come It warms the very sickness in my heart, That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, Thus diddest thou.
KING  If it be so, Laertes, As how should it be so? how otherwise? Will you be ruld by me?
LAERTES  Ay, my lord, So you will not oer-rule me to a peace.
KING  To thine own peace. If he be now returnd, As checking at his voyage, and that he means No more to undertake it, I will work him To an exploit, now ripe in my device, Under the which he shall not choose but fall, And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe, But even his mother shall uncharge the practice And call it accident.
LAERTES  My lord, I will be ruld, The rather, if you could devise it so That I might be the organ.
KING  It falls right. You have been talkd of since your travel much, And that in Hamlets hearing, for a quality Wherein, they say, you shine, your sum of parts Did not together pluck such envy from him As did that one, and that, in my regard, Of the unworthiest siege.
LAERTES  What part is that, my lord?
KING  A very riband in the cap of youth, Yet needful too, for youth no less becomes The light and careless livery that it wears Than settled age his sables and his weeds, Importing health and graveness. Two months since Here was a gentleman of Normandy Ive seen myself, and servd against, the French, And they can well on horseback, but this gallant Had witchcraft in t, he grew unto his seat, And to such wondrous doing brought his horse, As he had been incorpsd and demi-naturd With the brave beast, so far he toppd my thought, That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks, Come short of what he did.
LAERTES  A Norman was t?
KING  A Norman.
LAERTES  Upon my life, Lamord.
KING  The very same.
LAERTES  I know him well, he is the brooch indeed And gem of all the nation.
KING  He made confession of you, And gave you such a masterly report For art and exercise in your defence, And for your rapier most especially, That he cried out, twould be a sight indeed If one could match you, the scrimers of their nation, He swore, had neither motion, guard, nor eye, If you opposd them. Sir, this report of his Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy That he could nothing do but wish and beg Your sudden coming oer, to play with him. Now, out of this,—
LAERTES  What out of this, my lord?
KING  Laertes, was your father dear to you? Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, A face without a heart?
LAERTES  Why ask you this?
KING  Not that I think you did not love your father, But that I know love is begun by time, And that I see, in passages of proof, Time qualifies the spark and fire of it. There lives within the very flame of love A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it, And nothing is at a like goodness still, For goodness, growing to a plurisy, Dies in his own too-much. That we would do, We should do when we would, for this would changes, And hath abatements and delays as many As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents, And then this should is like a spendthrift sigh, That hurts by easing. But, to the quick o the ulcer, Hamlet comes back, what would you undertake To show yourself your fathers son in deed More than in words?
LAERTES  To cut his throat i the church.
KING  No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize, Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes, Will you do this, keep close within your chamber. Hamlet returnd shall know you are come home, Well put on those shall praise your excellence, And set a double varnish on the fame The Frenchman gave you, bring you, in fine, together, And wager on your heads he, being remise, Most generous and free from all contriving, Will not peruse the foils, so that, with ease Or with a little shuffling, you may choose A sword unbated, and, in a pass of practice Requite him for your father.
LAERTES  I will do t, And, for that purpose, Ill anoint my sword. I bought an unction of a mountebank, So mortal that, but dip a knife in it, Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare, Collected from all simples that have virtue Under the moon, can save the thing from death That is but scratchd withal, Ill touch my point With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly, It may be death.
KING  Lets further think of this, Weigh what convenience both of time and means May fit us to our shape. If this should fail, And that our drift look through our bad performance Twere better not assayd, therefore this project Should have a back or second, that might hold, If this should blast in proof. Soft let me see, Well make a solemn wager on your cunnings I hat When in your motion you are hot and dry,— As make your bouts more violent to that end,— And that he calls for drink, Ill have prepard him A chalice for the nonce, whereon but sipping, If he by chance escape your venomd stuck, Our purpose may hold there. But stay what noise?
QUEEN  One woe doth tread upon anothers heel, So fast they follow your sisters drownd, Laertes.
LAERTES  Drownd O, where?
QUEEN  There is a willow grows aslant a brook, That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream, There with fantastic garlands did she come, Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples, That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do dead mens fingers call them There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke, When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide, And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up, Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes, As one incapable of her own distress, Or like a creature native and indud Unto that element, but long it could not be Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, Pulld the poor wretch from her melodious lay To muddy death.
LAERTES  Alas then, she is drownd?
QUEEN  Drownd, drownd.
LAERTES  Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelis, And therefore I forbid my tears, but yet It is our trick, nature her custom holds, Let shame say what it will, when these are gone The woman will be out. Adieu, my lord I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze, But that this folly douts it.
KING  Lets follow, Gertrude. How much I had to do to calm his rage Now fear I this will give it start again, Therefore lets follow.
CLOWN1  Is she to be buried in Christian burial that wilfully seeks her own salvation?
CLOWN2  I tell thee she is, and therefore make her grave straight the crowner hath sat on her, and finds it Christian burial.
CLOWN1  How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her own defence?
CLOWN2  Why, tis found so.
CLOWN1  It must be se offendendo, it cannot be else. For here lies the point if I drown myself wittingly it argues an act, and an act hath three branches, it is, to act, to do, and to perform argal, she drowned herself wittingly.
CLOWN2  Nay, but hear you, goodman delver,—
CLOWN1  Give me leave. Here lies the water, good here stands the man, good if the man go to this water, and drown himself, it is, will he, nill he, he goes, mark you that? but if the water come to him, and drown him, he drowns not himself argal, he that is not guilty of his own death shortens not his own life.
CLOWN2  But is this law?
CLOWN1  Ay, marry, is t, crowners quest law.
CLOWN2  Will you ha the truth on t? If this had not been a gentlewoman she should have been buried out o Christian burial.
CLOWN1  Why, there thou sayest, and the more pity that great folk should have countenance in this world to drown or hang themselves more than their even Christian. Come, my spade. There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers, they hold up Adams profession.
CLOWN2  Was he a gentleman?
CLOWN1  A was the first that ever bore arms.
CLOWN2  Why, he had none.
CLOWN1  What art a heathen? How dost thou understand the Scripture? The Scripture says, Adam digged, could be dig without arms? Ill put another question to thee, if thou answerest me not to the purpose, confess thyself—
CLOWN2  Go to.
CLOWN1  What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter?
CLOWN2  The gallows-maker, for that frame outlives a thousand tenants.
CLOWN1  I like thy wit well, in good faith, the gallows does well, but how does it well? it does well to those that do ill, now thou dost ill to say the gallows is built stronger than the church argal, the gallows may do well to thee. To t again, come.
CLOWN2  Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or a carpenter?
CLOWN1  Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.
CLOWN2  Marry, now I can tell.
CLOWN1  To t.
CLOWN2  Mass, I cannot tell.
CLOWN1  Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull ass will not mend his pace with beating, and, when you are asked this question next, say, a grave-maker the houses that he makes last till doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan, fetch me a stoup of liquor. First Clown digs, and sings. In youth, when I did love, did love, Methought it was very sweet, To contract, O the time, for-a my behove, O methought there was nothing meet.
HAMLET  Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he sings at grave-making?
HORATIO  Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.
HAMLET  Tis een so, the hand of little employment hath the daintier sense.
CLOWN1  But age, with his stealing steps, Hath clawd me in his clutch, And hath shipped me intil the land, As if I had never been such.
HAMLET  That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once, how the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were Cains jaw-bone, that did the first murder This might be the pate of a politician, which this ass now oer-offices, one that would circumvent God, might it not?
HORATIO  It might, my lord.
HAMLET  Or of a courtier, which could say, Good morrow, sweet lord How dost thou, good lord? This might be my Lord Such-a-one, that praised my Lord Such-a-ones horse, when he meant to beg it, might it not?
HORATIO  Ay, my lord.
HAMLET  Why, een so, and now my Lady Worms, chapless, and knocked about the mazzard with a sextons spade. Heres fine revolution, an we had the trick to see t. Did these bones cost no more the breeding but to play at loggats with em? mine ache to think on t.
CLOWN1  A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade, For and a shrouding sheet, O a pit of clay for to be made For such a guest is meet.
HAMLET  Theres another, why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, his quillets, his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of his action of battery? Hum This fellow might be in s time a great buyer of land, with his statutes, his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries, is this the fine of his fines, and the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine pate full of fine dirt? will his vouchers vouch him no more of his purchases, and double ones too, than the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? The very conveyance of his lands will hardly lie in this box, and must the inheritor himself have no more, ha?
HORATIO  Not a jot more, my lord.
HAMLET  Is not parchment made of sheep-skins?
HORATIO  Ay, my lord, and of calf-skins too.
HAMLET  They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow. Whose graves this, sir?
CLOWN1  Mine, sir, O a pit of clay for to be made For such a guest is meet.
HAMLET  I think it be thine, indeed, for thou liest in t.
CLOWN1  You lie out on t, sir, and therefore it is not yours, for my part, I do not lie in t, and yet it is mine.
HAMLET  Thou dost lie in t, to be in t and say it is thine tis for the dead, not for the quick, therefore thou liest.
CLOWN1  Tis a quick lie, sir, twill away again, from me to you.
HAMLET  What man dost thou dig it for?
CLOWN1  For no man, sir.
HAMLET  What woman, then?
CLOWN1  For none, neither.
HAMLET  Who is to be buried in t?
CLOWN1  One that was a woman, sir, but, rest her soul, shes dead.
HAMLET  How absolute the knave is we must speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us. By the Lord, Horatio, these three years I have taken note of it, the age is grown so picked that the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe. How long hast thou been a grave-maker?
CLOWN1  Of all the days i the year, I came to t that day that our last King Hamlet overcame Fortinbras.
HAMLET  How long is that since?
CLOWN1  Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that, it was the very day that young Hamlet was born, he that is mad, and sent into England.
HAMLET  Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?
CLOWN1  Why, because he was mad he shall recover his wits there, or, if he do not, tis no great matter there
HAMLET  Why?
CLOWN1  Twill not be seen in him there, there the men are as mad as he.
HAMLET  How came he mad?
CLOWN1  Very strangely, they say.
HAMLET  How strangely?
CLOWN1  Faith, een with losing his wits.
HAMLET  Upon what ground?
CLOWN1  Why, here in Denmark, I have been sexton here, man and boy, thirty years.
HAMLET  How long will a man lie i the earth ere he rot?
CLOWN1  Faith, if he be not rotten before he die,—as we have many pocky corses now-a-days, that will scarce hold the laying in,—he will last you some eight year or nine year, a tanner will last you nine year.
HAMLET  Why he more than another?
CLOWN1  Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his trade that he will keep out water a great while, and your water is a sore decayer of your whoreson dead body. Heres a skull now, this skull hath lain you i the earth three-and-twenty years.
HAMLET  Whose was it?
CLOWN1  A whoreson mad fellows it was whose do you think it was?
HAMLET  Nay, I know not.
CLOWN1  A pestilence on him for a mad rogue a poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was Yoricks skull, the kings jester.
HAMLET  This
CLOWN1  Een that.
HORATIO  Whats that, my lord?
HAMLET  Dost thou think Alexander looked o this fashion i the earth?
HORATIO  Een so.
HAMLET  And smelt so? pah
HORATIO  Een so, my lord.
HAMLET  To what base uses we may return, Horatio Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bung-hole?
HORATIO  Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so.
LAERTES  What ceremony else?
HAMLET  That is Laertes, A very noble youth mark.
LAERTES  What ceremony else?
PRIEST1  Her obsequies have been as far enlargd As we have warrantise her death was doubtful, And, but that great command oersways the order, She should in ground unsanctified have lodgd Till the last trumpet, for charitable prayers, Shards, flints, and pebbles should be thrown on her, Yet here she is allowd her virgin crants, Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home Of bell and burial.
LAERTES  Must there no more be done?
PRIEST1  No more be done We should profane the service of the dead, To sing a requiem, and such rest to her As to peace-parted souls.
LAERTES  Lay her i the earth, And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring I tell thee, churlish priest, A ministering angel shall my sister be, When thou liest howling.
HAMLET  What the fair Ophelia?
Advancing.  Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand Like wonder-wounded hearers? this is I, Hamlet the Dane.
LAERTES  The devil take thy soul
HAMLET  Thou prayst not well. I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat, For though I am not splenetive and rash Yet have I in me something dangerous, Which let thy wisdom fear. Away thy hand
KING  Pluck them asunder.
QUEEN  Hamlet Hamlet
ALL  Gentlemen,—
HORATIO  Good my lord, be quiet.
HAMLET  Why, I will fight with him upon this theme Until my eyelids will no longer wag.
QUEEN  O my son what theme?
HAMLET  I lovd Ophelia forty thousand brothers Could not, with all their quantity of love, Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?
KING  O he is mad, Laertes.
QUEEN  For love of God, forbear him.
HAMLET  Swounds, show me what thoult do Woot weep? woot fight? woot fast? woot tear thyself? Woot drink up eisel? eat a crocodile? Ill dot. Dost thou come here to whine? To outface me with leaping in her grave? Be buried quick with her, and so will I And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw Millions of acres on us, till our ground, Singeing his pate against the burning zone, Make Ossa like a wart Nay, an thoult mouth, Ill rant as well as thou.
QUEEN  This is mere madness And thus a while the fit will work on him, Anon, as patient as the female dove, When that her golden couplets are disclosd, His silence will sit drooping.
HAMLET  Hear you, sir, What is the reason that you use me thus? I lovd you ever but it is no matter, Let Hercules himself do what he may, The cat will mew and dog will have his day.
HAMLET  So much for this, sir now shall you see the other, You do remember all the circumstance?
HORATIO  Remember it, my lord?
HAMLET  Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting That would not let me sleep, methought I lay Worse than the mutines in the bilboes. Rashly,— And praisd be rashness for it, let us know, Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well When our deep plots do pall, and that should teach us Theres a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.
HORATIO  That is most certain.
HAMLET  Up from my cabin, My sea-gown scarfd about me, in the dark Gropd I to find out them, had my desire, Fingerd their packet, and in fine withdrew To mine own room again, making so bold— My fears forgetting manners—to unseal Their grand commission, where I found, Horatio, O royal knavery an exact command, Larded with many several sorts of reasons Importing Denmarks health, and Englands too, With, ho such bugs and goblins in my life, That, on the supervise, no leisure bated, No, not to stay the grinding of the axe, My head should be struck off.
HORATIO  Is t possible?
HAMLET  Heres the commission read it at more leisure. But wilt thou hear me how I did proceed?
HORATIO  I beseech you.
HAMLET  Being thus be-netted round with villanies,— Ere I could make a prologue to my brains They had begun the play,—I sat me down, Devisd a new commission, wrote it fair, I once did hold it, as our statists do, A baseness to write fair, and labourd much How to forget that learning, but, sir, now It did me yeomans service. Wilt thou know The effect of what I wrote?
HORATIO  Ay, good my lord.
HAMLET  An earnest conjuration from the king, As England was his faithful tributary, As love between them like the palm should flourish, As peace should still her wheaten garland wear, And stand a comma tween their amities, And many such-like Ases of great charge, That, on the view and knowing of these contents, Without debatement further, more or less, He should the bearers put to sudden death, Not shriving-time allowd.
HORATIO  How was this seald?
HAMLET  Why, even in that was heaven ordinant. I had my fathers signet in my purse, Which was the model of that Danish seal, Folded the writ up in form of the other, Subscribd it, gavet th impression, placd it safely, The changeling never known. Now, the next day Was our sea-fight, and what to this was sequent Thou knowst already.
HORATIO  So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to t.
HAMLET  Why, man, they did make love to this employment, They are not near my conscience, their defeat Does by their own insinuation grow. Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes Between the pass and fell-incensed points Of mighty opposites.
HORATIO  Why, what a king is this
HAMLET  Does it not, thinkst thee, stand me now upon— He that hath killd my king and whord my mother, Poppd in between the election and my hopes, Thrown out his angle for my proper life, And with such cozenage—is t not perfect conscience To quit him with this arm? and is t not to be damnd To let this canker of our nature come In further evil?
HORATIO  It must be shortly known to him from England What is the issue of the business there.
HAMLET  It will be short the interim is mine, And a mans lifes no more than to say One. But I am very sorry, good Horatio, That to Laertes I forgot myself, For, by the image of my cause, I see The portraiture of his Ill count his favours But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me Into a towering passion.
HORATIO  Peace who comes here?
OSRIC  Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark.
OSRIC  Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I should impart a thing to you from his majesty.
HAMLET  I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of spirit. Your bonnet to his right use, tis for the head.
OSRIC  I thank your lordship, tis very hot.
HAMLET  No, believe me, tis very cold, the wind is northerly.
OSRIC  It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed.
HAMLET  But yet methinks it is very sultry and hot for my complexion.
OSRIC  Exceedingly, my lord, it is very sultry, as twere, I cannot tell how. But, my lord, his majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a great wager on your head. Sir, this is the matter,—
HAMLET  I beseech you, remember—
OSRIC  Nay, good my lord, for mine ease, in good faith. Sir, here is newly come to court Laertes, believe me, an absolute gentleman, full of most excellent differences, of very soft society and great showing, indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the card or calendar of gentry, for you shall find in him the continent of what part a gentleman would see.
HAMLET  Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you, though, I know, to divide him inventorially would dizzy the arithmetic of memory, and yet but yaw neither, in respect of his quick sail. But, in the verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of great article, and his infusion of such dearth and rareness, as, to make true diction of him, his semblable is his mirror, and who else would trace him, his umbrage, nothing more.
OSRIC  Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him.
HAMLET  The concernancy, sir? why do we wrap the gentleman in our more rawer breath?
OSRIC  Sir?
HORATIO  Is t not possible to understand in another tongue? You will do t, sir, really.
HAMLET  What imports the nomination of this gentleman?
OSRIC  Of Laertes?
HORATIO  His purse is empty already, all s golden words are spent.
HAMLET  Of him, sir.
OSRIC  I know you are not ignorant—
HAMLET  I would you did, sir, in faith, if you did, it would not much approve me. Well, sir.
OSRIC  You are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is—
HAMLET  I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with him in excellence, but, to know a man well, were to know himself.
OSRIC  I mean, sir, for his weapon, but in the imputation laid on him by them, in his meed hes unfellowed.
HAMLET  Whats his weapon?
OSRIC  Rapier and dagger.
HAMLET  Thats two of his weapons, but, well.
OSRIC  The king, sir, hath wagered with him six Barbary horses, against the which he has imponed, as I take it, six French rapiers and poniards, with their assigns, as girdle, hangers, and so three of the carriages, in faith, are very dear to fancy, very responsive to the hilts, most delicate carriages, and of very liberal conceit.
HAMLET  What call you the carriages?
HORATIO  I knew you must be edified by the margent, ere you had done.
OSRIC  The carriages, sir, are the hangers.
HAMLET  The phrase would be more german to the matter, if we could carry cannon by our sides, I would it might be hangers till then. But, on, six Barbary horses against six French swords, their assigns, and three liberal-conceited carriages, thats the French bet against the Danish. Why is this imponed, as you call it?
OSRIC  The king, sir, hath laid, that in a dozen passes between yourself and him, he shall not exceed you three hits, he hath laid on twelve for nine, and it would come to immediate trial, if your lordship would vouchsafe the answer.
HAMLET  How if I answer no?
OSRIC  I mean, my lord, the opposition of your person in trial.
HAMLET  Sir, I will walk here in the hall, if it please his majesty, tis the breathing time of day with me, let the foils be brought, the gentleman willing, and the king hold his purpose, I will win for him an I can, if not, I will gain nothing but my shame and the odd hits.
OSRIC  Shall I re-deliver you so?
HAMLET  To this effect, sir, after what flourish your nature will.
OSRIC  I commend my duty to your lordship.
HORATIO  This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head.
HAMLET  He did comply with his dug before he sucked it. Thus has he—and many more of the same bevy, that I know the drossy age dotes on—only got the tune of the time and outward habit of encounter, a kind of yesty collection which carries them through and through the most fond and winnowed opinions, and do but blow them to their trial, the bubbles are out.
LORD  My lord, his majesty commended him to you by young Osric, who brings back to him, that you attend him in the hall, he sends to know if your pleasure hold to play with Laertes, or that you will take longer time.
HAMLET  I am constant to my purposes, they follow the kings pleasure if his fitness speaks, mine is ready, now, or whensoever, provided I be so able as now.
LORD  The king, and queen, and all are coming down.
HAMLET  In happy time.
LORD  The queen desires you to use some gentle entertainment to Laertes before you fall to play.
HAMLET  She well instructs me.
HORATIO  You will lose this wager, my lord.
HAMLET  I do not think so, since he went into France, I have been in continual practice, I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all s here about my heart, but it is no matter.
HORATIO  Nay, good my lord,—
HAMLET  It is but foolery, but it is such a kind of gain-giving as would perhaps trouble a woman.
HORATIO  If your mind dislike any thing, obey it, I will forestal their repair hither, and say you are not fit.
HAMLET  Not a whit, we defy augury, theres a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, tis not to come, if it be not to come, it will be now, if it be not now, yet it will come the readiness is all. Since no man has aught of what he leaves, what is t to leave betimes? Let be.
KING  Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me.
HAMLET  Give me your pardon, sir, Ive done you wrong, But pardon t, as you are a gentleman. This presence knows, And you must needs have heard, how I am punishd With sore distraction. What I have done, That might your nature, honour and exception Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness. Wast Hamlet wrongd Laertes? Never Hamlet If Hamlet from himself be taen away, And when hes not himself does wrong Laertes, Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it. Who does it then? His madness. If t be so, Hamlet is of the faction that is wrongd, His madness is poor Hamlets enemy. Sir, in this audience, Let my disclaiming from a purposd evil Free me so far in your most generous thoughts, That I have shot mine arrow oer the house, And hurt my brother.
LAERTES  I am satisfied in nature, Whose motive, in this case, should stir me most To my revenge, but in my terms of honour I stand aloof, and will no reconcilement, Till by some elder masters, of known honour, I have a voice and precedent of peace, To keep my name ungord. But till that time, I do receive your offerd love like love, And will not wrong it.
HAMLET  I embrace it freely, And will this brothers wager frankly play. Give us the foils. Come on.
LAERTES  Come, one for me.
HAMLET  Ill be your foil, Laertes, in mine ignorance Your skill shall, like a star i the darkest night, Stick fiery off indeed.
LAERTES  You mock me, sir.
HAMLET  No, by this hand.
KING  Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet, You know the wager?
HAMLET  Very well, my lord, Your Grace hath laid the odds o the weaker side.
KING  I do not fear it, I have seen you both, But since he is betterd, we have therefore odds.
LAERTES  This is too heavy, let me see another.
HAMLET  This likes me well. These foils have all a length?
OSRIC  Ay, my good lord.
KING  Set me the stoups of wine upon that table. If Hamlet give the first or second hit, Or quit in answer of the third exchange, Let all the battlements their ordnance fire, The king shall drink to Hamlets better breath, And in the cup an union shall he throw, Richer than that which four successive kings In Denmarks crown have worn. Give me the cups, And let the kettle to the trumpet speak, The trumpet to the cannoneer without, The cannons to the heavens, the heavens to earth, Now the king drinks to Hamlet Come, begin, And you, the judges, bear a wary eye.
HAMLET  Come on, sir.
LAERTES  Come, my lord.
HAMLET  One.
LAERTES  No.
HAMLET  Judgment.
OSRIC  A hit, a very palpable hit.
LAERTES  Well, again.
KING  Stay, give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is thine, Heres to thy health. Give him the cup.
LAERTES  A touch, a touch, I do confess.
KING  Our son shall win.
QUEEN  Hes fat, and scant of breath. Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows, The queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet.
HAMLET  Good madam
KING  Gertrude, do not drink.
QUEEN  I will, my lord, I pray you, pardon me.
HAMLET  I dare not drink yet, madam, by and by.
QUEEN  Come, let me wipe thy face.
LAERTES  My lord, Ill hit him now.
KING  I do not think t
HAMLET  Come, for the third, Laertes. You but dally, I pray you, pass with your best violence. I am afeard you make a wanton of me.
LAERTES  Say you so? come on.
OSRIC  Nothing, neither way.
LAERTES  Have at you now.
KING  Part them they are incensd
HAMLET  Nay, come, again.
OSRIC  Look to the queen there, ho
HORATIO  They bleed on both sides. How is it, my lord?
OSRIC  How is it, Laertes?
LAERTES  Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric, I am justly killd with mine own treachery.
HAMLET  How does the queen?
KING  She swounds to see them bleed.
QUEEN  No, no, the drink, the drink,—O my dear Hamlet The drink, the drink, I am poisond.
HAMLET  O villany Ho let the door be lockd Treachery seek it out.
LAERTES  It is here, Hamlet. Hamlet, thou art slain, No medicine in the world can do thee good, In thee there is not half an hour of life, The treacherous instrument is in thy hand, Unbated and envenomd. The foul practice Hath turnd itself on me, lo here I lie, Never to rise again. Thy mothers poisond. I can no more. The king, the kings to blame.
HAMLET  The point envenomd tool—. Then, venom, to thy work.
ALL  Treason treason
KING  O yet defend me, friends, I am but hurt.
HAMLET  Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane, Drink off this potion,—is thy union here? Follow my mother.
LAERTES  He is justly servd, It is a poison temperd by himself. Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet Mine and my fathers death come not upon thee, Nor thine on me
HAMLET  Heaven make thee free of it I follow thee. I am dead, Horatio. Wretched queen, adieu You that look pale and tremble at this chance, That are but mutes or audience to this act, Had I but time,—as this fell sergeant, death, Is strict in his arrest,—O I could tell you— But let it be. Horatio, I am dead, Thou livst, report me and my cause aright To the unsatisfied.
HORATIO  Never believe it, I am more an antique Roman than a Dane Heres yet some liquor left.
OSRIC  Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland, To the ambassadors of England gives This war-like volley.
HAMLET  O I die, Horatio, The potent poison quite oer-crows my spirit I cannot live to hear the news from England, But I do prophesy the election lights On Fortinbras he has my dying voice, So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less, Which have solicited—The rest is silence.
FORTINBRAS  Where is this sight?
HORATIO  What is it ye would see? If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.
FORTINBRAS  This quarry cries on havoc. O proud death What feast is toward in thine eternal cell, That thou so many princes at a shot So bloodily hast struck?
AMBASSADOR1  The sight is dismal, And our affairs from England come too late The ears are senseless that should give us hearing, To tell him his commandment is fulfilld, That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead. Where should we have our thanks?
HORATIO  Not from his mouth, Had it the ability of life to thank you He never gave commandment for their death. But since, so jump upon this bloody question, You from the Polack wars, and you from England, Are here arrivd, give order that these bodies High on a stage be placed to the view, And let me speak to the yet unknowing world How these things came about so shall you hear Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts, Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters, Of deaths put on by cunning and forcd cause, And, in this upshot, purposes mistook Falln on the inventors heads, all this can I Truly deliver.
FORTINBRAS  Let us haste to hear it, And call the noblest to the audience. For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune, I have some rights of memory in this kingdom, Which now to claim my vantage doth invite me.
HORATIO  Of that I shall have also cause to speak, And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more But let this same be presently performd, Even while mens minds are wild, lest more mischance On plots and errors happen.
FORTINBRAS  Let four captains Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage, For he was likely, had he been put on, To have provd most royally and, for his passage, The soldiers music and the rites of war Speak loudly for him. Take up the bodies such a sight as this Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss. Go, bid the soldiers shoot.
FLAVIUS  Hence home, you idle creatures, get you home Is this a holiday? What know you not, Being mechanical, you ought not walk Upon a labouring day without the sign Of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou?
COMMONER1  Why, sir, a carpenter.
MARULLUS  Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on? You, sir, what trade are you?
COMMONER2  Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler.
MARULLUS  But what trade art thou? Answer me directly.
COMMONER2  A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience, which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.
MARULLUS  What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?
COMMONER2  Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you.
MARULLUS  What meanest thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow
COMMONER2  Why, sir, cobble you.
FLAVIUS  Thou art a cobbler, art thou?
COMMONER2  Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl I meddle with no tradesmans matters, nor womens matters, but with awl. I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes, when they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neats leather have gone upon my handiwork.
FLAVIUS  But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?
COMMONER2  Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday to see Cæsar and to rejoice in his triumph.
MARULLUS  Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels? You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft Have you climbd up to walls and battlements, To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops, Your infants in your arms, and there have sat The livelong day, with patient expectation, To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome And when you saw his chariot but appear, Have you not made a universal shout, That Tiber trembled underneath her banks, To hear the replication of your sounds Made in her concave shores? And do you now put on your best attire? And do you now cull out a holiday? And do you now strew flowers in his way, That comes in triumph over Pompeys blood? Be gone Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude.
FLAVIUS  Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault Assemble all the poor men of your sort, Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears Into the channel, till the lowest stream Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. See wher their basest metal be not movd, They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness. Go you down that way towards the Capitol, This way will I. Disrobe the images If you do find them deckd with ceremonies.
MARULLUS  May we do so? You know it is the feast of Lupercal.
FLAVIUS  It is no matter, let no images Be hung with Cæsars trophies. Ill about And drive away the vulgar from the streets So do you too where you perceive them thick. These growing feathers pluckd from Cæsars wing Will make him fly an ordinary pitch, Who else would soar above the view of men And keep us all in servile fearfulness.
CÆSAR  Calphurnia
CASCA  Peace, ho Cæsar speaks.
CÆSAR  Calphurnia
CALPHURNIA  Here, my lord.
CÆSAR  Stand you directly in Antonius way When he doth run his course. Antonius
ANTONIUS  Cæsar, my lord.
CÆSAR  Forget not, in your speed, Antonius, To touch Calphurnia, for our elders say, The barren, touched in this holy chase, Shake off their sterile curse.
ANTONIUS  I shall remember When Cæsar says Do this, it is performd.
CÆSAR  Set on, and leave no ceremony out.
SOOTHSAYER  Cæsar
CÆSAR  Ha Who calls?
CASCA  Bid every noise be still peace yet again
CÆSAR  Who is it in the press that calls on me? I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music, Cry Cæsar. Speak, Cæsar is turnd to hear.
SOOTHSAYER  Beware the ides of March.
CÆSAR  What man is that?
BRUTUS  A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.
CÆSAR  Set him before me, let me see his face.
CASCA  Fellow, come from the throng, look upon Cæsar.
CÆSAR  What sayst thou to me now? Speak once again.
SOOTHSAYER  Beware the ides of March.
CÆSAR  He is a dreamer, let us leave him pass.
CASCA  Will you go see the order of the course?
BRUTUS  Not I.
CASCA  I pray you, do.
BRUTUS  I am not gamesome I do lack some part Of that quick spirit that is in Antony. Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires, Ill leave you.
CASCA  Brutus, I do observe you now of late I have not from your eyes that gentleness And show of love as I was wont to have You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand Over your friend that loves you.
BRUTUS  Cassius, Be not deceivd if I have veild my look, I turn the trouble of my countenance Merely upon myself. Vexed I am Of late with passions of some difference, Conceptions only proper to myself, Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviours, But let not therefore my good friends be grievd,— Among which number, Cassius, be you one,— Nor construe any further my neglect, Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war, Forgets the shows of love to other men.
CASCA  Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion, By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations. Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?
BRUTUS  No, Cassius, for the eye sees not itself, But by reflection, by some other things.
CASCA  Tis just And it is very much lamented, Brutus, That you have no such mirrors as will turn Your hidden worthiness into your eye, That you might see your shadow. I have heard, Where many of the best respect in Rome,— Except immortal Cæsar,—speaking of Brutus, And groaning underneath this ages yoke, Have wishd that noble Brutus had his eyes.
BRUTUS  Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, That you would have me seek into myself For that which is not in me?
CASCA  Therefore, good Brutus, be prepard to hear, And, since you know you cannot see yourself So well as by reflection, I, your glass, Will modestly discover to yourself That of yourself which you yet know not of. And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus Were I a common laugher, or did use To stale with ordinary oaths my love To every new protester, if you know That I do fawn on men and hug them hard, And after scandal them, or if you know That I profess myself in banqueting To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.
BRUTUS  What means this shouting? I do fear the people Choose Cæsar for their king.
CASCA  Ay, do you fear it? Then must I think you would not have it so.
BRUTUS  I would not, Cassius, yet I love him well. But wherefore do you hold me here so long? What is it that you would impart to me? If it be aught toward the general good, Set honour in one eye and death i the other, And I will look on both indifferently, For let the gods so speed me as I love The name of honour more than I fear death.
CASCA  I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus, As well as I do know your outward favour. Well, honour is the subject of my story. I cannot tell what you and other men Think of this life, but, for my single self, I had as lief not be as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself. I was born free as Cæsar, so were you We both have fed as well, and we can both Endure the winters cold as well as he For once, upon a raw and gusty day, The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, Cæsar said to me, Darst thou, Cassius, now Leap in with me into this angry flood, And swim to yonder point? Upon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in And bade him follow, so, indeed he did. The torrent roard, and we did buffet it With lusty sinews, throwing it aside And stemming it with hearts of controversy, But ere we could arrive the point proposd, Cæsar cried, Help me, Cassius, or I sink I, as Æneas, our great ancestor, Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber Did I the tired Cæsar. And this man Is now become a god, and Cassius is A wretched creature and must bend his body If Cæsar carelessly but nod on him. He had a fever when he was in Spain, And when the fit was on him, I did mark How he did shake, tis true, this god did shake, His coward lips did from their colour fly, And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world Did lose his lustre, I did hear him groan, Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans Mark him and write his speeches in their books, Alas it cried, Give me some drink, Titinius, As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me, A man of such a feeble temper should So get the start of the majestic world, And bear the palm alone.
BRUTUS  Another general shout I do believe that these applauses are For some new honours that are heaped on Cæsar.
CASCA  Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world Like a Colossus, and we petty men Walk under his huge legs, and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves. Men at some time are masters of their fates The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings. Brutus and Cæsar what should be in that Cæsar? Why should that name be sounded more than yours? Write them together, yours is as fair a name, Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well, Weigh them, it is as heavy, conjure with em, Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cæsar. Now, in the names of all the gods at once, Upon what meat doth this our Cæsar feed, That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamd Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods When went there by an age, since the great flood, But it was famd with more than with one man? When could they say, till now, that talkd of Rome, That her wide walls encompassd but one man? Now is it Rome indeed and room enough, When there is in it but one only man. O you and I have heard our fathers say, There was a Brutus once that would have brookd Th eternal devil to keep his state in Rome As easily as a king.
BRUTUS  That you do love me, I am nothing jealous, What you would work me to, I have some aim How I have thought of this and of these times, I shall recount hereafter, for this present, I would not, so with love I might entreat you, Be any further movd. What you have said I will consider, what you have to say I will with patience hear, and find a time Both meet to hear and answer such high things. Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this Brutus had rather be a villager Than to repute himself a son of Rome Under these hard conditions as this time Is like to lay upon us.
CASCA  I am glad That my weak words have struck but thus much show Of fire from Brutus.
BRUTUS  The games are done and Cæsar is returning.
CASCA  As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve, And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you What hath proceeded worthy note to-day.
BRUTUS  I will do so. But, look you, Cassius, The angry spot doth glow on Cæsars brow, And all the rest look like a chidden train Calphurnias cheek is pale, and Cicero Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes As we have seen him in the Capitol, Being crossd in conference by some senators.
CASCA  Casca will tell us what the matter is.
CÆSAR  Antonius
ANTONIUS  Cæsar.
CÆSAR  Let me have men about me that are fat, Sleek-headed men and such as sleep o nights. Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look, He thinks too much such men are dangerous
ANTONIUS  Fear him not, Cæsar, hes not dangerous, He is a noble Roman, and well given.
CÆSAR  Would he were fatter but I fear him not Yet if my name were liable to fear, I do not know the man I should avoid So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much, He is a great observer, and he looks Quite through the deeds of men, he loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony, he hears no music, Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort As if he mockd himself, and scornd his spirit That could be movd to smile at any thing. Such men as he be never at hearts ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous. I rather tell thee what is to be feard Than what I fear, for always I am Cæsar. Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf, And tell me truly what thou thinkst of him.
CASCA  You pulld me by the cloak, would you speak with me?
BRUTUS  Ay, Casca, tell us what hath chancd to-day, That Cæsar looks so sad.
CASCA  Why, you were with him, were you not?
BRUTUS  I should not then ask Casca what had chancd.
CASCA  Why, there was a crown offered him, and, being offered him, he put it by with the back of his hand, thus, and then the people fell a-shouting.
BRUTUS  What was the second noise for?
CASCA  Why, for that too.
CASCA  They shouted thrice what was the last cry for?
CASCA  Why, for that too.
BRUTUS  Was the crown offered him thrice?
CASCA  Ay, marry, was t, and he put it by thrice, everytime gentler than other, and at every putting-by mine honest neighbours shouted.
CASCA  Who offered him the crown?
CASCA  Why, Antony.
BRUTUS  Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca.
CASCA  I can as well be hanged as tell the manner of it it was mere foolery, I did not mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown, yet twas not a crown neither, twas one of these coronets, and, as I told you, he put it by once, but, for all that, to my thinking, he would fain have had it. Then he offered it to him again, then he put it by again, but, to my thinking, he was very loath to lay his fingers off it. And then he offered it the third time, he put it the third time by, and still as he refused it the rabblement shouted and clapped their chopped hands, and threw up their sweaty night-caps, and uttered such a deal of stinking breath because Cæsar refused the crown, that it had almost choked Cæsar, for he swounded and fell down at it and for mine own part, I durst not laugh, for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air.
CASCA  But soft, I pray you what did Cæsar swound?
CASCA  He fell down in the market-place, and foamed at mouth, and was speechless.
BRUTUS  Tis very like he hath the falling-sickness.
CASCA  No, Cæsar hath it not, but you, and I, And honest Casca, we have the falling-sickness.
CASCA  I know not what you mean by that, but I am sure Cæsar fell down. If the tag-rag people did not clap him and hiss him, according as he pleased and displeased them, as they use to do the players in the theatre, I am no true man.
BRUTUS  What said he, when he came unto himself?
CASCA  Marry, before he fell down, when he perceivd the common herd was glad he refused the crown, he plucked me ope his doublet and offered them his throat to cut. An I had been a man of any occupation, if I would not have taken him at a word, I would I might go to hell among the rogues. And so he fell. When he came to himself again, he said, if he had done or said any thing amiss, he desired their worships to think it was his infirmity. Three or four wenches, where I stood, cried, Alas good soul, and forgave him with all their hearts but theres no head to be taken of them, if Cæsar had stabbed their mothers, they would have done no less.
BRUTUS  And after that he came, thus sad, away?
CASCA  Ay.
CASCA  Did Cicero say any thing?
CASCA  Ay, he spoke Greek.
CASCA  To what effect?
CASCA  Nay, an I tell you that, Ill neer look you i the face again, but those that understood him smiled at one another and shook their heads, but, for mine own part, it was Greek to me. I could tell you more news too, Marullus and Flavius, for pulling scarfs off Cæsars images, are put to silence. Fare you well. There was more foolery yet, if I could remember it.
CASCA  Will you sup with me to-night, Casca?
CASCA  No, I am promised forth.
CASCA  Will you dine with me to-morrow?
CASCA  Ay, if I be alive, and your mind hold, and your dinner worth the eating.
CASCA  Good, I will expect you.
CASCA  Do so. Farewell, both.
BRUTUS  What a blunt fellow is this grown to be He was quick mettle when he went to school.
CASCA  So is he now in execution Of any bold or noble enterprise, However he puts on this tardy form. This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, Which gives men stomach to digest his words With better appetite.
BRUTUS  And so it is. For this time I will leave you To-morrow, if you please to speak with me, I will come home to you, or, if you will, Come home to me, and I will wait for you.
CASCA  I will do so till then, think of the world. Well, Brutus, thou art noble, yet, I see, Thy honourable metal may be wrought From that it is disposd therefore tis meet That noble minds keep ever with their likes, For who so firm that cannot be seducd? Cæsar doth bear me hard, but he loves Brutus If I were Brutus now and he were Cassius He should not humour me. I will this night, In several hands, in at his windows throw, As if they came from several citizens, Writings all tending to the great opinion That Rome holds of his name, wherein obscurely Cæsars ambition shall be glanced at And after this let Cæsar seat him sure, For we will shake him, or worse days endure.
CICERO  Good even, Casca brought you Cæsar home? Why are you breathless? and why stare you so?
CASCA  Are not you movd, when all the sway of earth Shakes like a thing unfirm? O Cicero I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds Have rivd the knotty oaks, and I have seen The ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam, To be exalted with the threatning clouds But never till to-night, never till now, Did I go through a tempest dropping fire. Either there is a civil strife in heaven, Or else the world, too saucy with the gods, Incenses them to send destruction.
CICERO  Why, saw you any thing more wonderful?
CASCA  A common slave—you know him well by sight— Held up his left hand, which did flame and burn Like twenty torches joind, and yet his hand, Not sensible of fire, remaind unscorchd. Besides,—I have not since put up my sword,— Against the Capitol I met a hon, Who glard upon me, and went surly by, Without annoying me, and there were drawn Upon a heap a hundred ghastly women, Transformed with their fear, who swore they saw Men all in fire walk up and down the streets. And yesterday the bird of night did sit, Even at noon-day, upon the market-place, Hooting and shrieking. When these prodigies Do so conjointly meet, let not men say These are their reasons, they are natural, For, I believe, they are portentous things Unto the climate that they point upon.
CICERO  Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time But men may construe things after their fashion, Clean from the purpose of the things themselves. Comes Cæsar to the Capitol to-morrow?
CASCA  He doth, for he did bid Antonius Send word to you he would be there to-morrow.
CICERO  Good-night then, Casca this disturbed sky Is not to walk in.
CASCA  Farewell, Cicero.
CASCA  Whos there?
CASCA  A Roman.
CASCA  Casca, by your voice.
CASCA  Your ear is good. Cassius, what night is this
CASCA  A very pleasing night to honest men.
CASCA  Who ever knew the heavens menace so?
CASCA  Those that have known the earth so full of faults. For my part, I have walkd about the streets, Submitting me unto the perilous night, And, thus unbraced, Casca, as you see, Have bard my bosom to the thunder-stone, And, when the cross blue lightning seemd to open The breast of heaven, I did present myself Even in the aim and very flash of it.
CASCA  But wherefore did you so much tempt the heavens? It is the part of men to fear and tremble When the most mighty gods by tokens send Such dreadful heralds to astonish us.
CASCA  You are dull, Casca, and those sparks of life That should be in a Roman you do want, Or else you use not. You look pale, and gaze, And put on fear, and cast yourself in wonder, To see the strange impatience of the heavens, But if you would consider the true cause Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts, Why birds and beasts, from quality and kind, Why old men, fools, and children calculate, Why all these things change from their ordinance, Their natures, and pre-formed faculties, To monstrous quality, why, you shall find That heaven hath infusd them with these spirits To make them instruments of fear and warning Unto some monstrous state. Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man Most like this dreadful night, That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars As doth the lion in the Capitol, A man no mightier than thyself or me In personal action, yet prodigious grown And fearful as these strange eruptions are.
CASCA  Tis Cæsar that you mean, is it not, Cassius?
CASCA  Let it be who it is for Romans now Have thews and limbs like to their ancestors, But, woe the while our fathers minds are dead, And we are governd with our mothers spirits, Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish.
CASCA  Indeed, they say the senators to-morrow Mean to establish Cæsar as a king, And he shall wear his crown by sea and land, In every place, save here in Italy.
CASCA  I know where I will wear this dagger then, Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong, Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, Can be retentive to the strength of spirit, But life, being weary of those worldly bars, Never lacks power to dismiss itself. If I know this, know all the world besides, That part of tyranny that I do bear I can shake off at pleasure.
CASCA  So can I So every bondman in his own hand bears The power to cancel his captivity.
CASCA  And why should Cæsar be a tyrant then? Poor man I know he would not be a wolf But that he sees the Romans are but sheep, He were no lion were not Romans hinds. Those that with haste will make a mighty fire Begin it with weak straws, what trash is Rome, What rubbish, and what offal, when it serves For the base matter to illuminate So vile a thing as Cæsar But, O grief Where hast thou led me? I, perhaps, speak this Before a willing bondman, then I know My answer must be made but I am armd, And dangers are to me indifferent.
CASCA  You speak to Casca, and to such a man That is no fleering tell-tale. Hold, my hand Be factious for redress of all these griefs, And I will set this foot of mine as far As who goes furthest.
CASCA  Theres a bargain made. Now know you, Casca, I have movd already Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans To undergo with me an enterprise Of honourable-dangerous consequence, And I do know by this they stay for me In Pompeys porch for now, this fearful night, There is no stir, or walking in the streets, And the complexion of the element In favours like the work we have in hand, Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible.
CASCA  Stand close awhile, for here comes one in haste.
CASCA  Tis Cinna, I do know him by his gait He is a friend.
CINNA  To find out you. Whos that? Metellus Cimber?
CASCA  No, it is Casca, one incorporate To our attempts. Am I not stayd for, Cinna?
CINNA  I am glad on t. What a fearful night is this Theres two or three of us have seen strange sights.
CASCA  Am I not stayd for? Tell me.
CINNA  Yes, you are. O Cassius if you could But win the noble Brutus to our party—
CASCA  Be you content. Good Cinna, take this paper, And look you lay it in the prætors chair, Where Brutus may but find it, and throw this In at his window, set this up with wax Upon old Brutus statue all this done, Repair to Pompeys porch, where you shall find us. Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there?
CINNA  All but Metellus Cimber, and hes gone To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie, And so bestow these papers as you bade me.
CASCA  That done, repair to Pompeys theatre. Come, Casca, you and I will yet ere day See Brutus at his house three parts of him Is ours already, and the man entire Upon the next encounter yields him ours.
CASCA  O he sits high in all the peoples hearts And that which would appear offence in us, His countenance, like richest alchemy, Will change to virtue and to worthiness.
CASCA  Him and his worth and our great need of him You have right well conceited. Let us go, For it is after midnight, and ere day We will awake him and be sure of him.
BRUTUS  What, Lucius ho I cannot, by the progress of the stars, Give guess how near to day. Lucius, I say I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly. When, Lucius, when Awake, I say what, Lucius
LUCIUS  Calld you, my lord?
BRUTUS  Get me a taper in my study, Lucius When it is lighted, come and call me here.
LUCIUS  I will, my lord.
BRUTUS  It must be by his death and, for my part, I know no personal cause to spurn at him, But for the general. He would be crownd How that might change his nature, theres the question It is the bright day that brings forth the adder, And that craves wary walking. Crown him?—that And then, I grant, we put a sting in him, That at his will he may do danger with. The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins Remorse from power, and, to speak truth of Cæsar, I have not known when his affections swayd More than his reason. But tis a common proof, That lowliness is young ambitions ladder, Whereto the climber-upward turns his face, But when he once attains the upmost round, He then unto the ladder turns his back, Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees By which he did ascend. So Cæsar may Then, lest he may, prevent. And, since the quarrel Will bear no colour for the thing he is, Fashion it thus, that what he is, augmented, Would run to these and these extremities, And therefore think him as a serpents egg Which, hatchd, would, as his kind, grow mischievous, And kill him in the shell.
LUCIUS  The taper burneth in your closet, sir. Searching the window for a flint, I found This paper, thus seald up, and I am sure It did not lie there when I went to bed.
BRUTUS  Get you to bed again, it is not day. Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March?
LUCIUS  I know not, sir.
BRUTUS  Look in the calendar, and bring me word.
LUCIUS  I will, sir.
LUCIUS  Sir, March is wasted fourteen days.
BRUTUS  Tis good. Go to the gate somebody knocks. Since Cassius first did whet me against Cæsar, I have not slept. Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream The genius and the mortal instruments Are then in council, and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection.
LUCIUS  Sir, tis your brother Cassius at the door, Who doth desire to see you.
BRUTUS  Is he alone?
LUCIUS  No, sir, there are more with him.
BRUTUS  Do you know them?
LUCIUS  No, sir, their hats are pluckd about their ears, And half their faces buried in their cloaks, That by no means I may discover them By any mark of favour.
BRUTUS  Let em enter. They are the faction. O conspiracy Shamst thou to show thy dangerous brow by night, When evils are most free? O then by day Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek none, conspiracy, Hide it in smiles and affability For if thou path, thy native semblance on, Not Erebus itself were dim enough To hide thee from prevention.
CASCA  I think we are too bold upon your rest Good morrow, Brutus, do we trouble you?
BRUTUS  I have been up this hour, awake all night. Know I these men that come along with you?
CASCA  Yes, every man of them, and no man here But honours you, and every one doth wish You had but that opinion of yourself Which every noble Roman bears of you. This is Trebonius.
BRUTUS  He is welcome hither.
CASCA  This, Decius Brutus.
BRUTUS  He is welcome too.
CASCA  This, Casca, this, Cinna, And this, Metellus Cimber.
BRUTUS  They are all welcome. What watchful cares do interpose themselves Betwixt your eyes and night?
CASCA  Shall I entreat a word?
BRUTUS  Here lies the east doth not the day break here?
CASCA  No.
CINNA  O pardon, sir, it doth, and yon grey lines That fret the clouds are messengers of day.
CASCA  You shall confess that you are both deceivd. Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises, Which is a great way growing on the south, Weighing the youthful season of the year. Some two months hence up higher toward the north He first presents his fire, and the high east Stands, as the Capitol, directly here.
BRUTUS  Give me your hands all over, one by one.
CASCA  And let us swear our resolution.
BRUTUS  No, not an oath if not the face of men, The sufferance of our souls, the times abuse, If these be motives weak, break off betimes, And every man hence to his idle bed, So let high-sighted tyranny range on, Till each man-drop by lottery. But if these, As I am sure they do, bear fire enough To kindle cowards and to steel with valour The melting spirits of women, then, countrymen, What need we any spur but our own cause To prick us to redress? what other bond Than secret Romans, that have spoke the word And will not palter? and what other oath Than honesty to honesty engagd, That this shall be, or we will fall for it? Swear priests and cowards and men cautelous, Old feeble carrions and such suffering souls That welcome wrongs, unto bad causes swear Such creatures as men doubt, but do not stain The even virtue of our enterprise, Nor th insuppressive mettle of our spirits, To think that or our cause or our performance Did need an oath, when every drop of blood That every Roman bears, and nobly bears, Is guilty of a several bastardy, If he do break the smallest particle Of any promise that hath passd from him.
CASCA  But what of Cicero? Shall we sound him? I think he will stand very strong with us.
CASCA  Let us not leave him out.
CINNA  No, by no means.
METELLUS  O let us have him, for his silver hairs Will purchase us a good opinion And buy mens voices to commend our deeds It shall be said his judgment ruld our hands, Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear, But all be buried in his gravity.
BRUTUS  O name him not let us not break with him, For he will never follow any thing That other men begin.
CASCA  Then leave him out.
CASCA  Indeed he is not fit.
BRUTUS  Shall no man else be touchd but only Cæsar?
CASCA  Decius, well urgd. I think it is not meet, Mark Antony, so well belovd of Cæsar, Should outlive Cæsar we shall find of him A shrewd contriver, and, you know, his means, If he improve them, may well stretch so far As to annoy us all, which to prevent, Let Antony and Cæsar fall together.
BRUTUS  Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius, To cut the head off and then hack the limbs, Like wrath in death and envy afterwards, For Antony is but a limb of Cæsar. Let us be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius. We all stand up against the spirit of Cæsar, And in the spirit of men there is no blood O then that we could come by Cæsars spirit, And not dismember Cæsar. But, alas Cæsar must bleed for it. And, gentle friends, Lets kill him boldly, but not wrathfully, Lets carve him as a dish fit for the gods, Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds And let our hearts, as subtle masters do, Stir up their servants to an act of rage, And after seem to chide em. This shall make Our purpose necessary and not envious, Which so appearing to the common eyes, We shall be calld purgers, not murderers. And, for Mark Antony, think not of him, For he can do no more than Cæsars arm When Cæsars head is off.
CASCA  Yet I fear him, For in the engrafted love he bears to Cæsar—
BRUTUS  Alas good Cassius, do not think of him If he love Cæsar, all that he can do Is to himself, take thought and die for Cæsar And that were much he should, for he is given To sports, to wildness, and much company.
TREBONIUS  There is no fear in him, let him not die For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter.
BRUTUS  Peace count the clock.
CASCA  The clock hath stricken three.
TREBONIUS  Tis time to part.
CASCA  But it is doubtful yet Whether Cæsar will come forth to-day or no, For he is superstitious grown of late, Quite from the main opinion he held once Of fantasy, of dreams, and ceremonies. It may be, these apparent prodigies, The unaccustomd terror of this night, And the persuasion of his augurers, May hold him from the Capitol to-day.
BRUTUS  Never fear that if he be so resolvd, I can oersway him, for he loves to hear That unicorns may be betrayd with trees, And bears with glasses, elephants with holes, Lions with toils, and men with flatterers, But when I tell him he hates flatterers, He says he does, being then most flattered. Let me work, For I can give his humour the true bent, And I will bring him to the Capitol.
CASCA  Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him.
BRUTUS  By the eighth hour is that the uttermost?
CINNA  Be that the uttermost, and fail not then.
METELLUS  Caius Ligarius doth bear Cæsar hard, Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey I wonder none of you have thought of him.
BRUTUS  Now, good Metellus, go along by him He loves me well, and I have given him reasons, Send him but hither, and Ill fashion him.
CASCA  The morning comes upon s well leave you, Brutus. And, friends, disperse yourselves, but all remember What you have said, and show yourselves true Romans.
BRUTUS  Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily, Let not our looks put on our purposes, But bear it as our Roman actors do, With untird spirits and formal constancy And so good morrow to you every one. Boy Lucius Fast asleep? It is no matter, Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies Which busy care draws in the brains of men, Therefore thou sleepst so sound.
PORTIA  Brutus, my lord
BRUTUS  Portia, what mean you? Wherefore rise you now? It is not for your health thus to commit Your weak condition to the raw cold morning.
PORTIA  Nor for yours neither. Youve ungently, Brutus, Stole from my bed, and yesternight at supper You suddenly arose, and walkd about, Musing and sighing, with your arms across, And when I askd you what the matter was, You stard upon me with ungentle looks. I urgd you further, then you scratchd your head, And too impatiently stampd with your foot, Yet I insisted, yet you answerd not, But, with an angry wafture of your hand. Gave sign for me to leave you. So I did, Fearing to strengthen that impatience Which seemd too much enkindled, and withal Hoping it was but an effect of humour, Which sometime hath his hour with every man. It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep, And could it work so much upon your shape As it hath much prevaild on your condition, I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord, Make me acquainted with your cause of grief.
BRUTUS  I am not well in health, and that is all.
PORTIA  Brutus is wise, and were he not in health, He would embrace the means to come by it.
BRUTUS  Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed.
PORTIA  Is Brutus sick, and is it physical To walk unbraced and suck up the humours Of the dank morning? What is Brutus sick, And will he steal out of his wholesome bed To dare the vile contagion of the night, And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus, You have some sick offence within your mind, Which, by the right and virtue of my place, I ought to know of, and, upon my knees, I charm you, by my once-commended beauty, By all your vows of love, and that great vow Which did incorporate and make us one, That you unfold to me, your self, your half, Why are you heavy, and what men to-night Have had resort to you, for here have been Some six or seven, who did hide their faces Even from darkness.
BRUTUS  Kneel not, gentle Portia.
PORTIA  I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus. Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus, Is it excepted, I should know no secrets That appertain to you? Am I yourself But, as it were, in sort of limitation, To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed, And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the suburbs Of your good pleasure? If it be no more, Portia is Brutus harlot, not his wife.
BRUTUS  You are my true and honourable wife, As dear to me as are the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart.
PORTIA  If this were true then should I know this secret. I grant I am a woman, but, withal, A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife, I grant I am a woman, but, withal, A woman well-reputed, Catos daughter. Think you I am no stronger than my sex, Being so fatherd and so husbanded? Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose em. I have made strong proof of my constancy, Giving myself a voluntary wound Here, in the thigh can I bear that with patience And not my husbands secrets?
LUCIUS  Here is a sick man that would speak with you.
BRUTUS  Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spoke of. Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius how?
LIGARIUS  Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue.
BRUTUS  O what a time have you chose out, brave Caius, To wear a kerchief. Would you were not sick.
LIGARIUS  I am not sick if Brutus have in hand Any exploit worthy the name of honour.
BRUTUS  Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius, Had you a healthful ear to hear of it.
LIGARIUS  By all the gods that Romans bow before I here discard my sickness. Soul of Rome Brave son, derivd from honourable loins Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjurd up My mortified spirit. Now bid me run, And I will strive with things impossible, Yea, get the better of them. Whats to do?
BRUTUS  A piece of work that will make sick men whole.
LIGARIUS  But are not some whole that we must make sick?
BRUTUS  That must we also. What it is, my Caius, I shall unfold to thee as we are going To whom it must be done.
LIGARIUS  Set on your foot, And with a heart new-fird I follow you, To do I know not what, but it sufficeth That Brutus leads me on.
BRUTUS  Follow me then.
CÆSAR  Nor heaven nor earth have been at peace to-night Thrice hath Calphurnia in her sleep cried out, Help, ho They murder Cæsar Whos within?
SERVANT  My lord
CÆSAR  Go bid the priests do present sacrifice, And bring me their opinions of success.
SERVANT  I will, my lord.
CALPHURNIA  What mean you, Cæsar? Think you to walk forth? You shall not stir out of your house to-day.
CÆSAR  Cæsar shall forth the things that threatend me Neer lookd but on my back, when they shall see The face of Cæsar, they are vanished.
CALPHURNIA  Cæsar, I never stood on ceremonies, Yet now they fright me. There is one within, Besides the things that we have heard and seen, Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch. A lioness hath whelped in the streets, And graves have yawnd and yielded up their dead, Fierce fiery warriors fought upon the clouds, In ranks and squadrons and right form of war, Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol, The noise of battle hurtled in the air, Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan, And ghosts did shriek and squeal about the streets. O Cæsar these things are beyond all use, And I do fear them.
CÆSAR  What can be avoided Whose end is purposd by the mighty gods? Yet Cæsar shall go forth, for these predictions Are to the world in general as to Cæsar.
CALPHURNIA  When beggars die there are no comets seen, The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.
CÆSAR  Cowards die many times before their deaths, The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear, Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.
SERVANT  They would not have you to stir forth to-day. Plucking the entrails of an offering forth, They could not find a heart within the beast.
CÆSAR  The gods do this in shame of cowardice Cæsar should be a beast without a heart If he should stay at home to-day for fear. No, Cæsar shall not, danger knows full well That Cæsar is more dangerous than he We are two lions litterd in one day, And I the elder and more terrible And Cæsar shall go forth.
CALPHURNIA  Alas my lord, Your wisdom is consumd in confidence. Do not go forth to-day call it my fear That keeps you in the house, and not your own. Well send Mark Antony to the senate-house, And he shall say you are not well to-day Let me, upon my knee, prevail in this.
CÆSAR  Mark Antony shall say I am not well, And, for thy humour, I will stay at home.
BRUTUS  Cæsar, all hail Good morrow, worthy Cæsar I come to fetch you to the senate-house.
CÆSAR  And you are come in very happy time To bear my greeting to the senators, And tell them that I will not come to-day Cannot, is false, and that I dare not, falser, I will not come to-day tell them so, Decius.
CALPHURNIA  Say he is sick.
CÆSAR  Shall Cæsar send a lie? Have I in conquest stretchd mine arm so far To be afeard to tell greybeards the truth? Decius, go tell them Cæsar will not come.
BRUTUS  Most mighty Cæsar, let me know some cause, Lest I be laughd at when I tell them so.
CÆSAR  The cause is in my will I will not come, That is enough to satisfy the senate But for your private satisfaction, Because I love you, I will let you know Calphurnia here, my wife, stays me at home She dreamt to-night she saw my statua, Which, like a fountain with a hundred spouts, Did run pure blood, and many lusty Romans Came smiling, and did bathe their hands in it And these does she apply for warnings and portents, And evils imminent, and on her knee Hath beggd that I will stay at home to-day.
BRUTUS  This dream is all amiss interpreted, It was a vision fair and fortunate Your statue spouting blood in many pipes, In which so many smiling Romans bathd, Signifies that from you great Rome shall suck Reviving blood, and that great men shall press For tinctures, stains, relics, and cognizance. This by Calphurnias dream is signified.
CÆSAR  And this way have you well expounded it.
BRUTUS  I have, when you have heard what I can say And know it now the senate have concluded To give this day a crown to mighty Cæsar. If you shall send them word you will not come, Their minds may change. Besides, it were a mock Apt to be renderd, for some one to say Break up the senate till another time, When Cæsars wife shall meet with better dreams. If Cæsar hide himself, shall they not whisper Lo Cæsar is afraid? Pardon me, Cæsar, for my dear dear love To your proceeding bids me tell you this, And reason to my love is liable.
CÆSAR  How foolish do your fears seem now, Calphurnia I am ashamed I did yield to them. Give me my robe, for I will go
PUBLIUS  Good morrow, Cæsar.
CÆSAR  Welcome, Publius. What Brutus, are you stirrd so early too? Good morrow, Casca. Caius Ligarius, Cæsar was neer so much your enemy As that same ague which hath made you lean. What ist oclock?
BRUTUS  Cæsar, tis strucken eight.
ANTONIUS  So to most noble Cæsar.
CÆSAR  Bid them prepare within I am to blame to be thus waited for. Now, Cinna, now, Metellus, what, Trebonius I have an hours talk in store for you, Remember that you call on me to-day Be near me, that I may remember you.
Aside.  That your best friends shall wish I had been further.
CÆSAR  Good friends, go in, and taste some wine with me, And we, like friends, will straightway go together.
Aside.  The heart of Brutus yearns to think upon.
ARTEMIDORUS. Here will I stand till Cæsar pass along, And as a suitor will I give him this. My heart laments that virtue cannot live Out of the teeth of emulation. If thou read this, O Cæsar thou mayst live, If not, the Fates with traitors do contrive.
PORTIA  I prithee, boy, run to the senate-house, Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone. Why dost thou stay?
LUCIUS  To know my errand, madam.
PORTIA  I would have had thee there, and here again, Ere I can tell thee what thou shouldst do there. O constancy be strong upon my side, Set a huge mountain tween my heart and tongue, I have a mans mind, but a womans might. How hard it is for women to keep counsel Art thou here yet?
LUCIUS  Madam, what shall I do? Run to the Capitol, and nothing else? And so return to you, and nothing else?
PORTIA  Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord look well, For he went sickly forth, and take good note What Cæsar doth, what suitors press to him. Hark, boy what noise is that?
LUCIUS  I hear none, madam.
PORTIA  Prithee, listen well I heard a bustling rumour, like a fray, And the wind brings it from the Capitol.
LUCIUS  Sooth, madam, I hear nothing.
PORTIA  Come hither, fellow which way hast thou been?
SOOTHSAYER  At mine own house, good lady.
PORTIA  What is t oclock?
SOOTHSAYER  About the ninth hour, lady.
PORTIA  Is Cæsar yet gone to the Capitol?
SOOTHSAYER  Madam, not yet I go to take my stand, To see him pass on to the Capitol.
PORTIA  Thou hast some suit to Cæsar, hast thou not?
SOOTHSAYER  That I have, lady if it will please Cæsar To be so good to Cæsar as to hear me, I shall beseech him to befriend himself.
PORTIA  Why, knowst thou any harms intended towards him?
SOOTHSAYER  None that I know will be, much that I fear may chance. Good morrow to you. Here the street is narrow The throng that follows Cæsar at the heels, Of senators, of prætors, common suitors, Will crowd a feeble man almost to death Ill get me to a place more void, and there Speak to great Cæsar as he comes along.
PORTIA  I must go in. Ay me how weak a thing The heart of woman is. O Brutus The heavens speed thee in thine enterprise. Sure, the boy heard me Brutus hath a suit That Cæsar will not grant. O I grow faint. Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord, Say I am merry come to me again, And bring me word what he doth say to thee.
SOOTHSAYER  Ay, Cæsar, but not gone.
ARTEMIDORUS  Hail, Cæsar Read this schedule.
BRUTUS  Trebonius doth desire you to oer-read, At your best leisure, this his humble suit.
ARTEMIDORUS  O Cæsar read mine first, for mines a suit That touches Cæsar nearer. Read it, great Cæsar.
CÆSAR  What touches us ourself shall be last servd
ARTEMIDORUS  Delay not, Cæsar, read it instantly.
CÆSAR  What is the fellow mad?
PUBLIUS  Sirrah, give place.
CÆSAR  What urge you your petitions in the street? Come to the Capitol.
POPILIUS  I wish your enterprise to-day may thrive.
CASCA  What enterprise, Popilius?
POPILIUS  Fare you well.
BRUTUS  What said Popilius Lena?
CASCA  He wishd to-day our enterprise might thrive. I fear our purpose is discovered.
BRUTUS  Look, how he makes to Cæsar mark him.
CASCA  Casca, be sudden, for we fear prevention. Brutus, what shall be done? If this be known, Cassius or Cæsar never shall turn back, For I will slay myself.
BRUTUS  Cassius, be constant Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes, For, look, he smiles, and Cæsar doth not change.
CASCA  Trebonius knows his time, for, look you, Brutus, He draws Mark Antony out of the way.
BRUTUS  Where is Metellus Cimber? Let him go, And presently prefer his suit to Cæsar.
BRUTUS  He is addressd, press near and second him.
CINNA  Casca, you are the first that rears your hand.
CASCA  Are we all ready? What is now amiss, That Cæsar and his senate must redress?
METELLUS  Most high, most mighty, and most puissant Cæsar, Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat A humble heart,—
CÆSAR  I must prevent thee, Cimber. These couchings and these lowly courtesies, Might fire the blood of ordinary men, And turn pre-ordinance and first decree Into the law of children. Be not fond, To think that Cæsar bears such rebel blood That will be thawd from the true quality With that which melteth fools, I mean sweet words, Low-crooked curtsies, and base spaniel fawning. Thy brother by decree is banished If thou dost bend and pray and fawn for him, I spurn thee like a cur out of my way. Know, Cæsar doth not wrong, nor without cause Will he be satisfied.
METELLUS  Is there no voice more worthy than my own, To sound more sweetly in great Cæsars ear For the repealing of my banishd brother?
BRUTUS  I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Cæsar, Desiring thee, that Publius Cimber may Have an immediate freedom of repeal.
CÆSAR  What, Brutus
CASCA  Pardon, Cæsar, Cæsar, pardon As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall, To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber.
CÆSAR  I could be well movd if I were as you, If I could pray to move, prayers would move me, But I am constant as the northern star, Of whose true-fixd and resting quality There is no fellow in the firmament. The skies are painted with unnumberd sparks, They are all fire and every one doth shine, But theres but one in all doth hold his place So, in the world, tis furnishd well with men, And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive, Yet in the number I do know but one That unassailable holds on his rank, Unshakd of motion and that I am he, Let me a little show it, even in this, That I was constant Cimber should be banishd, And constant do remain to keep him so.
CINNA  O Cæsar,—
CÆSAR  Hence Wilt thou lift up Olympus
BRUTUS  Great Cæsar,—
CÆSAR  Doth not Brutus bootless kneel?
CASCA  Speak, hands, for me
CÆSAR  Et tu, Brute? Then fall, Cæsar
CINNA  Liberty Freedom Tyranny is dead Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets.
CASCA  Some to the common pulpits, and cry out, Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement
BRUTUS  People and senators be not affrighted, Fly not, stand still, ambitions debt is paid.
CASCA  Go to the pulpit, Brutus.
BRUTUS  And Cassius too.
BRUTUS  Wheres Publius?
CINNA  Here, quite confounded with this mutiny.
METELLUS  Stand fast together, lest some friend of Cæsars Should chance—
BRUTUS  Talk not of standing. Publius, good cheer, There is no harm intended to your person, Nor to no Roman else, so tell them, Publius.
CASCA  And leave us, Publius, lest that the people, Rushing on us, should do your age some mischief.
BRUTUS  Do so, and let no man abide this deed But we the doers.
CASCA  Wheres Antony?
TREBONIUS  Fled to his house amazd. Men, wives and children stare, cry out and run As it were doomsday.
BRUTUS  Fates, we will know your pleasures. That we shall die, we know, tis but the time And drawing days out, that men stand upon.
CASCA  Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life Cuts off so many years of fearing death.
BRUTUS  Grant that, and then is death a benefit So are we Cæsars friends, that have abridgd His time of fearing death. Stoop, Romans, stoop, And let us bathe our hands in Cæsars blood Up to the elbows, and besmear our swords Then walk we forth, even to the market-place, And waving our red weapons oer our heads, Lets all cry, Peace, freedom, and liberty
CASCA  Stoop, then, and wash. How many ages hence Shall this our lofty scene be acted oer, In states unborn and accents yet unknown
BRUTUS  How many times shall Cæsar bleed in sport, That now on Pompeys basis lies along No worthier than the dust
CASCA  So oft as that shall be, So often shall the knot of us be calld The men that gave their country liberty.
BRUTUS  What shall we forth?
CASCA  Ay, every man away Brutus shall lead, and we will grace his heels With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome.
BRUTUS  Soft who comes here? A friend of Antonys.
SERVANT  Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel, Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down, And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest, Cæsar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving Say I love Brutus, and I honour him, Say I feard Cæsar, honourd him, and lovd him. If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony May safely come to him, and be resolvd How Cæsar hath deservd to lie in death, Mark Antony shall not love Cæsar dead So well as Brutus living, but will follow The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus Thorough the hazards of this untrod state With all true faith. So says my master Antony.
BRUTUS  Thy master is a wise and valiant Roman, I never thought him worse. Tell him, so please him come unto this place, He shall be satisfied, and, by my honour, Depart untouchd.
SERVANT  Ill fetch him presently.
BRUTUS  I know that we shall have him well to friend.
CASCA  I wish we may but yet have I a mind That fears him much, and my misgiving still Falls shrewdly to the purpose.
BRUTUS  But here comes Antony. Welcome, Mark Antony.
ANTONIUS  O mighty Cæsar dost thou lie so low? Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, Shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee well. I know not, gentlemen, what you intend, Who else must be let blood, who else is rank If I myself, there is no hour so fit As Cæsars deaths hour, nor no instrument Of half that worth as those your swords, made rich With the most noble blood of all this world. I do beseech ye, if ye bear me hard, Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke, Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years, I shall not find myself so apt to die No place will please me so, no mean of death, As here by Cæsar, and by you cut off, The choice and master spirits of this age.
BRUTUS  O Antony beg not your death of us. Though now we must appear bloody and cruel, As, by our hands and this our present act, You see we do, yet see you but our hands And this the bleeding business they have done Our hearts you see not, they are pitiful, And pity to the general wrong of Rome— As fire drives out fire, so pity pity— Hath done this deed on Cæsar. For your part, To you our swords have leaden points, Mark Antony, Our arms, in strength of malice, and our hearts Of brothers temper, do receive you in With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence.
CASCA  Your voice shall be as strong as any mans In the disposing of new dignities.
BRUTUS  Only be patient till we have appeasd The multitude, beside themselves with fear, And then we will deliver you the cause Why I, that did love Cæsar when I struck him, Have thus proceeded.
ANTONIUS  I doubt not of your wisdom. Let each man render me his bloody hand First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you, Next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand, Now, Decius Brutus, yours, now yours, Metellus, Yours, Cinna, and, my valiant Casca, yours, Though last, not least in love, yours, good Trebonius. Gentlemen all,—alas what shall I say? My credit now stands on such slippery ground, That one of two bad ways you must conceit me, Either a coward or a flatterer. That I did love thee, Cæsar, O tis true If then thy spirit look upon us now, Shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy death, To see thy Antony making his peace, Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes, Most noble in the presence of thy corse? Had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds, Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood, It would become me better than to close In terms of friendship with thine enemies. Pardon me, Julius Here wast thou bayd, brave hart, Here didst thou fall, and here thy hunters stand, Signd in thy spoil, and crimsond in thy leth O world thou wast the forest to this hart, And this, indeed, O world the heart of thee. How like a deer, strucken by many princes, Dost thou here lie
CASCA  Mark Antony,—
ANTONIUS  Pardon me, Caius Cassius The enemies of Cæsar shall say this, Then, in a friend, it is cold modesty.
CASCA  I blame you not for praising Cæsar so, But what compact mean you to have with us? Will you be prickd in number of our friends, Or shall we on, and not depend on you?
ANTONIUS  Therefore I took your hands, but was indeed Swayd from the point by looking down on Cæsar. Friends am I with you all, and love you all, Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons Why and wherein Cæsar was dangerous.
BRUTUS  Or else were this a savage spectacle. Our reasons are so full of good regard That were you, Antony, the son of Cæsar, You should be satisfied.
ANTONIUS  Thats all I seek And am moreover suitor that I may Produce his body to the market place, And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend, Speak in the order of his funeral.
BRUTUS  You shall, Mark Antony.
BRUTUS  By your pardon, I will myself into the pulpit first, And show the reason of our Cæsars death What Antony shall speak, I will protest He speaks by leave and by permission, And that we are contented Cæsar shall Have all true rites and lawful ceremonies. It shall advantage more than do us wrong.
CASCA  I know not what may fall, I like it not.
BRUTUS  Mark Antony, here, take you Cæsars body. You shall not in your funeral speech blame us, But speak all good you can devise of Cæsar, And say you do t by our permission, Else shall you not have any hand at all About his funeral, and you shall speak In the same pulpit whereto I am going, After my speech is ended.
ANTONIUS  Be it so, I do desire no more.
BRUTUS  Prepare the body then, and follow us.
ANTONIUS  O pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, That I am meek and gentle with these butchers, Thou art the ruins of the noblest man That ever lived in the tide of times. Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood Over thy wounds now do I prophesy, Which like dumb mouths do ope their ruby lips, To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue, A curse shall light upon the limbs of men, Domestic fury and fierce civil strife Shall cumber all the parts of Italy, Blood and destruction shall be so in use, And dreadful objects so familiar, That mothers shall but smile when they behold Their infants quarterd with the hands of war, All pity chokd with custom of fell deeds And Cæsars spirit, ranging for revenge, With Ate by his side come hot from hell, Shall in these confines with a monarchs voice Cry Havoc and let slip the dogs of war, That this foul deed shall smell above the earth With carrion men, groaning for burial.
SERVANT  I do, Mark Antony.
ANTONIUS  Cæsar did write for him to come to Rome.
ANTONIUS  Thy heart is big, get thee apart and weep. Passion, I see, is catching, for mine eyes, Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine, Began to water. Is thy master coming?
SERVANT  He lies to-night within seven leagues of Rome.
ANTONIUS  Post back with speed, and tell him what hath chancd Hare is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome, No Rome of safety for Octavius yet, Hie hence and tell him so. Yet, stay awhile, Thou shalt not back till I have borne this corpse Into the market-place, there shall I try, In my oration, how the people take The cruel issue of these bloody men, According to the which thou shalt discourse To young Octavius of the state of things. Lead me your hand.
CITIZENS  We will be satisfied let us be satisfied.
BRUTUS  Then follow me, and give me audience, friends. Cassius, go you into the other street, And part the numbers. Those that will hear me speak, let em stay here, Those that will follow Cassius, go with him, And public reasons shall be rendered Of Cæsars death.
CITIZEN1  I will hear Brutus speak.
CITIZEN2  I will hear Cassius, and compare their reasons, When severally we hear them rendered.
CITIZEN3  The noble Brutus is ascended silence
BRUTUS  Be patient till the last. Romans, countrymen, and lovers hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear believe me for mine honour, and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Cæsars, to him I say, that Brutus love to Cæsar was no less than his. If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Cæsar, this is my answer Not that I loved Cæsar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Cæsar were living, and die all slaves, than that Cæsar were dead, to live all free men? As Cæsar loved me, I weep for him, as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it, as he was valiant, I honour him, but, as he was ambitious, I slew him. There is tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honour for his valour, and death for his ambition. Who is here so base that would be a bondman? If any, speak, for him have I offended. Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman? If any, speak, for him have I offended. Who is here so vile that will not love his country? If any, speak, for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.
CITIZENS  None, Brutus, none.
BRUTUS  Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Cæsar, than you shall do to Brutus. The question of his death is enrolled in the Capitol, his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy, nor his offences enforced, for which he suffered death.
CITIZENS  Live, Brutus live live
CITIZEN1  Bring him with triumph home unto his house.
CITIZEN2  Give him a statue with his ancestors.
CITIZEN3  Let him be Cæsar.
CITIZEN4  Cæsars better parts Shall be crownd in Brutus.
CITIZEN1  Well bring him to his house with shouts and clamours.
BRUTUS  My countrymen,—
CITIZEN2  Peace silence Brutus speaks.
CITIZEN1  Peace, ho
BRUTUS  Good countrymen, let me depart alone, And, for my sake, stay here with Antony. Do grace to Cæsars corpse, and grace his speech Tending to Cæsars glories, which Mark Antony, By our permission, is allowd to make. I do entreat you, not a man depart, Save I alone, till Antony have spoke.
CITIZEN1  Stay, ho and let us hear Mark Antony.
CITIZEN3  Let him go up into the public chair, Well hear him. Noble Antony, go up.
ANTONIUS  For Brutus sake, I am beholding to you.
CITIZEN4  What does he say of Brutus?
CITIZEN3  He says, for Brutus sake, He finds himself beholding to us all.
CITIZEN4  Twere best he speak no harm of Brutus here.
CITIZEN1  This Cæsar was a tyrant.
CITIZEN3  Nay, thats certain We are blessd that Rome is rid of him.
CITIZEN2  Peace let us hear what Antony can say.
ANTONIUS  You gentle Romans,—
CITIZENS  Peace, ho let us hear him.
ANTONIUS  Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears, I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them, The good is oft interred with their bones, So let it be with Cæsar. The noble Brutus Hath told you Cæsar was ambitious, If it were so, it was a grievous fault, And grievously hath Cæsar answerd it. Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest,— For Brutus is an honourable man, So are they all, all honourable men,— Come I to speak in Cæsars funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me But Brutus says he was ambitious, And Brutus is an honourable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious? When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept, Ambition should be made of sterner stuff Yet Brutus says he was ambitious, And Brutus is an honourable man. You all did see that on the Lupercal I thrice presented him a kingly crown, Which he did thrice refuse was this ambition? Yet Brutus says he was ambitious, And, sure, he is an honourable man. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, But here I am to speak what I do know, You all did love him once, not without cause What cause withholds you then to mourn for him? O judgment thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason. Bear with me, My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar, And I must pause till it come back to me.
CITIZEN1  Methinks there is much reason in his sayings.
CITIZEN2  If thou consider rightly of the matter, Cæsar has had great wrong.
CITIZEN3  Has he, masters? I fear there will a worse come in his place.
CITIZEN4  Markd ye his words? He would not take the crown, Therefore tis certain he was not ambitious.
CITIZEN1  If it be found so, some will dear abide it.
CITIZEN2  Poor soul his eyes are red as fire with weeping.
CITIZEN3  Theres not a nobler man in Rome than Antony.
CITIZEN4  Now mark him, he begins again to speak.
ANTONIUS  But yesterday the word of Cæsar might Have stood against the world, now lies he there, And none so poor to do him reverence. O masters if I were disposd to stir Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, Who, you all know, are honourable men. I will not do them wrong, I rather choose To wrong the dead, to wrong myself, and you, Than I will wrong such honourable men But heres a parchment with the seal of Cæsar, I found it in his closet, tis his will. Let but the commons hear this testament— Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read— And they would go and kiss dead Cæsars wounds, And dip their napkins in his sacred blood, Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, And, dying, mention it within their wills, Bequeathing it as a rich legacy Unto their issue.
CITIZEN4  Well hear the will read it, Mark Antony.
CITIZENS  The will, the will we will hear Cæsars will.
ANTONIUS  Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it It is not meet you know how Cæsar lovd you. You are not wood, you are not stones, but men, And, being men, hearing the will of Cæsar, It will inflame you, it will make you mad. Tis good you know not that you are his heirs, For if you should, O what would come of it.
CITIZEN4  Read the will well hear it, Antony, You shall read us the will, Cæsars will.
ANTONIUS  Will you be patient? Will you stay awhile? I have oershot myself to tell you of it. I fear I wrong the honourable men Whose daggers have stabbd Cæsar, I do fear it.
CITIZEN4  They were traitors honourable men
CITIZENS  The will the testament
CITIZEN2  They were villains, murderers. The will read the will.
ANTONIUS  You will compel me then to read the will? Then make a ring about the corpse of Cæsar, And let me show you him that made the will. Shall I descend? and will you give me leave?
CITIZENS  Come down.
CITIZEN2  Descend.
CITIZEN3  You shall have leave.
CITIZEN4  A ring, stand round.
CITIZEN1  Stand from the hearse, stand from the body.
CITIZEN2  Room for Antony, most noble Antony.
ANTONIUS  Nay, press not so upon me, stand far off.
CITIZENS  Stand back room bear back
ANTONIUS  If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle I remember The first time ever Cæsar put it on, Twas on a summers evening, in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii. Look in this place ran Cassius dagger through See what a rent the envious Casca made Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabbd, And, as he pluckd his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Cæsar followd it, As rushing out of doors, to be resolvd If Brutus so unkindly knockd or no, For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsars angel Judge, O you gods how dearly Cæsar lovd him. This was the most unkindest cut of all, For when the noble Cæsar saw him stab, Ingratitude, more strong than traitors arms, Quite vanquishd him then burst his mighty heart, And, in his mantle muffling up his face, Even at the base of Pompeys status, Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell. O what a fall was there, my countrymen, Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourishd over us. O now you weep, and I perceive you feel The dint of pity, these are gracious drops. Kind souls, what weep you when you but behold Our Cæsars vesture wounded? Look you here, Here is himself, marrd, as you see, with traitors.
CITIZEN1  O piteous spectacle
CITIZEN2  O noble Cæsar
CITIZEN3  O woeful day
CITIZEN4  O traitors villains
CITIZEN1  O most bloody sight
CITIZEN2  We will be revenged.
CITIZENS  Revenge—About—Seek—Burn Fire—Kill—Slay Let not a traitor live.
ANTONIUS  Stay, countrymen
CITIZEN1  Peace there Hear the noble Antony.
CITIZEN2  Well hear him, well follow him, well die with him.
ANTONIUS  Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny. They that have done this deed are honourable What private griefs they have, alas I know not, That made them do it, they are wise and honourable, And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts I am no orator, as Brutus is, But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend, and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him. For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir mens blood I only speak right on, I tell you that which you yourselves do know, Show you sweet Cæsars wounds, poor poor dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me but were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue In every wound of Cæsar, that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
CITIZENS  Well mutiny.
CITIZEN1  Well burn the house of Brutus.
CITIZEN3  Away, then come, seek the conspirators.
ANTONIUS  Yet hear me, countrymen, yet hear me speak.
CITIZENS  Peace, ho—Hear Antony,—most noble Antony.
ANTONIUS  Why, friends, you go to do you know not what. Wherein hath Cæsar thus deservd your loves? Alas you know not I must tell you then. You have forgot the will I told you of.
CITIZENS  Most true. The will lets stay and hear the will.
ANTONIUS  Here is the will, and under Cæsars seal. To every Roman citizen he gives, To every several man, seventy-five drachmas.
CITIZEN2  Most noble Cæsar well revenge his death.
CITIZEN3  O royal Cæsar
ANTONIUS  Hear me with patience.
CITIZENS  Peace, ho
ANTONIUS  Moreover, he hath left you all his walks, His private arbours, and new-planted orchards, On this side Tiber, he hath left them you, And to your heirs for ever, common pleasures, To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves. Here was a Cæsar when comes such another?
CITIZEN1  Never, never Come, away, away Well burn his body in the holy place, And with the brands fire the traitors houses. Take up the body.
CITIZEN2  Go fetch fire.
CITIZEN3  Pluck down benches.
CITIZEN4  Pluck down forms, windows, any thing.
ANTONIUS  Now let it work mischief, thou art afoot, Take thou what course thou wilt
SERVANT  Sir, Octavius is already come to Rome.
ANTONIUS  Where is he?
SERVANT  He and Lepidus are at Cæsars house.
ANTONIUS  And thither will I straight to visit him. He comes upon a wish. Fortune is merry, And in this mood will give us any thing.
SERVANT  I heard him say Brutus and Cassius Are rid like madmen through the gates of Rome.
ANTONIUS  Belike they had some notice of the people, How I had movd them. Bring me to Octavius.
CINNA  I dreamt to-night that I did feast with Cæsar, And things unlucky charge my fantasy I have no will to wander forth of doors, Yet something leads me forth.
CITIZEN1  What is your name?
CITIZEN2  Whither are you going?
CITIZEN3  Where do you dwell?
CITIZEN4  Are you a married man, or a bachelor?
CITIZEN2  Answer every man directly.
CITIZEN1  Ay, and briefly.
CITIZEN4  Ay, and wisely.
CITIZEN3  Ay, and truly, you were best.
CINNA  What is my name? Whither am I going? Where do I dwell? Am I a married man, or a bachelor? Then, to answer every man directly and briefly, wisely and truly wisely I say, I am a bachelor.
CITIZEN2  Thats as much as to say, they are fools that marry, youll bear me a bang for that, I fear. Proceed, directly.
CINNA  Directly, I am going to Cæsars funeral.
CITIZEN1  As a friend or an enemy?
CINNA  As a friend.
CITIZEN2  That matter is answered directly.
CITIZEN4  For your dwelling, briefly.
CINNA  Briefly, I dwell by the Capitol.
CITIZEN3  Your name, sir, truly.
CINNA  Truly, my name is Cinna.
CITIZEN2  Tear him to pieces, hes a conspirator.
CINNA  I am Cinna the poet, I am Cinna the poet.
CITIZEN4  Tear him for his bad verses, tear him for his bad verses.
CINNA  I am not Cinna the conspirator.
CITIZEN2  It is no matter, his names Cinna, pluck but his name out of his heart, and turn him going.
CITIZEN3  Tear him, tear him Come, brands, ho firebrands To Brutus, to Cassius, burn all. Some to Decius house, and some to Cascas, some to Ligarius. Away go
ANTONIUS  These many then shall die, their names are prickd.
OCTAVIUS  Your brother too must die, consent you, Lepidus?
LEPIDUS  I do consent.
OCTAVIUS  Prick him down, Antony.
LEPIDUS  Upon condition Publius shall not live, Who is your sisters son, Mark Antony.
ANTONIUS  He shall not live, look, with a spot I damn him. But, Lepidus, go you to Cæsars house, Fetch the will hither, and we shall determine How to cut off some charge in legacies.
LEPIDUS  What shall I find you here?
OCTAVIUS  Or here or at the Capitol.
ANTONIUS  This is a slight unmeritable man, Meet to be sent on errands is it fit, The three-fold world divided, he should stand One of the three to share it?
OCTAVIUS  So you thought him, And took his voice who should be prickd to die, In our black sentence and proscription.
ANTONIUS  Octavius, I have seen more days than you And though we lay these honours on this man, To ease ourselves of divers slanderous loads, He shall but bear them as the ass bears gold, To groan and sweat under the business, Either led or driven, as we point the way, And having brought our treasure where we will, Then take we down his load, and turn him off, Like to the empty ass, to shake his ears, And graze in commons.
OCTAVIUS  You may do your will, But hes a tried and valiant soldier.
ANTONIUS  So is my horse, Octavius, and for that I do appoint him store of provender. It is a creature that I teach to fight, To wind, to stop, to run directly on, His corporal motion governd by my spirit. And, in some taste, is Lepidus but so, He must be taught, and traind, and bid go forth, A barren-spirited fellow, one that feeds On abject orts, and imitations, Which, out of use and stald by other men, Begin his fashion do not talk of him But as a property. And now, Octavius, Listen great things Brutus and Cassius Are levying powers, we must straight make head, Therefore let our alliance be combind, Our best friends made, and our best means stretchd out, And let us presently go sit in council, How covert matters may be best disclosd, And open perils surest answered.
OCTAVIUS  Let us do so for we are at the stake, And bayd about with many enemies, And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear, Millions of mischiefs.
BRUTUS  Stand, ho
LUCILIUS  Give the word, ho and stand.
BRUTUS  What now, Lucilius is Cassius near?
LUCILIUS  He is at hand, and Pindarus is come To do you salutation from his master.
BRUTUS  He greets me well. Your master, Pindarus, In his own change, or by ill officers, Hath given me some worthy cause to wish Things done, undone, but, if he be at hand, I shall be satisfied.
PINDARUS  I do not doubt But that my noble master will appear Such as he is, full of regard and honour.
BRUTUS  He is not doubted. A word, Lucilius, How he receivd you, let me be resolvd.
LUCILIUS  With courtesy and with respect enough, But not with such familiar instances, Nor with such free and friendly conference, As he hath usd of old.
BRUTUS  Thou hast describd A hot friend cooling. Ever note, Lucilius, When love begins to sicken and decay, It useth an enforced ceremony. There are no tricks in plain and simple faith, But hollow men, like horses hot at hand, Make gallant show and promise of their mettle, But when they should endure the bloody spur, They fall their crests, and, like deceitful jades, Sink in the trial. Comes his army on?
LUCILIUS  They mean this night in Sardis to be quarterd, The greater part, the horse in general, Are come with Cassius.
CASCA  Stand, ho
BRUTUS  Stand, ho Speak the word along.
SOLDIER1  Stand
SOLDIER2  Stand
SOLDIER3  Stand
CASCA  Most noble brother, you have done me wrong.
BRUTUS  Judge me, you gods Wrong I mine enemies? And, if not so, how should I wrong a brother?
CASCA  Brutus, this sober form of yours hides wrongs, And when you do them—
BRUTUS  Cassius, be content, Speak your griefs softly I do know you well. Before the eyes of both our armies here, Which should perceive nothing but love from us, Let us not wrangle bid them move away, Then in my tent, Cassius, enlarge your griefs, And I will give you audience.
CASCA  Pindarus, Bid our commanders lead their charges off A little from this ground.
BRUTUS  Lucilius, do you the like, and let no man Come to our tent till we have done our conference. Let Lucius and Titinius guard our door.
CASCA  That you have wrongd me doth appear in this You have condemnd and noted Lucius Pella For taking bribes here of the Sardians, Wherein my letters, praying on his side, Because I knew the man, were slighted off.
BRUTUS  You wrongd yourself to write in such a case.
CASCA  In such a time as this it is not meet That every nice offence should bear his comment.
BRUTUS  Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Are much condemnd to have an itching palm, To sell and mart your offices for gold To undeservera.
CASCA  I an itching palm You know that you are Brutus that speak this, Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.
BRUTUS  The name of Cassius honours this corruption, And chastisement doth therefore hide his head.
CASCA  Chastisement
BRUTUS  Remember March, the ides of March remember Did not great Julius bleed for justice sake? What villain touchd his body, that did stab, And not for justice? What shall one of us, That struck the foremost man of all this world But for supporting robbers, shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, And sell the mighty space of our large honours For so much trash as may be grasped thus? I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman.
CASCA  Brutus, bay not me, Ill not endure it you forget yourself, To hedge me in. I am a soldier, I, Older in practice, abler than yourself To make conditions.
BRUTUS  Go to, you are not, Cassius.
CASCA  I am.
BRUTUS  I say you are not.
CASCA  Urge me no more, I shall forget myself, Have mind upon your health, tempt me no further.
BRUTUS  Away, slight man
CASCA  Is t possible?
BRUTUS  Hear me, for I will speak. Must I give way and room to your rash choler? Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?
CASCA  O ye gods ye gods Must I endure all this?
BRUTUS  All this ay, more fret till your proud heart break, Go show your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch Under your testy humour? By the gods, You shall digest the venom of your spleen, Though it do split you, for, from this day forth, Ill use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, When you are waspish.
CASCA  Is it come to this?
BRUTUS  You say you are a better soldier Let it appear so, make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well. For mine own part, I shall be glad to learn of noble men.
CASCA  You wrong me every way, you wrong me, Brutus, I said an elder soldier, not a better Did I say, better?
BRUTUS  If you did, I care not.
CASCA  When Cæsar livd, he durst not thus have movd me.
BRUTUS  Peace, peace you durst not so have tempted him.
CASCA  I durst not
BRUTUS  No.
CASCA  What durst not tempt him
BRUTUS  For your life you durst not.
CASCA  Do not presume too much upon my love, I may do that I shall be sorry for.
BRUTUS  You have done that you should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, For I am armd so strong in honesty That they pass by me as the idle wind, Which I respect not. I did send to you For certain sums of gold, which you denied me, For I can raise no money by vile means By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash By any indirection. I did send To you for gold to pay my legions, Which you denied me was that done like Cassius? Should I have answerd Caius Cassius so? When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, To lock such rascal counters from his friends, Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts, Dash him to pieces
CASCA  I denied you not.
BRUTUS  You did.
CASCA  I did not he was but a fool That brought my answer back. Brutus hath rivd my heart. A friend should bear his friends infirmities, But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.
BRUTUS  I do not, till you practise them on me.
CASCA  You love me not.
BRUTUS  I do not like your faults.
CASCA  A friendly eye could never see such faults.
BRUTUS  A flatterers would not, though they do appear As huge as high Olympus.
CASCA  Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, For Cassius is aweary of the world, Hated by one he loves, bravd by his brother, Checkd like a bondman, all his faults observd, Set in a note-book, learnd, and connd by rote, To cast into my teeth. O I could weep My spirit from mine eyes. There is my dagger, And here my naked breast, within, a heart Dearer than Plutus mine, richer than gold If that thou best a Roman, take it forth, I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart Strike, as thou didst at Cæsar, for, I know, When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovdst him better Than ever thou lovdst Cassius.
BRUTUS  Sheathe your dagger Be angry when you will, it shall have scope, Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour. O Cassius you are yoked with a lamb That carries anger as the flint bears fire, Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, And straight is cold again.
CASCA  Hath Cassius livd To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, When grief and blood ill-temperd vexeth him?
BRUTUS  When I spoke that I was ill-temperd too.
CASCA  Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.
BRUTUS  And my heart too.
CASCA  O Brutus
BRUTUS  Whats the matter?
CASCA  Have not you love enough to bear with me, When that rash humour which my mother gave me Makes me forgetful?
BRUTUS  Yes, Cassius, and from henceforth When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, Hell think your mother chides, and leave you so.
Within.  There is some grudge between em, tis not meet They be alone.
CASCA  How now Whats the matter?
POET  For shame, you generals What do you mean? Love, and be friends, as two such men should be, For I have seen more years, Im sure, than ye.
CASCA  Ha, ha how vilely doth this cynic rime
BRUTUS  Get you hence, sirrah, saucy fellow, hence
CASCA  Bear with him, Brutus, tis his fashion.
BRUTUS  Ill know his humour, when he knows his time What should the wars do with these jigging fools? Companion, hence
CASCA  Away, away be gone.
BRUTUS  Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders Prepare to lodge their companies to-night.
CASCA  And come yourselves, and bring Messala with you, Immediately to us.
BRUTUS  Lucius, a bowl of wine
CASCA  I did not think you could have been so angry.
BRUTUS  O Cassius I am sick of many griefs.
CASCA  Of your philosophy you make no use If you give place to accidental evils.
BRUTUS  No man bears sorrow better Portia is dead.
CASCA  Ha Portia
BRUTUS  She is dead.
CASCA  How scapd I killing when I crossd you so? O insupportable and touching loss Upon what sickness?
BRUTUS  Impatient of my absence, And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony Have made themselves so strong,—for with her death That tidings came—with this she fell distract, And, her attendants absent, swallowd fire.
CASCA  And died so?
BRUTUS  Even so.
CASCA  O ye immortal gods
BRUTUS  Speak no more of her. Give me a bowl of wine. In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius.
CASCA  My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge. Fill, Lucius, till the wine oerswell the cup, I cannot drink too much of Brutus love.
CASCA  Portia, art thou gone?
BRUTUS  No more, I pray you. Messala, I have here received letters, That young Octavius and Mark Antony Come down upon us with a mighty power, Bending their expedition towards Philippi.
MESSALA  Myself have letters of the self-same tenour.
BRUTUS  With what addition?
MESSALA  That by proscription and bills of outlawry, Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus, Have put to death an hundred senators.
BRUTUS  Therein our letters do not well agree, Mine speak of seventy senators that died By their proscriptions, Cicero being one.
CASCA  Cicero one
MESSALA  Cicero is dead, And by that order of proscription. Had you your letters from your wife, my lord?
BRUTUS  No, Messala.
MESSALA  Nor nothing in your letters writ of her?
BRUTUS  Nothing, Messala.
MESSALA  That, methinks, is strange.
BRUTUS  Why ask you? Hear you aught of her in yours?
MESSALA  No, my lord.
BRUTUS  Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true.
MESSALA  Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell For certain she is dead, and by strange manner.
BRUTUS  Why, farewell, Portia. We must die, Messala With meditating that she must die once, I have the patience to endure it now.
MESSALA  Even so great men great losses should endure.
CASCA  I have as much of this in art as you, But yet my nature could not bear it so.
BRUTUS  Well, to our work alive. What do you think Of marching to Philippi presently?
CASCA  I do not think it good.
BRUTUS  Your reason?
CASCA  This is it Tis better that the enemy seek us So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, Doing himself offence, whilst we, lying still, Are full of rest, defence, and nimbleness.
BRUTUS  Good reasons must, of force, give place to better, The people twixt Philippi and this ground Do stand but in a forcd affection, For they have grudgd us contribution The enemy, marching along by them, By them shall make a fuller number up, Come on refreshd, new-added, and encouragd, From which advantage shall we cut him off, If at Philippi we do face him there, These people at our back.
CASCA  Hear me, good brother.
BRUTUS  Under your pardon. You must note beside, That we have tried the utmost of our friends, Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe The enemy increaseth every day, We, at the height, are ready to decline. There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune, Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat, And we must take the current when it serves, Or lose our ventures.
CASCA  Then, with your will, go on, Well along ourselves, and meet them at Philippi.
BRUTUS  The deep of night is crept upon our talk, And nature must obey necessity, Which we will niggard with a little rest. There is no more to say?
CASCA  No more. Good-night Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence.
CASCA  O my dear brother This was an ill beginning of the night Never come such division tween our souls Let it not, Brutus.
BRUTUS  Every thing is well.
CASCA  Good-night, my lord.
BRUTUS  Good-night, good brother.
TITINIUS  Good-night, Lord Brutus.
MESSALA  Good-night, Lord Brutus.
BRUTUS  Farewell, every one.
LUCIUS  Here in the tent.
BRUTUS  What thou speakst drowsily? Poor knave, I blame thee not, thou art oerwatchd. Call Claudius and some other of my men, Ill have them sleep on cushions in my tent.
LUCIUS  Varro and Claudius
VARRO  Calls my lord?
BRUTUS  I pray you, sirs, lie in my tent and sleep It may be I shall raise you by and by On business to my brother Cassius.
VARRO  So please you, we will stand and watch your pleasure.
BRUTUS  I will not have it so, lie down, good sirs, It may be I shall otherwise bethink me. Look, Lucius, heres the book I sought for so, I put it in the pocket of my gown.
LUCIUS  I was sure your lordship did not give it me.
BRUTUS  Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful. Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile, And touch thy instrument a strain or two?
LUCIUS  Ay, my lord, an t please you.
BRUTUS  It does, my boy I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.
LUCIUS  It is my duty, sir.
BRUTUS  I should not urge thy duty past thy might, I know young bloods look for a time of rest.
LUCIUS  I have slept, my lord, already.
GHOST  Thy evil spirit, Brutus.
BRUTUS  Why comst thou?
GHOST  To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi.
BRUTUS  Well, then I shall see thee again?
GHOST  Ay, at Philippi.
LUCIUS  The strings, my lord, are false.
BRUTUS  He thinks he still is at his instrument. Lucius, awake
LUCIUS  My lord
BRUTUS  Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so criedst out?
LUCIUS  My lord, I do not know that I did cry.
BRUTUS  Yes, that thou didst. Didst thou see any thing?
LUCIUS  Nothing, my lord.
BRUTUS  Sleep again, Lucius. Sirrah, Claudius Fellow thou awake
VARRO  My lord
CLAUDIUS  My lord
BRUTUS  Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep?
VARRO  Did we, my lord?
CLAUDIUS  Did we, my lord?
BRUTUS  Ay saw you any thing?
VARRO  No, my lord, I saw nothing.
CLAUDIUS  Nor I, my lord.
BRUTUS  Go, and commend me to my brother Cassius. Bid him set on his powers betimes before, And we will follow.
VARRO  It shall be done, my lord.
CLAUDIUS  It shall be done, my lord.
OCTAVIUS  Now, Antony, our hopes are answered You said the enemy would not come down, But keep the hills and upper regions, It proves not so, their battles are at hand, They mean to warn us at Philippi here, Answering before we do demand of them.
ANTONIUS  Tut I am in their bosoms, and I know Wherefore they do it they could be content To visit other places, and come down With fearful bravery, thinking by this face To fasten in our thoughts that they have courage, But tis not so.
MESSENGER  Prepare you, generals The enemy comes on in gallant show, Their bloody sign of battle is hung out, And something to be done immediately.
ANTONIUS  Octavius, lead your battle softly on, Upon the left hand of the even field.
OCTAVIUS  Upon the right hand I, keep thou the left.
ANTONIUS  Why do you cross me in this exigent?
BRUTUS  They stand, and would have parley.
CASCA  Stand fast, Titinius we must out and talk.
OCTAVIUS  Mark Antony, shall we give sign of battle?
ANTONIUS  No, Cæsar, we will answer on their charge. Make forth, the generals would have some words.
OCTAVIUS  Stir not until the signal.
BRUTUS  Words before blows is it so, countrymen?
OCTAVIUS  Not that we love words better, as you do.
BRUTUS  Good words are better than bad strokes, Octavius.
ANTONIUS  In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good words Witness the hole you made in Cæsars heart, Crying, Long live hail, Cæsar
CASCA  Antony, The posture of your blows are yet unknown, But for your words, they rob the Hybla bees, And leave them honeyless.
ANTONIUS  Not stingless too.
BRUTUS  O yes, and soundless too, For you have stoln their buzzing, Antony, And very wisely threat before you sting.
ANTONIUS  Villains you did not so when your vile daggers Hackd one another in the sides of Cæsar How showd your teeth like apes, and fawnd like hounds, And bowd like bondmen, kissing Cæsars feet, Whilst damned Casca, like a cur, behind Struck Cæsar on the neck. O you flatterers
CASCA  Flatterers Now, Brutus, thank yourself This tongue had not offended so to-day, If Cassius might have ruld.
OCTAVIUS  Come, come, the cause if arguing make us sweat, The proof of it will turn to redder drops. Look, I draw a sword against conspirators, When think you that the sword goes up again? Never, till Cæsars three-and-thirty wounds Be well avengd, or till another Cæsar Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors.
BRUTUS  Cæsar, thou canst not die by traitors hands, Unless thou bringst them with thee.
OCTAVIUS  So I hope, I was not born to die on Brutus sword.
BRUTUS  O if thou wert the noblest of thy strain, Young man, thou couldst not die more honourable.
CASCA  A peevish schoolboy, worthless of such honour, Joind with a masquer and a reveller.
ANTONIUS  Old Cassius still
OCTAVIUS  Come, Antony, away Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth. If you dare fight to-day, come to the field, If not, when you have stomachs.
CASCA  Why now, blow wind, swell billow, and swim bark The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.
BRUTUS  Ho Lucilius hark, a word with you.
LUCILIUS  My lord?
CASCA  Messala
MESSALA  What says my general?
CASCA  Messala, This is my birth-day, as this very day Was Cassius born. Give me thy hand, Messala Be thou my witness that against my will, As Pompey was, am I compelld to set Upon one battle all our liberties. You know that I held Epicurus strong, And his opinion, now I change my mind, And partly credit things that do presage. Coming from Sardis, on our former ensign Two mighty eagles fell, and there they perchd, Gorging and feeding from our soldiers hands, Who to Philippi here consorted us This morning are they fled away and gone, And in their stead do ravens, crows, and kites Fly oer our heads, and downward look on us, As we were sickly prey their shadows seem A canopy most fatal, under which Our army lies, ready to give up the ghost.
MESSALA  Believe not so.
CASCA  I but believe it partly, For I am fresh of spirit and resolvd To meet all perils very constantly.
BRUTUS  Even so, Lucilius.
CASCA  Now, most noble Brutus, The gods to-day stand friendly, that we may, Lovers in peace, lead on our days to age But since the affairs of men rest still incertain, Lets reason with the worst that may befall. If we do lose this battle, then is this The very last time we shall speak together What are you then, determined to do?
BRUTUS  Even by the rule of that philosophy By which I did blame Cato for the death Which he did give himself, I know not how, But I do find it cowardly and vile, For fear of what might fall, so to prevent The time of life arming myself with patience, To stay the providence of some high powers That govern us below.
CASCA  Then, if we lose this battle, You are contented to be led in triumph Thorough the streets of Rome?
BRUTUS  No, Cassius, no think not, thou noble Roman, That ever Brutus will go bound to Rome, He bears too great a mind but this same day Must end that work the ides of March begun, And whether we shall meet again I know not. Therefore our everlasting farewell take For ever, and for ever, farewell, Cassius If we do meet again, why, we shall smile, If not, why then, this parting was well made.
CASCA  For ever, and for ever, farewell, Brutus If we do meet again, well smile indeed, If not, tis true this parting was well made.
BRUTUS  Why, then, lead on. O that a man might know The end of this days business, ere it come, But it sufficeth that the day will end, And then the end is known. Come, ho away
CASCA  O look, Titinius, look, the villains fly Myself have to mine own turnd enemy, This ensign here of mine was turning back, I slew the coward, and did take it from him.
TITINIUS  O Cassius Brutus gave the word too early, Who, having some advantage on Octavius, Took it too eagerly his soldiers fell to spoil, Whilst we by Antony are all enclosd.
PINDARUS  Fly further off, my lord, fly further off, Mark Antony is in your tents, my lord Fly, therefore, noble Cassius, fly far off.
CASCA  This hill is far enough. Look, look, Titinius, Are those my tents where I perceive the fire?
TITINIUS  They are, my lord.
CASCA  Titinius, if thou lovst me, Mount thou my horse, and hide thy spurs in him, Till he have brought thee up to yonder troops And here again, that I may rest assurd Whether yond troops are friend or enemy.
TITINIUS  I will be here again, even with a thought.
CASCA  What news?
PINDARUS  So, I am free, yet would not so have been, Durst I have done my will. O Cassius, Far from this country Pindarus shall run, Where never Roman shall take note of him.
MESSALA  It is but change, Titinius, for Octavius Is overthrown by noble Brutus power, As Cassius legions are by Antony.
TITINIUS  These tidings will well comfort Cassius.
MESSALA  Where did you leave him?
TITINIUS  All disconsolate, With Pindarus his bondman, on this hill.
MESSALA  Is not that he that lies upon the ground?
TITINIUS  He lies not like the living. O my heart
MESSALA  Is not that he?
TITINIUS  No, this was he, Messala, But Cassius is no more. O setting sun As in thy red rays thou dost sink to-night, So in his red blood Cassius day is set, The sun of Rome is set. Our day is gone, Clouds, dews, and dangers come, our deeds are done. Mistrust of my success hath done this deed.
MESSALA  Mistrust of good success hath done this deed. O hateful error, melancholys child Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men The things that are not? O error soon conceivd, Thou never comst unto a happy birth, But killst the mother that engenderd thee.
TITINIUS  What, Pindarus Where art thou, Pindarus?
MESSALA  Seek him, Titinius, whilst I go to meet The noble Brutus, thrusting this report Into his ears, I may say, thrusting it, For piercing steel and darts envenomed Shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus As tidings of this sight.
BRUTUS  Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie?
MESSALA  Lo, yonder and Titinius mourning it.
BRUTUS  Titinius face is upward.
CATO  He is slain.
BRUTUS  O Julius Cæsar thou art mighty yet Thy spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords In our own proper entrails.
CATO  Brave Titinius Look wher he have not crownd dead Cassius
BRUTUS  Are yet two Romans living such as these? The last of all the Romans, fare thee well It is impossible that ever Rome Should breed thy fellow. Friends, I owe more tears To this dead man than you shall see me pay.— I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time.— Come therefore, and to Thassos send his body His funerals shall not be in our camp, Lest it discomfort us. Lucilius, come, And come, young Cato,—let us to the field. Labeo and Flavius, set our battles on— Tis three oclock, and, Romans, yet ere night We shall try fortune in a second fight.
BRUTUS  Yet, countrymen, O yet hold up your heads
CATO  What bastard doth not? Who will go with me? I will proclaim my name about the field I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho A foe to tyrants, and my countrys friend, I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho
BRUTUS  And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I, Brutus, my countrys friend, know me for Brutus
LUCILIUS  O young and noble Cato, art thou down? Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinius, And mayst be honourd being Catos son.
SOLDIER1  Yield, or thou diest.
SOLDIER1  We must not. A noble prisoner
SOLDIER2  Room, ho Tell Antony, Brutus is taen.
SOLDIER1  Ill tell the news here comes the general.
ANTONIUS  Where is he?
LUCILIUS  Safe, Antony, Brutus is safe enough I dare assure thee that no enemy Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus The gods defend him from so great a shame When you do find him, or alive or dead, He will be found like Brutus, like himself.
ANTONIUS  This is not Brutus, friend, but, I assure you, A prize no less in worth. Keep this man safe, Give him all kindness I had rather have Such men my friends than enemies. Go on, And see wher Brutus be alive or dead, And bring us word unto Octavius tent, How every thing is chancd.
BRUTUS  Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock.
CLITUS  Statilius showd the torch-light, but, my lord, He came not back he is or taen or slain.
BRUTUS  Sit thee down, Clitus slaying is the word, It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus.
CLITUS  What, I, my lord? No, not for all the world.
BRUTUS  Peace, then no words.
CLITUS  Ill rather kill myself.
BRUTUS  Hark thee, Dardanius.
DARDANIUS  Shall I do such a deed?
CLITUS  O, Dardanius
DARDANIUS  O, Clitus
CLITUS  What ill request did Brutus make to thee?
DARDANIUS  To kill him, Clitus. Look, he meditates.
CLITUS  Now is that noble vessel full of grief, That it runs over even at his eyes.
BRUTUS  Come hither, good Volumnius list a word.
VOLUMNIUS  What says my lord?
BRUTUS  Why this, Volumnius The ghost of Cæsar hath appeard to me Two several times by night, at Sardis once, And this last night here in Philippi fields. I know my hour is come.
VOLUMNIUS  Not so, my lord.
BRUTUS  Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius. Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes, Our enemies have beat us to the pit It is more worthy to leap in ourselves, Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius, Thou knowst that we two went to school together Even for that our love of old, I prithee, Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it.
VOLUMNIUS  Thats not an office for a friend, my lord.
CLITUS  Fly, fly, my lord there is no tarrying here.
BRUTUS  Farewell to you, and you, and you, Volumnius. Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep, Farewell to thee too, Strato. Countrymen, My heart doth joy that yet, in all my life, I found no man but he was true to me. I shall have glory by this losing day, More than Octavius and Mark Antony By this vile conquest shall attain unto. So fare you well at once, for Brutus tongue Hath almost ended his lifes history Night hangs upon mine eyes, my bones would rest, That have but labourd to attain this hour.
CLITUS  Fly, my lord, fly.
BRUTUS  Hence I will follow. I prithee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord Thou art a fellow of a good respect, Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face, While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato?
STRATO  Give me your hand first fare you well, my lord.
OCTAVIUS  What man is that?
MESSALA  My masters man. Strato, where is thy master?
STRATO  Free from the bondage you are in, Messala, The conquerors can but make a fire of him, For Brutus only overcame himself, And no man else hath honour by his death.
LUCILIUS  So Brutus should be found. I thank thee, Brutus, That thou hast provd Lucilius saying true.
OCTAVIUS  All that servd Brutus, I will entertain them. Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?
STRATO  Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you.
OCTAVIUS  Do so, good Messala.
MESSALA  How died my master, Strato?
STRATO  I held the sword, and he did run on it.
MESSALA  Octavius, then take him to follow thee, That did the latest service to my master.
ANTONIUS  This was the noblest Roman of them all, All the conspirators save only he Did that they did in envy of great Cæsar, He only, in a general honest thought And common good to all, made one of them. His life was gentle, and the elements So mixd in him that Nature might stand up And say to all the world, This was a man
OCTAVIUS  According to his virtue let us use him, With all respect and rites of burial. Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie, Most like a soldier, orderd honourably. So, call the field to rest, and lets away, To part the glories of this happy day.
KENT  I thought the king had more affected the Duke of Albany than Cornwall.
GLOUCESTER  It did always seem so to us, but now, in the division of the kingdom, it appears not which of the dukes he values most, for equalities are so weighed that curiosity in neither can make choice of eithers moiety.
KENT  Is not this your son, my lord?
GLOUCESTER  His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge I have so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am brazed to it.
KENT  I cannot conceive you.
GLOUCESTER  Sir, this young fellows mother could, whereupon she grew round-wombed, and had, indeed, sir, a son for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault?
KENT  I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so proper.
GLOUCESTER  But I have a son, sir, by order of law, some year elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account though this knave came somewhat saucily into the world before he was sent for, yet was his mother fair, there was good sport at his making, and the whoreson must be acknowledged. Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund?
EDMUND  No, my lord.
GLOUCESTER  My Lord of Kent remember him hereafter as my honourable friend.
EDMUND  My services to your lordship.
KENT  I must love you, and sue to know you better.
EDMUND  Sir, I shall study deserving.
GLOUCESTER  He hath been out nine years, and away he shall again. The king is coming.
LEAR  Attend the Lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester.
GLOUCESTER  I shall, my liege.
LEAR  Meantime we shall express our darker purpose. Give me the map there. Know that we have divided In three our kingdom, and tis our fast intent To shake all cares and business from our age, Conferring them on younger strengths, while we Unburdend crawl toward death. Our son of Cornwall, And you, our no less loving son of Albany, We have this hour a constant will to publish Our daughters several dowers, that future strife May be prevented now. The princes, France and Burgundy, Great rivals in our youngest daughters love, Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn, And here are to be answerd. Tell me, my daughters,— Since now we will divest us both of rule, Interest of territory, cares of state,— Which of you shall we say doth love us most? That we our largest bounty may extend Where nature doth with merit challenge. Goneril, Our eldest-born, speak first.
GONERIL  Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter, Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty, Beyond what can be valud, rich or rare, No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour, As much as child eer lovd, or father found, A love that makes breath poor and speech unable, Beyond all manner of so much I love you.
LEAR  Of all these bounds, even from this line to this, With shadowy forests and with champains richd, With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, We make thee lady to thine and Albanys issue Be this perpetual. What says our second daughter, Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak.
REGAN  I am made of that self metal as my sister, And prize me at her worth. In my true heart I find she names my very deed of love, Only she comes too short that I profess Myself an enemy to all other joys Which the most precious square of sense possesses And find I am alone felicitate In your dear highness love.
Aside.  And yet not so, since, I am sure, my loves More richer than my tongue.
LEAR  To thee and thine, hereditary ever, Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom, No less in space, validity, and pleasure, Than that conferrd on Goneril. Now, our joy, Although our last, not least, to whose young love The vines of France and milk of Burgundy Strive to be interessd, what can you say to draw A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.
CORDELIA  Nothing, my lord.
LEAR  Nothing?
CORDELIA  Nothing.
LEAR  Nothing will come of nothing speak again.
CORDELIA  Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth I love your majesty According to my bond, nor more nor less.
LEAR  How, how, Cordelia mend your speech a little, Lest you may mar your fortunes.
CORDELIA  Good my lord, You have begot me, bred me, lovd me I Return those duties back as are right fit, Obey you, love you, and most honour you. Why have my sisters husbands, if they say They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed, That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry Half my love with him, half my care and duty Sure I shall never marry like my sisters, To love my father all.
LEAR  But goes thy heart with this?
CORDELIA  Ay, good my lord.
LEAR  So young, and so untender?
CORDELIA  So young, my lord, and true.
LEAR  Let it be so, thy truth then be thy dower For, by the sacred radiance of the sun, The mysteries of Hecate and the night, By all the operation of the orbs From whom we do exist and cease to be, Here I disclaim all my paternal care, Propinquity and property of blood, And as a stranger to my heart and me Hold thee from this for ever. The barbarous Scythian, Or he that makes his generation messes To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom Be as well neighbourd, pitied, and relievd, As thou my sometime daughter.
KENT  Good my liege,—
LEAR  Peace, Kent Come not between the dragon and his wrath. I lovd her most, and thought to set my rest On her kind nursery. Hence, and avoid my sight So be my grave my peace, as here I give Her fathers heart from her Call France. Who stirs? Call Burgundy. Cornwall and Albany, With my two daughters dowers digest the third, Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her. I do invest you jointly with my power, Pre-eminence, and all the large effects That troop with majesty. Ourself by monthly course, With reservation of a hundred knights, By you to be sustaind, shall our abode Make with you by due turn. Only we shall retain The name and all th addition to a king, The sway, revenue, execution of the rest, Beloved sons, be yours which to confirm, This coronet part between you.
KENT  Royal Lear, Whom I have ever honourd as my king, Lovd as my father, as my master followd, As my great patron thought on in my prayers,—
LEAR  The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft.
KENT  Let it fall rather, though the fork invade The region of my heart be Kent unmannerly When Lear is mad. What wouldst thou do, old man? Thinkst thou that duty shall have dread to speak When power to flattery bows? To plainness honours bound When majesty falls to folly. Reserve thy state, And, in thy best consideration, check This hideous rashness answer my life my judgment, Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least, Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sound Reverbs no hollowness.
LEAR  Kent, on thy life, no more.
KENT  My life I never held but as a pawn To wage against thine enemies, nor fear to lose it, Thy safety being the motive.
LEAR  Out of my sight
KENT  See better, Lear, and let me still remain The true blank of thine eye.
LEAR  Now, by Apollo,—
KENT  Now, by Apollo, king, Thou swearst thy gods in vain.
LEAR  O vassal miscreant
ALBANY  Dear sir, forbear.
CORNWALL  Dear sir, forbear.
KENT  Do, Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift, Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat, Ill tell thee thou dost evil.
LEAR  Hear me, recreant On thine allegiance, hear me Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow,— Which we durst never yet,—and, with straind pride To come betwixt our sentence and our power,— Which nor our nature nor our place can hear,— Our potency made good, take thy reward. Five days we do allot thee for provision To shield thee from diseases of the world, And, on the sixth, to turn thy hated back Upon our kingdom if, on the tenth day following Thy banishd trunk be found in our dominions, The moment is thy death. Away By Jupiter, This shall not be revokd.
GLOUCESTER  Heres France and Burgundy, my noble lord.
LEAR  My Lord of Burgundy, We first address toward you, who with this king Hath rivalld for our daughter. What, in the least, Will you require in present dower with her, Or cease your quest of love?
BURGANDY  Most royal majesty, I crave no more than hath your highness offerd, Nor will you tender less.
LEAR  Right noble Burgundy, When she was dear to us we did hold her so, But now her price is falln. Sir, there she stands If aught within that little-seeming substance, Or all of it, with our displeasure piecd, And nothing more, may fitly like your Grace, Shes there, and she is yours.
BURGANDY  I know no answer.
LEAR  Will you, with those infirmities she owes, Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate, Dowerd with our curse, and strangerd with our oath, Take her, or leave her?
BURGANDY  Pardon me, royal sir, Election makes not up on such conditions.
FRANCE  This is most strange, That she, who even but now was your best object, The argument of your praise, balm of your age, The best, the dearest, should in this trice of time Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle So many folds of favour. Sure, her offence Must be of such unnatural degree That monsters it, or your fore-vouchd affection Fall into taint, which to believe of her, Must be a faith that reason without miracle Could never plant in me.
CORDELIA  I yet beseech your majesty— If for I want that glib and oily art To speak and purpose not, since what I well intend, Ill do t before I speak—that you make known It is no vicious blot nor other foulness, No unchaste action, or dishonourd step, That hath deprivd me of your grace and favour, But even for want of that for which I am richer, A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue That I am glad I have not, though not to have it Hath lost me in your liking.
LEAR  Better thou Hadst not been born than not to have pleasd me better.
FRANCE  Is it but this? a tardiness in nature Which often leaves the history unspoke That it intends to do? My Lord of Burgundy, What say you to the lady? Love is not love When it is mingled with regards that stand Aloof from the entire point. Will you have her? She is herself a dowry.
BURGANDY  Royal Lear, Give but that portion which yourself proposd, And here I take Cordelia by the hand, Duchess of Burgundy.
LEAR  Nothing I have sworn, I am firm.
BURGANDY  I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father That you must lose a husband.
CORDELIA  Peace be with Burgundy Since that respects of fortune are his love, I shall not be his wife.
FRANCE  Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor, Most choice, forsaken, and most lovd, despisd Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon Be it lawful I take up whats cast away. Gods, gods tis strange that from their coldst neglect My love should kindle to inflamd respect. Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance, Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy Shall buy this unprizd precious maid of me. Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind Thou losest here, a better where to find.
LEAR  Thou hast her, France, let her be thine, for we Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see That face of hers again, therefore be gone Without our grace, our love, our benison. Come, noble Burgundy.
FRANCE  Bid farewell to your sisters.
CORDELIA  The jewels of our father, with washd eyes Cordelia leaves you I know you what you are, And like a sister am most loath to call Your faults as they are namd. Use well our father To your professed bosoms I commit him But yet, alas stood I within his grace, I would prefer him to a better place. So farewell to you both.
REGAN  Prescribe not us our duties.
GONERIL  Let your study Be to content your lord, who hath receivd you At fortunes alms, you have obedience scanted, And well are worth the want that you have wanted.
CORDELIA  Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides, Who covers faults, at last shame them derides. Well may you prosper
FRANCE  Come, my fair Cordelia.
GONERIL  Sister, it is not little I have to say of what most nearly appertains to us both. I think our father will hence to-night.
REGAN  Thats most certain, and with you, next month with us.
GONERIL  You see how full of changes his age is, the observation we have made of it hath not been little he always loved our sister most, and with what poor judgment he hath now cast her off appears too grossly.
REGAN  Tis the infirmity of his age, yet he hath ever but slenderly known himself.
GONERIL  The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash, then, must we look to receive from his age, not alone the imperfections of long-engraffed condition, but, therewithal the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric years bring with them.
REGAN  Such unconstant starts are we like to have from him as this of Kents banishment.
GONERIL  There is further compliment of leave-taking between France and him. Pray you, let us hit together if our father carry authority with such dispositions as he bears, this last surrender of his will but offend us.
REGAN  We shall further think ont.
GONERIL  We must do something, and i the heat.
EDMUND  Thou, Nature, art my goddess, to thy law My services are bound. Wherefore should I Stand in the plague of custom, and permit The curiosity of nations to deprive me, For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base? When my dimensions are as well compact, My mind as generous, and my shape as true, As honest madams issue? Why brand they us With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base? Who in the lusty stealth of nature take More composition and fierce quality Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed, Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops, Got tween asleep and wake? Well then, Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land Our fathers love is to the bastard Edmund As to the legitimate. Fine word, legitimate Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed, And my invention thrive, Edmund the base Shall top the legitimate—I grow, I prosper, Now, gods, stand up for bastards
GLOUCESTER  Kent banished thus And France in choler parted And the king gone to-night subscribd his power Confind to exhibition All this done Upon the gad Edmund, how now what news?
EDMUND  So please your lordship, none.
GLOUCESTER  Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter?
EDMUND  I know no news, my lord.
GLOUCESTER  What paper were you reading?
EDMUND  Nothing, my lord.
GLOUCESTER  No? What needed then that terrible dispatch of it into your pocket? the quality of nothing hath not such need to hide itself. Lets see, come, if it be nothing, I shall not need spectacles.
EDMUND  I beseech you, sir, pardon me, it is a letter from my brother that I have not all oer-read, and for so much as I have perused, I find it not fit for your oer-looking.
GLOUCESTER  Give me the letter, sir.
EDMUND  I shall offend, either to detain or give it. The contents, as in part I understand them, are to blame.
GLOUCESTER  Lets see, lets see.
EDMUND  I hope, for my brothers justification, he wrote this but as an essay or taste of my virtue.
GLOUCESTER  This policy and reverence of age makes the world bitter to the best of our times, keeps our fortunes from us till our oldness cannot relish them. I begin to find an idle and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny, who sways, not as it hath power, but as it is suffered. Come to me, that of this I may speak more. If our father would sleep till I waked him, you should enjoy half his revenue for ever, and live the beloved of your brother, 
EDMUND  It was not brought me, my lord, theres the cunning of it, I found it thrown in at the casement of my closet.
GLOUCESTER  You know the character to be your brothers?
EDMUND  If the matter were good, my lord, I durst swear it were his, but, in respect of that, I would fain think it were not.
GLOUCESTER  It is his.
EDMUND  It is his hand, my lord, but I hope his heart is not in the contents.
GLOUCESTER  Hath he never heretofore sounded you in this business?
EDMUND  Never, my lord but I have often heard him maintain it to be fit that, sons at perfect age, and fathers declined, the father should be as ward to the son, and the son manage his revenue.
GLOUCESTER  O villain, villain His very opinion in the letter Abhorred villain Unnatural, detested, brutish villain worse than brutish Go, sirrah, seek him, Ill apprehend him. Abominable villain Where is he?
EDMUND  I do not well know, my lord. If it shall please you to suspend your indignation against my brother till you can derive from him better testimony of his intent, you shall run a certain course, where, if you violently proceed against him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great gap in your own honour, and shake in pieces the heart of his obedience. I dare pawn down my life for him, that he hath writ this to feel my affection to your honour, and to no other pretence of danger.
GLOUCESTER  Think you so?
EDMUND  If your honour judge it meet, I will place you where you shall hear us confer of this, and by an auricular assurance have your satisfaction, and that without any further delay than this very evening.
GLOUCESTER  He cannot be such a monster—
EDMUND  Nor is not, sure.
GLOUCESTER  —to his father, that so tenderly and entirely loves him. Heaven and earth Edmund, seek him out, wind me into him, I pray you frame the business after your own wisdom. I would unstate myself to be in a due resolution.
EDMUND  I will seek him, sir, presently, convey the business as I shall find means, and acquaint you withal.
GLOUCESTER  These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us though the wisdom of nature can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself scourged by the sequent effects. Love cools, friendship falls off, brothers divide in cities, mutinies, in countries, discord, in palaces, treason, and the bond cracked between son and father. This villain of mine comes under the prediction, theres son against father the king falls from bias of nature, theres father against child. We have seen the best of our time machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all ruinous disorders, follow us disquietly to our graves. Find out this villain, Edmund, it shall lose thee nothing do it carefully. And the noble and true-hearted Kent banished his offence, honesty Tis strange
EDMUND  This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune,—often the surfeit of our own behaviour,—we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars, as if we were villains by necessity, fools by heavenly compulsion, knaves, thieves, and treachers by spherical predominance, drunkards, liars, and adulterers by an enforced obedience of planetary influence, and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on an admirable evasion of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish disposition to the charge of a star My father compounded with my mother under the dragons tail, and my nativity was under ursa major, so that it follows I am rough and lecherous. Sfoot I should have been that I am had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing. Edgar—
EDGAR  How now, brother Edmund What serious contemplation are you in?
EDMUND  I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read this other day, what should follow these eclipses.
EDGAR  Do you busy yourself with that?
EDMUND  I promise you the effects he writes of succeed unhappily, as of unnaturalness between the child and the parent, death, dearth, dissolutions of ancient amities, divisions in state, menaces and maledictions against king and nobles, needless diffidences, banishment of friends, dissipation of cohorts, nuptial breaches, and I know not what.
EDGAR  How long have you been a sectary astronomical?
EDMUND  Come, come, when saw you my father last?
EDGAR  The night gone by.
EDMUND  Spake you with him?
EDGAR  Ay, two hours together.
EDMUND  Parted you in good terms? Found you no displeasure in him by word or countenance?
EDGAR  None at all.
EDMUND  Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended him, and at my entreaty forbear his presence till some little time hath qualified the heat of his displeasure, which at this instant so rageth in him that with the mischief of your person it would scarcely allay.
EDGAR  Some villain hath done me wrong.
EDMUND  Thats my fear. I pray you have a continent forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower, and, as I say, retire with me to my lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord speak. Pray you, go, theres my key. If you do stir abroad, go armed.
EDGAR  Armed, brother
EDMUND  Brother, I advise you to the best, go armed, I am no honest man if there be any good meaning toward you, I have told you what I have seen and heard, but faintly, nothing like the image and horror of it, pray you, away.
EDGAR  Shall I hear from you anon?
EDMUND  I do serve you in this business. A credulous father, and a brother noble, Whose nature is so far from doing harms That he suspects none, on whose foolish honesty My practices ride easy I see the business. Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit All with mes meet that I can fashion fit.
GONERIL  Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his fool?
OSWALD  Ay, madam.
GONERIL  By day and night he wrongs me, every hour He flashes into one gross crime or other, That sets us all at odds Ill not endure it His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us On every trifle. When he returns from hunting I will not speak with him, say I am sick If you come slack of former services, You shall do well, the fault of it Ill answer.
OSWALD  Hes coming, madam, I hear him.
GONERIL  Put on what weary negligence you please, You and your fellows, Id have it come to question If he distaste it, let him to my sister, Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one, Not to be over-ruld. Idle old man, That still would manage those authorities That he hath given away Now, by my life, Old fools are babes again, and must be usd With cheeks as flatteries, when they are seen abusd. Remember what I have said.
OSWALD  Well, madam.
GONERIL  And let his knights have colder looks among you, What grown of it, no matter, advise your fellows so I would breed from hence occasions, and I shall, That I may speak Ill write straight to my sister To hold my very source. Prepare for dinner.
KENT  If but as well I other accents borrow, That can my speech diffuse, my good intent May carry through itself to that full issue For which I razd my likeness. Now, banishd Kent, If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemnd, So may it come, thy master, whom thou lovst, Shall find thee full of labours.
KENT  A man, sir.
LEAR  What dost thou profess? What wouldst thou with us?
KENT  I do profess to be no less than I seem, to serve him truly that will put me in trust, to love him that is honest, to converse with him that is wise, and says little, to fear judgment, to fight when I cannot choose, and to eat no fish.
LEAR  What art thou?
KENT  A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the king.
LEAR  If thou be as poor for a subject as he is for a king, thou art poor enough. What wouldst thou?
KENT  Service.
LEAR  Whom wouldst thou serve?
KENT  You.
LEAR  Dost thou know me, fellow?
KENT  No, sir, but you have that in your countenance which I would fain call master.
LEAR  Whats that?
KENT  Authority.
LEAR  What services canst thou do?
KENT  I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious tale in telling it, and deliver a plain message bluntly, that which ordinary men are fit for, I am qualified in, and the best of me is diligence.
LEAR  How old art thou?
KENT  Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor so old to dote on her for any thing, I have years on my back forty-eight.
LEAR  Follow me, thou shalt serve me, if I like thee no worse after dinner I will not part from thee yet. Dinner, ho dinner Wheres my knave? my fool? Go you and call my fool hither.
OSWALD  So please you,—
KNIGHT  He says, my lord, your daughter is not well.
LEAR  Why came not the slave back to me when I called him?
KNIGHT  Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he would not.
LEAR  He would not
KNIGHT  My lord, I know not what the matter is, but, to my judgment, your highness is not entertained with that ceremonious affection as you were wont, theres a great abatement of kindness appears as well in the general dependants as in the duke himself also and your daughter.
LEAR  Ha sayest thou so?
KNIGHT  I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken, for my duty cannot be silent when I think your highness wronged.
LEAR  Thou but rememberest me of mine own conception I have perceived a most faint neglect of late, which I have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity than as a very pretence and purpose of unkindness I will look further into t. But wheres my fool? I have not seen him this two days.
KNIGHT  Since my young ladys going into France, sir, the fool hath much pined him away.
OSWALD  My ladys father.
LEAR  My ladys father my lords knave you whoreson dog you slave you cur
OSWALD  I am none of these, my lord, I beseech your pardon.
LEAR  Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?
OSWALD  Ill not be struck, my lord.
KENT  Nor tripped neither, you base football player.
LEAR  I thank thee, fellow, thou servest me, and Ill love thee.
KENT  Come, sir, arise, away Ill teach you differences away, away If you will measure your lubbers length again, tarry, but away Go to, have you wisdom? so.
FOOL  Let me hire him too heres my coxcomb.
LEAR  How now, my pretty knave how dost thou?
FOOL  Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb.
KENT  Why, fool?
FOOL  Why? for taking ones part thats out of favour. Nay, an thou canst not smile as the wind sits, thoult catch cold shortly there, take my coxcomb. Why, this fellow has banished two on s daughters, and did the third a blessing against his will if thou follow him thou must needs wear my coxcomb. How now, nuncle Would I had two coxcombs and two daughters
LEAR  Why, my boy?
FOOL  If I gave them all my living, Id keep my coxcombs myself. Theres mine, beg another of thy daughters.
LEAR  Take heed, sirrah, the whip.
FOOL  Truths a dog must to kennel, he must be whipped out when Lady the brach may stand by the fire and stink.
LEAR  A pestilent gall to me
LEAR  Do.
FOOL  Mark it, nuncle— Have more than thou showest, Speak less than thou knowest, Lend less than thou owest, Ride more than thou goest, Learn more than thou trowest, Set less than thou throwest, Leave thy drink and thy whore, And keep in-a-door, And thou shalt have more Than two tens to a score.
KENT  This is nothing, fool.
FOOL  Then tis like the breath of an unfeed lawyer, you gave me nothing for t. Can you make no use of nothing, nuncle?
LEAR  Why, no, boy, nothing can be made out of nothing.
LEAR  A bitter fool
FOOL  Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a bitter fool and a sweet fool?
LEAR  No, lad, teach me.
FOOL  That lord that counselld thee To give away thy land, Come place him here by me, Do thou for him stand The sweet and bitter fool Will presently appear, The one in motley here, The other found out there.
LEAR  Dost thou call me fool, boy?
FOOL  All thy other titles thou hast given away, that thou wast born with.
KENT  This is not altogether fool, my lord.
FOOL  No, faith, lords and great men will not let me, if I had a monopoly out, they would have part on t, and ladies too they will not let me have all fool to myself, theyll be snatching. Nuncle, give me an egg, and Ill give thee two crowns.
LEAR  What two crowns shall they be?
FOOL  Why, after I have cut the egg i the middle and eat up the meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou clovest thy crown i the middle, and gavest away both parts, thou borest thine ass on thy back oer the dirt thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown when thou gavest thy golden one away. If I speak like myself in this, let him be whipped that first finds it so. Fools had neer less grace in a year, For wise men are grown foppish, And know not how their wits to wear, Their manners are so apish.
LEAR  When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah?
FOOL  I have used it, nuncle, ever since thou madest thy daughters thy mothers, for when thou gavest them the rod and puttest down thine own breeches, Then they for sudden joy did weep, And I for sorrow sung, That such a king should play bo-peep, And go the fools among. Prithee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach thy fool to lie I would fain learn to lie.
LEAR  An you lie, sirrah, well have you whipped.
FOOL  I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are theyll have me whipped for speaking true, thoult have me whipped for lying, and sometimes I am whipped for holding my peace. I had rather be any kind o thing than a fool, and yet I would not be thee, nuncle, thou hast pared thy wit o both sides, and left nothing i the middle here comes one o the parings.
LEAR  How now, daughter what makes that frontlet on? Methinks you are too much of late i the frown.
GONERIL  Not only, sir, this your all-licensd fool, But other of your insolent retinue Do hourly carp and quarrel, breaking forth In rank and not-to-be-endured riots. Sir, I had thought, by making this well known unto you, To have found a safe redress, but now grow fearful, By what yourself too late have spoke and done. That you protect this course, and put it on By your allowance, which if you should, the fault Would not scape censure, nor the redresses sleep, Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal, Might in their working do you that offence, Which else were shame, that then necessity Will call discreet proceeding.
FOOL  For you trow, nuncle, The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, That it had it head bit off by it young. So out went the candle, and we were left darkling.
LEAR  Are you our daughter?
GONERIL  I would you would make use of your good wisdom, Whereof I know you are fraught, and put away These dispositions which of late transform you From what you rightly are.
FOOL  May not an ass know when the cart draws the horse? Whoop, Jug I love thee.
LEAR  Does any here know me? This is not Lear Does Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are his eyes? Either his notion weakens, his discernings Are lethargied. Ha waking? tis not so. Who is it that can tell me who I am?
FOOL  Lears shadow.
LEAR  I would learn that, for, by the marks of sovereignty, knowledge and reason, I should be false persuaded I had daughters.
FOOL  Which they will make an obedient father.
LEAR  Your name, fair gentlewoman?
GONERIL  This admiration, sir, is much o the favour Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you To understand my purposes aright As you are old and reverend, should be wise. Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires, Men so disorderd, so deboshd, and bold, That this our court, infected with their manners, Shows like a riotous inn epicurism and lust Make it more like a tavern or a brothel Than a gracd palace. The shame itself doth speak For instant remedy, be then desird By her that else will take the thing she begs, A little to disquantity your train, And the remainder, that shall still depend, To be such men as may besort your age, Which know themselves and you.
LEAR  Darkness and devils Saddle my horses, call my train together. Degenerate bastard Ill not trouble thee Yet have I left a daughter.
GONERIL  You strike my people, and your disorderd rabble Make servants of their betters.
ALBANY  Pray, sir, be patient.
ALBANY  My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant Of what hath movd you.
LEAR  It may be so, my lord. Hear, Nature, hear dear goddess, hear Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend To make this creature fruitful Into her womb convey sterility Dry up in her the organs of increase, And from her derogate body never spring A babe to honour her If she must teem, Create her child of spleen, that it may live And be a thwart disnaturd torment to her Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth, With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks, Turn all her mothers pains and benefits To laughter and contempt, that she may feel How sharper than a serpents tooth it is To have a thankless child Away, away
ALBANY  Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this?
GONERIL  Never afflict yourself to know the cause, But let his disposition have that scope That dotage gives it.
LEAR  What fifty of my followers at a clap, Within a fortnight?
ALBANY  Whats the matter, sir?
GONERIL  Do you mark that?
ALBANY  I cannot be so partial, Goneril, To the great love I bear you.—
FOOL  Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear tarry, and take the fool with thee. A fox, when one has caught her, And such a daughter, Should sure to the slaughter, If my cap would buy a halter, So the fool follows after.
GONERIL  This man hath had good counsel. A hundred knights Tis politic and safe to let him keep At point a hundred knights, yes, that on every dream, Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike, He may enguard his dotage with their powers, And hold our lives in mercy. Oswald, I say
ALBANY  Well, you may fear too far.
OSWALD  Ay, madam.
GONERIL  Take you some company, and away to horse Inform her full of my particular fear, And thereto add such reasons of your own As may compact it more. Get you gone, This milky gentleness and course of yours Though I condemn not, yet, under pardon, You are much more attaskd for want of wisdom Than praisd for harmful mildness.
ALBANY  How far your eyes may pierce I cannot tell Striving to better, oft we mar whats well.
GONERIL  Nay, then—
ALBANY  Well, well, the event.
LEAR  Go you before to Gloucester with these letters. Acquaint my daughter no further with any thing you know than comes from her demand out of the letter. If your diligence be not speedy I shall be there before you.
KENT  I will not sleep, my lord, till I have delivered your letter.
FOOL  If a mans brains were in s heels, weret not in danger of kibes?
LEAR  Ay, boy.
FOOL  Then, I prithee, be merry, thy wit shall not go slip-shod.
LEAR  Ha, ha, ha
FOOL  Shalt see thy other daughter will use thee kindly, for though shes as like this as a crab is like an apple, yet I can tell what I can tell.
LEAR  What canst tell, boy?
FOOL  She will taste as like this as a crab does to a crab. Thou canst tell why ones nose stands i the middle on s face?
LEAR  No.
FOOL  Why, to keep ones eyes of either sides nose, that what a man cannot smell out, he may spy into.
LEAR  I did her wrong,—
FOOL  Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell?
LEAR  No.
FOOL  Nor I neither, but I can tell why a snail has a house.
LEAR  Why?
FOOL  Why, to put his head in, not to give it away to his daughters, and leave his horns without a case.
LEAR  I will forget my nature. So kind a father Be my horses ready?
FOOL  Thy asses are gone about em. The reason why the seven stars are no more than seven is a pretty reason.
LEAR  Because they are not eight?
FOOL  Yes, indeed thou wouldst make a good fool.
LEAR  To take it again perforce Monster ingratitude
FOOL  If thou wert my fool, nuncle, Id have thee beaten for being old before thy time.
LEAR  Hows that?
FOOL  Thou shouldst not have been old before thou hadst been wise.
LEAR  O let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven, Keep me in temper, I would not be mad
GENTLEMAN  Ready, my lord.
LEAR  Come, boy.
FOOL  She thats a maid now, and laughs at my departure, Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter.
EDMUND  Save thee, Curan.
CURAN  And you, sir. I have been with your father, and given him notice that the Duke of Cornwall and Regan his duchess will be here with him to-night.
EDMUND  How comes that?
CURAN  Nay, I know not. You have heard of the news abroad? I mean the whispered ones, for they are yet but ear-kissing arguments?
EDMUND  Not I pray you, what are they?
CURAN  Have you heard of no likely wars toward, twixt the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany?
EDMUND  Not a word.
CURAN  You may do then, in time. Fare you well, sir.
EDGAR  I am sure on t, not a word.
GLOUCESTER  Now, Edmund, wheres the villain?
EDMUND  Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out, Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon To stand auspicious mistress.
GLOUCESTER  But where is he?
EDMUND  Look, sir, I bleed.
GLOUCESTER  Where is the villain, Edmund?
EDMUND  Fled this way, sir. When by no means he could—
EDMUND  Persuade me to the murder of your lordship, But that I told him, the revenging gods Gainst parricides did all their thunders bend, Spoke with how manifold and strong a bond The child was bound to the father, sir, in fine, Seeing how loathly opposite I stood To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion, With his prepared sword he charges home My unprovided body, lancd mine arm But when he saw my best alarumd spirits Bold in the quarrels right, rousd to the encounter, Or whether gasted by the noise I made, Full suddenly he fled.
GLOUCESTER  Let him fly far Not in this land shall he remain uncaught, And found—dispatch. The noble duke my master, My worthy arch and patron, comes to-night By his authority I will proclaim it, That he which finds him shall deserve our thanks, Bringing the murderous coward to the stake, He that conceals him, death.
EDMUND  When I dissuaded him from his intent, And found him pight to do it, with curst speech I threatend to discover him he replied, Thou unpossessing bastard dost thou think, If I would stand against thee, would the reposal Of any trust, virtue, or worth, in thee Make thy words faithd? No what I should deny,— As this I would, ay, though thou didst produce My very character,—Id turn it all To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practice And thou must make a dullard of the world, If they not thought the profits of my death Were very pregnant and potential spurs To make thee seek it.
CORNWALL  How now, my noble friend since I came hither,— Which I can call but now,—I have heard strange news.
REGAN  If it be true, all vengeance comes too short Which can pursue the offender. How dost, my lord?
GLOUCESTER  O madam, my old heart is crackd, its crackd.
REGAN  What did my fathers godson seek your life? He whom my father namd? your Edgar?
GLOUCESTER  O lady, lady, shame would have it hid.
REGAN  Was he not companion with the riotous knights That tend upon my father?
GLOUCESTER  I know not, madam, tis too bad, too bad.
EDMUND  Yes, madam, he was of that consort.
REGAN  No marvel then though he were ill affected, Tis they have put him on the old mans death, To have the expense and waste of his revenues. I have this present evening from my sister Been well-informd of them, and with such cautions That if they come to sojourn at my house, Ill not be there.
CORNWALL  Nor I, assure thee, Regan. Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father A child-like office.
EDMUND  Twas my duty, sir.
GLOUCESTER  He did bewray his practice, and receivd This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.
CORNWALL  Is he pursud?
GLOUCESTER  Ay, my good lord.
CORNWALL  If he be taken he shall never more Be feard of doing harm, make your own purpose, How in my strength you please. For you, Edmund, Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant So much commend itself, you shall be ours Natures of such deep trust we shall much need, You we first seize on.
EDMUND  I shall serve you, sir, Truly, however else.
GLOUCESTER  For him I thank your Grace.
CORNWALL  You know not why we came to visit you,—
REGAN  Thus out of season, threading dark-eyd night Occasions, noble Gloucester, of some prize, Wherein we must have use of your advice. Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister, Of differences, which I best thought it fit To answer from our home, the several messengers From hence attend dispatch. Our good old friend, Lay comforts to your bosom, and bestow Your needful counsel to our businesses, Which craves the instant use.
GLOUCESTER  I serve you, madam. Your Graces are right welcome.
OSWALD  Good dawning to thee, friend art of this house?
KENT  Ay.
OSWALD  Where may we set our horses?
KENT  I the mire.
OSWALD  Prithee, if thou lovest me, tell me.
KENT  I love thee not.
OSWALD  Why, then I care not for thee.
KENT  If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would make thee care for me.
OSWALD  Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not.
KENT  Fellow, I know thee.
OSWALD  What dost thou know me for?
KENT  A knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats, a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave, a lily-liverd, action-taking knave, a whoreson, glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue, one-trunk-inheriting slave, one that wouldst be a bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch one whom I will beat into clamorous whining if thou deniest the least syllable of thy addition.
OSWALD  Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to rail on one that is neither known of thee nor knows thee
OSWALD  Away I have nothing to do with thee.
KENT  Draw, you rascal, you come with letters against the king, and take vanity the pupets part against the royalty of her father. Draw, you rogue, or Ill so carbonado your shanks draw, you rascal, come your ways.
OSWALD  Help, ho murder help
KENT  Strike, you slave, stand, rogue, stand, you neat slave, strike.
OSWALD  Help, oh murder murder
EDMUND  How now Whats the matter?
KENT  With you, goodman boy, if you please come, Ill flesh ye, come on, young master.
GLOUCESTER  Weapons arms Whats the matter here?
CORNWALL  Keep peace, upon your lives He dies that strikes again. What is the matter?
REGAN  The messengers from our sister and the king.
CORNWALL  What is your difference? speak.
OSWALD  I am scarce in breath, my lord.
KENT  No marvel, you have so bestirred your valour. You cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in thee a tailor made thee.
CORNWALL  Thou art a strange fellow, a tailor make a man?
KENT  Ay, a tailor, sir a stone-cutter or a painter could not have made him so ill, though they had been but two hours o the trade.
CORNWALL  Speak yet, how grew your quarrel?
OSWALD  This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spard at suit of his grey beard,—
KENT  Thou whoreson zed thou unnecessary letter My lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this unbolted villain into mortar, and daub the wall of a jakes with him. Spare my grey beard, you wagtail?
CORNWALL  Peace, sirrah You beastly knave, know you no reverence?
KENT  Yes, sir, but anger hath a privilege.
CORNWALL  Why art thou angry?
KENT  That such a slave as this should wear a sword, Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these, Like rats, oft bite the holy cords a-twain Which are too intrinse t unloose, smooth every passion That in the natures of their lords rebel, Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods, Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks With every gale and vary of their masters, Knowing nought, like dogs, but following. A plague upon your epileptic visage Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool? Goose, if I had you upon Sarum plain, Id drive ye cackling home to Camelot.
CORNWALL  What art thou mad, old fellow?
GLOUCESTER  How fell you out? say that.
KENT  No contraries hold more antipathy Than I and such a knave.
CORNWALL  Why dost thou call him knave? What is his fault?
KENT  His countenance likes me not.
CORNWALL  No more, perchance, does mine, nor his, nor hers.
KENT  Sir, tis my occupation to be plain I have seen better faces in my time Than stands on any shoulder that I see Before me at this instant.
CORNWALL  This is some fellow, Who, having been praisd for bluntness, doth affect A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb Quite from his nature he cannot flatter, he, An honest mind and plain, he must speak truth An they will take it, so, if not, hes plain. These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness Harbour more craft and more corrupter ends Than twenty silly-ducking observants, That stretch their duties nicely.
KENT  Sir, in good sooth, in sincere verity, Under the allowance of your grand aspect, Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire On flickering Phœbus front,—
CORNWALL  What meanst by this?
KENT  To go out of my dialect, which you discommend so much. I know, sir, I am no flatterer he that beguiled you in a plain accent was a plain knave, which for my part I will not be, though I should win your displeasure to entreat me to t.
CORNWALL  What was the offence you gave him?
OSWALD  I never gave him any It pleasd the king his master very late To strike at me, upon his misconstruction, When he, conjunct, and flattering his displeasure, Trippd me behind, being down, insulted, raild, And put upon him such a deal of man, That worthied him, got praises of the king For him attempting who was self-subdud, And, in the fleshment of this dread exploit, Drew on me here again.
KENT  None of these rogues and cowards But Ajax is their fool.
CORNWALL  Fetch forth the stocks You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend braggart, Well teach you.
KENT  Sir, I am too old to learn, Call not your stocks for me, I serve the king, On whose employment I was sent to you, You shall do small respect, show too bold malice Against the grace and person of my master, Stocking his messenger.
CORNWALL  Fetch forth the stocks As I have life and honour, There shall he sit till noon.
REGAN  Till noon Till night, my lord, and all night too.
KENT  Why, madam, if I were your fathers dog, You should not use me so.
REGAN  Sir, being his knave, I will.
CORNWALL  This is a fellow of the self-same colour Our sister speaks of. Come, bring away the stocks.
GLOUCESTER  Let me beseech your Grace not to do so. His fault is much, and the good king his master Will check him fort your purposd low correction Is such as basest and contemnedst wretches For pilferings and most common trespasses Are punishd with the king must take it ill, That he, so slightly valud in his messenger, Should have him thus restraind.
CORNWALL  Ill answer that.
GLOUCESTER  I am sorry for thee, friend, tis the dukes pleasure, Whose disposition, all the world well knows, Will not be rubbd nor stoppd, Ill entreat for thee.
KENT  Pray, do not, sir. I have watchd and travelld hard, Some time I shall sleep out, the rest Ill whistle. A good mans fortune may grow out at heels Give you good morrow
GLOUCESTER  The dukes to blame in this, twill be ill taken.
KENT  Good king, that must approve the common saw, Thou out of heavens benediction comst To the warm sun. Approach, thou beacon to this under globe, That by thy comfortable beams I may Peruse this letter. Nothing almost sees miracles But misery I know tis from Cordelia, Who hath most fortunately been informd Of my obscured course, and shall find time From this enormous state, seeking to give Losses their remedies. All weary and oerwatchd, Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold This shameful lodging. Fortune, good night, smile once more, turn thy wheel
EDGAR  I heard myself proclaimd, And by the happy hollow of a tree Escapd the hunt. No port is free, no place, That guard, and most unusual vigilance, Does not attend my taking. While I may scape I will preserve myself, and am bethought To take the basest and most poorest shape That ever penury, in contempt of man, Brought near to beast, my face Ill grime with filth, Blanket my loins, elf all my hair in knots, And with presented nakedness outface The winds and persecutions of the sky. The country gives me proof and precedent Of Bedlam beggars, who with roaring voices, Strike in their numbd and mortified bare arms Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary, And with this horrible object, from low farms, Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes, and mills, Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers, Enforce their charity. Poor Turlygood poor Tom Thats something yet Edgar I nothing am.
LEAR  Tis strange that they should so depart from home, And not send back my messenger.
GENTLEMAN  As I learnd, The night before there was no purpose in them Of this remove.
KENT  Hail to thee, noble master
LEAR  Ha Makst thou this shame thy pastime?
KENT  No, my lord.
FOOL  Ha, ha he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied by the head, dogs and bears by the neck, monkeys by the loins, and men by the legs when a man is over-lusty at legs, then he wears wooden nether-stocks.
LEAR  Whats he that hath so much thy place mistook To set thee here?
KENT  It is both he and she, Your son and daughter.
LEAR  No.
KENT  Yes.
LEAR  No, I say.
KENT  I say, yea.
LEAR  No, no, they would not.
KENT  Yes, they have.
LEAR  By Jupiter, I swear, no.
KENT  By Juno, I swear, ay.
LEAR  They durst not dot, They could not, would not do t, tis worse than murder, To do upon respect such violent outrage. Resolve me, with all modest haste, which way Thou mightst deserve, or they impose, this usage, Coming from us.
KENT  My lord, when at their home I did commend your highness letters to them, Ere I was risen from the place that showd My duty kneeling, there came a reeking post, Stewd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth From Goneril his mistress salutations, Deliverd letters, spite of intermission, Which presently they read on whose contents They summond up their meiny, straight took horse, Commanded me to follow, and attend The leisure of their answer, gave me cold looks And meeting here the other messenger, Whose welcome, I perceivd, had poisond mine,— Being the very fellow which of late Displayd so saucily against your highness,— Having more man than wit about me,—drew He raisd the house with loud and coward cries. Your son and daughter found this trespass worth The shame which here it suffers.
FOOL  Winters not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way. Fathers that wear rags Do make their children blind, But fathers that bear bags Shall see their children kind. Fortune, that arrant whore, Neer turns the key to the poor. But for all this thou shalt have as many dolours for thy daughters as thou canst tell in a year.
LEAR  O how this mother swells up toward my heart, Hysterica passio down, thou climbing sorrow Thy elements below. Where is this daughter?
KENT  With the earl, sir here within.
LEAR  Follow me not, stay here.
GENTLEMAN  Made you no more offence than what you speak of?
KENT  None. How chance the king comes with so small a number?
FOOL  An thou hadst been set i the stocks for that question, thou hadst well deserved it.
KENT  Why, fool?
FOOL  Well set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee theres no labouring i the winter. All that follow their noses are led by their eyes but blind men, and theres not a nose among twenty but can smell him thats stinking. Let go thy hold when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following it, but the great one that goes up the hill, let him draw thee after. When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again I would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it. That sir which serves and seeks for gain, And follows but for form, Will pack when it begins to rain, And leave thee in the storm. But I will tarry, the fool will stay, And let the wise man fly The knave turns fool that runs away, The fool no knave, perdy.
KENT  Where learnd you this, fool?
FOOL  Not i the stocks, fool.
LEAR  Deny to speak with me They are sick they are weary, They have travelld hard to-night Mere fetches, The images of revolt and flying off. Fetch me a better answer.
GLOUCESTER  My dear lord, You know the fiery quality of the duke, How unremovable and fixd he is In his own course.
LEAR  Vengeance plague death confusion Fiery what quality? Why, Gloucester, Gloucester, Id speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife.
GLOUCESTER  Well, my good lord, I have informd them so.
LEAR  Informd them Dost thou understand me, man?
GLOUCESTER  Ay, my good lord.
GLOUCESTER  I would have all well betwixt you.
LEAR  O, me my heart, my rising heart but, down
FOOL  Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels when she put em i the paste alive, she knapped em o the coxcombs with a stick, and cried, Down, wantons, down Twas her brother that, in pure kindness to his horse, buttered his hay.
LEAR  Good morrow to you both.
CORNWALL  Hail to your Grace
REGAN  I am glad to see your highness.
REGAN  I pray you, sir, take patience. I have hope You less know how to value her desert Than she to scant her duty.
LEAR  Say, how is that?
REGAN  I cannot think my sister in the least Would fail her obligation if, sir, perchance She have restraind the riots of your followers, Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end, As clears her from all blame.
LEAR  My curses on her
REGAN  O, sir you are old, Nature in you stands on the very verge Of her confine you should be ruld and led By some discretion that discerns your state Better than you yourself. Therefore I pray you That to our sister you do make return, Say, you have wrongd her, sir.
Kneeling.  That youll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.
REGAN  Good sir, no more, these are unsightly tricks Return you to my sister.
Rising.  She hath abated me of half my train, Lookd black upon me, struck me with her tongue, Most serpent-like, upon the very heart. All the stord vengeances of heaven fall On her ingrateful top Strike her young bones, You taking airs, with lameness
CORNWALL  Fie, air, fie
LEAR  You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames Into her scornful eyes Infect her beauty, You fen-suckd fogs, drawn by the powerful sun, To fall and blast her pride
REGAN  O the blest gods So will you wish on me, When the rash mood is on.
LEAR  No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give Thee oer to harshness her eyes are fierce, but thine Do comfort and not burn. Tis not in thee To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train, To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes, And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt Against my coming in thou better knowst The offices of nature, bond of childhood, Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude, Thy half o the kingdom hast thou not forgot, Wherein I thee endowd.
REGAN  Good sir, to the purpose.
LEAR  Who put my man i the stocks?
CORNWALL  What trumpets that?
REGAN  I knowt, my sisters, this approves her letter, That she would soon be here. Is your lady come?
LEAR  This is a slave, whose easy-borrowd pride Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows. Out, varlet, from my sight
CORNWALL  What means your Grace?
GONERIL  Why not by the hand, sir? How have I offended? Alls not offence that indiscretion finds And dotage terms so.
LEAR  O sides you are too tough, Will you yet hold? How came my man i the stocks?
CORNWALL  I set him there, sir but his own disorders Deservd much less advancement.
LEAR  You did you?
REGAN  I pray you, father, being weak, seem so. If, till the expiration of your month, You will return and sojourn with my sister, Dismissing half your train, come then to me I am now from home, and out of that provision Which shall be needful for your entertainment.
LEAR  Return to her? and fifty men dismissd No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose To wage against the enmity o the air, To be a comrade with the wolf and owl, Necessitys sharp pinch Return with her Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took Our youngest born, I could as well be brought To knee his throne, and, squire-like, pension beg To keep base life afoot. Return with her Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter To this detested groom.
GONERIL  At your choice, sir.
LEAR  I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad I will not trouble thee, my child, farewell. Well no more meet, no more see one another, But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter, Or rather a disease thats in my flesh, Which I must needs call mine thou art a boil, A plague-sore, an embossed carbuncle, In my corrupted blood. But Ill not chide thee, Let shame come when it will, I do not call it I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot, Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove. Mend when thou canst, be better at thy leisure I can be patient, I can stay with Regan, I and my hundred knights.
REGAN  Not altogether so I lookd not for you yet, nor am provided For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister, For those that mingle reason with your passion Must be content to think you old, and so— But she knows what she does.
LEAR  Is this well spoken?
REGAN  I dare avouch it, sir what fifty followers? Is it not well? What should you need of more? Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger Speak gainst so great a number? How, in one house, Should many people, under two commands, Hold amity? Tis hard, almost impossible.
GONERIL  Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance From those that she calls servants, or from mine?
REGAN  Why not, my lord? If then they chancd to slack you We could control them. If you will come to me,— For now I spy a danger,—I entreat you To bring but five-and-twenty, to no more Will I give place or notice.
LEAR  I gave you all—
REGAN  And in good time you gave it
LEAR  Made you my guardians, my depositaries, But kept a reservation to be followd With such a number. What must I come to you With five-and-twenty? Regan, said you so?
REGAN  And speakt again, my lord, no more with me.
GONERIL  Hear me, my lord. What need you five-and-twenty, ten, or five, To follow in a house, where twice so many Have a command to tend you?
REGAN  What need one?
LEAR  O reason not the need, our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous Allow not nature more than nature needs, Mans life is cheap as beasts. Thou art a lady, If only to go warm were gorgeous, Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wearst, Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true need,— You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, As full of grief as age, wretched in both If it be you that stir these daughters hearts Against their father, fool me not so much To bear it tamely, touch me with noble anger, And let not womens weapons, water-drops, Stain my mans cheeks No, you unnatural hags, I will have such revenges on you both That all the world shall—I will do such things,— What they are yet I know not,—but they shall be The terrors of the earth. You think Ill weep, No, Ill not weep I have full cause of weeping, but this heart Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws Or ere Ill weep. O fool I shall go mad.
CORNWALL  Let us withdraw, twill be a storm.
REGAN  This house is little the old man and his people Cannot be well bestowd.
GONERIL  Tis his own blame, hath put himself from rest, And must needs taste his folly.
REGAN  For his particular, Ill receive him gladly, But not one follower.
GONERIL  So am I purposd. Where is my Lord of Gloucester?
CORNWALL  Followd the old man forth. He is returnd.
GLOUCESTER  The king is in high rage.
CORNWALL  Whither is he going?
GLOUCESTER  He calls to horse, but will I know not whither.
CORNWALL  Tis best to give him way, he leads himself.
GONERIL  My lord, entreat him by no means to stay.
GLOUCESTER  Alack the night comes on, and the bleak winds Do sorely ruffle, for many miles about Theres scarce a bush.
REGAN  O sir, to wilful men, The injuries that they themselves procure Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors, He is attended with a desperate train, And what they may incense him to, being apt To have his ear abusd, wisdom bids fear.
CORNWALL  Shut up your doors, my lord, tis a wild night My Regan counsels well come out o the storm.
KENT  Whos here, beside foul weather?
GENTLEMAN  One minded like the weather, most unquietly.
KENT  I know you. Wheres the king?
GENTLEMAN  Contending with the fretful elements, Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, Or swell the curled waters bove the main, That things might change or cease, tears his white hair, Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage, Catch in their fury, and make nothing of, Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain. This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch, The lion and the belly-pinched wolf Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs, And bids what will take all.
KENT  But who is with him?
GENTLEMAN  None but the fool, who labours to out-jest His heart-struck injuries.
KENT  Sir, I do know you, And dare, upon the warrant of my note, Commend a dear thing to you. There is division, Although as yet the face of it be coverd With mutual cunning, twixt Albany and Cornwall, Who have—as who have not, that their great stars Thrond and set high—servants, who seem no less, Which are to France the spies and speculations Intelligent of our state, what hath been seen, Either in snuffs and packings of the dukes, Or the hard rein which both of them have borne Against the old kind king, or something deeper, Whereof perchance these are but furnishings, But, true it is, from France there comes a power Into this scatterd kingdom, who already, Wise in our negligence, have secret feet In some of our best ports, and are at point To show their open banner. Now to you If on my credit you dare build so far To make your speed to Dover, you shall find Some that will thank you, making just report Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow The king hath cause to plain. I am a gentleman of blood and breeding, And from some knowledge and assurance offer This office to you.
GENTLEMAN  I will talk further with you.
KENT  No, do not. For confirmation that I am much more Than my out-wall, open this purse, and take What it contains. If you shall see Cordelia,— As doubt not but you shall,—show her this ring, And she will tell you who your fellow is That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm I will go seek the king.
GENTLEMAN  Give me your hand. Have you no more to say?
KENT  Few words, but, to effect, more than all yet, That, when we have found the king,—in which your pain That way, Ill this,—he that first lights on him Holla the other.
LEAR  Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks rage blow You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drenchd our steeples, drownd the cocks You sulphurous and thought-executing fires, Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, Singe my white head And thou, all-shaking thunder, Strike flat the thick rotundity o the world Crack natures moulds, all germens spill at once That make ingrateful man
FOOL  O nuncle, court holy-water in a dry house is better than this rain-water out o door. Good nuncle, in, and ask thy daughters blessing, heres a night pities neither wise man nor fool.
LEAR  Rumble thy bellyfull Spit, fire spout, rain Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness, I never gave you kingdom, calld you children, You owe me no subscription then, let fall Your horrible pleasure, here I stand, your slave, A poor, infirm, weak, and despisd old man. But yet I call you servile ministers, That have with two pernicious daughters joind Your high-engenderd battles gainst a head So old and white as this. O O tis foul.
FOOL  He that has a house to put his head in has a good head-piece. The cod-piece that will house Before the head has any, The head and he shall louse, So beggars marry many. The man that makes his toe What he his heart should make, Shall of a corn cry woe, And turn his sleep to wake. For there was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass.
LEAR  No, I will be the pattern of all patience, I will say nothing.
KENT  Whos there?
FOOL  Marry, heres grace and a cod-piece, thats a wise man and a fool.
KENT  Alas sir, are you here? things that love night Love not such nights as these, the wrathful skies Gallow the very wanderers of the dark, And make them keep their caves. Since I was man Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder, Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never Remember to have heard, mans nature cannot carry The affliction nor the fear.
LEAR  Let the great gods, That keep this dreadful pother oer our heads, Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, That hast within thee undivulged crimes, Unwhippd of justice, hide thee, thou bloody hand, Thou perjurd, and thou simular of virtue That art incestuous, caitiff, to pieces shake, That under covert and convenient seeming Hast practisd on mans life, close pent-up guilts, Rive your concealing continents, and cry These dreadful summoners grace. I am a man More sinnd against than sinning.
KENT  Alack bare-headed Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel, Some friendship will it lend you gainst the tempest, Repose you there while I to this hard house,— More harder than the stone whereof tis raisd,— Which even but now, demanding after you, Denied me to come in, return and force Their scanted courtesy.
LEAR  My wits begin to turn. Come on, my boy. How dost, my boy? Art cold? I am cold myself. Where is this straw, my fellow? The art of our necessities is strange, That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel. Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart Thats sorry yet for thee.
FOOL  He that has a little tiny wit, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, Must make content with his fortunes fit, Though the rain it raineth every day.
LEAR  True, my good boy. Come, bring us to this hovel.
FOOL  This is a brave night to cool a courtezan. Ill speak a prophecy ere I go When priests are more in word than matter, When brewers mar their malt with water, When nobles are their tailors tutors, No heretics burnd, but wenches suitors, When every case in law is right, No squire in debt, nor no poor knight, When slanders do not live in tongues, Nor cutpurses come not to throngs, When usurers tell their gold i the field, And bawds and whores do churches build, Then shall the realm of Albion Come to great confusion Then comes the time, who lives to see t, That going shall be usd with feet. This prophecy Merlin shall make, for I live before his time.
GLOUCESTER  Alack, alack Edmund, I like not this unnatural dealing. When I desired their leave that I might pity him, they took from me the use of mine own house, charged me, on pain of their perpetual displeasure, neither to speak of him, entreat for him, nor any way sustain him.
EDMUND  Most savage, and unnatural
GLOUCESTER  Go to, say you nothing. There is division between the dukes, and a worse matter than that. I have received a letter this night, tis dangerous to be spoken, I have locked the letter in my closet. These injuries the king now bears will be revenged home, theres part of a power already footed, we must incline to the king. I will seek him and privily relieve him, go you and maintain talk with the duke, that my charity be not of him perceived. If he ask for me, I am ill and gone to bed. If I die for it, as no less is threatened me, the king, my old master, must be relieved. There is some strange thing toward, Edmund, pray you, be careful.
EDMUND  This courtesy, forbid thee, shall the duke Instantly know, and of that letter too This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me That which my father loses, no less than all The younger rises when the old doth fall.
KENT  Here is the place, my lord, good my lord, enter The tyranny of the open nights too rough For nature to endure.
LEAR  Let me alone.
KENT  Good my lord, enter here.
LEAR  Wilt break my heart?
KENT  Id rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter.
LEAR  Thou thinkst tis much that this contentious storm Invades us to the skin so tis to thee, But where the greater malady is fixd, The lesser is scarce felt. Thoudst shun a bear, But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea, Thoudst meet the bear i the mouth. When the minds free The bodys delicate, the tempest in my mind Doth from my senses take all feeling else Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand For lifting food to t? But I will punish home No, I will weep no more. In such a night To shut me out Pour on, I will endure. In such a night as this O Regan, Goneril Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all,— O that way madness lies, let me shun that, No more of that.
KENT  Good, my lord, enter here.
FOOL  Come not in here, nuncle, heres a spirit. Help me help me
KENT  Give me thy hand. Whos there?
FOOL  A spirit, a spirit he says his names poor Tom.
KENT  What art thou that dost grumble there i the straw? Come forth.
EDGAR  Away the foul fiend follows me Through the sharp hawthorn blow the winds. Hum go to thy cold bed and warm thee.
LEAR  Didst thou give all to thy two daughters? And art thou come to this?
EDGAR  Who gives anything to poor Tom? whom the foul fiend hath led through fire and through flame, through ford and whirlpool, oer bog and quagmire, that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters in his pew, set ratsbane by his porridge, made him proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting-horse over four-inched bridges, to course his own shadow for a traitor. Bless thy five wits Toms a-cold. O do de, do de, do de. Bless thee from whirlwinds, starblasting, and taking Do poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes. There could I have him now, and there, and there again, and there.
LEAR  What have his daughters brought him to this pass? Couldst thou save nothing? Didst thou give them all?
FOOL  Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been all shamed.
LEAR  Now all the plagues that in the pendulous air Hang fated oer mens faults light on thy daughters
KENT  He hath no daughters, sir.
LEAR  Death, traitor nothing could have subdud nature To such a lowness, but his unkind daughters. Is it the fashion that discarded fathers Should have thus little mercy on their flesh? Judicious punishment twas this flesh begot Those pelican daughters.
EDGAR  Pillicock sat on Pillicock-hill Halloo, halloo, loo, loo
FOOL  This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.
EDGAR  Take heed o the foul fiend. Obey thy parents, keep thy word justly, swear not, commit not with mans sworn spouse, set not thy sweet heart on proud array. Toms a-cold.
LEAR  What hast thou been?
EDGAR  A servingman, proud in heart and mind, that curled my hair, wore gloves in my cap, served the lust of my mistresss heart, and did the act of darkness with her, swore as many oaths as I spake words, and broke them in the sweet face of heaven, one that slept in the contriving of lust, and waked to do it. Wine loved I deeply, dice dearly, and in woman out-paramoured the Turk false of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand, hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of silks betray thy poor heart to woman keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from lenders books, and defy the foul fiend. Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind, says suum, mun ha no nonny. Dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa let him trot by.
LEAR  Why, thou wert better in thy grave than to answer with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies. Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha heres three ons are sophisticated, thou art the thing itself, unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings Come, unbutton here.
FOOL  Prithee, nuncle, be contented, tis a naughty night to swim in. Now a little fire in a wide field were like an old lechers heart, a small spark, all the rest ons body cold. Look here comes a walking fire.
EDGAR  This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet he begins at curfew, and walks till the first cock, he gives the web and the pin, squints the eye, and makes the harelip, mildews the white wheat, and hurts the poor creature of earth. Swithold footed thrice the old, He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold, Bid her alight, And her troth plight, And aroint thee, witch, aroint thee
KENT  How fares your Grace?
LEAR  Whats he?
KENT  Whos there? What ist you seek?
GLOUCESTER  What are you there? Your names?
EDGAR  Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the tadpole, the wall-newt, and the water, that in the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for sallets, swallows the old rat and the ditch-dog, drinks the green mantle of the standing pool, who is whipped from tithing to tithing, and stock-punished, and imprisoned, who hath had three suits to his back, six shirts to his body, horse to ride, and weapon to wear, But mice and rats and such small deer Have been Toms food for seven long year. Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin peace, thou fiend.
GLOUCESTER  What hath your Grace no better company?
EDGAR  The prince of darkness is a gentleman, Modo hes calld, and Mahu.
GLOUCESTER  Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vile, That it doth hate what gets it.
EDGAR  Poor Toms a-cold.
GLOUCESTER  Go in with me. My duty cannot suffer To obey in all your daughters hard commands Though their injunction be to bar my doors, And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you, Yet have I venturd to come seek you out And bring you where both fire and food is ready.
LEAR  First let me talk with this philosopher. What is the cause of thunder?
KENT  Good my lord, take his offer, go into the house.
LEAR  Ill talk a word with this same learned Theban. What is your study?
EDGAR  How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin.
LEAR  Let me ask you one word in private.
KENT  Importune him once more to go, my lord, His wits begin to unsettle.
LEAR  O cry you mercy, sir. Noble philosopher, your company.
EDGAR  Toms a-cold.
GLOUCESTER  In, fellow, there, into the hovel keep thee warm.
LEAR  Come, lets in all.
KENT  This way, my lord.
LEAR  With him, I will keep still with my philosopher.
KENT  Good my lord, soothe him, let him take the fellow.
GLOUCESTER  Take him you on.
KENT  Sirrah, come on, go along with us.
LEAR  Come, good Athenian.
GLOUCESTER  No words, no words hush.
EDGAR  Child Rowland to the dark tower came, His word was still, Fie, foh, and fum, I smell the blood of a British man.
CORNWALL  I will have my revenge ere I depart his house.
EDMUND  How, my lord, I may be censured, that nature thus gives way to loyalty, something fears me to think of.
CORNWALL  I now perceive it was not altogether your brothers evil disposition made him seek his death, but a provoking merit, set a-work by a reproveable badness in himself.
EDMUND  How malicious is my fortune, that I must repent to be just This is the letter he spoke of, which approves him an intelligent party to the advantages of France. O heavens that this treason were not, or not I the detector
CORNWALL  Go with me to the duchess.
EDMUND  If the matter of this paper be certain, you have mighty business in hand.
CORNWALL  True, or false, it hath made thee Earl of Gloucester. Seek out where thy father is, that he may be ready for our apprehension.
CORNWALL  I will lay trust upon thee, and thou shalt find a dearer father in my love.
GLOUCESTER  Here is better than the open air, take it thankfully. I will piece out the comfort with what addition I can I will not be long from you.
KENT  All the power of his wits has given way to his impatience. The gods reward your kindness
EDGAR  Frateretto calls me, and tells me Nero is an angler in the lake of darkness. Pray, innocent, and beware the foul fiend.
FOOL  Prithee, nuncle, tell me whether a madman be a gentleman or a yeoman
LEAR  A king, a king
FOOL  No, hes a yeoman that has a gentleman to his son, for hes a mad yeoman that sees his son a gentleman before him.
LEAR  To have a thousand with red burning spits Come hizzing in upon em,—
EDGAR  The foul fiend bites my back.
FOOL  Hes mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf, a horses health, a boys love, or a whores oath.
EDGAR  Look, where he stands and glares wantest thou eyes at trial, madam? Come oer the bourn, Bessy, to me,—
FOOL  Her boat hath a leak, And she must not speak Why she dares not come over to thee.
EDGAR  The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the voice of a nightingale. Hopdance cries in Toms belly for two white herring. Croak not, black angel, I have no food for thee.
KENT  How do you, sir? Stand you not so amazd Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions?
EDGAR  Let us deal justly. Sleepest or wakest thou, jolly shepherd? Thy sheep be in the corn, And for one blast of thy minikin mouth, Thy sheep shall take no harm. Purr the cat is grey.
LEAR  Arraign her first, tis Goneril. I here take my oath before this honourable assembly, she kicked the poor king her father.
FOOL  Come hither, mistress. Is your name Goneril?
LEAR  She cannot deny it.
FOOL  Cry you mercy, I took you for a joint-stool.
LEAR  And heres another, whose warpd looks proclaim What store her heart is made on. Stop her there Arms, arms, sword, fire Corruption in the place False justicer, why hast thou let her scape?
EDGAR  Bless thy five wits
KENT  O pity Sir, where is the patience now That you so oft have boasted to retain?
Aside.  Theyll mar my counterfeiting.
LEAR  The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanch, and Sweet-heart, see, they bark at me.
EDGAR  Tom will throw his head at them. Avaunt, you curs Be thy mouth or black or white, Tooth that poisons if it bite, Mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim, Hound or spaniel, brach or lym, Or bobtail tike or trundle-tail, Tom will make them weep and wail For, with throwing thus my head, Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled. Do de, de, de. Sessa Come, march to wakes and fairs and market-towns. Poor Tom, thy horn is dry.
KENT  Now, good my lord, lie here and rest awhile.
LEAR  Make no noise, make no noise, draw the curtains so, so, so. Well go to supper i the morning so, so, so.
FOOL  And Ill go to bed at noon.
GLOUCESTER  Come hither, friend where is the king my master?
KENT  Here, sir, but trouble him not, his wits are gone.
GLOUCESTER  Good friend, I prithee, take him in thy arms, I have oerheard a plot of death upon him. There is a litter ready, lay him in t, And drive toward Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master If thou shouldst dally half an hour, his life, With thine, and all that offer to defend him, Stand in assured loss. Take up, take up, And follow me, that will to some provision Give thee quick conduct.
GLOUCESTER  Come, come, away.
EDGAR  When we our betters see bearing our woes, We scarcely think our miseries our foes. Who alone suffers suffers most i the mind, Leaving free things and happy shows behind, But then the mind much sufferance doth oerskip, When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship. How light and portable my pain seems now, When that which makes me bend makes the king bow, He childed as I fatherd Tom, away Mark the high noises, and thyself bewray When false opinion, whose wrong thought defiles thee, In thy just proof repeals and reconciles thee. What will hap more to-night, safe scape the king Lurk, lurk.
CORNWALL  Post speedily to my lord your husband, show him this letter the army of France is landed. Seek out the traitor Gloucester.
REGAN  Hang him instantly.
GONERIL  Pluck out his eyes.
CORNWALL  Leave him to my displeasure. Edmund, keep you our sister company the revenges we are bound to take upon your traitorous father are not fit for your beholding. Advise the duke, where you are going, to a most festinate preparation we are bound to the like. Our posts shall be swift and intelligent betwixt us. Farewell, dear sister farewell, my Lord of Gloucester.
OSWALD  My Lord of Gloucester hath conveyd him hence Some five or six and thirty of his knights, Hot questrists after him, met him at gate, Who, with some other of the lords dependants, Are gone with him toward Dover, where they boast To have well-armed friends.
CORNWALL  Get horses for your mistress.
GONERIL  Farewell, sweet lord, and sister.
CORNWALL  Edmund, farewell. Go seek the traitor Gloucester, Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us. Though well we may not pass upon his life Without the form of justice, yet our power Shall do a courtesy to our wrath, which men May blame but not control. Whos there? The traitor?
REGAN  Ingrateful fox tis he.
CORNWALL  Bind fast his corky arms.
GLOUCESTER  What mean your Graces? Good my friends, consider You are my guests do me no foul play, friends
CORNWALL  Bind him, I say.
REGAN  Hard, hard. O filthy traitor
GLOUCESTER  Unmerciful lady as you are, Im none.
CORNWALL  To this chair bind him. Villain, thou shalt find—
GLOUCESTER  By the kind gods, tis most ignobly done To pluck me by the beard.
REGAN  So white, and such a traitor
GLOUCESTER  Naughty lady, These hairs, which thou dost ravish from my chin, Will quicken, and accuse thee I am your host With robbers hands my hospitable favours You should not ruffle thus. What will you do?
CORNWALL  Come, sir, what letters had you late from France?
REGAN  Be simple-answerd, for we know the truth.
CORNWALL  And what confederacy have you with the traitors Late footed in the kingdom?
REGAN  To whose hands have you sent the lunatic king? Speak.
GLOUCESTER  I have a letter guessingly set down, Which came from one thats of a neutral heart, And not from one opposd.
CORNWALL  Cunning.
REGAN  And false.
CORNWALL  Where hast thou sent the king?
GLOUCESTER  To Dover.
REGAN  Wherefore to Dover? Wast thou not chargd at peril—
CORNWALL  Wherefore to Dover? Let him answer that.
GLOUCESTER  I am tied to the stake, and I must stand the course.
REGAN  Wherefore to Dover?
GLOUCESTER  Because I would not see thy cruel nails Pluck out his poor old eyes, nor thy fierce sister In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs. The sea, with such a storm as his bare head In hell-black night endurd, would have buoyd up, And quenchd the stelled fires, Yet, poor old heart, he holp the heavens to rain. If wolves had at thy gate howld that dern time, Thou shouldst have said, Good porter, turn the key, All cruels else subscribd but I shall see The winged vengeance overtake such children.
CORNWALL  See t shalt thou never. Fellows, hold the chair. Upon these eyes of thine Ill set my foot.
GLOUCESTER  He that will think to live till he be old, Give me some help O cruel O ye gods
REGAN  One side will mock another, the other too.
CORNWALL  If you see vengeance.—
SERVANT1  Hold your hand, my lord I have servd you ever since I was a child, But better service have I never done you Than now to bid you hold.
REGAN  How now, you dog
SERVANT1  If you did wear a beard upon your chin, Id shake it on this quarrel. What do you mean?
CORNWALL  My villain
SERVANT1  Nay then, come on, and take the chance of anger.
REGAN  Give me thy sword. A peasant stand up thus
SERVANT1  O I am slain. My lord, you have one eye left To see some mischief on him. O
CORNWALL  Lest it see more, prevent it. Out, vile jelly Where is thy lustre now?
GLOUCESTER  All dark and comfortless. Wheres my son Edmund? Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature To quit this horrid act.
REGAN  Out, treacherous villain Thou callst on him that hates thee, it was he That made the overture of thy treasons to us, Who is too good to pity thee.
GLOUCESTER  O my follies Then Edgar was abusd. Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him
REGAN  Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell
CORNWALL  I have receivd a hurt. Follow me, lady. Turn out that eyeless villain, throw this slave Upon the dunghill. Regan, I bleed apace Untimely comes this hurt. Give me your arm.
SERVANT2  Ill never care what wickedness I do If this man come to good.
SERVANT3  If she live long, And, in the end, meet the old course of death, Women will all turn monsters.
SERVANT2  Lets follow the old earl, and get the Bedlam To lead him where he would his roguish madness Allows itself to any thing.
SERVANT3  Go thou, Ill fetch some flax, and whites of eggs, To apply to his bleeding face. Now, heaven help him
GLOUCESTER  Away, get thee away, good friend, be gone, Thy comforts can do me no good at all, Thee they may hurt.
GLOUCESTER  I have no way, and therefore want no eyes, I stumbled when I saw. Full oft tis seen, Our means secure us, and our mere defects Prove our commodities. Ah dear son Edgar. The food of thy abused fathers wrath, Might I but live to see thee in my touch, Id say I had eyes again.
Aside.  I am worse than eer I was.
Aside.  So long as we can say, This is the worst.
GLOUCESTER  Is it a beggar-man?
GLOUCESTER  He has some reason, else he could not beg. I the last nights storm I such a fellow saw, Which made me think a man a worm my son Came then into my mind, and yet my mind Was then scarce friends with him I have heard more since. As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods, They kill us for their sport.
GLOUCESTER  Is that the naked fellow?
GLOUCESTER  Then, prithee, get thee gone. If, for my sake, Thou wilt oertake us, hence a mile or twain, I the way toward Dover, do it for ancient love, And bring some covering for this naked soul Who Ill entreat to lead me.
GLOUCESTER  Tis the times plague, when madmen lead the blind. Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure, Above the rest, be gone.
GLOUCESTER  Sirrah, naked fellow,—
GLOUCESTER  Come hither, fellow.
GLOUCESTER  Knowst thou the way to Dover?
EDGAR  Both stile and gate, horse-way and footpath. Poor Tom hath been scared out of his good wits bless thee, good mans son, from the foul fiend Five fiends have been in poor Tom at once, of lust, as Obidicut, Hobbididance, prince of dumbness, Mahu, of stealing, Modo, of murder, and Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and mowing, who since possesses chambermaids and waiting-women. So, bless thee, master
GLOUCESTER  Here, take this purse, thou whom the heavens plagues Have humbled to all strokes that I am wretched Makes thee the happier heavens, deal so still Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man, That slaves your ordinance, that will not see Because he doth not feel, feel your power quickly, So distribution should undo excess, And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover?
EDGAR  Ay, master.
GLOUCESTER  There is a cliff, whose high and bending head Looks fearfully in the confined deep, Bring me but to the very brim of it, And Ill repair the misery thou dost bear, With something rich about me, from that place I shall no leading need.
EDGAR  Give me thy arm Poor Tom shall lead thee.
OSWALD  Madam, within, but never man so changd. I told him of the army that was landed, He smild at it I told him you were coming, His answer was, The worse of Gloucesters treachery, And of the loyal service of his son, When I informd him, then he calld me sot, And told me I had turnd the wrong side out What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him, What like, offensive.
EDMUND  Yours in the ranks of death.
GONERIL  My most dear Gloucester O the difference of man and man To thee a womans services are due My fool usurps my bed.
OSWALD  Madam, here comes my lord.
GONERIL  I have been worth the whistle.
ALBANY  O Goneril You are not worth the dust which the rude wind Blows in your face. I fear your disposition That nature, which contemns its origin, Cannot be borderd certain in itself, She that herself will sliver and disbranch From her material sap, perforce must wither And come to deadly use.
GONERIL  No more, the text is foolish.
ALBANY  Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile, Filths savour but themselves. What have you done? Tigers, not daughters, what have you performd? A father, and a gracious aged man, Whose reverence the head-luggd bear would lick, Most barbarous, most degenerate have you madded. Could my good brother suffer you to do it? A man, a prince, by him so benefited If that the heavens do not their visible spirits Send quickly down to tame these vile offences, It will come, Humanity must perforce prey on itself, Like monsters of the deep.
GONERIL  Milk-liverd man That bearst a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs, Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning Thine honour from thy suffering, that not knowst Fools do those villains pity who are punishd Ere they have done their mischief. Wheres thy drum? France spreads his banners in our noiseless land, With plumed helm thy slayer begins threats, Whilst thou, a moral fool, sittst still, and criest Alack why does he so?
ALBANY  See thyself, devil Proper deformity seems not in the fiend So horrid as in woman.
GONERIL  O vain fool
ALBANY  Thou changed and self-coverd thing, for shame, Be-monster not thy feature. Were t my fitness To let these hands obey my blood, They are apt enough to dislocate and tear Thy flesh and bones, howeer thou art a fiend, A womans shape doth shield thee.
GONERIL  Marry, your manhood.—Mew
ALBANY  What news?
MESSENGER  O my good lord, the Duke of Cornwalls dead, Slain by his servant, going to put out The other eye of Gloucester.
ALBANY  Gloucesters eyes
MESSENGER  A servant that he bred, thrilld with remorse, Opposd against the act, bending his sword To his great master, who, thereat enragd, Flew on him, and amongst them felld him dead, But not without that harmful stroke, which since Hath pluckd him after.
ALBANY  This shows you are above, You justicers, that these our nether crimes So speedily can venge But, O poor Gloucester Lost he his other eye?
MESSENGER  Both, both, my lord. This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer, Tis from your sister.
ALBANY  Where was his son when they did take his eyes?
MESSENGER  Come with my lady hither.
ALBANY  He is not here.
MESSENGER  No, my good lord, I met him back again.
ALBANY  Knows he the wickedness?
MESSENGER  Ay, my good lord, twas he informd against him, And quit the house on purpose that their punishment Might have the freer course.
ALBANY  Gloucester, I live To thank thee for the love thou showdst the king, And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend Tell me what more thou knowest.
KENT  Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back know you the reason?
GENTLEMAN  Something he left imperfect in the state, which since his coming forth is thought of, which imports to the kingdom so much fear and danger, that his personal return was most required and necessary.
KENT  Who hath he left behind him general?
GENTLEMAN  The Marshal of France, Monsieur la Far.
KENT  Did your letters pierce the queen to any demonstration of grief?
GENTLEMAN  Ay, sir, she took them, read them in my presence, And now and then an ample tear trilld down Her delicate cheek, it seemd she was a queen Over her passion, who, most rebel-like, Sought to be king oer her.
KENT  O then it movd her.
GENTLEMAN  Not to a rage, patience and sorrow strove Who should express her goodliest. You have seen Sunshine and rain at once, her smiles and tears Were like a better way, those happy smilets That playd on her ripe lip seemd not to know What guests were in her eyes, which parted thence, As pearls from diamonds droppd. In brief, Sorrow would be a rarity most belovd, If all could so become it.
KENT  Made she no verbal question?
GENTLEMAN  Faith, once or twice she heavd the name of father Pantingly forth, as if it pressd her heart, Cried, Sisters sisters Shame of ladies sisters Kent father sisters What, i the storm? i the night? Let pity not be believed There she shook The holy water from her heavenly eyes, And clamour-moistend, then away she started To deal with grief alone.
KENT  It is the stars, The stars above us, govern our conditions, Else one self mate and make could not beget Such different issues. You spoke not with her since?
GENTLEMAN  No.
KENT  Was this before the king returnd?
GENTLEMAN  No, since.
KENT  Well, sir, the poor distressd Lears i the town, Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers What we are come about, and by no means Will yield to see his daughter.
GENTLEMAN  Why, good sir?
KENT  A sovereign shame so elbows him his own unkindness, That strippd her from his benediction, turnd her To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights To his dog-hearted daughters,—these things sting His mind so venomously that burning shame Detains him from Cordelia.
GENTLEMAN  Alack poor gentleman.
KENT  Of Albanys and Cornwalls powers you heard not?
GENTLEMAN  Tis so, they are afoot.
KENT  Well, sir, Ill bring you to our master Lear, And leave you to attend him. Some dear cause Will in concealment wrap me up awhile, When I am known aright, you shall not grieve Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you, go Along with me.
CORDELIA  Alack tis he why, he was met even now As mad as the vexd sea, singing aloud, Crownd with rank fumiter and furrow weeds, With burdocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow In our sustaining corn. A century send forth, Search every acre in the high-grown field, And bring him to our eye. What can mans wisdom In the restoring his bereaved sense? He that helps him take all my outward worth.
PHYSICIAN  There is means, madam, Our foster-nurse of nature is repose, The which he lacks, that to provoke in him, Are many simples operative, whose power Will close the eye of anguish.
CORDELIA  All blessd secrets, All you unpublishd virtues of the earth, Spring with my tears be aidant and remediate In the good mans distress Seek, seek for him, Lest his ungovernd rage dissolve the life That wants the means to lead it.
MESSENGER  News, madam, The British powers are marching hitherward.
CORDELIA  Tis known before, our preparation stands In expectation of them. O dear father It is thy business that I go about, Therefore great France My mourning and important tears hath pitied, No blown ambition doth our arms incite, But love, dear love, and our agd fathers right, Soon may I hear and see him
REGAN  But are my brothers powers set forth?
OSWALD  Ay, madam.
REGAN  Himself in person there?
OSWALD  Madam, with much ado Your sister is the better soldier.
REGAN  Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home?
OSWALD  No, madam.
REGAN  What might import my sisters letter to him?
OSWALD  I know not, lady.
REGAN  Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter. It was great ignorance, Gloucesters eyes being out, To let him live, where he arrives he moves All hearts against us. Edmund, I think, is gone, In pity of his misery, to dispatch His nighted life, moreover, to descry The strength o the enemy.
OSWALD  I must needs after him, madam, with my letter.
REGAN  Our troops set forth to-morrow, stay with us, The ways are dangerous.
OSWALD  I may not, madam, My lady chargd my duty in this business.
REGAN  Why should she write to Edmund? Might not you Transport her purposes by word? Belike, Something—I know not what. Ill love thee much, Let me unseal the letter.
OSWALD  Madam, I had rather—
REGAN  I know your lady does not love her husband, I am sure of that and at her late being here She gave strange ceilliades and most speaking looks To noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosom.
OSWALD  I, madam
REGAN  I speak in understanding, you are, I knowt Therefore I do advise you, take this note My lord is dead, Edmund and I have talkd, And more convenient is he for my hand Than for your ladys. You may gather more. If you do find him, pray you, give him this, And when your mistress hears thus much from you, I pray desire her call her wisdom to her So, fare you well. If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor, Preferment falls on him that cuts him off.
OSWALD  Would I could meet him, madam I would show What party I do follow.
REGAN  Fare thee well.
GLOUCESTER  When shall I come to the top of that same hill?
EDGAR  You do climb up it now, look how we labour.
GLOUCESTER  Methinks the ground is even.
EDGAR  Horrible steep Hark do you hear the sea?
GLOUCESTER  No, truly.
EDGAR  Why, then you other senses grow imperfect By your eyes anguish.
GLOUCESTER  So may it be, indeed. Methinks thy voice is alterd, and thou speakst In better phrase and matter than thou didst.
EDGAR  Yare much deceivd, in nothing am I changd But in my garments.
GLOUCESTER  Methinks youre better spoken.
EDGAR  Come on, sir, heres the place stand still. How fearful And dizzy tis to cast ones eyes so low The crows and choughs that wing the midway air Show scarce so gross as beetles, half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire, dreadful trade Methinks he seems no bigger than his head. The fishermen that walk upon the beach Appear like mice, and yond tall anchoring bark Diminishd to her cock, her cock a buoy Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge, That on the unnumberd idle pebbles chafes, Cannot be heard so high. Ill look no more, Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight Topple down headlong.
GLOUCESTER  Set me where you stand.
EDGAR  Give me your hand, you are now within a foot Of the extreme verge for all beneath the moon Would I not leap upright.
GLOUCESTER  Let go my hand. Here, friend, s another purse, in it a jewel Well worth a poor mans taking fairies and gods Prosper it with thee Go thou further off, Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.
EDGAR  Now fare you well, good sir.
GLOUCESTER  With all my heart.
EDGAR  Why I do trifle thus with his despair Is done to cure it.
GLOUCESTER  O you mighty gods This world I do renounce, and, in your sights, Shake patiently my great affliction off, If I could bear it longer, and not fall To quarrel with your great opposeless wills, My snuff and loathed part of nature should Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him Now, fellow, fare thee well.
GLOUCESTER  Away and let me die.
EDGAR  Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air, So many fathom down precipitating, Thoudst shiverd like an egg, but thou dost breathe, Hast heavy substance, bleedst not, speakst, art sound. Ten masts at each make not the altitude Which thou hast perpendicularly fell Thy lifes a miracle. Speak yet again.
GLOUCESTER  But have I fallen or no?
EDGAR  From the dread summit of this chalky bourn. Look up a-height, the shrill-gorgd lark so far Cannot be seen or heard do but look up.
GLOUCESTER  Alack I have no eyes. Is wretchedness deprivd that benefit To end itself by death? Twas yet some comfort, When misery could beguile the tyrants rage, And frustrate his proud will.
EDGAR  Give me your arm Up so. How is t? Feel you your legs? You stand.
GLOUCESTER  Too well, too well.
EDGAR  This is above all strangeness. Upon the crown o the cliff, what thing was that Which parted from you?
GLOUCESTER  A poor unfortunate beggar.
EDGAR  As I stood here below methought his eyes Were two full moons, he had a thousand noses, Horns whelkd and wavd like the enridged sea It was some fiend, therefore, thou happy father, Think that the clearest gods, who make them honours Of mens impossibilities, have preservd thee.
GLOUCESTER  I do remember now, henceforth Ill bear Affliction till it do cry out itself Enough, enough, and die. That thing you speak of I took it for a man, often twould say The fiend, the fiend he led me to that place.
LEAR  No, they cannot touch me for coining, I am the king himself.
EDGAR  O thou side-piercing sight
LEAR  Natures above art in that respect. Theres your press-money. That fellow handles his bow like a crow-keeper draw me a clothiers yard. Look, look a mouse. Peace, peace this piece of toasted cheese will do t. Theres my gauntlet, Ill prove it on a giant. Bring up the brown bills. O well flown, bird, i the clout, i the clout hewgh Give the word.
EDGAR  Sweet marjoram.
LEAR  Pass.
GLOUCESTER  I know that voice.
LEAR  Ha Goneril, with a white beard They flatterd me like a dog, and told me I had white hairs in my beard ere the black ones were there. To say ay and no to everything I said Ay and no too was no good divinity. When the rain came to wet me once and the wind to make me chatter, when the thunder would not peace at my bidding, there I found em, there I smelt em out. Go to, they are not men o their words they told me I was every thing, tis a lie, I am not ague-proof.
GLOUCESTER  The trick of that voice I do well remember Is t not the king?
LEAR  Ay, every inch a king When I do stare, see how the subject quakes. I pardon that mans life. What was thy cause? Adultery? Thou shalt not die die for adultery No The wren goes to t, and the small gilded fly Does lecher in my sight. Let copulation thrive, for Gloucesters bastard son Was kinder to his father than my daughters Got tween the lawful sheets. To t luxury, pell-mell for I lack soldiers. Behold yond simpering dame, Whose face between her forks presageth snow, That minces virtue, and does shake the head To hear of pleasures name, The fitchew nor the soiled horse goes to t With a more riotous appetite. Down from the waist they are Centaurs, Though women all above But to the girdle do the gods inherit, Beneath is all the fiends Theres hell, theres darkness, there is the sulphurous pit, Burning, scalding, stench, consumption, fie, fie, fie pah, pah Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination theres money for thee.
GLOUCESTER  O let me kiss that hand
LEAR  Let me wipe it first, it smells of mortality.
GLOUCESTER  O ruind piece of nature This great world Shall so wear out to nought. Dost thou know me?
LEAR  I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou squiny at me? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid, Ill not love. Read thou this challenge, mark but the penning of it.
GLOUCESTER  Were all the letters suns, I could not see.
Aside.  And my heart breaks at it.
LEAR  Read.
GLOUCESTER  What with the case of eyes?
LEAR  O, ho are you there with me? No eyes in your head, nor no money in your purse? Your eyes are in a heavy case, your purse in a light yet you see how this world goes.
GLOUCESTER  I see it feelingly.
LEAR  What art mad? A man may see how this world goes with no eyes. Look with thine ears see how yound justice rails upon yon simple thief. Hark, in thine ear change places, and, handy-dandy, which is the justice, which is the thief? Thou hast seen a farmers dog bark at a beggar?
GLOUCESTER  Ay, sir.
LEAR  And the creature run from the cur? There thou mightst behold the great image of authority, a dogs obeyd in office. Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back, Thou hotly lustst to use her in that kind For which thou whippst her. The usurer hangs the cozener. Through tatterd clothes small vices do appear, Robes and furrd gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold, And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks, Arm it in rags, a pigmys straw doth pierce it. None does offend, none, I say none, Ill able em Take that of me, my friend, who have the power To seal the accusers lips. Get thee glass eyes, And, like a scurvy politician, seem To see the things thou dost not. Now, now, now, now, Pull off my boots, harder, harder, so.
Aside.  Reason in madness
LEAR  If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes, I know thee well enough, thy name is Gloucester Thou must be patient, we came crying hither Thou knowst the first time that we smell the air We waul and cry. I will preach to thee mark.
GLOUCESTER  Alack alack the day
LEAR  When we are born, we cry that we are come To this great stage of fools. This a good block It were a delicate stratagem to shoe A troop of horse with felt, Ill put it in proof, And when I have stoln upon these sons-in-law, Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill
GENTLEMAN  O here he is, lay hand upon him. Sir, Your most dear daughter—
LEAR  No rescue? What a prisoner? I am even The natural fool of fortune. Use me well, You shall have ransom. Let me have surgeons, I am cut to the brains.
GENTLEMAN  You shall have any thing.
LEAR  No seconds? All myself? Why this would make a man a man of salt, To use his eyes for garden water-pots, Ay, and laying autumns dust.
GENTLEMAN  Good sir,—
LEAR  I will die bravely as a bridegroom. What I will be jovial come, come, I am a king, My masters, know you that?
GENTLEMAN  You are a royal one, and we obey you.
LEAR  Then theres life in it. Nay, an you get it, you shall get it by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa
GENTLEMAN  A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch, Past speaking of in a king Thou hast one daughter, Who redeems nature from the general curse Which twain have brought her to.
EDGAR  Hail, gentle sir
GENTLEMAN  Sir, speed you whats your will?
EDGAR  Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward?
GENTLEMAN  Most sure and vulgar, every one hears that, Which can distinguish sound.
EDGAR  But, by your favour, How nears the other army?
GENTLEMAN  Near, and on speedy foot, the main descry Stands on the hourly thought.
EDGAR  I thank you, sir thats all
GENTLEMAN  Though that the queen on special cause is here, Her army is movd on.
EDGAR  I thank you, sir.
GLOUCESTER  You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me Let not my worser spirit tempt me again To die before you please
EDGAR  Well pray you, father.
GLOUCESTER  Now, good sir, what are you?
EDGAR  A most poor man, made tame to fortunes blows, Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows, Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand, Ill lead you to some biding.
GLOUCESTER  Hearty thanks The bounty and the benison of heaven To boot, and boot
OSWALD  A proclaimd prize Most happy That eyeless head of thine was first framd flesh To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor, Briefly thyself remember the sword in out That must destroy thee.
GLOUCESTER  Now let thy friendly hand Put strength enough to t.
OSWALD  Wherefore, bold peasant, Darst thou support a publishd traitor? Hence, Lest that infection of his fortune take Like hold on thee. Let go his arm.
EDGAR  Chill not let go, zur, without vurther casion.
OSWALD  Let go, slave, or thou diest.
EDGAR  Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor volk pass. An chud ha bin zwaggered out of my life, twould not ha bin zo long as tis by a vortnight. Nay, come not near th old man, keep out, che vor ye, or ise try whether your costard or my ballow be the harder. Chill be plain with you.
OSWALD  Out, dunghill
EDGAR  Chill pick your teeth, zur. Come, no matter vor your foins.
OSWALD  Slave, thou hast slain me. Villain, take my purse. If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body, And give the letters which thou findst about me To Edmund Earl of Gloucester, seek him out Upon the English party O untimely death.
EDGAR  I know thee well a serviceable villain, As duteous to the vices of thy mistress As badness would desire.
GLOUCESTER  What is he dead?
GONERIL. O undistinguishd space of womans will A plot upon her virtuous husbands life, And the exchange my brother Here, in the sands, Thee Ill rake up, the post unsanctified Of murderous lechers, and in the mature time With this ungracious paper strike the sight Of the death-practisd duke. For him tis well That of thy death and business I can tell.
GLOUCESTER  The king is mad how stiff is my vile sense, That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling Of my huge sorrows Better I were distract So should my thoughts be severd from my griefs, And woes by wrong imaginations lose The knowledge of themselves.
EDGAR  Give me your hand Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum. Come, father, Ill bestow you with a friend.
CORDELIA  O thou good Kent how shall I live and work To match thy goodness? My life will be too short, And every measure fail me.
KENT  To be acknowledgd, madam, is oerpaid. All my reports go with the modest truth, Nor more nor clippd, but so.
CORDELIA  Be better suited These weeds are memories of those worser hours I prithee, put them off.
KENT  Pardon me, dear madam, Yet to be known shortens my made intent My boon I make it that you know me not Till time and I think meet.
DOCTOR  Madam, sleeps still.
CORDELIA  O you kind gods, Cure this great breach in his abused nature The untund and jarring senses, O wind up Of this child-changed father
DOCTOR  So please your majesty That we may wake the king? he hath slept long.
CORDELIA  Be governd by your knowledge, and proceed I the sway of your own will. Is he arrayd?
GENTLEMAN  Ay, madam, in the heaviness of sleep, We put fresh garments on him.
DOCTOR  Be by, good madam, when we do awake him, I doubt not of his temperance.
CORDELIA  Very well.
DOCTOR  Please you, draw near. Louder the music there.
CORDELIA  O my dear father Restoration, hang Thy medicine on my lips, and let this kiss Repair those violent harms that my two sisters Have in thy reverence made
KENT  Kind and dear princess
CORDELIA  Had you not been their father, these white flakes Had challengd pity of them. Was this a face To be exposd against the warring winds? To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder? In the most terrible and nimble stroke Of quick cross lightning? to watch—poor perdu— With this thin helm? Mine enemys dog, Though he had bit me, should have stood that night Against my fire. And wast thou fain, poor father, To hovel thee with swine and rogues forlorn, In short and musty straw? Alack, alack Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once Had not concluded all. He wakes, speak to him.
DOCTOR  Madam, do you, tis fittest.
CORDELIA  How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty?
LEAR  You do me wrong to take me out o the grave, Thou art a soul in bliss, but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.
CORDELIA  Sir, do you know me?
LEAR  You are a spirit, I know, when did you die?
CORDELIA  Still, still, far wide.
DOCTOR  Hes scarce awake, let him alone awhile.
LEAR  Where have I been? Where am I? Fair day-light? I am mightily abusd. I should even die with pity To see another thus. I know not what to say. I will not swear these are my hands lets see, I feel this pin prick. Would I were assurd Of my condition
CORDELIA  O look upon me, sir, And hold your hands in benediction oer me. No, sir, you must not kneel.
LEAR  Pray, do not mock me I am a very foolish fond old man, Fourscore and upward, not an hour more or less, And, to deal plainly, I fear I am not in my perfect mind. Methinks I should know you and know this man, Yet I am doubtful for I am mainly ignorant What place this is, and all the skill I have Remembers not these garments, nor I know not Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me, For, as I am a man, I think this lady To be my child Cordelia.
CORDELIA  And so I am, I am.
LEAR  Be your tears wet? Yes, faith. I pray, weep not If you have poison for me, I will drink it. I know you do not love me, for your sisters Have, as I do remember, done me wrong You have some cause, they have not.
CORDELIA  No cause, no cause.
LEAR  Am I in France?
KENT  In your own kingdom, sir.
LEAR  Do not abuse me.
DOCTOR  Be comforted, good madam, the great rage, You see, is killd in him, and yet it is danger To make him even oer the time he has lost. Desire him to go in, trouble him no more Till further settling.
CORDELIA  Will t please your highness walk?
LEAR  You must bear with me. Pray you now, forget and forgive I am old and foolish.
GENTLEMAN  Holds it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain?
KENT  Most certain, sir.
GENTLEMAN  Who is conductor of his people?
KENT  As tis said, the bastard son of Gloucester.
GENTLEMAN  They say Edgar, his banished son, is with the Earl of Kent in Germany.
KENT  Report is changeable. Tis time to look about, the powers of the kingdom approach apace.
GENTLEMAN  The arbitrement is like to be bloody. Fare you well, sir.
KENT  My point and period will be throughly wrought, Or well or ill, as this days battles fought.
EDMUND  Know of the duke if his last purpose hold, Or whether since he is advisd by aught To change the course, hes full of alteration And self-reproving, bring his constant pleasure.
REGAN  Our sisters man is certainly miscarried.
EDMUND  Tis to be doubted, madam.
REGAN  Now, sweet lord, You know the goodness I intend upon you Tell me, but truly, but then speak the truth, Do you not love my sister?
EDMUND  In honourd love.
REGAN  But have you never found my brothers way To the forefended place?
EDMUND  That thought abuses you.
REGAN  I am doubtful that you have been conjunct And bosomd with her, as far as we call hers.
EDMUND  No, by mine honour, madam.
REGAN  I never shall endure her dear my lord, Be not familiar with her.
EDMUND  Fear me not. She and the duke her husband
Aside.  Should loosen him and me.
ALBANY  Our very loving sister, well be-met. Sir, this I heard, the king is come to his daughter, With others, whom the rigour of our state Forcd to cry out. Where I could not be honest I never yet was valiant for this business, It toucheth us, as France invades our land, Not bolds the king, with others, whom, I fear, Most just and heavy causes make oppose.
EDMUND  Sir, you speak nobly.
REGAN  Why is this reasond?
GONERIL  Combine together gainst the enemy, For these domestic and particular broils Are not the question here.
ALBANY  Lets then determine With the ancient of war on our proceeding.
EDMUND  I shall attend you presently at your tent.
REGAN  Sister, youll go with us?
GONERIL  No.
REGAN  Tis most convenient, pray you, go with us.
EDGAR  If eer your Grace had speech with man so poor, Hear me one word.
ALBANY  Ill overtake you. Speak.
EDGAR  Before you fight the battle, ope this letter. If you have victory, let the trumpet sound For him that brought it wretched though I seem, I can produce a champion that will prove What is avouched there. If you miscarry, Your business of the world hath so an end, And machination ceases. Fortune love you
ALBANY  Stay till I have read the letter.
EDGAR  I was forbid it. When time shall serve, let but the herald cry, And Ill appear again.
ALBANY  Why, fare thee well I will oerlook thy paper.
EDMUND  The enemys in view, draw up your powers. Here is the guess of their true strength and forces By diligent discovery, but your haste Is now urgd on you.
ALBANY  We will greet the time.
EDMUND  To both these sisters have I sworn my love, Each jealous of the other, as the stung Are of the adder. Which of them shall I take? Both? one? or neither? Neither can be enjoyd If both remain alive to take the widow Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril, And hardly shall I carry out my side, Her husband being alive. Now then, well use His countenance for the battle, which being done Let her who would be rid of him devise His speedy taking off. As for the mercy Which he intends to Lear, and to Cordelia, The battle done, and they within our power, Shall never see his pardon, for my state Stands on me to defend, not to debate.
EDGAR  Here, father, take the shadow of this tree For your good host, pray that the right may thrive. If ever I return to you again, Ill bring you comfort.
GLOUCESTER  Grace go with you, sir
EDGAR  Away, old man give me thy hand away King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter taen. Give me thy hand, come on.
GLOUCESTER  No further, sir, a man may rot even here.
EDGAR  What in ill thoughts again? Men must endure Their going hence, even as their coming hither Ripeness is all. Come on.
GLOUCESTER  And thats true too.
EDMUND  Some officers take them away good guard, Until their greater pleasures first be known That are to censure them.
CORDELIA  We are not the first Who, with best meaning, have incurrd the worst. For thee, oppressed king, am I cast down, Myself could else out-frown false Fortunes frown. Shall we not see these daughters and these sisters?
LEAR  No, no, no, no Come, lets away to prison, We two alone will sing like birds i the cage When thou dost ask me blessing, Ill kneel down, And ask of thee forgiveness so well live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues Talk of court news, and well talk with them too, Who loses and who wins, whos in, whos out, And take upons the mystery of things, As if we were Gods spies and well wear out, In a walld prison, packs and sets of great ones That ebb and flow by the moon.
EDMUND  Take them away.
LEAR  Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, The gods themselves throw incense. Have I caught thee? He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven, And fire us hence like foxes. Wipe thine eyes, The goujeres shall devour them, flesh and fell, Ere they shall make us weep well see em starve first. Come.
OFFICER  Ill dot, my lord.
EDMUND  About it, and write happy when thou hast done. Mark,—I say, instantly, and carry it so As I have set it down.
OFFICER  I cannot draw a cart nor eat dried oats, If it be mans work I will do it.
ALBANY  Sir, you have showd to-day your valiant strain, And fortune led you well, you have the captives Who were the opposites of this days strife, We do require them of you, so to use them As we shall find their merits and our safety May equally determine.
EDMUND  Sir, I thought it fit To send the old and miserable king To some retention, and appointed guard, Whose age has charms in it, whose title more, To pluck the common bosom on his side, And turn our impressd lances in our eyes Which do command them. With him I sent the queen, My reason all the same, and they are ready To-morrow, or at further space, to appear Where you shall hold your session. At this time We sweat and bleed, the friend hath lost his friend, And the best quarrels, in the heat, are cursd By those that feel their sharpness, The question of Cordelia and her father Requires a fitter place.
ALBANY  Sir, by your patience, I hold you but a subject of this war, Not as a brother.
REGAN  Thats as we list to grace him Methinks our pleasure might have been demanded, Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers, Bore the commission of my place and person, The which immediacy may well stand up, And call itself your brother.
GONERIL  Not so hot, In his own grace he doth exalt himself More than in your addition.
REGAN  In my rights, By me invested, he compeers the best.
GONERIL  That were the most, if he should husband you.
REGAN  Jesters do oft prove prophets.
GONERIL  Holla, holla That eye that told you so lookd but a-squint.
REGAN  Lady, I am not well, else I should answer From a full-flowing stomach. General, Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony, Dispose of them, of me, the walls are thine, Witness the world, that I create thee here My lord and master.
GONERIL  Mean you to enjoy him?
ALBANY  The let-alone lies not in your good will.
EDMUND  Nor in thine, lord.
ALBANY  Half-blooded fellow, yes.
GONERIL  An interlude
REGAN  Sick O sick
ALBANY  A herald, ho
EDMUND  A herald, ho a herald
ALBANY  Trust to thy single virtue, for thy soldiers, All levied in my name, have in my name Took their discharge.
REGAN  My sickness grows upon me.
OFFICER  Sound, trumpet
HERALD  If any man of quality or degree within the lists of the army will maintain upon Edmund, supposed Earl of Gloucester, that he is a manifold traitor, let him appear at the third sound of the trumpet. He is bold in his defence.
EDMUND  Sound
HERALD  Again
ALBANY  Ask him his purposes, why he appears Upon this call o the trumpet.
HERALD  What are you? Your name? your quality? and why you answer This present summons?
EDGAR  Know, my name is lost, By treasons tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit Yet am I noble as the adversary I come to cope.
ALBANY  Which is that adversary?
EDGAR  Whats he that speaks for Edmund Earl of Gloucester?
EDMUND  Himself what sayst thou to him?
EDGAR  Draw thy sword, That, if my speech offend a noble heart, Thy arm may do thee justice, here is mine Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours, My oath, and my profession I protest, Maugre thy strength, youth, place, and eminence, Despite thy victor sword and fire-new fortune, Thy valour and thy heart, thou art a traitor, False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father, Conspirant gainst this high illustrious prince, And, from the extremest upward of thy head To the descent and dust below thy foot, A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou No, This sword, this arm, and my best spirits are bent To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak, Thou liest.
EDMUND  In wisdom I should ask thy name, But since thy outside looks so fair and war-like, And that thy tongue some say of breeding breathes, What safe and nicely I might well delay By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn, Back do I toss these treasons to thy head, With the hell-hated lie oerwhelm thy heart, Which, for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise, This sword of mine shall give them instant way, Where they shall rest for ever. Trumpets, speak
ALBANY  Save him, save him
GONERIL  This is practice, Gloucester By the law of arms thou wast not bound to answer An unknown opposite, thou art not vanquishd, But cozend and beguild.
ALBANY  Shut your mouth, dame, Or with this paper shall I stop it. Hold, sir, Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil No tearing, lady, I perceive you know it.
GONERIL  Say, if I do, the laws are mine, not thine Who can arraign me for t?
ALBANY  Most monstrous Knowst thou this paper?
EDMUND  Ask me not what I know.
ALBANY  Go after her shes desperate, govern her.
EDMUND  What you have chargd me with, that have I done, And more, much more, the time will bring it out Tis past, and so am I. But what art thou That hast this fortune on me? If thourt noble, I do forgive thee.
EDGAR  Lets exchange charity. I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund, If more, the more thou hast wrongd me. My name is Edgar, and thy fathers son. The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to plague us The dark and vicious place where thee he got Cost him his eyes.
EDMUND  Thou hast spoken right, tis true, The wheel is come full circle, I am here.
ALBANY  Methought thy very gait did prophesy A royal nobleness I must embrace thee Let sorrow split my heart, if ever I Did hate thee or thy father.
EDGAR  Worthy prince, I know t.
ALBANY  Where have you hid yourself? How have you known the miseries of your father?
EDGAR  By nursing them, my lord. List a brief tale, And, when tis told, O that my heart would burst, The bloody proclamation to escape That followd me so near,—O our lives sweetness, That we the pain of death would hourly die Rather than die at once—taught me to shift Into a madmans rags, to assume a semblance That very dogs disdaind and in this habit Met I my father with his bleeding rings, Their precious stones new lost, became his guide, Led him, beggd for him, savd him from despair, Never,—O fault—reveald myself unto him, Until some half hour past, when I was armd, Not sure, though hoping, of this good success, I askd his blessing, and from first to last Told him my pilgrimage but his flawd heart,— Alack too weak the conflict to support, Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief, Burst smilingly.
EDMUND  This speech of yours hath movd me, And shall perchance do good, but speak you on, You look as you had something more to say.
ALBANY  If there be more, more woeful, hold it in, For I am almost ready to dissolve, Hearing of this.
EDGAR  This would have seemd a period To such as love not sorrow, but another, To amplify too much, would make much more, And top extremity. Whilst I was big in clamour came there a man, Who, having seen me in my worst estate, Shunnd my abhorrd society, but then, finding Who twas that so endurd, with his strong arms He fastend on my neck, and bellowd out As hed burst heaven, threw him on my father, Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him That ever ear receivd, which in recounting His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life Began to crack twice then the trumpet sounded, And there I left him trancd.
ALBANY  But who was this?
EDGAR  Kent, sir, the banishd Kent, who in disguise Followd his enemy king, and did him service Improper for a slave.
GENTLEMAN  Help, help O help
EDGAR  What kind of help?
ALBANY  Speak, man.
EDGAR  What means that bloody knife?
GENTLEMAN  Tis hot, it smokes, It came even from the heart of—O shes dead.
ALBANY  Who dead? speak, man.
GENTLEMAN  Your lady, sir, your lady and her sister By her is poisond, she confesses it.
EDMUND  I was contracted to them both all three Now marry in an instant.
EDGAR  Here comes Kent.
KENT  I am come To bid my king and master aye good-night, Is he not here?
ALBANY  Great thing of us forgot Speak, Edmund, wheres the king? and wheres Cordelia? Seest thou this object, Kent?
KENT  Alack why thus?
EDMUND  Yet Edmund was belovd The one the other poisond for my sake, And after slew herself.
ALBANY  Even so. Cover their faces.
EDMUND  I pant for life some good I mean to do Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send, Be brief in it, to the castle, for my writ Is on the life of Lear and on Cordelia. Nay, send in time.
ALBANY  Run, run O run
EDGAR  To whom, my lord? Who has the office? send Thy token of reprieve.
EDMUND  Well thought on take my sword, Give it the captain.
ALBANY  Haste thee, for thy life.
EDMUND  He hath commission from my wife and me To hang Cordelia in the prison, and To lay the blame upon her own despair, That she fordid herself.
LEAR  Howl, howl, howl, howl O you are men of stones Had I your tongues and eyes, Id use them so That heavens vaults should crack. Shes gone for ever. I know when one is dead, and when one lives, Shes dead as earth. Lend me a looking-glass, If that her breath will mist or stain the stone, Why, then she lives.
KENT  Is this the promisd end?
EDGAR  Or image of that horror?
ALBANY  Fall and cease?
LEAR  This feather stirs, she lives if it be so, It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows That ever I have felt.
LEAR  Prithee, away.
EDGAR  Tis noble Kent, your friend.
LEAR  A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all I might have savd her, now, shes gone for ever Cordelia, Cordelia stay a little. Ha What is t thou sayst? Her voice was ever soft, Gentle and low, an excellent thing in woman. I killd the slave that was a hanging thee.
OFFICER  Tis true, my lord, he did.
LEAR  Did I not, fellow? I have seen the day, with my good biting falchion I would have made them skip I am old now, And these same crosses spoil me. Who are you? Mine eyes are not o the best Ill tell you straight.
KENT  If fortune brag of two she lovd and hated, One of them we behold.
LEAR  This is a dull sight. Are you not Kent?
KENT  The same, Your servant Kent. Where is your servant Caius?
LEAR  Hes a good fellow, I can tell you that, Hell strike, and quickly too. Hes dead and rotten.
KENT  No, my good lord, I am the very man—
LEAR  Ill see that straight.
KENT  That, from your first of difference and decay, Have followd your sad steps.
LEAR  You are welcome hither.
KENT  Nor no man else, alls cheerless, dark, and deadly Your eldest daughters have fordone themselves, And desperately are dead.
LEAR  Ay, so I think.
ALBANY  He knows not what he says, and vain it is That we present us to him.
EDGAR  Very bootless.
OFFICER  Edmund is dead, my lord.
LEAR  And my poor fool is hangd No, no, no life Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all? Thoult come no more, Never, never, never, never, never Pray you, undo this button thank you, sir. Do you see this? Look on her, look, her lips, Look there, look there
EDGAR  He faints—my lord, my lord
KENT  Break, heart, I prithee, break.
EDGAR  Look up, my lord.
KENT  Vex not his ghost O let him pass, he hates him That would upon the rack of this tough world Stretch him out longer.
EDGAR  He is gone, indeed.
KENT  The wonder is he hath endurd so long He but usurpd his life.
KENT  I have a journey, sir, shortly to go, My master calls me, I must not say no.
ALBANY  The weight of this sad time we must obey, Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. The oldest hath borne most we that are young, Shall never see so much, nor live so long.
WITCH1  When shall we three meet again In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
WITCH2  When the hurlyburlys done, When the battles lost and won.
WITCH3  That will be ere the set of sun.
WITCH1  Where the place?
WITCH2  Upon the heath.
WITCH3  There to meet with Macbeth.
WITCH1  I come, Graymalkin
WITCH2  Paddock calls.
WITCH3  Anon.
ALL  Fair is foul, and foul is fair Hover through the fog and filthy air.
DUNCAN  What bloody man is that? He can report, As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt The newest state.
MALCOLM  This is the sergeant Who, like a good and hardy soldier fought Gainst my captivity. Hail, brave friend Say to the king the knowledge of the broil As thou didst leave it.
SERGEANT  Doubtful it stood, As two spent swimmers, that do cling together And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald— Worthy to be a rebel, for to that The multiplying villanies of nature Do swarm upon him—from the western isles Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied, And fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling, Showd like a rebels whore but alls too weak, For brave Macbeth,—well he deserves that name,— Disdaining fortune, with his brandishd steel, Which smokd with bloody execution, Like valours minion carvd out his passage Till he facd the slave, Which neer shook hands, nor bade farewell to him, Till he unseamd him from the nave to the chaps, And fixd his head upon our battlements.
DUNCAN  O valiant cousin worthy gentleman
SERGEANT  As whence the sun gins his reflection Shipwracking storms and direful thunders break, So from that spring whence comfort seemd to come Discomfort swells. Mark, King of Scotland, mark No sooner justice had with valour armd Compelld these skipping kerns to trust their heels, But the Norweyan lord surveying vantage, With furbishd arms and new supplies of men Began a fresh assault.
DUNCAN  Dismayd not this Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo?
SERGEANT  Yes, As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion. If I say sooth, I must report they were As cannons overchargd with double cracks, So they Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds, Or memorize another Golgotha, I cannot tell— But I am faint, my gashes cry for help.
DUNCAN  So well thy words become thee as thy wounds, They smack of honour both. Go, get him surgeons.
MALCOLM  The worthy Thane of Ross.
LENNOX  What a haste looks through his eyes So should he look That seems to speak things strange.
ROSS  God save the king
DUNCAN  Whence camst thou, worthy thane?
ROSS  From Fife, great king, Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky And fan our people cold. Norway himself, With terrible numbers, Assisted by that most disloyal traitor, The Thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict, Till that Bellonas bridegroom, lappd in proof, Confronted him with self-comparisons, Point against point, rebellious arm gainst arm, Curbing his lavish spirit and, to conclude, The victory fell on us.—
DUNCAN  Great happiness
ROSS  That now Sweno, the Norways king, craves composition, Nor would we deign him burial of his men Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmes Inch, Ten thousand dollars to our general use.
DUNCAN  No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive Our bosom interest. Go pronounce his present death, And with his former title greet Macbeth.
ROSS  Ill see it done.
DUNCAN  What he hath lost noble Macbeth hath won.
WITCH1  Where hast thou been, sister?
WITCH2  Killing swine.
WITCH3  Sister, where thou?
WITCH1  A sailors wife had chestnuts in her lap, And munchd, and munchd, and munchd Give me, quoth I Aroint thee, witch the rump-fed ronyon cries. Her husbands to Aleppo gone, master o the Tiger But in a sieve Ill thither sail, And, like a rat without a tail, Ill do, Ill do, and Ill do.
WITCH2  Ill give thee a wind.
WITCH1  Thourt kind.
WITCH3  And I another.
WITCH1  I myself have all the other, And the very ports they blow, All the quarters that they know I the shipmans card. Ill drain him dry as hay Sleep shall neither night nor day Hang upon his pent-house lid, He shall live a man forbid. Weary sennights nine times nine Shall he dwindle, peak and pine Though his bark cannot be lost, Yet it shall be tempest-tost. Look what I have.
WITCH2  Show me, show me.
WITCH1  Here I have a pilots thumb, Wrackd as homeward he did come.
WITCH3  A drum a drum Macbeth doth come.
ALL  The weird sisters, hand in hand, Posters of the sea and land, Thus do go about, about Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine, And thrice again, to make up nine. Peace the charms wound up.
MACBETH  So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
BANQUO  How far is t calld to Forres? What are these, So witherd and so wild in their attire, That look not like th inhabitants o the earth, And yet are on t? Live you? or are you aught That man may question? You seem to understand me, By each at once her choppy finger laying Upon her skinny lips you should be women, And yet your beards forbid me to interpret That you are so.
MACBETH  Speak, if you can what are you?
WITCH1  All hail, Macbeth hail to thee, Thane of Glamis
WITCH2  All hail, Macbeth hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor
WITCH3  All hail, Macbeth that shalt be king hereafter.
BANQUO  Good sir, why do you start, and seem to fear Things that do sound so fair? I the name of truth, Are ye fantastical, or that indeed Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner You greet with present grace and great prediction Of noble having and of royal hope, That he seems rapt withal to me you speak not. If you can look into the seeds of time, And say which grain will grow and which will not, Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear Your favours nor your hate.
WITCH1  Hail
WITCH2  Hail
WITCH3  Hail
WITCH1  Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
WITCH2  Not so happy, yet much happier.
WITCH3  Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none So, all hail, Macbeth and Banquo
WITCH1  Banquo and Macbeth, all hail
MACBETH  Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more By Sinels death I know I am Thane of Glamis, But how of Cawdor? the Thane of Cawdor lives, A prosperous gentleman, and to be king Stands not within the prospect of belief No more than to be Cawdor. Say, from whence You owe this strange intelligence? or why Upon this blasted heath you stop our way With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you.
BANQUO  The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, And these are of them. Whither are they vanishd?
MACBETH  Into the air, and what seemd corporal melted As breath into the wind. Would they had stayd
BANQUO  Were such things here as we do speak about? Or have we eaten on the insane root That takes the reason prisoner?
MACBETH  Your children shall be kings.
BANQUO  You shall be king.
MACBETH  And Thane of Cawdor too, went it not so?
BANQUO  To the self-same tune and words. Whos here?
ROSS  The king hath happily receivd, Macbeth, The news of thy success, and when he reads Thy personal venture in the rebels fight, His wonders and his praises do contend Which should be thine or his. Silencd with that, In viewing oer the rest o the self-same day, He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks, Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make, Strange images of death. As thick as hail Came post with post, and every one did bear Thy praises in his kingdoms great defence, And pourd them down before him.
ANGUS  We are sent To give thee from our royal master thanks, Only to herald thee into his sight, Not pay thee.
ROSS  And, for an earnest of a greater honour, He bade me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor In which addition, hail, most worthy thane For it is thine.
BANQUO  What can the devil speak true?
MACBETH  The Thane of Cawdor lives why do you dress me In borrowd robes?
ANGUS  Who was the thane lives yet, But under heavy judgment bears that life Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combind With those of Norway, or did line the rebel With hidden help or vantage, or that with both He labourd in his countrys wrack, I know not, But treasons capital, confessd and provd, Have overthrown him.
BANQUO  That, trusted home, Might yet enkindle you unto the crown, Besides the Thane of Cawdor. But tis strange And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles, to betrays In deepest consequence. Cousins, a word, I pray you.
Aside.  Cannot be ill, cannot be good, if ill, Why hath it given me earnest of success, Commencing in a truth? I am Thane of Cawdor If good, why do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, Against the use of nature? Present fears Are less than horrible imaginings, My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man that function Is smotherd in surmise, and nothing is But what is not.
BANQUO  Look, how our partners rapt.
Aside  Without my stir.
BANQUO  New honours come upon him, Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould But with the aid of use.
Aside.  Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.
BANQUO  Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.
MACBETH  Give me your favour my dull brain was wrought With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains Are registerd where every day I turn The leaf to read them. Let us toward the king. Think upon what hath chancd, and, at more time, The interim having weighd it, let us speak Our free hearts each to other.
BANQUO  Very gladly.
MACBETH  Till then, enough. Come, friends.
DUNCAN  Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not Those in commission yet returnd?
MALCOLM  My liege, They are not yet come back, but I have spoke With one that saw him die, who did report That very frankly he confessd his treasons, Implord your highness pardon and set forth A deep repentance. Nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it, he died As one that had been studied in his death To throw away the dearest thing he owd, As twere a careless trifle.
MACBETH  The service and the loyalty I owe, In doing it, pays itself. Your highness part Is to receive our duties and our duties Are to your throne and state, children and servants, Which do but what they should, by doing everything Safe toward your love and honour.
DUNCAN  Welcome hither I have begun to plant thee, and will labour To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo, That hast no less deservd, nor must be known No less to have done so, let me infold thee And hold thee to my heart.
BANQUO  There if I grow, The harvest is your own.
DUNCAN  My plenteous joys Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves In drops of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, thanes, And you whose places are the nearest, know We will establish our estate upon Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter The Prince of Cumberland, which honour must Not unaccompanied invest him only, But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine On all deservers. From hence to Inverness, And bind us further to you.
MACBETH  The rest is labour, which is not usd for you Ill be myself the harbinger, and make joyful The hearing of my wife with your approach, So, humbly take my leave.
DUNCAN  My worthy Cawdor
Aside.  On which I must fall down, or else oer-leap, For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires Let not light see my black and deep desires, The eye wink at the hand, yet let that be Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.
DUNCAN  True, worthy Banquo, he is full so valiant, And in his commendations I am fed, It is a banquet to me. Lets after him, Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome It is a peerless kinsman.
MESSENGER  The king comes here to-night.
MESSENGER  So please you, it is true our thane is coming, One of my fellows had the speed of him, Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more Than would make up his message.
MACBETH  My dearest love, Duncan comes here to-night.
MACBETH  To-morrow, as he purposes.
MACBETH  We will speak further.
DUNCAN  This castle hath a pleasant seat, the air Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself Unto our gentle senses.
BANQUO  This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve By his lovd mansionry that the heavens breath Smells wooingly here no jutty, frieze, Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle Where they most breed and haunt, I have observd The air is delicate.
DUNCAN  See, see, our honourd hostess The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you How you shall bid God eyld us for your pains, And thank us for your trouble.
DUNCAN  Wheres the Thane of Cawdor? We coursd him at the heels, and had a purpose To be his purveyor, but he rides well, And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp him To his home before us. Fair and noble hostess, We are your guest to-night.
DUNCAN  Give me your hand, Conduct me to mine host we love him highly, And shall continue our graces towards him. By your leave, hostess.
MACBETH  If it were done when tis done, then twere well It were done quickly, if the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch With his surcease success, that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, Wed jump the life to come. But in these cases We still have judgment here, that we but teach Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return To plague the inventor, this even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poisond chalice To our own lips. Hes here in double trust First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed, then, as his host, Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels trumpet-tongud against The deep damnation of his taking-off, And pity, like a naked new-born babe, Striding the blast, or heavens cherubin, horsd Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which oer-leaps itself And falls on the other.—
MACBETH  Hath he askd for me?
MACBETH  We will proceed no further in this business He hath honourd me of late, and I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people, Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, Not cast aside so soon.
MACBETH  Prithee, peace. I dare do all that may become a man, Who dares do more is none.
MACBETH  If we should fail,—
MACBETH  Bring forth men-children only, For thy undaunted mettle should compose Nothing but males. Will it not be receivd, When we have markd with blood those sleepy two Of his own chamber and usd their very daggers, That they have donet?
MACBETH  I am settled, and bend up Each corporal agent to this terrible feat. Away, and mock the time with fairest show False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
BANQUO  How goes the night, boy?
FLEANCE  The moon is down, I have not heard the clock.
BANQUO  And she goes down at twelve.
FLEANCE  I taket, tis later, sir.
MACBETH  A friend.
BANQUO  What, sir not yet at rest? The kings a-bed He hath been in unusual pleasure, and Sent forth great largess to your offices. This diamond he greets your wife withal, By the name of most kind hostess, and shut up In measureless content.
MACBETH  Being unprepard, Our will became the servant to defect, Which else should free have wrought.
BANQUO  Alls well. I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters To you they have showd some truth.
MACBETH  I think not of them Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve, We would spend it in some words upon that business, If you would grant the time.
BANQUO  At your kindst leisure.
MACBETH  If you shall cleave to my consent, when tis, It shall make honour for you.
BANQUO  So I lose none In seeking to augment it, but still keep My bosom franchisd and allegiance clear, I shall be counselld.
MACBETH  Good repose the while
BANQUO  Thanks, sir the like to you.
MACBETH  I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise?
MACBETH  When?
MACBETH  As I descended?
MACBETH  Hark Who lies i the second chamber?
MACBETH  Theres one did laugh in s sleep, and one cried Murder That they did wake each other I stood and heard them, But they did say their prayers, and addressd them Again to sleep.
MACBETH  One cried God bless us and Amen the other As they had seen me with these hangmans hands. Listening their fear, I could not say Amen, When they did say God bless us
MACBETH  But wherefore could not I pronounce Amen? I had most need of blessing, and Amen Stuck in my throat.
MACBETH  Methought I heard a voice cry Sleep no more Macbeth does murder sleep, the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravelld sleave of care, The death of each days life, sore labours bath, Balm of hurt minds, great natures second course, Chief nourisher in lifes feast,—
MACBETH  Still it cried, Sleep no more to all the house Glamis hath murderd sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more
MACBETH  Ill go no more I am afraid to think what I have done, Look on t again I dare not.
MACBETH  Whence is that knocking? How ist with me, when every noise appals me? What hands are here Ha they pluck out mine eyes. Will all great Neptunes ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red.
MACDUFF  Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed, That you do lie so late?
PORTER  Faith, sir, we were carousing till the second cock, and drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things.
MACDUFF  What three things does drink especially provoke?
PORTER  Marry, sir, mose-painting, sleep, and urine. Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes, it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance. Therefore much drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery, it makes him, and it mars him, it sets him on, and it takes him off, it persuades him, and disheartens him, makes him stand to, and not stand to, in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him.
MACDUFF  I believe drink gave thee the lie last night.
PORTER  That it did, sir, i the very throat o me but I requited him for his lie, and, I think, being too strong for him, though he took up my legs sometime, yet I made a shift to cast him.
MACDUFF  Is thy master stirring?
LENNOX  Good morrow, noble sir.
MACBETH  Good morrow, both.
MACDUFF  Is the king stirring, worthy thane?
MACBETH  Not yet.
MACDUFF  He did command me to call timely on him I have almost slippd the hour.
MACBETH  Ill bring you to him.
MACDUFF  I know this is a joyful trouble to you, But yet tis one.
MACBETH  The labour we delight in physics pain. This is the door.
MACDUFF  Ill make so bold to call, For tis my limited service.
LENNOX  Goes the king hence to-day?
MACBETH  He does he did appoint so.
LENNOX  The night has been unruly where we lay, Ourchimneys were blown down, and, as they say, Lamentings heard i the air, strange screams of death, And prophesying with accents terrible Of dire combustion and confusd events New hatchd to the woeful time. The obscure bird Clamourd the livelong night some say the earth Was feverous and did shake.
MACBETH  Twas a rough night.
LENNOX  My young remembrance cannot parallel A fellow to it.
MACDUFF  O horror horror horror Tongue nor heart Cannot conceive nor name thee
MACBETH  Whats the matter?
LENNOX  Whats the matter?
MACDUFF  Confusion now hath made his masterpiece Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope The Lords anointed temple, and stole thence The life o the building
MACBETH  What is t you say? the life?
LENNOX  Mean you his majesty?
BANQUO  Too cruel any where. Dear Duff, I prithee, contradict thyself, And say it is not so.
MACBETH  Had I but died an hour before this chance I had livd a blessed time, for, from this instant, Theres nothing serious in mortality, All is but toys, renown and grace is dead, The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.
DONALBAIN  What is amiss?
MACBETH  You are, and do not know t The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood Is stoppd, the very source of it is stoppd.
MACDUFF  Your royal fathers murderd.
MALCOLM  O by whom?
LENNOX  Those of his chamber, as it seemd, had done t Their hands and faces were all badgd with blood, So were their daggers, which unwipd we found Upon their pillows they stard, and were distracted, no mans life Was to be trusted with them.
MACBETH  O yet I do repent me of my fury, That I did kill them.
MACDUFF  Wherefore did you so?
MACBETH  Who can be wise, amazd, temperate and furious, Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man The expedition of my violent love Outran the pauser, reason. Here lay Duncan, His silver skin lacd with his golden blood, And his gashd stabs lookd like a breach in nature For ruins wasteful entrance there, the murderers, Steepd in the colours of their trade, their daggers Unmannerly breechd with gore who could refrain, That had a heart to love, and in that heart Courage to make s love known?
MACDUFF  Look to the lady.
MACDUFF  And so do I.
ALL  So all.
MACBETH  Lets briefly put on manly readiness, And meet i the hall together.
ALL  Well contented.
MALCOLM  What will you do? Lets not consort with them To show an unfelt sorrow is an office Which the false man does easy. Ill to England.
DONALBAIN  To Ireland, I, our separated fortune Shall keep us both the safer where we are, Theres daggers in mens smiles the near in blood, The nearer bloody.
MALCOLM  This murderous shaft thats shot Hath not yet lighted, and our safest way Is to avoid the aim therefore, to horse, And let us not be dainty of leave-taking, But shift away theres warrant in that theft Which steals itself when theres no mercy left.
ROSS  Ah good father, Thou seest, the heavens, as troubled with mans act, Threaten his bloody stage by the clock tis day, And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp. Is t nights predominance, or the days shame, That darkness does the face of earth entomb, When living light should kiss it?
ROSS  And Duncans horses,—a thing most strange and certain,— Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race, Turnd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out, Contending gainst obedience, as they would Make war with mankind.
ROSS  They did so, to the amazement of mine eyes, That lookd upon t. Here comes the good Macduff.
MACDUFF  Why, see you not?
ROSS  Is t known who did this more than bloody deed?
MACDUFF  Those that Macbeth hath slain.
ROSS  Alas, the day What good could they pretend?
MACDUFF  They were subornd. Malcolm and Donalbain, the kings two sons, Are stoln away and fled, which puts upon them Suspicion of the deed.
ROSS  Gainst nature still Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up Thine own lifes means Then tis most like The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth.
MACDUFF  He is already namd, and gone to Scone To be invested.
ROSS  Where is Duncans body?
MACDUFF  Carried to Colmekill, The sacred storehouse of his predecessors And guardian of their bones.
ROSS  Will you to Scone?
MACDUFF  No, cousin, Ill to Fife.
ROSS  Well, I will thither.
MACDUFF  Well, may you see things well done there adieu Lest our old robes sit easier than our new
ROSS  Farewell, father.
BANQUO  Thou hast it now King, Cawdor, Glamis, all, As the weird women promisd, and, I fear, Thou playdst most foully for t, yet it was said It should not stand in thy posterity, But that myself should be the root and father Of many kings. If there come truth from them,— As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine,— Why, by the verities on thee made good, May they not be my oracles as well, And set me up in hope? But, hush no more.
MACBETH  Heres our chief guest.
MACBETH  To-night we hold a solemn supper, sir, And Ill request your presence.
BANQUO  Let your highness Command upon me, to the which my duties Are with a most indissoluble tie For ever knit.
MACBETH  Ride you this afternoon?
BANQUO  Ay, my good lord.
MACBETH  We should have else desird your good advice— Which still hath been both grave and prosperous— In this days council, but well take to-morrow. Is t far you ride?
BANQUO  As far, my lord, as will fill up the time Twixt this and supper, go not my horse the better, I must become a borrower of the night For a dark hour or twain.
MACBETH  Fail not our feast.
BANQUO  My lord, I will not.
MACBETH  We hear our bloody cousins are bestowd In England and in Ireland, not confessing Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers With strange invention, but of that to-morrow, When therewithal we shall have cause of state Craving us jointly. Hie you to horse, adieu Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you?
BANQUO  Ay, my good lord our time does call upon s.
MACBETH  I wish your horses swift and sure of foot, And so I do commend you to their backs. Farewell. Let every man be master of his time Till seven at night, to make society The sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself Till supper-time alone, while then, God be with you Sirrah, a word with you. Attend those men Our pleasure?
ATTENDANT  They are, my lord, without the palace gate.
MURDERER1  It was, so please your highness.
MACBETH  Well then, now Have you considerd of my speeches? Know That it was he in the times past which held you So under fortune, which you thought had been Our innocent self. This I made good to you In our last conference, passd in probation with you, How you were borne in hand, how crossd, the instruments, Who wrought with them, and all things else that might To half a soul and to a notion crazd Say, Thus did Banquo.
MURDERER1  You made it known to us.
MACBETH  I did so, and went further, which is now Our point of second meeting. Do you find Your patience so predominant in your nature That you can let this go? Are you so gospelld To pray for this good man and for his issue, Whose heavy hand hath bowd you to the grave And beggard yours for ever?
MURDERER1  We are men, my liege.
MACBETH  Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men, As hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs, Shoughs, water-rugs, and demi-wolves, are clept All by the name of dogs the valud file Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, The housekeeper, the hunter, every one According to the gift which bounteous nature Hath in him closd, whereby he does receive Particular addition, from the bill That writes them all alike and so of men. Now, if you have a station in the file, Not i the worst rank of manhood, say it, And I will put that business in your bosoms, Whose execution takes your enemy off, Grapples you to the heart and love of us, Who wear our health but sickly in his life, Which in his death were perfect.
MURDERER2  I am one, my liege, Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world Have so incensd that I am reckless what I do to spite the world.
MURDERER1  And I another, So weary with disasters, tuggd with fortune, That I would set my life on any chance, To mend it or be rid on t.
MACBETH  Both of you Know Banquo was your enemy.
MURDERER2  True, my lord.
MACBETH  So is he mine, and in such bloody distance That every minute of his being thrusts Against my nearst of life and though I could With bare-facd power sweep him from my sight And bid my will avouch it, yet I must not, For certain friends that are both his and mine, Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall Whom I myself struck down, and thence it is That I to your assistance do make love, Masking the business from the common eye For sundry weighty reasons.
MURDERER2  We shall, my lord, Perform what you command us.
MURDERER1  Though our lives—
MACBETH  Your spirits shine through you. Within this hour at most I will advise you where to plant yourselves, Acquaint you with the perfect spy o the time, The moment on t, for t must be done to-night, And something from the palace, always thought That I require a clearness and with him— To leave no rubs nor botches in the work— Fleance his son, that keeps him company, Whose absence is no less material to me Than is his fathers, must embrace the fate Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart, Ill come to you anon.
MURDERER2  We are resolvd, my lord.
MACBETH  Ill call upon you straight abide within. It is concluded Banquo, thy souls flight, If it find heaven, must find it out to-night.
SERVANT  Ay, madam, but returns again to-night.
SERVANT  Madam, I will.
MACBETH  We have scotchd the snake, not killd it Shell close and be herself, whilst our poor malice Remains in danger of her former tooth. But let the frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer, Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep In the affliction of these terrible dreams That shake us nightly. Better be with the dead, Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave, After lifes fitful fever he sleeps well, Treason has done his worst nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing Can touch him further.
MACBETH  So shall I, love, and so, I pray, be you. Let your remembrance apply to Banquo, Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue Unsafe the while, that we Must lave our honours in these flattering streams, And make our faces vizards to our hearts, Disguising what they are.
MACBETH  O full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife, Thou knowst that Banquo and his Fleance lives.
MACBETH  Theres comfort yet, they are assailable, Then be thou jocund. Ere the bat hath flown His cloisterd flight, ere, to black Hecates summons The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums Hath rung nights yawning peal, there shall be done A deed of dreadful note.
MACBETH  Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck, Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day, And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale Light thickens, and the crow Makes wing to the rooky wood, Good things of day begin to droop and drowse, Whiles nights black agents to their preys do rouse. Thou marvellst at my words but hold thee still, Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill So, prithee, go with me.
MURDERER1  But who did bid thee join with us?
MURDERER3  Macbeth.
MURDERER2  He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers Our offices and what we have to do To the direction just.
MURDERER1  Then stand with us. The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day Now spurs the lated traveller apace To gain the timely inn, and near approaches The subject of our watch.
MURDERER3  Hark I hear horses.
MURDERER2  Then tis he the rest That are within the note of expectation Already are i the court.
MURDERER1  His horses go about.
MURDERER3  Almost a mile, but he does usually, So all men do, from hence to the palace gate Make it their walk.
MURDERER2  A light, a light
MURDERER3  Tis he.
MURDERER1  Stand to t.
BANQUO  It will be rain to-night.
MURDERER1  Let it come down.
BANQUO  O, treachery Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly Thou mayst revenge. O slave
MURDERER3  Who did strike out the light?
MURDERER1  Was t not the way?
MURDERER3  Theres but one down, the son is fled.
MURDERER2  We have lost Best half of our affair.
MURDERER1  Well, lets away, and say how much is done.
MACBETH  You know your own degrees, sit down at first and last, The hearty welcome.
LORDS  Thanks to your majesty.
MACBETH  Ourself will mingle with society And play the humble host. Our hostess keeps her state, but in best time We will require her welcome.
MURDERER  Tis Banquos, then.
MACBETH  Tis better thee without than he within. Is he dispatchd?
MURDERER  My lord, his throat is cut, that I did for him.
MACBETH  Thou art the best o the cut-throats, yet hes good That did the like for Fleance if thou didst it, Thou art the nonpareil.
MURDERER  Most royal sir, Fleance is scapd.
MACBETH  Then comes my fit again I had else been perfect, Whole as the marble, founded as the rock, As broad and general as the casing air But now I am cabind, cribbd, confind, bound in To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquos safe?
MURDERER  Ay, my good lord, safe in a ditch he bides, With twenty trenched gashes on his head, The least a death to nature.
MACBETH  Thanks for that. There the grown serpent lies the worm thats fled Hath nature that in time will venom breed, No teeth for the present. Get thee gone, to-morrow Well hear ourselves again.
MACBETH  Sweet remembrancer Now good digestion wait on appetite, And health on both
LENNOX  May it please your highness sit?
MACBETH  Here had we now our countrys honour roofd, Were the gracd person of our Banquo present, Who may I rather challenge for unkindness Than pity for mischance
ROSS  His absence, sir, Lays blame upon his promise. Please t your highness To grace us with your royal company.
MACBETH  The tables full.
LENNOX  Here is a place reservd, sir.
MACBETH  Where?
LENNOX  Here, my good lord. What is t that moves your highness?
MACBETH  Which of you have done this?
LORDS  What, my good lord?
MACBETH  Thou canst not say I did it never shake Thy gory locks at me.
ROSS  Gentlemen, rise, his highness is not well.
MACBETH  Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that Which might appal the devil.
MACBETH  Prithee, see there behold look lo how say you? Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too. If charnel-houses and our graves must send Those that we bury back, our monuments Shall be the maws of kites.
MACBETH  If I stand here, I saw him.
MACBETH  Blood hath been shed ere now, i the olden time, Ere human statute purgd the gentle weal, Ay, and since too, murders have been performd Too terrible for the ear the times have been, That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end, but now they rise again, With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, And push us from our stools this is more strange Than such a murder is.
MACBETH  I do forget. Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends, I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing To those that know me. Come, love and health to all, Then, Ill sit down. Give me some wine, fill full. I drink to the general joy of the whole table, And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss, Would he were here to all, and him, we thirst, And all to all.
LORDS  Our duties, and the pledge.
MACBETH  Avaunt and quit my sight Let the earth hide thee Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold, Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with.
MACBETH  Can such things be And overcome us like a summers cloud, Without our special wonder? You make me strange Even to the disposition that I owe, When now I think you can behold such sights, And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks, When mine are blanchd with fear.
ROSS  What sights, my lord?
LENNOX  Good-night, and better health Attend his majesty
MACBETH  It will have blood, they say, blood will have blood Stones have been known to move and trees to speak, Augurs and understood relations have By maggot-pies and choughs and rooks brought forth The secretst man of blood. What is the night?
MACBETH  How sayst thou, that Macduff denies his person At our great bidding?
MACBETH  I hear it by the way, but I will send. Theres not a one of them but in his house I keep a servant feed. I will to-morrow— And betimes I will—to the weird sisters More shall they speak, for now I am bent to know, By the worst means, the worst. For mine own good All causes shall give way I am in blood Steppd in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go oer. Strange things I have in head that will to hand, Which must be acted ere they may be scannd.
MACBETH  Come, well to sleep. My strange and self-abuse Is the initiate fear that wants hard use We are yet but young in deed.
WITCH1  Why, how now, Hecate you look angerly.
WITCH1  Come, lets make haste, shell soon be back again.
LENNOX  My former speeches have but hit your thoughts, Which can interpret further only, I say, Things have been strangely borne. The gracious Duncan Was pitied of Macbeth marry, he was dead And the right-valiant Banquo walkd too late, Whom, you may say, if t please you, Fleance killd, For Fleance fled men must not walk too late. Who cannot want the thought how monstrous It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain To kill their gracious father? damned fact How it did grieve Macbeth did he not straight In pious rage the two delinquents tear, That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep? Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too, For twould have angerd any heart alive To hear the men deny t. So that, I say, He has borne all things well, and I do think That, had he Duncans sons under his key,— As, an t please heaven, he shall not,—they should find What twere to kill a father, so should Fleance. But, peace for from broad words, and cause he faild. His presence at the tyrants feast, I hear, Macduff lives in disgrace. Sir, can you tell Where he bestows himself?
LORD  The son of Duncan, From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth, Lives in the English court, and is receivd Of the most pious Edward with such grace That the malevolence of fortune nothing Takes from his high respect. Thither Macduff Is gone to pray the holy king, upon his aid To wake Northumberland and war-like Siward That, by the help of these—with him above To ratify the work—we may again Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights, Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives, Do faithful homage and receive free honours, All which we pine for now. And this report Hath so exasperate the king that he Prepares for some attempt at war.
LENNOX  Sent he to Macduff?
LORD  He did and with an absolute, Sir, not I, The cloudy messenger turns me his back, And hums, as who should say, Youll rue the time That clogs me with this answer.
LENNOX  And that well might Advise him to a caution to hold what distance His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel Fly to the court of England and unfold His message ere he come, that a swift blessing May soon return to this our suffering country Under a hand accursd
LORD  Ill send my prayers with him
WITCH1  Thrice the brinded cat hath mewd.
WITCH2  Thrice and once the hedge-pig whind.
WITCH3  Harper cries Tis time, tis time.
WITCH1  Round about the cauldron go, In the poisond entrails throw. Toad, that under cold stone Days and nights hast thirty-one Swelterd venom sleeping got, Boil thou first i the charmed pot.
ALL  Double, double toil and trouble, Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
WITCH2  Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake, Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adders fork, and blind-worms sting, Lizards leg, and howlets wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
ALL  Double, double toil and trouble, Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
WITCH3  Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, Witches mummy, maw and gulf Of the ravind salt-sea shark, Root of hemlock diggd i the dark, Liver of blaspheming Jew, Gall of goat, and slips of yew Sliverd in the moons eclipse, Nose of Turk, and Tartars lips, Finger of birth-strangled babe Ditch-deliverd by a drab, Make the gruel thick and slab Add thereto a tigers chaudron, For the ingredients of our cauldron.
ALL  Double, double toil and trouble, Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
WITCH2  Cool it with a baboons blood, Then the charm is firm and good.
WITCH2  By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes. Open, locks, Whoever knocks.
MACBETH  How now, you secret, black, and mid-night hags What is t you do?
ALL  A deed without a name.
MACBETH  I conjure you, by that which you profess,— Howeer you come to know it,—answer me Though you untie the winds and let them fight Against the churches, though the yesty waves Confound and swallow navigation up, Though bladed corn be lodgd and trees blown down, Though castles topple on their warders heads, Though palaces and pyramids do slope Their heads to their foundations, though the treasure Of Natures germens tumble all together, Even till destruction sicken, answer me To what I ask you.
WITCH1  Speak.
WITCH2  Demand.
WITCH3  Well answer.
WITCH1  Say if thoudst rather hear it from our mouths, Or from our masters?
MACBETH  Call em let me see em.
WITCH1  Pour in sows blood, that hath eaten Her nine farrow, grease, thats sweaten From the murderers gibbet throw Into the flame.
ALL  Come, high or low, Thyself and office deftly show.
MACBETH  Tell me, thou unknown power,—
WITCH1  He knows thy thought Hear his speech, but say thou nought.
APPARITION1  Macbeth Macbeth Macbeth beware Macduff, Beware the Thane of Fife. Dismiss me. Enough.
MACBETH  Whateer thou art, for thy good caution thanks, Thou hast harpd my fear aright. But one word more,—
WITCH1  He will not be commanded heres another, More potent than the first.
APPARITION2  Macbeth Macbeth Macbeth—
MACBETH  Had I three ears, Id hear thee.
APPARITION2  Be bloody, bold, and resolute, laugh to scorn The power of man, for none of woman born Shall harm Macbeth.
ALL  Listen, but speak not to t.
APPARITION3  Be lion-mettled, proud, and take no care Who chafes, who frets or where conspirers are Macbeth shall never vanquishd be until Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill Shall come against him.
MACBETH  That will never be Who can impress the forest, bid the tree Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements good Rebellions head, rise never till the wood Of Birnam rise, and our high-placd Macbeth Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath To time and mortal custom. Yet my heart Throbs to know one thing tell me—if your art Can tell so much,—shall Banquos issue ever Reign in this kingdom?
ALL  Seek to know no more.
MACBETH  I will be satisfied deny me this, And an eternal curse fall on you Let me know. Why sinks that cauldron? and what noise is this?
WITCH1  Show
WITCH2  Show
WITCH3  Show
ALL  Show his eyes, and grieve his heart, Come like shadows, so depart.
WITCH1  Ay, sir, all this is so but why Stands Macbeth thus amazedly? Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites, And show the best of our delights. Ill charm the air to give a sound, While you perform your antick round, That this great king may kindly say, Our duties did his welcome pay.
MACBETH  Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour Stand aye accursed in the calendar Come in, without there
LENNOX  Whats your Graces will?
MACBETH  Saw you the weird sisters?
LENNOX  No, my lord.
MACBETH  Came they not by you?
LENNOX  No indeed, my lord.
MACBETH  Infected be the air whereon they ride, And damnd all those that trust them I did hear The galloping of horse who was t came by?
LENNOX  Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word Macduff is fled to England.
MACBETH  Fled to England
LENNOX  Ay, my good lord.
MACBETH  Time, thou anticipatst my dread exploits, The flighty purpose never is oertook Unless the deed go with it, from this moment The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand. And even now, To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done The castle of Macduff I will surprise, Seize upon Fife, give to the edge of the sword His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls That trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool, This deed Ill do, before this purpose cool But no moresights Where are these gentlemen? Come, bring me where they are.
ROSS  You must have patience, madam.
ROSS  You know not Whether it was his wisdom or his fear.
ROSS  My dearest coz, I pray you, school yourself but, for your husband, He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows The fits o the season. I dare not speak much further But cruel are the times, when we are traitors And do not know ourselves, when we hold rumour From what we fear, yet know not what we fear, But float upon a wild and violent sea Each way and move. I take my leave of you Shall not be long but Ill be here again. Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward To what they were before. My pretty cousin, Blessing upon you
ROSS  I am so much a fool, should I stay longer, It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort I take my leave at once.
SON  As birds do, mother.
SON  With what I get, I mean, and so do they.
SON  Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for. My father is not dead, for all your saying.
SON  Nay, how will you do for a husband?
SON  Then youll buy em to sell again.
SON  Was my father a traitor, mother?
SON  What is a traitor?
SON  And be all traitors that do so?
SON  And must they all be hanged that swear and lie?
SON  Who must hang them?
SON  Then the liars and swearers are fools, for there are liars and swearers enow to beat the honest men, and hang up them.
SON  If he were dead, youd weep for him if you would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father.
MESSENGER  Bless you, fair dame I am not to you known, Though in your state of honour I am perfect. I doubt some danger does approach you nearly If you will take a homely mans advice, Be not found here, hence, with your little ones. To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage, To do worse to you were fell cruelty, Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you I dare abide no longer.
MURDERER  Where is your husband?
MURDERER  Hes a traitor.
SON  Thou liest, thou shag-haird villain.
MURDERER  What you egg. Young fry of treachery
SON  He has killed me, mother Run away, I pray you
MALCOLM  Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there Weep our sad bosoms empty.
MACDUFF  Let us rather Hold fast the mortal sword, and like good men Bestride our down-falln birthdom, each new morn New widowshowl, new orphans cry, new sorrows Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds As if it felt with Scotland and yelld out Like syllable of dolour.
MALCOLM  What I believe Ill wail, What know believe, and what I can redress, As I shall find the time to friend, I will. What you have spoke, it may be so perchance. This tyrant, whosesole name blisters our tongues, Was once thought honest you have lovd him well, He hath not touchd you yet. I am young, but something You may deserve of him through me, and wisdom To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb To appease an angry god.
MACDUFF  I am not treacherous.
MALCOLM  But Macbeth is. A good and virtuous nature may recoil In an imperial charge. But I shall crave your pardon, That which you are my thoughts cannot transpose, Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell, Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, Yet grace must still look so.
MACDUFF  I have lost my hopes.
MALCOLM  Perchance even there where I did find my doubts. Why in that rawness left you wife and child— Those precious motives, those strong knots of love— Without leave-taking? I pray you, Let not my jealousies be your dishonours, But mine own safeties you may be rightly just, Whatever I shall think.
MACDUFF  Bleed, bleed, poor country Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure, For goodness dares not check thee wear thou thy wrongs, The title is affeerd Fare thee well, lord I would not be the villain that thou thinkst For the whole space thats in the tyrants grasp, And the rich East to boot.
MALCOLM  Be not offended I speak not as in absolute fear of you. I think our country sinks beneath the yoke, It weeps, it bleeds, and each new day a gash Is added to her wounds I think withal, There would be hands uplifted in my right, And here from gracious England have I offer Of goodly thousands but, for all this, When I shall tread upon the tyrants head, Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country Shall have more vices than it had before, More suffer, and more sundry ways than ever, By him that shall succeed.
MACDUFF  What should he be?
MALCOLM  It is myself I mean, in whom I know All the particulars of vice so grafted, That, when they shall be opend, black Macbeth Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state Esteem him as a lamb, being compard With my confineless harms.
MACDUFF  Not in the legions Of horrid hell can come a devil more damnd In evils to top Macbeth.
MALCOLM  I grant him bloody, Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful, Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin That has a name, but theres no bottom, none, In my voluptuousness your wives, your daughters, Your matrons, and your maids, could not fill up The cistern of my lust, and my desire All continent impediments would oerbear That did oppose my will, better Macbeth Than such an one to reign.
MACDUFF  Boundless intemperance In nature is a tyranny, it hath been Th untimely emptying of the happy throne, And fall of many kings. But fear not yet To take upon you what is yours, you may Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty, And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink. We have willing dames enough, there cannot be That vulture in you, to devour so many As will to greatness dedicate themselves, Finding it so inclind.
MALCOLM  With this there grows In my most ill-composd affection such A stanchless avarice that, were I king, I should cut off the nobles for their lands, Desire his jewels and this others house, And my more-having would be as a sauce To make me hunger more, that I should forge Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal, Destroying them for wealth.
MACDUFF  This avarice Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root Than summer-seeming lust, and it hath been The sword of our slain kings yet do not fear, Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will, Of your mere own, all these are portable, With other graces weighd.
MALCOLM  But I have none the king-becoming graces, As justice, verity, temperance, stableness, Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude, I have no relish of them, but abound In the division of each several crime, Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth.
MACDUFF  O Scotland, Scotland
MALCOLM  If such a one be fit to govern, speak I am as I have spoken.
MACDUFF  Fit to govern No, not to live. O nation miserable, With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepterd, When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again, Since that the truest issue of thy throne By his own interdiction stands accursd, And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal father Was a most sainted king, the queen that bore thee, Oftner upon her knees than on her feet, Died every day she livd. Fare thee well These evils thou repeatst upon thyself Have banishd me from Scotland. O my breast, Thy hope ends here
MALCOLM  Macduff, this noble passion, Child of integrity, hath from my soul Wipd the black scruples, reconcild my thoughts To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth By many of these trains hath sought to win me Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me From over-credulous haste, but God above Deal between thee and me for even now I put myself to thy direction, and Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure The taints and blames I laid upon myself, For strangers to my nature. I am yet Unknown to woman, never was forsworn, Scarcely have coveted what was mine own, At no time broke my faith, would not betray The devil to his fellow, and delight No less in truth than life, my first false speaking Was this upon myself. What I am truly, Is thine and my poor countrys to command, Whither indeed, before thy here-approach, Old Siward, with ten thousand war-like men, Already at a point, was setting forth. Now well together, and the chance of goodness Be like our warranted quarrel. Why are you silent?
MACDUFF  Such welcome and unwelcome things at once Tis hard to reconcile.
MALCOLM  Well, more anon. Comes the king forth, I pray you?
DOCTOR  Ay, sir, there are a crew of wretched souls That stay his cure, their malady convinces The great assay of art, but, at his touch, Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand, They presently amend.
MALCOLM  I thank you, doctor.
MACDUFF  Whats the disease he means?
MALCOLM  Tis calld the evil A most miraculous work in this good king, Which often, since my here-remain in England, I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven, Himself best knows, but strangely-visited people, All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye, The mere despair of surgery, he cures, Hanging a golden stamp about their necks, Put on with holy prayers, and tis spoken To the succeeding royalty he leaves The healing benediction. With this strange virtue, He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy, And sundry blessings hang about his throne That speak him full of grace.
MACDUFF  See, who comes here?
MALCOLM  My countryman, but yet I know him not.
MACDUFF  My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.
MALCOLM  I know him now. Good God, betimes remove The means that make us strangers
ROSS  Sir, amen.
MACDUFF  Stands Scotland where it did?
ROSS  Alas poor country, Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot Be calld our mother, but our grave, where nothing, But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile, Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rent the air Are made, not markd, where violent sorrow seems A modern ecstasy, the dead mans knell Is there scarce askd for who, and good mens lives Expire before the flowers in their caps, Dying or ere they sicken.
MACDUFF  O relation Too nice, and yet too true
MALCOLM  Whats the newest grief?
ROSS  That of an hours age doth hiss the speaker, Each minute teems a new one.
MACDUFF  How does my wife?
ROSS  Why, well.
MACDUFF  And all my children?
ROSS  Well too.
MACDUFF  The tyrant has not batterd at their peace?
ROSS  No, they were well at peace when I did leave em.
MACDUFF  Be not a niggard of your speech how goes t?
ROSS  When I came hither to transport the tidings, Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour Of many worthy fellows that were out, Which was to my belief witnessd the rather For that I saw the tyrants power a-foot. Now is the time of help, your eye in Scotland Would create soldiers, make our women fight, To doff their dire distresses.
MALCOLM  Be t their comfort, We are coming thither. Gracious England hath Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men, An older and a better soldier none That Christendom gives out.
ROSS  Would I could answer This comfort with the like But I have words That would be howld out in the desert air, Where hearing should not latch them.
MACDUFF  What concern they? The general cause? or is it a fee-grief Due to some single breast?
ROSS  No mind thats honest But in it shares some woe, though the main part Pertains to you alone.
MACDUFF  If it be mine Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.
ROSS  Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever, Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound That ever yet they heard.
MACDUFF  Hum I guess at it.
ROSS  Your castle is surprisd, your wife and babes Savagely slaughterd, to relate the manner, Were, on the quarry of these murderd deer, To add the death of you.
MALCOLM  Merciful heaven What man, neer pull your hat upon your brows, Give sorrow words, the grief that does not speak Whispers the oer-fraught heart and bids it break.
MACDUFF  My children too?
ROSS  Wife, children, servants, all That could be found.
MACDUFF  And I must be from thence My wife killd too?
ROSS  I have said.
MALCOLM  Be comforted Lets make us medicine of our great revenge, To cure this deadly grief.
MACDUFF  He has no children. All my pretty ones? Did you say all? O hell-kite All? What all my pretty chickens and their dam At one fell swoop?
MALCOLM  Dispute it like a man.
MACDUFF  I shall do so, But I must also feel it as a man I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on, And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff They were all struck for thee. Naught that I am, Not for their own demerits, but for mine, Fell slaughter on their souls. Heaven rest them now
MALCOLM  Be this the whetstone of your sword let grief Convert to anger, blunt not the heart, enrage it.
MACDUFF  O I could play the woman with mine eyes, And braggart with my tongue. But, gentle heavens, Cut short all intermission, front to front Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself, Within my swords length set him, if he scape, Heaven forgive him too
MALCOLM  This tune goes manly. Come, go we to the king, our power is ready, Our lack is nothing but our leave. Macbeth Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may, The night is long that never finds the day.
DOCTOR  I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked?
GENTLEWOMAN  Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon t, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed, yet all this while in a most fast sleep.
DOCTOR  A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once the benefit of sleep and do the effects of watching In this slumbery agitation, besides her walking and other actual performances, what, at any time, have you heard her say?
GENTLEWOMAN  That, sir, which I will not report after her.
DOCTOR  You may to me, and tis most meet you should.
GENTLEWOMAN  Neither to you nor any one, having no witness to confirm my speech.
DOCTOR  How came she by that light?
GENTLEWOMAN  Why, it stood by her she has light by her continually, tis her command.
DOCTOR  You see, her eyes are open.
GENTLEWOMAN  Ay, but their sense is shut.
DOCTOR  What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands.
GENTLEWOMAN  It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus washing her hands. I have known her to continue in this a quarter of an hour.
DOCTOR  Hark she speaks. I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.
DOCTOR  Do you mark that?
DOCTOR  Go to, go to, you have known what you should not.
GENTLEWOMAN  She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that Heaven knows what she has known.
DOCTOR  What a sigh is there The heart is sorely charged.
GENTLEWOMAN  I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the dignity of the whole body.
DOCTOR  Well, well, well.
GENTLEWOMAN  Pray God it be, sir.
DOCTOR  This disease is beyond my practice yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep who have died holily in their beds.
DOCTOR  Even so?
DOCTOR  Will she go now to bed?
GENTLEWOMAN  Directly.
DOCTOR  Foul whisperings are abroad. Unnatural deeds Do breed unnatural troubles, infected minds To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets, More needs she the divine than the physician. God, God forgive us all Look after her, Remove from her the means of all annoyance, And still keep eyes upon her. So, good-night My mind she has mated, and amazd my sight. I think, but dare not speak.
GENTLEWOMAN  Good-night, good doctor.
MENTEITH  The English power is near, led on by Malcolm, His uncle Siward, and the good Macduff. Revenges burn in them, for their dear causes Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm Excite the mortified man.
ANGUS  Near Birnam wood Shall we well meet them, that way are they coming.
CAITHNESS  Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother?
LENNOX  For certain, sir, he is not I have a file Of all the gentry there is Siwards son, And many unrough youths that even now Protest their first of manhood.
MENTEITH  What does the tyrant?
CAITHNESS  Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies. Some say hes mad, others that lesser hate him Do call it valiant fury, but, for certain, He cannot buckle his distemperd cause Within the belt of rule.
ANGUS  Now does he feel His secret murders sticking on his hands, Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach, Those he commands move only in command, Nothing in love, now does he feel his title Hang loose about him, like a giants robe Upon a dwarfish thief.
MENTEITH  Who then shall blame His pesterd senses to recoil and start, When all that is within him does condemn Itself for being there?
CAITHNESS  Well, march we on, To give obedience where tis truly owd, Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal, And with him pour we in our countrys purge Each drop of us.
LENNOX  Or so much as it needs To dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds. Make we our march towards Birnam.
SERVANT  There is ten thousand—
MACBETH  Geese, villain?
SERVANT  Soldiers, sir.
MACBETH  Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear, Thou lily-liverd boy. What soldiers, patch? Death of thy soul those linen cheeks of thine Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, wheyface?
SERVANT  The English force, so please you.
MACBETH  When I behold—Seyton, I say—This push Will cheer me ever or disseat me now. I have livd long enough my way of life Is falln into the sear, the yellow leaf, And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have, but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not. Seyton
SEYTON  What is your gracious pleasure?
MACBETH  What news more?
SEYTON  All is confirmd, my lord, which was reported.
MACBETH  Ill fight till from my bones my flesh be hackd. Give me my armour.
SEYTON  Tis not needed yet.
MACBETH  Ill put it on. Send out more horses, skirr the country round, Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armour. How does your patient, doctor?
DOCTOR  Not so sick, my lord, As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies, That keep her from her rest.
MACBETH  Cure her of that Canst thou not minister to a mind diseasd, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain, And with some sweet oblivious antidote Cleanse the stuffd bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart?
DOCTOR  Therein the patient Must minister to himself.
MACBETH  Throw physic to the dogs, Ill none of it. Come, put mine armour on, give me my staff. Seyton, send out.—Doctor, the thanes fly from me.— Come, sir, dispatch.—If thou couldst, doctor, cast The water of my land, find her disease, And purge it to a sound and pristine health, I would applaud thee to the very echo, That should applaud again.—Pull t off, I say.— What rhubarb, senna, or what purgative drug Would scour these English hence? Hearst thou of them?
DOCTOR  Ay, my good lord, your royal preparation Makes us hear something.
MACBETH  Bring it after me. I will not be afraid of death and bane Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.
Aside.  Profit again should hardly draw me here.
MALCOLM  Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand That chambers will be safe.
MENTEITH  We doubt it nothing.
SIWARD  What wood is this before us?
MENTEITH  The wood of Birnam.
MALCOLM  Let every soldier hew him down a bough And bear t before him thereby shall we shadow The numbers of our host, and make discovery Err in report of us.
SOLDIER  It shall be done.
SIWARD  We learn no other but the confident tyrant Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure Our setting down before t.
MALCOLM  Tis his main hope, For where there is advantage to be given, Both more and less have given him the revolt, And none serve with him but constrained things Whose hearts are absent too.
MACDUFF  Let our just censures Attend the true event, and put we on Industrious soldiership.
SIWARD  The time approaches That will with due decision make us know What we shall say we have and what we owe. Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate, But certain issue strokes must arbitrate, Towards which advance the war.
SEYTON  It is the cry of women, my good lord.
MACBETH  I have almost forgot the taste of fears. The time has been my senses would have coold To hear a night-shriek, and my fell of hair Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir As life were in t. I have suppd full with horrors, Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, Cannot once start me.
SEYTON  The queen, my lord, is dead.
MACBETH  She should have died hereafter, There would have been a time for such a word. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle Lifes but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more, it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.
MESSENGER  Gracious my lord, I should report that which I say I saw, But know not how to do it.
MACBETH  Well, say, sir.
MESSENGER  As I did stand my watch upon the hill, I lookd towards Birnam, and anon, methought, The wood began to move.
MACBETH  Liar and slave
MESSENGER  Let me endure your wrath ift be not so Within this three mile may you see it coming, I say, a moving grove.
MACBETH  If thou speakst false, Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive, Till famine cling thee, if thy speech be sooth, I care not if thou dost for me as much. I pull in resolution and begin To doubt the equivocation of the fiend That lies like truth, Fear not, till Birnam wood Do come to Dunsinane, and now a wood Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out If this which he avouches does appear, There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here. I gin to be aweary of the sun, And wish the estate o the world were now undone. Ring the alarum-bell Blow, wind come, wrack At least well die with harness on our back.
MALCOLM  Now near enough, your leavy screens throw down, And show like those you are. You, worthy uncle, Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son, Lead our first battle, worthy Macduff and we Shall take upon s what else remains to do, According to our order.
SIWARD  Fare you well. Do we but find the tyrants power to-night, Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight.
MACDUFF  Make all our trumpets speak, give them all breath, Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death.
MACBETH  They have tied me to a stake, I cannot fly, But bear-like I must fight the course. Whats he That was not born of woman? Such a one Am I to fear, or none.
MACBETH  Thoult be afraid to hear it.
MACBETH  My names Macbeth.
MACBETH  No, nor more fearful.
MACBETH  Thou wast born of woman But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, Brandishd by man thats of a woman born.
MACDUFF  That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face If thou best slain and with no stroke of mine, My wife and childrens ghosts will haunt me still. I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms Are hird to bear their staves either thou, Macbeth, Or else my sword with an unbatterd edge I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be, By this great clatter, one of greatest note Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune And more I beg not.
SIWARD  This way, my lord, the castles gently renderd The tyrants people on both sides do fight, The noble thanes do bravely in the war, The day almost itself professes yours, And little is to do.
MALCOLM  We have met with foes That strike beside us.
SIWARD  Enter, sir, the castle.
MACBETH  Why should I play the Roman fool, and die On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes Do better upon them.
MACDUFF  Turn, hell-hound, turn
MACBETH  Of all men else I have avoided thee But get thee back, my soul is too much chargd With blood of thine already.
MACDUFF  I have no words, My voice is in my sword, thou bloodier villain Than terms can give thee out
MACBETH  Thou losest labour As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests, I bear a charmed life, which must not yield To one of woman born.
MACDUFF  Despair thy charm, And let the angel whom thou still hast servd Tell thee, Macduff was from his mothers womb Untimely rippd.
MACBETH  Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, For it hath cowd my better part of man And be these juggling fiends no more believd, That palter with us in a double sense, That keep the word of promise to our ear, And break it to our hope. Ill not fight with thee.
MACDUFF  Then yield thee, coward, And live to be the show and gaze o the time Well have thee, as our rarer monsters are, Painted upon a pole, and underwrit, Here may you see the tyrant.
MACBETH  I will not yield, To kiss the ground before young Malcolms feet, And to be baited with the rabbles curse. Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane, And thou opposd, being of no woman born, Yet I will try the last before my body I throw my war-like shield. Lay on, Macduff, And damnd be him that first cries, Hold, enough
MALCOLM  I would the friends we miss were safe arrivd.
SIWARD  Some must go off, and yet, by these I see, So great a day as this is cheaply bought.
MALCOLM  Macduff is missing, and your noble son.
ROSS  Your son, my lord, has paid a soldiers debt He only livd but till he was a man, The which no sooner had his prowess confirmd In the unshrinking station where he fought, But like a man he died.
SIWARD  Then he is dead?
ROSS  Ay, and brought off the field. Your cause of sorrow Must not be measurd by his worth, for then It hath no end.
SIWARD  Had he his hurts before?
ROSS  Ay, on the front.
SIWARD  Why then, Gods soldier be he Had I as many sons as I have hairs, I would not wish them to a fairer death And so, his knell is knolld.
MALCOLM  Hes worth more sorrow, And that Ill spend for him.
SIWARD  Hes worth no more, They say, he parted well, and paid his score And so, God be with him Here comes newer comfort.
MACDUFF  Hail, king for so thou art. Behold, where stands The usurpers cursed head the time is free I see thee compassd with thy kingdoms pearl, That speak my salutation in their minds, Whose voices I desire aloud with mine, Hail, King of Scotland
ALL  Hail, King of Scotland
MALCOLM  We shall not spend a large expense of time Before we reckon with your several loves, And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmen, Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland In such an honour namd. Whats more to do, Which would be planted newly with the time, As calling home our exild friends abroad That fled the snares of watchful tyranny, Producing forth the cruel ministers Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen, Who, as tis thought, by self and violent hands Took off her life, this, and what needful else That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace We will perform in measure, time, and place So, thanks to all at once and to each one, Whom we invite to see us crownd at Scone.
RODERIGO  Tush Never tell me, I take it much unkindly That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.
IAGO  Sblood, but you will not hear me If ever I did dream of such a matter, Abhor me.
RODERIGO  Thou toldst me thou didst hold him in thy hate.
IAGO  Despise me if I do not. Three great ones of the city, In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, Off-cappd to him, and, by the faith of man. I know my price, I am worth no worse a place, But he, as loving his own pride and purposes, Evades them, with a bombast circumstance Horribly stuffd with epithets of war, And, in conclusion, Nonsuits my mediators, for, Certes, says he, I have already chose my officer. And what was he? Forsooth, a great arithmetician, One Michael Cassio, a Florentine, A fellow almost damnd in a fair wife, That never set a squadron in the field, Nor the division of a battle knows More than a spinster, unless the bookish theoric, Wherein the toged consuls can propose As masterly as he mere prattle, without practice, Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election, And I—of whom his eyes had seen the proof At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds Christian and heathen—must be be-leed and calmd By debitor and creditor, this counter caster, He, in good time, must his lieutenant be, And I—God bless the mark—his Moorships ancient.
RODERIGO  By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman.
IAGO  Why, theres no remedy tis the curse of the service, Preferment goes by letter and affection, Not by the old gradation, where each second Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself, Wher I in any just term am affind To love the Moor.
RODERIGO  I would not follow him then.
IAGO  O sir, content you, I follow him to serve my turn upon him, We cannot all be masters, nor all masters Cannot be truly followd. You shall mark Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave, That, doting on his own obsequious bondage, Wears out his time, much like his masters ass, For nought but provender, and when hes old, cashierd, Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are Who, trimmd in forms and visages of duty, Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves, And, throwing but shows of service on their lords, Do well thrive by them, and when they have lind their coats Do themselves homage these fellows have some soul, And such a one do I profess myself. For, sir, It is as sure as you are Roderigo, Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago In following him, I follow but myself, Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, But seeming so, for my peculiar end For when my outward action doth demonstrate The native act and figure of my heart In compliment extern, tis not long after But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at I am not what I am.
RODERIGO  What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe, If he can carry t thus
IAGO  Call up her father, Rouse him, make after him, poison his delight, Proclaim him in the streets, incense her kinsmen, And, though he in a fertile climate dwell, Plague him with flies, though that his joy be joy, Yet throw such changes of vexation on t As it may lose some colour.
RODERIGO  Here is her fathers house, Ill call aloud.
IAGO  Do, with like timorous accent and dire yell As when, by night and negligence, the fire Is spied in populous cities.
RODERIGO  What, ho Brabantio Signior Brabantio, ho
IAGO  Awake what, ho Brabantio thieves thieves thieves Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags Thieves thieves
BRABANTIO  What is the reason of this terrible summons? What is the matter there?
RODERIGO  Signior, is all your family within?
IAGO  Are your doors lockd?
BRABANTIO  Why? wherefore ask you this?
IAGO  Zounds sir, youre robbd, for shame, put on your gown, Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul, Even now, now, very now, an old black ram Is tupping your white ewe. Arise, arise Awake the snorting citizens with the bell, Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you. Arise, I say.
BRABANTIO  What have you lost your wits?
RODERIGO  Most reverend signior, do you know my voice?
BRABANTIO  Not I, what are you?
RODERIGO  My name is Roderigo.
BRABANTIO  The worser welcome I have chargd thee not to haunt about my doors In honest plainness thou hast heard me say My daughter is not for thee, and now, in madness, Being full of supper and distempering draughts, Upon malicious knavery dost thou come To start my quiet.
RODERIGO  Sir, sir, sir
BRABANTIO  But thou must needs be sure My spirit and my place have in them power To make this bitter to thee.
RODERIGO  Patience, good sir.
BRABANTIO  What tellst thou me of robbing? this is Venice, My house is not a grange.
RODERIGO  Most grave Brabantio, In simple and pure soul I come to you.
IAGO  Zounds sir, you are one of those that will not serve God if the devil bid you. Because we come to do you service and you think we are ruffians, youll have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse, youll have your nephews neigh to you, youll have coursers for cousins and gennets for germans.
BRABANTIO  What profane wretch art thou?
IAGO  I am one, sir, that comes to tell you, your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.
BRABANTIO  Thou art a villain.
IAGO  You are—a senator.
BRABANTIO  This thou shalt answer, I know thee, Roderigo.
RODERIGO  Sir, I will answer any thing. But, I beseech you, If t be your pleasure and most wise consent,— As partly, I find, it is,—that your fair daughter, At this odd-even and dull-watch o the night, Transported with no worse nor better guard But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier, To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor,— If this be known to you, and your allowance, We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs, But if you know not this, my manners tell me We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe, That, from the sense of all civility, I thus would play and trifle with your reverence Your daughter, if you have not given her leave, I say again, hath made a gross revolt, Tying her duty, beauty, wit and fortunes In an extravagant and wheeling stranger Of here and every where. Straight satisfy yourself If she be in her chamber or your house, Let loose on me the justice of the state For thus deluding you.
BRABANTIO  Strike on the tinder, ho Give me a taper call up all my people This accident is not unlike my dream, Belief of it oppresses me already. Light, I say light
IAGO  Farewell, for I must leave you It seems not meet nor wholesome to my place To be producd, as, if I stay, I shall, Against the Moor, for, I do know the state, However this may gall him with some check, Cannot with safety cast him, for hes embarkd With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars,— Which even now stand in act,—that, for their souls, Another of his fathom they have none, To lead their business, in which regard, Though I do hate him as I do hell-pains, Yet, for necessity of present life, I must show out a flag and sign of love, Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely find him, Lead to the Sagittary the raised search, And there will I be with him. So, farewell.
BRABANTIO  It is too true an evil gone she is, And whats to come of my despised time Is nought but bitterness. Now, Roderigo, Where didst thou see her? O, unhappy girl With the Moor, sayst thou? Who would be a father How didst thou know twas she? O, she deceives me Past thought. What said she to you? Get more tapers Raise all my kindred Are they married, think you?
RODERIGO  Truly, I think they are.
BRABANTIO  O heaven How got she out? O, treason of the blood Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters minds By what you see them act. Are there not charms By which the property of youth and maidhood May be abusd? Have you not read, Roderigo, Of some such thing?
RODERIGO  Yes, sir, I have indeed.
BRABANTIO  Call up my brother. O that you had had her. Some one way, some another Do you know Where we may apprehend her and the Moor?
RODERIGO  I think I can discover him, if you please To get good guard and go along with me.
BRABANTIO  Pray you, lead on. At every house Ill call, I may command at most. Get weapons, ho And raise some special officers of night. On, good Roderigo, Ill deserve your pains.
IAGO  Though in the trade of war I have slain men, Yet do I hold it very stuff o the conscience To do no contrivd murder I lack iniquity Sometimes to do me service. Nine or ten times I had thought to have yerkd him here under the ribs.
OTHELLO  Tis better as it is.
IAGO  Nay, but he prated, And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms Against your honour That, with the little godliness I have, I did full hard forbear him. But, I pray, sir, Are you fast married? Be assurd of this, That the magnifico is much belovd, And hath in his effect a voice potential As double as the dukes, he will divorce you, Or put upon you what restraint and grievance The law—with all his might to enforce it on— Will give him cable.
OTHELLO  Let him do his spite My services which I have done the signiory Shall out-tongue his complaints. Tis yet to know, Which when I know that boasting is an honour I shall promulgate, I fetch my life and being From men of royal siege, and my demerits May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune As this that I have reachd, for know, Iago, But that I love the gentle Desdemona, I would not my unhoused free condition Put into circumscription and confine For the seas worth. But, look what lights come yond?
IAGO  Those are the raised father and his friends You were best go in.
OTHELLO  Not I, I must be found My parts, my title, and my perfect soul Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they?
IAGO  By Janus, I think no.
OTHELLO  The servants of the duke, and my lieutenant. The goodness of the night upon you, friends What is the news?
CASSIO  The duke does greet you, general, And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance, Even on the instant.
OTHELLO  What is the matter, think you?
CASSIO  Something from Cyprus, as I may divine. It is a business of some heat, the galleys Have sent a dozen sequent messengers This very night at one anothers heels, And many of the consuls, raisd and met, Are at the dukes already. You have been hotly calld for, When, being not at your lodging to be found, The senate hath sent about three several quests To search you out.
OTHELLO  Tis well I am found by you. I will but spend a word here in the house, And go with you.
CASSIO  Ancient, what makes he here?
IAGO  Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land carrack, If it prove lawful prize, hes made for ever.
CASSIO  I do not understand.
IAGO  Hes married.
CASSIO  To who?
IAGO  Marry, to—Come, captain, will you go?
OTHELLO  Have with you.
CASSIO  Here comes another troop to seek for you.
IAGO  It is Brabantio. General, be advisd, He comes to bad intent.
OTHELLO  Holla stand there
RODERIGO  Signior, it is the Moor.
BRABANTIO  Down with him, thief
IAGO  You, Roderigo come, sir, I am for you.
OTHELLO  Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them. Good signior, you shall more command with years Than with your weapons.
BRABANTIO  O thou foul thief where hast thou stowd my daughter? Damnd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her, For Ill refer me to all things of sense, If she in chains of magic were not bound, Whether a maid so tender, fair, and happy, So opposite to marriage that she shunnd The wealthy curled darlings of our nation, Would ever have, to incur a general mock, Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom Of such a thing as thou, to fear, not to delight. Judge me the world, if tis not gross in sense That thou hast practisd on her with foul charms, Abusd her delicate youth with drugs or minerals That weaken motion Ill have t disputed on, Tis probable, and palpable to thinking. I therefore apprehend and do attach thee For an abuser of the world, a practiser Of arts inhibited and out of warrant. Lay hold upon him if he do resist, Subdue him at his peril.
OTHELLO  Hold your hands, Both you of my inclining, and the rest Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it Without a prompter. Where will you that I go To answer this your charge?
BRABANTIO  To prison, till fit time Of law and course of direct session Call thee to answer.
OTHELLO  What if I do obey? How may the duke be therewith satisfied, Whose messengers are here about my side, Upon some present business of the state To bring me to him?
OFFICER  Tis true, most worthy signior, The dukes in council, and your noble self, I am sure, is sent for.
BRABANTIO  How the duke in council In this time of the night Bring him away. Mines not an idle cause the duke himself, Or any of my brothers of the state, Cannot but feel this wrong as twere their own, For if such actions may have passage free, Bond-slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be.
DUKE  There is no composition in these news That gives them credit.
SENATOR1  Indeed, they are disproportiond, My letters say a hundred and seven galleys.
DUKE  And mine, a hundred and forty.
SENATOR2  And mine, two hundred But though they jump not on a just account,— As in these cases, where the aim reports, Tis oft with difference,—yet do they all confirm A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.
DUKE  Nay, it is possible enough to judgment I do not so secure me in the error, But the main article I do approve In fearful sense.
OFFICER  A messenger from the galleys.
DUKE  Now, whats the business?
SAILOR  The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes, So was I bid report here to the state By Signior Angelo.
DUKE  How say you by this change?
SENATOR1  This cannot be, By no assay of reason, tis a pageant To keep us in false gaze. When we consider The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk, And let ourselves again but understand, That as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes, So may he with more facile question bear it, For that it stands not in such war-like brace, But altogether lacks the abilities That Rhodes is dressd in if we make thought of this, We must not think the Turk is so unskilful To leave that latest which concerns him first, Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain, To wake and wage a danger profitless.
DUKE  Nay, in all confidence, hes not for Rhodes.
OFFICER  Here is more news.
MESSENGER  The Ottomites, reverend and gracious, Steering with due course toward the isle of Rhodes, Have there injointed them with an after fleet.
SENATOR1  Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess?
MESSENGER  Of thirty sail, and now they do re-stem Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano, Your trusty and most valiant servitor, With his free duty recommends you thus, And prays you to believe him.
DUKE  Tis certain then, for Cyprus. Marcus Luccicos, is not he in town?
SENATOR1  Hes now in Florence.
DUKE  Write from us to him, post-post-haste dispatch.
SENATOR1  Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor.
BRABANTIO  So did I yours. Good your grace, pardon me, Neither my place nor aught I heard of business Hath raisd me from my bed, nor doth the general care Take hold of me, for my particular grief Is of so flood-gate and oerbearing nature That it engluts and swallows other sorrows And it is still itself.
DUKE  Why, whats the matter?
BRABANTIO  My daughter O my daughter.
DUKE  Dead?
SENATOR  Dead?
BRABANTIO  Ay, to me, She is abusd, stoln from me, and corrupted By spells and medicines bought of mounte-banks, For nature so preposterously to err, Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense, Sans witchcraft could not.
DUKE  Whoeer he be that in this foul proceeding Hath thus beguild your daughter of herself And you of her, the bloody book of law You shall yourself read in the bitter letter After your own sense, yea, though our proper son Stood in your action.
BRABANTIO  Humbly I thank your Grace. Here is the man, this Moor, whom now, it seems, Your special mandate for the state affairs, Hath hither brought.
DUKE  We are very sorry for it.
SENATOR  We are very sorry for it.
BRABANTIO  Nothing, but this is so.
OTHELLO  Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble and approvd good masters, That I have taen away this old mans daughter, It is most true, true, I have married her The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech, And little blessd with the soft phrase of peace, For since these arms of mine had seven years pith, Till now some nine moons wasted, they have usd Their dearest action in the tented field, And little of this great world can I speak, More than pertains to feats of broil and battle, And therefore little shall I grace my cause In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience, I will a round unvarnishd tale deliver Of my whole course of love, what drugs, what charms, What conjuration, and what mighty magic, For such proceeding I am chargd withal, I won his daughter.
BRABANTIO  A maiden never bold, Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion Blushd at herself, and she, in spite of nature, Of years, of country, credit, every thing, To fall in love with what she feard to look on It is a judgment maimd and most imperfect That will confess perfection so could err Against all rules of nature, and must be driven To find out practices of cunning hell, Why this should be. I therefore vouch again That with some mixtures powerful oer the blood, Or with some dram conjurd to this effect, He wrought upon her.
DUKE  To vouch this, is no proof, Without more certain and more overt test Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods Of modern seeming do prefer against him.
SENATOR1  But, Othello, speak Did you by indirect and forced courses Subdue and poison this young maids affections, Or came it by request and such fair question As soul to soul affordeth?
OTHELLO  I do beseech you, Send for the lady to the Sagittary, And let her speak of me before her father If you do find me foul in her report, The trust, the office I do hold of you, Not only take away, but let your sentence Even fall upon my life.
DUKE  Fetch Desdemona hither.
OTHELLO  Ancient, conduct them, you best know the place. And, till she come, as truly as to heaven I do confess the vices of my blood, So justly to your grave ears Ill present How I did thrive in this fair ladys love, And she in mine.
DUKE  Say it, Othello.
OTHELLO  Her father lovd me, oft invited me, Still questiond me the story of my life From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes That I have passd. I ran it through, even from my boyish days To the very moment that he bade me tell it, Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, Of moving accidents by flood and field, Of hair-breadth scapes i the imminent deadly breach, Of being taken by the insolent foe And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence And portance in my travels history, Wherein of antres vast and desarts idle, Rough quarries, rocks and hills whose heads touch heaven, It was my hint to speak, such was the process, And of the Cannibals that each other eat, The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear Would Desdemona seriously incline, But still the house-affairs would draw her thence, Which ever as she could with haste dispatch, Shed come again, and with a greedy ear Devour up my discourse. Which I observing, Took once a pliant hour, and found good means To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, Whereof by parcels she had something heard, But not intentively I did consent, And often did beguile her of her tears, When I did speak of some distressful stroke That my youth sufferd. My story being done, She gave me for my pains a world of sighs She swore, in faith, twas strange, twas passing strange, Twas pitiful, twas wondrous pitiful She wishd she had not heard it, yet she wishd That heaven had made her such a man, she thankd me, And bade me, if I had a friend that lovd her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake She lovd me for the dangers I had passd, And I lovd her that she did pity them. This only is the witchcraft I have usd Here comes the lady, let her witness it.
DUKE  I think this tale would win my daughter too. Good Brabantio, Take up this mangled matter at the best, Men do their broken weapons rather use Than their bare hands.
BRABANTIO  I pray you, hear her speak If she confess that she was half the wooer, Destruction on my head, if my bad blame Light on the man Come hither, gentle mistress Do you perceive in all this noble company Where most you owe obedience?
DESDEMONA  My noble father, I do perceive here a divided duty To you I am bound for life and education, My life and education both do learn me How to respect you, you are the lord of duty, I am hitherto your daughter but heres my husband, And so much duty as my mother showd To you, preferring you before her father, So much I challenge that I may profess Due to the Moor my lord.
BRABANTIO  God be with you I have done. Please it your Grace, on to the state affairs I had rather to adopt a child than get it. Come hither, Moor I here do give thee that with all my heart Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart I would keep from thee. For your sake, jewel, I am glad at soul I have no other child, For thy escape would teach me tyranny, To hang clogs on them. I have done, my lord.
DUKE  Let me speak like yourself and lay a sentence, Which as a grize or step, may help these lovers Into your favour. When remedies are past, the griefs are ended By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended. To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on. What cannot be preservd when Fortune takes, Patience her injury a mockery makes. The robbd that smiles steals something from the thief, He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.
BRABANTIO  So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile, We lose it not so long as we can smile. He bears the sentence well that nothing bears But the free comfort which from thence he hears, But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow. These sentences, to sugar, or to gall, Being strong on both sides, are equivocal But words are words, I never yet did hear That the bruisd heart was pierced through the ear. I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state.
DUKE  The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes for Cyprus. Othello, the fortitude of the place is best known to you, and though we have there a substitute of most allowed sufficiency, yet opinion, a sovereign mistress of effects, throws a more safer voice on you you must therefore be content to slubber the gloss of your new fortunes with this more stubborn and boisterous expedition.
OTHELLO  The tyrant custom, most grave senators, Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war My thrice-driven bed of down I do agnize A natural and prompt alacrity I find in hardness, and do undertake These present wars against the Ottomites. Most humbly therefore bending to your state, I crave fit disposition for my wife, Due reference of place and exhibition, With such accommodation and besort As levels with her breeding.
DUKE  If you please, Be t at her fathers.
BRABANTIO  Ill not have it so.
OTHELLO  Nor I.
DESDEMONA  Nor I, I would not there reside, To put my father in impatient thoughts By being in his eye. Most gracious duke, To my unfolding lend your gracious ear, And let me find a charter in your voice To assist my simpleness.
DUKE  What would you, Desdemona?
DESDEMONA  That I did love the Moor to live with him, My downright violence and storm of fortunes May trumpet to the world, my hearts subdud Even to the very quality of my lord, I saw Othellos visage in his mind, And to his honours and his valiant parts Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate. So that, dear lords, if I be left behind, A moth of peace, and he go to the war, The rites for which I love him are bereft me, And I a heavy interim shall support By his dear absence. Let me go with him.
OTHELLO  Let her have your voices. Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not To please the palate of my appetite, Nor to comply with heat,—the young affects In me defunct,—and proper satisfaction, But to be free and bounteous to her mind, And heaven defend your good souls that you think I will your serious and great business scant For she is with me. No, when light-wingd toys Of featherd Cupid seel with wanton dulness My speculative and officd instruments, That my disports corrupt and taint my business, Let housewives make a skillet of my helm, And all indign and base adversities Make head against my estimation
DUKE  Be it as you shall privately determine, Either for her stay or going. The affair cries haste, And speed must answer it.
SENATOR1  You must away to-night.
OTHELLO  With all my heart.
DUKE  At nine i the morning here well meet again. Othello, leave some officer behind, And he shall our commission bring to you, With such things else of quality and respect As doth import you.
OTHELLO  So please your Grace, my ancient, A man he is of honesty and trust To his conveyance I assign my wife, With what else needful your good grace shall think To be sent after me.
SENATOR1  Adieu, brave Moor use Desdemona well.
BRABANTIO  Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see She has deceivd her father, and may thee.
OTHELLO  My life upon her faith Honest Iago, My Desdemona must I leave to thee I prithee, let thy wife attend on her, And bring them after in the best advantage. Come, Desdemona, I have but an hour Of love, of worldly matters and direction, To spend with thee we must obey the time.
RODERIGO  Iago
IAGO  What sayst thou, noble heart?
RODERIGO  What will I do, thinkst thou?
IAGO  Why, go to bed, and sleep.
RODERIGO  I will incontinently drown myself.
IAGO  Well, if thou dost, I shall never love thee after. Why, thou silly gentleman
RODERIGO  It is silliness to live when to live is torment, and then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.
IAGO  O villanous, I have looked upon the world for four times seven years, and since I could distinguish betwixt a benefit and an injury, I never found man that knew how to love himself. Ere I would say, I would drown myself for the love of a guinea-hen, I would change my humanity with a baboon.
RODERIGO  What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so fond, but it is not in my virtue to amend it.
IAGO  Virtue a fig tis in ourselves that we are thus, or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners, so that if we will plant nettles or sow lettuce, set hyssop and woed up thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs or distract it with many, either to have it sterile with idleness or manured with industry, why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills. If the balance of our lives had not one scale of reason to poise another of sensuality, the blood and baseness of our natures would conduct us to most preposterous conclusions, but we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts, whereof I take this that you call love to be a sect or scion.
RODERIGO  It cannot be.
IAGO  It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the will. Come, be a man. Drown thyself drown cats and blind puppies. I have professed me thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness, I could never better stead thee than now. Put money in thy purse, follow these wars, defeat thy favour with a usurped beard, I say, put money in thy purse. It cannot be that Desdemona should long continue her love to the Moor,—put money in thy purse,—nor he his to her. It was a violent commencement in her, and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration, put but money in thy purse. These Moors are changeable in their wills,—fill thy purse with money—the food that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida. She must change for youth when she is sated with his body, she will find the error of her choice. She must have change, she must therefore put money in thy purse. If thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate way than drowning. Make all the money thou canst. If sanctimony and a frail vow betwixt an erring barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian be not too hard for my wits and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her, therefore make money. A pox of drowning thyself it is clean out of the way seek thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy than to be drowned and go without her.
RODERIGO  Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on the issue?
IAGO  Thou art sure of me go, make money. I have told thee often, and I re-tell thee again and again, I hate the Moor my cause is hearted thine hath no less reason. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge against him, if thou canst cuckold him, thou dost thyself a pleasure, me a sport. There are many events in the womb of time which will be delivered. Traverse, go provide thy money. We will have more of this to-morrow. Adieu.
RODERIGO  Where shall we meet i the morning?
IAGO  At my lodging.
RODERIGO  Ill be with thee betimes.
IAGO  Go to, farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo?
RODERIGO  What say you?
IAGO  No more of drowning, do you hear?
RODERIGO  I am changed. Ill sell all my land.
IAGO  Go to, farewell put money enough in your purse. Thus do I ever make my fool my purse, For I mine own gaind knowledge should profane, If I would time expend with such a snipe But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor, And it is thought abroad that twixt my sheets He has done my office I know not if t be true, But I, for mere suspicion in that kind, Will do as if for surety. He holds me well, The better shall my purpose work on him. Cassios a proper man, let me see now To get his place, and to plume up my will In double knavery, how, how? Lets see After some time to abuse Othellos ear That he is too familiar with his wife He hath a person and a smooth dispose To be suspected, framed to make women false. The Moor is of a free and open nature, That thinks men honest that but seem to be so, And will as tenderly be led by the nose As asses are. I have t, it is engenderd hell and night Must bring this monstrous birth to the worlds light.
MONTANO  What from the cape can you discern at sea?
GENTLEMAN1  Nothing at all it is a high-wrought flood, I cannot twixt the heaven and the main Descry a sail.
MONTANO  Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land, A fuller blast neer shook our battlements, If it hath ruffiand so upon the sea, What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them, Can hold the mortise? what shall we hear of this?
GENTLEMAN2  A segregation of the Turkish fleet, For do but stand upon the foaming shore, The chidden billow seems to pelt the clouds, The wind-shakd surge, with high and monstrous mane, Seems to cast water on the burning bear And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole I never did like molestation view On the enchafed flood.
MONTANO  If that the Turkish fleet Be not enshelterd and embayd, they are drownd, It is impossible they bear it out.
GENTLEMAN3  News, lads our wars are done. The desperate tempest hath so bangd the Turks That their designment halts, a noble ship of Venice Hath seen a grievous wrack and sufferance On most part of their fleet.
MONTANO  How is this true?
GENTLEMAN3  The ship is here put in, A Veronesa, Michael Cassio, Lieutenant to the war-like Moor Othello, Is come on shore the Moor himselfs at sea, And is in full commission here for Cyprus.
MONTANO  I am glad on t, tis a worthy governor.
GENTLEMAN3  But this same Cassio, though he speak of comfort Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly And prays the Moor be safe, for they were parted With foul and violent tempest.
MONTANO  Pray heaven he be, For I have servd him, and the man commands Like a full soldier. Lets to the sea-side, ho As well to see the vessel thats come in As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello, Even till we make the main and the aerial blue An indistinct regard.
GENTLEMAN3  Come, lets do so, For every minute is expectancy Of more arrivance.
CASSIO  Thanks, you the valiant of this war-like isle, That so approve the Moor. O let the heavens Give him defence against the elements, For I have lost him on a dangerous sea.
MONTANO  Is he well shippd?
CASSIO  What noise?
MESSENGER  The town is empty, on the brow o the sea Stand ranks of people, and they cry, A sail
CASSIO  My hopes do shape him for the governor.
GENTLEMAN2  They do discharge their shot of courtesy, Our friends at least.
CASSIO  I pray you, sir, go forth, And give us truth who tis that is arrivd.
GENTLEMAN2  I shall.
MONTANO  But, good lieutenant, is your general wivd?
CASSIO  Most fortunately he hath achievd a maid That paragons description and wild fame, One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens, And in th essential vesture of creation Does tire the ingener.
GENTLEMAN2  Tis one Iago, ancient to the general.
CASSIO  He has had most favourable and happy speed Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds, The gutterd rocks, and congregated sands, Traitors ensteepd to clog the guiltless keel, As having sense of beauty, do omit Their mortal natures, letting go safely by The divine Desdemona.
MONTANO  What is she?
DESDEMONA  I thank you, valiant Cassio. What tidings can you tell me of my lord?
CASSIO  He is not yet arrivd, nor know I aught But that hes well, and will be shortly here.
DESDEMONA  O but I fear—How lost you company?
CASSIO  The great contention of the sea and skies Parted our fellowship. But hark a sail.
GENTLEMAN2  They give their greeting to the citadel This likewise is a friend.
IAGO  Sir, would she give you so much of her lips As of her tongue she oft bestows on me, Youd have enough.
DESDEMONA  Alas she has no speech.
IAGO  In faith, too much, I find it still when I have list to sleep Marry, before your ladyship, I grant, She puts her tongue a little in her heart, And chides with thinking.
EMILIA  You have little cause to say so.
IAGO  Come on, come on, you are pictures out of doors, Bells in your parlours, wild cats in your kitchens, Saints in your injuries, devils being offended, Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your beds.
DESDEMONA  O fie upon thee, slanderer.
IAGO  Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk You rise to play and go to bed to work.
EMILIA  You shall not write my praise.
IAGO  No, let me not.
DESDEMONA  What wouldst thou write of me, if thou shouldst praise me?
IAGO  O gentle lady, do not put me to t, For I am nothing if not critical.
DESDEMONA  Come on, assay. Theres one gone to the harbour?
IAGO  Ay, madam.
DESDEMONA  I am not merry, but I do beguile The thing I am by seeming otherwise. Come, how wouldst thou praise me?
IAGO  I am about it, but indeed my invention Comes from my pate as birdlime does from frize, It plucks out brains and all but my muse labours, And thus she is deliverd. If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit, The ones for use, the other useth it.
DESDEMONA  Well praisd How if she be black and witty?
IAGO  If she be black, and thereto have a wit, Shell find a white that shall her blackness fit.
DESDEMONA  Worse and worse.
EMILIA  How if fair and foolish?
IAGO  She never yet was foolish that was fair, For even her folly helpd her to an heir.
DESDEMONA  These are old fond paradoxes to make fools laugh i the alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for her thats foul and foolish?
IAGO  Theres none so foul and foolish thereunto But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do.
DESDEMONA  O heavy ignorance thou praisest the worst best. But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving woman indeed, one that, in the authority of her merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself?
IAGO  She that was ever fair and never proud, Had tongue at will and yet was never loud, Never lackd gold and yet went never gay, Fled from her wish and yet said Now I may, She that being angerd, her revenge being nigh, Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly, She that in wisdom never was so frail To change the cods head for the salmons tail, She that could think and neer disclose her mind, See suitors following and not look behind, She was a wight, if ever such wight were,—
DESDEMONA  To do what?
IAGO  To suckle fools and chronicle small beer.
DESDEMONA  O most lame and impotent conclusion Do not learn of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband. How say you, Cassio? is he not a most profane and liberal counsellor?
CASSIO  He speaks home, madam, you may relish him more in the soldier than in the scholar.
CASSIO  Tis truly so.
DESDEMONA  Lets meet him and receive him.
CASSIO  Lo where he comes.
OTHELLO  O my fair warrior
DESDEMONA  My dear Othello
OTHELLO  It gives me wonder great as my content To see you here before me. O my souls joy If after every tempest come such calms, May the winds blow till they have wakend death And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas Olympus-high, and duck again as low As hells from heaven If it were now to die, Twere now to be most happy, for I fear My soul hath her content so absolute That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown fate.
DESDEMONA  The heavens forbid But that our loves and comforts should increase Even as our days do grow
Aside.  But Ill set down the pegs that make this music, As honest as I am.
OTHELLO  Come, let us to the castle. News, friends, our wars are done, the Turks are drownd. How does my old acquaintance of this isle? Honey, you shall be well desird in Cyprus, I have found great love amongst them. O my sweet, I prattle out of fashion, and I dote In mine own comforts. I prithee, good Iago, Go to the bay and disembark my coffers. Bring thou the master to the citadel, He is a good one, and his worthiness Does challenge much respect. Come, Desdemona, Once more well met at Cyprus.
IAGO  Do thou meet me presently at the harbour. Come hither. If thou best valiant, as they say base men being in love have then a nobility in their natures more than is native to them, list me. The lieutenant to-night watches on the court of guard first, I must tell thee this, Desdemona is directly in love with him.
RODERIGO  With him why, tis not possible.
IAGO  Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul be instructed. Mark me with what violence she first loved the Moor but for bragging and telling her fantastical lies, and will she love him still for prating? let not thy discreet heart think it. Her eye must be fed, and what delight shall she have to look on the devil? When the blood is made dull with the act of sport, there should be, again to inflame it, and to give satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness in favour, sympathy in years, manners, and beauties, all which the Moor is defective in. Now, for want of these required conveniences, her delicate tenderness will find itself abused, begin to heave the gorge, disrelish and abhor the Moor, very nature will instruct her in it, and compel her to some second choice. Now, sir, this granted, as it is a most pregnant and unforced position, who stands so eminently in the degree of this fortune as Cassio does? a knave very voluble, no further conscionable than in putting on the mere form of civil and humane seeming, for the better compassing of his salt and most hidden loose affection? why, none, why, none a slipper and subtle knave, a finder-out of occasions, that has an eye can stamp and counterfeit advantages, though true advantage never present itself, a devilish knave Besides, the knave is handsome, young, and hath all those requisites in him that folly and green minds look after, a pestilent complete knave and the woman hath found him already.
RODERIGO  I cannot believe that in her, she is full of most blessed condition.
IAGO  Blessed figs end the wine she drinks is made of grapes, if she had been blessed she would never have loved the Moor, blessed pudding Didst thou not see her paddle with the palm of his hand? didst not mark that?
RODERIGO  Yes, that I did, but that was but courtesy.
IAGO  Lechery, by this hand an index and obscure prologue to the history of lust and foul thoughts. They met so near with their lips, that their breaths embraced together. Villanous thoughts, Roderigo when these mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand comes the master and main exercise, the incorporate conclusion. Pish But, sir, be you ruled by me I have brought you from Venice. Watch you to-night, for the command, Ill lay t upon you Cassio knows you not. Ill not be far from you do you find some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking too loud, or tainting his discipline, or from what other course you please, which the time shall more favourably minister.
RODERIGO  Well.
IAGO  Sir, he is rash and very sudden in choler, and haply may strike at you provoke him, that he may, for even out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to mutiny, whose qualification shall come into no true taste again but by the displanting of Cassio. So shall you have a shorter journey to your desires by the means I shall then have to prefer them, and the impediment most profitably removed, without the which there were no expectation of our prosperity.
RODERIGO  I will do this, if I can bring it to any opportunity.
IAGO  I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewell.
RODERIGO  Adieu.
IAGO  That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it, That she loves him, tis apt, and of great credit The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not, Is of a constant, loving, noble nature, And I dare think hell prove to Desdemona A most dear husband. Now, I do love her too, Not out of absolute lust,—though peradventure I stand accountant for as great a sin,— But partly led to diet my revenge, For that I do suspect the lusty Moor Hath leapd into my seat, the thought whereof Doth like a poisonous mineral gnaw my inwards, And nothing can or shall content my soul Till I am evend with him, wife for wife, Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor At least into a jealousy so strong That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do, If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash For his quick hunting, stand the putting on, Ill have our Michael Cassio on the hip, Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb, For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too, Make the Moor thank me, love me, and reward me For making him egregiously an ass And practising upon his peace and quiet Even to madness. Tis here, but yet confusd Knaverys plain face is never seen till usd.
HERALD  It is Othellos pleasure, our noble and valiant general, that, upon certain tidings now arrived, importing the mere perdition of the Turkish fleet, every man put himself into triumph, some to dance, some to make bonfires, each man to what sport and revels his addiction leads him, for, besides these beneficial news, it is the celebration of his nuptial. So much was his pleasure should be proclaimed. All offices are open, and there is full liberty of feasting from this present hour of five till the bell have told eleven. Heaven bless the isle of Cyprus and our noble general Othello
OTHELLO  Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night Lets teach ourselves that honourable stop, Not to outsport discretion.
CASSIO  Iago hath direction what to do, But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye Will I look to t.
CASSIO  Welcome, Iago, we must to the watch.
IAGO  Not this hour, lieutenant, tis not yet ten o the clock. Our general cast us thus early for the love of his Desdemona, who let us not therefore blame, he hath not yet made wanton the night with her, and she is sport for Jove.
CASSIO  Shes a most exquisite lady.
IAGO  And, Ill warrant her, full of game.
CASSIO  Indeed, she is a most fresh and delicate creature.
IAGO  What an eye she has methinks it sounds a parley of provocation.
CASSIO  An inviting eye, and yet methinks right modest.
IAGO  And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love?
CASSIO  She is indeed perfection.
IAGO  Well, happiness to their sheets Come, lieutenant, I have a stoup of wine, and here without are a brace of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure to the health of black Othello.
CASSIO  Not to-night, good Iago I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment.
IAGO  O they are our friends, but one cup Ill drink for you.
CASSIO  I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that was craftily qualified too, and, behold, what innovation it makes here I am unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my weakness with any more.
IAGO  What, man tis a night of revels, the gallants desire it.
CASSIO  Where are they?
IAGO  Here at the door, I pray you, call them in.
CASSIO  Ill do t, but it dislikes me.
IAGO  If I can fasten but one cup upon him, With that which he hath drunk to-night already, Hell be as full of quarrel and offence As my young mistress dog. Now, my sick fool Roderigo, Whom love has turnd almost the wrong side out, To Desdemona hath to-night carousd Potations pottle deep, and hes to watch. Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits, That hold their honours in a wary distance, The very elements of this war-like isle, Have I to-night flusterd with flowing cups, And they watch too. Now, mongst this flock of drunkards, Am I to put our Cassio in some action That may offend the isle. But here they come. If consequence do but approve my dream, My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.
CASSIO  Fore God, they have given me a rouse already.
MONTANO  Good faith, a little one, not past a pint, as I am a soldier.
IAGO  Some wine, ho And let me the canakin clink, clink, And let me the canakin clink A soldiers a man, A lifes but a span, Why then let a soldier drink. Some wine, boys
CASSIO  Fore God, an excellent song.
IAGO  I learned it in England, where indeed they are most potent in potting, your Dane, your German, and your swag-bellied Hollander, —drink, ho—are nothing to your English.
CASSIO  Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking?
IAGO  Why, he drinks you with facility your Dane dead drunk, he sweats not to overthrow your Almain, he gives your Hollander a vomit ere the next pottle can be filled.
CASSIO  To the health of our general
MONTANO  I am for it, lieutenant, and Ill do you justice.
IAGO  O sweet England King Stephen was a worthy peer, His breeches cost him but a crown, He held them sixpence all too dear, With that he calld the tailor lown. He was a wight of high renown, And thou art but of low degree Tis pride that pulls the country down, Then take thine auld cloak about thee. Some wine, ho
CASSIO  Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other.
IAGO  Will you hear t again?
CASSIO  No, for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that does those things. Well, Gods above all, and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.
IAGO  Its true, good lieutenant.
CASSIO  For mine own part,—no offence to the general, nor any man of quality,—I hope to be saved.
IAGO  And so do I too, lieutenant.
CASSIO  Ay, but, by your leave, not before me, the lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. Lets have no more of this, lets to our affairs. God forgive us our sins Gentlemen, lets look to our business. Do not think, gentlemen, I am drunk this is my ancient, this is my right hand, and this is my left hand. I am not drunk now, I can stand well enough, and speak well enough.
ALL  Excellent well.
CASSIO  Why, very well, then, you must not think then that I am drunk.
MONTANO  To the platform, masters, come, lets set the watch.
IAGO  You see this fellow that is gone before, He is a soldier fit to stand by Cæsar And give direction, and do but see his vice, Tis to his virtue a just equinox, The one as long as the other, tis pity of him. I fear the trust Othello puts him in, On some odd time of his infirmity, Will shake this island.
MONTANO  But is he often thus?
IAGO  Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep Hell watch the horologe a double set, If drink rock not his cradle.
MONTANO  It were well The general were put in mind of it. Perhaps he sees it not, or his good nature Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio, And looks not on his evils. Is not this true?
MONTANO  And tis great pity that the noble Moor Should hazard such a place as his own second With one of an ingraft infirmity, It were an honest action to say So to the Moor.
CASSIO  You rogue you rascal
MONTANO  Whats the matter, lieutenant?
CASSIO  A knave teach me my duty Ill beat the knave into a twiggen bottle.
RODERIGO  Beat me
CASSIO  Dost thou prate, rogue?
CASSIO  Let me go, sir, Or Ill knock you oer the mazzard.
MONTANO  Come, come, youre drunk.
CASSIO  Drunk
OTHELLO  What is the matter here?
MONTANO  Zounds I bleed still, I am hurt to the death.
OTHELLO  Hold, for your lives
IAGO  Hold, ho, lieutenant Sir Montano gentlemen Have you forgot all sense of place and duty? Hold the general speaks to you, hold for shame
OTHELLO  Why, how now, ho from whence ariseth this? Are we turnd Turks, and to ourselves do that Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites? For Christian shame put by this barbarous brawl, He that stirs next to carve for his own rage Holds his soul light, he dies upon his motion. Silence that dreadful bell it frights the isle From her propriety. What is the matter, masters? Honest Iago, that lookst dead with grieving, Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee.
IAGO  I do not know, friends all but now, even now, In quarter and in terms like bride and groom Devesting them for bed, and then, but now,— As if some planet had unwitted men,— Swords out, and tilting one at others breast, In opposition bloody. I cannot speak Any beginning to this peevish odds, And would in action glorious I had lost Those legs that brought me to a part of it
OTHELLO  How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot?
CASSIO  I pray you, pardon me, I cannot speak.
OTHELLO  Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil, The gravity and stillness of your youth The world hath noted, and your name is great In mouths of wisest censure whats the matter, That you unlace your reputation thus And spend your rich opinion for the name Of a night-brawler? give me answer to it.
MONTANO  Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger, Your officer, Iago, can inform you, While I spare speech, which something now offends me, Of all that I do know, nor know I aught By me thats said or done amiss this night, Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice, And to defend ourselves it be a sin When violence assails us.
OTHELLO  Now, by heaven, My blood begins my safer guides to rule, And passion, having my best judgment collied, Assays to lead the way. If I once stir, Or do but lift this arm, the best of you Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know How this foul rout began, who set it on, And he that is approvd in this offence, Though he had twinnd with me—both at a birth— Shall lose me. What in a town of war, Yet wild, the peoples hearts brimful of fear, To manage private and domestic quarrel, In night, and on the court and guard of safety Tis monstrous. Iago, who began t?
MONTANO  If partially affind, or leagud in office, Thou dost deliver more or less than truth, Thou art no soldier.
IAGO  Touch me not so near, I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio, Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general. Montano and myself being in speech, There comes a fellow crying out for hep, And Cassio following with determind sword To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause, Myself the crying fellow did pursue, Lest by his clamour, as it so fell out, The town might fall in fright, he, swift of foot, Outran my purpose, and I returnd the rather For that I heard the clink and fall of swords, And Cassio high in oath, which till to-night I neer might say before. When I came back,— For this was brief,—I found them close together, At blow and thrust, even as again they were When you yourself did part them. More of this matter can I not report But men are men, the best sometimes forget Though Cassio did some little wrong to him, As men in rage strike those that wish them best, Yet, surely Cassio, I believe, receivd From him that fled some strange indignity, Which patience could not pass.
DESDEMONA  Whats the matter?
IAGO  What are you hurt, lieutenant?
CASSIO  Ay, past all surgery.
IAGO  Marry, heaven forbid
CASSIO  Reputation, reputation, reputation O I have lost my reputation. I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation
IAGO  As I am an honest man, I thought you had received some bodily wound, there is more offence in that than in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false imposition, oft got without merit, and lost without deserving you have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser. What man, there are ways to recover the general again, you are but now cast in his mood, a punishment more in policy than in malice, even so as one would beat his offenceless dog to affright an imperious lion. Sue to him again, and he is yours.
CASSIO  I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. Drunk and speak parrot and squabble, swagger, swear, and discourse fustian with ones own shadow O thou invisible spirit of wine if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil
IAGO  What was he that you followed with your sword? What had he done to you?
CASSIO  I know not.
IAGO  Is t possible?
CASSIO  I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly, a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O God that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains, that we should, with joy, pleasance, revel, and applause, transform ourselves into beasts.
IAGO  Why, but you are now well enough, how came you thus recovered?
CASSIO  It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place to the devil wrath, one unperfectness shows me another, to make me frankly despise myself.
IAGO  Come, you are too severe a moraler. As the time, the place, and the condition of this country stands, I could heartily wish this had not befallen, but since it is as it is, mend it for your own good.
CASSIO  I will ask him for my place again, he shall tell me I am a drunkard Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all. To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast O strange Every inordinate cup is unblessed and the ingredient is a devil.
IAGO  Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature if it be well used, exclaim no more against it. And, good lieutenant, I think you think I love you.
CASSIO  I have well approved it, sir. I drunk
IAGO  You or any man living may be drunk at some time, man. Ill tell you what you shall do. Our generals wife is now the general I may say so in this respect, for that he hath devoted and given up himself to the contemplation, mark, and denotement of her parts and graces confess yourself freely to her, importune her, shell help to put you in your place again. She is of so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, that she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more than she is requested. This broken joint between you and her husband entreat her to splinter, and my fortunes against any lay worth naming, this crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before.
CASSIO  You advise me well.
IAGO  I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest kindness.
CASSIO  I think it freely, and betimes in the morning I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me. I am desperate of my fortunes if they check me here.
IAGO  You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant, I must to the watch.
CASSIO  Good night, honest Iago
IAGO  And whats he then that says I play the villain? When this advice is free I give and honest, Probal to thinking and indeed the course To win the Moor again? For tis most easy The inclining Desdemona to subdue In any honest suit, shes framd as fruitful As the free elements. And then for her To win the Moor, were t to renounce his baptism, All seals and symbols of redeemed sin, His soul is so enfetterd to her love, That she may make, unmake, do what she list, Even as her appetite shall play the god With his weak function. How am I then a villain To counsel Cassio to this parallel course, Directly to his good? Divinity of hell When devils will the blackest sins put on, They do suggest at first with heavenly shows, As I do now, for while this honest fool Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes, And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor, Ill pour this pestilence into his ear That she repeals him for her bodys lust, And, by how much she strives to do him good, She shall undo her credit with the Moor. So will I turn her virtue into pitch, And out of her own goodness make the net That shall enmesh them all.
RODERIGO  I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound that hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My money is almost spent, I have been to-night exceedingly well cudgelled, and I think the issue will be, I shall have so much experience for my pains, and so, with no money at all and a little more wit, return again to Venice.
IAGO  How poor are they that have not patience What wound did ever heal but by degrees? Thou knowst we work by wit and not by witchcraft, And wit depends on dilatory time. Does t not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee, And thou by that small hurt hast cashiered Cassio. Though other things grow fair against the sun, Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe Content thyself awhile. By the mass, tis morning, Pleasure and action make the hours seem short. Retire thee, go where thou art billeted Away, I say, thou shalt know more hereafter My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress, Ill set her on, Myself the while to draw the Moor apart, And bring him jump when he may Cassio find Soliciting his wife ay, thats the way Dull not device by coldness and delay.
CLOWN  Why, masters, have your instruments been in Naples, that they speak i the nose thus?
MUSICIAN1  How, sir, how?
CLOWN  Are these, I pray you, wind-instruments?
MUSICIAN1  Ay, marry, are they, sir.
CLOWN  O thereby hangs a tail.
MUSICIAN1  Whereby hangs a tale, sir?
CLOWN  Marry, sir, by many a wind-instrument that I know. But, masters, heres money for you, and the general so likes your music, that he desires you, for loves sake, to make no more noise with it.
MUSICIAN1  Well, sir, we will not.
CLOWN  If you have any music that may not be heard, to t again, but, as they say, to hear music the general does not greatly care.
MUSICIAN1  We have none such, sir.
CLOWN  Then put up your pipes in your bag, for Ill away. Go, vanish into air, away
CASSIO  Dost thou hear, mine honest friend?
CLOWN  No, I hear not your honest friend, I hear you.
CASSIO  Prithee, keep up thy quillets. Theres a poor piece of gold for thee. If the gentlewoman that attends the generals wife be stirring, tell her theres one Cassio entreats her a little favour of speech wilt thou do this?
CLOWN  She is stirring, sir if she will stir hither, I shall seem to notify unto her.
CASSIO  Do, good my friend.
IAGO  You have not been a-bed, then?
CASSIO  Why, no, the day had broke Before we parted. I have made bold, Iago, To send in to your wife, my suit to her Is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona Procure me some access.
IAGO  Ill send her to you presently, And Ill devise a mean to draw the Moor Out of the way, that your converse and business May be more free.
CASSIO  I humbly thank you for t. I never knew A Florentine more kind and honest.
EMILIA  Good morrow, good lieutenant I am sorry For your displeasure, but all will soon be well. The general and his wife are talking of it, And she speaks for you stoutly the Moor replies That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus And great affinity, and that in wholesome wisdom He might not but refuse you, but he protests he loves you, And needs no other suitor but his likings To take the safst occasion by the front To bring you in again.
CASSIO  Yet, I beseech you, If you think fit, or that it may be done, Give me advantage of some brief discourse With Desdemona alone.
EMILIA  Pray you, come in I will bestow you where you shall have time To speak your bosom freely.
CASSIO  I am much bound to you.
OTHELLO  These letters give, Iago, to the pilot, And by him do my duties to the senate, That done, I will be walking on the works, Repair there to me.
IAGO  Well, my good lord, Ill do t.
OTHELLO  This fortification, gentlemen, shall we see t?
GENTLEMAN  Well wait upon your lordship.
DESDEMONA  Be thou assurd, good Cassio, I will do All my abilities in thy behalf.
EMILIA  Good madam, do I warrant it grieves my husband, As if the case were his.
DESDEMONA  O thats an honest fellow. Do not doubt, Cassio, But I will have my lord and you again As friendly as you were.
CASSIO  Bounteous madam, Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio, Hes never anything but your true servant.
DESDEMONA  I know t, I thank you. You do love my lord, You have known him long, and be you well assurd He shall in strangeness stand no further off Than in a politic distance.
CASSIO  Ay, but, lady, That policy may either last so long, Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet, Or breed itself so out of circumstance, That, I being absent and my place supplied, My general will forget my love and service.
DESDEMONA  Do not doubt that, before Emilia here I give thee warrant of thy place. Assure thee, If I do vow a friendship, Ill perform it To the last article, my lord shall never rest, Ill watch him tame, and talk him out of patience, His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift, Ill intermingle every thing he does With Cassios suit. Therefore be merry, Cassio, For thy solicitor shall rather die Than give thy cause away.
EMILIA  Madam, here comes my lord.
CASSIO  Madam, Ill take my leave.
DESDEMONA  Why, stay, and hear me speak.
CASSIO  Madam, not now, I am very ill at ease, Unfit for mine own purposes.
DESDEMONA  Well, do your discretion.
IAGO  Ha I like not that.
OTHELLO  What dost thou say?
IAGO  Nothing, my lord or if—I know not what.
OTHELLO  Was not that Cassio parted from my wife?
IAGO  Cassio, my lord? No, sure, I cannot think it That he would steal away so guilty-like, Seeing you coming.
OTHELLO  I do believe twas he.
DESDEMONA  How now, my lord I have been talking with a suitor here, A man that languishes in your displeasure.
OTHELLO  Who is t you mean?
DESDEMONA  Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord, If I have any grace or power to move you, His present reconciliation take, For if he be not one that truly loves you, That errs in ignorance and not in cunning, I have no judgment in an honest face. I prithee call him back.
OTHELLO  Went he hence now?
DESDEMONA  Ay, sooth, so humbled, That he hath left part of his grief with me, To suffer with him. Good love, call him back.
OTHELLO  Not now, sweet Desdemona, some other time.
DESDEMONA  But shall t be shortly?
OTHELLO  The sooner, sweet, for you.
DESDEMONA  Shall t be to-night at supper?
OTHELLO  No, not to-night.
DESDEMONA  To-morrow dinner then?
OTHELLO  I shall not dine at home, I meet the captains at the citadel.
DESDEMONA  Why then, to-morrow night, or Tuesday morn, On Tuesday noon, or night, on Wednesday morn I prithee name the time, but let it not Exceed three days in faith, hes penitent, And yet his trespass, in our common reason,— Save that they say, the wars must make examples Out of their best,—is not almost a fault To incur a private check. When shall he come? Tell me, Othello I wonder in my soul, What you could ask me that I should deny, Or stand so mammering on. What Michael Cassio, That came a wooing with you, and so many a time, When I have spoke of you dispraisingly, Hath taen your part, to have so much to do To bring him in Trust me, I could do much.—
OTHELLO  Prithee, no more, let him come when he will, I will deny thee nothing.
DESDEMONA  Why, this is not a boon, Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves, Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm, Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit To your own person, nay, when I have a suit Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed, It shall be full of poise and difficult weight, And fearful to be granted.
OTHELLO  I will deny thee nothing Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this, To leave me but a little to myself.
DESDEMONA  Shall I deny you? no farewell, my lord.
OTHELLO  Farewell, my Desdemona Ill come to thee straight.
DESDEMONA  Emilia, come. Be as your fancies teach you, Whateer you be, I am obedient.
OTHELLO  Excellent wretch Perdition catch my soul But I do love thee and when I love thee not, Chaos is come again.
IAGO  My noble lord,—
OTHELLO  What dost thou say, Iago?
IAGO  Did Michael Cassio, when you wood my lady, Know of your love?
OTHELLO  He did, from first to last why dost thou ask?
IAGO  But for a satisfaction of my thought, No further harm.
OTHELLO  Why of thy thought, Iago?
IAGO  I did not think he had been acquainted with her.
OTHELLO  O yes, and went between us very oft.
IAGO  Indeed
OTHELLO  Indeed ay, indeed, discernst thou aught in that? Is he not honest?
IAGO  Honest, my lord?
OTHELLO  Honest ay, honest.
IAGO  My lord, for aught I know.
OTHELLO  What dost thou think?
IAGO  Think, my lord
OTHELLO  Think, my lord By heaven, he echoes me, As if there were some monster in his thought Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something I heard thee say but now, thou likdst not that, When Cassio left my wife, what didst not like? And when I told thee he was of my counsel In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst, Indeed And didst contract and purse thy brow together, As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain Some horrible conceit. If thou dost love me, Show me thy thought.
IAGO  My lord, you know I love you.
OTHELLO  I think thou dost, And, for I know thou art full of love and honesty, And weighst thy words before thou givst them breath, Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more, For such things in a false disloyal knave Are tricks of custom, but in a man thats just They are close delations, working from the heart That passion cannot rule.
IAGO  For Michael Cassio, I dare be sworn I think that he is honest.
OTHELLO  I think so too.
IAGO  Men should be what they seem, Or those that be not, would they might seem none
OTHELLO  Certain, men should be what they seem.
IAGO  Why then, I think Cassio s an honest man.
OTHELLO  Nay, yet theres more in this. I pray thee, speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts The worst of words.
IAGO  Good my lord, pardon me, Though I am bound to every act of duty, I am not bound to that all slaves are free to. Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile and false, As wheres that palace whereinto foul things Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pure But some uncleanly apprehensions Keep leets and law days, and in session sit With meditations lawful?
OTHELLO  Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago, If thou but thinkst him wrongd, and makst his ear A stranger to thy thoughts.
IAGO  I do beseech you, Though I perchance am vicious in my guess,— As, I confess, it is my natures plague To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy Shapes faults that are not,—that your wisdom yet, From one that so imperfectly conceits, Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble Out of his scattering and unsure observance. It were not for your quiet nor your good, Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom, To let you know my thoughts.
OTHELLO  What dost thou mean?
IAGO  Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls Who steals my purse steals trash, tis something, nothing, Twas mine, tis his, and has been slave to thousands, But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed.
OTHELLO  By heaven, Ill know thy thoughts.
IAGO  You cannot, if my heart were in your hand, Nor shall not, whilst tis in my custody.
OTHELLO  Ha
IAGO  O beware, my lord, of jealousy, It is the green-eyd monster which doth mock The meat it feeds on, that cuckold lives in bliss Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger, But, O what damned minutes tells he oer Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet soundly loves
OTHELLO  O misery
IAGO  Poor and content is rich, and rich enough, But riches fineless is as poor as winter To him that ever fears he shall be poor. Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend From jealousy
OTHELLO  Why, why is this? Thinkst thou Id make a life of jealousy, To follow still the changes of the moon With fresh suspicions? No, to be once in doubt Is once to be resolved. Exchange me for a goat When I shall turn the business of my soul To such exsufflicate and blown surmises, Matching thy inference. Tis not to make me jealous To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company, Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well, Where virtue is, these are more virtuous Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt, For she had eyes, and chose me. No, Iago, Ill see before I doubt, when I doubt, prove, And, on the proof, there is no more but this, Away at once with love or jealousy
IAGO  I am glad of it, for now I shall have reason To show the love and duty that I bear you With franker spirit, therefore, as I am bound, Receive it from me, I speak not yet of proof. Look to your wife, observe her well with Cassio, Wear your eye thus, not jealous nor secure I would not have your free and noble nature Out of self-bounty be abusd, look to t I know our country disposition well, In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks They dare not show their husbands, their best conscience Is not to leave t undone, but keep t unknown.
OTHELLO  Dost thou say so?
IAGO  She did deceive her father, marrying you And when she seemd to shake and fear your looks, She lovd them most.
OTHELLO  And so she did.
IAGO  Why, go to, then, She that so young could give out such a seeming, To seel her fathers eyes up close as oak, He thought twas witchcraft, but I am much to blame, I humbly do beseech you of your pardon For too much loving you.
OTHELLO  I am bound to thee for ever.
IAGO  I see, this hath a little dashd your spirits.
OTHELLO  Not a jot, not a jot.
IAGO  I faith, I fear it has. I hope you will consider what is spoke Comes from my love. But, I do see youre movd, I am to pray you not to strain my speech To grosser issues nor to larger reach Than to suspicion.
OTHELLO  I will not.
IAGO  Should you do so, my lord, My speech should fall into such vile success As my thoughts aim not at. Cassios my worthy friend— My lord, I see youre movd.
OTHELLO  No, not much movd I do not think but Desdemonas honest.
IAGO  Long live she so and long live you to think so
OTHELLO  And, yet, how nature erring from itself,—
IAGO  Ay, theres the point as, to be bold with you, Not to affect many proposed matches Of her own clime, complexion, and degree, Whereto, we see, in all things nature tends, Foh one may smell in such, a will most rank, Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural. But pardon me, I do not in position Distinctly speak of her, though I may fear Her will, recoiling to her better judgment, May fail to match you with her country forms And happily repent.
OTHELLO  Farewell, farewell If more thou dost perceive, let me know more, Set on thy wife to observe. Leave me, Iago.
IAGO  My lord, I take my leave.
OTHELLO  Why did I marry? This honest creature, doubtless, Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.
Returning.  To scan this thing no further, leave it to time. Although tis fit that Cassio have his place, For, sure he fills it up with great ability, Yet, if you please to hold him off awhile, You shall by that perceive him and his means Note if your lady strain his entertainment With any strong or vehement importunity, Much will be seen in that. In the mean time, Let me be thought too busy in my fears, As worthy cause I have to fear I am, And hold her free, I do beseech your honour.
OTHELLO  Fear not my government.
IAGO  I once more take my leave.
OTHELLO  This fellows of exceeding honesty, And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit, Of human dealings, if I do prove her haggard, Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings, Id whistle her off and let her down the wind, To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black, And have not those soft parts of conversation That chamberers have, or, for I am declind Into the vale of years—yet thats not much— Shes gone, I am abusd, and my relief Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage That we can call these delicate creatures ours, And not their appetites. I had rather be a toad, And live upon the vapour of a dungeon, Than keep a corner in the thing I love For others uses. Yet, tis the plague of great ones, Prerogativd are they less than the base, Tis destiny unshunnable, like death Even then this forked plague is fated to us When we do quicken. Look where she comes. If she be false, O then heaven mocks itself. Ill not believe it.
DESDEMONA  How now, my dear Othello Your dinner and the generous islanders By you invited, do attend your presence.
OTHELLO  I am to blame.
DESDEMONA  Why do you speak so faintly? Are you not well?
OTHELLO  I have a pain upon my forehead here.
DESDEMONA  Faith, thats with watching, twill away again Let me but bind it hard, within this hour It will be well.
DESDEMONA  I am very sorry that you are not well.
EMILIA  I am glad I have found this napkin, This was her first remembrance from the Moor, My wayward husband hath a hundred times Wood me to steal it, but she so loves the token, For he conjurd her she should ever keep it, That she reserves it evermore about her To kiss and talk to. Ill have the work taen out, And give t Iago What he will do with it heaven knows, not I, I nothing but to please his fantasy.
IAGO  How now what do you here alone?
EMILIA  Do not you chide, I have a thing for you.
IAGO  A thing for me? It is a common thing—
EMILIA  Ha
IAGO  To have a foolish wife.
EMILIA  O is that all? What will you give me now For that same handkerchief?
IAGO  What handkerchief?
EMILIA  What handkerchief Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona That which so often you did bid me steal.
IAGO  Hast stoln it from her?
EMILIA  No, faith, she let it drop by negligence, And, to the advantage, I, being there, tookt up. Look, here it is.
IAGO  A good wench, give it me.
EMILIA  What will you do with t, that you have been so earnest To have me filch it?
IAGO  Why, whats that to you?
EMILIA  If it be not for some purpose of import Give t me again, poor lady shell run mad When she shall lack it.
OTHELLO  Ha ha false to me?
IAGO  Why, how now, generall no more of that.
OTHELLO  Avaunt be gone thou hast set me on the rack, I swear tis better to be much abusd Than but to know t a little.
IAGO  How now, my lord
OTHELLO  What sense had I of her stoln hours of lust? I saw t not, thought it not, it harmd not me, I slept the next night well, was free and merry, I found not Cassios kisses on her lips, He that is robbd, not wanting what is stoln, Let him not know t and hes not robbd at all.
IAGO  I am sorry to hear this.
OTHELLO  I had been happy, if the general camp, Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body, So I had nothing known. O now, for ever Farewell the tranquil mind, farewell content Farewell the plumed troop and the big wars That make ambition virtue O, farewell Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner, and all quality, Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Joves dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell Othellos occupations gone
IAGO  Is it possible, my lord?
OTHELLO  Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore, Be sure of it, give me the ocular proof, Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul, Thou hadst been better have been born a dog Than answer my wakd wrath.
IAGO  Is t come to this?
OTHELLO  Make me to see t, or, at the least, so prove it, That the probation bear no hinge nor loop To hang a doubt on, or woe upon thy life
IAGO  My noble lord,—
OTHELLO  If thou dost slander her and torture me, Never pray more, abandon all remorse, On horrors head horrors accumulate, Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazd, For nothing canst thou to damnation add Greater than that.
IAGO  O grace O heaven forgive me Are you a man have you a soul or sense? God be wi you, take mine office. O wretched fool That livst to make thine honesty a vice. O monstrous world Take note, take note, O world To be direct and honest is not safe. I thank you for this profit, and, from hence Ill love no friend, sith love breeds such offence.
OTHELLO  Nay, stay, thou shouldst be honest.
IAGO  I should be wise, for honestys a fool, And loses that it works for.
OTHELLO  By the world, I think my wife be honest and think she is not, I think that thou art just and think thou art not. Ill have some proof. Her name, that was as fresh As Dians visage, is now begrimd and black As mine own face. If there be cords or knives, Poison or fire or suffocating streams, Ill not endure it. Would I were satisfied
IAGO  I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion. I do repent me that I put it to you. You would be satisfied?
OTHELLO  Would nay, I will.
IAGO  And may, but how? how satisfied, my lord? Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on, Behold her tuppd?
OTHELLO  Death and damnation O
IAGO  It were a tedious difficulty, I think, To bring them to that prospect, damn them then, If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster More than their own What then? how then? What shall I say? Wheres satisfaction? It is impossible you should see this, Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys, As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross As ignorance made drunk, but yet, I say, If imputation, and strong circumstances, Which lead directly to the door of truth, Will give you satisfaction, you may have it.
OTHELLO  Give me a living reason shes disloyal.
IAGO  I do not like the office, But, sith I am enterd in this cause so far, Prickd to t by foolish honesty and love, I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately, And, being troubled with a raging tooth, I could not sleep. There are a kind of men so loose of soul That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs, One of this kind is Cassio. In sleep I heard him say, Sweet Desdemona, Let us be wary, let us hide our loves And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand, Cry, O, sweet creature and then kiss me hard, As if he pluckd up kisses by the roots, That grew upon my lips, then laid his leg Over my thigh, and sighd, and kissd, and then Cried, Cursed fate, that gave thee to the Moor
OTHELLO  O monstrous monstrous
IAGO  Nay, this was but his dream.
OTHELLO  But this denoted a foregone conclusion Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream.
IAGO  And this may help to thicken other proofs That do demonstrate thinly.
OTHELLO  Ill tear her all to pieces.
IAGO  Nay, but be wise, yet we see nothing done, She may be honest yet. Tell me but this Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief Spotted with strawberries in your wifes hand?
OTHELLO  I gave her such a one, twas my first gift.
IAGO  I know not that, but such a handkerchief— I am sure it was your wifes—did I to-day See Cassio wipe his beard with.
OTHELLO  If it be that,—
IAGO  If it be that, or any that was hers, It speaks against her with the other proofs.
OTHELLO  O that the slave had forty thousand lives, One is too poor, too weak for my revenge. Now do I see tis true. Look here, Iago, All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven Tis gone. Arise, black vengeance, from the hollow hell Yield up, O love thy crown and hearted throne To tyrannous hate. Swell, bosom, with thy fraught, For tis of aspics tongues
IAGO  Yet be content.
OTHELLO  O blood, blood, blood
IAGO  Patience, I say, your mind, perhaps, may change.
Kneels.  Now, by yond marble heaven, In the due reverence of a sacred vow I here engage my words.
Kneels.  Witness, you ever-burning lights above You elements that clip us round about Witness, that here Iago doth give up The execution of his wit, hands, heart, To wrongd Othellos service Let him command, And to obey shall be in me remorse, What bloody business ever.
OTHELLO  I greet thy love, Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous, And will upon the instant put thee to t Within these three days let me hear thee say That Cassios not alive.
IAGO  My friend is dead, tis done at your request But let her live.
OTHELLO  Damn her, lewd minx O, damn her Come, go with me apart, I will withdraw To furnish me with some swift means of death For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant.
IAGO  I am your own for ever.
DESDEMONA  Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lies?
CLOWN  I dare not say he lies any where.
DESDEMONA  Why, man?
CLOWN  He is a soldier, and for one to say a soldier lies, is stabbing.
DESDEMONA  Go to, where lodges he?
CLOWN  To tell you where he lodges is to tell you where I lie.
DESDEMONA  Can anything be made of this?
CLOWN  I know not where he lodges, and for me to devise a lodging, and say he lies here or he lies there, were to lie in mine own throat.
DESDEMONA  Can you inquire him out, and be edified by report?
CLOWN  I will catechize the world for him, that is, make questions, and by them answer.
DESDEMONA  Seek him, bid him come hither, tell him I have moved my lord in his behalf, and hope all will be well.
CLOWN  To do this is within the compass of mans wit, and therefore I will attempt the doing it.
DESDEMONA  Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia?
EMILIA  I know not, madam.
DESDEMONA  Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse Full of cruzadoes, and, but my noble Moor Is true of mind, and made of no such baseness As jealous creatures are, it were enough To put him to ill thinking.
EMILIA  Is he not jealous?
DESDEMONA  Who he? I think the sun where he was born Drew all such humours from him.
EMILIA  Look where he comes.
DESDEMONA  I will not leave him now till Cassio Be calld to him.
Aside.  How do you, Desdemona?
DESDEMONA  Well, my good lord.
OTHELLO  Give me your hand. This hand is moist, my lady.
DESDEMONA  It yet has felt no age nor known no sorrow.
OTHELLO  This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart, Hot, hot, and moist, this hand of yours requires A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer, Much castigation, exercise devout, For heres a young and sweating devil here, That commonly rebels. Tis a good hand, A frank one.
DESDEMONA  You may, indeed, say so, For twas that hand that gave away my heart.
OTHELLO  A liberal hand, the hearts of old gave hands, But our new heraldry is hands not hearts.
DESDEMONA  I cannot speak of this. Come now, your promise.
OTHELLO  What promise, chuck?
DESDEMONA  I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.
OTHELLO  I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me. Lend me thy handkerchief.
DESDEMONA  Here, my lord.
OTHELLO  That which I gave you.
DESDEMONA  I have it not about me.
OTHELLO  Not?
DESDEMONA  No, indeed, my lord.
OTHELLO  That is a fault. That handkerchief Did an Egyptian to my mother give, She was a charmer, and could almost read The thoughts of people, she told her, while she kept it, Twould make her amiable and subdue my father Entirely to her love, but if she lost it Or made a gift of it, my fathers eye Should hold her loathed, and his spirits should hunt After new fancies. She dying gave it me, And bid me, when my fate would have me wive, To give it her. I did so and take heed on t, Make it a darling like your precious eye, To loset or givet away, were such perdition As nothing else could match.
DESDEMONA  Is t possible?
OTHELLO  Tis true, theres magic in the web of it, A sibyl, that had numberd in the world The sun to course two hundred compasses, In her prophetic fury sewd the work, The worms were hallowd that did breed the silk, And it was dyd in mummy which the skilful Conservd of maidens hearts.
DESDEMONA  Indeed is t true?
OTHELLO  Most veritable, therefore look to t well.
DESDEMONA  Then would to heaven that I had never seen it
OTHELLO  Ha wherefore?
DESDEMONA  Why do you speak so startingly and rash?
OTHELLO  Is t lost? is t gone? speak, is it out o the way?
DESDEMONA  Heaven bless us
OTHELLO  Say you?
DESDEMONA  It is not lost but what an if it were?
OTHELLO  How
DESDEMONA  I say, it is not lost.
OTHELLO  Fetch t, let me see t.
DESDEMONA  Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now. This is a trick to put me from my suit Pray you let Cassio be receivd again.
OTHELLO  Fetch me the handkerchief, my mind misgives.
DESDEMONA  Come, come, Youll never meet a more sufficient man.
OTHELLO  The handkerchief
DESDEMONA  I pray, talk me of Cassio.
OTHELLO  The handkerchief
DESDEMONA  A man that all his time Hath founded his good fortunes on your love, Shard dangers with you,—
OTHELLO  The handkerchief
DESDEMONA  In sooth you are to blame.
OTHELLO  Away
EMILIA  Is not this man jealous?
DESDEMONA  I neer saw this before. Sure, theres some wonder in this handkerchief, I am most unhappy in the loss of it.
EMILIA  Tis not a year or two shows us a man, They are all but stomachs, and we all but food, They eat us hungerly, and when they are full They belch us. Look you Cassio and my husband.
IAGO  There is no other way, tis she must do t And, lo the happiness go and importune her.
DESDEMONA  How now, good Cassio whats the news with you?
CASSIO  Madam, my former suit I do beseech you That by your virtuous means I may again Exist, and be a member of his love Whom I with all the office of my heart Entirely honour, I would not be delayd. If my offence be of such mortal kind That nor my service past, nor present sorrows, Nor purposd merit in futurity, Can ransom me into his love again, But to know so must be my benefit, So shall I clothe me in a forcd content, And shut myself up in some other course To fortunes alms.
DESDEMONA  Alas thrice-gentle Cassio My advocation is not now in tune, My lord is not my lord, nor should I know him, Were he in favour as in humour alterd. So help me every spirit sanctified, As I have spoken for you all my best And stood within the blank of his displeasure For my free speech. You must awhile be patient, What I can do I will, and more I will Than for myself I dare let that suffice you.
IAGO  Is my lord angry?
EMILIA  He went hence but now, And, certainly in strange unquietness.
IAGO  Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon, When it hath blown his ranks into the air, And, like the devil, from his very arm Puffd his own brother, and can he be angry? Something of moment then, I will go meet him, Theres matter in t indeed, if he be angry.
DESDEMONA  Either from Venice, or some unhatchd practice Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him, Hath puddled his clear spirit, and, in such cases Mens natures wrangle with inferior things, Though great ones are their object. Tis even so, For let our finger ache, and it indues Our other healthful members evn to that sense Of pain. Nay, we must think men are not gods, Nor of them look for such observancy As fits the bridal. Beshrew me much, Emilia, I was—unhandsome warrior as I am— Arraigning his unkindness with my soul, But now I find I had subornd the witness, And hes indicted falsely.
EMILIA  Pray heaven it be state-matters, as you think, And no conception, nor no jealous toy Concerning you.
DESDEMONA  Alas the day I never gave him cause.
EMILIA  But jealous souls will not be answerd so, They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they are jealous, tis a monster Begot upon itself, born on itself.
DESDEMONA  Heaven keep that monster from Othellos mind
EMILIA  Lady, amen.
DESDEMONA  I will go seek him. Cassio, walk hereabout, If I do find him fit, Ill move your suit And seek to effect it to my uttermost.
CASSIO  I humbly thank your ladyship.
BIANCA  Save you, friend Cassio
CASSIO  What make you from home? How is it with you, my most fair Bianca? I faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house.
BIANCA  And I was going to your lodging, Cassio. What keep a week away? seven days and nights? Eight score eight hours? and lovers absent hours, More tedious than the dial eight score times? O weary reckoning
BIANCA  O Cassio whence came this? This is some token from a newer friend, To the felt absence now I feel a cause, Is t come to this? Well, well.
CASSIO  Go to, woman Throw your vile guesses in the devils teeth, From whence you have them. You are jealous now That this is from some mistress, some remembrance No, in good troth, Bianca.
BIANCA  Why, whose is it?
CASSIO  I know not, sweet, I found it in my chamber. I like the work well, ere it be demanded,— As like enough it will,—Id have it copied, Take it and do t, and leave me for this time.
BIANCA  Leave you wherefore?
CASSIO  I do attend here on the general, And think it no addition nor my wish To have him see me womand.
BIANCA  Why, I pray you?
CASSIO  Not that I love you not.
BIANCA  But that you do not love me. I pray you, bring me on the way a little And say if I shall see you soon at night.
CASSIO  Tis but a little way that I can bring you, For I attend here, but Ill see you soon.
BIANCA  Tis very good, I must be circumstancd.
IAGO  Will you think so?
OTHELLO  Think so, Iago
IAGO  What To kiss in private?
OTHELLO  An unauthorizd kiss.
IAGO  Or to be naked with her friend a-bed An hour or more, not meaning any harm?
OTHELLO  Naked a-bed, Iago, and not mean harm? It is hypocrisy against the devil They that mean virtuously, and yet do so, The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heaven.
IAGO  If they do nothing, tis a venial slip, But if I give my wife a handkerchief,—
OTHELLO  What then?
IAGO  Why, then, tis hers, my lord, and, being hers, She may, I think, bestow t on any man.
OTHELLO  She is protectress of her honour too, May she give that?
IAGO  Her honour is an essence thats not seen, They have it very oft that have it not But for the handkerchief,—
OTHELLO  By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it— Thou saidst,—O it comes oer my memory, As doth the raven oer the infected house, Boding to all,—he had my handkerchief.
IAGO  Ay, what of that?
OTHELLO  Thats not so good now.
IAGO  What, If I had said I had seen him do you wrong? Or heard him say, as knaves be such abroad, Who having, by their own importunate suit, Or voluntary dotage of some mistress, Convinced or supplied them, cannot choose But they must blab.
OTHELLO  Hath he said any thing?
IAGO  He hath, my lord, but be you well assurd, No more than hell unswear.
OTHELLO  What hath he said?
IAGO  Faith, that he did—I know not what he did.
OTHELLO  What? what?
IAGO  Lie—
OTHELLO  With her?
IAGO  With her, on her, what you will.
OTHELLO  Lie with her lie on her We say, lie on her, when they belie her. Lie with her thats fulsome. Handkerchief,—confessions,—handkerchief To confess, and be hanged for his labour. First, to be hanged, and then to confess I tremble at it. Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing passion without some instruction. It is not words that shake me thus. Pish Noses, ears, and lips. Is it possible?—Confess—Handkerchief—O devil
IAGO  Work on, My medicine, work Thus credulous fools are caught, And many worthy and chaste dames even thus, All guitless, meet reproach. What, ho my lord My lord, I say Othello
CASSIO  Whats the matter?
IAGO  My lord is fallen into an epilepsy, This is his second fit, he had one yesterday.
CASSIO  Rub him about the temples.
IAGO  No, forbear, The lethargy must have his quiet course, If not he foams at mouth, and by and by Breaks out to savage madness. Look he stirs, Do you withdraw yourself a little while, He will recover straight, when he is gone, I would on great occasion speak with you. How is it, general? have you not hurt your head?
OTHELLO  Dost thou mock me?
IAGO  I mock you no, by heaven. Would you would bear your fortune like a man
OTHELLO  A horned mans a monster and a beast.
IAGO  Theres many a beast then, in a populous city, And many a civil monster.
OTHELLO  Did he confess it?
IAGO  Good sir, be a man, Think every bearded fellow thats but yokd May draw with you, theres millions now alive That nightly lie in those unproper beds Which they dare swear peculiar, your case is better. O tis the spite of hell, the fiends arch-mock, To lip a wanton in a secure couch, And to suppose her chaste. No, let me know, And knowing what I am I know what she shall be.
OTHELLO  O thou art wise, tis certain.
IAGO  Stand you awhile apart, Confine yourself but in a patient list. Whilst you were here oerwhelmed with your grief,— A passion most unsuiting such a man,— Cassio came hither, I shifted him away, And laid good scuse upon your ecstasy, Bade him anon return and here speak with me, The which he promisd. Do but encave yourself, And mark the fleers, the gibes, and notable scorns, That dwell in every region of his face, For I will make him tell the tale anew, Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when He hath, and is again to cope your wife I say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience, Or I shall say you are all in all in spleen, And nothing of a man.
OTHELLO  Dost thou hear, Iago? I will be found most cunning in my patience, But—dost thou hear?—most bloody.
CASSIO  The worser that you give me the addition Whose want even kills me.
CASSIO  Alas poor caitiff
OTHELLO  Look how he laughs already
IAGO  I never knew woman love man so.
CASSIO  Alas poor rogue, I think, i faith, she loves me.
OTHELLO  Now he denies it faintly, and laughs it out.
IAGO  Do you hear, Cassio?
OTHELLO  Now he importunes him To tell it oer go to, well said, well said.
IAGO  She gives it out that you shall marry her, Do you intend it?
CASSIO  Ha, ha, ha
OTHELLO  Do you triumph, Roman? do you triumph?
CASSIO  I marry her what? a customer? I prithee, bear some charity to my wit, do not think it so unwholesome. Ha, ha, ha
OTHELLO  So, so, so, so. They laugh that win.
IAGO  Faith, the cry goes that you shall marry her.
CASSIO  Prithee, say true.
IAGO  I am a very villain else.
OTHELLO  Have you scored me? Well.
CASSIO  This is the monkeys own giving out she is persuaded I will marry her, out of her own love and flattery, not out of my promise.
OTHELLO  Iago beckons me, now he begins the story.
CASSIO  She was here even now, she haunts me in every place. I was the other day talking on the sea bank with certain Venetians, and thither come this bauble, and, by this hand, she falls me thus about my neck,—
OTHELLO  Crying, O dear Cassio as it were, his gesture imports it.
CASSIO  So hangs and lolls and weeps upon me, so hales and pulls me, ha, ha, ha
OTHELLO  Now he tells how she plucked him to my chamber. O I see that nose of yours, but not the dog I shall throw it to.
CASSIO  Well, I must leave her company.
IAGO  Before me look, where she comes.
CASSIO  Tis such another fitchew marry, a perfumed one.
BIANCA  Let the devil and his dam haunt you What did you mean by that same handkerchief you gave me even now? I was a fine fool to take it. I must take out the work A likely piece of work, that you should find it in your chamber, and not know who left it there This is some minxs token, and I must take out the work There, give it your hobby-horse, wheresoever you had it Ill take out no work on t.
CASSIO  How now, my sweet Bianca how now, how now
OTHELLO  By heaven, that should be my handkerchief
BIANCA  An youll come to supper to-night, you may, an you will not, come when you are next prepared for.
IAGO  After her, after her.
CASSIO  Faith, I must, shell rail in the street else.
IAGO  Will you sup there?
CASSIO  Faith, I intend so.
IAGO  Well, I may chance to see you, for I would very fain speak with you.
CASSIO  Prithee, come, will you?
IAGO  Go to, say no more.
IAGO  Did you perceive how he laughed at his vice?
OTHELLO  O Iago
IAGO  And did you see the handkerchief?
OTHELLO  Was that mine?
IAGO  Yours, by this hand, and to see how he prizes the foolish woman your wife she gave it him, and he hath given it his whore.
OTHELLO  I would have him nine years a-killing. A fine woman a fair woman a sweet woman
IAGO  Nay, you must forget that.
OTHELLO  Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned to-night, for she shall not live. No, my heart is turned to stone, I strike it, and it hurts my hand. O the world hath not a sweeter creature, she might lie by an emperors side and command him tasks.
IAGO  Nay, thats not your way.
OTHELLO  Hang her I do but say what she is. So delicate with her needle An admirable musician O, she will sing the savageness out of a bear. Of so high and plenteous wit and invention
IAGO  Shes the worse for all this.
OTHELLO  O a thousand, a thousand times. And then, of so gentle a condition
IAGO  Ay, too gentle.
OTHELLO  Nay, thats certain,—but yet the pity of it, Iago O Iago, the pity of it, Iago
IAGO  If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her patent to offend, for, if it touch not you, it comes near nobody.
OTHELLO  I will chop her into messes. Cuckold me
IAGO  O tis foul in her.
OTHELLO  With mine officer
IAGO  Thats fouler.
OTHELLO  Get me some poison, Iago, this night Ill not expostulate with her, lest her body and beauty unprovide my mind again. This night, Iago.
IAGO  Do it not with poison, strangle her in her bed, even the bed she hath contaminated.
OTHELLO  Good, good, the justice of it pleases, very good.
IAGO  And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker, you shall hear more by midnight.
IAGO  Something from Venice, sure. Tis Lodovico, Come from the duke, and see, your wife is with him.
LODOVICO  God save you, worthy general
OTHELLO  With all my heart, sir.
LODOVICO  The duke and senators of Venice greet you.
OTHELLO  I kiss the instrument of their pleasures.
DESDEMONA  And whats the news, good cousin Lodovico?
IAGO  I am very glad to see you, signior, Welcome to Cyprus.
LODOVICO  I thank you. How does Lieutenant Cassio?
IAGO  Lives, sir.
DESDEMONA  Cousin, theres falln between him and my lord An unkind breach, but you shall make all well.
OTHELLO  Are you sure of that?
DESDEMONA  My lord?
OTHELLO  This fail you not to do, as you will—
LODOVICO  He did not call, hes busy in the paper. Is there division twixt my lord and Cassio?
DESDEMONA  A most unhappy one, I would do much To atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio.
OTHELLO  Fire and brimstone
DESDEMONA  My lord?
OTHELLO  Are you wise?
DESDEMONA  What is he angry?
LODOVICO  May be the letter movd him, For, as I think, they do command him home, Deputing Cassio in his government.
DESDEMONA  Trust me, I am glad on t.
OTHELLO  Indeed
DESDEMONA  My lord?
OTHELLO  I am glad to see you mad.
DESDEMONA  Why, sweet Othello?
OTHELLO  Devil
DESDEMONA  I have not deserved this.
LODOVICO  My lord, this would not be believd in Venice, Though I should swear I saw t tis very much, Make her amends, she weeps.
OTHELLO  O devil, devil If that the earth could teem with womans tears, Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile. Out of my sight
DESDEMONA  I will not stay to offend you.
LODOVICO  Truly, an obedient lady, I do beseech your lordship, call her back.
OTHELLO  Mistress
DESDEMONA  My lord?
OTHELLO  What would you with her, sir?
LODOVICO  Who, I, my lord?
OTHELLO  Ay, you did wish that I would make her turn Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on, And turn again, and she can weep, sir, weep, And shes obedient, as you say, obedient, Very obedient. Proceed you in your tears. Concerning this, sir,—O well-painted passion— I am commanded home. Get you away, Ill send for you anon. Sir, I obey the mandate, And will return to Venice. Hence avaunt Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, to-night, I do entreat that we may sup together, You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus. Goats and monkeys
LODOVICO  Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate Call all-in-all sufficient? is this the noble nature Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue The shot of accident nor dart of chance Could neither graze nor pierce?
IAGO  He is much changd.
LODOVICO  Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain?
IAGO  Hes that he is, I may not breathe my censure. What he might be, if, what he might, he is not, I would to heaven he were
LODOVICO  What strike his wife
IAGO  Faith, that was not so well, yet would I knew That stroke would prove the worst
LODOVICO  Is it his use? Or did the letters work upon his blood, And new-create this fault?
IAGO  Alas, alas It is not honesty in me to speak What I have seen and known. You shall observe him, And his own courses will denote him so That I may save my speech. Do but go after And mark how he continues.
LODOVICO  I am sorry that I am deceivd in him.
OTHELLO  You have seen nothing, then?
EMILIA  Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect.
OTHELLO  Yes, you have seen Cassio and her together.
EMILIA  But then I saw no harm, and then I heard Each syllable that breath made up between them.
OTHELLO  What did they never whisper?
EMILIA  Never, my lord.
OTHELLO  Nor send you out o the way?
EMILIA  Never.
OTHELLO  To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing?
EMILIA  Never, my lord.
OTHELLO  Thats strange.
EMILIA  I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest, Lay down my soul at stake if you think other, Remove your thought, it doth abuse your bosom. If any wretch have put this in your head, Let heaven requite it with the serpents curse For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true, Theres no man happy, the purest of their wives Is foul as slander.
OTHELLO  Bid her come hither, go. She says enough, yet shes a simple bawd That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore, A closet lock and key of villanous secrets, And yet shell kneel and pray, I have seen her do t.
DESDEMONA  My lord, what is your will?
OTHELLO  Pray, chuck, come hither.
DESDEMONA  What is your pleasure?
OTHELLO  Let me see your eyes, Look in my face.
DESDEMONA  What horrible fancys this?
DESDEMONA  Upon my knees, what doth your speech import? I understand a fury in your words, But not the words.
OTHELLO  Why, what art thou?
DESDEMONA  Your wife, my lord, your true And loyal wife.
OTHELLO  Come, swear it, damn thyself, Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves Should fear to seize thee, therefore be double-damnd, Swear thou art honest.
DESDEMONA  Heaven doth truly know it.
OTHELLO  Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell.
DESDEMONA  To whom, my lord? with whom? how am I false?
OTHELLO  Ah Desdemona, away, away, away
DESDEMONA  Alas, the heavy day—Why do you weep? Am I the motive of these tears, my lord? If haply you my father do suspect An instrument of this your calling back, Lay not your blame on me, if you have lost him, Why, I have lost him too.
OTHELLO  Had it pleasd heaven To try me with affliction, had he raind All kinds of sores, and shames, on my bare head, Steepd me in poverty to the very lips, Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes, I should have found in some part of my soul A drop of patience, but, alas to make me The fixed figure for the time of scorn To point his slow and moving finger at, Yet could I bear that too, well, very well But there, where I have garnerd up my heart, Where either I must live or bear no life, The fountain from the which my current runs Or else dries up, to be discarded thence Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads To knot and gender in Turn thy complexion there, Patience, thou young and rose-lippd cherubin, Ay, there, look grim as hell
DESDEMONA  I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.
OTHELLO  O ay, as summer flies are in the shambles, That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed Who art so lovely fair and smellst so sweet That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst neer been born.
DESDEMONA  Alas what ignorant sin have I committed?
OTHELLO  Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, Made to write whore upon? What committed Committed O thou public commoner I should make very forges of my cheeks, That would to cinders burn up modesty, Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed Heaven stops the nose at it and the moon winks, The bawdy wind that kisses all it meets Is hushd within the hollow mine of earth, And will not hear it. What committed Impudent strumpet
DESDEMONA  By heaven, you do me wrong.
OTHELLO  Are not you a strumpet?
DESDEMONA  No, as I am a Christian. If to preserve this vessel for my lord From any other foul unlawful touch Be not to be a strumpet, I am none.
OTHELLO  What not a whore?
DESDEMONA  No, as I shall be savd.
OTHELLO  Is it possible?
DESDEMONA  O heaven forgive us.
EMILIA  Alas what does this gentleman conceive? How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady?
DESDEMONA  Faith, half asleep.
EMILIA  Good madam, whats the matter with my lord?
DESDEMONA  With who?
EMILIA  Why, with my lord, madam.
DESDEMONA  Who is thy lord?
EMILIA  He that is yours, sweet lady.
DESDEMONA  I have none, do not talk to me, Emilia, I cannot weep, nor answer have I none, But what should go by water. Prithee, to-night Lay on my bed my wedding sheets remember And call thy husband hither.
EMILIA  Here is a change indeed
DESDEMONA  Tis meet I should be usd so, very meet. How have I been behavd, that he might stick The smallst opinion on my least misuse?
IAGO  What is your pleasure, madam? How is it with you?
DESDEMONA  I cannot tell. Those that do teach young babes Do it with gentle means and easy tasks, He might have chid me so, for, in good faith, I am a child to chiding.
IAGO  Whats the matter, lady?
EMILIA  Alas Iago, my lord hath so bewhord her, Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her, As true hearts cannot bear.
DESDEMONA  Am I that name, Iago?
IAGO  What name, fair lady?
DESDEMONA  Such as she says my lord did say I was.
EMILIA  He calld her whore, a beggar in his drink Could not have laid such terms upon his callat.
IAGO  Why did he so?
DESDEMONA  I do not know, I am sure I am none such.
IAGO  Do not weep, do not weep. Alas the day
EMILIA  Has she forsook so many noble matches, Her father and her country and her friends, To be calld whore? would it not make one weep?
DESDEMONA  It is my wretched fortune.
IAGO  Beshrew him for it How comes this trick upon him?
DESDEMONA  Nay, heaven doth know.
EMILIA  I will be hangd, if some eternal villain, Some busy and insinuating rogue, Some cogging cozening slave, to get some office, Have not devisd this slander, Ill be hangd else.
IAGO  Fie there is no such man, it is impossible.
DESDEMONA  If any such there be, heaven pardon him
EMILIA  A halter pardon him, and hell gnaw his bones Why should he call her whore? who keeps her company? What place? what time? what form? what likelihood? The Moors abusd by some most villanous knave, Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow. O heaven that such companions thoudst unfold, And put in every honest hand a whip To lash the rascals naked through the world, Even from the east to the west
IAGO  Speak within door.
EMILIA  O fie upon them. Some such squire he was That turnd your wit the seamy side without, And made you to suspect me with the Moor.
IAGO  You are a fool, go to.
DESDEMONA  O good Iago, What shall I do to win my lord again? Good friend, go to him, for, by this light of heaven, I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel If eer my will did trespass gainst his love, Either in discourse of thought or actual deed, Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense, Delighted them in any other form, Or that I do not yet, and ever did, And ever will, though he do shake me off To beggarly divorcement, love him dearly, Comfort forswear me Unkindness may do much, And his unkindness may defeat my life, But never taint my love. I cannot say whore It does abhor me now I speak the word, To do the act that might the addition earn Not the worlds mass of vanity could make me.
IAGO  I pray you be content, tis but his humour, The business of the state does him offence, And he does chide with you.
DESDEMONA  If twere no other,—
Trumpets.  Hark how these instruments summon to supper, The messengers of Venice stay the meat Go in, and weep not, all things shall be well.
RODERIGO  I do not find that thou dealest justly with me.
IAGO  What in the contrary?
RODERIGO  Every day thou daffest me with some device, Iago, and rather, as it seems to me now, keepest from me all conveniency, than suppliest me with the least advantage of hope. I will indeed no longer endure it, nor am I yet persuaded to put up in peace what already I have foolishly suffered.
IAGO  Will you hear me, Roderigo?
RODERIGO  Faith, I have heard too much, for your words and performances are no kin together.
IAGO  You charge me most unjustly.
RODERIGO  With nought but truth. I have wasted myself out of my means. The jewels you have had from me to deliver to Desdemona would half have corrupted a votarist, you have told me she has received them, and returned me expectations and comforts of sudden respect and acquaintance, but I find none.
IAGO  Well, go to, very well.
RODERIGO  Very well go to I cannot go to, man, nor tis not very well by this hand, I say, it is very scurvy, and begin to find myself fobbed in it.
IAGO  Very well.
RODERIGO  I tell you tis not very well. I will make myself known to Desdemona, if she will return me my jewels, I will give over my suit and repent my unlawful solicitation, if not, assure yourself I will seek satisfaction of you.
IAGO  You have said now.
RODERIGO  Ay, and said nothing, but what I protest intendment of doing.
IAGO  Why, now I see theres mettle in thee, and even from this instant do build on thee a better opinion than ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo, thou hast taken against me a most just exception, but yet, I protest, I have dealt most directly in thy affair.
RODERIGO  It hath not appeared.
IAGO  I grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your suspicion is not without wit and judgment. But, Roderigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed, which I have greater reason to believe now than ever, I mean purpose, courage, and valour, this night show it if thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona, take me from this world with treachery and devise engines for my life.
RODERIGO  Well, what is it? is it within reason and compass?
IAGO  Sir, there is especial commission come from Venice to depute Cassio in Othellos place.
RODERIGO  Is that true? why, then Othello and Desdemona return again to Venice.
IAGO  O, no he goes into Mauritania, and takes away with him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode be lingered here by some accident, wherein none can be so determinate as the removing of Cassio.
RODERIGO  How do you mean, removing of him?
IAGO  Why, by making him uncapable of Othellos place, knocking out his brains.
RODERIGO  And that you would have me do?
IAGO  Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and a right. He sups to-night with a harlotry, and thither will I go to him, he knows not yet of his honourable fortune. If you will watch his going thence,—which I will fashion to fall out between twelve and one,—you may take him at your pleasure, I will be near to second your attempt, and he shall fall between us. Come, stand not amazed at it, but go along with me, I will show you such a necessity in his death that you shall think yourself bound to put it on him. It is now high supper-time, and the night grows to waste, about it.
RODERIGO  I will hear further reason for this.
IAGO  And you shall be satisfied.
LODOVICO  I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further.
OTHELLO  O pardon me, twill do me good to walk.
LODOVICO  Madam, good night, I humbly thank your ladyship.
DESDEMONA  Your honour is most welcome.
OTHELLO  Will you walk, sir? O Desdemona,—
DESDEMONA  My lord?
OTHELLO  Get you to bed on the instant, I will be returned forthwith, dismiss your attendant there, look it be done.
DESDEMONA  I will, my lord.
EMILIA  How goes it now? he looks gentler than he did.
DESDEMONA  He says he will return incontinent, He hath commanded me to go to bed, And bade me to dismiss you.
EMILIA  Dismiss me
DESDEMONA  It was his bidding, therefore, good Emilia, Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu We must not now displease him.
EMILIA  I would you had never seen him.
DESDEMONA  So would not I, my love doth so approve him, That even his stubbornness, his checks and frowns,— Prithee, unpin me,—have grace and favour in them.
EMILIA  I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed.
DESDEMONA  Alls one. Good faith how foolish are our minds If I do die before thee, prithee, shroud me In one of those same sheets.
EMILIA  Come, come, you talk.
DESDEMONA  My mother had a maid calld Barbara, She was in love, and he she lovd provd mad And did forsake her, she had a song of willow, An old thing twas, but it expressd her fortune, And she died singing it, that song to-night Will not go from my mind, I have much to do But to go hang my head all at one side, And sing it like poor Barbara. Prithee, dispatch.
EMILIA  Shall I go fetch your night-gown?
DESDEMONA  No, unpin me here. This Lodovico is a proper man.
EMILIA  A very handsome man.
DESDEMONA  He speaks well.
EMILIA  I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip.
DESDEMONA  The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree, Sing all a green willow, Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee, Sing willow, willow, willow The fresh streams ran by her, and murmurd her moans, Sing willow, willow, willow Her salt tears fell from her, and softend the stones,— Lay by these— Sing willow, willow, willow Prithee, hie thee, hell come anon.— Sing all a green willow must be my garland. Let nobody blame him, his scorn I approve,— Nay, thats not next. Hark who is it that knocks?
EMILIA  It is the wind.
DESDEMONA  I calld my love false love, but what said he then? Sing willow, willow, willow If I court moe women, youll couch with moe men. So, get thee gone, good night. Mine eyes do itch, Doth that bode weeping?
EMILIA  Tis neither here nor there.
DESDEMONA  I have heard it said so. O these men, these men Dost thou in conscience think, tell me, Emilia, That there be women do abuse their husbands In such gross kind?
EMILIA  There be some such, no question.
DESDEMONA  Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?
EMILIA  Why, would not you?
DESDEMONA  No, by this heavenly light
EMILIA  Nor I neither by this heavenly light, might do t as well i the dark.
DESDEMONA  Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?
EMILIA  The world is a huge thing, tis a great price For a small vice.
DESDEMONA  In troth, I think thou wouldst not.
EMILIA  In troth, I think I should, and undo t when I had done. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a joint-ring, nor measures of lawn, nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty exhibition, but for the whole world, who would not make her husband a cuckold to make him a monarch? I should venture purgatory for t.
DESDEMONA  Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong For the whole world.
EMILIA  Why, the wrong is but a wrong i the world, and having the world for your labour, tis a wrong in your own world, and you might quickly make it right.
DESDEMONA  I do not think there is any such woman.
EMILIA  Yes, a dozen, and as many to the vantage, as would store the world they played for. But I do think it is their husbands faults If wives do fall. Say that they slack their duties, And pour our treasures into foreign laps, Or else break out in peevish jealousies, Throwing restraint upon us, or, say they strike us, Or scant our former having in despite, Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace, Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know Their wives have sense like them, they see and smell, And have their palates both for sweet and sour, As husbands have. What is it that they do When they change us for others? Is it sport? I think it is, and doth affection breed it? I think it doth is t frailty that thus errs? It is so too, and have not we affections, Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have? Then, let them use us well, else let them know, The ills we do, their ills instruct us so.
DESDEMONA  Good night, good night, heaven me such usage send, Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend
IAGO  Here, stand behind this bulk, straight will he come Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home. Quick, quick, fear nothing, Ill be at thy elbow. It makes us, or it mars us, think on that, And fix most firm thy resolution.
RODERIGO  Be near at hand, I may miscarry in t.
IAGO  Here, at thy hand be bold, and take thy stand.
RODERIGO  I have no great devotion to the deed, And yet he has given me satisfying reasons Tis but a man gone forth, my sword, he dies.
IAGO  I have rubbd this young quat almost to the sense, And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio, Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other, Every way makes my gain live Roderigo, He calls me to a restitution large Of gold and jewels that I bobbd from him, As gifts to Desdemona, It must not be if Cassio do remain, He hath a daily beauty in his life That makes me ugly, and, besides, the Moor May unfold me to him, there stand I in much peril. No, he must die. But so, I hear him coming.
RODERIGO  I know his gait, tis he. Villain, thou diest
CASSIO  That thrust had been mine enemy indeed But that my coat is better than thou knowst, I will make proof of thine.
RODERIGO  O I am slain.
OTHELLO  The voice of Cassio Iago keeps his word.
RODERIGO  O villain that I am
OTHELLO  It is een so.
CASSIO  O, help, ho light a surgeon
OTHELLO  Tis he O brave Iago, honest and just That hast such noble sense of thy friends wrong, Thou teachest me. Minion, your dear lies dead, And your unblest fate hies, strumpet, I come Forth of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are blotted, Thy bed lust-staind shall with lusts blood be spotted.
CASSIO  What ho no watch? no passage? murder murder
GRATIANO  Tis some mischance, the cry is very direful.
CASSIO  O, help
LODOVICO  Hark
RODERIGO  O wretched villain
LODOVICO  Two or three groan it is a heavy night, These may be counterfeits, lets think t unsafe To come in to the cry without more help.
RODERIGO  Nobody come? then shall I bleed to death.
LODOVICO  Hark
GRATIANO  Heres one comes in his shirt, with light and weapons.
IAGO  Whos there? whose noise is this that cries on murder?
LODOVICO  We do not know.
IAGO  Did not you hear a cry?
CASSIO  Here, here for heavens sake, help me.
IAGO  Whats the matter?
GRATIANO  This is Othellos ancient, as I take it.
LODOVICO  The same indeed, a very valiant fellow.
IAGO  What are you here that cry so grievously?
CASSIO  Iago? O I am spoild, undone by villains Give me some help.
IAGO  O me, lieutenant what villains have done this?
CASSIO  I think that one of them is hereabout, And cannot make away.
RODERIGO  O help me here.
CASSIO  Thats one of them.
IAGO  O murderous slave O villain
RODERIGO  O damnd Iago O inhuman dog
IAGO  Kill men i the dark Where be these bloody thieves? How silent is this town Ho murder murder What may you be? are you of good or evil?
LODOVICO  As you shall prove us, praise us.
IAGO  Signior Lodovico?
LODOVICO  He, sir.
IAGO  I cry you mercy. Heres Cassio hurt by villains.
GRATIANO  Cassio
IAGO  How is it, brother?
CASSIO  My leg is cut in two.
IAGO  Marry, heaven forbid, Light, gentlemen, Ill bind it with my shirt.
BIANCA  What is the matter, ho? who is t that cried?
IAGO  Who is t that cried
BIANCA  O my dear Cassio my sweet Cassio O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio
IAGO  O notable strumpet Cassio, may you suspect Who they should be that have thus mangled you?
CASSIO  No.
GRATIANO  I am sorry to find you thus, I have been to seek you.
IAGO  Lend me a garter. So. O for a chair, To bear him easily hence
BIANCA  Alas he faints O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio
IAGO  Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash To be a party in this injury. Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come. Lend me a light. Know we this face, or no? Alas my friend and my dear countryman, Roderigo? no yes, sure, O heaven Roderigo.
GRATIANO  What of Venice?
IAGO  Even he, sir did you know him?
GRATIANO  Know him ay.
IAGO  Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle pardon, These bloody accidents must excuse my manners, That so neglected you.
GRATIANO  I am glad to see you.
IAGO  How do you, Cassio? O a chair, a chair
GRATIANO  Roderigo
CASSIO  None in the world, nor do I know the man.
EMILIA  Las whats the matter? whats the matter, husband?
IAGO  Cassio hath here been set on in the dark By Roderigo and fellows that are scapd Hes almost slain, and Roderigo dead.
EMILIA  Alas good gentleman, alas good Cassio
IAGO  This is the fruit of whoring. Prithee, Emilia, Go know of Cassio where he suppd to-night. What do you shake at that?
BIANCA  He suppd at my house, but I therefore shake not.
IAGO  O did he so? I charge you, go with me.
EMILIA  Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet
BIANCA  I am no strumpet, but of life as honest As you that thus abuse me.
EMILIA  As I foh fie upon thee
Aside.  That either makes me or fordoes me quite.
DESDEMONA  Whos there? Othello?
OTHELLO  Ay, Desdemona.
DESDEMONA  Will you come to bed, my lord?
OTHELLO  Have you prayd to-night, Desdemona?
DESDEMONA  Ay, my lord.
OTHELLO  If you bethink yourself of any crime Unreconcild as yet to heaven and grace, Solicit for it straight.
DESDEMONA  Alas my lord, what may you mean by that?
OTHELLO  Well, do it, and be brief, I will walk by I would not kill thy unprepared spirit, No, heaven forfend I would not kill thy soul.
DESDEMONA  Talk you of killing?
OTHELLO  Ay, I do.
DESDEMONA  Then heaven Have mercy on me
OTHELLO  Amen with all my heart.
DESDEMONA  If you say so, I hope you will not kill me.
OTHELLO  Hum
DESDEMONA  And yet I fear you, for you are fatal then When your eyes roll so. Why I should fear I know not, Since guiltiness I know not, but yet I feel I fear.
OTHELLO  Think on thy sins.
DESDEMONA  They are loves I bear to you.
OTHELLO  Ay, and for that thou diest.
DESDEMONA  That deaths unnatural that kills for loving. Alas why gnaw you so your nether lip? Some bloody passion shakes your very frame, These are portents, but yet, I hope, I hope They do not point on me.
OTHELLO  Peace, and be still
DESDEMONA  I will so. Whats the matter?
OTHELLO  That handkerchief which I so lovd and gave thee Thou gavst to Cassio.
DESDEMONA  No, by my life and soul Send for the man and ask him.
OTHELLO  Sweet soul, take heed, Take heed of perjury, thourt on thy death-bed.
DESDEMONA  Ay, but not yet to die.
OTHELLO  Yes, presently, Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin, For to deny each article with oath Cannot remove nor choke the strong conception That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.
DESDEMONA  Then Lord have mercy on me
OTHELLO  I say, amen.
DESDEMONA  And have you mercy too I never did Offend you in my life, never lovd Cassio But with such general warranty of heaven As I might love, I never gave him token.
OTHELLO  By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in s hand. O perjurd woman thou dost stone my heart, And makst me call what I intend to do A murder, which I thought a sacrifice I saw the handkerchief.
DESDEMONA  He found it then, I never gave it him. Send for him hither, Let him confess a truth.
OTHELLO  He hath confessd.
DESDEMONA  What, my lord?
OTHELLO  That he hath usd thee.
DESDEMONA  How? unlawfully?
OTHELLO  Ay.
DESDEMONA  He will not say so.
OTHELLO  No, his mouth is stoppd Honest Iago hath taen order for t.
DESDEMONA  O my fear interprets. What is he dead?
OTHELLO  Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge Had stomach for them all.
DESDEMONA  Alas he is betrayd and I undone.
OTHELLO  Out, strumpet Weepst thou for him to my face?
DESDEMONA  O banish me, my lord, but kill me not
OTHELLO  Down, strumpet
DESDEMONA  Kill me to-morrow, let me live to-night
OTHELLO  Nay, if you strive,—
DESDEMONA  But half an hour
OTHELLO  Being done, there is no pause.
DESDEMONA  But while I say one prayer
OTHELLO  It is too late.
OTHELLO  What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead? I that am cruel am yet merciful, I would not have thee linger in thy pain. So, so.
OTHELLO  Whos there?
OTHELLO  Yes, tis Emilia by and by. Shes dead. Tis like she comes to speak of Cassios death, The noise was high. Ha no more moving? Still as the grave. Shall she come in? Were t good? I think she stirs again no. Whats best to do? If she come in shell sure speak to my wife My wife my wife what wife? I have no wife O, insupportable O heavy hour Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse Of sun and moon, and that the affrighted globe Should yawn at alteration.
Within.  That I may speak with you, O good my lord.
EMILIA  O my good lord, yonders foul murder done.
OTHELLO  What now?
EMILIA  But now, my lord.
OTHELLO  It is the very error of the moon, She comes more near the earth than she was wont, And makes men mad.
EMILIA  Cassio, my lord, has killd a young Venetian Calld Roderigo.
OTHELLO  Roderigo killd And Cassio killd?
EMILIA  No, Cassio is not killd.
OTHELLO  Not Cassio killd then murders out of tune, And sweet revenge grows harsh.
DESDEMONA  O falsely, falsely murderd.
EMILIA  Alas what cry is that?
OTHELLO  That what?
EMILIA  Out, and alas that was my ladys voice Help Help, ho help O lady, speak again Sweet Desdemona O sweet mistress, speak.
DESDEMONA  A guiltless death I die.
EMILIA  O who hath done this deed?
DESDEMONA  Nobody, I myself, farewell Commend me to my kind lord. O farewell
OTHELLO  Why, how should she be murderd?
EMILIA  Alas who knows?
OTHELLO  You heard her say herself it was not I.
EMILIA  She said so, I must needs report the truth.
OTHELLO  Shes like a liar gone to burning hell, Twas I that killd her.
EMILIA  O the more angel she, And you the blacker devil.
OTHELLO  She turnd to folly, and she was a whore.
EMILIA  Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil.
OTHELLO  She was false as water.
EMILIA  Thou art rash as fire to say That she was false O she was heavenly true.
OTHELLO  Cassio did tup her, ask thy husband else. O I were damnd beneath all depth in bell But that I did proceed upon just grounds To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all.
EMILIA  My husband
OTHELLO  Thy husband.
EMILIA  That she was false to wedlock?
OTHELLO  Ay, with Cassio. Nay, had she been true, If heaven would make me such another world Of one entire and perfect chrysolite, Id not have sold her for it.
EMILIA  My husband
OTHELLO  Ay, twas he that told me first An honest man he is, and hates the slime That sticks on filthy deeds.
EMILIA  My husband
OTHELLO  What needs this iterance, woman? I say thy husband.
EMILIA  O mistress villany hath made mocks with love. My husband say that she was false
OTHELLO  He, woman, I say, thy husband dost understand the word? My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago.
EMILIA  If he say so, may his pernicious soul Rot half a grain a day he lies to the heart She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.
OTHELLO  Ha
EMILIA  Do thy worst This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven Than thou wast worthy her.
OTHELLO  Peace you were best.
EMILIA  Thou hast not half the power to do me harm As I have to be hurt. O gull O dolt As ignorant as dirt thou hast done a deed,— I care not for thy sword, Ill make thee known, Though I lost twenty lives. Help help, ho help The Moor has killd my mistress Murder murder
MONTANO  What is the matter? How now, general
EMILIA  O are you come, Iago? you have done well, That men must lay their murders on your neck.
GRATIANO  What is the matter?
EMILIA  Disprove this villain if thou best a man He says thou toldst him that his wife was false. I know thou didst not, thourt not such a villain, Speak, for my heart is full.
IAGO  I told him what I thought, and told no more Than what he found himself was apt and true.
EMILIA  But did you ever tell him she was false?
IAGO  I did.
EMILIA  You told a lie, an odious damned lie, Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie. She false with Cassio Did you say with Cassio?
IAGO  With Cassio, mistress. Go to, charm your tongue.
EMILIA  I will not charm my tongue, I am bound to speak. My mistress here lies murderd in her bed.
ALL  O heavens forfend
EMILIA  And your reports have set the murder on.
OTHELLO  Nay, stare not, masters, it is true, indeed.
GRATIANO  Tis a strange truth.
MONTANO  O monstrous act
EMILIA  Villany villany villany I think upon t, I think, I smell t, O villany I thought so then, Ill kill myself for grief. O villany, villany
IAGO  What are you mad? I charge you, get you home.
EMILIA  Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak Tis proper I obey him, but not now. Perchance, Iago, I will neer go home.
OTHELLO  O O O
EMILIA  Nay, lay thee down and roar, For thou hast killd the sweetest innocent That eer did lift up eye.
OTHELLO  O she was foul. I scarce did know you, uncle. There lies your niece, Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stoppd I know this act shows terrible and grim.
GRATIANO  Poor Desdemona I am glad thy fathers dead. Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief Shore his old thread in twain did he live now, This sight would make him do a desperate turn, Yea, curse his better angel from his side, And fall to reprobation.
OTHELLO  Tis pitiful, but yet Iago knows That she with Cassio hath the act of shame A thousand times committed, Cassio confessd it And she did gratify his amorous works With that recognizance and pledge of love Which I first gave her. I saw it in his hand It was a handkerchief, an antique token My father gave my mother.
EMILIA  O heaven O heavenly powers
IAGO  Come, hold your peace.
EMILIA  Twill out, twill out, I hold my peace, air? no, No, I will speak as liberal as the north, Let heaven and men and devils, let them all, All, all, cry shame against me, yet Ill speak.
IAGO  Be wise, and get you home.
EMILIA  I will not.
GRATIANO  Fie Your sword upon a woman?
EMILIA  O thou dull Moor that handkerchief thou speakst of I found by fortune and did give my husband, For often, with a solemn earnestness, More than, indeed, belongd to such a trifle, He beggd of me to steal it.
IAGO  Villanous whore
EMILIA  She give it Cassio no, alas I found it, And I did give t my husband.
IAGO  Filth, thou liest
EMILIA  By heaven, I do not, I do not, gentlemen. O murderous coxcomb what should such a fool Do with so good a wife?
OTHELLO  Are there no stones in heaven But what serve for the thunder? Precious villain
GRATIANO  The woman falls sure, he has killd his wife.
EMILIA  Ay, ay, O lay me by my mistress side.
GRATIANO  Hes gone, but his wifes killd.
MONTANO  Tis a notorious villain. Take you this weapon, Which I have here recoverd from the Moor. Come, guard the door without, let him not pass, But kill him rather. Ill after that same villain, For tis a damned slave.
OTHELLO  I am not valiant neither, But every puny whipster gets my sword. But why should honour outlive honesty? Let it go all.
EMILIA  What did thy song bode, lady? Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan, And die in music— Willow, willow, willow. Moor, she was chaste, she lovd thee, cruel Moor, So come my soul to bliss as I speak true, So speaking as I think, I die, I die.
OTHELLO  I have another weapon in this chamber, It is a sword of Spain, the ice brooks temper. O here it is. Uncle, I must come forth.
Within.  Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer.
OTHELLO  Look in upon me then, and speak with me, Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee.
GRATIANO  What is the matter?
OTHELLO  Behold I have a weapon, A better never did itself sustain Upon a soldiers thigh I have seen the day, That with this little arm, and this good sword, I have made my way through more impediments Than twenty times your stop but, O vain boast Who can control his fate? tis not so now. Be not afraid, though you do see me weapond, Here is my journeys end, here is my butt, And very sea-mark of my utmost sail. Do you go back dismayd? tis a lost fear, Man but a rush against Othellos breast, And he retires. Where should Othello go? Now how dost thou look now? O ill-starrd wench Pale as thy smock when we shall meet at compt, This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl Even like thy chastity. O cursed, cursed slave. Whip me, ye devils, From the possession of this heavenly sight Blow me about in winds roast me in sulphur Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire O Desdemona Desdemona dead Oh Oh Oh
LODOVICO  Where is this rash and most unfortunate man?
OTHELLO  Thats he that was Othello, here I am.
LODOVICO  Where is that viper? bring the villain forth.
OTHELLO  I look down towards his feet, but thats a fable. If that thou best a devil, I cannot kill thee.
LODOVICO  Wrench his sword from him.
IAGO  I bleed, sir, but not killd.
OTHELLO  I am not sorry neither, Id have thee live, For, in my sense, tis happiness to die.
LODOVICO  O thou Othello that wert once so good, Falln in the practice of a damned slave, What shall be said to thee?
OTHELLO  Why, any thing An honourable murderer, if you will, For nought did I in hate, but all in honour.
LODOVICO  This wretch hath part confessd his villany Did you and he consent in Cassios death?
OTHELLO  Ay.
CASSIO  Dear general, I never gave you cause.
OTHELLO  I do believe it, and I ask your pardon. Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil Why he hath thus ensnard my soul and body?
IAGO  Demand me nothing what you know, you know From this time forth I never will speak word.
LODOVICO  What not to pray?
GRATIANO  Torments will ope your lips.
OTHELLO  Well, thou dost best.
LODOVICO  Sir, you shall understand what hath befalln, Which, as I think, you know not. Here is a letter Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo, And here another, the one of them imports The death of Cassio to be undertook By Roderigo.
OTHELLO  O villain
CASSIO  Most heathenish and most gross
LODOVICO  Now heres another discontented paper, Found in his pocket too, and this, it seems, Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain, But that, belike, Iago in the interim Came in and satisfied him.
OTHELLO  O the pernicious caitiff How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief That was my wifes?
CASSIO  I found it in my chamber, And he himself confessd but even now That there he droppd it for a special purpose Which wrought to his desire.
OTHELLO  O fool fool fool
CASSIO  There is besides in Roderigos letter How he upbraids Iago that he made him Brave me upon the watch, whereon it came That I was cast and even but now he spake, After long seeming dead, Iago hurt him, Iago set him on.
LODOVICO  You must forsake this room and go with us, Your power and your command is taken off, And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave, If there be any cunning cruelty That can torment him much and hold him long, It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest. Till that the nature of your fault be known To the Venetian state. Come, bring him away.
OTHELLO  Soft you, a word or two before you go. I have done the state some service, and they knowt, No more of that. I pray you, in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am, nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice then, must you speak Of one that lovd not wisely but too well, Of one not easily jealous, but, being wrought, Perplexd in the extreme, of one whose hand, Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away Richer than all his tribe, of one whose subdud eyes Albeit unused to the melting mood, Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees Their medcinable gum. Set you down this, And say besides, that in Aleppo once, Where a malignant and a turband Turk Beat a Venetian and traducd the state, I took by the throat the circumcised dog, And smote him thus.
LODOVICO  O bloody period
GRATIANO  All thats spoke is marrd.
CASSIO  This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon, For he was great of heart.
CHORUS  Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-crossd lovers take their life, Whose misadventurd piteous overthrows Do with their death bury their parents strife. The fearful passage of their death-markd love, And the continuance of their parents rage, Which, but their childrens end, nought could remove, Is now the two hours traffick of our stage, The which if you with patient ears attend, What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.
SAMPSON  Gregory, o my word, well not carry coals.
GREGORY  No. for then we should be colliers.
SAMPSON  I mean, an we be in choler, well draw.
GREGORY  Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o the collar.
SAMPSON  I strike quickly, being moved.
GREGORY  But thou art not quickly moved to strike.
SAMPSON  A dog of the house of Montague moves me.
GREGORY  To move is to stir, and to be valiant is to stand, therefore, if thou art moved, thou runnest away.
SAMPSON  A dog of that house shall move me to stand I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montagues.
GREGORY  That shows thee a weak slave, for the weakest goes to the wall.
SAMPSON  Tis true, and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall therefore I will push Montagues men from the wall, and thrust his maids to the wall.
GREGORY  The quarrel is between our masters and us their men.
SAMPSON  Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant when I have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the maids, I will cut off their heads.
GREGORY  The heads of the maids?
SAMPSON  Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads, take it in what sense thou wilt.
GREGORY  They must take it in sense that feel it.
SAMPSON  Me they shall feel while I am able to stand, and tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.
GREGORY  Tis well thou art not fish, if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool, here comes two of the house of the Montagues.
SAMPSON  My naked weapon is out, quarrel, I will back thee.
GREGORY  How turn thy back and run?
SAMPSON  Fear me not.
GREGORY  No, marry, I fear thee
SAMPSON  Let us take the law of our sides, let them begin.
GREGORY  I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as they list.
SAMPSON  Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them, which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.
ABRAHAM  Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
SAMPSON  I do bite my thumb, sir.
ABRAHAM  Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
SAMPSON  No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I bite my thumb, sir.
GREGORY  Do you quarrel, sir?
ABRAHAM  Quarrel, sir no, sir.
SAMPSON  If you do, sir, I am for you I serve as good a man as you.
ABRAHAM  No better.
SAMPSON  Well, sir.
SAMPSON  Yes, better, sir.
ABRAHAM  You lie.
TYBALT  What art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? Turn-thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.
BENVOLIO  I do but keep the peace put up thy sword, Or manage it to part these men with me.
CITIZENS  Clubs, bills, and partisans strike beat them down Down with the Capulets down with the Montagues
CAPULET  What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho
CAPULET  My sword, I say Old Montague is come, And flourishes his blade in spite of me.
MONTAGUE  Thou villain Capulet Hold me not, let me go.
PRINCE  Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,— Will they not hear? What ho you men, you beasts, That quench the fire of your pernicious rage With purple fountains issuing from your veins, On pain of torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mis-temperd weapons to the ground, And hear the sentence of your moved prince. Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, Have thrice disturbd the quiet of our streets, And made Veronas ancient citizens Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, To wield old partisans, in hands as old, Cankerd with peace, to part your cankerd hate. If ever you disturb our streets again Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time, all the rest depart away You, Capulet, shall go along with me, And, Montague, come you this afternoon To know our further pleasure in this case, To old Free-town, our common judgment-place. Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.
MONTAGUE  Who set this ancient quarrel new a-broach? Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?
BENVOLIO  Here were the servants of your adversary And yours close fighting ere I did approach I drew to part them, in the instant came The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepard, Which, as he breathd defiance to my ears, He swung about his head, and cut the winds, Who, nothing hurt withal hissd him in scorn. While we were interchanging thrusts and blows, Came more and more, and fought on part and part, Till the prince came, who parted either part.
BENVOLIO  Madam, an hour before the worshippd sun Peerd forth the golden window of the east, A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad, Where, underneath the grove of sycamore That westward rooteth from the citys side, So early walking did I see your son Towards him I made, but he was ware of me, And stole into the covert of the wood I, measuring his affections by my own, That most are busied when theyre most alone, Pursud my humour not pursuing his, And gladly shunnd who gladly fled from me.
MONTAGUE  Many a morning hath he there been seen, With tears augmenting the fresh mornings dew, Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs But all so soon as the all-cheering sun Should in the furthest east begin to draw The shady curtains from Auroras bed, Away from light steals home my heavy son, And private in his chamber pens himself, Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out, And makes himself an artificial night. Black and portentous must this humour prove Unless good-counsel may the cause remove.
BENVOLIO  My noble uncle, do you know the cause?
MONTAGUE  I neither know it nor can learn of him.
BENVOLIO  Have you importund him by any means?
MONTAGUE  Both by myself and many other friends But he, his own affections counsellor, Is to himself, I will not say how true, But to himself so secret and so close, So far from sounding and discovery, As is the bud bit with an envious worm, Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, We would as willingly give cure as know.
BENVOLIO  See where he comes so please you, step aside, Ill know his grievance, or be much denied.
MONTAGUE  I would thou wert so happy by thy stay, To hear true shrift. Come, madam, lets away.
BENVOLIO  Good morrow, cousin.
ROMEO  Is the day so young?
BENVOLIO  But new struck nine.
ROMEO  Ay me sad hours seem long. Was that my father that went hence so fast?
BENVOLIO  It was. What sadness lengthens Romeos hours?
ROMEO  Not having that, which having, makes them short.
BENVOLIO  In love?
ROMEO  Out—
BENVOLIO  Of love?
ROMEO  Out of her favour, where I am in love.
BENVOLIO  Alas that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof.
ROMEO  Alas that love, whose view is muffled still, Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will. Where shall we dine? O me What fray was here? Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. Heres much to do with hate, but more with love Why then, O brawling love O loving hate O any thing of nothing first create. O heavy lightness serious vanity Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is This love feel I, that feel no love in this. Dost thou not laugh?
BENVOLIO  No, coz, I rather weep.
ROMEO  Good heart, at what?
BENVOLIO  At thy good hearts oppression.
ROMEO  Why, such is loves transgression. Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate to have it pressd With more of thine this love that thou hast shown Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. Love is a smoke raisd with the fume of sighs, Being purgd, a fire sparkling in lovers eyes, Being vexd, a sea nourishd with lovers tears What is it else? a madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. Farewell, my coz.
BENVOLIO  Soft, I will go along, An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.
ROMEO  Tut I have lost myself, I am not here, This is not Romeo, hes some other where.
BENVOLIO  Tell me in sadness, who is that you love.
ROMEO  What shall I groan and tell thee?
BENVOLIO  Groan why, no, But sadly tell me who.
ROMEO  Bid a sick man in sadness make his will, Ah word ill urgd to one that is so ill. In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.
BENVOLIO  I aimd so near when I supposd you lovd.
ROMEO  A right good mark-man And shes fair I love.
BENVOLIO  A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.
ROMEO  Well, in that hit you miss shell not be hit With Cupids arrow, she hath Dians wit, And, in strong proof of chastity well armd, From loves weak childish bow she lives unharmd. She will not stay the siege of loving terms, Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold O she is rich in beauty, only poor That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store.
BENVOLIO  Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?
ROMEO  She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste, For beauty, starvd with her severity, Cuts beauty off from all posterity. She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair, To merit bliss by making me despair She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow Do I live dead that live to tell it now.
BENVOLIO  Be ruld by me, forget to think of her.
ROMEO  O teach me how I should forget to think.
BENVOLIO  By giving liberty unto thine eyes Examine other beauties.
ROMEO  Tis the way To call hers exquisite, in question more. These happy masks that kiss fair ladies brows Being black put us in mind they hide the fair, He, that is strucken blind cannot forget The precious treasure of his eyesight lost Show me a mistress that is passing fair, What doth her beauty serve but as a note Where I may read who passd that passing fair? Farewell thou canst not teach me to forget.
BENVOLIO  Ill pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.
CAPULET  But Montague is bound as well as I, In penalty alike, and tis not hard, I think, For men so old as we to keep the peace.
PARIS  Of honourable reckoning are you both, And pity tis you livd at odds so long. But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?
CAPULET  But saying oer what I have said before My child is yet a stranger in the world, She hath not seen the change of fourteen years, Let two more summers wither in their pride Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
PARIS  Younger than she are happy mothers made.
SERVANT  Find them out whose names are written here It is written that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his nets, but I am sent to find those persons, whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned. In good time.
BENVOLIO  Tut man, one fire burns out anothers burning, One pain is lessend by anothers anguish, Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning, One desperate grief cures with anothers languish Take thou some new infection to thy eye, And the rank poison of the old will die.
ROMEO  Your plantain leaf is excellent for that.
BENVOLIO  For what, I pray thee?
ROMEO  For your broken shin.
BENVOLIO  Why, Romeo, art thou mad?
ROMEO  Not mad, but bound more than a madman is, Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whippd and tormented, and—Good den, good fellow.
SERVANT  God gi good den. I pray, sir, can you read?
ROMEO  Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.
SERVANT  Perhaps you have learnd it without book but, I pray, can you read any thing you see?
ROMEO  Ay, if I know the letters and the language.
SERVANT  Ye say honestly, rest you merry
ROMEO  Stay, fellow, I can read. Signior Martino and his wife and daughters, County Anselme and his beauteous sisters, the lady widow of Vitruvio, Signior Placentio, and his lovely nieces, Mercutio and his brother Valentine, mine uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters, my fair niece Rosaline, Livia, Signior Valentio and his cousin Tybalt, Lucio and the lively Helena. A fair assembly whither should they come?
SERVANT  Up.
ROMEO  Whither?
SERVANT  To supper, to our house.
ROMEO  Whose house?
SERVANT  My masters.
ROMEO  Indeed, I should have asked you that before.
SERVANT  Now Ill tell you without asking. My master is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry
BENVOLIO  At this same ancient feast of Capulets, Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lovst, With all the admired beauties of Verona Go thither, and, with unattainted eye Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.
ROMEO  When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires And these, who often drownd could never die, Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars One fairer than my love the all-seeing sun Neer saw her match since first the world begun.
BENVOLIO  Tut you saw her fair, none else being by, Herself poisd with herself in either eye, But in that crystal scales let there be weighd Your ladys love against some other maid That I will show you shining at this feast, And she shall scant show well that now shows best.
ROMEO  Ill go along, no such sight to be shown, But to rejoice in splendour of mine own.
NURSE  Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old,— I bade her come. What, lamb what, ladybird God forbid wheres this girl? what, Juliet
JULIET  How now who calls?
NURSE  Your mother.
JULIET  Madam, I am here. What is your will?
NURSE  Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
NURSE  Ill lay fourteen of my teeth— And yet to my teen be it spoken I have but four— She is not fourteen. How long is it now To Lammas-tide?
NURSE  Even or odd, of all days in the year, Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen. Susan and she—God rest all Christian souls— Were of an age. Well, Susan is with God, She was too good for me. But, as I said, On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen, That shall she, marry, I remember it well. Tis since the earthquake now eleven years, And she was weand, I never shall forget it, Of all the days of the year, upon that day, For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall, My lord and you were then at Mantua. Nay, I do bear a brain—but, as I said, When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug. Shake, quoth the dove-house twas no need, I trow, To bid me trudge And since that time it is eleven years, For then she could stand high lone, nay, by the rood, She could have run and waddled all about, For even the day before she broke her brow And then my husband—God be with his soul A was a merry man—took up the child Yea, quoth he, dost thou fall upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit, Wilt thou not, Jule? and, by my halidom, The pretty wretch left crying, and said Ay. To see now how a jest shall come about I warrant, an I should live a thousand years, I never should forget it Wilt thou not, Jule? quoth he, And, pretty fool, it stinted and said Ay.
NURSE  Yes, madam. Yet I cannot choose but laugh, To think it should leave crying, and say Ay. And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow A bump as big as a young cockerels stone, A parlous knock, and it cried bitterly Yea, quoth my husband, fallst upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou comst to age, Wilt thou not, Jule? it stinted and said Ay.
JULIET  And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.
NURSE  Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace Thou wast the prettiest babe that eer I nursed An I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish.
JULIET  It is an honour that I dream not of.
NURSE  An honour were not I thine only nurse, I would say thou hadst suckd wisdom from thy teat.
NURSE  A man, young lady lady, such a man As all the world—why, hes a man of wax.
NURSE  Nay, hes a flower, in faith, a very flower.
NURSE  No less nay, bigger, women grow by men.
JULIET  Ill look to like, if looking liking move, But no more deep will I endart mine eye Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.
SERVANT  Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in the pantry, and everything in extremity. I must hence to wait, I beseech you, follow straight.
NURSE  Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.
ROMEO  What shall this speech be spoke for our excuse, Or shall we on without apology?
BENVOLIO  The date is out of such prolixity Well have no Cupid hood-winkd with a scarf, Bearing a Tartars painted bow of lath, Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper, Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke After the prompter, for our entrance But, let them measure us by what they will, Well measure them a measure, and be gone.
ROMEO  Give me a torch I am not for this ambling, Being but heavy, I will bear the light.
MERCUTIO  Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.
ROMEO  Not I, believe me you have dancing shoes With nimble soles, I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
MERCUTIO  You are a lover, borrow Cupids wings, And soar with them above a common bound.
ROMEO  I am too sore enpierced with his shaft To soar with his light feathers, and so bound I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe Under loves heavy burden do I sink.
MERCUTIO  And, to sink in it, should you burden love, Too great oppression for a tender thing.
ROMEO  Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.
BENVOLIO  Come, knock and enter, and no sooner in, But every man betake him to his legs.
ROMEO  A torch for me, let wantons, light of heart, Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels, For I am proverbd with a grandsire phrase, Ill be a candle holder, and look on. The game was neer so fair, and I am done.
MERCUTIO  Tut duns the mouse, the constables own word. If thou art Dun, well draw thee from the mire, Of—save your reverence—love, wherein thou stickst Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho
ROMEO  Nay, thats not so.
MERCUTIO  I mean, sir, in delay We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits Five times in that ere once in our five wits.
ROMEO  And we mean well in going to this masque, But tis no wit to go.
MERCUTIO  Why, may one ask?
ROMEO  I dreamd a dream to-night.
MERCUTIO  And so did I.
ROMEO  Well, what was yours?
MERCUTIO  That dreamers often lie.
ROMEO  In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.
MERCUTIO  O then, I see, Queen Mab hath been with you.
BENVOLIO  Queen Mab Whats she?
MERCUTIO  She is the fairies midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart mens noses as they lie asleep Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners legs, The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers, The traces, of the smallest spiders web, The collars, of the moonshines watery beams, Her whip, of crickets bone, the lash, of film, Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat, Not half so big as a round little worm Prickd from the lazy finger of a maid, Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut, Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, Time out o mind the fairies coach-makers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers brains, and then they dream of love, Oer courtiers knees, that dream on curtsies straight, Oer lawyers fingers, who straight dream on fees, Oer ladies lips, who straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. Sometimes she gallops oer a courtiers nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit, And sometimes comes she with a tithe pigs tail, Tickling a parsons nose as a lies asleep, Then dreams he of another benefice, Sometime she driveth oer a soldiers neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish bladed, Of healths five fathom deep, and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, And sleeps again. This is that very Mab That plats the manes of horses in the night, And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, Which once untangled much misfortune bodes, This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good carriage This is she—
ROMEO  Peace, peace Mercutio, peace Thou talkst of nothing.
MERCUTIO  True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air, And more inconstant than the wind, who woos Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being angerd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.
BENVOLIO  This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves, Supper is done, and we shall come too late.
ROMEO  I fear too early, for my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this nights revels, and expire the term Of a despised life closd in my breast By some vile forfeit of untimely death. But he, that hath the steerage of my course, Direct my sail, On, lusty gentlemen.
BENVOLIO  Strike, drum.
SERVANT  Wheres Potpan, that he helps not to take away? he shift a trencher he scrape a trencher
SERVANT2  When good manners shall lie all in one or two mens hands, and they unwashed too, tis a foul thing.
SERVANT  Away with the joint-stools, remove the court-cupboard, look to the plate. Good thou, save me a piece of marchpane, and, as thou lovest me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell. Antony and Potpan
SERVANT2  Ay, boy, ready.
SERVANT  You are looked for and called for, asked for and sought for in the great chamber.
SERVANT3  We cannot be here and there too.
CAPULET2  Byr Lady, thirty years.
CAPULET  What, man tis not so much, tis not so much Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio, Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, Some five and twenty years, and then we maskd.
CAPULET2  Tis more, tis more, his son is older, sir. His son is thirty.
CAPULET  Will you tell me that? His son was but a ward two years ago.
ROMEO  What lady is that which doth enrich the hand Of yonder knight?
SERVANT  I know not, sir.
ROMEO  O she doth teach the torches to burn bright. It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiops ear, Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, As yonder lady oer her fellows shows. The measure done, Ill watch her place of stand, And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight For I neer saw true beauty till this night.
TYBALT  This, by his voice, should be a Montague. Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave Come hither, coverd with an antick face, To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.
CAPULET  Why, how now, kinsman wherefore storm you so?
TYBALT  Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe, A villain that is hither come in spite, To scorn at our solemnity this night.
CAPULET  Young Romeo, is it?
TYBALT  Tis he, that villain Romeo.
CAPULET  Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone He bears him like a portly gentleman, And, to say truth, Verona brags of him To be a virtuous and well-governd youth. I would not for the wealth of all this town Here in my house do him disparagement, Therefore be patient, take no note of him It is my will, the which if thou respect, Show a fair presence and put off these frowns, An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.
TYBALT  It fits, when such a villain is a guest Ill not endure him.
CAPULET  He shall be endurd What goodman boy, I say, he shall, go to, Am I the master here, or you? go to. Youll not endure him God shall mend my soul Youll make a mutiny among my guests You will set cock-a-hoop youll be the man
TYBALT  Why, uncle, tis a shame.
CAPULET  Go to, go to, You are a saucy boy—ist so indeed?— This trick may chance to scathe you.—I know what You must contrary me marry, tis time. Well said, my hearts You are a princox, go Be quiet, or—More light, more light—For shame Ill make you quiet. What cheerly, my hearts
TYBALT  Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. I will withdraw, but this intrusion shall Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall.
JULIET  Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this, For saints have hands that pilgrims hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers kiss.
ROMEO  Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
JULIET  Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
ROMEO  O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do, They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
JULIET  Saints do not move, though grant for prayers sake.
ROMEO  Then move not, while my prayers effect I take. Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purgd.
JULIET  Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
ROMEO  Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urgd Give me my sin again.
JULIET  You kiss by the book.
NURSE  Madam, your mother craves a word with you.
ROMEO  What is her mother?
NURSE  Marry, bachelor, Her mother is the lady of the house, And a good lady, and a wise, and virtuous I nursd her daughter, that you talkd withal, I tell you he that can lay hold of her Shall have the chinks.
ROMEO  Is she a Capulet? O dear account my life is my foes debt.
BENVOLIO  Away, be gone, the sport is at the best.
ROMEO  Ay, so I fear, the more is my unrest.
CAPULET  Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone, We have a trifling foolish banquet towards. Is it een so? Why then, I thank you all, I thank you, honest gentlemen, good-night. More torches here Come on then, lets to bed. Ah sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late, Ill to my rest.
JULIET  Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman?
NURSE  The son and heir of old Tiberio.
JULIET  Whats he that now is going out of door?
NURSE  Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio.
JULIET  Whats he, that follows there, that would not dance?
NURSE  I know not.
JULIET  Go, ask his name.—If he be married, My grave is like to be my wedding bed.
NURSE  His name is Romeo, and a Montague, The only son of your great enemy.
JULIET  My only love sprung from my only hate Too early seen unknown, and known too late Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy.
NURSE  Whats this, whats this?
JULIET  A rime I learnd even now Of one I dancd withal.
NURSE  Anon, anon— Come, lets away, the strangers are all gone.
CHORUS  Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie, And young affection gapes to be his heir, That fair for which love groand for and would die, With tender Juliet matchd, is now not fair. Now Romeo is belovd and loves again, Alike bewitched by the charm of looks, But to his foe supposd he must complain, And she steal loves sweet bait from fearful hooks Being held a foe, he may not have access To breathe such vows as lovers usd to swear, And she as much in love, her means much less To meet her new-beloved any where But passion lends them power, time means, to meet, Tempering extremity with extreme sweet.
BENVOLIO  Romeo my cousin Romeo
MERCUTIO  He is wise, And, on my life, hath stoln him home to bed.
BENVOLIO  He ran this way, and leapd this orchard wall Call, good Mercutio.
MERCUTIO  Nay, Ill conjure too. Romeo humours madman passion lover Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh Speak but one rime and I am satisfied, Cry but Ay me couple but love and dove, Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word. One nickname for her purblind son and heir, Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim When King Cophetua lovd the beggar-maid. He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not, The ape is dead, and I must conjure him. I conjure thee by Rosalines bright eyes, By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip, By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh, And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, That in thy likeness thou appear to us.
BENVOLIO  An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.
MERCUTIO  This cannot anger him twould anger him To raise a spirit in his mistress circle Of some strange nature, letting it there stand Till she had laid it, and conjurd it down, That were some spite my invocation Is fair and honest, and in his mistress name I conjure only but to raise up him.
BENVOLIO  Come, he hath hid himself among these trees, To be consorted with the humorous night Blind is his love and best befits the dark.
MERCUTIO  If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. Now will he sit under a medlar tree, And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone. O Romeo that she were, O that she were An open et cætera, thou a poperin pear. Romeo, good night Ill to my truckle-bed, This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep Come, shall we go?
BENVOLIO  Go, then, for tis in vain To seek him here that means not to be found.
JULIET  Ay me
ROMEO  She speaks O speak again, bright angel, for thou art As glorious to this night, being oer my head, As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wondring eyes Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds, And sails upon the bosom of the air.
JULIET  O Romeo, Romeo wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name, Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And Ill no longer be a Capulet.
JULIET  Tis but thy name that is my enemy, Thou art thyself though, not a Montague. Whats Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O be some other name Whats in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet, So Romeo would, were he not Romeo calld, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself.
ROMEO  I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and Ill be new baptizd, Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
JULIET  What man art thou, that, thus bescreend in night, So stumblest on my counsel?
ROMEO  By a name I know not how to tall thee who I am My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, Because it is an enemy to thee Had I it written, I would tear the word.
JULIET  My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Of that tongues uttering, yet I know the sound Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?
ROMEO  Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike.
JULIET  How camst thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, And the place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here.
ROMEO  With loves light wings did I oerperch these walls, For stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do that dares love attempt, Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.
JULIET  If they do see thee they will murder thee.
ROMEO  Alack there lies more peril in thine eye Than twenty of their swords look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity.
JULIET  I would not for the world they saw thee here.
ROMEO  I have nights cloak to hide me from their eyes, And but thou love me, let them find me here, My life were better ended by their hate, Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.
JULIET  By whose direction foundst thou out this place?
ROMEO  By Love, that first did prompt me to inquire, He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. I am no pilot, yet, wert thou as far As that vast shore washd with the furthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise.
JULIET  Thou knowst the mask of night is on my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny What I have spoke but farewell compliment Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say Ay, And I will take thy word, yet, if thou swearst, Thou mayst prove false, at lovers perjuries, They say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully Or if thou thinkst I am too quickly won, Ill frown and be perverse and say thee nay, So thou wilt woo, but else, not for the world. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond, And therefore thou mayst think my haviour light But trust me, gentleman, Ill prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be strange. I should have been more strange, I must confess, But that thou over-heardst, ere I was ware, My true loves passion therefore pardon me, And not impute this yielding to light love, Which the dark night hath so discovered.
ROMEO  Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops,—
JULIET  O swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
ROMEO  What shall I swear by?
JULIET  Do not swear at all, Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, Which is the god of my idolatry, And Ill believe thee.
ROMEO  If my hearts dear love—
JULIET  Well, do not swear. Although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night It is too rash, too unadvisd, too sudden, Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be Ere one can say it lightens. Sweet, good-night This bud of love, by summers ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Good-night, good-night as sweet repose and rest Come to thy heart as that within my breast
ROMEO  O wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
JULIET  What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?
ROMEO  The exchange of thy loves faithful vow for mine.
JULIET  I gave thee mine before thou didst request it, And yet I would it were to give again.
ROMEO  Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love?
ROMEO  O blessed, blessed night I am afeard, Being in night, all this is but a dream, Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.
JULIET  Three words, dear Romeo, and good-night indeed. If that thy bent of love be honourable, Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, By one that Ill procure to come to thee, Where, and what time, thou wilt perform the rite, And all my fortunes at thy foot Ill lay, And follow thee my lord throughout the world.
JULIET  I come, anon.—But if thou meanst not well, I do beseech thee,—
JULIET  By and by, I come— To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief To-morrow will I send.
ROMEO  So thrive my soul,—
JULIET  A thousand times good-night
JULIET  Hist Romeo, hist O for a falconers voice, To lure this tassel-gentle back again. Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud, Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine, With repetition of my Romeos name.
ROMEO  It is my soul that calls upon my name How silver-sweet sound lovers tongues by night, Like softest music to attending ears
JULIET  Romeo
ROMEO  My dear
JULIET  At what oclock to-morrow Shall I send to thee?
ROMEO  At the hour of nine.
JULIET  I will not fail, tis twenty years till then. I have forgot why I did call thee back.
ROMEO  Let me stand here till thou remember it.
JULIET  I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, Remembering how I love thy company.
ROMEO  And Ill still stay, to have thee still forget, Forgetting any other home but this.
JULIET  Tis almost morning, I would have thee gone, And yet no further than a wantons bird, Who lets it hop a little from her hand, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, And with a silk thread plucks it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty.
ROMEO  I would I were thy bird.
JULIET  Sweet, so would I Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good-night, good-night parting is such sweet sorrow That I shall say good-night till it be morrow.
ROMEO  Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest Hence will I to my ghostly fathers cell, His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.
ROMEO  Good morrow, father
ROMEO  That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine.
ROMEO  With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no, I have forgot that name, and that names woe.
ROMEO  Ill tell thee, ere thou ask it me again. I have been feasting with mine enemy, Where on a sudden one hath wounded me, Thats by me wounded both our remedies Within thy help and holy physic lies I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo My intercession likewise steads my foe.
ROMEO  Then plainly know my hearts dear love is set On the fair daughter of rich Capulet As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine, And all combind, save what thou must combine By holy marriage when and where and how We met we wood and made exchange of vow, Ill tell thee as we pass, but this I pray, That thou consent to marry us to-day.
ROMEO  Thou chiddst me oft for loving Rosaline.
ROMEO  And badst me bury love.
ROMEO  I pray thee, chide not, she, whom I love now Doth grace for grace and love for love allow, The other did not so.
ROMEO  O let us hence, I stand on sudden haste.
MERCUTIO  Where the devil should this Romeo be? Came he not home to-night?
BENVOLIO  Not to his fathers, I spoke with his man.
MERCUTIO  Why that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline, Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.
BENVOLIO  Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet, Hath sent a letter to his fathers house.
MERCUTIO  A challenge, on my life.
BENVOLIO  Romeo will answer it.
MERCUTIO  Any man that can write may answer a letter.
BENVOLIO  Nay, he will answer the letters master, how he dares, being dared.
MERCUTIO  Alas poor Romeo, he is already dead, stabbed with a white wenchs black eye, shot through the ear with a love-song, the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boys butt-shaft, and is he a man to encounter Tybalt?
BENVOLIO  Why, what is Tybalt?
MERCUTIO  More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O he is the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and proportion, rests me his minim rest, one, two, and the third in your bosom, the very butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist, a gentleman of the very first house, of the first and second cause. Ah the immortal passado the punto reverso the hay
BENVOLIO  The what?
MERCUTIO  The pox of such antick, lisping, affecting fantasticoes, these new tuners of accents—By Jesu, a very good blade—a very tall man a very good whore.—Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these pardonnez-mois, who stand so much on the new form that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench? O, their bons, their bons
BENVOLIO  Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.
MERCUTIO  Without his roe, like a dried herring. O flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in Laura to his lady was but a kitchen-wench, marry, she had a better love to be-rime her, Dido a dowdy, Cleopatra a gipsy, Helen and Hero hildings and harlots, Thisbe, a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo, bon jour theres a French salutation to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.
ROMEO  Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?
MERCUTIO  The slip, sir, the slip, can you not conceive?
ROMEO  Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great, and in such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.
MERCUTIO  Thats as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams.
ROMEO  Meaning—to curtsy.
MERCUTIO  Thou hast most kindly hit it.
ROMEO  A most courteous exposition.
MERCUTIO  Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
ROMEO  Pink for flower.
MERCUTIO  Right.
ROMEO  Why, then, is my pump well flowered.
MERCUTIO  Well said, follow me this jest now till thou hast worn out the pump, that, when the single sole of it is worn, the jest may remain after the wearing sole singular.
ROMEO  O single-soled jest solely singular for the singleness.
MERCUTIO  Come between us, good Benvolio, my wit faints.
ROMEO  Switch and spurs, switch and spurs, or Ill cry a match.
MERCUTIO  Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I have done, for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five. Was I with you there for the goose?
ROMEO  Thou wast never with me for anything when thou wast not here for the goose.
MERCUTIO  I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.
ROMEO  Nay, good goose, bite not.
MERCUTIO  Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting, it is a most sharp sauce.
ROMEO  And is it not then well served in to a sweet goose?
MERCUTIO  O heres a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad.
ROMEO  I stretch it out for that word broad, which added to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.
MERCUTIO  Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo, now art thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature for this drivelling love is like a great natural, that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole.
BENVOLIO  Stop there, stop there.
MERCUTIO  Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair.
BENVOLIO  Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.
MERCUTIO  O thou art deceived, I would have made it short, for I was come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant indeed to occupy the argument no longer.
ROMEO  Heres goodly gear
MERCUTIO  A sail, a sail
BENVOLIO  Two, two, a shirt and a smock.
NURSE  Peter
PETER  Anon
NURSE  My fan, Peter.
MERCUTIO  Good Peter, to hide her face, for her fans the fairer face.
NURSE  God ye good morrow, gentlemen.
MERCUTIO  God ye good den, fair gentlewoman.
NURSE  Is it good den?
MERCUTIO  Tis no less, I tell you, for the bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the prick of noon.
NURSE  Out upon you what a man are you
ROMEO  One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to mar.
NURSE  By my troth, it is well said, for himself to mar, quoth a?—Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may find the young Romeo?
ROMEO  I can tell you, but young Romeo will be older when you have found him than he was when you sought him I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse.
NURSE  You say well.
MERCUTIO  Yea is the worst well? very well took, i faith, wisely, wisely.
NURSE  If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you.
BENVOLIO  She will indite him to some supper.
MERCUTIO  A bawd, a bawd, a bawd So ho
ROMEO  What hast thou found?
Sings.  An old hare hoar, and an old hare hoar, Is very good meat in Lent But a hare that is hoar, is too much for a score, When it hoars ere it be spent. Romeo, will you come to your fathers? well to dinner thither.
ROMEO  I will follow you.
MERCUTIO  Farewell, ancient lady, farewell, Lady, lady, lady.
NURSE  Marry, farewell I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was this, that was so full of his ropery?
ROMEO  A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk, and will speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month.
PETER  I saw no man use you at his pleasure, if I had, my weapon should quickly have been out, I warrant you. I dare draw as soon as another man, if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the law on my side.
NURSE  Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that every part about me quivers. Scurvy knave Pray you, sir, a word, and as I told you, my young lady bade me inquire you out, what she bid me say I will keep to myself, but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into a fools paradise, as they say, it were a very gross kind of behaviour, as they say for the gentlewoman is young, and, therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly it were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.
ROMEO  Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto thee,—
NURSE  Good heart and i faith, I will tell her as much. Lord, Lord she will be a joyful woman.
ROMEO  What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost not mark me.
NURSE  I will tell her, sir, that you do protest, which, as I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.
ROMEO  Bid her devise Some means to come to shrift this afternoon, And there she shall at Friar Laurence cell, Be shrivd and married. Here is for thy pains.
NURSE  No, truly, sir, not a penny.
ROMEO  Go to, I say, you shall.
NURSE  This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there.
ROMEO  And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey wall Within this hour my man shall be with thee, And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair, Which to the high top-gallant of my joy Must be my convoy in the secret night. Farewell Be trusty, and Ill quit thy pains. Farewell Commend me to thy mistress.
NURSE  Now God in heaven bless thee Hark you, sir.
ROMEO  What sayst thou, my dear nurse?
NURSE  Is your man secret? Did you neer hear say, Two may keep counsel, putting one away?
ROMEO  I warrant thee my mans as true as steel.
NURSE  Well, sir, my mistress is the sweetest lady—Lord, Lord—when twas a little prating thing,—O theres a nobleman in town, one Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard, but she, good soul, had as lief see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her sometimes and tell her that Paris is the properer man, but, Ill warrant you, when I say so, she looks as pale as any clout in the versal world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter?
ROMEO  Ay, nurse what of that? both with an R.
NURSE  Ah mocker, thats the dogs name. R is for the—No, I know it begins with some other letter and she had the prettiest sententious of it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good to hear it.
ROMEO  Commend me to thy lady.
PETER  Anon
NURSE  Before, and apace.
NURSE  Peter, stay at the gate.
JULIET  Now, good sweet nurse, O Lord why lookst thou sad? Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily, If good, thou shamst the music of sweet news By playing it to me with so sour a face.
NURSE  I am aweary, give me leave awhile Fie, how my bones ache What a jaunce have I had
JULIET  I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news. Nay, come, I pray thee, speak, good, good nurse, speak.
NURSE  Jesu what haste? can you not stay awhile? Do you not see that I am out of breath?
JULIET  How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath To say to me that thou art out of breath? The excuse that thou dost make in this delay Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse. Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that, Say either, and Ill stay the circumstance Let me be satisfied, is t good or bad?
NURSE  Well, you have made a simple choice, you know not how to choose a man Romeo no, not he, though his face be better than any mans, yet his leg excels all mens, and for a hand, and a foot, and a body, though they be not to be talked on, yet they are past compare. He is not the flower of courtesy, but, Ill warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. Go thy ways, wench, serve God. What have you dined at home?
JULIET  No, no but all this did I know before. What says he of our marriage? what of that?
NURSE  Lord how my head aches, what a head have I It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. My back o tother side, O my back, my back Beshrew your heart for sending me about, To catch my death with jauncing up and down.
JULIET  I faith, I am sorry that thou art not well. Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love?
NURSE  Your love says, like an honest gentleman, and a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, and, I warrant, a virtuous,—Where is your mother?
JULIET  Where is my mother why, she is within, Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest Your love says, like an honest gentleman, Where is your mother?
NURSE  O Gods lady dear, Are you so hot? Marry, come up, I trow, Is this the poultice for my aching bones? Henceforward do your messages yourself.
JULIET  Heres such a coil come, what says Romeo?
NURSE  Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day?
JULIET  I have.
NURSE  Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence cell, There stays a husband to make you a wife Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks, Theyll be in scarlet straight at any news. Hie you to church, I must another way, To fetch a ladder, by the which your love Must climb a birds nest soon when it is dark, I am the drudge and toil in your delight, But you shall bear the burden soon at night. Go, Ill to dinner hie you to the cell.
JULIET  Hie to high fortune Honest nurse, farewell.
ROMEO  Amen, amen but come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy That one short minute gives me in her sight Do thou but close our hands with holy words, Then love-devouring death do what he dare, It is enough I may but call her mine.
JULIET  Good even to my ghostly confessor.
JULIET  As much to him, else are his thanks too much.
ROMEO  Ah Juliet, if the measure of thy joy Be heapd like mine, and that thy skill be more To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour air, and let rich musics tongue Unfold the imagind happiness that both Receive in either by this dear encounter.
JULIET  Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, Brags of his substance, not of ornament They are but beggars that can count their worth, But my true love is grown to such excess I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.
BENVOLIO  I pray thee, good Mercutio, lets retire The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, And, if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl, For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.
MERCUTIO  Thou art like one of those fellows that when he enters the confines of a tavern claps me his sword upon the table and says, God send me no need of thee and by the operation of the second cup draws him on the drawer, when, indeed, there is no need.
BENVOLIO  Am I like such a fellow?
MERCUTIO  Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved.
BENVOLIO  And what to?
MERCUTIO  Nay, an there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou why, thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more or a hair less in his beard than thou hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes. What eye, but such an eye, would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling. Thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter? with another, for tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling
BENVOLIO  An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.
MERCUTIO  The fee-simple O simple
BENVOLIO  By my head, here come the Capulets.
MERCUTIO  By my heel, I care not.
TYBALT  Follow me close, for I will speak to them. Gentlemen, good den a word with one of you.
MERCUTIO  And but one word with one of us? Couple it with something, make it a word and a blow.
TYBALT  You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you will give me occasion.
MERCUTIO  Could you not take some occasion without giving?
TYBALT  Mercutio, thou consortst with Romeo,—
MERCUTIO  Consort What dost thou make us minstrels? an thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords heres my fiddlestick, heres that shall make you dance. Zounds consort
BENVOLIO  We talk here in the public haunt of men Either withdraw unto some private place, Or reason coldly of your grievances, Or else depart, here all eyes gaze on us.
MERCUTIO  Mens eyes were made to look, and let them gaze, I will not budge for no mans pleasure, I.
TYBALT  Well, peace be with you, sir. Here comes my man.
MERCUTIO  But Ill be hangd, sir, if he wear your livery Marry, go before to field, hell be your follower, Your worship in that sense may call him man.
TYBALT  Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford No better term than this,—thou art a villain.
ROMEO  Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee Doth much excuse the appertaining rage To such a greeting, villain am I none, Therefore farewell, I see thou knowst me not.
TYBALT  Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries That thou hast done me, therefore turn and draw.
ROMEO  I do protest I never injurd thee, But love thee better than thou canst devise, Till thou shalt know the reason of my love And so, good Capulet, which name I tender As dearly as my own, be satisfied.
Draws.  Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?
TYBALT  What wouldst thou have with me?
MERCUTIO  Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives, that I mean to make bold withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pilcher by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out.
ROMEO  Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
MERCUTIO  Come, sir, your passado.
ROMEO  Draw, Benvolio, beat down their weapons. Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath Forbidden bandying in Verona streets. Hold, Tybalt good Mercutio
MERCUTIO  I am hurt. A plague o both your houses I am sped. Is he gone, and hath nothing?
BENVOLIO  What art thou hurt?
MERCUTIO  Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch, marry, tis enough. Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon.
ROMEO  Courage, man, the hurt cannot be much.
MERCUTIO  No, tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door, but tis enough, twill serve ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o both your houses Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm.
ROMEO  I thought all for the best.
MERCUTIO  Help me into some house, Benvolio, Or I shall faint. A plague o both your houses They have made worms meat of me I have it, And soundly too—your houses
ROMEO  This gentleman, the princes near ally, My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt In my behalf, my reputation staind With Tybalts slander, Tybalt, that an hour Hath been my kinsman. O sweet Juliet Thy beauty hath made me effeminate, And in my temper softend valours steel
BENVOLIO  O Romeo, Romeo brave Mercutios dead, That gallant spirit hath aspird the clouds, Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.
ROMEO  This days black fate on more days doth depend, This but begins the woe others must end.
BENVOLIO  Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
ROMEO  Alive in triumph and Mercutio slain Away to heaven, respective lenity, And fire-eyd fury be my conduct now Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again That late thou gavst me, for Mercutios soul Is but a little way above our heads, Staying for thine to keep him company Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.
TYBALT  Thou wretched boy, that didst consort him here, Shalt with him hence.
ROMEO  This shall determine that.
BENVOLIO  Romeo, away be gone The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain. Stand not amazd the prince will doom thee death If thou art taken hence be gone away
ROMEO  O I am Fortunes fool.
BENVOLIO  Why dost thou stay?
CITIZEN1  Which way ran he that killd Mercutio? Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he?
BENVOLIO  There lies that Tybalt.
CITIZEN1  Up, sir, go with me. I charge thee in the princes name, obey.
PRINCE  Where are the vile beginners of this fray?
BENVOLIO  O noble prince I can discover all The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.
PRINCE  Benvolio, who began this bloody fray?
BENVOLIO  Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeos hand did slay Romeo, that spoke him fair, bade him bethink How nice the quarrel was, and urgd withal Your high displeasure all this, uttered With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bowd, Could not take truce with the unruly spleen Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts With piercing steel at bold Mercutios breast, Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point, And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats Cold death aside, and with the other sends It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity Retorts it Romeo he cries aloud, Hold, friends friends, part and, swifter than his tongue, His agile arm beats down their fatal points, And twixt them rushes, underneath whose arm An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled, But by and by comes back to Romeo, Who had but newly entertaind revenge, And to t they go like lightning, for, ere I. Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain, And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly. This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.
PRINCE  Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio, Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?
MONTAGUE  Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutios friend, His fault concludes but what the law should end, The life of Tybalt.
PRINCE  And for that offence Immediately we do exile him hence I have an interest in your hates proceeding, My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding, But Ill amerce you with so strong a fine That you shall all repent the loss of mine. I will be deaf to pleading and excuses, Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses, Therefore use none, let Romeo hence in haste, Else, when hes found, that hour is his last. Bear hence this body and attend our will Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.
NURSE  Ay, ay, the cords.
JULIET  Ah me what news? why dost thou wring thy hands?
NURSE  Ah well-a-day hes dead, hes dead, hes dead We are undone, lady, we are undone Alack the day hes gone, hes killed, hes dead
JULIET  Can heaven be so envious?
NURSE  Romeo can, Though heaven cannot. O Romeo, Romeo, Who ever would have thought it? Romeo
JULIET  What devil art thou that dost torment me thus? This torture should be roard in dismal hell. Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but I, And that bare vowel, I, shall poison more Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice I am not I, if there be such an I, Or those eyes shut that make thee answer I. If he be slain, say I, or if not no Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe.
NURSE  I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes, God save the mark here on his manly breast A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse, Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaubd in blood, All in gore blood, I swounded at the sight.
JULIET  O break, my heart—poor bankrupt, break at once To prison, eyes, neer look on liberty Vile earth, to earth resign, end motion here, And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier
NURSE  O Tybalt, Tybalt the best friend I had O courteous Tybalt honest gentleman That ever I should live to see thee dead
JULIET  What storm is this that blows so contrary? Is Romeo slaughterd, and is Tybalt dead? My dearest cousin, and my dearer lord? Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom For who is living if those two are gone?
NURSE  Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished, Romeo, that killd him, he is banished.
JULIET  O God did Romeos hand shed Tybalts blood?
NURSE  It did, it did, alas the day it did.
JULIET  O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant fiend angelical Dove-featherd raven wolvish-ravening lamb Despised substance of divinest show Just opposite to what thou justly seemst, A damned saint, an honourable villain O, nature what hadst thou to do in hell When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh? Was ever book containing such vile matter So fairly bound? O that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous palace.
NURSE  Theres no trust, No faith, no honesty in men, all naught, All perjurd, all dissemblers, all forsworn. Ah wheres my man? give me some aqua vitæ These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old. Shame come to Romeo
JULIET  Blisterd be thy tongue For such a wish he was not born to shame Upon his brow shame is ashamd to sit, For tis a throne where honour may be crownd Sole monarch of the universal earth. O what a beast was I to chide at him.
NURSE  Will you speak well of him that killd your cousin?
JULIET  Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? Ah poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it? But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? That villain cousin would have killd my husband Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring, Your tributary drops belong to woe, Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy. My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain, And Tybalts dead, that would have slain my husband All this is comfort, wherefore weep I then? Some word there was, worser than Tybalts death, That murderd me I would forget it fain, But O it presses to my memory, Like damned guilty deeds to sinners minds. Tybalt is dead, and Romeo banished That banished, that one word banished, Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalts death Was woe enough, if it had ended there Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship, And needly will be rankd with other griefs, Why followd not, when she said Tybalts dead, Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both, Which modern lamentation might have movd? But with a rearward following Tybalts death, Romeo is banished to speak that word Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, All slain, all dead Romeo is banished There is no end, no limit, measure, bound In that words death, no words can that woe sound.— Where is my father and my mother, nurse?
NURSE  Weeping and wailing over Tybalts corse Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.
JULIET  Wash they his wounds with tears mine shall be spent, When theirs are dry, for Romeos banishment. Take up those cords. Poor ropes, you are beguild, Both you and I, for Romeo is exild He made you for a highway to my bed, But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. Come, cords, come, nurse, Ill to my wedding bed, And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead
NURSE  Hie to your chamber, Ill find Romeo To comfort you I wot well where he is. Hark ye, your Romeo will be here to-night Ill to him, he is hid at Laurence cell.
JULIET  O find him, give this ring to my true knight, And bid him come to take his last farewell.
ROMEO  Father, what news? what is the princes doom? What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand, That I yet know not?
ROMEO  What less than doomsday is the princes doom?
ROMEO  Ha banishment be merciful, say death, For exile hath more terror in his look, Much more than death do not say banishment.
ROMEO  There is no world without Verona walls, But purgatory, torture, hell itself. Hence banished is banishd from the world, And worlds exile is death, then banished, Is death mis-termd. Calling death banished, Thou cuttst my head off with a golden axe, And smilst upon the stroke that murders me.
ROMEO  Tis torture, and not mercy heaven is here, Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog And little mouse, every unworthy thing, Live here in heaven and may look on her, But Romeo may not more validity, More honourable state, more courtship lives In carrion flies than Romeo they may seize On the white wonder of dear Juliets hand, And steal immortal blessing from her lips, Who, even in pure and vestal modesty, Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin, Flies may do this, but I from this must fly They are free men, but I am banished. And sayst thou yet that exile is not death? Hadst thou no poison mixd, no sharp-ground knife, No sudden mean of death, though neer so mean, But banished to kill me? Banished O friar the damned use that word in hell, Howlings attend it how hast thou the heart, Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, A sin-absolver, and my friend professd, To mangle me with that word banished?
ROMEO  O thou wilt speak again of banishment.
ROMEO  Yet banished Hang up philosophy Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, Displant a town, reverse a princes doom, It helps not, it prevails not talk no more.
ROMEO  How should they, when that wise men have no eyes?
ROMEO  Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, Doting like me, and like me banished, Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair, And fall upon the ground, as I do now, Taking the measure of an unmade grave.
ROMEO  Not I, unless the breath of heart-sick groans, Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes.
Knocking.  Who knocks so hard? whence come you? whats your will?
Within.  I come from Lady Juliet.
NURSE  O holy friar O tell me, holy friar, Where is my ladys lord? wheres Romeo?
NURSE  O he is even in my mistress case, Just in her case
ROMEO  Nurse
NURSE  Ah, sir ah, sir Well, deaths the end of all.
ROMEO  Spakst thou of Juliet? how is it with her? Doth she not think me an old murderer, Now I have staind the childhood of our joy. With blood removd but little from her own? Where is she? and how doth she? and what says My conceald lady to our cancelld love?
NURSE  O she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps, And now falls on her bed, and then starts up, And Tybalt calls, and then on Romeo cries, And then down falls again.
ROMEO  As if that name, Shot from the deadly level of a gun, Did murder her, as that names cursed hand Murderd her kinsman. O tell me, friar, tell me, In what vile part of this anatomy Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may sack The hateful mansion.
NURSE  O Lord I could have stayd here all the night To hear good counsel O what learning is. My lord, Ill tell my lady you will come.
ROMEO  Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.
NURSE  Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir. Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.
ROMEO  How well my comfort is revivd by this
ROMEO  But that a joy past joy calls out on me, It were a grief so brief to part with thee Farewell.
CAPULET  Things have falln out, sir, so unluckily, That we have had no time to move our daughter Look you, she lovd her kinsman Tybalt dearly, And so did I well, we were born to die. Tis very late, shell not come down to night I promise you, but for your company, I would have been a-bed an hour ago.
PARIS  These times of woe afford no time to woo. Madam, good-night commend me to your daughter.
CAPULET  Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender Of my childs love I think she will be ruld In all respects by me, nay, more, I doubt it not. Wife go you to her ere you go to bed, Acquaint her here of my son Paris love, And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next— But, soft what day is this?
PARIS  Monday, my lord.
CAPULET  Monday ha, ha Well, Wednesday is too soon, O Thursday let it be o Thursday, tell her, She shall be married to this noble earl. Will you be ready? do you like this haste? Well keep no great ado, a friend or two, For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late, It may be thought we held him carelessly, Being our kinsman, if we revel much. Therefore well have some half a dozen friends, And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?
PARIS  My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow.
CAPULET  Well, get you gone o Thursday be it then. Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed, Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day. Farewell, my lord. Light to my chamber, ho Afore me it is so very very late, That we may call it early by and by. Good-night.
JULIET  Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That piercd the fearful hollow of thine ear, Nightly she sings on you pomegranate tree Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
ROMEO  It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east Nights candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
JULIET  Yon light is not daylight, I know it, I It is some meteor that the sun exhales, To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, And light thee on thy way to Mantua Therefore stay yet, thou needst not to be gone.
ROMEO  Let me be taen, let me be put to death, I am content, so thou wilt have it so. Ill say yon grey is not the mornings eye, Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthias brow, Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads I have more care to stay than will to go Come, death, and welcome Juliet wills it so. How ist, my soul? lets talk, it is not day.
JULIET  It is, it is, hie hence, be gone, away It is the lark that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. Some say the lark makes sweet division, This doth not so, for she divideth us Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes, O now I would they had changd voices too, Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, Hunting thee hence with hunts-up to the day. O now be gone, more light and light it grows.
ROMEO  More light and light, more dark and dark our woes.
NURSE  Madam
JULIET  Nurse
NURSE  Your lady mother is coming to your chamber The day is broke, be wary, look about.
JULIET  Then, window, let day in, and let life out.
ROMEO  Farewell, farewell one kiss, and Ill descend.
JULIET  Art thou gone so? my lord, my love, my friend I must hear from thee every day in the hour, For in a minute there are many days O by this count I shall be much in years Ere I again behold my Romeo.
ROMEO  Farewell I will omit no opportunity That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.
JULIET  O thinkst thou we shall ever meet again?
ROMEO  I doubt it not, and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our time to come.
JULIET  O God I have an ill-divining soul Methinks I see thee, now thou art so low, As one dead in the bottom of a tomb Either my eyesight fails, or thou lookst pale.
ROMEO  And trust me, love, in my eye so do you Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu adieu
JULIET  O fortune, fortune all men call thee fickle If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him That is renownd for faith? Be fickle, fortune, For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long, But send him back.
JULIET  Who ist that calls? is it my lady mother? Is she not down so late, or up so early? What unaccustomd cause procures her hither?
JULIET  Madam, I am not well.
JULIET  Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.
JULIET  Feeling so the loss, I cannot choose but ever weep the friend.
JULIET  What villain, madam?
Aside.  God pardon him I do, with all my heart, And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart.
JULIET  Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands. Would none but I might venge my cousins death
JULIET  Indeed, I never shall be satisfied With Romeo, till I behold him—dead— Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vexd Madam, if you could find out but a man To bear a poison, I would temper it, That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof, Soon sleep in quiet. O how my heart abhors To hear him namd, and cannot come to him, To wreak the love I bore my cousin Tybalt Upon his body that hath slaughterd him.
JULIET  And joy comes well in such a needy time What are they, I beseech your ladyship?
JULIET  Madam, in happy time, what day is that?
JULIET  Now, by Saint Peters church, and Peter too, He shall not make me there a joyful bride. I wonder at this haste, that I must wed Ere he that should be husband comes to woo. I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam, I will not marry yet, and, when I do, I swear, It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate, Rather than Paris. These are news indeed
CAPULET  When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew, But for the sunset of my brothers son It rains downright. How now a conduit, girl? what still in tears? Evermore showering? In one little body Thou counterfeitst a bark, a sea, a wind, For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea, Do ebb and flow with tears, the bark thy body is, Sailing in this salt flood, the winds, thy sighs, Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them, Without a sudden calm, will overset Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife Have you deliverd to her our decree?
CAPULET  Soft take me with you, take me with you, wife. How will she none? doth she not give us thanks? Is she not proud? doth she not count her blessd, Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?
JULIET  Not proud, you have, but thankful, that you have Proud can I never be of what I hate, But thankful even for hate, that is meant love.
CAPULET  How now how now, chop-logic What is this? Proud, and I thank you, and I thank you not, And yet not proud, mistress minion, you, Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, But fettle your fine joints gainst Thursday next, To go with Paris to Saint Peters church, Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. Out, you green-sickness carrion out, you baggage You tallow face
JULIET  Good father, I beseech you on my knees, Hear me with patience but to speak a word.
CAPULET  Hang thee, young baggage disobedient wretch I tell thee what, get thee to church o Thursday, Or never after look me in the face. Speak not, reply not, do not answer me, My fingers itch.—Wife, we scarce thought us blessd That God had lent us but this only child, But now I see this one is one too much, And that we have a curse in having her. Out on her, hilding
NURSE  God in heaven bless her You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.
CAPULET  And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue, Good prudence, smatter with your gossips, go.
NURSE  I speak no treason.
CAPULET  O God ye good den.
NURSE  May not one speak?
CAPULET  Peace, you mumbling fool, Utter your gravity oer a gossips bowl, For here we need it not.
CAPULET  Gods bread it makes me mad. Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play, Alone, in company, still my care hath been To have her matchd, and having now provided A gentleman of noble parentage, Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly traind, Stuffd, as they say, with honourable parts, Proportiond as ones thought would wish a man, And then to have a wretched puling fool, A whining mammet, in her fortunes tender, To answer Ill not wed, I cannot love, I am too young, I pray you, pardon me, But, an you will not wed, Ill pardon you Graze where you will, you shall not house with me Look tot, think ont, I do not use to jest. Thursday is near, lay hand on heart, advise. An you be mine, Ill give you to my friend, An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the streets, For, by my soul, Ill neer acknowledge thee, Nor what is mine shall never do thee good. Trust tot, bethink you, Ill not be forsworn.
JULIET  Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, That sees into the bottom of my grief? O sweet my mother, cast me not away Delay this marriage for a month, a week, Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.
JULIET  O God O nurse how shall this be prevented? My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven, How shall that faith return again to earth, Unless that husband send it me from heaven By leaving earth? comfort me, counsel me. Alack, alack that heaven should practise stratagems Upon so soft a subject as myself What sayst thou? hast thou not a word of joy? Some comfort, nurse?
NURSE  Faith, here it is. Romeo Is banished, and all the world to nothing That he dares neer come back to challenge you, Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth. Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, I think it best you married with the county. O hes a lovely gentleman, Romeos a dishclout to him an eagle, madam, Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart, I think you are happy in this second match, For it excels your first or if it did not, Your first is dead, or twere as good he were, As living here and you no use of him.
JULIET  Speakest thou from thy heart?
NURSE  And from my soul too, Or else beshrew them both.
JULIET  Amen
NURSE  What
JULIET  Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. Go in, and tell my lady I am gone, Having displeasd my father, to Laurence cell, To make confession and to be absolvd.
NURSE  Marry, I will, and this is wisely done.
JULIET  Ancient damnation O most wicked fiend Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn, Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue Which she hath praisd him with above compare So many thousand times? Go, counsellor, Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain. Ill to the friar, to know his remedy If all else fail, myself have power to die.
PARIS  My father Capulet will have it so, And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.
PARIS  Immoderately she weeps for Tybalts death, And therefore have I little talkd of love, For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous That she doth give her sorrow so much sway, And in his wisdom hastes our marriage To stop the inundation of her tears, Which, too much minded by herself alone, May be put from her by society. Now do you know the reason of this haste.
Aside.  Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell.
PARIS  Happily met, my lady and my wife
JULIET  That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.
PARIS  That may be must be, love, on Thursday next.
JULIET  What must be shall be.
PARIS  Come you to make confession to this father?
JULIET  To answer that, I should confess to you.
PARIS  Do not deny to him that you love me.
JULIET  I will confess to you that I love him.
PARIS  So will ye, I am sure, that you love me.
JULIET  If I do so, it will be of more price, Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.
PARIS  Poor soul, thy face is much abusd with tears.
JULIET  The tears have got small victory by that, For it was bad enough before their spite.
PARIS  Thou wrongst it, more than tears, with that report.
JULIET  That is no slander, sir, which is a truth, And what I spake, I spake it to my face.
PARIS  Thy face is mine, and thou hast slanderd it.
JULIET  It may be so, for it is not mine own. Are you at leisure, holy father, now, Or shall I come to you at evening mass?
PARIS  God shield, I should disturb devotion Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse you Till then, adieu, and keep this holy kiss.
JULIET  O shut the door and when thou hast done so, Come weep with me, past hope, past cure, past help
JULIET  Tell me not, friar, that thou hearst of this, Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help, Do thou but call my resolution wise, And with this knife Ill help it presently, God joind my heart and Romeos, thou our hands, And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seald, Shall be the label to another deed, Or my true heart with treacherous revolt Turn to another, this shall slay them both. Therefore, out of thy long-experiencd time, Give me some present counsel, or behold, Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that Which the commission of thy years and art Could to no issue of true honour bring. Be not so long to speak, I long to die, If what thou speakst speak not of remedy.
JULIET  O bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, From off the battlements of yonder tower, Or walk in thievish ways, or bid me lurk Where serpents are, chain me with roaring bears, Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house, Oer-coverd quite with dead mens rattling bones, With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless skulls, Or bid me go into a new-made grave And hide me with a dead man in his shroud, Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble, And I will do it without fear or doubt, To live an unstaind wife to my sweet love.
JULIET  Give me, give me O tell me not of fear
JULIET  Love, give me strength and strength shall help afford. Farewell, dear father
CAPULET  So many guests invite as here are writ. Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks.
SERVANT2  You shall have none ill, sir, for Ill try if they can lick their fingers.
CAPULET  How canst thou try them so?
SERVANT2  Marry, sir, tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers therefore he that cannot lick his fingers goes not with me.
CAPULET  Go, be gone. We shall be much unfurnishd for this time. What is my daughter gone to Friar Laurence?
NURSE  Ay, forsooth.
CAPULET  Well, he may chance to do some good on her A peevish self-willd harlotry it is.
NURSE  See where she comes from shrift with merry look.
CAPULET  How now, my headstrong where have you been gadding?
JULIET  Where I have learnd me to repent the sin Of disobedient opposition To you and your behests, and am enjoind By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here, And beg your pardon. Pardon, I beseech you Henceforward I am ever ruld by you.
CAPULET  Send for the county, go tell him of this Ill have this knot knit up to-morrow morning.
JULIET  I met the youthful lord at Laurence cell, And gave him what becomed love I might, Not stepping oer the bounds of modesty.
CAPULET  Why, Im glad ont, this is well stand up This is ast should be. Let me see the county, Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither. Now, afore God this reverend holy friar, All our whole city is much bound to him.
JULIET  Nurse, will you go with me into my closet, To help me sort such needful ornaments As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow?
CAPULET  Go, nurse, go with her. Well to church to-morrow.
CAPULET  Tush I will stir about, And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her, Ill not to bed to-night, let me alone, Ill play the housewife for this once. What, ho They are all forth well, I will walk myself To County Paris, to prepare him up Against to-morrow. My heart is wondrous light, Since this same wayward girl is so reclaimd.
JULIET  Ay, those attires are best, but, gentle nurse, I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night, For I have need of many orisons To move the heavens to smile upon my state, Which, well thou knowst, is cross and full of sin.
JULIET  No, madam, we have culld such necessaries As are behoveful for our state to-morrow So please you, let me now be left alone, And let the nurse this night sit up with you, For, I am sure, you have your hands full all In this so sudden business.
NURSE  They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.
CAPULET  Come, stir, stir, stir the second cock hath crowd, The curfew bell hath rung, tis three oclock Look to the bakd meats, good Angelica Spare not for cost.
NURSE  Go, go, you cot-quean, go, Get you to bed, faith, youll be sick to-morrow For this nights watching.
CAPULET  No, not a whit, what I have watchd ere now All night for lesser cause, and neer been sick.
SERVANT  Things for the cook, sir, but I know not what.
CAPULET  Call Peter, he will show thee where they are.
SERVANT2  I have a head, sir, that will find out logs, And never trouble Peter for the matter.
NURSE  Mistress what, mistress Juliet fast, I warrant her, she Why, lamb why, lady fie, you slug-a-bed Why, love, I say madam sweet-heart why, bride What not a word? you take your pennyworths now Sleep for a week, for the next night, I warrant, The County Paris hath set up his rest, That you shall rest but little. God forgive me, Marry, and amen, how sound is she asleep I needs must wake her. Madam, madam, madam Ay, let the county take you in your bed, Hell fright you up, i faith. Will it not be? What, dressd and in your clothes and down again I must needs wake you. Lady lady lady Alas alas Help help my ladys dead O well-a-day, that ever I was born. Some aqua-vitæ, ho My lord my lady
NURSE  O lamentable day
NURSE  Look, look O heavy day
CAPULET  For shame bring Juliet forth, her lord is come.
NURSE  Shes dead, deceasd, shes dead, alack the day
CAPULET  Ha let me see her. Out, alas shes cold, Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff, Life and these lips have long been separated Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.
NURSE  O lamentable day
CAPULET  Death, that hath taen her hence to make me wail, Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak.
CAPULET  Ready to go, but never to return. O son the night before thy wedding-day Hath Death lain with thy wife. There she lies, Flower as she was, deflowered by him. Death is my son-in-law, Death is my heir, My daughter he hath wedded I will die, And leave him all, life, living, all is Deaths
PARIS  Have I thought long to see this mornings face, And doth it give me such a sight as this?
NURSE  O woe O woeful, woeful, woeful day Most lamentable day, most woeful day, That ever, ever, I did yet behold O day O day O day O hateful day Never was seen so black a day as this O woeful day, O woeful day
PARIS  Beguild, divorced, wronged, spited, slain Most detestable death, by thee beguild, By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown O love O life not life, but love in death
CAPULET  Despisd, distressed, hated, martyrd, killd Uncomfortable time, why camst thou now To murder, murder our solemnity? O child O child my soul, and not my child Dead art thou dead alack, my child is dead, And with my child my joys are buried
CAPULET  All things that we ordained festival, Turn from their office to black funeral, Our instruments to melancholy bells, Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast, Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change, Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse, And all things change them to the contrary.
MUSICIAN1  Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be gone.
NURSE  Honest good fellows, ah put up, put up, for, well you know, this is a pitiful case.
MUSICIAN1  Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.
PETER  Musicians O musicians, Hearts ease, Hearts ease O an ye will have me live, play Hearts ease.
MUSICIAN1  Why Hearts ease?
PETER  O musicians, because my heart itself plays My heart is full of woe, O play me some merry dump, to comfort me.
MUSICIAN2  Not a dump we, tis no time to play now.
PETER  You will not then?
MUSICIANS  No.
PETER  I will then give it you soundly.
MUSICIAN1  What will you give us?
PETER  No money, on my faith but the gleek, I will give you the minstrel.
MUSICIAN1  Then will I give you the serving-creature.
PETER  Then will I lay the serving-creatures dagger on your pate, I will carry no crotchets Ill re you, Ill fa you. Do you note me?
MUSICIAN1  An you re us, and fa us, you note us.
MUSICIAN2  Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit.
PETER  Then have at you with my wit I will dry-beat you with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger. Answer me like men When griping grief the heart doth wound, And doleful dumps the mind oppress, Then music with her silver sound— Why silver sound? why music with her silver sound? What say you, Simon Catling?
MUSICIAN1  Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.
PETER  Pretty What say you, Hugh Rebeck?
MUSICIAN2  I say silver sound, because musicians sound for silver.
PETER  Pretty too What say you, James Soundpost?
MUSICIAN3  Faith, I know not what to say.
PETER  O I cry you mercy, you are the singer, I will say for you. It is, music with her silver sound, because musicians have no gold for sounding Then music with her silver sound With speedy help doth lend redress.
MUSICIAN1  What a pestilent knave is this same
MUSICIAN2  Hang him, Jack Come, well in here, tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner.
BALTHASAR  Then she is well, and nothing can be ill, Her body sleeps in Capels monument, And her immortal part with angels lives. I saw her laid low in her kindreds vault, And presently took post to tell it you. O pardon me for bringing these ill news, Since you did leave it for my office, sir.
ROMEO  Is it even so? then I defy you, stars Thou knowst my lodging get me ink and paper, And hire post-horses, I will hence to-night.
BALTHASAR  I do beseech you, sir, have patience Your looks are pale and wild, and do import Some misadventure.
ROMEO  Tush, thou art deceivd, Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do. Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?
BALTHASAR  No, my good lord.
ROMEO  No matter, get thee gone, And hire those horses Ill be with thee straight. Well, Juliet, I will he with thee to-night. Lets see for means O mischief thou art swift To enter in the thoughts of desperate men. I do remember an apothecary, And hereabouts he dwells, which late I noted In tatterd weeds, with overwhelming brows, Culling of simples, meagre were his looks, Sharp misery had worn him to the bones And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, An alligator stuffd, and other skins Of ill-shapd fishes, and about his shelves A beggarly account of empty boxes, Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds, Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses, Were thinly scatterd, to make up a show. Noting this penury, to myself I said An if a man did need a poison now, Whose sale is present death in Mantua, Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him. O this same thought did but fore-run my need, And this same needy man must sell it me. As I remember, this should be the house Being holiday, the beggars shop is shut. What, ho apothecary
APOTHECARY  Who calls so loud?
ROMEO  Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor, Hold, there is forty ducats, let me have A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear As will disperse itself through all the veins That the life-weary taker may fall dead, And that the trunk may be dischargd of breath As violently as hasty powder fird Doth hurry from the fatal cannons womb.
APOTHECARY  Such mortal drugs I have, but Mantuas law Is death to any he that utters them.
ROMEO  Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness, And fearst to die? famine is in thy cheeks, Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes, Contempt and beggary hang upon thy back, The world is not thy friend nor the worlds law The world affords no law to make thee rich, Then be not poor, but break it, and take this.
APOTHECARY  My poverty, but not my will, consents.
ROMEO  I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.
APOTHECARY  Put this in any liquid thing you will, And drink it off, and, if you had the strength Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight.
ROMEO  There is thy gold, worse poison to mens souls, Doing more murders in this loathsome world Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none. Farewell, buy food, and get thyself in flesh. Come, cordial and not poison, go with me To Juliets grave, for there must I use thee.
PARIS  Give me thy torch, boy hence, and stand aloof, Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along, Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread, Being loose, unfirm with digging up of graves, But thou shalt hear it whistle then to me, As signal that thou hearst something approach. Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.
Aside.  Here in the churchyard, yet I will adventure.
ROMEO  Give me that mattock, and the wrenching iron. Hold, take this letter, early in the morning See thou deliver it to my lord and father. Give me the light upon thy life I charge thee, Whateer thou hearst or seest, stand all aloof, And do not interrupt me in my course. Why I descend into this bed of death, Is partly, to behold my ladys face, But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger A precious ring, a ring that I must use In dear employment therefore hence, be gone But, if thou, jealous, dost return to pry In what I further shall intend to do, By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint, And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs. The time and my intents are savage-wild, More fierce and more inexorable far Than empty tigers or the roaring sea.
BALTHASAR  I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.
ROMEO  So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that Live, and be prosperous, and farewell, good fellow.
Aside.  His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt.
ROMEO  I must, indeed, and therefore came I hither. Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man, Fly hence and leave me think upon these gone, Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth, Put not another sin upon my head By urging me to fury O be gone By heaven, I love thee better than myself. For I come hither armd against myself Stay not, be gone, live, and hereafter say A madmans mercy bade thee run away.
PARIS  I do defy thy conjurations, And apprehend thee for a felon here.
ROMEO  Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy
PAGE  O Lord they fight I will go call the watch.
Falls.  Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.
BALTHASAR  Heres one, a friend, and one that knows you well.
BALTHASAR  It doth so, holy sir, and theres my master, One that you love.
BALTHASAR  Romeo.
BALTHASAR  Full half an hour.
BALTHASAR  I dare not, sir. My master knows not but I am gone hence, And fearfully did menace me with death If I did stay to look on his intents.
BALTHASAR  As I did sleep under this yew-tree here, I dreamt my master and another fought, And that my master slew him.
JULIET  O, comfortable friar where is my lord? I do remember well where I should be, And there I am. Where is my Romeo?
PAGE  This is the place, there where the torch doth burn.
WATCH1  The ground is bloody, search about the churchyard. Go, some of you, whoeer you find, attach. Pitiful sight here lies the county slain, And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead, Who here hath lain these two days buried. Go, tell the prince, run to the Capulets, Raise up the Montagues, some others search We see the ground whereon these woes do lie, But the true ground of all these piteous woes We cannot without circumstance descry.
WATCH2  Heres Romeos man, we found him in the churchyard.
WATCH1  Hold him in safety, till the prince come hither.
WATCH3  Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs, and weeps, We took this mattock and this spade from him, As he was coming from this churchyard side.
WATCH1  A great suspicion stay the friar too.
PRINCE  What misadventure is so early up, That calls our person from our mornings rest?
CAPULET  What should it be, that they so shriek abroad?
PRINCE  What fear is this which startles in our ears?
WATCH1  Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain, And Romeo dead, and Juliet, dead before, Warm and new killd.
PRINCE  Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes.
WATCH1  Here is a friar, and slaughterd Romeos man, With instruments upon them, fit to open These dead mens tombs.
CAPULET  O, heaven—O wife look how our daughter bleeds This dagger hath mistaen—for, lo, his house Is empty on the back of Montague— And is mis-sheathed in my daughters bosom.
PRINCE  Come, Montague for thou art early up, To see thy son and heir more early down.
MONTAGUE  Alas my liege, my wife is dead to-night, Grief of my sons exile hath stoppd her breath. What further woe conspires against mine age?
PRINCE  Look, and thou shalt see.
MONTAGUE  O thou untaught what manners is in this, To press before thy father to a grave?
PRINCE  Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while, Till we can clear these ambiguities, And know their spring, their head, their true descent, And then will I be general of your woes, And lead you even to death meantime forbear, And let mischance be slave to patience. Bring forth the parties of suspicion.
PRINCE  Then say at once what thou dost know in this.
PRINCE  We still have known thee for a holy man. Wheres Romeos man? what can he say in this?
BALTHASAR  I brought my master news of Juliets death, And then in post he came from Mantua To this same place, to this same monument. This letter he early bid me give his father, And threatend me with death, going in the vault, If I departed not and left him there.
PRINCE  Give me the letter, I will look on it. Where is the countys page that raisd the watch? Sirrah, what made your master in this place?
PAGE  He came with flowers to strew his ladys grave, And bid me stand aloof, and so I did, Anon, comes one with light to ope the tomb, And by and by my master drew on him, And then I ran away to call the watch.
PRINCE  This letter doth make good the friars words, Their course of love, the tidings of her death And here he writes that he did buy a poison Of a poor pothecary, and therewithal Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet. Where be these enemies?—Capulet Montague See what a scourge is laid upon your hate, That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love, And I, for winking at your discords too, Have lost a brace of kinsmen all are punishd.
CAPULET  O brother Montague give me thy hand This is my daughters jointure, for no more Can I demand.
MONTAGUE  But I can give thee more, For I will raise her statue in pure gold, That while Verona by that name is known. There shall no figure at such rate be set As that of true and faithful Juliet.
CAPULET  As rich shall Romeo by his lady lie, Poor sacrifices of our enmity
PRINCE  A glooming peace this morning with it brings, The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things Some shall be pardond, and some punished For never was a story of more woe Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
POET  Good day, sir.
PAINTER  I am glad youre well.
POET  I have not seen you long. How goes the world?
PAINTER  It wears, sir, as it grows.
POET  Ay, thats well known, But what particular rarity? what strange, Which manifold record not matches? See, Magic of bounty all these spirits thy power Hath conjurd to attend. I know the merchant.
PAINTER  I know them both, th others a jeweller.
MERCHANT  O tis a worthy lord.
JEW  Nay, thats most fixd.
MERCHANT  A most incomparable man, breathd, as it were, To an untirable and continuate goodness He passes.
JEW  I have a jewel here—
MERCHANT  O pray, lets see t for the Lord Timon, sir?
JEW  If he will touch the estimate but, for that—
POET  When we for recompense have praisd the vile, It stains the glory in that happy verse Which aptly sings the good.
JEW  And rich here is a water, look ye.
PAINTER  You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication To the great lord.
POET  A thing slippd idly from me. Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes From whence tis nourishd the fire i the flint Shows not till it be struck, our gentle flame Provokes itself, and, like the current flies Each bound it chafes. What have you there?
PAINTER  A picture, sir. When comes your book forth?
POET  Upon the heels of my presentment, sir. Lets see your piece.
PAINTER  Tis a good piece.
POET  So tis this comes off well and excellent.
PAINTER  Indifferent.
POET  Admirable How this grace Speaks his own standing what a mental power This eye shoots forth how big imagination Moves in this lip to the dumbness of the gesture One might interpret.
PAINTER  It is a pretty mocking of the life. Here is a touch, is t good?
POET  Ill say of it, It tutors nature artificial strife Lives in these touches, livelier than life.
PAINTER  How this lord is followd
POET  The senators of Athens happy man
PAINTER  Look, more
POET  You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors. I have, in this rough work, shapd out a man, Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug With amplest entertainment my free drift Halts not particularly, but moves itself In a wide sea of wax no levelld malice Infects one comma in the course I hold, But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on, Leaving no tract behind.
PAINTER  How shall I understand you?
POET  I will unbolt to you. You see how all conditions, how all minds— As well of glib and slippery creatures as Of grave and austere quality—tender down Their services to Lord Timon his large fortune, Upon his good and gracious nature hanging, Subdues and properties to his love and tendance All sorts of hearts, yea, from the glass-facd flatterer To Apemantus, that few things loves better Than to abhor himself even he drops down The knee before him and returns in peace Most rich in Timons nod.
PAINTER  I saw them speak together.
POET  Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill Feignd Fortune to be thrond the base o the mount Is rankd with all deserts, all kind of natures, That labour on the bosom of this sphere To propagate their states amongst them all, Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fixd, One do I personate of Lord Timons frame, Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her, Whose present grace to present slaves and servants Translates his rivals.
PAINTER  Tis conceivd to scope. This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, With one man beckond from the rest below, Bowing his head against the steepy mount To climb his happiness, would be well expressd In our condition.
POET  Nay, sir, but hear me on. All those which were his fellows but of late, Some better than his value, on the moment Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance, Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear, Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him Drink the free air.
PAINTER  Ay, marry, what of these?
POET  When Fortune in her shift and change of mood Spurns down her late belovd, all his dependants Which labourd after him to the mountains top Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, Not one accompanying his declining foot.
PAINTER  Tis common A thousand moral paintings I can show That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortunes More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well To show Lord Timon that mean eyes have seen The foot above the head.
TIMON  Imprisond is he, say you?
MESSENGER  Ay, my good lord five talents is his debt, His means most short, his creditors most strait Your honourable letter he desires To those have shut him up, which, failing, Periods his comfort.
TIMON  Noble Ventidius Well, I am not of that feather to shake off My friend when he must need me. I do know him A gentleman that well deserves a help, Which he shall have Ill pay the debt and free him.
MESSENGER  Your lordship ever binds him.
TIMON  Commend me to him. I will send his ransom, And being enfranchisd, bid him come to me. Tis not enough to help the feeble up, But to support him after. Fare you well.
MESSENGER  All happiness to your honour.
TIMON  Freely, good father.
TIMON  I have so what of him?
TIMON  Attends be here or no? Lucilius
LUCIUS  Here, at your lordships service.
TIMON  Well, what further?
TIMON  The man is honest.
TIMON  Does she love him?
LUCIUS  Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it.
TIMON  How shall she be endowd, If she be mated with an equal husband?
TIMON  This gentleman of mine hath servd me long To build his fortune I will strain a little, For tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter, What you bestow, in him Ill counterpoise, And make him weigh with her.
TIMON  My hand to thee, mine honour on my promise.
LUCIUS  Humbly I thank your lordship never may That state or fortune fall into my keeping Which is not owd to you
POET  Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship
TIMON  I thank you, you shall hear from me anon Go not away. What have you there, my friend?
PAINTER  A piece of painting, which I do beseech Your lordship to accept.
TIMON  Painting is welcome. The painting is almost the natural man, For since dishonour traffics with mans nature, He is but outside these pencild figures are Even such as they give out. I like your work, And you shall find I like it wait attendance Till you hear further from me.
PAINTER  The gods preserve you
TIMON  Well fare you, gentleman give me your hand, We must needs dine together. Sir, your jewel Hath sufferd under praise.
JEW  What, my lord dispraise?
TIMON  A mere satiety of commendations. If I should pay you for t as tis extolld, It would unclew me quite.
JEW  My lord, tis rated As those which sell would give but you well know, Things of like value, differing in the owners, Are prized by their masters. Believe t, dear lord, You mend the jewel by the wearing it.
TIMON  Well mockd.
MERCHANT  No, my good lord, he speaks the common tongue, Which all men speak with him.
TIMON  Look, who comes here. Will you be chid?
JEW  Well bear, with your lordship.
MERCHANT  Hell spare none.
TIMON  Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus
APEMANTUS  Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow, When thou art Timons dog, and these knaves honest.
TIMON  Why dost thou call them knaves? thou knowst them not.
APEMANTUS  Are they not Athenians?
TIMON  Yes.
APEMANTUS  Then I repent not.
JEW  You know me, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS  Thou knowst I do, I calld thee by thy name.
TIMON  Thou art proud, Apemantus.
APEMANTUS  Of nothing so much as that I am not like Timon.
TIMON  Whither art going?
APEMANTUS  To knock out an honest Athenians brains.
TIMON  Thats a deed thoult die for.
APEMANTUS  Right, if doing nothing be death by the law.
TIMON  How likest thou this picture, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS  The best, for the innocence.
TIMON  Wrought he not well that painted it?
APEMANTUS  He wrought better that made the painter, and yet hes but a filthy piece of work.
PAINTER  Youre a dog.
APEMANTUS  Thy mothers of my generation whats she, if I be a dog?
TIMON  Wilt dine with me, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS  No, I eat not lords.
TIMON  An thou shouldst, thoudst anger ladies.
APEMANTUS  O they eat lords, so they come by great bellies.
TIMON  Thats a lascivious apprehension.
APEMANTUS  So thou apprehendest it, take it for thy labour.
TIMON  How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS  Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not cost a man a doit.
TIMON  What dost thou think tis worth?
APEMANTUS  Not worth my thinking. How now, poet
POET  How now, philosopher
APEMANTUS  Thou liest.
POET  Art not one?
APEMANTUS  Yes.
POET  Then I lie not.
APEMANTUS  Art not a poet?
POET  Yes.
APEMANTUS  Then thou liest look in thy last work, where thou hast feigned him a worthy fellow.
POET  Thats not feigned, he is so.
APEMANTUS  Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy labour he that loves to be flattered is worthy o the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord
TIMON  What wouldst do then, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS  Even as Apemantus does now, hate a lord with my heart.
TIMON  What, thyself?
APEMANTUS  Ay.
TIMON  Wherefore?
APEMANTUS  That I had no angry wit to be a lord. Art not thou a merchant?
MERCHANT  Ay, Apemantus.
APEMANTUS  Traffic confound thee, if the gods will not
MERCHANT  If traffic do it, the gods do it.
APEMANTUS  Traffics thy god, and thy god confound thee
TIMON  What trumpets that?
SERVILIUS  Tis Alcihiades, and some twenty horse, All of companionship.
TIMON  Pray, entertain them, give them guide to us. You must needs dine with me. Go not you hence Till I have thanked you, when dinners done, Show me this piece. I am joyful of your sights.
APEMANTUS  So, so, there Aches contract and starve your supple joints That there should be small love mongst these sweet knaves, And all this courtesy The strain of mans bred out Into baboon and monkey.
ALCIBIADES  Sir, you have savd my longing, and I feed Most hungerly on your sight.
TIMON  Right welcome, sir Ere we depart, well share a bounteous time In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in.
LORD1  What time oday ist, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS  Time to be honest.
LORD1  That time serves still.
APEMANTUS  The more accursed thou, that still omittst it.
LORD2  Thou art going to Lord Timons feast?
APEMANTUS  Ay, to see meat fill khaves and wine heat fools.
LORD2  Fare thee well, fare thee well.
APEMANTUS  Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice.
LORD2  Why, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS  Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to give thee none.
LORD1  Hang thyself
APEMANTUS  No, I will do nothing at thy bidding make thy requests to thy friend.
LORD2  Away, unpeaceable dog or Ill spurn thee hence.
APEMANTUS  I will fly, like a dog, the heels of an ass.
LORD1  Hes opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in, And taste Lord Timons bounty? he outgoes The very heart of kindness.
LORD2  He pours it out, Plutus, the god of gold, Is but his steward no meed but he repays Sevenfold above itself, no gift to him But breeds the giver a return exceeding All use of quittance.
LORD1  The noblest mind he carries That ever governd man.
LORD2  Long may he live in fortunes Shall we in?
LORD1  Ill keep you company.
VENTIDIUS  Most honourd Timon, It hath pleasd the gods to remember my fathers age, And call him to long peace. He is gone happy, and has left me rich Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound To your free heart, I do return those talents, Doubled with thanks and service, from whose help I derivd liberty.
TIMON  O by no means, Honest Ventidius, you mistake my love, I gave it freely ever, and theres none Can truly say he gives, if he receives If our betters play at that game, we must not dare To imitate them, faults that are rich are fair.
VENTIDIUS  A noble spirit.
TIMON  Nay, my lords, ceremony was but devisd at first To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes, Recanting goodness, sorry ere tis shown, But where there is true friendship, there needs none. Pray, sit, more welcome are ye to my fortunes Than my fortunes to me.
LORD1  My lord, we always have confessd it.
APEMANTUS  Ho, ho confessd it, hangd it, have you not?
TIMON  O Apemantus, you are welcome.
APEMANTUS  No, You shall not make me welcome I come to have thee thrust me out of doors.
TIMON  Fie thourt a churl, yeve got a humour there Does not become a man, tis much to blame. They say, my lords, Ira furor brevis est, But yond man is ever angry. Go, let him have a table by himself, For he does neither affect company, Nor is he fit for it, indeed.
APEMANTUS  Let me stay at thine apperil, Timon I come to observe, I give thee warning ont.
TIMON  I take no heed of thee, thourt an Athenian, therefore, welcome. I myself would have no power, prithee, let my meat make thee silent.
APEMANTUS  I scorn thy meat, twould choke me, for I should Neer flatter thee. O you gods what a number Of men eat Timon, and he sees them not. It grieves me to see so many dip their meat In one mans blood, and all the madness is, He cheers them up too. I wonder men dare trust themselves with men Methinks they should invite them without knives, Good for their meat, and safer for their lives. Theres much example fort, the fellow that Sits next him now, parts bread with him, and pledges The breath of him in a divided draught, Is the readiest man to kill him t has been provd. If I were a huge man, I should fear to drink at meals, Lest they should spy my wind-pipes dangerous notes Great men should drink with harness on their throats.
TIMON  My lord, in heart, and let the health go round.
LORD2  Let it flow this way, my good lord.
TIMON  Captain Alcibiades, your hearts in the field now.
ALCIBIADES  My heart is ever at your service, my lord.
TIMON  You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies than a dinner of friends.
ALCIBIADES  So they were bleeding-new, my lord, theres no meat like em I could wish my best friend at such a feast.
APEMANTUS  Would all those flatterers were thine enemies then, that then thou mightst kill em and bid me to em.
LORD1  Might we but have that happiness, my lord, that you would once use our hearts, whereby we might express some part of our zeals, we should think ourselves for ever perfect.
TIMON  O no doubt, my good friends, but the gods themselves have provided that I shall have much help from you how had you been my friends else? why have you that charitable title from thousands, did not you chiefly belong to my heart? I have told more of you to myself than you can with modesty speak in your own behalf, and thus far I confirm you. O you gods think I, what need we have any friends, if we should neer have need of em? they were the most needless creatures living should we neer have use for em, and would most resemble sweet instruments hung up in cases, that keep their sounds to themselves. Why, I have often wished myself poorer that I might come nearer to you. We are born to do benefits, and what better or properer can we call our own than the riches of our friends? O what a precious comfort tis, to have so many, like brothers, commanding one anothers fortunes. O joy een made away ere it can be born. Mine eyes cannot hold out water, methinks to forget their faults, I drink to you.
APEMANTUS  Thou weepest to make them drink, Timon.
LORD2  Joy had the like conception in our eyes, And, at that instant, like a babe, sprung up.
APEMANTUS  Ho, ho I laugh to think that babe a bastard.
LORD3  I promise you, my lord, you movd me much.
APEMANTUS  Much
TIMON  What means that trump?
SERVILIUS  Please you, my lord, there are certain ladies most desirous of admittance.
TIMON  Ladies? What are their wills?
SERVILIUS  There comes with them a forerunner, my lord, which bears that office, to signify their pleasures.
TIMON  I pray, let them be admitted.
CUPID  Hail to thee, worthy Timon, and to all That of his bounties taste The five best senses Acknowledge thee their patron, and come freely To gratulate thy plenteous bosom. Th ear, Taste, touch, smell, pleasd from thy table rise, They only now come but to feast thine eyes.
TIMON  They are welcome all, let em have kind admittance Music, make their welcome
LORD1  You see, my lord, how ample youre belovd.
APEMANTUS  Hoy-day what a sweep of vanity comes this way They dance they are mad women. Like madness is the glory of this life, As this pomp shows to a little oil and root. We make ourselves fools to disport ourselves, And spend our flatteries to drink those men Upon whose age we void it up again, With poisonous spite and envy. Who lives thats not depraved or depraves? Who dies that bears not one spurn to their graves Of their friends gift? I should fear those that dance before me now Would one day stamp upon me it has been done, Men shut their doors against a setting sun.
TIMON  You have done our pleasures much grace, fair ladies, Set a fair fashion on our entertainment, Which was not half so beautiful and kind, You have added worth unto t and lustre, And entertaind me with mine own device, I am to thank you for t.
LADY1  My lord, you take us even at the best.
APEMANTUS  Faith, for the worst is filthy, and would not hold taking, I doubt me.
TIMON  Ladies, there is an idle banquet Attends you please you to dispose yourselves.
TIMON  Flavius
FLAVIUS  My lord
TIMON  The little casket bring me hither.
Aside.  There is no crossing him in s humour, Else I should tell him well, i faith, I should, When alls spent, hed be crossd then, an he could. Tis pity bounty had not eyes behind, That man might neer be wretched for his mind.
LORD1  Where be our men?
SERVILIUS  Here, my lord, in readiness.
LORD2  Our horses
TIMON  O, my friends I have one word to say to you, Look you, my good lord, I must entreat you, honour me so much As to advance this jewel, accept it and wear it, Kind my lord.
LORD1  I am so far already in your gifts—
ALL  So are we all.
SERVILIUS  My lord, there are certain nobles of the senate Newly alighted, and come to visit you.
TIMON  They are fairly welcome.
FLAVIUS  I beseech your honour, Vouchsafe me a word, it does concern you near.
TIMON  Near why then another time Ill hear thee. I prithee, lets be provided to show them entertainment.
SERVANT2  May it please your honour, Lord Lucius, Out of his free love, hath presented to you Four milk-white horses, trappd in silver.
TIMON  I shall accept them fairly, let the presents Be worthily entertaind.
SERVANT3  Please you, my lord, that honourable gentleman, Lord Lucullus, entreats your company to-morrow to hunt with him, and has sent your honour two brace of greyhounds.
TIMON  Ill hunt with him, and let them be receivd, Not without fair reward.
Aside.  He commands us to provide, and give great gifts, And all out of an empty coffer Nor will he know his purse, or yield me this, To show him what a beggar his heart is, Being of no power to make his wishes good. His promises fly so beyond his state That what he speaks is all in debt, he owes For every word he is so kind that he now Pays interest fort, his lands put to their books. Well, would I were gently put out of office Before I were forcd out Happier he that has no friend to feed Than such as do een enemies exceed. I bleed inwardly for my lord.
TIMON  You do yourselves Much wrong, you bate too much of your own merits Here, my lord, a trifle of our love.
LORD2  With more than common thanks I will receive it.
LORD3  O hes the very soul of bounty.
TIMON  And now I remember, my lord, you gave Good words the other day of a bay courser I rode on it is yours, because you likd it.
LORD3  O I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, in that.
TIMON  You may take my word, my lord, I know no man Can justly praise but what he does affect I weigh my friends affection with mine own, Ill tell you true. Ill call to you.
TIMON  I take all and your several visitations So kind to heart, tis not enough to give, Methinks, I could deal kingdoms to my friends, And neer be weary. Alcibiades, Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich, It comes in charity to thee, for all thy living Is mongst the dead, and all the lands thou hast Lie in a pitchd field.
ALCIBIADES  Ay, defild land, my lord.
LORD1  We are so virtuously bound,—
TIMON  And so Am I to you.
LORD2  So infinitely endeard,—
TIMON  All to you. Lights, more lights
LORD1  The best of happiness, Honour, and fortunes, keep with you, Lord Timon
TIMON  Ready for his friends.
APEMANTUS  What a coils here Serving of becks and jutting out of bums I doubt whether their legs be worth the sums That are given for em. Friendships full of dregs Methinks, false hearts should never have sound legs. Thus honest fools lay out their wealth on curtsies.
TIMON  Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen, I would be good to thee.
APEMANTUS  No, Ill nothing, for if I should be bribed too, there would be none left to rail upon thee, and then thou wouldst sin the faster. Thou givest so long, Timon, I fear me thou wilt give away thyself in paper shortly what need these feasts, pomps, and vain-glories?
TIMON  Nay, an you begin to rail on society once, I am sworn not to give regard to you. Farewell, and come with better music.
APEMANTUS  So Thou wilt not hear me now, thou shalt not then, Ill lock thy heaven from thee. O that mens ears should be To counsel deaf, but not to flattery.
SENATOR  And late, five thousand to Varro and to Isidore He owes nine thousand, besides my former sum, Which makes it five-and-twenty. Still in motion Of raging waste It cannot hold, it will not. If I want gold, steal but a beggars dog And give it Timon, why, the dog coins gold, If I would sell my horse, and buy twenty more Better than he, why, give my horse to Timon, Ask nothing, give it him, it foals me, straight, And able horses. No porter at his gate, But rather one that smiles and still invites All that pass by. It cannot hold, no reason Can found his state in safety. Caphis, ho Caphis, I say
CAPHIS  Here, sir, what is your pleasure?
SENATOR  Get on your cloak, and haste you to Lord Timon, Importune him for my moneys, be not ceasd With slight denial, nor then silencd when— Commend me to your master—and the cap Plays in the right hand, thus,—but tell him, My uses cry to me, I must serve my turn Out of mine own, his days and times are past, And my reliances on his fracted dates Have smit my credit I love and honour him, But must not break my back to heal his finger, Immediate are my needs, and my relief Must not be tossd and turnd to me in words, But find supply immediate. Get you gone Put on a most importunate aspect, A visage of demand, for, I do fear, When every feather sticks in his own wing, Lord Timon will be left a naked gull, Which flashes now a phœnix. Get you gone.
CAPHIS  I go, sir.
SENATOR  I go, sir Take the bonds along with you, And have the dates in compt.
CAPHIS  I will, sir.
SENATOR  Go.
FLAVIUS  No care, no stop so senseless of expense, That he will neither know how to maintain it, Nor cease his flow of riot takes no account How things go from him, nor resumes no care Of what is to continue never mind Was to be so unwise, to be so kind. What shall be done? He will not hear, till feel I must be round with him, now he comes from hunting. Fie, fie, fie, fie
CAPHIS  Good even, Varro. What You come for money?
CAPHIS  It is and yours too, Isidore?
CAPHIS  Would we were all dischargd
CAPHIS  Here comes the lord
TIMON  So soon as dinners done, well forth again, My Alcibiades. With me? what is your will?
CAPHIS  My lord, here is a note of certain dues.
TIMON  Dues Whence are you?
CAPHIS  Of Athens here, my lord.
TIMON  Go to my steward.
CAPHIS  Please it your lordship, he hath put me off To the succession of new days this month My master is awakd by great occasion To call upon his own, and humbly prays you That with your other noble parts youll suit In giving him his right.
TIMON  Mine honest friend, I prithee, but repair to me next morning.
CAPHIS  Nay, good my lord,—
TIMON  Contain thyself, good friend.
CAPHIS  If you did know, my lord, my masters wants,—
FLAVIUS  Please you, gentlemen, The time is unagreeable to this business Your importunacy cease till after dinner, That I may make his lordship understand Wherefore you are not paid.
TIMON  Do so, my friends. See them well entertained.
FLAVIUS  Pray, draw near.
CAPHIS  Stay, stay, here comes the fool with Apemantus lets ha some sport with em.
APEMANTUS  Dost dialogue with thy shadow?
APEMANTUS  No, thou standst single, thourt not on him yet.
CAPHIS  Wheres the fool now?
APEMANTUS  He last asked the question. Poor rogues, and usurers men bawds between gold and want
APEMANTUS  Asses.
APEMANTUS  That you ask me what you are, and do not know yourselves. Speak to em, fool.
FOOL  How do you, gentlemen?
FOOL  Shes een setting on water to scald such chickens as you are. Would we could see you at Corinth
APEMANTUS  Good gramercy.
FOOL  Look you, here comes my mistress page.
APEMANTUS  Would I had a rod in my mouth, that I might answer thee profitably.
PAGE  Prithee, Apemantus, read me the superscription of these letters I know not which is which.
APEMANTUS  Canst not read?
PAGE  No.
APEMANTUS  There will little learning die then that day thou art hanged. This is to Lord Timon, this to Alcibiades. Go, thou wast born a bastard, and thoult die a bawd.
PAGE  Thou wast whelped a dog, and thou shalt famish a dogs death. Answer not, I am gone.
APEMANTUS  Een so thou outrunnst grace.— Fool, I will go with you to Lord Timons.
FOOL  Will you leave me there?
APEMANTUS  If Timon stay at home. You three serve three usurers?
APEMANTUS  So would I, as good a trick as ever hangman served thief.
FOOL  Are you three usurers men?
FOOL  I think no usurer but has a fool to his servant my mistress is one, and I am her fool. When men come to borrow of your masters, they approach sadly, and go away merry, but they enter my mistress house merrily, and go away sadly the reason of this?
APEMANTUS  Do it, then, that we may account thee a whoremaster and a knave, which, notwithstanding, thou shalt be no less esteemed.
FOOL  A fool in good clothes, and something like thee. Tis a spirit sometime t appears like a lord, sometime like a lawyer, sometime like a philosopher, with two stones more than s artificial one. He is very often like a knight, and generally in all shapes that man goes up and down in from fourscore to thirteen, this spirit walks in.
FOOL  Nor thou altogether a wise man as much foolery as I have, so much wit thou lackest.
APEMANTUS  That answer might have become Apemantus.
APEMANTUS  Come with me, fool, come.
FOOL  I do not always follow lover, elder brother and woman, sometime the philosopher.
FLAVIUS  Pray you, walk near Ill speak with you anon.
TIMON  You make me marvel wherefore, ere this time, Had you not fully laid my state before me, That I might so have rated my expense As I had leave of means?
FLAVIUS  You would not hear me, At many leisures I proposd.
TIMON  Go to Perchance some single vantages you took, When my indisposition put you back, And that unaptness made your minister, Thus to excuse yourself.
FLAVIUS  O my good lord At many times I brought in my accounts, Laid them before you, you would throw them off, And say you found them in mine honesty. When for some trifling present you have bid me Return so much, I have shook my head, and wept, Yea, gainst the authority of manners, prayd you To hold your hand more close I did endure Not seldom, nor no slight checks, when I have Prompted you in the ebb of your estate And your great flow of debts. My loved lord, Though you hear now, too late, yet nows a time, The greatest of your having lacks a half To pay your present debts.
TIMON  Let all my land be sold.
FLAVIUS  Tis all engagd, some forfeited and gone, And what remains will hardly stop the mouth Of present dues, the future comes apace What shall defend the interim? and at length How goes our reckoning?
TIMON  To Lacedæmon did my land extend.
FLAVIUS  O my good lord the world is but a word, Were it all yours to give it in a breath, How quickly were it gone
TIMON  You tell me true.
FLAVIUS  If you suspect my husbandry or falsehood, Call me before the exactest auditors, And set me on the proof. So the gods bless me, When all our offices have been oppressd With riotous feeders, when our vaults have wept With drunken spilth of wine, when every room Hath blazd with lights and brayd with minstrelsy, I have retird me to a wasteful cock, And set mine eyes at flow.
TIMON  Prithee, no more.
FLAVIUS  Heavens have I said, the bounty of this lord How many prodigal bits have slaves and peasants This night englutted Who is not Timons? What heart, head, sword, force, means, but is Lord Timons? Great Timon, noble, worthy, royal Timon Ah when the means are gone that buy this praise, The breath is gone whereof this praise is made Feast-won, fast-lost, one cloud of winter showers, These flies are couchd.
TIMON  Come, sermon me no further, No villanous bounty yet hath passd my heart, Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given. Why dost thou weep? Canst thou the conscience lack, To think I shall lack friends? Secure thy heart, If I would broach the vessels of my love, And try the argument of hearts by borrowing, Men and mens fortunes could I frankly use As I can bid thee speak.
FLAVIUS  Assurance bless your thoughts
TIMON  And, in some sort, these wants of mine are crownd, That I account them blessings, for by these Shall I try friends. You shall perceive how you Mistake my fortunes, I am wealthy in my friends. Within there Flaminius Servilius
SERVILIUS  My lord my lord
TIMON  I will dispatch you severally you, to Lord Lucius, to Lord Lucullus you I hunted with his honour to-day, you, to Sempronius. Commend me to their loves, and I am proud, say, that my occasions have found time to use them toward a supply of money let the request be fifty talents.
FLAMINIUS  As you have said, my lord.
FLAVIUS  I have been bold,— For that I knew it the most general way,— To them to use your signet and your name, But they do shake their heads, and I am here No richer in return.
TIMON  Ist true? cant be?
FLAVIUS  They answer, in a joint and corporate voice, That now they are at fall, want treasure, cannot Do what they would, are sorry, you are honourable, But yet they could have wishd, they know not, Something hath been amiss, a noble nature May catch a wrench, would all were well, tis pity, And so, intending other serious matters, After distasteful looks and these hard fractions, With certain half-caps and cold-moving nods They froze me into silence.
FLAVIUS  I would I could not think it that thought is bountys foe, Being free itself, it thinks all others so.
SERVILIUS  I have told my lord of you, he is coming down to you.
FLAMINIUS  I thank you, sir.
SERVILIUS  Heres my lord.
FLAMINIUS  His health is well, sir.
LUCULLUS  I am right glad that his health is well, sir. And what hast thou there under thy cloak, pretty Flaminius?
FLAMINIUS  Faith, nothing but an empty box, sir, which, in my lords behalf, I come to entreat your honour to supply, who, having great and instant occasion to use fifty talents, hath sent to your lordship to furnish him, nothing doubting your present assistance therein.
LUCULLUS  La, la, la, la nothing doubting, says he? Alas good lord, a noble gentleman tis, if he would not keep so good a house. Many a time and often I ha dined with him, and told him ont, and come again to supper to him, of purpose to have him spend less, and yet he would embrace no counsel, take no warning by my coming. Every man has his fault, and honesty is his, I ha told him ont, but I could neer get him from it.
SERVILIUS  Please your lordship, here is the wine.
LUCULLUS  Flaminius, I have noted thee always wise. Heres to thee.
FLAMINIUS  Your lordship speaks your pleasure.
FLAMINIUS  Ist possible the world should so much differ, And we alive that livd? Fly, damned baseness, To him that worships thee.
LUCULLUS  Ha now I see thou art a fool, and fit for thy master.
FLAMINIUS  May these add to the number that may scald thee Let molten coin be thy damnation, Thou disease of a friend, and not himself Has friendship such a faint and milky heart It turns in less than two nights? O you gods I feel my masters passion. This slave unto his honour Has my lords meat in him Why should it thrive and turn to nutriment When he is turnd to poison? O may diseases only work upon t, And, when hes sick to death, let not that part of nature Which my lord paid for, be of any power To expel sickness, but prolong his hour.
LUCIUS  Who, the Lord Timon? he is my very good friend, and an honourable gentleman.
STRANGER1  We know him for no less, though we are but strangers to him. But I can tell you one thing, my lord, and which I hear from common rumours now Lord Timons happy hours are done and past, and his estate shrinks from him.
LUCIUS  Fie, no, do not believe it, he cannot want for money.
STRANGER2  But believe you this, my lord, that, not long ago, one of his men was with the Lord Lucullus, to borrow so many talents, nay, urged extremely for t, and showed what necessity belonged to t, and yet was denied.
LUCIUS  How
STRANGER2  I tell you, denied, my lord.
LUCIUS  What a strange case was that now, before the gods, I am ashamed on t. Denied that honourable man there was very little honour showed in t. For my own part, I must needs confess, I have received some small kindnesses from him, as money, plate, jewels, and such like trifles, nothing comparing to his, yet, had he mistook him, and sent to me, I should neer have denied his occasion so many talents.
LUCIUS  Servilius you are kindly met, sir. Fare thee well commend me to thy honourable virtuous lord, my very exquisite friend.
SERVILIUS  May it please your honour, my lord hath sent—
LUCIUS  Ha what has he sent? I am so much endeared to that lord, hes ever sending how shall I thank him, thinkest thou? And what has he sent now?
SERVILIUS  He has only sent his present occasion now, my lord, requesting your lordship to supply his instant use with so many talents.
LUCIUS  I know his lordship is but merry with me, He cannot want fifty-five hundred talents.
SERVILIUS  But in the mean time he wants less, my lord. If his occasion were not virtuous, I should not urge it half so faithfully.
LUCIUS  Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius?
SERVILIUS  Upon my soul, tis true, sir.
LUCIUS  What a wicked beast was I to disfurnish myself against such a good time, when I might ha shown myself honourable how unluckily it happened, that I should purchase the day before for a little part, and undo a great deal of honour Servilius, now, before the gods, I am not able to do, the more beast, I say, I was sending to use Lord Timon myself, these gentlemen can witness, but I would not, for the wealth of Athens, I had done it now. Commend me bountifully to his good lordship, and I hope his honour will conceive the fairest of me, because I have no power to be kind and tell him this from me, I count it one of my greatest afflictions say, that I cannot pleasure such an honourable gentleman. Good Servilius, will you befriend me so far as to use mine own words to him?
SERVILIUS  Yes, sir, I shall.
LUCIUS  Ill look you out a good turn, Servilius. True, as you said, Timon is shrunk indeed, And he thats once denied will hardly speed.
STRANGER1  Do you observe this, Hostilius?
STRANGER2  Ay, too well.
STRANGER1  Why this is the worlds soul, and just of the same piece Is every flatterers spirit. Who can call him His friend that dips in the same dish? for, in My knowing, Timon has been this lords father, And kept his credit with his purse, Supported his estate, nay, Timons money Has paid his men their wages he neer drinks But Timons silver treads upon his lip, And yet, O see the monstrousness of man, When he looks out in an ungrateful shape, He does deny him, in respect of his, What charitable men afford to beggars.
STRANGER3  Religion groans at it.
STRANGER1  For mine own part, I never tasted Timon in my life, Nor came any of his bounties over me, To mark me for his friend, yet, I protest, For his right noble mind, illustrious virtue, And honourable carriage, Had his necessity made use of me, I would have put my wealth into donation, And the best half should have returnd to him, So much I love his heart. But, I perceive, Men must learn now with pity to dispense, For policy sits above conscience.
SEMPRONIUS  Must he needs trouble me in t. Hum bove all others? He might have tried Lord Lucius, or Lucullus, And now Ventidius is wealthy too, Whom he redeemd from prison all these Owe their estates unto him.
SERVILIUS  My lord, They have all been touchd and found base metal, for They have all denied him.
SEMPRONIUS  How have they denied him? Have Ventidius and Lucullus denied him? And does he send to me? Three? hum It shows but little love or judgment in him Must I be his last refuge? His friends, like physicians, Thrice give him over, must I take the cure upon me? He has much disgracd me in t, Im angry at him, That might have known my place. I see no sense for t, But his occasions might have wood me first, For, in my conscience, I was the first man That eer received gift from him And does he think so backwardly of me now, That Ill requite it last? No So it may prove an argument of laughter To the rest, and I mongst lords be thought a fool. I had rather than the worth of thrice the sum, He had sent to me first, but for my minds sake, Id such a courage to do him good. But now return, And with their faint reply this answer join, Who bates mine honour shall not know my coin.
SERVILIUS  Excellent Your lordships a goodly villain. The devil knew not what he did when he made man politic, he crossed himself by t and I cannot think but in the end the villanies of man will set him clear. How fairly this lord strives to appear foul takes virtuous copies to be wicked, like those that under hot ardent zeal would set whole realms on fire Of such a nature is his politic love. This was my lords best hope, now all are fled Save only the gods. Now his friends are dead, Doors, that were neer acquainted with their wards Many a bounteous year, must be employd Now to guard sure their master And this is all a liberal course allows, Who cannot keep his wealth must keep his house.
TITUS  The like to you, kind Varro.
HORTENSIUS  Lucius What do we meet together
TITUS  So is theirs and ours.
PHILOTUS  Good day at once.
PHILOTUS  Labouring for nine.
PHILOTUS  Is not my lord seen yet?
PHILOTUS  I wonder on t, he was wont to shine at seven.
PHILOTUS  I am of your fear for that.
TITUS  Ill show you how to observe a strange event. Your lord sends now for money.
HORTENSIUS  Most true, he does.
TITUS  And he wears jewels now of Timons gift, For which I wait for money.
HORTENSIUS  It is against my heart.
HORTENSIUS  Im weary of this charge, the gods can witness I know my lord hath spent of Timons wealth, And now ingratitude makes it worse than stealth.
TITUS  One of Lord Timons men.
FLAMINIUS  No, indeed, he is not.
TITUS  We attend his lordship, pray, signify so much.
FLAMINIUS  I need not tell him that, he knows you are too diligent.
TITUS  Do you hear, sir?
FLAVIUS  What do you ask of me, my friend?
TITUS  We wait for certain money here, sir.
FLAVIUS  Ay, If money were as certain as your waiting, Twere sure enough. Why then preferrd you not your sums and bills, When your false masters eat of my lords meat? Then they could smile and fawn upon his debts, And take down the interest into their gluttonous maws. You do yourselves but wrong to stir me up, Let me pass quietly Believet, my lord and I have made an end, I have no more to reckon, he to spend.
FLAVIUS  If twill not serve, tis not so base as you, For you serve knaves.
TITUS  O heres Servilius, now we shall know some answer.
SERVILIUS  If I might beseech you, gentlemen, to repair some other hour, I should derive much from t, for, take t of my soul, my lord leans wondrously to discontent. His comfortable temper has forsook him, hes much out of health, and keeps his chamber.
SERVILIUS  Good gods
TITUS  We cannot take this for answer, sir.
TIMON  What are my doors opposd against my passage? Have I been ever free, and must my house Be my retentive enemy, my gaol? The place which I have feasted, does it now, Like all mankind, show me an iron heart?
TITUS  My lord, here is my bill.
HORTENSIUS  And mine, my lord.
PHILOTUS  All our bills.
TIMON  Knock me down with em cleave me to the girdle.
TIMON  Cut my heart in sums.
TITUS  Mine, fifty talents.
TIMON  Tell out my blood.
TIMON  Five thousand drops pays that. What yours? and yours?
TIMON  Tear me, take me, and the gods fall upon you
HORTENSIUS  Faith, I perceive our masters may throw their caps at their money these debts may well be called desperate ones, for a madman owes em.
TIMON  They have een put my breath from me, the slaves Creditors? devils
FLAVIUS  My dear lord,—
TIMON  What if it should be so?
FLAVIUS  My lord,—
TIMON  Ill have it so. My steward
FLAVIUS  Here, my lord.
TIMON  So fitly Go, bid all my friends again, Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius, all Ill once more feast the rascals.
FLAVIUS  O my lord You only speak from your distracted soul, There is not so much left to furnish out A moderate table.
TIMON  Bet not in thy care go. I charge thee, invite them all let in the tide Of knaves once more, my cook and Ill provide.
SENATOR1  My lord, you have my voice to it, the faults Bloody, tis necessary he should die, Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.
SENATOR2  Most true, the law shall bruise him.
ALCIBIADES  Honour, health, and compassion to the senate
SENATOR1  Now, captain.
ALCIBIADES  I am a humble suitor to your virtues, For pity is the virtue of the law, And none but tyrants use it cruelly. It pleases time and fortune to lie heavy Upon a friend of mine, who, in hot blood, Hath steppd into the law, which is past depth To those that without heed to plunge into t. He is a man, setting his fate aside, Of comely virtues, Nor did he soil the fact with cowardice,— An honour in him which buys out his fault,— But, with a noble fury and fair spirit, Seeing his reputation touchd to death, He did oppose his foe, And with such sober and unnoted passion He did behave his anger, ere twas spent, As if he had but provd an argument.
SENATOR1  You undergo too strict a paradox, Striving to make an ugly deed look fair Your words have took such pains as if they labourd To bring manslaughter into form, and set quarrelling Upon the head of valour, which indeed Is valour misbegot, and came into the world When sects and factions were newly born. Hes truly valiant that can wisely suffer The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs His outsides, to wear them like his raiment, carelessly, And neer prefer his injuries to his heart, To bring it into danger. If wrongs be evils and enforce us kill, What folly tis to hazard life for ill
ALCIBIADES  My lord,—
SENATOR1  You cannot make gross sins look clear, To revenge is no valour, but to bear.
ALCIBIADES  My lords, then, under favour, pardon me, If I speak like a captain. Why do fond men expose themselves to battle, And not endure all threats? sleep upont, And let the foes quietly cut their throats Without repugnancy? If there be Such valour in the bearing, what make we Abroad? why then, women are more valiant That stay at home, if bearing carry it, And the ass more captain than the lion, the felon Loaden with irons wiser than the judge, If wisdom be in suffering. O my lords As you are great, be pitifully good Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood? To kill, I grant, is sins extremest gust, But, in defence, by mercy, tis most just. To be in anger is impiety, But who is man that is not angry? Weigh but the crime with this.
SENATOR2  You breathe in vain.
ALCIBIADES  In vain his service done At Lacedæmon and Byzantium Were a sufficient briber for his life.
SENATOR1  Whats that?
ALCIBIADES  I say, my lords, he has done fair service, And slain in fight many of your enemies. How full of valour did he bear himself In the last conflict, and made plenteous wounds
SENATOR2  He has made too much plenty with em, Hes a sworn rioter, he has a sin that often Drowns him and takes his valour prisoner, If there were no foes, that were enough To overcome him, in that beastly fury He has been known to commit outrages And cherish factions, tis inferrd to us, His days are foul and his drink dangerous.
SENATOR1  He dies.
ALCIBIADES  Hard fate he might have died in war. My lords, if not for any parts in him,— Though his right arm might purchase his own time, And be in debt to none,—yet, more to move you, Take my deserts to his, and join em both, And, for I know your reverend ages love Security, Ill pawn my victories, all My honour to you, upon his good returns. If by this crime he owes the law his life, Why, let the war receivet in valiant gore, For law is strict, and war is nothing more.
SENATOR1  We are for law, he dies urge it no more, On height of our displeasure. Friend, or brother, He forfeits his own blood that spills another.
ALCIBIADES  Must it be so? it must not be. My lords, I do beseech you, know me.
SENATOR2  How
ALCIBIADES  Call me to your remembrances.
SENATOR3  What
ALCIBIADES  I cannot think but your age has forgot me, It could not else be I should prove so base, To sue, and be denied such common grace. My wounds ache at you.
SENATOR1  Do you dare our anger? Tis in few words, but spacious in effect, We banish thee for ever.
ALCIBIADES  Banish me Banish your dotage, banish usury, That makes the senate ugly.
SENATOR1  If, after two days shine, Athens contain thee, Attend our weightier judgment. And, not to swell our spirit, He shall be executed presently.
ALCIBIADES  Now the gods keep you old enough, that you may live Only in bone, that none may look on you I am worse than mad I have kept back their foes, While they have told their money and let out Their coin upon large interest, I myself Rich only in large hurts all those for this? Is this the balsam that the usuring senate Pours into captains wounds? Banishment It comes not ill, I hate not to be banishd, It is a cause worthy my spleen and fury, That I may strike at Athens. Ill cheer up My discontented troops, and lay for hearts. Tis honour with most lands to be at odds, Soldiers should brook as little wrongs as gods.
LORD1  The good time of day to you, sir.
LORD2  I also wish it you. I think this honourable lord did but try us this other day.
LORD1  Upon that were my thoughts tiring when we encountered I hope it is not so low with him as he made it seem in the trial of his several friends.
LORD2  It should not be, by the persuasion of his new feasting.
LORD1  I should think so he hath sent me an earnest inviting, which many my near occasions did urge me to put off, but he hath conjured me beyond them, and I must needs appear.
LORD2  In like manner was I in debt to my importunate business, but he would not hear my excuse. I am sorry, when he sent to borrow of me, that my provision was out.
LORD1  I am sick of that grief too, as I understand how all things go.
LORD2  Every man heres so. What would he have borrowed you?
LORD1  A thousand pieces.
LORD2  A thousand pieces
LORD1  What of you?
LORD3  He sent to me, sir,—Here he comes.
TIMON  With all my heart, gentlemen both, and how fare you?
LORD1  Ever at the best, hearing well of your lordship.
LORD2  The swallow follows not summer more willing than we your lordship.
LORD1  I hope it remains not unkindly with your lordship that I returned you an empty messenger.
TIMON  O sir, let it not trouble you.
LORD2  My noble lord,—
TIMON  Ah my good friend, what cheer?
LORD2  My most honourable lord, I am een sick of shame, that when your lordship this other day sent to me I was so unfortunate a beggar.
TIMON  Think not on t, sir.
LORD2  If you had sent but two hours before,—
LORD2  All covered dishes
LORD1  Royal cheer, I warrant you.
LORD3  Doubt not that, if money and the season can yield it.
LORD1  How do you? Whats the news?
LORD3  Alcibiades is banished hear you of it?
LORD1  Alcibiades banished
LORD2  Alcibiades banished
LORD3  Tis so, be sure of it.
LORD1  How? how?
LORD2  I pray you, upon what?
TIMON  My worthy friends, will you draw near?
LORD3  Ill tell you more anon. Heres a noble feast toward.
LORD2  This is the old man still.
LORD3  Willt hold? willt hold?
LORD2  It does, but time will—and so—
LORD3  I do conceive.
TIMON  Each man to his stool, with that spur as he would to the lip of his mistress, your diet shall be in all places alike. Make not a city feast of it, to let the meat cool ere we can agree upon the first place sit, sit. The gods require our thanks.— You great benefactors sprinkle our society with thankfulness. For your own gifts, make yourselves praised but reserve still to give, lest your deities be despised. Lend to each man enough, that one need not lend to another, for, were your godheads to borrow of men, men would forsake the gods. Make the meat be beloved more than the man that gives it. Let no assembly of twenty be without a score of villains if there sit twelve women at the table, let a dozen of them be as they are. The rest of your fees, O gods the senators of Athens, together with the common lag of people, what is amiss in them, you gods, make suitable for destruction. For these my present friends, as they are to me nothing, so in nothing bless them, and to nothing are they welcome. Uncover, dogs, and lap.
LORD1  How now, my lords
LORD2  Know you the quality of Lord Timons fury?
LORD3  Push did you see my cap?
LORD4  I have lost my gown.
LORD1  Hes but a mad lord, and nought but humour sways him. He gave me a jewel th other day, and now he has beat it out of my hat did you see my jewel?
LORD3  Did you see my cap?
LORD2  Here tis.
LORD4  Here lies my gown.
LORD1  Lets make no stay.
LORD2  Lord Timons mad.
LORD3  I feel t upon my bones.
LORD4  One day he gives us diamonds, next day stones.
TIMON  Let me look back upon thee. O thou wall, That girdlest in those wolves, dive in the earth. And fence not Athens Matrons, turn incontinent Obedience fail in children slaves and fools, Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the bench, And minister in their steads To general filths Convert, othe instant, green virginity Dot in your parents eyes Bankrupts, hold fast, Rather than render back, out with your knives, And cut your trusters throats Bound servants, steal— Large-handed robbers your grave masters are,— And pill by law. Maid, to thy masters bed, Thy mistress is o the brothel Son of sixteen, Pluck the lind crutch from thy old limping sire, With it beat out his brains Piety, and fear, Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth, Domestic awe, night-rest and neighbourhood, Instruction, manners, mysteries and trades, Degrees, observances, customs and laws, Decline to your confounding contraries, And let confusion live Plagues incident to men, Your potent and infectious fevers heap On Athens, ripe for stroke Thou cold sciatica, Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt As lamely as their manners Lust and liberty Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth, Thatgainst the stream of virtue they may strive, And drown themselves in riot Itches, blains, Sow all the Athenian bosoms, and their crop Be general leprosy Breath infect breath, That their society, as their friendship, may Be merely poison Nothing Ill bear from thee But nakedness, thou detestable town Take thou that too, with multiplying bans Timon will to the woods, where he shall find The unkindest beast more kinder than mankind. The gods confound—hear me, you good gods all— The Athenians both within and out that wall And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow To the whole race of mankind, high and low Amen.
SERVANT1  Hear you, Master steward wheres our master? Are we undone? cast off? nothing remaining?
FLAVIUS  Alack my fellows, what should I say to you? Let me be recorded by the righteous gods, I am as poor as you.
SERVANT1  Such a house broke So noble a master falln All gone and not One friend to take his fortune by the arm, And go along with him
SERVANT2  As we do turn our backs From our companion thrown into his grave, So his familiars to his buried fortunes Slink all away, leave their false vows with him, Like empty purses pickd, and his poor self, A dedicated beggar to the air, With his disease of all-shunnd poverty, Walks, like contempt, alone. More of our fellows.
FLAVIUS  All broken implements of a ruind house.
SERVANT3  Yet do our hearts wear Timons livery, That see I by our faces, we are fellows still, Serving alike in sorrow. Leakd is our bark, And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck, Hearing the surges threat we must all part Into this sea of air.
ALCIBIADES  What art thou there? speak.
TIMON  A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw thy heart, For showing me again the eyes of man
ALCIBIADES  What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee, That art thyself a man?
TIMON  I am Misanthropos, and hate mankind. For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog, That I might love thee something.
ALCIBIADES  I know thee well, But in thy fortunes am unlearnd and strange.
TIMON  I know thee too, and more than that I know thee I not desire to know. Follow thy drum, With mans blood paint the ground, gules, gules, Religious canons, civil laws are cruel, Then what should war be? This fell whore of thine Hath in her more destruction than thy sword For all her cherubin look.
PHRYNIA  Thy lips rot off
TIMON  I will not kiss thee, then the rot returns To thine own lips again.
ALCIBIADES  How came the noble Timon to this change?
TIMON  As the moon does, by wanting light to give But then renew I could not like the moon, There were no suns to borrow of.
ALCIBIADES  Noble Timon, what friendship may I do thee?
TIMON  None, but to maintain my opinion.
ALCIBIADES  What is it, Timon?
TIMON  Promise me friendship, but perform none if thou wilt not promise, the gods plague thee, for thou art a man if thou dost perform, confound thee, for thou art a man
ALCIBIADES  I have heard in some sort of thy miseries.
TIMON  Thou sawst them, when I had prosperity.
ALCIBIADES  I see them now, then was a blessed time.
TIMON  As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots.
TIMANDRA  Is this the Athenian minion, whom the world Voicd so regardfully?
TIMON  Art thou Timandra?
TIMANDRA  Yes.
TIMON  Be a whore still, they love thee not that use thee, Give them diseases, leaving with thee their lust. Make use of thy salt hours, season the slaves For tubs and baths, bring down rose-cheeked youth To the tub-fast and the diet.
TIMANDRA  Hang thee, monster
ALCIBIADES  Pardon him, sweet Timandra, for his wits Are drownd and lost in his calamities. I have but little gold of late, brave Timon, The want whereof doth daily make revolt In my penurious band I have heard and grievd How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth, Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour states, But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them,—
TIMON  I prithee, beat thy drum, and get thee gone.
ALCIBIADES  I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon.
TIMON  How dost thou pity him whom thou dost trouble? I had rather be alone.
ALCIBIADES  Why, fare thee well Here is some gold for thee.
TIMON  Keep it, I cannot eat it.
ALCIBIADES  When I have laid proud Athens on a heap,—
TIMON  Warrst thou gainst Athens?
ALCIBIADES  Ay, Timon, and have cause.
TIMON  The gods confound them all in thy conquest, and Thee after, when thou hast conquerd
ALCIBIADES  Why me, Timon?
TIMON  That, by killing of villains, thou wast born to conquer My country. Put up thy gold go on,—heres gold,—go on, Be as a planetary plague, when Jove Will oer some high-vicd city hang his poison In the sick air let not thy sword skip one. Pity not honourd age for his white beard, He is a usurer. Strike me the counterfeit matron, It is her habit only that is honest, Herselfs a bawd. Let not the virgins cheek Make soft thy trenchant sword, for those milkpaps, That through the window-bars bore at mens eyes, Are not within the leaf of pity writ, But set them down horrible traitors. Spare not the babe, Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy, Think it a bastard, whom the oracle Hath doubtfully pronouncd thy throat shall cut, And mince it sans remorse. Swear against objects, Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes, Whose proof nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes, Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding, Shall pierce a jot. Theres gold to pay thy soldiers Make large confusion, and, thy fury spent, Confounded be thyself Speak not, be gone.
ALCIBIADES  Hast thou gold yet? Ill take the gold thou givst me, Not all thy counsel.
TIMON  Dost thou, or dost thou not, heavens curse upon thee
PHRYNIA  Give us some gold, good Timon hast thou more?
TIMANDRA  Give us some gold, good Timon hast thou more?
TIMON  Enough to make a whore forswear her trade, And to make whores a bawd. Hold up, you sluts, Your aprons mountant you are not oathable, Although, I know, youll swear, terribly swear Into strong shudders and to heavenly agues The immortal gods that hear you, spare your oaths, Ill trust to your conditions be whores still, And he whose pious breath seeks to convert you, Be strong in whore, allure him, burn him up, Let your close fire predominate his smoke, And be no turncoats yet may your pains, six months, Be quite contrary and thatch your poor thin roofs With burdens of the dead, some that were hangd, No matter, wear them, betray with them whore still, Paint till a horse may mire upon your face A pox of wrinkles
PHRYNIA  Well, more gold. What then?
TIMANDRA  Well, more gold. What then? Believet, that well do anything for gold.
TIMON  Consumptions sow In hollow bones of man, strike their sharp shins, And mar mens spurring. Crack the lawyers voice, That he may never more false title plead, Nor sound his quillets shrilly hoar the flamen, That scolds against the quality of flesh, And not believes himself down with the nose, Down with it flat, take the bridge quite away Of him that, his particular to foresee, Smells from the general weal make curld-pate ruffians bald, And let the unscarrd braggarts of the war Derive some pain from you plague all, That your activity may defeat and quell The source of all erection. Theres more gold, Do you damn others, and let this damn you, And ditches grave you all
PHRYNIA  More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon.
TIMANDRA  More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon.
TIMON  More whore, more mischief first, I have given you earnest.
ALCIBIADES  Strike up the drum towards Athens Farewell, Timon If I thrive well, Ill visit thee again.
TIMON  If I hope well, Ill never see thee more.
ALCIBIADES  I never did thee harm.
TIMON  Yes, thou spokst well of me.
ALCIBIADES  Callst thou that harm?
TIMON  Men daily find it. Get thee away, and take Thy beagles with thee.
ALCIBIADES  We but offend him. Strike
Digging.  Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast, Teams, and feeds all, whose self-same mettle, Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puffd, Engenders the black toad and adder blue, The gilded newt and eyeless venomd worm, With all the abhorred births below crisp heaven Whareon Hyperions quickening fire doth shine, Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate, From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb, Let it no more bring out ingrateful man Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears, Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face Hath to the marbled mansion all above Never presented O a root, dear thanks Dry up thy marrows, vines and plough-torn leas, Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughts And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind, That from it all consideration slips
APEMANTUS  I was directed hither men report Thou dost affect my manners, and dost use them.
TIMON  Tis, then, because thou dost not keep a dog Whom I would imitate consumption catch thee
APEMANTUS  This is in thee a nature but infected, A poor unmanly melancholy sprung From change of fortune. Why this spade? this place? This slave-like habit? and these looks of care? Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft, Hug their diseasd perfumes, and have forgot That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods By putting on the cunning of a carper. Be thou a flatterer now, and seak to thrive By that which has undone thee hinge thy knee, And let his very breath, whom thoult observe, Blow off thy cap, praise his most vicious strain, And call it excellent. Thou wast told thus, Thou gavst thine ears, like tapsters that bid welcome, To knaves and all approachers tis most just That thou turn rascal, hadst thou wealth again, Rascals should havet. Do not assume my likeness.
TIMON  Were I like thee Id throw away myself.
APEMANTUS  Thou hast cast away thyself, being like thyself, A madman so long, now a fool. What thinkst That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain, Will put thy shirt on warm? will these mossd trees, That have outlivd the eagle, page thy heels And skip when thou pointst out? will the cold brook, Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste To cure the oer-nights surfeit? Call the creatures Whose naked natures live in all the spite Of wreakful heaven, whose bare unhoused trunks To the conflicting elements exposd, Answer mere nature, bid them flatter thee, O thou shalt find—
TIMON  A fool of thee. Depart.
APEMANTUS  I love thee better now than eer I did.
TIMON  I hate thee worse.
APEMANTUS  Why?
TIMON  Thou flatterst misery.
APEMANTUS  I flatter not, but say thou art a caitiff.
TIMON  Why dost thou seek me out?
APEMANTUS  To vex thee.
TIMON  Always a villains office, or a fools. Dost please thyself in t?
APEMANTUS  Ay.
TIMON  What a knave too?
APEMANTUS  If thou didst put this sour-cold habit on To castigate thy pride, twere well, but thou Dost it enforcedly, thoudst courtier be again Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery Outlives incertain pomp, is crownd before, The one is filling still, never complete, The other, at high wish best state, contentless, Hath a distracted and most wretched being, Worse than the worst, content. Thou shouldst desire to die, being miserable.
TIMON  Not by his breath that is more miserable. Thou art a slave, whom Fortunes tender arm With favour never claspd, but bred a dog. Hadst thou, like us from our first swath, proceeded The sweet degrees that this brief world affords To such as may the passive drudges of it Freely command, thou wouldst have plungd thyself In general riot, melted down thy youth In different beds of lust, and never learnd The icy precepts of respect, but followd The sugard game before thee. But myself, Who had the world as my confectionary, The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men At duty, more than I could frame employment, That numberless upon me stuck as leaves Do on the oak, have with one winters brush Fell from their boughs and left me open, bare For every storm that blows, I, to bear this, That never knew but better, is some burden Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time Hath made thee hard in t. Why shouldst thou hate men? They never flatterd thee what hast thou given? If thou wilt curse, thy father, that poor rag, Must be thy subject, who in spite put stuff To some she beggar and compounded thee Poor rogue hereditary. Hence be gone If thou hadst not been born the worst of men, Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer.
APEMANTUS  Art thou proud yet?
TIMON  Ay, that I am not thee.
APEMANTUS  I, that I was No prodigal.
TIMON  I, that I am one now Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee, Id give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone. That the whole life of Athens were in this Thus would I eat it.
APEMANTUS  Here, I will mend thy feast.
TIMON  First mend my company, take away thyself.
APEMANTUS  So I shall mend mine own, by the lack of thine.
TIMON  Tis not well mended so, it is but botchd, If not, I would it were.
APEMANTUS  What wouldst thou have to Athens?
TIMON  Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt, Tell them there I have gold, look, so I have.
APEMANTUS  Here is no use for gold.
TIMON  The best and truest, For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm.
APEMANTUS  Where liest o nights, Timon?
TIMON  Under thats above me. Where feedst thou o days, Apemantus?
APEMANTUS  Where my stomach finds meat, or, rather, where I eat it.
TIMON  Would poison were obedient and knew my mind
APEMANTUS  Where wouldst thou send it?
TIMON  To sauce thy dishes.
APEMANTUS  The middle of humanity thou never knewest, but the extremity of both ends. When thou wast in thy gilt and thy perfume, they mocked thee for too much curiosity, in thy rags thou knowest none, but art despised for the contrary. Theres a medlar for thee, eat it.
TIMON  On what I hate I feed not.
APEMANTUS  Dost hate a medlar?
TIMON  Ay, though it look like thee.
APEMANTUS  An thou hadst hated meddlers sooner, thou shouldst have loved thyself better now. What man didst thou ever know unthrift that was beloved after his means?
TIMON  Who, without those means thou talkest of, didst thou ever know beloved?
APEMANTUS  Myself.
TIMON  I understand thee, thou hadst some means to keep a dog.
APEMANTUS  What things in the world canst thou nearest compare to thy flatterers?
TIMON  Women nearest, but men, men are the things themselves. What wouldst thou do with the world, Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?
APEMANTUS  Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men.
TIMON  Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the confusion of men, and remain a beast with the beasts?
APEMANTUS  Ay, Timon.
TIMON  A beastly ambition, which the gods grant thee to attain to. If thou wert the lion, the fox would beguile thee, if thou wert the lamb, the fox would eat thee, if thou wert the fox, the lion would suspect thee, when peradventure thou wert accused by the ass, if thou wert the ass, thy dulness would torment thee, and still thou livedst but as a breakfast to the wolf, if thou wert the wolf, thy greediness would afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst hazard thy life for thy dinner, wert thou the unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee and make thine own self the conquest of thy fury, wert thou a bear, thou wouldst be killed by the horse, wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be seized by the leopard, wert thou a leopard, thou wert german to the lion, and the spots of thy kindred were jurors on thy life, all thy safety were remotion, and thy defence absence. What beast couldst thou be, that were not subject to a beast? and what a beast art thou already, that seest not thy loss in transformation
APEMANTUS  If thou couldst please me with speaking to me, thou mightst have hit upon it here, the commonwealth of Athens is become a forest of beasts.
TIMON  How has the ass broke the wall, that thou art out of the city?
APEMANTUS  Yonder comes a poet and a painter the plague of company light upon thee I will fear to catch it, and give way. When I know not what else to do, Ill see thee again.
TIMON  When there is nothing living but thee, thou shalt be welcome. I had rather be a beggars dog than Apemantus.
APEMANTUS  Thou art the cap of all the fools alive.
TIMON  Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon
APEMANTUS  A plague on thee thou art too bad to curse
TIMON  All villains that do stand by thee are pure.
APEMANTUS  There is no leprosy but what thou speakst.
TIMON  If I name thee. Ill beat thee, but I should infect my hands.
APEMANTUS  I would my tongue could rot them off
TIMON  Away, thou issue of a mangy dog Choler does kill me that thou art alive, I swound to see thee.
APEMANTUS  Would thou wouldst burst
TIMON  Away, Thou tedious rogue I am sorry I shall lose A stone by thee.
APEMANTUS  Beast
TIMON  Slave
APEMANTUS  Toad
APEMANTUS  Would twere so But not till I am dead, Ill say thoust gold Thou wilt be throngd to shortly.
TIMON  Throngd to?
APEMANTUS  Ay.
TIMON  Thy back, I prithee.
APEMANTUS  Live, and love thy misery
TIMON  Long live so, and so die I am quit. More things like men Eat, Timon, and abhor them.
THIEF1  Where should he have this gold? It is some poor fragment, some slender ort of his remainder. The mere want of gold, and the falling-from of his friends, drove him into this melancholy.
THIEF2  It is noised he hath a mass of treasure.
THIEF3  Let us make the assay upon him if he care not for t, he will supply us easily, if he covetously reserve it, how shalls get it?
THIEF2  True, for he bears it not about him, tis hid.
THIEF1  Is not this he?
THIEVES  Where?
THIEF2  Tis his description.
THIEF3  He, I know him.
ALL  Save thee, Timon.
TIMON  Now, thieves?
ALL  Soldiers, not thieves.
TIMON  Both too, and womens sons.
THIEVES  We are not thieves, but men that much do want.
TIMON  Your greatest want is, you want much of meat. Why should you want? Behold, the earth hath roots, Within this mile break forth a hundred springs, The oaks bear mast, the briers scarlet hips, The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush Lays her full mess before you. Want why want?
THIEF1  We cannot live on grass, on berries, water, As beasts, and birds, and fishes.
TIMON  Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and fishes, You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con That you are thieves professd, that you work not In holier shapes, for there is boundless theft In limited professions. Rascal thieves, Heres gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o the grape, Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth, And so scape hanging trust not the physician, His antidotes are poison, and he slays More than you rob take wealth and lives together, Do villany, do, since you protest to dot, Like workmen. Ill example you with thievery The suns a thief, and with his great attraction Robs the vast sea, the moons an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun, The seas a thief, whose liquid surge resolves The moon into salt tears, the earths a thief, That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen From general excrement, each things a thief, The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power Have uncheckd theft. Love not yourselves, away Rob one another. Theres more gold cut throats, All that you meet are thieves. To Athens go, Break open shops, nothing can you steal But thieves do lose it steal no less for this I give you, and gold confound you howsoeer Amen.
THIEF3  He has almost charmed me from my profession, by persuading me to it.
THIEF1  Tis in the malice of mankind that he thus advises us, not to have us thrive in our mystery.
THIEF2  Ill believe him as an enemy, and give over my trade.
THIEF1  Let us first see peace in Athens, there is no time so miserable but a man may be true.
FLAVIUS  O you gods Is yond despised and ruinous man my lord? Full of decay and failing? O monument And wonder of good deeds evilly bestowd What an alteration of honour Has desperate want made What viler thing upon the earth than friends Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends How rarely does it meet with this times guise, When man was wishd to love his enemies Grant I may ever love, and rather woo Those that would mischief me than those that do He hath caught me in his eye I will present My honest grief unto him, and, as my lord, Still serve him with my life. My dearest master
TIMON  Away what art thou?
FLAVIUS  Have you forgot me, sir?
TIMON  Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men, Then, if thou grantst thourt a man, I have forgot thee.
FLAVIUS  An honest poor servant of yours.
TIMON  Then I know thee not I never had an honest man about me, ay all I kept were knaves, to serve in meat to villains.
FLAVIUS  The gods are witness, Neer did poor steward wear a truer grief For his undone lord than mine eyes for you.
TIMON  What dost thou weep? Come nearer. Then I love thee, Because thou art a woman, and disclaimst Flinty mankind, whose eyes do never give, But thorough lust and laughter. Pitys sleeping Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with weeping
FLAVIUS  I beg of you to know me, good my lord, To accept my grief and whilst this poor wealth lasts To entertain me as your steward still.
TIMON  Had I a steward So true, so just, and now so comfortable? It almost turns my dangerous nature mild. Let me behold thy face. Surely, this man Was born of woman. Forgive my general and exceptless rashness, You perpetual sober gods I do proclaim One honest man, mistake me not, but one, No more, I pray, and hes a steward. How fain would I have hated all mankind And thou redeemst thyself but all, save thee, I fell with curses. Methinks thou art more honest now than wise, For, by oppressing and betraying me, Thou mightst have sooner got another service For many so arrive at second masters Upon their first lords neck. But tell me true,— For I must ever doubt, though neer so sure,— Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous, If not a usuring kindness and as rich men deal gifts, Expecting in return twenty for one?
FLAVIUS  No, my most worthy master, in whose breast Doubt and suspect, alas are placd too late. You should have feard false times when you did feast, Suspect still comes when an estate is least. That which I show, heaven knows, is merely love, Duty and zeal to your unmatched mind, Care of your food and living, and, believe it, My most honourd lord, For any benefit that points to me, Either in hope, or present, Id exchange For this one wish, that you had power and wealth To requite me by making rich yourself.
TIMON  Look thee, tis so. Thou singly honest man, Here, take the gods out of my misery, Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy, But thus conditiond thou shalt build from men, Hate all, curse all, show charity to none, But let the famishd flesh slide from the bone, Ere thou relieve the beggar, give to dogs What thou denyst to men, let prisons swallow em, Debts wither em to nothing, be men like blasted woods, And may diseases lick up their false bloods And so, farewell and thrive.
FLAVIUS  O let me stay And comfort you, my master.
TIMON  If thou hatest Curses, stay not, fly, whilst thourt blessd and free Neer see thou man, and let me neer see thee.
PAINTER  As I took note of the place, it cannot be far where he abides.
POET  Whats to be thought of him? Does the rumour hold for true that he is so full of gold?
PAINTER  Certain Alcibiades reports it, Phrynia and Timandra had gold of him he likewise enriched poor straggling soldiers with great quantity. Tis said he gave unto his steward a mighty sum.
POET  Then this breaking of his has been but a try for his friends.
PAINTER  Nothing else, you shall see him a palm in Athens again, and flourish with the highest. Therefore tis not amiss we tender our loves to him, in this supposed distress of his it will show honestly in us, and is very likely to load our purposes with what they travel for, if it be a just and true report that goes of his having.
POET  What have you now to present unto him?
PAINTER  Nothing at this time but my visitation, only, I will promise him an excellent piece.
POET  I must serve him so too, tell him of an intent thats coming towards him.
PAINTER  Good as the best. Promising is the very air o the time, it opens the eyes of expectation, performance is ever the duller for his act, and, but in the plainer and simpler kind of people, the deed of saying is quite out of use. To promise is most courtly and fashionable, performance is a kind of will or testament which argues a great sickness in his judgment that makes it.
POET  I am thinking what I shall say I have provided for him it must be a personating of himself, a satire against the softness of prosperity, with a discovery of the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency.
POET  Nay, lets seek him Then do we sin against our own estate, When we may profit meet, and come too late.
PAINTER  True, When the day serves, before black-cornerd night, Find what thou wantst by free and offerd light. Come.
Aside.  That he is worshippd in a baser temple Than where swine feed Tis thou that riggst the bark and ploughst the foam, Settlest admired reverence in a slave To thee be worship, and thy saints for aye Be crownd with plagues that thee alone obey. Fit I meet them.
POET  Hail, worthy Timon
PAINTER  Our late noble master
TIMON  Have I once livd to see two honest men?
POET  Sir, Having often of your open bounty tasted, Hearing you were retird, your friends falln off, Whose thankless natures—O abhorred spirits Not all the whips of heaven are large enough— What to you, Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influence To their whole being I am rapt, and cannot cover The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude With any size of words.
TIMON  Let it go naked, men may see t the better You, that are honest, by being what you are, Make them best seen and known.
PAINTER  He and myself Have travelld in the great shower of your gifts, And sweetly felt it.
TIMON  Ay, you are honest men.
PAINTER  We are hither come to offer you our service.
TIMON  Most honest men Why, how shall I requite you? Can you eat roots and drink cold water? no.
BOTH  What we can do, well do, to do you service.
TIMON  Yere honest men. Yeve heard that I have gold, I am sure you have speak truth, yere honest men.
PAINTER  So it is said, my noble lord, but therefore Came not my friend nor I.
TIMON  Good honest men Thou drawst a counterfeit Best in all Athens thourt, indeed, the best, Thou counterfeitst most lively.
PAINTER  So, so, my lord.
TIMON  Een so, sir, as I say. And, for thy fiction, Why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth That thou art even natural in thine art. But for all this, my honest-naturd friends, I must needs say you have a little fault Marry, tis not monstrous in you, neither wish I You take much pains to mend.
BOTH  Beseech your honour To make it known to us.
TIMON  Youll take it ill.
BOTH  Most thankfully, my lord.
TIMON  Will you indeed?
BOTH  Doubt it not, worthy lord.
TIMON  Theres never a one of you but trusts a knave, That mightily deceives you.
BOTH  Do we, my lord?
TIMON  Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble, Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him, Keep in your bosom, yet remain assurd That hes a made-up villain.
PAINTER  I know none such, my lord.
POET  Nor I.
TIMON  Look you, I love you well, Ill give you gold, Rid me these villains from your companies Hang them or stab them, drown them in a draught, Confound them by some course, and come to me, Ill give you gold enough.
BOTH  Name them, my lord, lets know them.
FLAVIUS  It is in vain that you would speak with Timon, For he is set so only to himself That nothing but himself, which looks like man, Is friendly with him.
SENATOR1  Bring us to his cave It is our part and promise to the Athenians To speak with Timon.
SENATOR2  At all times alike Men are not still the same twas time and griefs That framd him thus time, with his fairer hand, Offering the fortunes of his former days, The former man may make him. Bring us to him, And chance it as it may.
FLAVIUS  Here is his cave. Peace and content be here Lord Timon Timon Look out, and speak to friends. The Athenians, By two of their most reverend senate, greet thee Speak to them, noble Timon.
TIMON  Thousun, that comfortst, burn Speak, and be hangd For each true word, a blister and each false Be as a cauterizing to the root othe tongue, Consuming it with speaking
SENATOR1  Worthy Timon,—
TIMON  Of none but such as you, and you of Timon.
SENATOR2  The senators of Athens greet thee, Timon.
TIMON  I thank them, and would send them back the plague, Could I but catch it for them.
SENATOR1  O forget What we are sorry for ourselves in thee. The senators with one consent of love Entreat thee back to Athens, who have thought On special dignities, which vacant lie For thy best use and wearing.
SENATOR2  They confess Toward thee forgetfulness to general, gross, Which now the public body, which doth seldom Play the recanter, feeling in itself A lack of Timons aid, hath sense withal Of its own fail, restraining aid to Timon, And send forth us, to make their sorrowd render, Together with a recompense more fruitful Than their offence can weigh down by the dram, Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealth As shall to thee block out what wrongs were theirs, And write in thee the figures of their love, Ever to read them thine.
TIMON  You witch me in it, Surprise me to the very brink of tears Lend me a fools heart and a womans eyes, And Ill beweep these comforts, worthy senators.
SENATOR1  Therefore so please thee to return with us, And of our Athens—thine and ours—to take The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks, Allowd with absolute power, and thy good name Live with authority so soon we shall drive back Of Alcibiades the approaches wild, Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up His countrys peace.
SENATOR2  And shakes his threatning sword Against the walls of Athens.
SENATOR1  Therefore, Timon,—
TIMON  Well, sir, I will, therefore, I will, sir, thus— If Alcibiades kill my countrymen, Let Alcibiades know this of Timon, That Timon cares not. But if he sack fair Athens, And take our goodly aged men by the beards, Giving our holy virgins to the stain Of contumelious, beastly, mad-braind war, Then let him know, and tell him Timon speaks it, In pity of our aged and our youth I cannot choose but tell him, that I care not, And let him taket at worst, for their knives care not While you have throats to answer for myself, Theres not a whittle in the unruly camp But I do prize it at my love before The reverendst throat in Athens. So I leave you To the protection of the prosperous gods, As thieves to keepers.
FLAVIUS  Stay not, alls in vain.
TIMON  Why, I was writing of my epitaph, It will be seen to-morrow. My long sickness Of health and living now begins to mend, And nothing brings me all things. Go, live still Be Alcibiades your plague, you his, And last so long enough
SENATOR1  We speak in vain.
TIMON  But yet I love my country, and am not One that rejoices in the common wrack, As common bruit doth put it.
SENATOR1  Thats well spoke.
TIMON  Commend me to my loving countrymen,—
SENATOR1  These words become your lips as they pass through them.
SENATOR2  And enter in our ears like great triumphers In their applauding gates.
TIMON  Commend me to them, And tell them, that, to ease them of their griefs, Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, losses, Their pangs of love, with other incident throes That natures fragile vessel doth sustain In lifes uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them Ill teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades wrath.
SENATOR2  I like this well, he will return again.
TIMON  I have a tree which grows here in my close, That mine own use invites me to cut down, And shortly must I fell it, tell my friends, Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree, From high to low throughout, that whoso please To stop affliction, let him take his haste, Come hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe, And hang himself. I pray you, do my greeting.
FLAVIUS  Trouble him no further, thus you still shall find him.
TIMON  Come not to me again, but say to Athans, Timon hath made his everlasting mansion Upon the beached verge of the salt flood, Who once a day with his embossed froth The turbulent surge shall cover thither come, And let my grave-stone be your oracle. Lips, let sour words go by and language end What is amiss plague and infection mend Graves only be mens works and death their gain Sun, hide thy beams Timon hath done his reign.
SENATOR1  His discontents are unremovably Coupled to nature.
SENATOR2  Our hope in him is dead let us return, And strain what other means is left unto us In our dear peril.
SENATOR1  It requires swift foot.
SENATOR1  Thou hast painfully discoverd are his files As full as thy report?
MESSENGER  I have spoke the least, Besides, his expedition promises Present approach.
SENATOR2  We stand much hazard if they bring not Timon.
MESSENGER  I met a courier, one mine ancient friend, Whom, though in general part we were opposd, Yet our old love made a particular force, And made us speak like friends this man was riding From Alcibiades to Timons cave, With letters of entreaty, which imported His fellowship i the cause against your city, In part for his sake movd.
SENATOR1  Here come our brothers.
SENATOR3  No talk of Timon, nothing of him expect. The enemies drum is heard, and fearful scouring Doth choke the air with dust. In, and prepare Ours is the fall, I fear, our foes the snare.
SOLDIER  By all description this should be the place. Whos here? speak, ho No answer What is this? Timon is dead, who hath outstretchd his span Some beast reard this, here does not live a man. Dead, sure, and this his grave. Whats on this tomb I cannot read, the character Ill take with wax Our captain hath in every figure skill, An agd interpreter, though young in days. Before proud Athens hes set down by this, Whose fall the mark of his ambition is.
SENATOR1  Noble and young, When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit, Ere thou hadst power or we had cause of fear, We sent to thee, to give thy rages balm, To wipe out our ingratitude with loves Above their quantity.
SENATOR2  So did we woo Transformed Timon to our citys love By humble message and by promisd means We were not all unkind, nor all deserve The common stroke of war.
SENATOR1  These walls of ours Were not erected by their hands from whom You have receivd your grief, nor are they such That these great towers, trophies, and schools should fall For private faults in them.
SENATOR2  Nor are they living Who were the motives that you first went out, Shame that they wanted cunning in excess Hath broke their hearts. March, noble lord, Into our city with thy banners spread By decimation, and a tithed death,— If thy revenges hunger for that food Which nature loathes,—take thou the destind tenth, And by the hazard of the spotted die Let die the spotted.
SENATOR1  All have not offended, For those that were, it is not square to take On those that are, revenges crimes, like lands, Are not inherited. Then, dear countryman, Bring in thy ranks, but leave without thy rage Spare thyAthenian cradle, and those kin Which in the bluster of thy wrath must fall With those that have offended like a shepherd, Approach the fold and cull th infected forth, But kill not all together.
SENATOR2  What thou wilt, Thou rather shalt enforce it with thy smile Thank hew tot with thy sword.
SENATOR1  Set but thy foot Against our rampird gates, and they shall ope, So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before, To say thoult enter friendly.
SENATOR2  Throw thy glove, Or any token of thine honour else, That thou wilt use the wars as thy redress And not as our confusion, all thy powers Shall make their harbour in our town, till we Have seald thy full desire.
ALCIBIADES  Then theres my glove, Descend, and open your uncharged ports Those enemies of Timons and mine own Whom you yourselves shall set out for reproof, Fall, and no more, and, to atone your fears With my more noble meaning, not a man Shall pass his quarter, or offend the stream Of regular justice in your citys bounds, But shall be renderd to your public laws At heaviest answer.
BOTH  Tis most nobly spoken.
SOLDIER  My noble general, Timon is dead, Entombd upon the very hem o the sea And on his grave-stone this insculpture, which With wax I brought away, whose soft impression Interprets for my poor ignorance.
ALCIBIADES  Here lies a wretched corse, of wretched soul bereft Seek not my name a plague consume you wicked caitiffs left Here lie I, Timon, who, alive, all living men did hate Pass by, and curse thy fill, but pass and stay not here thy gait. These well express in thee thy latter spirits Though thou abhorrdst in us our human griefs, Scorndst our brains flow and those our droplets which From niggard nature fall, yet rich conceit Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep for aye On thy low grave, on faults forgiven. Dead Is noble Timon, of whose memory Hereafter more. Bring me into your city, And I will use the olive with my sword, Make war breed peace, make peace stint war, make each Prescribe to other as each others leech. Let our drums strike.
SATURNINUS  Noble patricians, patrons of my right, Defend the justice of my cause with arms, And, countrymen, my loving followers, Plead my successive title with your swords I am his first-born son that was the last That wore the imperial diadem of Rome, Then let my fathers honours live in me, Nor wrong mine age with this indignity.
BASSIANUS  Romans, friends, followers, favourers of my right, If ever Bassianus, Cæsars son, Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome, Keep then this passage to the Capitol, And suffer not dishonour to approach The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate, To justice, continence, and nobility, But let desert in pure election shine, And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice.
MARCUS  Princes, that strive by factions and by friends Ambitiously for rule and empery, Know that the people of Rome, for whom we stand A special party, have, by common voice, In election for the Roman empery, Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius, For many good and great deserts to Rome A nobler man, a braver warrior, Lives not this day within the city walls He by the senate is accited home From weary wars against the barbarous Goths, That, with his sons, a terror to our foes, Hath yokd a nation, strong, traind up in arms. Ten years are spent since first he undertook This cause of Rome, and chastised with arms Our enemies pride five times he hath returnd Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons In coffins from the field, And now at last, laden with honours spoils, Returns the good Andronicus to Rome, Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms. Let us entreat, by honour of his name, Whom worthily you would have now succeed, And in the Capitol and senates right, Whom you pretend to honour and adore, That you withdraw you and abate your strength, Dismiss your followers, and, as suitors should, Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness.
SATURNINUS  How fair the tribune speaks to calm my thoughts
BASSIANUS  Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy In thy uprightness and integrity, And so I love and honour thee and thine, Thy noble brother Titus and his sons, And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all, Gracious Lavinia, Romes rich ornament, That I will here dismiss my loving friends, And to my fortunes and the peoples favour Commit my cause in balance to be weighd.
SATURNINUS  Friends, that have been thus forward in my right, I thank you all and here dismiss you all, And to the love and favour of my country Commit myself, my person, and the cause. Rome, be as just and gracious unto me As I am confident and kind to thee. Open the gates, and let me in.
CAPTAIN  Romans, make way the good Andronicus, Patron of virtue, Romes best champion, Successful in the battles that he fights, With honour and with fortune is returnd From where he circumscribed with his sword, And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome.
LUCIUS  Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths, That we may hew his limbs, and on a pile Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh, Before this earthy prison of their bones, That so the shadows be not unappeasd, Nor we disturbd with prodigies on earth.
TITUS  I give him you, the noblest that survives The eldest son of this distressed queen.
TAMORA  Stay, Roman brethren Gracious conqueror, Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed, A mothers tears in passion for her son And if thy sons were ever dear to thee, O think my son to be as dear to me. Sufficeth not that we are brought to Rome, To beautify thy triumphs and return, Captive to thee and to thy Roman yoke, But must my sons be slaughterd in the streets For valiant doings in their countrys cause? O if to fight for king and commonweal Were piety in thine, it is in these. Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods? Draw near them then in being merciful, Sweet mercy is nobilitys true badge Thrice-noble Titus, spare my first-born son.
TITUS  Patient yourself, madam, and pardon me. These are their brethren, whom your Goths beheld Alive and dead, and for their brethren slain Religiously they ask a sacrifice To this your son is markd, and die he must, To appease their groaning shadows that are gone.
LUCIUS  Away with him and make a fire straight, And with our swords, upon a pile of wood, Lets hew his limbs till they be clean consumd.
TAMORA  O cruel, irreligious piety
CHIRON  Was ever Scythia half so barbarous?
DEMETRIUS  Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome. Alarbus goes to rest, and we survive To tremble under Titus threatening look. Then, madam, stand resolvd, but hope withal The self-same gods, that armd the Queen of Troy With opportunity of sharp revenge Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent, May favour Tamora, the Queen of Goths— When Goths were Goths, and Tamora was queen— To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes.
LUCIUS  See, lord and father, how we have performd Our Roman rites. Alarbus limbs are loppd, And entrails feed the sacrificing fire, Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky. Remaineth nought but to inter our brethren, And with loud larums welcome them to Rome.
LAVINIA  In peace and honour live Lord Titus long, My noble lord and father, live in fame Lo at this tomb my tributary tears I render for my brethrens obsequies, And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy Shed on the earth for thy return to Rome. O bless me here with thy victorious hand, Whose fortunes Romes best citizens applaud.
TITUS  Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly reservd The cordial of mine age to glad my heart Lavinia, live, outlive thy fathers days, And fames eternal date, for virtues praise
MARCUS  Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother, Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome
TITUS  Thanks, gentle Tribune, noble brother Marcus.
MARCUS  And welcome, nephews, from successful wars, You that survive, and you that sleep in fame Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all, That in your countrys service drew your swords, But safer triumph is this funeral pomp, That hath aspird to Solons happiness, And triumphs over chance in honours bed. Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome, Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been, Send thee by me, their tribune and their trust, This palliament of white and spotless hue, And name thee in election for the empire, With these our late-deceased emperors sons Be candidatus then, and put it on, And help to set a head on headless Rome.
TITUS  A better head her glorious body fits Than his that shakes for age and feebleness. What should I don this robe, and trouble you? Be chosen with proclamations to-day, To-morrow yield up rule, resign my life, And set abroad new business for you all? Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years, And led my countrys strength successfully, And buried one-and-twenty valiant sons, Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms, In right and service of their noble country. Give me a staff of honour for mine age, But not a sceptre to control the world Upright he held it, lords, that held it last.
MARCUS  Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery.
SATURNINUS  Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou tell?
TITUS  Patience, Prince Saturninus.
SATURNINUS  Romans, do me right Patricians, draw your swords, and sheathe them not Till Saturninus be Romes emperor. Andronicus, would thou wert shippd to hell, Rather than rob me of the peoples hearts
LUCIUS  Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good That noble-minded Titus means to thee
TITUS  Content thee, prince, I will restore to thee The peoples hearts, and wean them from themselves.
BASSIANUS  Andronicus, I do not flatter thee, But honour thee, and will do till I die My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends, I will most thankful be, and thanks to men Of noble minds is honourable meed.
TITUS  People of Rome, and peoples tribunes here, I ask your voices and your suffrages Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus?
TRIBUNES  To gratify the good Andronicus, And gratulate his safe return to Rome, The people will accept whom he admits.
TITUS  Tribunes, I thank you, and this suit I make, That you create your emperors eldest son, Lord Saturnine, whose virtues will, I hope, Reflect on Rome as Titans rays on earth, And ripen justice in this commonweal Then, if you will elect by my advice, Crown him, and say, Long live our emperor
MARCUS  With voices and applause of every sort, Patricians and plebeians, we create Lord Saturninus Romes great emperor, And say, Long live our Emperor Saturnine
SATURNINUS  Titus Andronicus, for thy favours done To us in our election this day, I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts, And will with deeds requite thy gentleness And, for an onset, Titus, to advance Thy name and honourable family, Lavinia will I make my empress, Romes royal mistress, mistress of my heart, And in the sacred Pantheon her espouse. Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please thee?
TITUS  It doth, my worthy lord, and in this match I hold me highly honourd of your Grace And here in sight of Rome to Saturnine, King and commander of our commonweal, The wide worlds emperor, do I consecrate My sword, my chariot, and my prisoners, Presents well worthy Romes imperious lord Receive them then, the tribute that I owe, Mine honours ensigns humbled at thy feet.
SATURNINUS  Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life How proud I am of thee and of thy gifts Rome shall record, and, when I do forget The least of these unspeakable deserts, Romans, forget your fealty to me.
SATURNINUS  A goodly lady, trust me, of the hue That I would choose, were I to choose anew. Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance Though chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer, Thou comst not to be made a scorn in Rome Princely shall be thy usage every way. Rest on my word, and let not discontent Daunt all your hopes madam, he comforts you Can make you greater than the Queen of Goths. Lavinia, you are not displeasd with this?
LAVINIA  Not I, my lord, sith true nobility Warrants these words in princely courtesy.
SATURNINUS  Thanks, sweet Lavinia. Romans, let us go, Ransomless here we set our prisoners free Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and drum.
BASSIANUS  Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine.
TITUS  How, sir Are you in earnest then, my lord?
BASSIANUS  Ay, noble Titus, and resolvd withal To do myself this reason and this right.
MARCUS  Suum cuique is our Roman justice This prince in justice seizeth but his own.
LUCIUS  And that he will, and shall, if Lucius live.
TITUS  Traitors, avaunt Where is the emperors guard? Treason, my lord Lavinia is surprisd.
SATURNINUS  Surprisd By whom?
BASSIANUS  By him that justly may Bear his betrothd from all the world away.
MUTIUS  Brothers, help to convey her hence away, And with my sword Ill keep this door safe.
TITUS  Follow, my lord, and Ill soon bring her back.
MUTIUS  My lord, you pass not here.
TITUS  What villain boy, Barrst me my way in Rome?
LUCIUS  My lord, you are unjust, and, more than so, In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son.
TITUS  Nor thou, nor he, are any sons of mine, My sons would never so dishonour me. Traitor, restore Lavinia to the emperor.
LUCIUS  Dead, if you will, but not to be his wife That is anothers lawful promisd love.
SATURNINUS  No, Titus, no, the emperor needs her not, Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stock Ill trust, by leisure, him that mocks me once, Thee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons, Confederates all thus to dishonour me. Was none in Rome to make a stale But Saturnine? Full well, Andronicus, Agreed these deeds with that proud brag of thine, That saidst I beggd the empire at thy hands.
TITUS  O monstrous what reproachful words are these
SATURNINUS  But go thy ways, go, give that changing piece To him that flourishd for her with his sword. A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy, One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons, To ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome.
TITUS  These words are razors to my wounded heart.
SATURNINUS  And therefore, lovely Tamora, Queen of Goths, That like the stately Phœbe mongst her nymphs, Dost overshine the gallantst dames of Rome, If thou be pleasd with this my sudden choice, Behold, I choose thee, Tamora, for my bride, And will create thee Empress of Rome. Speak, Queen of Goths, dost thou applaud my choice? And here I swear by all the Roman gods, Sith priest and holy water are so near, And tapers burn so bright, and every thing In readiness for Hymenæus stand, I will not re-salute the streets of Rome, Or climb my palace, till from forth this place I lead espousd my bride along with me.
TAMORA  And here, in sight of heaven, to Rome I swear, If Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths, She will a handmaid be to his desires, A loving nurse, a mother to his youth.
SATURNINUS  Ascend, fair queen, Pantheon. Lords, accompany Your noble emperor, and his lovely bride, Sent by the heavens for Prince Saturnine, Whose wisdom hath her fortune conquered There shall we consummate our spousal rights.
TITUS  I am not bid to wait upon this bride. Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone, Dishonourd thus, and challenged of wrongs?
MARCUS  O Titus, see, O see what thou hast done, In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son.
TITUS  No, foolish tribune, no, no son of mine, Nor thou, nor these, confederates in the deed That hath dishonourd all our family Unworthy brother, and unworthy sons
LUCIUS  But let us give him burial, as becomes, Give Mutius burial with our brethren.
TITUS  Traitors, away he rests not in this tomb. This monument five hundred years hath stood, Which I have sumptuously re-edified Here none but soldiers and Romes servitors Repose in fame, none basely slain in brawls. Bury him where you can, he comes not here.
MARCUS  My lord, this is impiety in you. My nephew Mutius deeds do plead for him, He must be buried with his brethren.
QUINTUS  And shall, or him we will accompany.
MARTIUS  And shall, or him we will accompany.
TITUS  And shall What villain was it spake that word?
QUINTUS  He that would vouch it in any place but here.
TITUS  What would you bury him in my despite?
MARCUS  No, noble Titus, but entreat of thee To pardon Mutius, and to bury him.
TITUS  Marcus, even thou hast struck upon my crest, And, with these boys, mine honour thou hast wounded My foes I do repute you every one, So, trouble me no more, but get you gone.
MARTIUS  He is not with himself, let us withdraw.
QUINTUS  Not I, till Mutius bones be buried.
MARCUS  Brother, for in that name doth nature plead,—
QUINTUS  Father, and in that name doth nature speak,—
TITUS  Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed.
MARCUS  Renowned Titus, more than half my soul,—
LUCIUS  Dear father, soul and substance of us all,—
MARCUS  Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter His noble nephew here in virtues nest, That died in honour and Lavinias cause. Thou art a Roman, be not barbarous The Greeks upon advice did bury Ajax That slew himself, and wise Laertes son Did graciously plead for his funerals. Let not young Mutius then, that was thy joy, Be barrd his entrance here.
TITUS  Rise, Marcus, rise. The dismallst day is this that eer I saw, To be dishonourd by my sons in Rome Well, bury him, and bury me the next.
LUCIUS  There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, with thy friends, Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb.
Kneeling.  He lives in fame that died in virtues cause.
MARCUS  My lord,—to step out of these dreary dumps,— How comes it that the subtle Queen of Goths Is of a sudden thus advancd in Rome?
TITUS  I know not, Marcus, but I know it is, Whether by device or no, the heavens can tell. Is she not, then, beholding to the man That brought her for this high good turn so far?
MARCUS  Yes, and will nobly him remunerate.
SATURNINUS  So, Bassianus, you have playd your prize God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride.
BASSIANUS  And you of yours, my lord I say no more, Nor wish no less, and so I take my leave.
SATURNINUS  Traitor, if Rome have law or we have power, Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape.
BASSIANUS  Rape call you it, my lord, to seize my own, My true-betrothed love and now my wife? But let the laws of Rome determine all, Meanwhile, I am possessd of that is mine.
SATURNINUS  Tis good, sir you are very short with us, But, if we live, well be as sharp with you.
BASSIANUS  My lord, what I have done, as best I may, Answer I must and shall do with my life. Only thus much I give your Grace to know By all the duties that I owe to Rome, This noble gentleman, Lord Titus here, Is in opinion and in honour wrongd, That, in the rescue of Lavinia, With his own hand did slay his youngest son, In zeal to you and highly movd to wrath To be controlld in that he frankly gave Receive him then to favour, Saturnine, That hath expressd himself in all his deeds A father and a friend to thee and Rome.
TITUS  Prince Bassianus, leave to plead my deeds Tis thou and those that have dishonourd me. Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge, How I have lovd and honourd Saturnine
TAMORA  My worthy lord, if ever Tamora Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine, Then hear me speak indifferently for all, And at my suit, sweet, pardon what is past.
SATURNINUS  What, madam be dishonourd openly, And basely put it up without revenge?
Aloud.  Take up this good old man, and cheer the heart That dies in tempest of thy angry frown
SATURNINUS  Rise, Titus, rise, my empress hath prevaild.
TITUS  I thank your majesty, and her, my lord. These words, these looks, infuse new life in me.
TAMORA  Titus, I am incorporate in Rome, A Roman now adopted happily, And must advise the emperor for his good. This day all quarrels die, Andronicus, And let it be mine honour, good my lord, That I have reconcild your friends and you. For you, Prince Bassianus, I have passd My word and promise to the emperor, That you will be more mild and tractable. And fear not, lords, and you, Lavinia, By my advice, all humbled on your knees, You shall ask pardon of his majesty.
LUCIUS  We do, and vow to heaven and to his highness, That what we did was mildly, as we might, Tendering our sisters honour and our own.
MARCUS  That on mine honour here I do protest.
SATURNINUS  Away, and talk not, trouble us no more.
TAMORA  Nay, nay, sweet emperor, we must all be friends The tribune and his nephews kneel for grace, I will not be denied sweet heart, look back.
SATURNINUS  Marcus, for thy sake, and thy brothers here, And at my lovely Tamoras entreats, I do remit these young mens heinous faults Stand up. Lavinia, though you left me like a churl, I found a friend, and sure as death I swore I would not part a bachelor from the priest. Come, if the emperors court can feast two brides, You are my guest, Lavinia, and your friends. This day shall be a love-day, Tamora.
TITUS  To-morrow, an it please your majesty To hunt the panther and the hart with me, With horn and hound well give your Grace bon jour.
AARON  Now climbeth Tamora Olympus top, Safe out of Fortunes shot, and sits aloft, Secure of thunders crack or lightning flash, Advancd above pale envys threatning reach. As when the golden sun salutes the morn, And, having gilt the ocean with his beams, Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach, And overlooks the highest-peering hills, So Tamora. Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown. Then, Aaron, arm thy heart, and fit thy thoughts To mount aloft with thy imperial mistress, And mount her pitch, whom thou in triumph long Hast prisoner held, fetterd in amorous chains, And faster bound to Aarons charming eyes Than is Prometheus tied to Caucasus. Away with slavish weeds and servile thoughts I will be bright, and shine in pearl and gold, To wait upon this new-made empress. To wait, said I? to wanton with this queen, This goddess, this Semiramis, this nymph, This siren, that will charm Romes Saturnine, And see his shipwrack and his commonweals. Holla what storm is this?
DEMETRIUS  Chiron, thy years want wit, thy wit wants edge And manners, to intrude where I am gracd, And may, for aught thou knowst, affected be.
CHIRON  Demetrius, thou dost over-ween in all And so in this, to bear me down with braves. Tis not the difference of a year or two Makes me less gracious or thee more fortunate I am as able and as fit as thou To serve, and to deserve my mistress grace, And that my sword upon thee shall approve, And plead my passions for Lavinias love.
AARON  Clubs, clubs these lovers will not keep the peace.
DEMETRIUS  Why, boy, although our mother, unadvisd, Gave you a dancing-rapier by your side, Are you so desperate grown, to threat your friends? Go to, have your lath glud within your sheath Till you know better how to handle it.
CHIRON  Meanwhile, sir, with the little skill I have, Full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare.
DEMETRIUS  Ay, boy, grow ye so brave?
AARON  Why, how now, lords So near the emperors palace dare you draw, And maintain such a quarrel openly? Full well I wot the ground of all this grudge I would not for a million of gold The cause were known to them it most concerns, Nor would your noble mother for much more Be so dishonourd in the court of Rome. For shame, put up.
DEMETRIUS  Not I, till I have sheathd My rapier in his bosom, and withal Thrust those reproachful speeches down his throat That he hath breathd in my dishonour here.
CHIRON  For that I am prepard and full resolvd, Foul-spoken coward, that thunderst with thy tongue, And with thy weapon nothing darst perform
AARON  Away, I say Now, by the gods that war-like Goths adore, This petty brabble will undo us all. Why, lords, and think you not how dangerous It is to jet upon a princes right? What is Lavinia then become so loose, Or Bassianus so degenerate, That for her love such quarrels may be broachd Without controlment, justice, or revenge? Young lords, beware an should the empress know This discords ground, the music would not please.
CHIRON  I care not, I, knew she and all the world I love Lavinia more than all the world.
DEMETRIUS  Youngling, learn thou to make some meaner choice Lavinia is thine elder brothers hope.
AARON  Why, are ye mad? or know ye not in Rome How furious and impatient they be, And cannot brook competitors in love? I tell you, lords, you do but plot your deaths By this device.
CHIRON  Aaron, a thousand deaths Would I propose, to achieve her whom I love.
AARON  To achieve her how?
DEMETRIUS  Why makst thou it so strange? She is a woman, therefore may be wood, She is a woman, therefore may be won, She is Lavinia, therefore must be lovd. What, man more water glideth by the mill Than wots the miller of, and easy it is Of a cut loaf to steal a shive, we know Though Bassianus be the emperors brother, Better than he have worn Vulcans badge.
DEMETRIUS  Then why should he despair that knows to court it With words, fair looks, and liberality? What hast thou not full often struck a doe, And borne her cleanly by the keepers nose?
AARON  Why, then, it seems, some certain snatch or so Would serve your turns.
CHIRON  Ay, so the turn were servd.
DEMETRIUS  Aaron, thou hast hit it.
AARON  Would you had hit it too Then should not we be tird with this ado. Why, hark ye, hark ye and are you such fools To square for this? Would it offend you then That both should speed?
CHIRON  Faith, not me.
DEMETRIUS  Nor me, so I were one.
AARON  For shame, be friends, and join for that you jar Tis policy and stratagem must do That you affect, and so must you resolve, That what you cannot as you would achieve, You must perforce accomplish as you may. Take this of me Lucrece was not more chaste Than this Lavinia, Bassianus love. A speedier course than lingering languishment Must we pursue, and I have found the path. My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand, There will the lovely Roman ladies troop The forest walks are wide and spacious, And many unfrequented plots there are Fitted by kind for rape and villany Single you thither then this dainty doe, And strike her home by force, if not by words This way, or not at all, stand you in hope. Come, come, our empress, with her sacred wit To villany and vengeance consecrate, Will we acquaint with all that we intend, And she shall file our engines with advice, That will not suffer you to square yourselves, But to your wishes height advance you both. The emperors court is like the house of Fame, The palace full of tongues, of eyes, and ears The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and dull, There speak, and strike, brave boys, and take your turns, There serve your lusts, shadowd from heavens eye, And revel in Lavinias treasury.
CHIRON  Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice.
DEMETRIUS  Sit fas aut nefas, till I find the stream To cool this heat, a charm to calm these fits, Per Styga, per manes vehor.
SATURNINUS  And you have rung it lustily, my lord, Somewhat too early for new-married ladies.
BASSIANUS  Lavinia, how say you?
LAVINIA  I say, no, I have been broad awake two hours and more.
MARCUS  I have dogs, my lord, Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase, And climb the highest promontory top.
TITUS  And I have horse will follow where the game Makes way, and run like swallows oer the plain.
Aside.  But hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground.
TAMORA  My lovely Aaron, wherefore lookst thou sad, When every thing doth make a gleeful boast? The birds chant melody on every bush, The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun, The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind, And make a chequerd shadow on the ground. Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit, And, whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds, Replying shrilly to the well-tund horns, As if a double hunt were heard at once, Let us sit down and mark their yelping noise, And after conflict, such as was supposd The wandering prince and Dido once enjoyd, When with a happy storm they were surprisd, And curtaind with a counsel-keeping cave, We may, each wreathed in the others arms, Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber, Whiles hounds and horns and sweet melodious birds Be unto us as is a nurses song Of lullaby to bring her babe asleep.
AARON  Madam, though Venus govern your desires, Saturn is dominator over mine What signifies my deadly-standing eye, My silence and my cloudy melancholy, My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls Even as an adder when she doth unroll To do some fatal execution? No, madam, these are no venereal signs Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, Blood and revenge are hammering in my head. Hark, Tamora, the empress of my soul, Which never hopes more heaven than rests in thee, This is the day of doom for Bassianus, His Philomel must lose her tongue to-day, Thy sons make pillage of her chastity, And wash their hands in Bassianus blood. Seest thou this letter? take it up, I pray thee, And give the king this fatal-plotted scroll. Now question me no more, we are espied, Here comes a parcel of our hopeful booty, Which dreads not yet their lives destruction.
TAMORA  Ah my sweet Moor, sweeter to me than life.
AARON  No more, great empress, Bassianus comes Be cross with him, and Ill go fetch thy sons To back thy quarrels, whatsoeer they be.
BASSIANUS  Who have we here? Romes royal empress, Unfurnishd of her well-beseeming troop? Or is it Dian, habited like her, Who hath abandoned her holy groves, To see the general hunting in this forest?
TAMORA  Saucy controller of our private steps Had I the power that some say Dian had, Thy temples should be planted presently With horns, as was Actæons, and the hounds Should drive upon thy new-transformed limbs, Unmannerly intruder as thou art
LAVINIA  Under your patience, gentle empress, Tis thought you have a goodly gift in horning, And to be doubted that your Moor and you Are singled forth to try experiments. Jove shield your husband from his hounds to-day Tis pity they should take him for a stag.
BASSIANUS  Believe me, queen, your swarth Cimmerian Doth make your honour of his bodys hue, Spotted, detested, and abominable. Why are you sequesterd from all your train, Dismounted from your snow-white goodly steed, And wanderd hither to an obscure plot, Accompanied but with a barbarous Moor, If foul desire had not conducted you?
LAVINIA  And, being intercepted in your sport, Great reason that my noble lord be rated For sauciness. I pray you, let us hence, And let her joy her raven-colourd love, This valley fits the purpose passing well.
BASSIANUS  The king my brother shall have note of this.
LAVINIA  Ay, for these slips have made him noted long Good king, to be so mightily abusd
TAMORA  Why have I patience to endure all this?
DEMETRIUS  How now, dear sovereign, and our gracious mother Why doth your highness look so pale and wan?
TAMORA  Have I not reason, think you, to look pale? These two have ticd me hither to this place A barren detested vale, you see, it is, The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, Oercome with moss and baleful mistletoe Here never shines the sun, here nothing breeds, Unless the nightly owl or fatal raven And when they showd me this abhorred pit, They told me, here, at dead time of the night, A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes, Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins, Would make such fearful and confused cries, As any mortal body hearing it Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly. No sooner had they told this hellish tale, But straight they told me they would bind me here Unto the body of a dismal yew, And leave me to this miserable death And then they called me foul adulteress, Lascivious Goth, and all the bitterest terms That ever ear did hear to such effect, And, had you not by wondrous fortune come, This vengeance on me had they executed. Revenge it, as you love your mothers life, Or be ye not henceforth calld my children.
DEMETRIUS  This is a witness that I am thy son.
CHIRON  And this for me, struck home to show my strength.
LAVINIA  Ay, come, Semiramis, nay, barbarous Tamora, For no name fits thy nature but thy own.
TAMORA  Give me thy poniard, you shall know, my boys, Your mothers hand shall right your mothers wrong.
DEMETRIUS  Stay, madam, here is more belongs to her First thrash the corn, than after burn the straw. This minion stood upon her chastity, Upon her nuptial vow, her loyalty, And with that painted hope she braves your mightiness And shall she carry this unto her grave?
CHIRON  An if she do, I would I were an eunuch. Drag hence her husband to some secret hole, And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust.
TAMORA  But when ye have the honey ye desire, Let not this wasp outlive, us both to sting.
CHIRON  I warrant you, madam, we will make that sure. Come, mistress, now perforce we will enjoy That nice-preserved honesty of yours.
LAVINIA  O Tamora thou bearst a womans face,—
TAMORA  I will not hear her speak, away with her
LAVINIA  Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but a word.
DEMETRIUS  Listen, fair madam let it be your glory To see her tears, but be your heart to them As unrelenting flint to drops of rain.
CHIRON  What wouldst thou have me prove myself a bastard?
LAVINIA  Tis true the raven doth not hatch a lark Yet have I heard, O could I find it now, The lion movd with pity did endure To have his princely paws pard all away. Some say that ravens foster forlorn children, The whilst their own birds famish in their nests O be to me, though thy hard heart say no, Nothing so kind, but something pitiful.
TAMORA  I know not what it means, away with her
LAVINIA  O, let me teach thee for my fathers sake, That gave thee life when well he might have slain thee, Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears.
TAMORA  Hadst thou in person neer offended me, Even for his sake am I pitiless. Remember, boys, I pourd forth tears in vain To save your brother from the sacrifice, But fierce Andronicus would not relent Therefore, away with her, and use her as you will The worse to her, the better lovd of me.
LAVINIA  O Tamora be calld a gentle queen, And with thine own hands kill me in this place, For tis not life that I have beggd so long, Poor I was slain when Bassianus died.
TAMORA  What beggst thou then? fond woman, let me go.
LAVINIA  Tis present death I beg, and one thing more That womanhood denies my tongue to tell. O keep me from their worse than killing lust, And tumble me into some loathsome pit, Where never mans eye may behold my body Do this, and be a charitable murderer.
TAMORA  So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee No, let them satisfy their lust on thee.
DEMETRIUS  Away for thou hast stayd us here too long.
LAVINIA  No grace no womanhood Ah, beastly creature, The blot and enemy to our general name. Confusion fall—
CHIRON  Nay, then Ill stop your mouth. Bring thou her husband This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him.
TAMORA  Farewell, my sons see that you make her sure. Neer let my heart know merry cheer indeed Till all the Andronici be made away. Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor, And let my spleenful sons this trull deflower.
AARON  Come on, my lords, the better foot before Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit Where I espied the panther fast asleep.
QUINTUS  My sight is very dull, whateer it bodes.
MARTIUS  And mine, I promise you weret not for shame, Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile.
QUINTUS  What art thou falln? What subtle hole is this, Whose mouth is coverd with rude-growing briers, Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood As fresh as mornings dew distilld on flowers? A very fatal place it seems to me. Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall?
MARTIUS  O brother with the dismallst object hurt That ever eye with sight made heart lament.
Aside.  That he thereby may give a likely guess How these were they that made away his brother.
MARTIUS  Why dost not comfort me, and help me out From this unhallowd and blood-stained hole?
QUINTUS  I am surprised with an uncouth fear, A chilling sweat oerruns my trembling joints My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.
MARTIUS  To prove thou hast a true-divining heart, Aaron and thou look down into this den, And see a fearful sight of blood and death.
QUINTUS  Aaron is gone, and my compassionate heart Will not permit mine eyes once to behold The thing whereat it trembles by surmise. O tell me how it is, for neer till now Was I a child, to fear I know not what.
MARTIUS  Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here, All on a heap, like to a slaughterd lamb, In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit.
QUINTUS  If it be dark, how dost thou know tis he?
MARTIUS  Upon his bloody finger he doth wear A precious ring, that lightens all the hole, Which, like a taper in some monument, Doth shine upon the dead mans earthy cheeks, And shows the ragged entrails of the pit So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus When he by night lay bathd in maiden blood. O brother help me with thy fainting hand, If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath, Out of this fell devouring receptacle, As hateful as Cocytus misty mouth.
QUINTUS  Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee out, Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good I may be pluckd into the swallowing womb Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus grave. I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink.
MARTIUS  Nor I no strength to climb without thy help.
SATURNINUS  Along with me Ill see what hole is here, And what he is that now is leapd into it. Say, who art thou that lately didst descend Into this gaping hollow of the earth?
MARTIUS  The unhappy son of old Andronicus, Brought hither in a most unlucky hour, To find thy brother Bassianus dead.
SATURNINUS  My brother dead I know thou dost but jest He and his lady both are at the lodge, Upon the north side of this pleasant chase, Tis not an hour since I left him there.
MARTIUS  We know not where you left him all alive, But, out alas here have we found him dead.
TAMORA  Where is my lord, the king?
SATURNINUS  Here, Tamora, though grievd with killing grief.
TAMORA  Where is thy brother Bassianus?
SATURNINUS  Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound Poor Bassianus here lies murdered.
SATURNINUS  And if we miss to meet him handsomely, Sweet huntsman, Bassianus tis we mean, Do thou so much as dig the grave for him Thou knowst our meaning. Look for thy reward Among the nettles at the elder-tree Which overshades the mouth of that same pit Where we decreed to bury Bassianus Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends. O Tamora was ever heard the like? This is the pit, and this the elder-tree. Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out That should have murderd Bassianus here.
AARON  My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold.
TAMORA  What are they in this pit? O wondrous thing How easily murder is discovered
TITUS  High emperor, upon my feeble knee I beg this boon with tears not lightly shed, That this fell fault of my accursed sons, Accursed, if the fault be provd in them,—
SATURNINUS  If it be provd you see it is apparent. Who found this letter? Tamora, was it you?
TAMORA  Andronicus himself did take it up.
TITUS  I did, my lord yet let me be their bail, For, by my fathers reverend tomb, I vow They shall be ready at your highness will To answer their suspicion with their lives.
SATURNINUS  Thou shalt not bail them see thou follow me. Some bring the murderd body, some the murderers Let them not speak a word, the guilt is plain, For, by my soul, were there worse end than death, That end upon them should be executed.
TAMORA  Andronicus, I will entreat the king Fear not thy sons, they shall do well enough.
TITUS  Come, Lucius, come, stay not to talk with them.
DEMETRIUS  So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak, Who twas that cut thy tongue and ravishd thee.
CHIRON  Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning so, An if thy stumps will let thee play the scribe.
DEMETRIUS  See, how with signs and tokens she can scrowl.
CHIRON  Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy hands.
DEMETRIUS  She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash, And so lets leave her to her silent walks.
CHIRON  An twere my case, I should go hang myself.
DEMETRIUS  If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord.
MARCUS  Whos this? my niece, that flies away so fast? Cousin, a word, where is your husband? If I do dream, would all my wealth would wake me If I do wake, some planet strike me down, That I may slumber in eternal sleep Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands Have loppd and hewd and made thy body bare Of her two branches, those sweet ornaments, Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in, And might not gain so great a happiness As have thy love? Why dost not speak to me? Alas a crimson river of warm blood, Like to a bubbling fountain stirrd with wind, Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips, Coming and going with thy honey breath. But, sure, some Tereus hath deflowerd thee, And, lest thou shouldst detect him, cut thy tongue. Ah now thou turnst away thy face for shame, And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood, As from a conduit with three issuing spouts, Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titans face Blushing to be encounterd with a cloud. Shall I speak for thee? shall I say tis so? O that I knew thy heart, and knew the beast, That I might rail at him to ease my mind. Sorrow concealed, like to an oven stoppd, Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is. Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue, And in a tedious sampler sewd her mind But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee, A craftier Tereus hast thou met withal, And he hath cut those pretty fingers off, That could have better sewd than Philomel. O had the monster seen those lily hands Tremble, like aspen-leaves, upon a lute, And make the silken strings delight to kiss them, He would not, then, have touchd them for his life, Or had he heard the heavenly harmony Which that sweet tongue hath made, He would have droppd his knife, and fell asleep, As Cerberus at the Thracian poets feet. Come, let us go, and make thy father blind, For such a sight will blind a fathers eye One hours storm will drown the fragrant meads, What will whole months of tears thy fathers eyes? Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee O could our mourning ease thy misery.
LUCIUS  O noble father, you lament in vain The tribunes hear you not, no man is by, And you recount your sorrows to a stone.
TITUS  Ah Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead. Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you,—
LUCIUS  My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak.
Rises.  But wherefore standst thou with thy weapon drawn?
LUCIUS  To rescue my two brothers from their death, For which attempt the judges have pronouncd My everlasting doom of banishment.
TITUS  O happy man they have befriended thee. Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers? Tigers must prey, and Rome affords no prey But me and mine how happy art thou then, From these devourers to be banished But who comes with our brother Marcus here?
MARCUS  Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep, Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break I bring consuming sorrow to thine age.
TITUS  Will it consume me? let me see it then.
MARCUS  This was thy daughter.
TITUS  Why, Marcus, so she is.
LUCIUS  Ay me this object kills me.
TITUS  Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon her. Speak, Lavinia, what accursed hand Hath made thee handless in thy fathers sight? What fool hath added water to the sea, Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy? My grief was at the height before thou camst, And now, like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds. Give me a sword, Ill chop off my hands too, For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain, And they have nursd this woe, in feeding life, In bootless prayer have they been held up, And they have servd me to effectless use Now all the service I require of them Is that the one will help to cut the other. Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands, For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain.
LUCIUS  Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyrd thee?
MARCUS  O that delightful engine of her thoughts, That blabbd them with such pleasing eloquence, Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage, Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear.
LUCIUS  O say thou for her, who hath done this deed?
MARCUS  O thus I found her straying in the park, Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer, That hath receivd some unrecuring wound.
TITUS  It was my dear, and he that wounded her Hath hurt me more than had he killd me dead For now I stand as one upon a rock Environd with a wilderness of sea, Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, Expecting ever when some envious surge Will in his brinish bowels swallow him. This way to death my wretched sons are gone, Here stands my other son, a banishd man, And here my brother, weeping at my woes But that which gives my soul the greatest spurn, Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul. Had I but seen thy picture in this plight It would have madded me what shall I do Now I behold thy lively body so? Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy tears, Nor tongue to tell me who hath martyrd thee Thy husband he is dead, and for his death Thy brothers are condemnd, and dead by this. Look Marcus, ah son Lucius, look on her When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey-dew Upon a gatherd lily almost witherd.
MARCUS  Perchance she weeps because they killd her husband, Perchance because she knows them innocent.
TITUS  If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful, Because the law hath taen revenge on them. No, no, they would not do so foul a deed, Witness the sorrow that their sister makes. Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips, Or make some sign how I may do thee ease. Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius, And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain, Looking all downwards, to behold our cheeks How they are staind, like meadows yet not dry, With miry alime left on them by a flood? And in the fountain shall we gaze so long Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness, And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears? Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine? Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows Pass the remainder of our hateful days? What shall we do? let us, that have our tongues, Plot some device of further misery, To make us wonderd at in time to come.
LUCIUS  Sweet father, cease your tears, for at your grief See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps.
MARCUS  Patience, dear niece. Good Titus, dry thine eyes.
TITUS  Ah Marcus, Marcus, brother, well I wot Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine, For thou, poor man, hast drownd it with thine own.
LUCIUS  Ah my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks.
TITUS  Mark, Marcus, mark I understand her signs Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say That to her brother which I said to thee His napkin, with his true tears all bewet, Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks. O what a sympathy of woe is this, As far from help as limbo is from bliss.
AARON  Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor Sends thee this word that, if thou love thy sons, Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus, Or any one of you, chop off your hand, And send it to the king he for the same Will send thee hither both thy sons alive, And that shall be the ransom for their fault.
TITUS  O gracious emperor O gentle Aaron Did ever raven sing so like a lark, That gives sweet tidings of the suns uprise? With all my heart, Ill send the emperor my hand Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off?
LUCIUS  Stay, father for that noble hand of thine, That hath thrown down so many enemies, Shall not be sent, my hand will serve the turn My youth can better spare my blood than you, And therefore mine shall save my brothers lives.
MARCUS  Which of your hands hath not defended Rome, And reard aloft the bloody battle-axe, Writing destruction on the enemys castle? O none of both but are of high desert My hand hath been but idle, let it serve To ransom my two nephews from their death, Then have I kept it to a worthy end.
AARON  Nay, come, agree whose hand shall go along, For fear they die before their pardon come.
MARCUS  My hand shall go.
LUCIUS  By heaven, it shall not go
TITUS  Sirs, strive no more such witherd herbs as these Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine.
LUCIUS  Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son, Let me redeem my brothers both from death.
MARCUS  And for our fathers sake, and mothers care, Now let me show a brothers love to thee.
TITUS  Agree between you, I will spare my hand.
LUCIUS  Then Ill go fetch an axe.
MARCUS  But I will use the axe.
TITUS  Come hither, Aaron, Ill deceive them both Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine.
TITUS  Now stay your strife what shall be is dispatchd. Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand Tell him it was a hand that warded him From thousand dangers, bid him bury it, More hath it merited, that let it have. As for my sons, say I account of them As jewels purchasd at an easy price, And yet dear too, because I bought mine own.
Aside.  Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it. Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace, Aaron will have his soul black like his face.
MARCUS  O brother, speak with possibilities, And do not break into these deep extremes.
TITUS  Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom? Then be my passions bottomless with them.
MARCUS  But yet let reason govern thy lament.
TITUS  If there were reason for these miseries, Then into limits could I bind my woes. When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth oerflow? If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, Threatning the welkin with his big-swoln face? And wilt thou have a reason for this coil? I am the sea, hark how her sighs do blow, She is the weeping welkin, I the earth Then must my sea be moved with her sighs, Then must my earth with her continual tears Become a deluge, overflowd and drownd, For why my bowels cannot hide her woes, But like a drunkard must I vomit them. Then give me leave, for losers will have leave To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues.
MESSENGER  Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid For that good hand thou sentst the emperor. Here are the heads of thy two noble sons, And heres thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mockd, That woe is me to think upon thy woes, More than remembrance of my fathers death.
MARCUS  Now let hot Ætna cool in Sicily, And be my heart an ever burning hell These miseries are more than may be borne. To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal, But sorrow flouted at is double death.
LUCIUS  Ah that this sight should make so deep a wound, And yet detested life not shrink thereat, That ever death should let life bear his name, Where life hath no more interest but to breathe.
MARCUS  Alas poor heart, that kiss is comfortless As frozen water to a starved snake.
TITUS  When will this fearful slumber have an end?
MARCUS  Now, farewell, flattery die, Andronicus, Thou dost not slumber see, thy two sons heads, Thy war-like hand, thy mangled daughter here, Thy other banishd son, with this dear sight Struck pale and bloodless, and thy brother, I, Even like a stony image, cold and numb. Ah now no more will I control thy griefs. Rent off thy silver hair, thy other hand Gnawing with thy teeth, and be this dismal sight The closing up of our most wretched eyes Now is a time to storm, why art thou still?
TITUS  Ha, ha, ha
MARCUS  Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this hour.
TITUS  Why, I have not another tear to shed Besides, this sorrow is an enemy, And would usurp upon my watery eyes, And make them blind with tributary tears Then which way shall I find Revenges cave? For these two heads do seem to speak to me, And threat me I shall never come to bliss Till all these mischiefs be returnd again Even in their throats that have committed them. Come, let me see what task I have to do. You heavy people, circle me about, That I may turn me to each one of you, And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs. The vow is made. Come, brother, take a head, And in this hand the other will I bear. Lavinia, thou shalt be employd in these things Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy teeth. As for thee, boy, go get thee from my sight, Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there And if you love me, as I think you do, Lets kiss and part, for we have much to do.
LUCIUS  Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father, The woefullst man that ever livd in Rome Farewell, proud Rome, till Lucius come again, He leaves his pledges dearer than his life. Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister, O would thou wert as thou tofore hast been, But now nor Lucius nor Lavinia lives But in oblivion and hateful griefs. If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs, And make proud Saturnine and his empress Beg at the gates like Tarquin and his queen. Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power, To be revengd on Rome and Saturnine.
MARCUS  Fie, brother, fie teach her not thus to lay Such violent hands upon her tender life.
TITUS  How now has sorrow made thee dote already? Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I. What violent hands can she lay on her life? Ah wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands, To bid Æaeas tell the tale twice oer, How Troy was burnt and he made miserable? O handle not the theme, to talk of hands, Lest we remember still that we have none. Fie, fie how franticly I square my talk, As if we should forget we had no hands, If Marcus did not name the word of hands. Come, lets fall to, and, gentle girl, eat this Here is no drink. Hark, Marcus, what she says, I can interpret all her martyrd signs She says she drinks no other drink but tears, Brewd with her sorrow, mashd upon her cheeks. Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought, In thy dumb action will I be as perfect As begging hermits in their holy prayers Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven, Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign, But I of these will wrest an alphabet, And by still practice learn to know thy meaning.
BOY  Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale.
MARCUS  Alas the tender boy, in passion movd, Doth weep to see his grandsires heaviness.
MARCUS  At that that I have killd, my lord, a fly.
TITUS  Out on thee, murderer thou killst my heart, Mine eyes are cloyd with view of tyranny A deed of death, done on the innocent, Becomes not Titus brother. Get thee gone, I see, thou art not for my company.
MARCUS  Alas my lord, I have but killd a fly.
TITUS  But how if that fly had a father and a mother? How would he hang his slender gilded wings And buzz lamenting doings in the air Poor harmless fly, That, with his pretty buzzing melody, Came here to make us merry and thou hast killd him.
MARCUS  Pardon me, sir, it was a black ill-favourd fly, Like to the empress Moor, therefore I killd him.
TITUS  O, O, O Then pardon me for reprehending thee, For thou hast done a charitable deed. Give me thy knife, I will insult on him, Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor Come hither purposely to poison me. Theres for thyself, and thats for Tamora. Ah sirrah. Yet I think we are not brought so low, But that between us we can kill a fly That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor.
MARCUS  Alas poor man, grief has so wrought on him, He takes false shadows for true substances.
TITUS  Come, take away. Lavinia, go with me Ill to thy closet, and go read with thee Sad stories chanced in the times of old. Come, boy, and go with me thy sight is young, And thou shalt read when mine begins to dazzle.
BOY  Help, grandsire, help my aunt Lavinia Follows me everywhere, I know not why Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes Alas sweet aunt, I know not what you mean.
MARCUS  Stand by me, Lucius, do not fear thine aunt.
TITUS  She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm.
BOY  Ay, when my father was in Rome, she did.
MARCUS  What means my niece Lavinia by these signs?
TITUS  Fear her not, Lucius somewhat doth she mean. See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee, Somewhither would she have thee go with her. Ah boy, Cornelia never with more care Read to her sons, than she hath read to thee Sweet poetry and Tullys Orator.
MARCUS  Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus?
BOY  My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess, Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her, For I have heard my grandsire say full oft, Extremity of griefs would make men mad, And I have read that Hecuba of Troy Ran mad through sorrow, that made me to fear, Although, my lord, I know my noble aunt Loves me as dear as eer my mother did, And would not, but in fury, fright my youth, Which made me down to throw my books and fly, Causeless, perhaps. But pardon me, sweet aunt, And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go, I will most willingly attend your ladyship.
MARCUS  Lucius, I will.
TITUS  How now, Lavinia Marcus, what means this? Some book there is that she desires to see. Which is it, girl, of these? Open them, boy. But thou art deeper read, and better skilld, Come, and take choice of all my library, And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens Reveal the damnd contriver of this deed. Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus?
MARCUS  I think she means that there was more than one Confederate in the fact ay, more there was, Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge.
TITUS  Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so?
BOY  Grandsire, tis Ovids Metamorphoses, My mother gave it me.
MARCUS  For love of her thats gone, Perhaps, she culld it from among the rest.
MARCUS  See, brother, see note how she quotes the leaves.
TITUS  Lavinia, wert thou thus surprisd, sweet girl, Ravishd and wrongd, as Philomela was, Forcd in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods? See, see Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt,— O had we never, never hunted there,— Patternd by that the poet here describes, By nature made for murders and for rapes.
MARCUS  O why should nature build so foul a den, Unless the gods delight in tragedies?
TITUS  Give signs, sweet girl, for here are none but friends, What Roman lord it was durst do the deed Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst, That left the camp to sin in Lucrece bed?
TITUS  O do you read, my lord, what she hath writ? Stuprum, Chiron, Demetrius.
MARCUS  What, what the lustful sons of Tamora Performers of this heinous, bloody deed?
TITUS  Magni dominator poli, Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides?
MARCUS  O calm thee, gentle lord, although I know There is enough written upon this earth To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts And arm the minds of infants to exclaims. My lord, kneel down with me, Lavinia, kneel, And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hectors hope, And swear with me, as, with the woeful fere And father of that chaste dishonourd dame, Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece rape, That we will prosecute by good advice Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths, And see their blood, or die with this reproach.
TITUS  Tis sure enough, an you knew how, But if you hunt these bear-whelps, then beware The dam will wake, an if she wind you once Shes with the lion deeply still in league, And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back, And when he sleeps will she do what she list. Youre a young huntsman, Marcus, let it alone, And, come, I will go get a leaf of brass, And with a gad of steel will write these words, And lay it by the angry northern wind Will blow these sands like Sibyls leaves abroad, And wheres your lesson then? Boy, what say you?
BOY  I say, my lord, that if I were a man, Their mothers bed-chamber should not be safe For these bad bondmen to the yoke of Rome.
MARCUS  Ay, thats my boy thy father hath full oft For his ungrateful country done the like.
BOY  And, uncle, so will I, an if I live.
TITUS  Come, go with me into mine armoury Lucius, Ill fit thee, and withal my boy Shall carry from me to the empress sons Presents that I intend to send them both Come, come, thoult do thy message, wilt thou not?
BOY  Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grandsire.
TITUS  No, boy, not so, Ill teach thee another course. Lavinia, come. Marcus, look to my house, Lucius and Ill go brave it at the court Ay, marry, will we, sir, and well be waited on.
MARCUS  O heavens can you hear a good man groan, And not relent or not compassion him? Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy, That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart Than foemens marks upon his batterd shield, But yet so just that he will not revenge. Revenge, ye heavens, for old Andronicus
CHIRON  Demetrius, heres the son of Lucius, He hath some message to deliver us.
AARON  Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather.
DEMETRIUS  Gramercy, lovely Lucius whats the news?
Reads.  Non eget Mauri jaculis, nec arcu.
CHIRON  O tis a verse in Horace, I know it well I read it in the grammar long ago.
DEMETRIUS  But me more good, to see so great a lord Basely insinuate and send us gifts.
AARON  Had he not reason, Lord Demetrius? Did you not use his daughter very friendly?
DEMETRIUS  I would we had a thousand Roman dames At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust.
CHIRON  A charitable wish and full of love.
AARON  Here lacks but your mother for to say amen.
CHIRON  And that would she for twenty thousand more.
DEMETRIUS  Come, let us go and pray to all the gods For our beloved mother in her pains.
DEMETRIUS  Why do the emperors trumpets flourish thus?
CHIRON  Belike, for joy the emperor hath a son.
DEMETRIUS  Soft who comes here?
NURSE  Good morrow, lords. O tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor?
AARON  Well, more or less, or neer a whit at all, Here Aaron is, and what with Aaron now?
NURSE  O gentle Aaron we are all undone. Now help, or woe betide thee evermore
AARON  Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms?
NURSE  O that which I would hide from heavens eye, Our empress shame, and stately Romes disgrace She is deliverd, lords, she is deliverd.
AARON  To whom?
NURSE  I mean, shes brought a-bed.
AARON  Well, God give her good rest What hath he sent her?
NURSE  A devil.
AARON  Why, then shes the devils dam a joyful issue.
NURSE  A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue. Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime. The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal, And bids thee christen it with thy daggers point.
AARON  Zounds, ye whore is black so base a hue? Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom, sure.
DEMETRIUS  Villain, what hast thou done?
AARON  That which thou canst not undo.
CHIRON  Thou hast undone our mother.
AARON  Villain, I have done thy mother.
DEMETRIUS  And therein, hellish dog, thou hast undone. Woe to her chance, and damnd her loathed choice Accursd the offspring of so foul a fiend
CHIRON  It shall not live.
AARON  It shall not die.
NURSE  Aaron, it must, the mother wills it so.
AARON  What must it, nurse? then let no man but I Do execution on my flesh and blood.
DEMETRIUS  Ill broach the tadpole on my rapiers point Nurse, give it me, my sword shall soon dispatch it.
DEMETRIUS  Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus?
AARON  My mistress is my mistress, this myself, The vigour, and the picture of my youth This before all the world do I prefer, This maugre all the world will I keep safe, Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome.
DEMETRIUS  By this our mother is for ever shamd.
CHIRON  Rome will despise her for this foul escape.
NURSE  The emperor in his rage will doom her death.
CHIRON  I blush to think upon this ignomy.
AARON  Why, theres the privilege your beauty bears. Fie, treacherous hue that will betray with blushing The close enacts and counsels of the heart Heres a young lad framd of another leer Look how the black slavesmiles upon the father, As who should say, Old lad, I am thine own. He is your brother, lords, sensibly fed Of that self blood that first gave life to you, And from that womb where you imprisond were He is enfranchised and come to light Nay, he is your brother by the surer side, Although my seal be stamped in his face.
NURSE  Aaron, what shall I say unto the empress?
DEMETRIUS  Advise thee, Aaron, what is to be done, And we will all subscribe to thy advice Save thou the child, so we may all be safe.
AARON  Then sit we down, and let us all consult, My son and I will have the wind of you Keep there, now talk at pleasure of your safety.
DEMETRIUS  How many women saw this child of his?
AARON  Why, so, brave lords when we join in league, I am a lamb, but if you brave the Moor, The chafed boar, the mountain lioness, The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms. But say, again, how many saw the child?
NURSE  Cornelia the midwife, and myself, And no one else but the deliverd empress.
DEMETRIUS  What meanst thou, Aaron? Wherefore didst thou this?
CHIRON  Aaron, I see thou wilt not trust the air With secrets.
DEMETRIUS  For this care of Tamora, Herself and hers are highly hound to thee.
AARON  Now to the Goths, as swift as swallow flies There to dispose this treasure in mine arms, And secretly to greet the empress friends. Come on, you thick-lippd slave, Ill bear you hence, For it is you that puts us to our shifts Ill make you feed on berries and on roots, And feed on curds and whey, and suck the goat, And cabin in a cave, and bring you up To be a warrior, and command a camp.
TITUS  Come, Marcus, come, kinsmen, this is the way. Sir boy, now let me see your archery Look ye draw home enough, and tis there straight. Terras Astræa reliquit Be you rememberd, Marcus, shes gone, shes fled. Sirs, take you to your tools. You, cousins, shall Go sound the ocean, and cast your nets, Happily you may find her in the sea, Yet theres as little justice as at land. No, Publius and Sempronius, you must do it, Tis you must dig with mattock and with spade, And pierce the inmost centre of the earth Then, when you come to Plutos region, I pray you, deliver him this petition, Tell him, it is for justice and for aid, And that it comes from old Andronicus, Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome. Ah Rome. Well, well, I made thee miserable What time I threw the peoples suffrages On him that thus doth tyrannize oer me. Go, get you gone, and pray be careful all, And leave you not a man-of-war unsearchd This wicked emperor may have shippd her hence, And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice.
MARCUS  O Publius is not this a heavy case, To see thy noble uncle thus distract?
PUBLIUS  Therefore, my lord, it highly us concerns By day and night to attend him carefully, And feed his humour kindly as we may, Till time beget some careful remedy.
MARCUS  Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy. Join with the Goths, and with revengeful war Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude, And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine.
TITUS  Publius, how now how now, my masters What have you met with her?
PUBLIUS  No, my good lord, but Pluto sends you word, If you will have Revenge from hell, you shall Marry, for Justice, she is so employd, He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or somewhere else, So that perforce you must needs stay a time.
MARCUS  Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court We will afflict the emperor in his pride.
MARCUS  My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon, Your letter is with Jupiter by this.
TITUS  Ha Publius, Publius, what hast thou done? See, see thou hast shot off one of Taurus horns.
MARCUS  This was the sport, my lord when Publius shot, The Bull, being galld, gave Aries such a knock That down fell both the Rams horns in the court, And who should find them but the empress villain? She laughd, and told the Moor, he should not choose But give them to his master for a present.
CLOWN  O tho gibbet-maker? He says that he hath taken them down again, for the man must not be hanged till the next week.
TITUS  But what says Jupiter, I ask thee?
CLOWN  Alas sir, I know not Jupiter, I never drank with him in all my life.
TITUS  Why, villain, art not thou the carrier?
CLOWN  Ay, of my pigeons, sir, nothing else.
TITUS  Why, didst thou not come from heaven?
CLOWN  From heaven alas sir, I never came there. God forbid I should be so bold to press to heaven in my young days. Why, I am going with my pigeons to the tribunal plebs, to take up a matter of brawl betwixt my uncle and one of the emperials men.
MARCUS  Why, sir, that is as fit as can be to serve for your oration, and let him deliver the pigeons to the emperor from you.
TITUS  Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the emperor with a grace?
CLOWN  Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in all my life.
TITUS  Sirrah, come hither make no more ado, But give your pigeons to the emperor By me thou shalt have justice at his hands. Hold, hold, meanwhile, heres money for thy charges. Give me pen and ink. Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a supplication?
CLOWN  Ay, sir.
TITUS  Then here is a supplication for you. And when you come to him, at the first approach you must kneel, then kiss his foot, then deliver up your pigeons, and then look for your reward. Ill be at hand, sir, see you do it bravely.
CLOWN  I warrant you, sir, let me alone.
TITUS  Sirrah, hast thou a knife? Come, let me see it. Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration, For thou hast made it like a humble suppliant And when thou hast given it to the emperor, Knock at my door, and tell me what he says.
CLOWN  God be with you, sir, I will.
TITUS  Come, Marcus, let us go. Publius, follow me.
SATURNINUS  Why, lords, what wrongs are these Was ever seen An emperor of Rome thus overborne, Troubled, confronted thus, and, for the extent Of egal justice, usd in such contempt? My lords, you know, as do the mightful gods,— However these disturbers of our peace Buzz in the peoples ears,—there nought hath passd, But even with law, against the wilful sons Of old Andronicus. And what an if His sorrows have so overwhelmd his wits, Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks, His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness? And now he writes to heaven for his redress See, heres to Jove, and this to Mercury, This to Apollo, this to the god of war, Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome Whats this but libelling against the senate, And blazoning our injustice every where? A goodly humour, is it not, my lords? As who would say, in Rome no justice were. But if I live, his feigned ecstasies Shall be no shelter to these outrages, But he and his shall know that justice lives In Saturninus health, whom, if she sleep, Hell so awake, as she in fury shall Cut off the proudst conspirator that lives.
Aside.  High-witted Tamora to gloze with all But, Titus, I have touchd thee to the quick, Thy life-blood out if Aaron now be wise, Then is all safe, the anchors in the port.
CLOWN  Yea, forsooth, an your mistership be emperial.
TAMORA  Empress I am, but yonder sits the emperor.
CLOWN  Tis he. God and Saint Stephen give you good den. I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here.
SATURNINUS  Go, take him away, and hang him presently.
CLOWN  How much money must I have?
TAMORA  Come, sirrah, you must be hanged.
CLOWN  Hanged By r, lady, then I have brought up a neck to a fair end.
SATURNINUS  Despiteful and intolerable wrongs Shall I endure this monstrous villany? I know from whence this same device proceeds May this be borne? As if his traitorous sons, That died by law for murder of our brother, Have by my means been butcherd wrongfully Go, drag the villain hither by the hair, Nor age nor honour shall shape privilege. For this proud mock Ill be thy slaughterman, Sly frantic wretch, that holpst to make me great, In hope thyself should govern Rome and me.
ÆMILIUS  Arm, arm, my lord Rome never had more cause. The Goths have gatherd head, and with a power Of high-resolved men, bent to the spoil, They hither march amain, under conduct Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus, Who threats, in course of this revenge, to do As much as ever Coriolanus did.
SATURNINUS  Is war-like Lucius general of the Goths? These tidings nip me, and I hang the head As flowers with frost or grass beat down with storms. Ay, now begin our sorrows to approach Tis he the common people love so much, Myself hath often heard them say, When I have walked like a private man, That Lucius banishment was wrongfully, And they have wishd that Lucius were their emperor.
TAMORA  Why should you fear? is not your city strong?
SATURNINUS  Ay, but the citizens favour Lucius, And will revolt from me to succour him.
TAMORA  King, be thy thoughts imperious, like thy name. Is the sun dimmd, that gnats do fly in it? The eagle suffers little birds to sing, And is not careful what they mean thereby, Knowing that with the shadow of his wings He can at pleasure stint their melody, Even so mayst thou the giddy men of Rome. Then cheer thy spirit, for know, thou emperor, I will enchant the old Andronicus With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous, Than baits to fish, or honey-stalks to sheep, Whenas the one is wounded with the bait, The other rotted with delicious feed.
SATURNINUS  But he will not entreat his son for us.
SATURNINUS  Æmilius, do this message honourably And if he stand on hostage for his safety, Bid him demand what pledge will please him best.
ÆMILIUS  Your bidding shall I do effectually.
TAMORA  Now will I to that old Andronicus, And temper him with all the art I have, To pluck proud Lucius from the war-like Goths. And now, sweet emperor, be blithe again, And bury all thy fear in my devices.
SATURNINUS  Then go successantly, and plead to him.
LUCIUS  Approved warriors, and my faithful friends, I have received letters from great Rome, Which signify what hate they bear their emperor, And how desirous of our sight they are. Therefore, great lords, be, as your titles witness, Imperious and impatient of your wrongs, And wherein Rome hath done you any scath, Let him make treble satisfaction.
GOTH1  Brave slip, sprung from the great Andronicus, Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort, Whose high exploits and honourable deeds Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt, Be bold in us well follow where thou leadst, Like stinging bees in hottest summers day Led by their master to the flowerd fields, And be avengd on cursed Tamora.
GOTHS  And, as he saith, so say we all with him.
LUCIUS  I humbly thank him, and I thank you all. But who comes here, led by a lusty Goth?
GOTH2  Renowned Lucius, from our troops I strayd, To gaze upon a ruinous monastery, And as I earnestly did fix mine eye Upon the wasted building, suddenly I heard a child cry underneath a wall. I made unto the noise, when soon I heard The crying babe controlld with this discourse Peace, tawny slave, half me and half thy dam Did not thy hue bewray whose brat thou art, Had nature lent thee but thy mothers look, Villain, thou mightst have been an emperor But where the bull and cow are both milk-white, They never do beget a coal-black calf. Peace, villain, peace—even thus he rates the babe,— For I must bear thee to a trusty Goth, Who, when he knows thou art the empress babe, Will hold thee dearly for thy mothers sake. With this, my weapon drawn, I rushd upon him, Surprisd him suddenly, and brought him hither, To use as you think needful of the man.
LUCIUS  O worthy Goth, this is the incarnate devil That robbd Andronicus of his good hand This is the pearl that pleasd your empress eye, And heres the base fruit of his burning lust. Say, wall-eyd slave, whither wouldst thou convey This growing image of thy fiend-like face? Why dost not speak? What deaf? not a word? A halter, soldiers hang him on this tree, And by his side his fruit of bastardy.
AARON  Touch not the boy, he is of royal blood.
LUCIUS  Too like the sire for ever being good. First hang the child, that he may see it sprawl, A sight to vex the fathers soul withal. Get me a ladder.
AARON  Lucius, save the child, And bear it from me to the empress. If thou do this, Ill show thee wondrous things, That highly may advantage thee to hear If thou wilt not, befall what may befall, Ill speak no more but Vengeance rot you all
LUCIUS  Say on, and if it please me which thou speakst, Thy child shall live, and I will see it nourishd.
AARON  An if it please thee why, assure thee, Lucius, Twill vexthy soul to hear what I shall speak, For I must talk of murders, rapes, and massacres, Acts of black night, abominable deeds, Complots of mischief, treason, villanies Ruthful to hear, yet piteously performd And this shall all be buried by my death, Unless thou swear to me my child shall live.
LUCIUS  Tell on thy mind I say, thy child shall live.
AARON  Swear that he shall, and then I will begin.
LUCIUS  Who should I swear by? thou believst no god That granted, how canst thou believe an oath?
AARON  What if I do not? as, indeed, I do not, Yet, for I know thou art religious, And hast a thing within thee called conscience, With twenty popish tricks and ceremonies, Which I have seen thee careful to observe, Therefore I urge thy oath, for that I know An idiot holds his bauble for a god, And keeps the oath which by that god he swears, To that Ill urge him therefore thou shalt vow By that same god, what god soeer it be, That thou adorst and hast in reverence, To save my boy, to nourish and bring him up Or else I will discover nought to thee.
LUCIUS  Even by my god I swear to thee I will.
AARON  First, know thou, I begot him on the empress.
LUCIUS  O most insatiate and luxurious woman
AARON  Tut Lucius, this was but a deed of charity To that which thou shalt hear of me anon. Twas her two sons that murderd Bassianus, They cut thy sisters tongue and ravishd her, And cut her hands and trimmd her as thou sawst.
LUCIUS  O detestable villain callst thou that trimming?
AARON  Why, she was washd, and cut, and trimmd, and twas Trim sport for them that had the doing of it.
LUCIUS  O barbarous, beastly villains, like thyself
AARON  Indeed, I was their tutor to instruct them. That codding spirit had they from their mother, As sure a card as ever won the set, That bloody mind, I think, they learnd of me As true a dog as ever fought at head. Well, let my deeds be witness of my worth. I traind thy brethren to that guileful hole Where the dead corpse of Bassianus lay, I wrote the letter that thy father found, And hid the gold within the letter mentiond, Confederate with the queen and her two sons And what not done, that thou hast cause to rue, Wherein I had no stroke of mischief in it? I playd the cheater for thy fathers hand, And, when I had it, drew myself apart, And almost broke my heart with extreme laughter. I pryd me through the crevice of a wall When, for his hand, he had his two sons heads, Beheld his tears, and laughd so heartily, That both mine eyes were rainy like to his And when I told the empress of this sport, She swounded almost at my pleasing tale, And for my tidings gave me twenty kisses.
GOTH1  What canst thou say all this, and never blush?
AARON  Ay, like a black dog, as the saying is.
LUCIUS  Art thou not sorry for these heinous deeds?
AARON  Ay, that I had not done a thousand more. Even now I curse the day, and yet, I think, Few come within the compass of my curse, Wherein I did not some notorious ill As kill a man, or else devise his death, Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it, Accuse some innocent, and forswear myself, Set deadly enmity between two friends, Make poor mens cattle break their necks, Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night, And bid the owners quench them with their tears, Oft have I diggd up dead men from their graves, And set them upright at their dear friends doors, Even when their sorrows almost were forgot, And on their skins, as on the bark of trees, Have with my knife carved in Roman letters, Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead. Tut I have done a thousand dreadful things As willingly as one would kill a fly, And nothing grieves me heartily indeed But that I cannot do ten thousand more.
LUCIUS  Bring down the devil, for he must not die So sweet a death as hanging presently.
AARON  If there be devils, would I were a devil, To live and burn in everlasting fire, So I might have your company in hell, But to torment you with my bitter tongue
LUCIUS  Sirs, stop his mouth, and let him speak no more.
GOTH  My lord, there is a messenger from Rome Desires to be admitted to your presence.
LUCIUS  Let him come near.
ÆMILIUS  Lord Lucius, and you princes of the Goths, The Roman emperor greets you all by me, And, for he understands you are in arms, He craves a parley at your fathers house, Willing you to demand your hostages, And they shall be immediately deliverd.
GOTH1  What says our general?
LUCIUS  Æmilius, let the emperor give his pledges Unto my father and my uncle Marcus, And we will come. March away.
TITUS  Who doth molest my contemplation? Is it your trick to make me ope the door, That so my sad decrees may fly away, And all my study be to no effect? You are deceivd, for what I mean to do, See here, in bloody lines I have set down, And what is written shall be executed.
TAMORA  Titus, I am come to talk with thee.
TITUS  No, not a word, how can I grace my talk, Wanting a hand to give it action? Thou hast the odds of me, therefore no more.
TAMORA  If thou didst know me, thou wouldst talk with me.
TITUS  I am not mad, I know thee well enough Witness this wretched stump, witness these crimson lines, Witness these trenches made by grief and care, Witness the tiring day and heavy night, Witness all sorrow, that I know thee well For our proud empress, mighty Tamora. Is not thy coming for my other hand?
TAMORA  Know, thou sad man, I am not Tamora, She is thy enemy, and I thy friend I am Revenge, sent from the infernal kingdom, To ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind, By working wreakful vengeance on thy foes. Come down, and welcome me to this worlds light, Confer with me of murder and of death. Theres not a hollow cave or lurking-place, No vast obscurity or misty vale, Where bloody murder or detested rape Can couch for fear, but I will find them out, And in their ears tell them my dreadful name, Revenge, which makes the foul offender quake.
TITUS  Art thou Revenge? and art thou sent to me, To be a torment to mine enemies?
TAMORA  I am, therefore come down, and welcome me.
TITUS  Do me some service ere I come to thee. Lo, by thy side where Rape and Murder stands, Now give some surance that thou art Revenge Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot-wheels, And then Ill come and be thy waggoner, And whirl along with thee about the globe. Provide two proper palfreys, black as jet, To hale thy vengeful waggon swift away, And find out murderers in their guilty caves And when thy car is loaden with their heads, I will dismount, and by the waggon-wheel Trot like a servile footman all day long, Even from Hyperions rising in the east Until his very downfall in the sea And day by day Ill do this heavy task, So thou destroy Rapine and Murder there.
TAMORA  These are my ministers, and come with me.
TITUS  Are these thy ministers? what are they calld?
TAMORA  Rapine and Murder, therefore called so, Cause they take vengeance of such kind of men.
TITUS  Good Lord, how like the empress sons they are, And you the empress but we worldly men Have miserable, mad, mistaking eyes. O sweet Revenge now do I come to thee, And, if one arms embracement will content thee, I will embrace thee in it by and by.
TAMORA  This closing with him fits his lunacy. Whateer I forge to feed his brain-sick fits, Do you uphold and maintain in your speeches, For now he firmly takes me for Revenge, And, being credulous in this mad thought, Ill make him send for Lucius his son, And, whilst I at a banquet hold him sure, Ill find some cunning practice out of hand To scatter and disperse the giddy Goths, Or, at the least, make them his enemies. See, here he comes, and I must ply my theme.
TITUS  Long have I been forlorn, and all for thee Welcome, dread Fury, to my woeful house Rapine and Murder, you are welcome too. How like the empress and her sons you are Well are you fitted had you but a Moor Could not all hell afford you such a devil? For well I wot the empress never wags But in her company there is a Moor, And would you represent our queen aright, It were convenient you had such a devil. But welcome as you are. What shall we do?
TAMORA  What wouldst thou have us do, Andronicus?
DEMETRIUS  Show me a murderer, Ill deal with him.
CHIRON  Show me a villain that hath done a rape, And I am sent to be revengd on him.
TAMORA  Show me a thousand that have done thee wrong, And I will be revenged on them all.
TITUS  Look round about the wicked streets of Rome, And when thou findst a man thats like thyself, Good Murder, stab him, hes a murderer. Go thou with him, and when it is thy hap To find another that is like to thee, Good Rapine, stab him, hes a ravisher. Go thou with them, and in the emperors court There is a queen attended by a Moor, Well mayst thou know her by thy own proportion, For up and down she doth resemble thee I pray thee, do on them some violent death, They have been violent to me and mine.
TAMORA  Well hast thou lessond us, this shall we do. But would it please thee, good Andronicus, To send for Lucius, thy thrice-valiant son, Who leads towards Rome a band of war-like Goths, And bid him come and banquet at thy house When he is here, even at thy solemn feast, I will bring in the empress and her sons, The emperor himself, and all thy foes, And at thy mercy shall they stoop and kneel, And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart. What says Andronicus to this device?
MARCUS  This will I do, and soon return again.
TAMORA  Now will I hence about thy business, And take my ministers along with me.
TITUS  Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with me, Or else Ill call my brother back again, And cleave to no revenge but Lucius.
Aside.  And will oer-reach them in their own devices, A pair of cursed hell-hounds and their dam.
TAMORA  Farewell, Andronicus Revenge now goes To lay a complot to betray thy foes.
TITUS  I know thou dost, and, sweet Revenge, farewell.
CHIRON  Tell us, old man, how shall we be employd?
TITUS  Tut I have work enough for you to do. Publius, come hither, Caius, and Valentine
PUBLIUS  What is your will?
TITUS  Know you these two?
PUBLIUS  The empress sons, I take them, Chiron and Demetrius.
TITUS  Fie, Publius, fie thou art too much deceivd, The one is Murder, Rape is the others name, And therefore bind them, gentle Publius, Caius and Valentine, lay hands on them, Oft have you heard me wish for such an hour, And now I find it therefore bind them sure, And stop their mouths, if they begin to cry.
CHIRON  Villains, forbear we are the empress sons.
PUBLIUS  And therefore do we what we are commanded. Stop close their mouths, let them not speak a word. Is he sure bound? look that you bind them fast.
LUCIUS  Uncle Marcus, since it is my fathers mind That I repair to Rome, I am content.
GOTH1  And ours with thine, befall what fortune will.
LUCIUS  Good uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor, This ravenous tiger, this accursed devil, Let him receive no sustenance, fetter him, Till he be brought unto the empress face, For testimony of her foul proceedings And see the ambush of our friends be strong, I fear the emperor means no good to us.
AARON  Some devil whisper curses in mine ear, And prompt me, that my tongue may utter forth The venomous malice of my swelling heart
LUCIUS  Away, inhuman dog unhallowd slave Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in. The trumpets show the emperor is at hand.
SATURNINUS  What hath the firmament more suns than one?
LUCIUS  What boots it thee, to call thyself a sun?
MARCUS  Romes emperor, and nephew, break the parle, These quarrels must be quietly debated. The feast is ready which the careful Titus Hath ordaind to an honourable end, For peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome Please you, therefore, draw nigh, and take your places.
TITUS  Welcome, my gracious lord, welcome, dread queen, Welcome, ye war-like Goths, welcome, Lucius, And welcome, all. Although the cheer be poor, Twill fill your stomachs, please you eat of it.
SATURNINUS  Why art thou thus attird, Andronicus?
TITUS  Because I would be sure to have all well To entertain your highness, and your empress.
TAMORA  We are beholding to you, good Andronicus.
TITUS  An if your highness knew my heart, you were. My lord the emperor, resolve me this Was it well done of rash Virginius To slay his daughter with his own right hand, Because she was enforced, staind, and deflowerd?
SATURNINUS  It was, Andronicus.
TITUS  Your reason, mighty lord?
SATURNINUS  Because the girl should not survive her shame, And by her presence still renew his sorrows.
TITUS  A reason mighty, strong, and effectual, A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant, For me most wretched, to perform the like. Die, die. Lavinia, and thy shame with thee, And with thy shame thy fathers sorrow die
SATURNINUS  What hast thou done, unnatural and unkind?
TITUS  Killd her, for whom my tears have made me blind. I am as woeful as Virginius was, And have a thousand times more cause than he To do this outrage and it is now done.
SATURNINUS  What was she ravishd? tell who did the deed.
TITUS  Will t please you eat? will t please your highness feed?
TAMORA  Why hast thou slain thine only daughter thus?
TITUS  Not I, twas Chiron and Demetrius They ravishd her, and cut away her tongue And they, twas they, that did her all this wrong.
SATURNINUS  Go fetch them hither to us presently.
TITUS  Why, there they are both, baked in that pie, Whereof their mother daintily hath fed, Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred. Tis true, tis true, witness my knifes sharp point.
SATURNINUS  Die, frantic wretch, for this accursed deed
LUCIUS  Can the sons eye behold his father bleed? Theres meed for meed, death for a deadly deed
LUCIUS  Then, noble auditory, be it known to you, That cursed Chiron and Demetrius Were they that murdered our emperors brother, And they it was that ravished our sister. For their fell faults our brothers were beheaded, Our fathers tears despisd, and basely cozend Of that true hand that fought Romes quarrel out, And sent her enemies unto the grave Lastly, myself unkindly banished, The gates shut on me, and turnd weeping out, To beg relief among Romes enemies, Who drownd their enmity in my true tears, And opd their arms to embrace me as a friend And I am the turnd forth, be it known to you, That have preservd her welfare in my blood, And from her bosom took the enemys point, Sheathing the steel in my adventurous body. Alas you know I am no vaunter, I, My scars can witness, dumb although they are, That my report is just and full of truth. But, soft methinks I do digress too much, Citing my worthless praise O pardon me, For when no friends are by, men praise themselves.
MARCUS  Now is my turn to speak. Behold this child, Of this was Tamora delivered, The issue of an irreligious Moor, Chief architect and plotter of these woes. The villain is alive in Titus house, Damnd as he is, to witness this is true. Now judge what cause had Titus to revenge These wrongs, unspeakable, past patience, Or more than any living man could bear. Now you have heard the truth, what say you Romans? Have we done aught amiss, show us wherein, And, from the place where you behold us now, The poor remainder of Andronici Will, hand in hand, all headlong cast us down, And on the ragged stones beat forth our brains, And make a mutual closure of our house. Speak, Romans, speak and if you say we shall, Lo hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall.
ÆMILIUS  Come, come, thou reverend man of Rome, And bring our emperor gently in thy hand, Lucius, our emperor, for well I know The common voice do cry it shall be so.
ROMANS  Lucius, all hail Romes royal emperor
ROMANS  Lucius, all hail Romes gracious governor
MARCUS  Tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss, Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips O were the sum of these that I should pay Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them.
LUCIUS  Come hither, boy, come, come, and learn of us To melt in showers thy grandsire lovd thee well Many a time he dancd thee on his knee, Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow, Many a matter hath he told to thee, Meet and agreeing with thine infancy, In that respect, then, like a loving child, Shed yet some small drops from thy tender spring, Because kind nature doth require it so Friends should associate friends in grief and woe. Bid him farewell, commit him to the grave, Do him that kindness, and take leave of him.
BOY  O grandsire, grandsire even with all my heart Would I were dead, so you did live again. O Lord I cannot speak to him for weeping, My tears will choke me if I ope my mouth.
ROMAN1  You sad Andronici, have done with woes Give sentence on this execrable wretch, That hath been breeder of these dire events.
LUCIUS  Set him breast-deep in earth, and famish him, There let him stand, and rave, and cry for food If any one relieves or pities him, For the offence he dies. This is our doom Some stay to see him fastend in the earth.
AARON  O why should wrath be mute, and fury dumb? I am no baby, I, that with base prayers I should repent the evils I have done. Ten thousand worse than ever yet I did Would I perform, if I might have my will If one good deed in all my life I did, I do repent it from my very soul.
LUCIUS  Some loving friends convey the emperor hence, And give him burial in his fathers grave. My father and Lavinia shall forthwith Be closed in our households monument. As for that heinous tiger, Tamora, No funeral rite, nor man in mournful weeds, No mournful bell shall ring her burial, But throw her forth to beasts and birds of prey. Her life was beast-like, and devoid of pity, And, being so, shall have like want of pity. See justice done on Aaron, that damnd Moor, By whom our heavy haps had their beginning Then, afterwards, to order well the state, That like events may neer it ruinate.