ROMEO AND JULIET


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


ESCALUS	prince of Verona. (PRINCE:)

PARIS	a young nobleman, kinsman to the prince.


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


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

ROMEO	son to Montague.

MERCUTIO	kinsman to the prince, and friend to Romeo.

BENVOLIO	nephew to Montague, and friend to Romeo.

TYBALT	nephew to Lady Capulet.


FRIAR LAURENCE	|
	|  Franciscans.
FRIAR JOHN	|


BALTHASAR	servant to Romeo.


SAMPSON	|
	|  servants to Capulet.
GREGORY	|


PETER	servant to Juliet's nurse.

ABRAHAM	servant to Montague.

	An Apothecary. (Apothecary:)

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

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

LADY MONTAGUE	wife to Montague.

LADY CAPULET	wife to Capulet.

JULIET	daughter to Capulet.

	Nurse to Juliet. (Nurse:)

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


SCENE	Verona: Mantua.




	ROMEO AND JULIET

	PROLOGUE


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




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT I



SCENE I	Verona. A public place.


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

SAMPSON	Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals.

GREGORY	No, for then we should be colliers.

SAMPSON	I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw.

GREGORY	Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o' the collar.

SAMPSON	I strike quickly, being moved.

GREGORY	But thou art not quickly moved to strike.

SAMPSON	A dog of the house of Montague moves me.

GREGORY	To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand:
	therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away.

SAMPSON	A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will
	take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's.

GREGORY	That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes
	to the wall.

SAMPSON	True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels,
	are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push
	Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids
	to the wall.

GREGORY	The quarrel is between our masters and us their men.

SAMPSON	'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I
	have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the
	maids, and cut off their heads.

GREGORY	The heads of the maids?

SAMPSON	Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads;
	take it in what sense thou wilt.

GREGORY	They must take it in sense that feel it.

SAMPSON	Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and
	'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.

GREGORY	'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou
	hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool! here comes
	two of the house of the Montagues.

SAMPSON	My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee.

GREGORY	How! turn thy back and run?

SAMPSON	Fear me not.

GREGORY	No, marry; I fear thee!

SAMPSON	Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin.

GREGORY	I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as
	they list.

SAMPSON	Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them;
	which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.

	[Enter ABRAHAM and BALTHASAR]

ABRAHAM	Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

SAMPSON	I do bite my thumb, sir.

ABRAHAM	Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

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

GREGORY	No.

SAMPSON	No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I
	bite my thumb, sir.

GREGORY	Do you quarrel, sir?

ABRAHAM	Quarrel sir! no, sir.

SAMPSON	If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you.

ABRAHAM	No better.

SAMPSON	Well, sir.

GREGORY	Say 'better:' here comes one of my master's kinsmen.

SAMPSON	Yes, better, sir.

ABRAHAM	You lie.

SAMPSON	Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow.

	[They fight]

	[Enter BENVOLIO]

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

	[Beats down their swords]

	[Enter TYBALT]

TYBALT	What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?
	Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.

BENVOLIO	I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword,
	Or manage it to part these men with me.

TYBALT	What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word,
	As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee:
	Have at thee, coward!

	[They fight]

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

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

	[Enter CAPULET in his gown, and LADY CAPULET]

CAPULET	What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!

LADY CAPULET	A crutch, a crutch! why call you for a sword?

CAPULET	My sword, I say! Old Montague is come,
	And flourishes his blade in spite of me.

	[Enter MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE]

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

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

	[Enter PRINCE, with Attendants]

PRINCE	Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
	Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,--
	Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts,
	That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
	With purple fountains issuing from your veins,
	On pain of torture, from those bloody hands
	Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground,
	And hear the sentence of your moved prince.
	Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,
	By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,
	Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets,
	And made Verona's ancient citizens
	Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,
	To wield old partisans, in hands as old,
	Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate:
	If ever you disturb our streets again,
	Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
	For this time, all the rest depart away:
	You Capulet; shall go along with me:
	And, Montague, come you this afternoon,
	To know our further pleasure in this case,
	To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.
	Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.

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

MONTAGUE	Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?
	Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?

BENVOLIO	Here were the servants of your adversary,
	And yours, close fighting ere I did approach:
	I drew to part them: in the instant came
	The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared,
	Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears,
	He swung about his head and cut the winds,
	Who nothing hurt withal hiss'd him in scorn:
	While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,
	Came more and more and fought on part and part,
	Till the prince came, who parted either part.

LADY MONTAGUE	O, where is Romeo? saw you him to-day?
	Right glad I am he was not at this fray.

BENVOLIO	Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun
	Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,
	A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;
	Where, underneath the grove of sycamore
	That westward rooteth from the city's side,
	So early walking did I see your son:
	Towards him I made, but he was ware of me
	And stole into the covert of the wood:
	I, measuring his affections by my own,
	That most are busied when they're most alone,
	Pursued my humour not pursuing his,
	And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.

MONTAGUE	Many a morning hath he there been seen,
	With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew.
	Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs;
	But all so soon as the all-cheering sun
	Should in the furthest east begin to draw
	The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,
	Away from the light steals home my heavy son,
	And private in his chamber pens himself,
	Shuts up his windows, locks far daylight out
	And makes himself an artificial night:
	Black and portentous must this humour prove,
	Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

BENVOLIO	My noble uncle, do you know the cause?

MONTAGUE	I neither know it nor can learn of him.

BENVOLIO	Have you importuned him by any means?

MONTAGUE	Both by myself and many other friends:
	But he, his own affections' counsellor,
	Is to himself--I will not say how true--
	But to himself so secret and so close,
	So far from sounding and discovery,
	As is the bud bit with an envious worm,
	Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,
	Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.
	Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow.
	We would as willingly give cure as know.

	[Enter ROMEO]

BENVOLIO	See, where he comes: so please you, step aside;
	I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.

MONTAGUE	I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,
	To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away.

	[Exeunt MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE]

BENVOLIO	Good-morrow, cousin.

ROMEO	Is the day so young?

BENVOLIO	But new struck nine.

ROMEO	Ay me! sad hours seem long.
	Was that my father that went hence so fast?

BENVOLIO	It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?

ROMEO	Not having that, which, having, makes them short.

BENVOLIO	In love?

ROMEO	Out--

BENVOLIO	Of love?

ROMEO	Out of her favour, where I am in love.

BENVOLIO	Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,
	Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!

ROMEO	Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,
	Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!
	Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here?
	Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
	Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.
	Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
	O any thing, of nothing first create!
	O heavy lightness! serious vanity!
	Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
	Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire,
	sick health!
	Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!
	This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
	Dost thou not laugh?

BENVOLIO	No, coz, I rather weep.

ROMEO	Good heart, at what?

BENVOLIO	At thy good heart's oppression.

ROMEO	Why, such is love's transgression.
	Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,
	Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest
	With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown
	Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
	Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;
	Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
	Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears:
	What is it else? a madness most discreet,
	A choking gall and a preserving sweet.
	Farewell, my coz.

BENVOLIO	                  Soft! I will go along;
	An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.

ROMEO	Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;
	This is not Romeo, he's some other where.

BENVOLIO	Tell me in sadness, who is that you love.

ROMEO	What, shall I groan and tell thee?

BENVOLIO	Groan! why, no.
	But sadly tell me who.

ROMEO	Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:
	Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill!
	In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.

BENVOLIO	I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved.

ROMEO	A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love.

BENVOLIO	A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.

ROMEO	Well, in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit
	With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian's wit;
	And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd,
	From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd.
	She will not stay the siege of loving terms,
	Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes,
	Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold:
	O, she is rich in beauty, only poor,
	That when she dies with beauty dies her store.

BENVOLIO	Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?

ROMEO	She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste,
	For beauty starved with her severity
	Cuts beauty off from all posterity.
	She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair,
	To merit bliss by making me despair:
	She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow
	Do I live dead that live to tell it now.

BENVOLIO	Be ruled by me, forget to think of her.

ROMEO	O, teach me how I should forget to think.

BENVOLIO	By giving liberty unto thine eyes;
	Examine other beauties.

ROMEO	'Tis the way
	To call hers exquisite, in question more:
	These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows
	Being black put us in mind they hide the fair;
	He that is strucken blind cannot forget
	The precious treasure of his eyesight lost:
	Show me a mistress that is passing fair,
	What doth her beauty serve, but as a note
	Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?
	Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget.

BENVOLIO	I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT I



SCENE II	A street.


	[Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant]

CAPULET	But Montague is bound as well as I,
	In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think,
	For men so old as we to keep the peace.

PARIS	Of honourable reckoning are you both;
	And pity 'tis you lived at odds so long.
	But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?

CAPULET	But saying o'er what I have said before:
	My child is yet a stranger in the world;
	She hath not seen the change of fourteen years,
	Let two more summers wither in their pride,
	Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

PARIS	Younger than she are happy mothers made.

CAPULET	And too soon marr'd are those so early made.
	The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she,
	She is the hopeful lady of my earth:
	But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
	My will to her consent is but a part;
	An she agree, within her scope of choice
	Lies my consent and fair according voice.
	This night I hold an old accustom'd feast,
	Whereto I have invited many a guest,
	Such as I love; and you, among the store,
	One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
	At my poor house look to behold this night
	Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light:
	Such comfort as do lusty young men feel
	When well-apparell'd April on the heel
	Of limping winter treads, even such delight
	Among fresh female buds shall you this night
	Inherit at my house; hear all, all see,
	And like her most whose merit most shall be:
	Which on more view, of many mine being one
	May stand in number, though in reckoning none,
	Come, go with me.

	[To Servant, giving a paper]

	Go, sirrah, trudge about
	Through fair Verona; find those persons out
	Whose names are written there, and to them say,
	My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.

	[Exeunt CAPULET and PARIS]

Servant	Find them out whose names are written here! It is
	written, that the shoemaker should meddle with his
	yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with
	his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am
	sent to find those persons whose names are here
	writ, and can never find what names the writing
	person hath here writ. I must to the learned.--In good time.

	[Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO]

BENVOLIO	Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning,
	One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish;
	Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning;
	One desperate grief cures with another's languish:
	Take thou some new infection to thy eye,
	And the rank poison of the old will die.

ROMEO	Your plaintain-leaf is excellent for that.

BENVOLIO	For what, I pray thee?

ROMEO	For your broken shin.

BENVOLIO	Why, Romeo, art thou mad?

ROMEO	Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man is;
	Shut up in prison, kept without my food,
	Whipp'd and tormented and--God-den, good fellow.

Servant	God gi' god-den. I pray, sir, can you read?

ROMEO	Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.

Servant	Perhaps you have learned it without book: but, I
	pray, can you read any thing you see?

ROMEO	Ay, if I know the letters and the language.

Servant	Ye say honestly: rest you merry!

ROMEO	Stay, fellow; I can read.

	[Reads]

	'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters;
	County Anselme and his beauteous sisters; the lady
	widow of Vitravio; Signior Placentio and his lovely
	nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; mine
	uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; my fair niece
	Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio and his cousin
	Tybalt, Lucio and the lively Helena.' A fair
	assembly: whither should they come?

Servant	Up.

ROMEO	Whither?

Servant	To supper; to our house.

ROMEO	Whose house?

Servant	My master's.

ROMEO	Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before.

Servant	Now I'll tell you without asking: my master is the
	great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house
	of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine.
	Rest you merry!

	[Exit]

BENVOLIO	At this same ancient feast of Capulet's
	Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest,
	With all the admired beauties of Verona:
	Go thither; and, with unattainted eye,
	Compare her face with some that I shall show,
	And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.

ROMEO	When the devout religion of mine eye
	Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires;
	And these, who often drown'd could never die,
	Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars!
	One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun
	Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.

BENVOLIO	Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by,
	Herself poised with herself in either eye:
	But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd
	Your lady's love against some other maid
	That I will show you shining at this feast,
	And she shall scant show well that now shows best.

ROMEO	I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,
	But to rejoice in splendor of mine own.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT I



SCENE III	A room in Capulet's house.


	[Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse]

LADY CAPULET	Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.

Nurse	Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old,
	I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird!
	God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet!

	[Enter JULIET]

JULIET	How now! who calls?

Nurse	Your mother.

JULIET	Madam, I am here.
	What is your will?

LADY CAPULET	This is the matter:--Nurse, give leave awhile,
	We must talk in secret:--nurse, come back again;
	I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel.
	Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age.

Nurse	Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.

LADY CAPULET	She's not fourteen.

Nurse	I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,--
	And yet, to my teeth be it spoken, I have but four--
	She is not fourteen. How long is it now
	To Lammas-tide?

LADY CAPULET	                  A fortnight and odd days.

Nurse	Even or odd, of all days in the year,
	Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen.
	Susan and she--God rest all Christian souls!--
	Were of an age: well, Susan is with God;
	She was too good for me: but, as I said,
	On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen;
	That shall she, marry; I remember it well.
	'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;
	And she was wean'd,--I never shall forget it,--
	Of all the days of the year, upon that day:
	For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,
	Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall;
	My lord and you were then at Mantua:--
	Nay, I do bear a brain:--but, as I said,
	When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple
	Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool,
	To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug!
	Shake quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow,
	To bid me trudge:
	And since that time it is eleven years;
	For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood,
	She could have run and waddled all about;
	For even the day before, she broke her brow:
	And then my husband--God be with his soul!
	A' was a merry man--took up the child:
	'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face?
	Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit;
	Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidame,
	The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.'
	To see, now, how a jest shall come about!
	I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,
	I never should forget it: 'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he;
	And, pretty fool, it stinted and said 'Ay.'

LADY CAPULET	Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace.

Nurse	Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh,
	To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.'
	And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow
	A bump as big as a young cockerel's stone;
	A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly:
	'Yea,' quoth my husband,'fall'st upon thy face?
	Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age;
	Wilt thou not, Jule?' it stinted and said 'Ay.'

JULIET	And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.

Nurse	Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace!
	Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed:
	An I might live to see thee married once,
	I have my wish.

LADY CAPULET	Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme
	I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet,
	How stands your disposition to be married?

JULIET	It is an honour that I dream not of.

Nurse	An honour! were not I thine only nurse,
	I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat.

LADY CAPULET	Well, think of marriage now; younger than you,
	Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,
	Are made already mothers: by my count,
	I was your mother much upon these years
	That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief:
	The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.

Nurse	A man, young lady! lady, such a man
	As all the world--why, he's a man of wax.

LADY CAPULET	Verona's summer hath not such a flower.

Nurse	Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.

LADY CAPULET	What say you? can you love the gentleman?
	This night you shall behold him at our feast;
	Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,
	And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;
	Examine every married lineament,
	And see how one another lends content
	And what obscured in this fair volume lies
	Find written in the margent of his eyes.
	This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
	To beautify him, only lacks a cover:
	The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride
	For fair without the fair within to hide:
	That book in many's eyes doth share the glory,
	That in gold clasps locks in the golden story;
	So shall you share all that he doth possess,
	By having him, making yourself no less.

Nurse	No less! nay, bigger; women grow by men.

LADY CAPULET	Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love?

JULIET	I'll look to like, if looking liking move:
	But no more deep will I endart mine eye
	Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.

	[Enter a Servant]

Servant	Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you
	called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in
	the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must
	hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.

LADY CAPULET	We follow thee.

	[Exit Servant]

	Juliet, the county stays.

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

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT I



SCENE IV	A street.


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

ROMEO	What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?
	Or shall we on without a apology?

BENVOLIO	The date is out of such prolixity:
	We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf,
	Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
	Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;
	Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke
	After the prompter, for our entrance:
	But let them measure us by what they will;
	We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.

ROMEO	Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling;
	Being but heavy, I will bear the light.

MERCUTIO	Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.

ROMEO	Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes
	With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead
	So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.

MERCUTIO	You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings,
	And soar with them above a common bound.

ROMEO	I am too sore enpierced with his shaft
	To soar with his light feathers, and so bound,
	I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe:
	Under love's heavy burden do I sink.

MERCUTIO	And, to sink in it, should you burden love;
	Too great oppression for a tender thing.

ROMEO	Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,
	Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.

MERCUTIO	If love be rough with you, be rough with love;
	Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.
	Give me a case to put my visage in:
	A visor for a visor! what care I
	What curious eye doth quote deformities?
	Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.

BENVOLIO	Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in,
	But every man betake him to his legs.

ROMEO	A torch for me: let wantons light of heart
	Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels,
	For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase;
	I'll be a candle-holder, and look on.
	The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.

MERCUTIO	Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word:
	If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire
	Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st
	Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!

ROMEO	Nay, that's not so.

MERCUTIO	I mean, sir, in delay
	We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
	Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits
	Five times in that ere once in our five wits.

ROMEO	And we mean well in going to this mask;
	But 'tis no wit to go.

MERCUTIO	Why, may one ask?

ROMEO	I dream'd a dream to-night.

MERCUTIO	And so did I.

ROMEO	Well, what was yours?

MERCUTIO	That dreamers often lie.

ROMEO	In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.

MERCUTIO	O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
	She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes
	In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
	On the fore-finger of an alderman,
	Drawn with a team of little atomies
	Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep;
	Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs,
	The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,
	The traces of the smallest spider's web,
	The collars of the moonshine's watery beams,
	Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film,
	Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat,
	Not so big as a round little worm
	Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid;
	Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut
	Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
	Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers.
	And in this state she gallops night by night
	Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;
	O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight,
	O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees,
	O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream,
	Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
	Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are:
	Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
	And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;
	And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail
	Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep,
	Then dreams, he of another benefice:
	Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
	And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
	Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
	Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon
	Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
	And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two
	And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
	That plats the manes of horses in the night,
	And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs,
	Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes:
	This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
	That presses them and learns them first to bear,
	Making them women of good carriage:
	This is she--

ROMEO	                  Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!
	Thou talk'st of nothing.

MERCUTIO	True, I talk of dreams,
	Which are the children of an idle brain,
	Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,
	Which is as thin of substance as the air
	And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes
	Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
	And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
	Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.

BENVOLIO	This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves;
	Supper is done, and we shall come too late.

ROMEO	I fear, too early: for my mind misgives
	Some consequence yet hanging in the stars
	Shall bitterly begin his fearful date
	With this night's revels and expire the term
	Of a despised life closed in my breast
	By some vile forfeit of untimely death.
	But He, that hath the steerage of my course,
	Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen.

BENVOLIO	Strike, drum.

	[Exeunt]



	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT I



SCENE V	A hall in Capulet's house.


	[Musicians waiting. Enter Servingmen with napkins]

First Servant	Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He
	shift a trencher? he scrape a trencher!

Second Servant	When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's
	hands and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing.

First Servant	Away with the joint-stools, remove the
	court-cupboard, look to the plate. Good thou, save
	me a piece of marchpane; and, as thou lovest me, let
	the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell.
	Antony, and Potpan!

Second Servant	Ay, boy, ready.

First Servant	You are looked for and called for, asked for and
	sought for, in the great chamber.

Second Servant	We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys; be
	brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all.

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

CAPULET	Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have their toes
	Unplagued with corns will have a bout with you.
	Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all
	Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty,
	She, I'll swear, hath corns; am I come near ye now?
	Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day
	That I have worn a visor and could tell
	A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,
	Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone:
	You are welcome, gentlemen! come, musicians, play.
	A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls.

	[Music plays, and they dance]

	More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up,
	And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.
	Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well.
	Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet;
	For you and I are past our dancing days:
	How long is't now since last yourself and I
	Were in a mask?

Second Capulet	                  By'r lady, thirty years.

CAPULET	What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much:
	'Tis since the nuptials of Lucentio,
	Come pentecost as quickly as it will,
	Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd.

Second Capulet	'Tis more, 'tis more, his son is elder, sir;
	His son is thirty.

CAPULET	                  Will you tell me that?
	His son was but a ward two years ago.

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

Servant	I know not, sir.

ROMEO	O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
	It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
	Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear;
	Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
	So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,
	As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.
	The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,
	And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.
	Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
	For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

TYBALT	This, by his voice, should be a Montague.
	Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave
	Come hither, cover'd with an antic face,
	To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?
	Now, by the stock and honour of my kin,
	To strike him dead, I hold it not a sin.

CAPULET	Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so?

TYBALT	Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe,
	A villain that is hither come in spite,
	To scorn at our solemnity this night.

CAPULET	Young Romeo is it?

TYBALT	'Tis he, that villain Romeo.

CAPULET	Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone;
	He bears him like a portly gentleman;
	And, to say truth, Verona brags of him
	To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth:
	I would not for the wealth of all the town
	Here in my house do him disparagement:
	Therefore be patient, take no note of him:
	It is my will, the which if thou respect,
	Show a fair presence and put off these frowns,
	And ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.

TYBALT	It fits, when such a villain is a guest:
	I'll not endure him.

CAPULET	He shall be endured:
	What, goodman boy! I say, he shall: go to;
	Am I the master here, or you? go to.
	You'll not endure him! God shall mend my soul!
	You'll make a mutiny among my guests!
	You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man!

TYBALT	Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.

CAPULET	Go to, go to;
	You are a saucy boy: is't so, indeed?
	This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what:
	You must contrary me! marry, 'tis time.
	Well said, my hearts! You are a princox; go:
	Be quiet, or--More light, more light! For shame!
	I'll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts!

TYBALT	Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting
	Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.
	I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall
	Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall.

	[Exit]

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

JULIET	Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
	Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
	For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
	And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.

ROMEO	Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

JULIET	Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

ROMEO	O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
	They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

JULIET	Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.

ROMEO	Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.
	Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.

JULIET	Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

ROMEO	Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!
	Give me my sin again.

JULIET	You kiss by the book.

Nurse	Madam, your mother craves a word with you.

ROMEO	What is her mother?

Nurse	Marry, bachelor,
	Her mother is the lady of the house,
	And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous
	I nursed her daughter, that you talk'd withal;
	I tell you, he that can lay hold of her
	Shall have the chinks.

ROMEO	Is she a Capulet?
	O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.

BENVOLIO	Away, begone; the sport is at the best.

ROMEO	Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.

CAPULET	Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;
	We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.
	Is it e'en so? why, then, I thank you all
	I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night.
	More torches here! Come on then, let's to bed.
	Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late:
	I'll to my rest.

	[Exeunt all but JULIET and Nurse]

JULIET	Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman?

Nurse	The son and heir of old Tiberio.

JULIET	What's he that now is going out of door?

Nurse	Marry, that, I think, be young Petrucio.

JULIET	What's he that follows there, that would not dance?

Nurse	I know not.

JULIET	Go ask his name: if he be married.
	My grave is like to be my wedding bed.

Nurse	His name is Romeo, and a Montague;
	The only son of your great enemy.

JULIET	My only love sprung from my only hate!
	Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
	Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
	That I must love a loathed enemy.

Nurse	What's this? what's this?

JULIET	A rhyme I learn'd even now
	Of one I danced withal.

	[One calls within 'Juliet.']

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

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT II


	PROLOGUE


	[Enter Chorus]

Chorus	Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie,
	And young affection gapes to be his heir;
	That fair for which love groan'd for and would die,
	With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair.
	Now Romeo is beloved and loves again,
	Alike betwitched by the charm of looks,
	But to his foe supposed he must complain,
	And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks:
	Being held a foe, he may not have access
	To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear;
	And she as much in love, her means much less
	To meet her new-beloved any where:
	But passion lends them power, time means, to meet
	Tempering extremities with extreme sweet.

	[Exit]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT II



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


	[Enter ROMEO]

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

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

	[Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO]

BENVOLIO	Romeo! my cousin Romeo!

MERCUTIO	He is wise;
	And, on my lie, hath stol'n him home to bed.

BENVOLIO	He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall:
	Call, good Mercutio.

MERCUTIO	Nay, I'll conjure too.
	Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover!
	Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh:
	Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied;
	Cry but 'Ay me!' pronounce but 'love' and 'dove;'
	Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,
	One nick-name for her purblind son and heir,
	Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim,
	When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid!
	He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not;
	The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.
	I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,
	By her high forehead and her scarlet lip,
	By her fine foot, straight leg and quivering thigh
	And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,
	That in thy likeness thou appear to us!

BENVOLIO	And if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.

MERCUTIO	This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him
	To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle
	Of some strange nature, letting it there stand
	Till she had laid it and conjured it down;
	That were some spite: my invocation
	Is fair and honest, and in his mistress' name
	I conjure only but to raise up him.

BENVOLIO	Come, he hath hid himself among these trees,
	To be consorted with the humorous night:
	Blind is his love and best befits the dark.

MERCUTIO	If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.
	Now will he sit under a medlar tree,
	And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit
	As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone.
	Romeo, that she were, O, that she were
	An open et caetera, thou a poperin pear!
	Romeo, good night: I'll to my truckle-bed;
	This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep:
	Come, shall we go?

BENVOLIO	                  Go, then; for 'tis in vain
	To seek him here that means not to be found.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT II



SCENE II	Capulet's orchard.


	[Enter ROMEO]

ROMEO	He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

	[JULIET appears above at a window]

	But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
	It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
	Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
	Who is already sick and pale with grief,
	That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
	Be not her maid, since she is envious;
	Her vestal livery is but sick and green
	And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
	It is my lady, O, it is my love!
	O, that she knew she were!
	She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?
	Her eye discourses; I will answer it.
	I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
	Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
	Having some business, do entreat her eyes
	To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
	What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
	The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
	As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
	Would through the airy region stream so bright
	That birds would sing and think it were not night.
	See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
	O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
	That I might touch that cheek!

JULIET	Ay me!

ROMEO	She speaks:
	O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
	As glorious to this night, being o'er my head
	As is a winged messenger of heaven
	Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes
	Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him
	When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds
	And sails upon the bosom of the air.

JULIET	O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
	Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
	Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
	And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

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

JULIET	'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
	Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
	What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
	Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
	Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
	What's in a name? that which we call a rose
	By any other name would smell as sweet;
	So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
	Retain that dear perfection which he owes
	Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
	And for that name which is no part of thee
	Take all myself.

ROMEO	                  I take thee at thy word:
	Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized;
	Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

JULIET	What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night
	So stumblest on my counsel?

ROMEO	By a name
	I know not how to tell thee who I am:
	My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
	Because it is an enemy to thee;
	Had I it written, I would tear the word.

JULIET	My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words
	Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound:
	Art thou not Romeo and a Montague?

ROMEO	Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike.

JULIET	How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?
	The orchard walls are high and hard to climb,
	And the place death, considering who thou art,
	If any of my kinsmen find thee here.

ROMEO	With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;
	For stony limits cannot hold love out,
	And what love can do that dares love attempt;
	Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.

JULIET	If they do see thee, they will murder thee.

ROMEO	Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye
	Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet,
	And I am proof against their enmity.

JULIET	I would not for the world they saw thee here.

ROMEO	I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight;
	And but thou love me, let them find me here:
	My life were better ended by their hate,
	Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.

JULIET	By whose direction found'st thou out this place?

ROMEO	By love, who first did prompt me to inquire;
	He lent me counsel and I lent him eyes.
	I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far
	As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea,
	I would adventure for such merchandise.

JULIET	Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,
	Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
	For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night
	Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny
	What I have spoke: but farewell compliment!
	Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,'
	And I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st,
	Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries
	Then say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,
	If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:
	Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
	I'll frown and be perverse an say thee nay,
	So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.
	In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond,
	And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light:
	But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true
	Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
	I should have been more strange, I must confess,
	But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware,
	My true love's passion: therefore pardon me,
	And not impute this yielding to light love,
	Which the dark night hath so discovered.

ROMEO	Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear
	That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops--

JULIET	O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,
	That monthly changes in her circled orb,
	Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

ROMEO	What shall I swear by?

JULIET	Do not swear at all;
	Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
	Which is the god of my idolatry,
	And I'll believe thee.

ROMEO	If my heart's dear love--

JULIET	Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee,
	I have no joy of this contract to-night:
	It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden;
	Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be
	Ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night!
	This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
	May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.
	Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest
	Come to thy heart as that within my breast!

ROMEO	O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?

JULIET	What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?

ROMEO	The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.

JULIET	I gave thee mine before thou didst request it:
	And yet I would it were to give again.

ROMEO	Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love?

JULIET	But to be frank, and give it thee again.
	And yet I wish but for the thing I have:
	My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
	My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
	The more I have, for both are infinite.

	[Nurse calls within]

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

	[Exit, above]

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

	[Re-enter JULIET, above]

JULIET	Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed.
	If that thy bent of love be honourable,
	Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow,
	By one that I'll procure to come to thee,
	Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite;
	And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay
	And follow thee my lord throughout the world.

Nurse	[Within]  Madam!

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

Nurse	[Within]  Madam!

JULIET	By and by, I come:--
	To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief:
	To-morrow will I send.

ROMEO	So thrive my soul--

JULIET	A thousand times good night!

	[Exit, above]

ROMEO	A thousand times the worse, to want thy light.
	Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from
	their books,
	But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.

	[Retiring]

	[Re-enter JULIET, above]

JULIET	Hist! Romeo, hist! O, for a falconer's voice,
	To lure this tassel-gentle back again!
	Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud;
	Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies,
	And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine,
	With repetition of my Romeo's name.

ROMEO	It is my soul that calls upon my name:
	How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,
	Like softest music to attending ears!

JULIET	Romeo!

ROMEO	     My dear?

JULIET	                  At what o'clock to-morrow
	Shall I send to thee?

ROMEO	At the hour of nine.

JULIET	I will not fail: 'tis twenty years till then.
	I have forgot why I did call thee back.

ROMEO	Let me stand here till thou remember it.

JULIET	I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,
	Remembering how I love thy company.

ROMEO	And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget,
	Forgetting any other home but this.

JULIET	'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone:
	And yet no further than a wanton's bird;
	Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
	Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
	And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
	So loving-jealous of his liberty.

ROMEO	I would I were thy bird.

JULIET	Sweet, so would I:
	Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.
	Good night, good night! parting is such
	sweet sorrow,
	That I shall say good night till it be morrow.

	[Exit above]

ROMEO	Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!
	Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!
	Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell,
	His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.

	[Exit]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT II



SCENE III	Friar Laurence's cell.


	[Enter FRIAR LAURENCE, with a basket]

FRIAR LAURENCE	The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,
	Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light,
	And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels
	From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels:
	Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye,
	The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry,
	I must up-fill this osier cage of ours
	With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers.
	The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb;
	What is her burying grave that is her womb,
	And from her womb children of divers kind
	We sucking on her natural bosom find,
	Many for many virtues excellent,
	None but for some and yet all different.
	O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies
	In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities:
	For nought so vile that on the earth doth live
	But to the earth some special good doth give,
	Nor aught so good but strain'd from that fair use
	Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:
	Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;
	And vice sometimes by action dignified.
	Within the infant rind of this small flower
	Poison hath residence and medicine power:
	For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part;
	Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
	Two such opposed kings encamp them still
	In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will;
	And where the worser is predominant,
	Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.

	[Enter ROMEO]

ROMEO	Good morrow, father.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Benedicite!
	What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?
	Young son, it argues a distemper'd head
	So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed:
	Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
	And where care lodges, sleep will never lie;
	But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain
	Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign:
	Therefore thy earliness doth me assure
	Thou art up-roused by some distemperature;
	Or if not so, then here I hit it right,
	Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.

ROMEO	That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.

FRIAR LAURENCE	God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?

ROMEO	With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no;
	I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.

FRIAR LAURENCE	That's my good son: but where hast thou been, then?

ROMEO	I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.
	I have been feasting with mine enemy,
	Where on a sudden one hath wounded me,
	That's by me wounded: both our remedies
	Within thy help and holy physic lies:
	I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo,
	My intercession likewise steads my foe.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;
	Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.

ROMEO	Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set
	On the fair daughter of rich Capulet:
	As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;
	And all combined, save what thou must combine
	By holy marriage: when and where and how
	We met, we woo'd and made exchange of vow,
	I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,
	That thou consent to marry us to-day.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here!
	Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear,
	So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies
	Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
	Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine
	Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!
	How much salt water thrown away in waste,
	To season love, that of it doth not taste!
	The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
	Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears;
	Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
	Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet:
	If e'er thou wast thyself and these woes thine,
	Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline:
	And art thou changed? pronounce this sentence then,
	Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.

ROMEO	Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline.

FRIAR LAURENCE	For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.

ROMEO	And bad'st me bury love.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Not in a grave,
	To lay one in, another out to have.

ROMEO	I pray thee, chide not; she whom I love now
	Doth grace for grace and love for love allow;
	The other did not so.

FRIAR LAURENCE	O, she knew well
	Thy love did read by rote and could not spell.
	But come, young waverer, come, go with me,
	In one respect I'll thy assistant be;
	For this alliance may so happy prove,
	To turn your households' rancour to pure love.

ROMEO	O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT II



SCENE IV	A street.


	[Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO]

MERCUTIO	Where the devil should this Romeo be?
	Came he not home to-night?

BENVOLIO	Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.

MERCUTIO	Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline.
	Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.

BENVOLIO	Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,
	Hath sent a letter to his father's house.

MERCUTIO	A challenge, on my life.

BENVOLIO	Romeo will answer it.

MERCUTIO	Any man that can write may answer a letter.

BENVOLIO	Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he
	dares, being dared.

MERCUTIO	Alas poor Romeo! he is already dead; stabbed with a
	white wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a
	love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the
	blind bow-boy's butt-shaft: and is he a man to
	encounter Tybalt?

BENVOLIO	Why, what is Tybalt?

MERCUTIO	More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O, he is
	the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as
	you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and
	proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and
	the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk
	button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the
	very first house, of the first and second cause:
	ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the
	hai!

BENVOLIO	The what?

MERCUTIO	The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting
	fantasticoes; these new tuners of accents! 'By Jesu,
	a very good blade! a very tall man! a very good
	whore!' Why, is not this a lamentable thing,
	grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with
	these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these
	perdona-mi's, who stand so much on the new form,
	that they cannot at ease on the old bench? O, their
	bones, their bones!

	[Enter ROMEO]

BENVOLIO	Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.

MERCUTIO	Without his roe, like a dried herring: flesh, flesh,
	how art thou fishified! Now is he for the numbers
	that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his lady was but a
	kitchen-wench; marry, she had a better love to
	be-rhyme her; Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a gipsy;
	Helen and Hero hildings and harlots; Thisbe a grey
	eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior
	Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation
	to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit
	fairly last night.

ROMEO	Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?

MERCUTIO	The ship, sir, the slip; can you not conceive?

ROMEO	Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and in
	such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.

MERCUTIO	That's as much as to say, such a case as yours
	constrains a man to bow in the hams.

ROMEO	Meaning, to court'sy.

MERCUTIO	Thou hast most kindly hit it.

ROMEO	A most courteous exposition.

MERCUTIO	Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.

ROMEO	Pink for flower.

MERCUTIO	Right.

ROMEO	Why, then is my pump well flowered.

MERCUTIO	Well said: follow me this jest now till thou hast
	worn out thy pump, that when the single sole of it
	is worn, the jest may remain after the wearing sole singular.

ROMEO	O single-soled jest, solely singular for the
	singleness.

MERCUTIO	Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint.

ROMEO	Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll cry a match.

MERCUTIO	Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I have
	done, for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of
	thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five:
	was I with you there for the goose?

ROMEO	Thou wast never with me for any thing when thou wast
	not there for the goose.

MERCUTIO	I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.

ROMEO	Nay, good goose, bite not.

MERCUTIO	Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most
	sharp sauce.

ROMEO	And is it not well served in to a sweet goose?

MERCUTIO	O here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an
	inch narrow to an ell broad!

ROMEO	I stretch it out for that word 'broad;' which added
	to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.

MERCUTIO	Why, is not this better now than groaning for love?
	now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; now art
	thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature:
	for this drivelling love is like a great natural,
	that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole.

BENVOLIO	Stop there, stop there.

MERCUTIO	Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair.

BENVOLIO	Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.

MERCUTIO	O, thou art deceived; I would have made it short:
	for I was come to the whole depth of my tale; and
	meant, indeed, to occupy the argument no longer.

ROMEO	Here's goodly gear!

	[Enter Nurse and PETER]

MERCUTIO	A sail, a sail!

BENVOLIO	Two, two; a shirt and a smock.

Nurse	Peter!

PETER	Anon!

Nurse	My fan, Peter.

MERCUTIO	Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the
	fairer face.

Nurse	God ye good morrow, gentlemen.

MERCUTIO	God ye good den, fair gentlewoman.

Nurse	Is it good den?

MERCUTIO	'Tis no less, I tell you, for the bawdy hand of the
	dial is now upon the prick of noon.

Nurse	Out upon you! what a man are you!

ROMEO	One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to
	mar.

Nurse	By my troth, it is well said; 'for himself to mar,'
	quoth a'? Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I
	may find the young Romeo?

ROMEO	I can tell you; but young Romeo will be older when
	you have found him than he was when you sought him:
	I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse.

Nurse	You say well.

MERCUTIO	Yea, is the worst well? very well took, i' faith;
	wisely, wisely.

Nurse	if you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with
	you.

BENVOLIO	She will indite him to some supper.

MERCUTIO	A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! so ho!

ROMEO	What hast thou found?

MERCUTIO	No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie,
	that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent.

	[Sings]

	An old hare hoar,
	And an old hare hoar,
	Is very good meat in lent
	But a hare that is hoar
	Is too much for a score,
	When it hoars ere it be spent.
	Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll
	to dinner, thither.

ROMEO	I will follow you.

MERCUTIO	Farewell, ancient lady; farewell,

	[Singing]

	'lady, lady, lady.'

	[Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO]

Nurse	Marry, farewell! I pray you, sir, what saucy
	merchant was this, that was so full of his ropery?

ROMEO	A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk,
	and will speak more in a minute than he will stand
	to in a month.

Nurse	An a' speak any thing against me, I'll take him
	down, an a' were lustier than he is, and twenty such
	Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall.
	Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I am
	none of his skains-mates. And thou must stand by
	too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure?

PETER	I saw no man use you a pleasure; if I had, my weapon
	should quickly have been out, I warrant you: I dare
	draw as soon as another man, if I see occasion in a
	good quarrel, and the law on my side.

Nurse	Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that every part about
	me quivers. Scurvy knave! Pray you, sir, a word:
	and as I told you, my young lady bade me inquire you
	out; what she bade me say, I will keep to myself:
	but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into
	a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross
	kind of behavior, as they say: for the gentlewoman
	is young; and, therefore, if you should deal double
	with her, truly it were an ill thing to be offered
	to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.

ROMEO	Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I
	protest unto thee--

Nurse	Good heart, and, i' faith, I will tell her as much:
	Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful woman.

ROMEO	What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost not mark me.

Nurse	I will tell her, sir, that you do protest; which, as
	I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.

ROMEO	Bid her devise
	Some means to come to shrift this afternoon;
	And there she shall at Friar Laurence' cell
	Be shrived and married. Here is for thy pains.

Nurse	No truly sir; not a penny.

ROMEO	Go to; I say you shall.

Nurse	This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there.

ROMEO	And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey wall:
	Within this hour my man shall be with thee
	And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair;
	Which to the high top-gallant of my joy
	Must be my convoy in the secret night.
	Farewell; be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains:
	Farewell; commend me to thy mistress.

Nurse	Now God in heaven bless thee! Hark you, sir.

ROMEO	What say'st thou, my dear nurse?

Nurse	Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say,
	Two may keep counsel, putting one away?

ROMEO	I warrant thee, my man's as true as steel.

NURSE	Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady--Lord,
	Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing:--O, there
	is a nobleman in town, one Paris, that would fain
	lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had as lief
	see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her
	sometimes and tell her that Paris is the properer
	man; but, I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks
	as pale as any clout in the versal world. Doth not
	rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter?

ROMEO	Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R.

Nurse	Ah. mocker! that's the dog's name; R is for
	the--No; I know it begins with some other
	letter:--and she hath the prettiest sententious of
	it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good
	to hear it.

ROMEO	Commend me to thy lady.

Nurse	Ay, a thousand times.

	[Exit Romeo]
	Peter!

PETER	Anon!

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

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT II



SCENE V	Capulet's orchard.


	[Enter JULIET]

JULIET	The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse;
	In half an hour she promised to return.
	Perchance she cannot meet him: that's not so.
	O, she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts,
	Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams,
	Driving back shadows over louring hills:
	Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love,
	And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
	Now is the sun upon the highmost hill
	Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve
	Is three long hours, yet she is not come.
	Had she affections and warm youthful blood,
	She would be as swift in motion as a ball;
	My words would bandy her to my sweet love,
	And his to me:
	But old folks, many feign as they were dead;
	Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.
	O God, she comes!

	[Enter Nurse and PETER]

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

Nurse	Peter, stay at the gate.

	[Exit PETER]

JULIET	Now, good sweet nurse,--O Lord, why look'st thou sad?
	Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily;
	If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news
	By playing it to me with so sour a face.

Nurse	I am a-weary, give me leave awhile:
	Fie, how my bones ache! what a jaunt have I had!

JULIET	I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news:
	Nay, come, I pray thee, speak; good, good nurse, speak.

Nurse	Jesu, what haste? can you not stay awhile?
	Do you not see that I am out of breath?

JULIET	How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath
	To say to me that thou art out of breath?
	The excuse that thou dost make in this delay
	Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse.
	Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that;
	Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance:
	Let me be satisfied, is't good or bad?

Nurse	Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not
	how to choose a man: Romeo! no, not he; though his
	face be better than any man's, yet his leg excels
	all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body,
	though they be not to be talked on, yet they are
	past compare: he is not the flower of courtesy,
	but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. Go thy
	ways, wench; serve God. What, have you dined at home?

JULIET	No, no: but all this did I know before.
	What says he of our marriage? what of that?

Nurse	Lord, how my head aches! what a head have I!
	It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.
	My back o' t' other side,--O, my back, my back!
	Beshrew your heart for sending me about,
	To catch my death with jaunting up and down!

JULIET	I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well.
	Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love?

Nurse	Your love says, like an honest gentleman, and a
	courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, and, I
	warrant, a virtuous,--Where is your mother?

JULIET	Where is my mother! why, she is within;
	Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest!
	'Your love says, like an honest gentleman,
	Where is your mother?'

Nurse	O God's lady dear!
	Are you so hot? marry, come up, I trow;
	Is this the poultice for my aching bones?
	Henceforward do your messages yourself.

JULIET	Here's such a coil! come, what says Romeo?

Nurse	Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day?

JULIET	I have.

Nurse	Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' cell;
	There stays a husband to make you a wife:
	Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,
	They'll be in scarlet straight at any news.
	Hie you to church; I must another way,
	To fetch a ladder, by the which your love
	Must climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark:
	I am the drudge and toil in your delight,
	But you shall bear the burden soon at night.
	Go; I'll to dinner: hie you to the cell.

JULIET	Hie to high fortune! Honest nurse, farewell.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT II



SCENE VI	Friar Laurence's cell.


	[Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and ROMEO]

FRIAR LAURENCE	So smile the heavens upon this holy act,
	That after hours with sorrow chide us not!

ROMEO	Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,
	It cannot countervail the exchange of joy
	That one short minute gives me in her sight:
	Do thou but close our hands with holy words,
	Then love-devouring death do what he dare;
	It is enough I may but call her mine.

FRIAR LAURENCE	These violent delights have violent ends
	And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,
	Which as they kiss consume: the sweetest honey
	Is loathsome in his own deliciousness
	And in the taste confounds the appetite:
	Therefore love moderately; long love doth so;
	Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.

	[Enter JULIET]

	Here comes the lady: O, so light a foot
	Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint:
	A lover may bestride the gossamer
	That idles in the wanton summer air,
	And yet not fall; so light is vanity.

JULIET	Good even to my ghostly confessor.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.

JULIET	As much to him, else is his thanks too much.

ROMEO	Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
	Be heap'd like mine and that thy skill be more
	To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath
	This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue
	Unfold the imagined happiness that both
	Receive in either by this dear encounter.

JULIET	Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,
	Brags of his substance, not of ornament:
	They are but beggars that can count their worth;
	But my true love is grown to such excess
	I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Come, come with me, and we will make short work;
	For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone
	Till holy church incorporate two in one.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT III



SCENE I	A public place.


	[Enter MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, and Servants]

BENVOLIO	I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire:
	The day is hot, the Capulets abroad,
	And, if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl;
	For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.

MERCUTIO	Thou art like one of those fellows that when he
	enters the confines of a tavern claps me his sword
	upon the table and says 'God send me no need of
	thee!' and by the operation of the second cup draws
	it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need.

BENVOLIO	Am I like such a fellow?

MERCUTIO	Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as
	any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as
	soon moody to be moved.

BENVOLIO	And what to?

MERCUTIO	Nay, an there were two such, we should have none
	shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why,
	thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more,
	or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast: thou
	wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no
	other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes: what
	eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel?
	Thy head is as fun of quarrels as an egg is full of
	meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as
	an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a
	man for coughing in the street, because he hath
	wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun:
	didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing
	his new doublet before Easter? with another, for
	tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou
	wilt tutor me from quarrelling!

BENVOLIO	An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man
	should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.

MERCUTIO	The fee-simple! O simple!

BENVOLIO	By my head, here come the Capulets.

MERCUTIO	By my heel, I care not.

	[Enter TYBALT and others]

TYBALT	Follow me close, for I will speak to them.
	Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you.

MERCUTIO	And but one word with one of us? couple it with
	something; make it a word and a blow.

TYBALT	You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you
	will give me occasion.

MERCUTIO	Could you not take some occasion without giving?

TYBALT	Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo,--

MERCUTIO	Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels? an
	thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but
	discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall
	make you dance. 'Zounds, consort!

BENVOLIO	We talk here in the public haunt of men:
	Either withdraw unto some private place,
	And reason coldly of your grievances,
	Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.

MERCUTIO	Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze;
	I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.

	[Enter ROMEO]

TYBALT	Well, peace be with you, sir: here comes my man.

MERCUTIO	But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery:
	Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower;
	Your worship in that sense may call him 'man.'

TYBALT	Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford
	No better term than this,--thou art a villain.

ROMEO	Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee
	Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
	To such a greeting: villain am I none;
	Therefore farewell; I see thou know'st me not.

TYBALT	Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
	That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw.

ROMEO	I do protest, I never injured thee,
	But love thee better than thou canst devise,
	Till thou shalt know the reason of my love:
	And so, good Capulet,--which name I tender
	As dearly as my own,--be satisfied.

MERCUTIO	O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
	Alla stoccata carries it away.

	[Draws]

	Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?

TYBALT	What wouldst thou have with me?

MERCUTIO	Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine
	lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you
	shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the
	eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher
	by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your
	ears ere it be out.

TYBALT	I am for you.

	[Drawing]

ROMEO	Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.

MERCUTIO	Come, sir, your passado.

	[They fight]

ROMEO	Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons.
	Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage!
	Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath
	Forbidden bandying in Verona streets:
	Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio!

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

MERCUTIO	I am hurt.
	A plague o' both your houses! I am sped.
	Is he gone, and hath nothing?

BENVOLIO	What, art thou hurt?

MERCUTIO	Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough.
	Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon.

	[Exit Page]

ROMEO	Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.

MERCUTIO	No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a
	church-door; but 'tis enough,'twill serve: ask for
	me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I
	am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o'
	both your houses! 'Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a
	cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a
	rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of
	arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I
	was hurt under your arm.

ROMEO	I thought all for the best.

MERCUTIO	Help me into some house, Benvolio,
	Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses!
	They have made worms' meat of me: I have it,
	And soundly too: your houses!

	[Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO]

ROMEO	This gentleman, the prince's near ally,
	My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt
	In my behalf; my reputation stain'd
	With Tybalt's slander,--Tybalt, that an hour
	Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet,
	Thy beauty hath made me effeminate
	And in my temper soften'd valour's steel!

	[Re-enter BENVOLIO]

BENVOLIO	O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead!
	That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds,
	Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.

ROMEO	This day's black fate on more days doth depend;
	This but begins the woe, others must end.

BENVOLIO	Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.

ROMEO	Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain!
	Away to heaven, respective lenity,
	And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now!

	[Re-enter TYBALT]

	Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,
	That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio's soul
	Is but a little way above our heads,
	Staying for thine to keep him company:
	Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.

TYBALT	Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here,
	Shalt with him hence.

ROMEO	This shall determine that.

	[They fight; TYBALT falls]

BENVOLIO	Romeo, away, be gone!
	The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain.
	Stand not amazed: the prince will doom thee death,
	If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away!

ROMEO	O, I am fortune's fool!

BENVOLIO	Why dost thou stay?

	[Exit ROMEO]

	[Enter Citizens, &c]

First Citizen	Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio?
	Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he?

BENVOLIO	There lies that Tybalt.

First Citizen	Up, sir, go with me;
	I charge thee in the princes name, obey.

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

PRINCE	Where are the vile beginners of this fray?

BENVOLIO	O noble prince, I can discover all
	The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl:
	There lies the man, slain by young Romeo,
	That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.

LADY CAPULET	Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's child!
	O prince! O cousin! husband! O, the blood is spilt
	O my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art true,
	For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague.
	O cousin, cousin!

PRINCE	Benvolio, who began this bloody fray?

BENVOLIO	Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay;
	Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink
	How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal
	Your high displeasure: all this uttered
	With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd,
	Could not take truce with the unruly spleen
	Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts
	With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast,
	Who all as hot, turns deadly point to point,
	And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats
	Cold death aside, and with the other sends
	It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity,
	Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud,
	'Hold, friends! friends, part!' and, swifter than
	his tongue,
	His agile arm beats down their fatal points,
	And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm
	An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life
	Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled;
	But by and by comes back to Romeo,
	Who had but newly entertain'd revenge,
	And to 't they go like lightning, for, ere I
	Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain.
	And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly.
	This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.

LADY CAPULET	He is a kinsman to the Montague;
	Affection makes him false; he speaks not true:
	Some twenty of them fought in this black strife,
	And all those twenty could but kill one life.
	I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give;
	Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.

PRINCE	Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio;
	Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?

MONTAGUE	Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's friend;
	His fault concludes but what the law should end,
	The life of Tybalt.

PRINCE	And for that offence
	Immediately we do exile him hence:
	I have an interest in your hate's proceeding,
	My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding;
	But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine
	That you shall all repent the loss of mine:
	I will be deaf to pleading and excuses;
	Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses:
	Therefore use none: let Romeo hence in haste,
	Else, when he's found, that hour is his last.
	Bear hence this body and attend our will:
	Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT III



SCENE II	Capulet's orchard.


	[Enter JULIET]

JULIET	Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
	Towards Phoebus' lodging: such a wagoner
	As Phaethon would whip you to the west,
	And bring in cloudy night immediately.
	Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night,
	That runaway's eyes may wink and Romeo
	Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen.
	Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
	By their own beauties; or, if love be blind,
	It best agrees with night. Come, civil night,
	Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,
	And learn me how to lose a winning match,
	Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods:
	Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks,
	With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold,
	Think true love acted simple modesty.
	Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night;
	For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
	Whiter than new snow on a raven's back.
	Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night,
	Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die,
	Take him and cut him out in little stars,
	And he will make the face of heaven so fine
	That all the world will be in love with night
	And pay no worship to the garish sun.
	O, I have bought the mansion of a love,
	But not possess'd it, and, though I am sold,
	Not yet enjoy'd: so tedious is this day
	As is the night before some festival
	To an impatient child that hath new robes
	And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse,
	And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks
	But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence.

	[Enter Nurse, with cords]

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

Nurse	Ay, ay, the cords.

	[Throws them down]

JULIET	Ay me! what news? why dost thou wring thy hands?

Nurse	Ah, well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead!
	We are undone, lady, we are undone!
	Alack the day! he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead!

JULIET	Can heaven be so envious?

Nurse	Romeo can,
	Though heaven cannot: O Romeo, Romeo!
	Who ever would have thought it? Romeo!

JULIET	What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus?
	This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell.
	Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but 'I,'
	And that bare vowel 'I' shall poison more
	Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice:
	I am not I, if there be such an I;
	Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer 'I.'
	If he be slain, say 'I'; or if not, no:
	Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe.

Nurse	I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,--
	God save the mark!--here on his manly breast:
	A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse;
	Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood,
	All in gore-blood; I swounded at the sight.

JULIET	O, break, my heart! poor bankrupt, break at once!
	To prison, eyes, ne'er look on liberty!
	Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here;
	And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier!

Nurse	O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had!
	O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman!
	That ever I should live to see thee dead!

JULIET	What storm is this that blows so contrary?
	Is Romeo slaughter'd, and is Tybalt dead?
	My dear-loved cousin, and my dearer lord?
	Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom!
	For who is living, if those two are gone?

Nurse	Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished;
	Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished.

JULIET	O God! did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood?

Nurse	It did, it did; alas the day, it did!

JULIET	O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face!
	Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?
	Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical!
	Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb!
	Despised substance of divinest show!
	Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st,
	A damned saint, an honourable villain!
	O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell,
	When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend
	In moral paradise of such sweet flesh?
	Was ever book containing such vile matter
	So fairly bound? O that deceit should dwell
	In such a gorgeous palace!

Nurse	There's no trust,
	No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured,
	All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.
	Ah, where's my man? give me some aqua vitae:
	These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old.
	Shame come to Romeo!

JULIET	Blister'd be thy tongue
	For such a wish! he was not born to shame:
	Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit;
	For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd
	Sole monarch of the universal earth.
	O, what a beast was I to chide at him!

Nurse	Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin?

JULIET	Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?
	Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name,
	When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?
	But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin?
	That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband:
	Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring;
	Your tributary drops belong to woe,
	Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy.
	My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain;
	And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband:
	All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?
	Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death,
	That murder'd me: I would forget it fain;
	But, O, it presses to my memory,
	Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds:
	'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo--banished;'
	That 'banished,' that one word 'banished,'
	Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death
	Was woe enough, if it had ended there:
	Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship
	And needly will be rank'd with other griefs,
	Why follow'd not, when she said 'Tybalt's dead,'
	Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both,
	Which modern lamentations might have moved?
	But with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death,
	'Romeo is banished,' to speak that word,
	Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,
	All slain, all dead. 'Romeo is banished!'
	There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,
	In that word's death; no words can that woe sound.
	Where is my father, and my mother, nurse?

Nurse	Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse:
	Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.

JULIET	Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shall be spent,
	When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.
	Take up those cords: poor ropes, you are beguiled,
	Both you and I; for Romeo is exiled:
	He made you for a highway to my bed;
	But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed.
	Come, cords, come, nurse; I'll to my wedding-bed;
	And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!

Nurse	Hie to your chamber: I'll find Romeo
	To comfort you: I wot well where he is.
	Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night:
	I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell.

JULIET	O, find him! give this ring to my true knight,
	And bid him come to take his last farewell.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT III



SCENE III	Friar Laurence's cell.


	[Enter FRIAR LAURENCE]

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

	[Enter ROMEO]

ROMEO	Father, what news? what is the prince's doom?
	What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,
	That I yet know not?

FRIAR LAURENCE	Too familiar
	Is my dear son with such sour company:
	I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.

ROMEO	What less than dooms-day is the prince's doom?

FRIAR LAURENCE	A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips,
	Not body's death, but body's banishment.

ROMEO	Ha, banishment! be merciful, say 'death;'
	For exile hath more terror in his look,
	Much more than death: do not say 'banishment.'

FRIAR LAURENCE	Hence from Verona art thou banished:
	Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.

ROMEO	There is no world without Verona walls,
	But purgatory, torture, hell itself.
	Hence-banished is banish'd from the world,
	And world's exile is death: then banished,
	Is death mis-term'd: calling death banishment,
	Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe,
	And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.

FRIAR LAURENCE	O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!
	Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince,
	Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law,
	And turn'd that black word death to banishment:
	This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.

ROMEO	'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here,
	Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog
	And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
	Live here in heaven and may look on her;
	But Romeo may not: more validity,
	More honourable state, more courtship lives
	In carrion-flies than Romeo: they my seize
	On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand
	And steal immortal blessing from her lips,
	Who even in pure and vestal modesty,
	Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin;
	But Romeo may not; he is banished:
	Flies may do this, but I from this must fly:
	They are free men, but I am banished.
	And say'st thou yet that exile is not death?
	Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife,
	No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,
	But 'banished' to kill me?--'banished'?
	O friar, the damned use that word in hell;
	Howlings attend it: how hast thou the heart,
	Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,
	A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd,
	To mangle me with that word 'banished'?

FRIAR LAURENCE	Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word.

ROMEO	O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.

FRIAR LAURENCE	I'll give thee armour to keep off that word:
	Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
	To comfort thee, though thou art banished.

ROMEO	Yet 'banished'? Hang up philosophy!
	Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
	Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom,
	It helps not, it prevails not: talk no more.

FRIAR LAURENCE	O, then I see that madmen have no ears.

ROMEO	How should they, when that wise men have no eyes?

FRIAR LAURENCE	Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.

ROMEO	Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel:
	Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,
	An hour but married, Tybalt murdered,
	Doting like me and like me banished,
	Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair,
	And fall upon the ground, as I do now,
	Taking the measure of an unmade grave.

	[Knocking within]

FRIAR LAURENCE	Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thyself.

ROMEO	Not I; unless the breath of heartsick groans,
	Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes.

	[Knocking]

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

	[Knocking]

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

	[Knocking]

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

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

FRIAR LAURENCE	Welcome, then.

	[Enter Nurse]

Nurse	O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar,
	Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo?

FRIAR LAURENCE	There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk.

Nurse	O, he is even in my mistress' case,
	Just in her case! O woful sympathy!
	Piteous predicament! Even so lies she,
	Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.
	Stand up, stand up; stand, and you be a man:
	For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand;
	Why should you fall into so deep an O?

ROMEO	Nurse!

Nurse	Ah sir! ah sir! Well, death's the end of all.

ROMEO	Spakest thou of Juliet? how is it with her?
	Doth she not think me an old murderer,
	Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy
	With blood removed but little from her own?
	Where is she? and how doth she? and what says
	My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love?

Nurse	O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps;
	And now falls on her bed; and then starts up,
	And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries,
	And then down falls again.

ROMEO	As if that name,
	Shot from the deadly level of a gun,
	Did murder her; as that name's cursed hand
	Murder'd her kinsman. O, tell me, friar, tell me,
	In what vile part of this anatomy
	Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may sack
	The hateful mansion.

	[Drawing his sword]

FRIAR LAURENCE	Hold thy desperate hand:
	Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art:
	Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote
	The unreasonable fury of a beast:
	Unseemly woman in a seeming man!
	Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both!
	Thou hast amazed me: by my holy order,
	I thought thy disposition better temper'd.
	Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself?
	And stay thy lady too that lives in thee,
	By doing damned hate upon thyself?
	Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth?
	Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet
	In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst lose.
	Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit;
	Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all,
	And usest none in that true use indeed
	Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit:
	Thy noble shape is but a form of wax,
	Digressing from the valour of a man;
	Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury,
	Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish;
	Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love,
	Misshapen in the conduct of them both,
	Like powder in a skitless soldier's flask,
	Is set afire by thine own ignorance,
	And thou dismember'd with thine own defence.
	What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive,
	For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead;
	There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill thee,
	But thou slew'st Tybalt; there are thou happy too:
	The law that threaten'd death becomes thy friend
	And turns it to exile; there art thou happy:
	A pack of blessings lights up upon thy back;
	Happiness courts thee in her best array;
	But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench,
	Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love:
	Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.
	Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,
	Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her:
	But look thou stay not till the watch be set,
	For then thou canst not pass to Mantua;
	Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time
	To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
	Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back
	With twenty hundred thousand times more joy
	Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.
	Go before, nurse: commend me to thy lady;
	And bid her hasten all the house to bed,
	Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto:
	Romeo is coming.

Nurse	O Lord, I could have stay'd here all the night
	To hear good counsel: O, what learning is!
	My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.

ROMEO	Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.

Nurse	Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir:
	Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.

	[Exit]

ROMEO	How well my comfort is revived by this!

FRIAR LAURENCE	Go hence; good night; and here stands all your state:
	Either be gone before the watch be set,
	Or by the break of day disguised from hence:
	Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man,
	And he shall signify from time to time
	Every good hap to you that chances here:
	Give me thy hand; 'tis late: farewell; good night.

ROMEO	But that a joy past joy calls out on me,
	It were a grief, so brief to part with thee: Farewell.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT III



SCENE IV	A room in Capulet's house.


	[Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and PARIS]

CAPULET	Things have fall'n out, sir, so unluckily,
	That we have had no time to move our daughter:
	Look you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt dearly,
	And so did I:--Well, we were born to die.
	'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night:
	I promise you, but for your company,
	I would have been a-bed an hour ago.

PARIS	These times of woe afford no time to woo.
	Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter.

LADY CAPULET	I will, and know her mind early to-morrow;
	To-night she is mew'd up to her heaviness.

CAPULET	Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender
	Of my child's love: I think she will be ruled
	In all respects by me; nay, more, I doubt it not.
	Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;
	Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love;
	And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next--
	But, soft! what day is this?

PARIS	Monday, my lord,

CAPULET	Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon,
	O' Thursday let it be: o' Thursday, tell her,
	She shall be married to this noble earl.
	Will you be ready? do you like this haste?
	We'll keep no great ado,--a friend or two;
	For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
	It may be thought we held him carelessly,
	Being our kinsman, if we revel much:
	Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends,
	And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?

PARIS	My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow.

CAPULET	Well get you gone: o' Thursday be it, then.
	Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed,
	Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.
	Farewell, my lord. Light to my chamber, ho!
	Afore me! it is so very very late,
	That we may call it early by and by.
	Good night.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT III



SCENE V	Capulet's orchard.


	[Enter ROMEO and JULIET above, at the window]

JULIET	Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:
	It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
	That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear;
	Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree:
	Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

ROMEO	It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
	No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks
	Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:
	Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
	Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.
	I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

JULIET	Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I:
	It is some meteor that the sun exhales,
	To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
	And light thee on thy way to Mantua:
	Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone.

ROMEO	Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;
	I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
	I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye,
	'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;
	Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
	The vaulty heaven so high above our heads:
	I have more care to stay than will to go:
	Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.
	How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day.

JULIET	It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away!
	It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
	Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.
	Some say the lark makes sweet division;
	This doth not so, for she divideth us:
	Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes,
	O, now I would they had changed voices too!
	Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
	Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day,
	O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.

ROMEO	More light and light; more dark and dark our woes!

	[Enter Nurse, to the chamber]

Nurse	Madam!

JULIET	Nurse?

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

	[Exit]

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

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

	[He goeth down]

JULIET	Art thou gone so? love, lord, ay, husband, friend!
	I must hear from thee every day in the hour,
	For in a minute there are many days:
	O, by this count I shall be much in years
	Ere I again behold my Romeo!

ROMEO	Farewell!
	I will omit no opportunity
	That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.

JULIET	O think'st thou we shall ever meet again?

ROMEO	I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve
	For sweet discourses in our time to come.

JULIET	O God, I have an ill-divining soul!
	Methinks I see thee, now thou art below,
	As one dead in the bottom of a tomb:
	Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.

ROMEO	And trust me, love, in my eye so do you:
	Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu!

	[Exit]

JULIET	O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle:
	If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him.
	That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune;
	For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,
	But send him back.

LADY CAPULET	[Within]         Ho, daughter! are you up?

JULIET	Who is't that calls? is it my lady mother?
	Is she not down so late, or up so early?
	What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither?

	[Enter LADY CAPULET]

LADY CAPULET	Why, how now, Juliet!

JULIET	Madam, I am not well.

LADY CAPULET	Evermore weeping for your cousin's death?
	What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?
	An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live;
	Therefore, have done: some grief shows much of love;
	But much of grief shows still some want of wit.

JULIET	Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.

LADY CAPULET	So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend
	Which you weep for.

JULIET	Feeling so the loss,
	Cannot choose but ever weep the friend.

LADY CAPULET	Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death,
	As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him.

JULIET	What villain madam?

LADY CAPULET	That same villain, Romeo.

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

LADY CAPULET	That is, because the traitor murderer lives.

JULIET	Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands:
	Would none but I might venge my cousin's death!

LADY CAPULET	We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not:
	Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua,
	Where that same banish'd runagate doth live,
	Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram,
	That he shall soon keep Tybalt company:
	And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied.

JULIET	Indeed, I never shall be satisfied
	With Romeo, till I behold him--dead--
	Is my poor heart for a kinsman vex'd.
	Madam, if you could find out but a man
	To bear a poison, I would temper it;
	That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof,
	Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors
	To hear him named, and cannot come to him.
	To wreak the love I bore my cousin
	Upon his body that slaughter'd him!

LADY CAPULET	Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man.
	But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.

JULIET	And joy comes well in such a needy time:
	What are they, I beseech your ladyship?

LADY CAPULET	Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child;
	One who, to put thee from thy heaviness,
	Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy,
	That thou expect'st not nor I look'd not for.

JULIET	Madam, in happy time, what day is that?

LADY CAPULET	Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn,
	The gallant, young and noble gentleman,
	The County Paris, at Saint Peter's Church,
	Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.

JULIET	Now, by Saint Peter's Church and Peter too,
	He shall not make me there a joyful bride.
	I wonder at this haste; that I must wed
	Ere he, that should be husband, comes to woo.
	I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam,
	I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear,
	It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,
	Rather than Paris. These are news indeed!

LADY CAPULET	Here comes your father; tell him so yourself,
	And see how he will take it at your hands.

	[Enter CAPULET and Nurse]

CAPULET	When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew;
	But for the sunset of my brother's son
	It rains downright.
	How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?
	Evermore showering? In one little body
	Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind;
	For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
	Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,
	Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs;
	Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them,
	Without a sudden calm, will overset
	Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife!
	Have you deliver'd to her our decree?

LADY CAPULET	Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks.
	I would the fool were married to her grave!

CAPULET	Soft! take me with you, take me with you, wife.
	How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks?
	Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest,
	Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought
	So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?

JULIET	Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you have:
	Proud can I never be of what I hate;
	But thankful even for hate, that is meant love.

CAPULET	How now, how now, chop-logic! What is this?
	'Proud,' and 'I thank you,' and 'I thank you not;'
	And yet 'not proud,' mistress minion, you,
	Thank me no thankings, nor, proud me no prouds,
	But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next,
	To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church,
	Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.
	Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage!
	You tallow-face!

LADY CAPULET	                  Fie, fie! what, are you mad?

JULIET	Good father, I beseech you on my knees,
	Hear me with patience but to speak a word.

CAPULET	Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch!
	I tell thee what: get thee to church o' Thursday,
	Or never after look me in the face:
	Speak not, reply not, do not answer me;
	My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest
	That God had lent us but this only child;
	But now I see this one is one too much,
	And that we have a curse in having her:
	Out on her, hilding!

Nurse	God in heaven bless her!
	You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.

CAPULET	And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue,
	Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go.

Nurse	I speak no treason.

CAPULET	O, God ye god-den.

Nurse	May not one speak?

CAPULET	                  Peace, you mumbling fool!
	Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl;
	For here we need it not.

LADY CAPULET	You are too hot.

CAPULET	God's bread! it makes me mad:
	Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play,
	Alone, in company, still my care hath been
	To have her match'd: and having now provided
	A gentleman of noble parentage,
	Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd,
	Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts,
	Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man;
	And then to have a wretched puling fool,
	A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender,
	To answer 'I'll not wed; I cannot love,
	I am too young; I pray you, pardon me.'
	But, as you will not wed, I'll pardon you:
	Graze where you will you shall not house with me:
	Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest.
	Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise:
	An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend;
	And you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in
	the streets,
	For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,
	Nor what is mine shall never do thee good:
	Trust to't, bethink you; I'll not be forsworn.

	[Exit]

JULIET	Is there no pity sitting in the clouds,
	That sees into the bottom of my grief?
	O, sweet my mother, cast me not away!
	Delay this marriage for a month, a week;
	Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed
	In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.

LADY CAPULET	Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word:
	Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee.

	[Exit]

JULIET	O God!--O nurse, how shall this be prevented?
	My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven;
	How shall that faith return again to earth,
	Unless that husband send it me from heaven
	By leaving earth? comfort me, counsel me.
	Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems
	Upon so soft a subject as myself!
	What say'st thou? hast thou not a word of joy?
	Some comfort, nurse.

Nurse	Faith, here it is.
	Romeo is banish'd; and all the world to nothing,
	That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you;
	Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
	Then, since the case so stands as now it doth,
	I think it best you married with the county.
	O, he's a lovely gentleman!
	Romeo's a dishclout to him: an eagle, madam,
	Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye
	As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,
	I think you are happy in this second match,
	For it excels your first: or if it did not,
	Your first is dead; or 'twere as good he were,
	As living here and you no use of him.

JULIET	Speakest thou from thy heart?

Nurse	And from my soul too;
	Or else beshrew them both.

JULIET	Amen!

Nurse	What?

JULIET	Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much.
	Go in: and tell my lady I am gone,
	Having displeased my father, to Laurence' cell,
	To make confession and to be absolved.

Nurse	Marry, I will; and this is wisely done.

	[Exit]

JULIET	Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend!
	Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn,
	Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue
	Which she hath praised him with above compare
	So many thousand times? Go, counsellor;
	Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain.
	I'll to the friar, to know his remedy:
	If all else fail, myself have power to die.

	[Exit]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT IV



SCENE I	Friar Laurence's cell.


	[Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS]

FRIAR LAURENCE	On Thursday, sir? the time is very short.

PARIS	My father Capulet will have it so;
	And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.

FRIAR LAURENCE	You say you do not know the lady's mind:
	Uneven is the course, I like it not.

PARIS	Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,
	And therefore have I little talk'd of love;
	For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
	Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous
	That she doth give her sorrow so much sway,
	And in his wisdom hastes our marriage,
	To stop the inundation of her tears;
	Which, too much minded by herself alone,
	May be put from her by society:
	Now do you know the reason of this haste.

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

	[Enter JULIET]

PARIS	Happily met, my lady and my wife!

JULIET	That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.

PARIS	That may be must be, love, on Thursday next.

JULIET	What must be shall be.

FRIAR LAURENCE	That's a certain text.

PARIS	Come you to make confession to this father?

JULIET	To answer that, I should confess to you.

PARIS	Do not deny to him that you love me.

JULIET	I will confess to you that I love him.

PARIS	So will ye, I am sure, that you love me.

JULIET	If I do so, it will be of more price,
	Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.

PARIS	Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears.

JULIET	The tears have got small victory by that;
	For it was bad enough before their spite.

PARIS	Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report.

JULIET	That is no slander, sir, which is a truth;
	And what I spake, I spake it to my face.

PARIS	Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it.

JULIET	It may be so, for it is not mine own.
	Are you at leisure, holy father, now;
	Or shall I come to you at evening mass?

FRIAR LAURENCE	My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.
	My lord, we must entreat the time alone.

PARIS	God shield I should disturb devotion!
	Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye:
	Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss.

	[Exit]

JULIET	O shut the door! and when thou hast done so,
	Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help!

FRIAR LAURENCE	Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief;
	It strains me past the compass of my wits:
	I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it,
	On Thursday next be married to this county.

JULIET	Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this,
	Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it:
	If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help,
	Do thou but call my resolution wise,
	And with this knife I'll help it presently.
	God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands;
	And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd,
	Shall be the label to another deed,
	Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
	Turn to another, this shall slay them both:
	Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time,
	Give me some present counsel, or, behold,
	'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife
	Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that
	Which the commission of thy years and art
	Could to no issue of true honour bring.
	Be not so long to speak; I long to die,
	If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Hold, daughter: I do spy a kind of hope,
	Which craves as desperate an execution.
	As that is desperate which we would prevent.
	If, rather than to marry County Paris,
	Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself,
	Then is it likely thou wilt undertake
	A thing like death to chide away this shame,
	That copest with death himself to scape from it:
	And, if thou darest, I'll give thee remedy.

JULIET	O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
	From off the battlements of yonder tower;
	Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk
	Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears;
	Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house,
	O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones,
	With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls;
	Or bid me go into a new-made grave
	And hide me with a dead man in his shroud;
	Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble;
	And I will do it without fear or doubt,
	To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent
	To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow:
	To-morrow night look that thou lie alone;
	Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber:
	Take thou this vial, being then in bed,
	And this distilled liquor drink thou off;
	When presently through all thy veins shall run
	A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse
	Shall keep his native progress, but surcease:
	No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest;
	The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
	To paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall,
	Like death, when he shuts up the day of life;
	Each part, deprived of supple government,
	Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death:
	And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death
	Thou shalt continue two and forty hours,
	And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.
	Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes
	To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:
	Then, as the manner of our country is,
	In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier
	Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault
	Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.
	In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,
	Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift,
	And hither shall he come: and he and I
	Will watch thy waking, and that very night
	Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.
	And this shall free thee from this present shame;
	If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear,
	Abate thy valour in the acting it.

JULIET	Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear!

FRIAR LAURENCE	Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous
	In this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed
	To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord.

JULIET	Love give me strength! and strength shall help afford.
	Farewell, dear father!

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT IV



SCENE II	Hall in Capulet's house.


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

CAPULET	So many guests invite as here are writ.

	[Exit First Servant]

	Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks.

Second Servant	You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try if they
	can lick their fingers.

CAPULET	How canst thou try them so?

Second Servant	Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his
	own fingers: therefore he that cannot lick his
	fingers goes not with me.

CAPULET	Go, be gone.

	[Exit Second Servant]

	We shall be much unfurnished for this time.
	What, is my daughter gone to Friar Laurence?

Nurse	Ay, forsooth.

CAPULET	Well, he may chance to do some good on her:
	A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is.

Nurse	See where she comes from shrift with merry look.

	[Enter JULIET]

CAPULET	How now, my headstrong! where have you been gadding?

JULIET	Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin
	Of disobedient opposition
	To you and your behests, and am enjoin'd
	By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here,
	And beg your pardon: pardon, I beseech you!
	Henceforward I am ever ruled by you.

CAPULET	Send for the county; go tell him of this:
	I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning.

JULIET	I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell;
	And gave him what becomed love I might,
	Not step o'er the bounds of modesty.

CAPULET	Why, I am glad on't; this is well: stand up:
	This is as't should be. Let me see the county;
	Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither.
	Now, afore God! this reverend holy friar,
	Our whole city is much bound to him.

JULIET	Nurse, will you go with me into my closet,
	To help me sort such needful ornaments
	As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow?

LADY CAPULET	No, not till Thursday; there is time enough.

CAPULET	Go, nurse, go with her: we'll to church to-morrow.

	[Exeunt JULIET and Nurse]

LADY  CAPULET	We shall be short in our provision:
	'Tis now near night.

CAPULET	Tush, I will stir about,
	And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife:
	Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her;
	I'll not to bed to-night; let me alone;
	I'll play the housewife for this once. What, ho!
	They are all forth. Well, I will walk myself
	To County Paris, to prepare him up
	Against to-morrow: my heart is wondrous light,
	Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT IV



SCENE III	Juliet's chamber.


	[Enter JULIET and Nurse]

JULIET	Ay, those attires are best: but, gentle nurse,
	I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night,
	For I have need of many orisons
	To move the heavens to smile upon my state,
	Which, well thou know'st, is cross, and full of sin.

	[Enter LADY CAPULET]

LADY CAPULET	What, are you busy, ho? need you my help?

JULIET	No, madam; we have cull'd such necessaries
	As are behoveful for our state to-morrow:
	So please you, let me now be left alone,
	And let the nurse this night sit up with you;
	For, I am sure, you have your hands full all,
	In this so sudden business.

LADY CAPULET	Good night:
	Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need.

	[Exeunt LADY CAPULET and Nurse]

JULIET	Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.
	I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins,
	That almost freezes up the heat of life:
	I'll call them back again to comfort me:
	Nurse! What should she do here?
	My dismal scene I needs must act alone.
	Come, vial.
	What if this mixture do not work at all?
	Shall I be married then to-morrow morning?
	No, no: this shall forbid it: lie thou there.

	[Laying down her dagger]

	What if it be a poison, which the friar
	Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead,
	Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd,
	Because he married me before to Romeo?
	I fear it is: and yet, methinks, it should not,
	For he hath still been tried a holy man.
	How if, when I am laid into the tomb,
	I wake before the time that Romeo
	Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point!
	Shall I not, then, be stifled in the vault,
	To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,
	And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes?
	Or, if I live, is it not very like,
	The horrible conceit of death and night,
	Together with the terror of the place,--
	As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,
	Where, for these many hundred years, the bones
	Of all my buried ancestors are packed:
	Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,
	Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say,
	At some hours in the night spirits resort;--
	Alack, alack, is it not like that I,
	So early waking, what with loathsome smells,
	And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth,
	That living mortals, hearing them, run mad:--
	O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught,
	Environed with all these hideous fears?
	And madly play with my forefather's joints?
	And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud?
	And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone,
	As with a club, dash out my desperate brains?
	O, look! methinks I see my cousin's ghost
	Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body
	Upon a rapier's point: stay, Tybalt, stay!
	Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee.

	[She falls upon her bed, within the curtains]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT IV



SCENE IV	Hall in Capulet's house.


	[Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse]

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

Nurse	They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.

	[Enter CAPULET]

CAPULET	Come, stir, stir, stir! the second cock hath crow'd,
	The curfew-bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock:
	Look to the baked meats, good Angelica:
	Spare not for the cost.

Nurse	Go, you cot-quean, go,
	Get you to bed; faith, You'll be sick to-morrow
	For this night's watching.

CAPULET	No, not a whit: what! I have watch'd ere now
	All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick.

LADY CAPULET	Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time;
	But I will watch you from such watching now.

	[Exeunt LADY CAPULET and Nurse]

CAPULET	A jealous hood, a jealous hood!

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

		          Now, fellow,
	What's there?

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

CAPULET	Make haste, make haste.

	[Exit First Servant]

		  Sirrah, fetch drier logs:
	Call Peter, he will show thee where they are.

Second Servant	I have a head, sir, that will find out logs,
	And never trouble Peter for the matter.

	[Exit]

CAPULET	Mass, and well said; a merry whoreson, ha!
	Thou shalt be logger-head. Good faith, 'tis day:
	The county will be here with music straight,
	For so he said he would: I hear him near.

	[Music within]

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

	[Re-enter Nurse]

	Go waken Juliet, go and trim her up;
	I'll go and chat with Paris: hie, make haste,
	Make haste; the bridegroom he is come already:
	Make haste, I say.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT IV



SCENE V	Juliet's chamber.


	[Enter Nurse]

Nurse	Mistress! what, mistress! Juliet! fast, I warrant her, she:
	Why, lamb! why, lady! fie, you slug-a-bed!
	Why, love, I say! madam! sweet-heart! why, bride!
	What, not a word? you take your pennyworths now;
	Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant,
	The County Paris hath set up his rest,
	That you shall rest but little. God forgive me,
	Marry, and amen, how sound is she asleep!
	I must needs wake her. Madam, madam, madam!
	Ay, let the county take you in your bed;
	He'll fright you up, i' faith. Will it not be?

	[Undraws the curtains]

	What, dress'd! and in your clothes! and down again!
	I must needs wake you; Lady! lady! lady!
	Alas, alas! Help, help! my lady's dead!
	O, well-a-day, that ever I was born!
	Some aqua vitae, ho! My lord! my lady!

	[Enter LADY CAPULET]

LADY CAPULET	What noise is here?

Nurse	O lamentable day!

LADY CAPULET	What is the matter?

Nurse	Look, look! O heavy day!

LADY CAPULET	O me, O me! My child, my only life,
	Revive, look up, or I will die with thee!
	Help, help! Call help.

	[Enter CAPULET]

CAPULET	For shame, bring Juliet forth; her lord is come.

Nurse	She's dead, deceased, she's dead; alack the day!

LADY CAPULET	Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead!

CAPULET	Ha! let me see her: out, alas! she's cold:
	Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff;
	Life and these lips have long been separated:
	Death lies on her like an untimely frost
	Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.

Nurse	O lamentable day!

LADY CAPULET	                  O woful time!

CAPULET	Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail,
	Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak.

	[Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS, with Musicians]

FRIAR LAURENCE	Come, is the bride ready to go to church?

CAPULET	Ready to go, but never to return.
	O son! the night before thy wedding-day
	Hath Death lain with thy wife. There she lies,
	Flower as she was, deflowered by him.
	Death is my son-in-law, Death is my heir;
	My daughter he hath wedded: I will die,
	And leave him all; life, living, all is Death's.

PARIS	Have I thought long to see this morning's face,
	And doth it give me such a sight as this?

LADY CAPULET	Accursed, unhappy, wretched, hateful day!
	Most miserable hour that e'er time saw
	In lasting labour of his pilgrimage!
	But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,
	But one thing to rejoice and solace in,
	And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight!

Nurse	O woe! O woful, woful, woful day!
	Most lamentable day, most woful day,
	That ever, ever, I did yet behold!
	O day! O day! O day! O hateful day!
	Never was seen so black a day as this:
	O woful day, O woful day!

PARIS	Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spited, slain!
	Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd,
	By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown!
	O love! O life! not life, but love in death!

CAPULET	Despised, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!
	Uncomfortable time, why camest thou now
	To murder, murder our solemnity?
	O child! O child! my soul, and not my child!
	Dead art thou! Alack! my child is dead;
	And with my child my joys are buried.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives not
	In these confusions. Heaven and yourself
	Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath all,
	And all the better is it for the maid:
	Your part in her you could not keep from death,
	But heaven keeps his part in eternal life.
	The most you sought was her promotion;
	For 'twas your heaven she should be advanced:
	And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced
	Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself?
	O, in this love, you love your child so ill,
	That you run mad, seeing that she is well:
	She's not well married that lives married long;
	But she's best married that dies married young.
	Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary
	On this fair corse; and, as the custom is,
	In all her best array bear her to church:
	For though fond nature bids us an lament,
	Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.

CAPULET	All things that we ordained festival,
	Turn from their office to black funeral;
	Our instruments to melancholy bells,
	Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast,
	Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change,
	Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,
	And all things change them to the contrary.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Sir, go you in; and, madam, go with him;
	And go, Sir Paris; every one prepare
	To follow this fair corse unto her grave:
	The heavens do lour upon you for some ill;
	Move them no more by crossing their high will.

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

First Musician	Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be gone.

Nurse	Honest goodfellows, ah, put up, put up;
	For, well you know, this is a pitiful case.

	[Exit]

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

	[Enter PETER]

PETER	Musicians, O, musicians, 'Heart's ease, Heart's
	ease:' O, an you will have me live, play 'Heart's ease.'

First Musician	Why 'Heart's ease?'

PETER	O, musicians, because my heart itself plays 'My
	heart is full of woe:' O, play me some merry dump,
	to comfort me.

First Musician	Not a dump we; 'tis no time to play now.

PETER	You will not, then?

First Musician	No.

PETER	I will then give it you soundly.

First Musician	What will you give us?

PETER	No money, on my faith, but the gleek;
	I will give you the minstrel.

First Musician	Then I will give you the serving-creature.

PETER	Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on
	your pate. I will carry no crotchets: I'll re you,
	I'll fa you; do you note me?

First Musician	An you re us and fa us, you note us.

Second Musician	Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit.

PETER	Then have at you with my wit! I will dry-beat you
	with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger. Answer
	me like men:
	'When griping grief the heart doth wound,
	And doleful dumps the mind oppress,
	Then music with her silver sound'--
	why 'silver sound'? why 'music with her silver
	sound'? What say you, Simon Catling?

Musician	Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.

PETER	Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck?

Second Musician	I say 'silver sound,' because musicians sound for silver.

PETER	Pretty too! What say you, James Soundpost?

Third Musician	Faith, I know not what to say.

PETER	O, I cry you mercy; you are the singer: I will say
	for you. It is 'music with her silver sound,'
	because musicians have no gold for sounding:
	'Then music with her silver sound
	With speedy help doth lend redress.'

	[Exit]

First Musician	What a pestilent knave is this same!

Second Musician	Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the
	mourners, and stay dinner.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT V



SCENE I	Mantua. A street.


	[Enter ROMEO]

ROMEO	If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep,
	My dreams presage some joyful news at hand:
	My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne;
	And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit
	Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.
	I dreamt my lady came and found me dead--
	Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave
	to think!--
	And breathed such life with kisses in my lips,
	That I revived, and was an emperor.
	Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd,
	When but love's shadows are so rich in joy!

	[Enter BALTHASAR, booted]

	News from Verona!--How now, Balthasar!
	Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar?
	How doth my lady? Is my father well?
	How fares my Juliet? that I ask again;
	For nothing can be ill, if she be well.

BALTHASAR	Then she is well, and nothing can be ill:
	Her body sleeps in Capel's monument,
	And her immortal part with angels lives.
	I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault,
	And presently took post to tell it you:
	O, pardon me for bringing these ill news,
	Since you did leave it for my office, sir.

ROMEO	Is it even so? then I defy you, stars!
	Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper,
	And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night.

BALTHASAR	I do beseech you, sir, have patience:
	Your looks are pale and wild, and do import
	Some misadventure.

ROMEO	                  Tush, thou art deceived:
	Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do.
	Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?

BALTHASAR	No, my good lord.

ROMEO	                  No matter: get thee gone,
	And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight.

	[Exit BALTHASAR]

	Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night.
	Let's see for means: O mischief, thou art swift
	To enter in the thoughts of desperate men!
	I do remember an apothecary,--
	And hereabouts he dwells,--which late I noted
	In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,
	Culling of simples; meagre were his looks,
	Sharp misery had worn him to the bones:
	And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,
	An alligator stuff'd, and other skins
	Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves
	A beggarly account of empty boxes,
	Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds,
	Remnants of packthread and old cakes of roses,
	Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show.
	Noting this penury, to myself I said
	'An if a man did need a poison now,
	Whose sale is present death in Mantua,
	Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.'
	O, this same thought did but forerun my need;
	And this same needy man must sell it me.
	As I remember, this should be the house.
	Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.
	What, ho! apothecary!

	[Enter Apothecary]

Apothecary	Who calls so loud?

ROMEO	Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor:
	Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have
	A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear
	As will disperse itself through all the veins
	That the life-weary taker may fall dead
	And that the trunk may be discharged of breath
	As violently as hasty powder fired
	Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.

Apothecary	Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law
	Is death to any he that utters them.

ROMEO	Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness,
	And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks,
	Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes,
	Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back;
	The world is not thy friend nor the world's law;
	The world affords no law to make thee rich;
	Then be not poor, but break it, and take this.

Apothecary	My poverty, but not my will, consents.

ROMEO	I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.

Apothecary	Put this in any liquid thing you will,
	And drink it off; and, if you had the strength
	Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight.

ROMEO	There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls,
	Doing more murders in this loathsome world,
	Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.
	I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none.
	Farewell: buy food, and get thyself in flesh.
	Come, cordial and not poison, go with me
	To Juliet's grave; for there must I use thee.

	[Exeunt]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT V



SCENE II	Friar Laurence's cell.


	[Enter FRIAR JOHN]

FRIAR JOHN	Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho!

	[Enter FRIAR LAURENCE]

FRIAR LAURENCE	This same should be the voice of Friar John.
	Welcome from Mantua: what says Romeo?
	Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.

FRIAR JOHN	Going to find a bare-foot brother out
	One of our order, to associate me,
	Here in this city visiting the sick,
	And finding him, the searchers of the town,
	Suspecting that we both were in a house
	Where the infectious pestilence did reign,
	Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth;
	So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo?

FRIAR JOHN	I could not send it,--here it is again,--
	Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,
	So fearful were they of infection.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood,
	The letter was not nice but full of charge
	Of dear import, and the neglecting it
	May do much danger. Friar John, go hence;
	Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight
	Unto my cell.

FRIAR JOHN	Brother, I'll go and bring it thee.

	[Exit]

FRIAR LAURENCE	Now must I to the monument alone;
	Within three hours will fair Juliet wake:
	She will beshrew me much that Romeo
	Hath had no notice of these accidents;
	But I will write again to Mantua,
	And keep her at my cell till Romeo come;
	Poor living corse, closed in a dead man's tomb!

	[Exit]




	ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT V



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


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

PARIS	Give me thy torch, boy: hence, and stand aloof:
	Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.
	Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along,
	Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;
	So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread,
	Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves,
	But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me,
	As signal that thou hear'st something approach.
	Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.

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

	[Retires]

PARIS	Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew,--
	O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones;--
	Which with sweet water nightly I will dew,
	Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans:
	The obsequies that I for thee will keep
	Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep.

	[The Page whistles]

	The boy gives warning something doth approach.
	What cursed foot wanders this way to-night,
	To cross my obsequies and true love's rite?
	What with a torch! muffle me, night, awhile.

	[Retires]

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

ROMEO	Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron.
	Hold, take this letter; early in the morning
	See thou deliver it to my lord and father.
	Give me the light: upon thy life, I charge thee,
	Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof,
	And do not interrupt me in my course.
	Why I descend into this bed of death,
	Is partly to behold my lady's face;
	But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger
	A precious ring, a ring that I must use
	In dear employment: therefore hence, be gone:
	But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry
	In what I further shall intend to do,
	By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint
	And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs:
	The time and my intents are savage-wild,
	More fierce and more inexorable far
	Than empty tigers or the roaring sea.

BALTHASAR	I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.

ROMEO	So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that:
	Live, and be prosperous: and farewell, good fellow.

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

	[Retires]

ROMEO	Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,
	Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth,
	Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,
	And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food!

	[Opens the tomb]

PARIS	This is that banish'd haughty Montague,
	That murder'd my love's cousin, with which grief,
	It is supposed, the fair creature died;
	And here is come to do some villanous shame
	To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.

	[Comes forward]

	Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague!
	Can vengeance be pursued further than death?
	Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee:
	Obey, and go with me; for thou must die.

ROMEO	I must indeed; and therefore came I hither.
	Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man;
	Fly hence, and leave me: think upon these gone;
	Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth,
	Put not another sin upon my head,
	By urging me to fury: O, be gone!
	By heaven, I love thee better than myself;
	For I come hither arm'd against myself:
	Stay not, be gone; live, and hereafter say,
	A madman's mercy bade thee run away.

PARIS	I do defy thy conjurations,
	And apprehend thee for a felon here.

ROMEO	Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy!

	[They fight]

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

	[Exit]

PARIS	O, I am slain!

	[Falls]

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

	[Dies]

ROMEO	In faith, I will. Let me peruse this face.
	Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris!
	What said my man, when my betossed soul
	Did not attend him as we rode? I think
	He told me Paris should have married Juliet:
	Said he not so? or did I dream it so?
	Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet,
	To think it was so? O, give me thy hand,
	One writ with me in sour misfortune's book!
	I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave;
	A grave? O no! a lantern, slaughter'd youth,
	For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes
	This vault a feasting presence full of light.
	Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd.

	[Laying PARIS in the tomb]

	How oft when men are at the point of death
	Have they been merry! which their keepers call
	A lightning before death: O, how may I
	Call this a lightning? O my love! my wife!
	Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath,
	Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:
	Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet
	Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks,
	And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
	Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?
	O, what more favour can I do to thee,
	Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain
	To sunder his that was thine enemy?
	Forgive me, cousin! Ah, dear Juliet,
	Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe
	That unsubstantial death is amorous,
	And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
	Thee here in dark to be his paramour?
	For fear of that, I still will stay with thee;
	And never from this palace of dim night
	Depart again: here, here will I remain
	With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here
	Will I set up my everlasting rest,
	And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
	From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last!
	Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you
	The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
	A dateless bargain to engrossing death!
	Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide!
	Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
	The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!
	Here's to my love!

	[Drinks]

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

	[Dies]

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

FRIAR LAURENCE	Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night
	Have my old feet stumbled at graves! Who's there?

BALTHASAR	Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend,
	What torch is yond, that vainly lends his light
	To grubs and eyeless skulls? as I discern,
	It burneth in the Capel's monument.

BALTHASAR	It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master,
	One that you love.

FRIAR LAURENCE	                  Who is it?

BALTHASAR	Romeo.

FRIAR LAURENCE	How long hath he been there?

BALTHASAR	Full half an hour.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Go with me to the vault.

BALTHASAR	I dare not, sir
	My master knows not but I am gone hence;
	And fearfully did menace me with death,
	If I did stay to look on his intents.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Stay, then; I'll go alone. Fear comes upon me:
	O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing.

BALTHASAR	As I did sleep under this yew-tree here,
	I dreamt my master and another fought,
	And that my master slew him.

FRIAR LAURENCE	Romeo!

	[Advances]

	Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains
	The stony entrance of this sepulchre?
	What mean these masterless and gory swords
	To lie discolour'd by this place of peace?

	[Enters the tomb]

	Romeo! O, pale! Who else? what, Paris too?
	And steep'd in blood? Ah, what an unkind hour
	Is guilty of this lamentable chance!
	The lady stirs.

	[JULIET wakes]

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

	[Noise within]

FRIAR LAURENCE	I hear some noise. Lady, come from that nest
	Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep:
	A greater power than we can contradict
	Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away.
	Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead;
	And Paris too. Come, I'll dispose of thee
	Among a sisterhood of holy nuns:
	Stay not to question, for the watch is coming;
	Come, go, good Juliet,

	[Noise again]

		 I dare no longer stay.

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

	[Exit FRIAR LAURENCE]

	What's here? a cup, closed in my true love's hand?
	Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end:
	O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop
	To help me after? I will kiss thy lips;
	Haply some poison yet doth hang on them,
	To make die with a restorative.

	[Kisses him]

	Thy lips are warm.

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

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

	[Snatching ROMEO's dagger]

	This is thy sheath;

	[Stabs herself]

	there rust, and let me die.

	[Falls on ROMEO's body, and dies]

	[Enter Watch, with the Page of PARIS]

PAGE	This is the place; there, where the torch doth burn.

First Watchman	The ground is bloody; search about the churchyard:
	Go, some of you, whoe'er you find attach.
	Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain,
	And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead,
	Who here hath lain these two days buried.
	Go, tell the prince: run to the Capulets:
	Raise up the Montagues: some others search:
	We see the ground whereon these woes do lie;
	But the true ground of all these piteous woes
	We cannot without circumstance descry.

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

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

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

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

Third Watchman	Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs and weeps:
	We took this mattock and this spade from him,
	As he was coming from this churchyard side.

First Watchman	A great suspicion: stay the friar too.

	[Enter the PRINCE and Attendants]

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

	[Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and others]

CAPULET	What should it be, that they so shriek abroad?

LADY CAPULET	The people in the street cry Romeo,
	Some Juliet, and some Paris; and all run,
	With open outcry toward our monument.

PRINCE	What fear is this which startles in our ears?

First Watchman	Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain;
	And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before,
	Warm and new kill'd.

PRINCE	Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes.

First Watchman	Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's man;
	With instruments upon them, fit to open
	These dead men's tombs.

CAPULET	O heavens! O wife, look how our daughter bleeds!
	This dagger hath mista'en--for, lo, his house
	Is empty on the back of Montague,--
	And it mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom!

LADY CAPULET	O me! this sight of death is as a bell,
	That warns my old age to a sepulchre.

	[Enter MONTAGUE and others]

PRINCE	Come, Montague; for thou art early up,
	To see thy son and heir more early down.

MONTAGUE	Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night;
	Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath:
	What further woe conspires against mine age?

PRINCE	Look, and thou shalt see.

MONTAGUE	O thou untaught! what manners is in this?
	To press before thy father to a grave?

PRINCE	Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while,
	Till we can clear these ambiguities,
	And know their spring, their head, their
	true descent;
	And then will I be general of your woes,
	And lead you even to death: meantime forbear,
	And let mischance be slave to patience.
	Bring forth the parties of suspicion.

FRIAR LAURENCE	I am the greatest, able to do least,
	Yet most suspected, as the time and place
	Doth make against me of this direful murder;
	And here I stand, both to impeach and purge
	Myself condemned and myself excused.

PRINCE	Then say at once what thou dost know in this.

FRIAR LAURENCE	I will be brief, for my short date of breath
	Is not so long as is a tedious tale.
	Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet;
	And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife:
	I married them; and their stol'n marriage-day
	Was Tybalt's dooms-day, whose untimely death
	Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from the city,
	For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pined.
	You, to remove that siege of grief from her,
	Betroth'd and would have married her perforce
	To County Paris: then comes she to me,
	And, with wild looks, bid me devise some mean
	To rid her from this second marriage,
	Or in my cell there would she kill herself.
	Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art,
	A sleeping potion; which so took effect
	As I intended, for it wrought on her
	The form of death: meantime I writ to Romeo,
	That he should hither come as this dire night,
	To help to take her from her borrow'd grave,
	Being the time the potion's force should cease.
	But he which bore my letter, Friar John,
	Was stay'd by accident, and yesternight
	Return'd my letter back. Then all alone
	At the prefixed hour of her waking,
	Came I to take her from her kindred's vault;
	Meaning to keep her closely at my cell,
	Till I conveniently could send to Romeo:
	But when I came, some minute ere the time
	Of her awaking, here untimely lay
	The noble Paris and true Romeo dead.
	She wakes; and I entreated her come forth,
	And bear this work of heaven with patience:
	But then a noise did scare me from the tomb;
	And she, too desperate, would not go with me,
	But, as it seems, did violence on herself.
	All this I know; and to the marriage
	Her nurse is privy: and, if aught in this
	Miscarried by my fault, let my old life
	Be sacrificed, some hour before his time,
	Unto the rigour of severest law.

PRINCE	We still have known thee for a holy man.
	Where's Romeo's man? what can he say in this?

BALTHASAR	I brought my master news of Juliet's death;
	And then in post he came from Mantua
	To this same place, to this same monument.
	This letter he early bid me give his father,
	And threatened me with death, going in the vault,
	I departed not and left him there.

PRINCE	Give me the letter; I will look on it.
	Where is the county's page, that raised the watch?
	Sirrah, what made your master in this place?

PAGE	He came with flowers to strew his lady's grave;
	And bid me stand aloof, and so I did:
	Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb;
	And by and by my master drew on him;
	And then I ran away to call the watch.

PRINCE	This letter doth make good the friar's words,
	Their course of love, the tidings of her death:
	And here he writes that he did buy a poison
	Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal
	Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet.
	Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague!
	See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate,
	That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love.
	And I for winking at your discords too
	Have lost a brace of kinsmen: all are punish'd.

CAPULET	O brother Montague, give me thy hand:
	This is my daughter's jointure, for no more
	Can I demand.

MONTAGUE	                  But I can give thee more:
	For I will raise her statue in pure gold;
	That while Verona by that name is known,
	There shall no figure at such rate be set
	As that of true and faithful Juliet.

CAPULET	As rich shall Romeo's by his lady's lie;
	Poor sacrifices of our enmity!

PRINCE	A glooming peace this morning with it brings;
	The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head:
	Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
	Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:
	For never was a story of more woe
	Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

	[Exeunt]




	
	
	
	
	
	
	
	JULIUS CAESAR


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


JULIUS CAESAR	(CAESAR:)


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


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


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


FLAVIUS	|
	|   tribunes.
MARULLUS	|


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

A Soothsayer	(Soothsayer:)

CINNA	a poet. (CINNA THE POET:)

Another Poet	(Poet:)


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


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


PINDARUS	servant to Cassius.

CALPURNIA	wife to Caesar.

PORTIA	wife to Brutus.

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


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




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT I



SCENE I	Rome. A street.


	[Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and certain Commoners]

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

First Commoner	Why, sir, a carpenter.

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

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

MARULLUS	But what trade art thou? answer me directly.

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

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

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

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

Second Commoner	Why, sir, cobble you.

FLAVIUS	Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

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

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

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

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

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

	[Exeunt all the Commoners]

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

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

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

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT I



SCENE II	A public place.



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

CAESAR	Calpurnia!

CASCA	         Peace, ho! Caesar speaks.

CAESAR	Calpurnia!

CALPURNIA	Here, my lord.

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

ANTONY	Caesar, my lord?

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

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

CAESAR	Set on; and leave no ceremony out.

	[Flourish]

Soothsayer	Caesar!

CAESAR	Ha! who calls?

CASCA	Bid every noise be still: peace yet again!

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

Soothsayer	Beware the ides of March.

CAESAR	What man is that?

BRUTUS	A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.

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

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

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

Soothsayer	Beware the ides of March.

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

	[Sennet. Exeunt all except BRUTUS and CASSIUS]

CASSIUS	Will you go see the order of the course?

BRUTUS	Not I.

CASSIUS	I pray you, do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

	[Flourish, and shout]

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

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

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

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

	[Shout. Flourish]

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

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

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

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

BRUTUS	The games are done and Caesar is returning.

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

	[Re-enter CAESAR and his Train]

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

CASSIUS	Casca will tell us what the matter is.

CAESAR	Antonius!

ANTONY	Caesar?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BRUTUS	I should not then ask Casca what had chanced.

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

BRUTUS	What was the second noise for?

CASCA	Why, for that too.

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

CASCA	Why, for that too.

BRUTUS	Was the crown offered him thrice?

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

CASSIUS	Who offered him the crown?

CASCA	Why, Antony.

BRUTUS	Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca.

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

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

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

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

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

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

BRUTUS	What said he when he came unto himself?

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

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

CASCA	Ay.

CASSIUS	Did Cicero say any thing?

CASCA	Ay, he spoke Greek.

CASSIUS	To what effect?

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

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

CASCA	No, I am promised forth.

CASSIUS	Will you dine with me to-morrow?

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

CASSIUS	Good: I will expect you.

CASCA	Do so. Farewell, both.

	[Exit]

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

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

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

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

	[Exit BRUTUS]

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

	[Exit]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT I



SCENE III	The same. A street.




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

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

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

CICERO	Why, saw you any thing more wonderful?

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

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

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

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

CASCA	Farewell, Cicero.

	[Exit CICERO]

	[Enter CASSIUS]

CASSIUS	Who's there?

CASCA	                  A Roman.

CASSIUS	Casca, by your voice.

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

CASSIUS	A very pleasing night to honest men.

CASCA	Who ever knew the heavens menace so?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

	[Thunder still]

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

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

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

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

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

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

	[Enter CINNA]

	Cinna, where haste you so?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CASSIUS	That done, repair to Pompey's theatre.

	[Exit CINNA]

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

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

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

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT II



SCENE I	Rome. BRUTUS's orchard.


	[Enter BRUTUS]

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

	[Enter LUCIUS]

LUCIUS	Call'd you, my lord?

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

LUCIUS	I will, my lord.

	[Exit]

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

	[Re-enter LUCIUS]

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

	[Gives him the letter]

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

LUCIUS	I know not, sir.

BRUTUS	Look in the calendar, and bring me word.

LUCIUS	I will, sir.

	[Exit]

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

	[Opens the letter and reads]

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

	[Re-enter LUCIUS]

LUCIUS	Sir, March is wasted fourteen days.

	[Knocking within]

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

	[Exit LUCIUS]

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

	[Re-enter LUCIUS]

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

BRUTUS	Is he alone?

LUCIUS	No, sir, there are moe with him.

BRUTUS	Do you know them?

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

BRUTUS	Let 'em enter.

	[Exit LUCIUS]

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

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

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

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

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

BRUTUS	                  He is welcome hither.

CASSIUS	This, Decius Brutus.

BRUTUS	He is welcome too.

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

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

CASSIUS	Shall I entreat a word?

	[BRUTUS and CASSIUS whisper]

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

CASCA	No.

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

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

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

CASSIUS	And let us swear our resolution.

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

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

CASCA	Let us not leave him out.

CINNA	No, by no means.

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

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

CASSIUS	Then leave him out.

CASCA	Indeed he is not fit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

	[Clock strikes]

BRUTUS	Peace! count the clock.

CASSIUS	The clock hath stricken three.

TREBONIUS	'Tis time to part.

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

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

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

BRUTUS	By the eighth hour: is that the uttermost?

CINNA	Be that the uttermost, and fail not then.

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

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

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

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

	[Exeunt all but BRUTUS]

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

	[Enter PORTIA]

PORTIA	Brutus, my lord!

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

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

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

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

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

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

BRUTUS	Kneel not, gentle Portia.

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

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

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

BRUTUS	O ye gods,

	Render me worthy of this noble wife!

	[Knocking within]

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

	[Exit PORTIA]

		Lucius, who's that knocks?

	[Re-enter LUCIUS with LIGARIUS]

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

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

LIGARIUS	Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BRUTUS	Follow me, then.

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT II



SCENE II	CAESAR's house.


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

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

	[Enter a Servant]

Servant	My lord?

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

Servant	I will, my lord.

	[Exit]

	[Enter CALPURNIA]

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

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

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

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

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

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

	[Re-enter Servant]

		       What say the augurers?

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

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

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

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

	[Enter DECIUS BRUTUS]

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

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

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

CALPURNIA	Say he is sick.

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

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

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

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

CAESAR	And this way have you well expounded it.

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

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

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

	And look where Publius is come to fetch me.

PUBLIUS	Good morrow, Caesar.

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

BRUTUS	Caesar, 'tis strucken eight.

CAESAR	I thank you for your pains and courtesy.

	[Enter ANTONY]

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

ANTONY	So to most noble Caesar.

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

TREBONIUS	Caesar, I will:

	[Aside]

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

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

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

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT II



SCENE III	A street near the Capitol.


	[Enter ARTEMIDORUS, reading a paper]

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

	[Exit]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT II



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


	[Enter PORTIA and LUCIUS]

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

LUCIUS	To know my errand, madam.

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

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

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

LUCIUS	I hear none, madam.

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

LUCIUS	Sooth, madam, I hear nothing.

	[Enter the Soothsayer]

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

Soothsayer	At mine own house, good lady.

PORTIA	What is't o'clock?

Soothsayer	                  About the ninth hour, lady.

PORTIA	Is Caesar yet gone to the Capitol?

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

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

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

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

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

	[Exit]

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

	[Exeunt severally]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT III



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


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

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

Soothsayer	Ay, Caesar; but not gone.

ARTEMIDORUS	Hail, Caesar! read this schedule.

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

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

CAESAR	What touches us ourself shall be last served.

ARTEMIDORUS	Delay not, Caesar; read it instantly.

CAESAR	What, is the fellow mad?

PUBLIUS	Sirrah, give place.

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

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

POPILIUS	I wish your enterprise to-day may thrive.

CASSIUS	What enterprise, Popilius?

POPILIUS	Fare you well.

	[Advances to CAESAR]

BRUTUS	What said Popilius Lena?

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

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

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

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

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

	[Exeunt ANTONY and TREBONIUS]

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

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

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

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

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

	[Kneeling]

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

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

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

CAESAR	What, Brutus!

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

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

CINNA	O Caesar,--

CAESAR	          Hence! wilt thou lift up Olympus?

DECIUS BRUTUS	Great Caesar,--

CAESAR	                  Doth not Brutus bootless kneel?

CASCA	Speak, hands for me!

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

CAESAR	Et tu, Brute! Then fall, Caesar.

	[Dies]

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

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

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

CASCA	Go to the pulpit, Brutus.

DECIUS BRUTUS	And Cassius too.

BRUTUS	Where's Publius?

CINNA	Here, quite confounded with this mutiny.

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

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

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

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

	[Re-enter TREBONIUS]

CASSIUS	                  Where is Antony?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DECIUS BRUTUS	What, shall we forth?

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

	[Enter a Servant]

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

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

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

Servant	                  I'll fetch him presently.

	[Exit]

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

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

BRUTUS	But here comes Antony.

	[Re-enter ANTONY]

		 Welcome, Mark Antony.

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

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

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

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

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

CASSIUS	Mark Antony,--

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

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

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

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

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

BRUTUS	You shall, Mark Antony.

CASSIUS	Brutus, a word with you.

	[Aside to BRUTUS]

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

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

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

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

ANTONY	Be it so.
	I do desire no more.

BRUTUS	Prepare the body then, and follow us.

	[Exeunt all but ANTONY]

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

	[Enter a Servant]

	You serve Octavius Caesar, do you not?

Servant	I do, Mark Antony.

ANTONY	Caesar did write for him to come to Rome.

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

	[Seeing the body]

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

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

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

	[Exeunt with CAESAR's body]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT III



SCENE II	The Forum.


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

Citizens	We will be satisfied; let us be satisfied.

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

First Citizen	                  I will hear Brutus speak.

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

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

Third Citizen	The noble Brutus is ascended: silence!

BRUTUS	Be patient till the last.

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

All	None, Brutus, none.

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

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

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

All	Live, Brutus! live, live!

First Citizen	Bring him with triumph home unto his house.

Second Citizen	Give him a statue with his ancestors.

Third Citizen	Let him be Caesar.

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

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

BRUTUS	My countrymen,--

Second Citizen	Peace, silence! Brutus speaks.

First Citizen	Peace, ho!

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

	[Exit]

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

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

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

	[Goes into the pulpit]

Fourth Citizen	What does he say of Brutus?

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

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

First Citizen	This Caesar was a tyrant.

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

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

ANTONY	You gentle Romans,--

Citizens	Peace, ho! let us hear him.

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

First Citizen	Methinks there is much reason in his sayings.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fourth Citizen	They were traitors: honourable men!

All	The will! the testament!

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

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

Several Citizens	Come down.

Second Citizen	Descend.

Third Citizen	You shall have leave.

	[ANTONY comes down]

Fourth Citizen	A ring; stand round.

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

Second Citizen	Room for Antony, most noble Antony.

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

Several Citizens	Stand back; room; bear back.

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

First Citizen	O piteous spectacle!

Second Citizen	O noble Caesar!

Third Citizen	O woful day!

Fourth Citizen	O traitors, villains!

First Citizen	O most bloody sight!

Second Citizen	We will be revenged.

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

ANTONY	Stay, countrymen.

First Citizen	Peace there! hear the noble Antony.

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

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

All	We'll mutiny.

First Citizen	We'll burn the house of Brutus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Third Citizen	O royal Caesar!

ANTONY	Hear me with patience.

All	Peace, ho!

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

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

Second Citizen	Go fetch fire.

Third Citizen	Pluck down benches.

Fourth Citizen	Pluck down forms, windows, any thing.

	[Exeunt Citizens with the body]

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

	[Enter a Servant]

		                  How now, fellow!

Servant	Sir, Octavius is already come to Rome.

ANTONY	Where is he?

Servant	He and Lepidus are at Caesar's house.

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

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

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

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT III



SCENE III	A street.


	[Enter CINNA the poet]

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

	[Enter Citizens]

First Citizen	What is your name?

Second Citizen	Whither are you going?

Third Citizen	Where do you dwell?

Fourth Citizen	Are you a married man or a bachelor?

Second Citizen	Answer every man directly.

First Citizen	Ay, and briefly.

Fourth Citizen	Ay, and wisely.

Third Citizen	Ay, and truly, you were best.

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

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

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

First Citizen	As a friend or an enemy?

CINNA THE POET	As a friend.

Second Citizen	That matter is answered directly.

Fourth Citizen	For your dwelling,--briefly.

CINNA THE POET	Briefly, I dwell by the Capitol.

Third Citizen	Your name, sir, truly.

CINNA THE POET	Truly, my name is Cinna.

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

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

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

CINNA THE POET	I am not Cinna the conspirator.

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

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

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT IV



SCENE I	A house in Rome.


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

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

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

LEPIDUS	I do consent--

OCTAVIUS	                  Prick him down, Antony.

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

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

LEPIDUS	What, shall I find you here?

OCTAVIUS	Or here, or at the Capitol.

	[Exit LEPIDUS]

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

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

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

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

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

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

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT IV



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


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

BRUTUS	Stand, ho!

LUCILIUS	Give the word, ho! and stand.

BRUTUS	What now, Lucilius! is Cassius near?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BRUTUS	Hark! he is arrived.

	[Low march within]

	March gently on to meet him.

	[Enter CASSIUS and his powers]

CASSIUS	Stand, ho!

BRUTUS	Stand, ho! Speak the word along.

First Soldier	Stand!

Second Soldier	Stand!

Third Soldier	Stand!

CASSIUS	Most noble brother, you have done me wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT IV



SCENE III	Brutus's tent.


	[Enter BRUTUS and CASSIUS]

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

BRUTUS	You wronged yourself to write in such a case.

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

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

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

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

CASSIUS	Chastisement!

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

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

BRUTUS	Go to; you are not, Cassius.

CASSIUS	I am.

BRUTUS	I say you are not.

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

BRUTUS	Away, slight man!

CASSIUS	Is't possible?

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

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

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

CASSIUS	Is it come to this?

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

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

BRUTUS	If you did, I care not.

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

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

CASSIUS	I durst not!

BRUTUS	No.

CASSIUS	What, durst not tempt him!

BRUTUS	For your life you durst not!

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

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

CASSIUS	I denied you not.

BRUTUS	You did.

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

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

CASSIUS	You love me not.

BRUTUS	                  I do not like your faults.

CASSIUS	A friendly eye could never see such faults.

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

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

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

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

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

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

BRUTUS	And my heart too.

CASSIUS	                  O Brutus!

BRUTUS	What's the matter?

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

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

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

LUCILIUS	[Within]  You shall not come to them.

Poet	[Within]  Nothing but death shall stay me.

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

CASSIUS	How now! what's the matter?

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

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

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

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

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

CASSIUS	                  Away, away, be gone.

	[Exit Poet]

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

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

	[Exeunt LUCILIUS and TITINIUS]

BRUTUS	Lucius, a bowl of wine!

	[Exit LUCIUS]

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

BRUTUS	O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs.

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

BRUTUS	No man bears sorrow better. Portia is dead.

CASSIUS	Ha! Portia!

BRUTUS	She is dead.

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

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

CASSIUS	And died so?

BRUTUS	                  Even so.

CASSIUS	O ye immortal gods!

	[Re-enter LUCIUS, with wine and taper]

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

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

BRUTUS	Come in, Titinius!

	[Exit LUCIUS]

	[Re-enter TITINIUS, with MESSALA]

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

CASSIUS	Portia, art thou gone?

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

MESSALA	Myself have letters of the selfsame tenor.

BRUTUS	With what addition?

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

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

CASSIUS	Cicero one!

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

BRUTUS	No, Messala.

MESSALA	Nor nothing in your letters writ of her?

BRUTUS	Nothing, Messala.

MESSALA	                  That, methinks, is strange.

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

MESSALA	No, my lord.

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

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

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

MESSALA	Even so great men great losses should endure.

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

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

CASSIUS	I do not think it good.

BRUTUS	Your reason?

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

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

CASSIUS	Hear me, good brother.

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

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

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

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

BRUTUS	Lucius!

	[Enter LUCIUS]
	My gown.

	[Exit LUCIUS]

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

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

BRUTUS	Every thing is well.

CASSIUS	Good night, my lord.

BRUTUS	Good night, good brother.


TITINIUS	|
	| Good night, Lord Brutus.
MESSALA	|


BRUTUS	Farewell, every one.

	[Exeunt all but BRUTUS]

	[Re-enter LUCIUS, with the gown]

	Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument?

LUCIUS	Here in the tent.

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

LUCIUS	Varro and Claudius!

	[Enter VARRO and CLAUDIUS]

VARRO	Calls my lord?

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

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

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

	[VARRO and CLAUDIUS lie down]

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

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

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

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

LUCIUS	It is my duty, sir.

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

LUCIUS	I have slept, my lord, already.

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

	[Music, and a song]

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

	[Enter the Ghost of CAESAR]

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

GHOST	Thy evil spirit, Brutus.

BRUTUS	Why comest thou?

GHOST	To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi.

BRUTUS	Well; then I shall see thee again?

GHOST	Ay, at Philippi.

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

	[Exit Ghost]

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

LUCIUS	The strings, my lord, are false.

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

LUCIUS	My lord?

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

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

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

LUCIUS	Nothing, my lord.

BRUTUS	Sleep again, Lucius. Sirrah Claudius!

	[To VARRO]

	Fellow thou, awake!

VARRO	My lord?

CLAUDIUS	My lord?

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


VARRO	|
	|  Did we, my lord?
CLAUDIUS	|


BRUTUS	Ay: saw you any thing?

VARRO	No, my lord, I saw nothing.

CLAUDIUS	Nor I, my lord.

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


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


	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT V



SCENE I	The plains of Philippi.


	[Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, and their army]

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

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

	[Enter a Messenger]

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

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

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

ANTONY	Why do you cross me in this exigent?

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

	[March]

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

BRUTUS	They stand, and would have parley.

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

OCTAVIUS	Mark Antony, shall we give sign of battle?

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

OCTAVIUS	Stir not until the signal.

BRUTUS	Words before blows: is it so, countrymen?

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

BRUTUS	Good words are better than bad strokes, Octavius.

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

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

ANTONY	Not stingless too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ANTONY	Old Cassius still!

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

	[Exeunt OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, and their army]

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

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

LUCILIUS	[Standing forth]	My lord?

	[BRUTUS and LUCILIUS converse apart]

CASSIUS	Messala!

MESSALA	[Standing forth]  What says my general?

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

MESSALA	Believe not so.

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

BRUTUS	Even so, Lucilius.

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

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

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

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

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

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

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT V



SCENE II	The same. The field of battle.


	[Alarum. Enter BRUTUS and MESSALA]

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

	[Loud alarum]

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

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT V



SCENE III	Another part of the field.


	[Alarums. Enter CASSIUS and TITINIUS]

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

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

	[Enter PINDARUS]

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

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

TITINIUS	They are, my lord.

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

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

	[Exit]

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

	[PINDARUS ascends the hill]

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

PINDARUS	[Above]  O my lord!

CASSIUS	What news?

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

	[Shout]

	And, hark! they shout for joy.

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

	[PINDARUS descends]

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

	[PINDARUS stabs him]

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

	[Dies]

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

	[Exit]

	[Re-enter TITINIUS with MESSALA]

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

TITINIUS	These tidings will well comfort Cassius.

MESSALA	Where did you leave him?

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

MESSALA	Is not that he that lies upon the ground?

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

MESSALA	Is not that he?

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

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

TITINIUS	What, Pindarus! where art thou, Pindarus?

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

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

	[Exit MESSALA]

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

	[Kills himself]

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

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

MESSALA	Lo, yonder, and Titinius mourning it.

BRUTUS	Titinius' face is upward.

CATO	He is slain.

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

	[Low alarums]

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

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

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT V



SCENE IV	Another part of the field.


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

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

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

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

	[Exit]

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

First Soldier	Yield, or thou diest.

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

	[Offering money]

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

First Soldier	We must not. A noble prisoner!

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

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

	[Enter ANTONY]

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

ANTONY	Where is he?

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

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

	[Exeunt]




	JULIUS CAESAR


ACT V



SCENE V	Another part of the field.


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

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

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

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

	[Whispers]

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

BRUTUS	Peace then! no words.

CLITUS	I'll rather kill myself.

BRUTUS	Hark thee, Dardanius.

	[Whispers]

DARDANIUS	Shall I do such a deed?

CLITUS	O Dardanius!

DARDANIUS	O Clitus!

CLITUS	What ill request did Brutus make to thee?

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

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

BRUTUS	Come hither, good Volumnius; list a word.

VOLUMNIUS	What says my lord?

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

VOLUMNIUS	Not so, my lord.

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

	[Low alarums]

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

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

	[Alarum still]

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

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

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

CLITUS	Fly, my lord, fly.

BRUTUS	                  Hence! I will follow.

	[Exeunt CLITUS, DARDANIUS, and VOLUMNIUS]

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

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

BRUTUS	Farewell, good Strato.

	[Runs on his sword]

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

	[Dies]

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

OCTAVIUS	What man is that?

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

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

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

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

STRATO	Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you.

OCTAVIUS	Do so, good Messala.

MESSALA	How died my master, Strato?

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

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

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

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

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


CLAUDIUS	king of Denmark. (KING CLAUDIUS:)

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

POLONIUS	lord chamberlain. (LORD POLONIUS:)

HORATIO	friend to Hamlet.

LAERTES	son to Polonius.

LUCIANUS	nephew to the king.


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


	A Gentleman, (Gentlemen:)

	A Priest. (First Priest:)


MARCELLUS	|
	|  officers.
BERNARDO	|


FRANCISCO	a soldier.

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

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

FORTINBRAS	prince of Norway. (PRINCE FORTINBRAS:)

	A Captain.

	English Ambassadors. (First Ambassador:)

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

OPHELIA	daughter to Polonius.

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

	Ghost of Hamlet's Father. (Ghost:)



SCENE	Denmark.




	HAMLET


ACT I



SCENE I	Elsinore. A platform before the castle.


	[FRANCISCO at his post. Enter to him BERNARDO]

BERNARDO	Who's there?

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

BERNARDO	Long live the king!

FRANCISCO	Bernardo?

BERNARDO	He.

FRANCISCO	You come most carefully upon your hour.

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

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

BERNARDO	Have you had quiet guard?

FRANCISCO	Not a mouse stirring.

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

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

	[Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS]

HORATIO	Friends to this ground.

MARCELLUS	And liegemen to the Dane.

FRANCISCO	Give you good night.

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

FRANCISCO	Bernardo has my place.
	Give you good night.

	[Exit]

MARCELLUS	Holla! Bernardo!

BERNARDO	Say,
	What, is Horatio there?

HORATIO	A piece of him.

BERNARDO	Welcome, Horatio: welcome, good Marcellus.

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

BERNARDO	I have seen nothing.

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

HORATIO	Tush, tush, 'twill not appear.

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

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

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

	[Enter Ghost]

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

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

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

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

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

BERNARDO	It would be spoke to.

MARCELLUS	Question it, Horatio.

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

MARCELLUS	It is offended.

BERNARDO	                  See, it stalks away!

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

	[Exit Ghost]

MARCELLUS	'Tis gone, and will not answer.

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

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

MARCELLUS	                  Is it not like the king?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

	[Re-enter Ghost]

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

	[Cock crows]

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

MARCELLUS	Shall I strike at it with my partisan?

HORATIO	Do, if it will not stand.

BERNARDO	'Tis here!

HORATIO	'Tis here!

MARCELLUS	'Tis gone!

	[Exit Ghost]

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

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

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

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

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

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

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


ACT I



SCENE II	A room of state in the castle.


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

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


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


KING CLAUDIUS	We doubt it nothing: heartily farewell.

	[Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HAMLET	Ay, madam, it is common.

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

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

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

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

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

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

	[Exeunt all but HAMLET]

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

	[Enter HORATIO, MARCELLUS, and BERNARDO]

HORATIO	Hail to your lordship!

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

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

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

MARCELLUS	My good lord--

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

HORATIO	A truant disposition, good my lord.

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

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

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

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

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

HORATIO	Where, my lord?

HAMLET	                  In my mind's eye, Horatio.

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

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

HORATIO	My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.

HAMLET	Saw? who?

HORATIO	My lord, the king your father.

HAMLET	The king my father!

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

HAMLET	For God's love, let me hear.

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

HAMLET	But where was this?

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

HAMLET	Did you not speak to it?

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

HAMLET	'Tis very strange.

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

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


MARCELLUS	|
	|	We do, my lord.
BERNARDO	|


HAMLET	Arm'd, say you?


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


HAMLET	From top to toe?


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


HAMLET	Then saw you not his face?

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

HAMLET	What, look'd he frowningly?

HORATIO	A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.

HAMLET	Pale or red?

HORATIO	Nay, very pale.

HAMLET	                  And fix'd his eyes upon you?

HORATIO	Most constantly.

HAMLET	                  I would I had been there.

HORATIO	It would have much amazed you.

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

HORATIO	While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.


MARCELLUS	|
	| Longer, longer.
BERNARDO	|


HORATIO	Not when I saw't.

HAMLET	                  His beard was grizzled--no?

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

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

HORATIO	I warrant it will.

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

All	                  Our duty to your honour.

HAMLET	Your loves, as mine to you: farewell.

	[Exeunt all but HAMLET]

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

	[Exit]




	HAMLET


ACT I



SCENE III	A room in Polonius' house.


	[Enter LAERTES and OPHELIA]

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

OPHELIA	Do you doubt that?

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

OPHELIA	       No more but so?

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

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

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

	[Enter POLONIUS]

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

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

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

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

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

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

LAERTES	Farewell.

	[Exit]

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

OPHELIA	So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OPHELIA	I shall obey, my lord.

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


ACT I



SCENE IV	The platform.


	[Enter HAMLET, HORATIO, and MARCELLUS]

HAMLET	The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.

HORATIO	It is a nipping and an eager air.

HAMLET	What hour now?

HORATIO	                  I think it lacks of twelve.

HAMLET	No, it is struck.

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

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

	What does this mean, my lord?

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

HORATIO	Is it a custom?

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

HORATIO	Look, my lord, it comes!

	[Enter Ghost]

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

	[Ghost beckons HAMLET]

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

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

HORATIO	No, by no means.

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

HORATIO	Do not, my lord.

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

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

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

MARCELLUS	You shall not go, my lord.

HAMLET	Hold off your hands.

HORATIO	Be ruled; you shall not go.

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

	[Exeunt Ghost and HAMLET]

HORATIO	He waxes desperate with imagination.

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

HORATIO	Have after. To what issue will this come?

MARCELLUS	Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

HORATIO	Heaven will direct it.

MARCELLUS	Nay, let's follow him.

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


ACT I



SCENE V	Another part of the platform.


	[Enter GHOST and HAMLET]

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

Ghost	Mark me.

HAMLET	       I will.

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

HAMLET	Alas, poor ghost!

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

HAMLET	Speak; I am bound to hear.

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

HAMLET	What?

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

HAMLET	O God!

Ghost	Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.

HAMLET	Murder!

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

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

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

HAMLET	O my prophetic soul! My uncle!

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

	[Exit]

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

	[Writing]

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


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


MARCELLUS	[Within]	Lord Hamlet,--

HORATIO	[Within]	Heaven secure him!

HAMLET	So be it!

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

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

	[Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS]

MARCELLUS	How is't, my noble lord?

HORATIO	What news, my lord?

HAMLET	O, wonderful!

HORATIO	                  Good my lord, tell it.

HAMLET	No; you'll reveal it.

HORATIO	Not I, my lord, by heaven.

MARCELLUS	Nor I, my lord.

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


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


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

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

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

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

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

HORATIO	There's no offence, my lord.

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

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

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


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


HAMLET	Nay, but swear't.

HORATIO	In faith,
	My lord, not I.

MARCELLUS	                  Nor I, my lord, in faith.

HAMLET	Upon my sword.

MARCELLUS	                  We have sworn, my lord, already.

HAMLET	Indeed, upon my sword, indeed.

Ghost	[Beneath]  Swear.

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

HORATIO	                  Propose the oath, my lord.

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

Ghost	[Beneath]  Swear.

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

Ghost	[Beneath]  Swear.

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

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

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

Ghost	[Beneath]  Swear.

HAMLET	Rest, rest, perturbed spirit!

	[They swear]

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

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


ACT II



SCENE I	A room in POLONIUS' house.


	[Enter POLONIUS and REYNALDO]

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

REYNALDO	I will, my lord.

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

REYNALDO	                  My lord, I did intend it.

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

REYNALDO	Ay, very well, my lord.

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

REYNALDO	As gaming, my lord.

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

REYNALDO	My lord, that would dishonour him.

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

REYNALDO	But, my good lord,--

LORD POLONIUS	Wherefore should you do this?

REYNALDO	Ay, my lord,
	I would know that.

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

REYNALDO	Very good, my lord.

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

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

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

REYNALDO	My lord, I have.

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

REYNALDO	Good my lord!

LORD POLONIUS	Observe his inclination in yourself.

REYNALDO	I shall, my lord.

LORD POLONIUS	And let him ply his music.

REYNALDO	Well, my lord.

LORD POLONIUS	Farewell!

	[Exit REYNALDO]

	[Enter OPHELIA]

	How now, Ophelia! what's the matter?

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

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

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

LORD POLONIUS	Mad for thy love?

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

LORD POLONIUS	What said he?

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

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

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

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

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


ACT II



SCENE II	A room in the castle.


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

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

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

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

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

KING CLAUDIUS	Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern.

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

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

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Ay, amen!

	[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and some
	Attendants]

	[Enter POLONIUS]

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

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

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

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

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

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

	[Exit POLONIUS]

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

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

KING CLAUDIUS	Well, we shall sift him.

	[Re-enter POLONIUS, with VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS]

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

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

	[Giving a paper]

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

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

	[Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS]

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

QUEEN GERTRUDE	                  More matter, with less art.

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

	[Reads]

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

	[Reads]

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

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Came this from Hamlet to her?

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

	[Reads]

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

KING CLAUDIUS	But how hath she
	Received his love?

LORD POLONIUS	                  What do you think of me?

KING CLAUDIUS	As of a man faithful and honourable.

LORD POLONIUS	I would fain prove so. But what might you think,
	When I had seen this hot love on the wing--
	As I perceived it, I must tell you that,
	Before my daughter told me--what might you,
	Or my dear majesty your queen here, think,
	If I had play'd the desk or table-book,
	Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb,
	Or look'd upon this love with idle sight;
	What might you think? No, I went round to work,
	And my young mistress thus I did bespeak:
	'Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star;
	This must not be:' and then I precepts gave her,
	That she should lock herself from his resort,
	Admit no messengers, receive no tokens.
	Which done, she took the fruits of my advice;
	And he, repulsed--a short tale to make--
	Fell into a sadness, then into a fast,
	Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness,
	Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension,
	Into the madness wherein now he raves,
	And all we mourn for.

KING CLAUDIUS	Do you think 'tis this?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	It may be, very likely.

LORD POLONIUS	Hath there been such a time--I'd fain know that--
	That I have positively said 'Tis so,'
	When it proved otherwise?

KING CLAUDIUS	Not that I know.

LORD POLONIUS	[Pointing to his head and shoulder]

	Take this from this, if this be otherwise:
	If circumstances lead me, I will find
	Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed
	Within the centre.

KING CLAUDIUS	                  How may we try it further?

LORD POLONIUS	You know, sometimes he walks four hours together
	Here in the lobby.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	                  So he does indeed.

LORD POLONIUS	At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him:
	Be you and I behind an arras then;
	Mark the encounter: if he love her not
	And be not from his reason fall'n thereon,
	Let me be no assistant for a state,
	But keep a farm and carters.

KING CLAUDIUS	We will try it.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	But, look, where sadly the poor wretch comes reading.

LORD POLONIUS	Away, I do beseech you, both away:
	I'll board him presently.

	[Exeunt KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, and
	Attendants]

	[Enter HAMLET, reading]

		    O, give me leave:
	How does my good Lord Hamlet?

HAMLET	Well, God-a-mercy.

LORD POLONIUS	Do you know me, my lord?

HAMLET	Excellent well; you are a fishmonger.

LORD POLONIUS	Not I, my lord.

HAMLET	Then I would you were so honest a man.

LORD POLONIUS	Honest, my lord!

HAMLET	Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be
	one man picked out of ten thousand.

LORD POLONIUS	That's very true, my lord.

HAMLET	For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a
	god kissing carrion,--Have you a daughter?

LORD POLONIUS	I have, my lord.

HAMLET	Let her not walk i' the sun: conception is a
	blessing: but not as your daughter may conceive.
	Friend, look to 't.

LORD POLONIUS	[Aside]  How say you by that? Still harping on my
	daughter: yet he knew me not at first; he said I
	was a fishmonger: he is far gone, far gone: and
	truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for
	love; very near this. I'll speak to him again.
	What do you read, my lord?

HAMLET	Words, words, words.

LORD POLONIUS	What is the matter, my lord?

HAMLET	Between who?

LORD POLONIUS	I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.

HAMLET	Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue says here
	that old men have grey beards, that their faces are
	wrinkled, their eyes purging thick amber and
	plum-tree gum and that they have a plentiful lack of
	wit, together with most weak hams: all which, sir,
	though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet
	I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down, for
	yourself, sir, should be old as I am, if like a crab
	you could go backward.

LORD POLONIUS	[Aside]  Though this be madness, yet there is method
	in 't. Will you walk out of the air, my lord?

HAMLET	Into my grave.

LORD POLONIUS	Indeed, that is out o' the air.

	[Aside]

	How pregnant sometimes his replies are! a happiness
	that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity
	could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will
	leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of
	meeting between him and my daughter.--My honourable
	lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you.

HAMLET	You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will
	more willingly part withal: except my life, except
	my life, except my life.

LORD POLONIUS	Fare you well, my lord.

HAMLET	These tedious old fools!

	[Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

LORD POLONIUS	You go to seek the Lord Hamlet; there he is.

ROSENCRANTZ	[To POLONIUS]  God save you, sir!

	[Exit POLONIUS]

GUILDENSTERN	My honoured lord!

ROSENCRANTZ	My most dear lord!

HAMLET	My excellent good friends! How dost thou,
	Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both?

ROSENCRANTZ	As the indifferent children of the earth.

GUILDENSTERN	Happy, in that we are not over-happy;
	On fortune's cap we are not the very button.

HAMLET	Nor the soles of her shoe?

ROSENCRANTZ	Neither, my lord.

HAMLET	Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of
	her favours?

GUILDENSTERN	'Faith, her privates we.

HAMLET	In the secret parts of fortune? O, most true; she
	is a strumpet. What's the news?

ROSENCRANTZ	None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest.

HAMLET	Then is doomsday near: but your news is not true.
	Let me question more in particular: what have you,
	my good friends, deserved at the hands of fortune,
	that she sends you to prison hither?

GUILDENSTERN	Prison, my lord!

HAMLET	Denmark's a prison.

ROSENCRANTZ	Then is the world one.

HAMLET	A goodly one; in which there are many confines,
	wards and dungeons, Denmark being one o' the worst.

ROSENCRANTZ	We think not so, my lord.

HAMLET	Why, then, 'tis none to you; for there is nothing
	either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: to me
	it is a prison.

ROSENCRANTZ	Why then, your ambition makes it one; 'tis too
	narrow for your mind.

HAMLET	O God, I could be bounded in a nut shell and count
	myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I
	have bad dreams.

GUILDENSTERN	Which dreams indeed are ambition, for the very
	substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.

HAMLET	A dream itself is but a shadow.

ROSENCRANTZ	Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a
	quality that it is but a shadow's shadow.

HAMLET	Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and
	outstretched heroes the beggars' shadows. Shall we
	to the court? for, by my fay, I cannot reason.


ROSENCRANTZ	|
	| We'll wait upon you.
GUILDENSTERN	|


HAMLET	No such matter: I will not sort you with the rest
	of my servants, for, to speak to you like an honest
	man, I am most dreadfully attended. But, in the
	beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore?

ROSENCRANTZ	To visit you, my lord; no other occasion.

HAMLET	Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I
	thank you: and sure, dear friends, my thanks are
	too dear a halfpenny. Were you not sent for? Is it
	your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come,
	deal justly with me: come, come; nay, speak.

GUILDENSTERN	What should we say, my lord?

HAMLET	Why, any thing, but to the purpose. You were sent
	for; and there is a kind of confession in your looks
	which your modesties have not craft enough to colour:
	I know the good king and queen have sent for you.

ROSENCRANTZ	To what end, my lord?

HAMLET	That you must teach me. But let me conjure you, by
	the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of
	our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved
	love, and by what more dear a better proposer could
	charge you withal, be even and direct with me,
	whether you were sent for, or no?

ROSENCRANTZ	[Aside to GUILDENSTERN]  What say you?

HAMLET	[Aside]  Nay, then, I have an eye of you.--If you
	love me, hold not off.

GUILDENSTERN	My lord, we were sent for.

HAMLET	I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation
	prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king
	and queen moult no feather. I have of late--but
	wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all
	custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily
	with my disposition that this goodly frame, the
	earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most
	excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave
	o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted
	with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to
	me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
	What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason!
	how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how
	express and admirable! in action how like an angel!
	in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the
	world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me,
	what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not
	me: no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling
	you seem to say so.

ROSENCRANTZ	My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.

HAMLET	Why did you laugh then, when I said 'man delights not me'?

ROSENCRANTZ	To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what
	lenten entertainment the players shall receive from
	you: we coted them on the way; and hither are they
	coming, to offer you service.

HAMLET	He that plays the king shall be welcome; his majesty
	shall have tribute of me; the adventurous knight
	shall use his foil and target; the lover shall not
	sigh gratis; the humourous man shall end his part
	in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose
	lungs are tickled o' the sere; and the lady shall
	say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt
	for't. What players are they?

ROSENCRANTZ	Even those you were wont to take delight in, the
	tragedians of the city.

HAMLET	How chances it they travel? their residence, both
	in reputation and profit, was better both ways.

ROSENCRANTZ	I think their inhibition comes by the means of the
	late innovation.

HAMLET	Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was
	in the city? are they so followed?

ROSENCRANTZ	No, indeed, are they not.

HAMLET	How comes it? do they grow rusty?

ROSENCRANTZ	Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace: but
	there is, sir, an aery of children, little eyases,
	that cry out on the top of question, and are most
	tyrannically clapped for't: these are now the
	fashion, and so berattle the common stages--so they
	call them--that many wearing rapiers are afraid of
	goose-quills and dare scarce come thither.

HAMLET	What, are they children? who maintains 'em? how are
	they escoted? Will they pursue the quality no
	longer than they can sing? will they not say
	afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common
	players--as it is most like, if their means are no
	better--their writers do them wrong, to make them
	exclaim against their own succession?

ROSENCRANTZ	'Faith, there has been much to do on both sides; and
	the nation holds it no sin to tarre them to
	controversy: there was, for a while, no money bid
	for argument, unless the poet and the player went to
	cuffs in the question.

HAMLET	Is't possible?

GUILDENSTERN	O, there has been much throwing about of brains.

HAMLET	Do the boys carry it away?

ROSENCRANTZ	Ay, that they do, my lord; Hercules and his load too.

HAMLET	It is not very strange; for mine uncle is king of
	Denmark, and those that would make mows at him while
	my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, an
	hundred ducats a-piece for his picture in little.
	'Sblood, there is something in this more than
	natural, if philosophy could find it out.

	[Flourish of trumpets within]

GUILDENSTERN	There are the players.

HAMLET	Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands,
	come then: the appurtenance of welcome is fashion
	and ceremony: let me comply with you in this garb,
	lest my extent to the players, which, I tell you,
	must show fairly outward, should more appear like
	entertainment than yours. You are welcome: but my
	uncle-father and aunt-mother are deceived.

GUILDENSTERN	In what, my dear lord?

HAMLET	I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is
	southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.

	[Enter POLONIUS]

LORD POLONIUS	Well be with you, gentlemen!

HAMLET	Hark you, Guildenstern; and you too: at each ear a
	hearer: that great baby you see there is not yet
	out of his swaddling-clouts.

ROSENCRANTZ	Happily he's the second time come to them; for they
	say an old man is twice a child.

HAMLET	I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players;
	mark it. You say right, sir: o' Monday morning;
	'twas so indeed.

LORD POLONIUS	My lord, I have news to tell you.

HAMLET	My lord, I have news to tell you.
	When Roscius was an actor in Rome,--

LORD POLONIUS	The actors are come hither, my lord.

HAMLET	Buz, buz!

LORD POLONIUS	Upon mine honour,--

HAMLET	Then came each actor on his ass,--

LORD POLONIUS	The best actors in the world, either for tragedy,
	comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical,
	historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical-
	comical-historical-pastoral, scene individable, or
	poem unlimited: Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor
	Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the
	liberty, these are the only men.

HAMLET	O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou!

LORD POLONIUS	What a treasure had he, my lord?

HAMLET	Why,
	'One fair daughter and no more,
	The which he loved passing well.'

LORD POLONIUS	[Aside]  Still on my daughter.

HAMLET	Am I not i' the right, old Jephthah?

LORD POLONIUS	If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter
	that I love passing well.

HAMLET	Nay, that follows not.

LORD POLONIUS	What follows, then, my lord?

HAMLET	Why,
	'As by lot, God wot,'
	and then, you know,
	'It came to pass, as most like it was,'--
	the first row of the pious chanson will show you
	more; for look, where my abridgement comes.

	[Enter four or five Players]

	You are welcome, masters; welcome, all. I am glad
	to see thee well. Welcome, good friends. O, my old
	friend! thy face is valenced since I saw thee last:
	comest thou to beard me in Denmark? What, my young
	lady and mistress! By'r lady, your ladyship is
	nearer to heaven than when I saw you last, by the
	altitude of a chopine. Pray God, your voice, like
	apiece of uncurrent gold, be not cracked within the
	ring. Masters, you are all welcome. We'll e'en
	to't like French falconers, fly at any thing we see:
	we'll have a speech straight: come, give us a taste
	of your quality; come, a passionate speech.

First Player	What speech, my lord?

HAMLET	I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was
	never acted; or, if it was, not above once; for the
	play, I remember, pleased not the million; 'twas
	caviare to the general: but it was--as I received
	it, and others, whose judgments in such matters
	cried in the top of mine--an excellent play, well
	digested in the scenes, set down with as much
	modesty as cunning. I remember, one said there
	were no sallets in the lines to make the matter
	savoury, nor no matter in the phrase that might
	indict the author of affectation; but called it an
	honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very
	much more handsome than fine. One speech in it I
	chiefly loved: 'twas Aeneas' tale to Dido; and
	thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of
	Priam's slaughter: if it live in your memory, begin
	at this line: let me see, let me see--
	'The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast,'--
	it is not so:--it begins with Pyrrhus:--
	'The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms,
	Black as his purpose, did the night resemble
	When he lay couched in the ominous horse,
	Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd
	With heraldry more dismal; head to foot
	Now is he total gules; horridly trick'd
	With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons,
	Baked and impasted with the parching streets,
	That lend a tyrannous and damned light
	To their lord's murder: roasted in wrath and fire,
	And thus o'er-sized with coagulate gore,
	With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
	Old grandsire Priam seeks.'
	So, proceed you.

LORD POLONIUS	'Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and
	good discretion.

First Player	'Anon he finds him
	Striking too short at Greeks; his antique sword,
	Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,
	Repugnant to command: unequal match'd,
	Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage strikes wide;
	But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword
	The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium,
	Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top
	Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash
	Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear: for, lo! his sword,
	Which was declining on the milky head
	Of reverend Priam, seem'd i' the air to stick:
	So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood,
	And like a neutral to his will and matter,
	Did nothing.
	But, as we often see, against some storm,
	A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still,
	The bold winds speechless and the orb below
	As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder
	Doth rend the region, so, after Pyrrhus' pause,
	Aroused vengeance sets him new a-work;
	And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall
	On Mars's armour forged for proof eterne
	With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword
	Now falls on Priam.
	Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! All you gods,
	In general synod 'take away her power;
	Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel,
	And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven,
	As low as to the fiends!'

LORD POLONIUS	This is too long.

HAMLET	It shall to the barber's, with your beard. Prithee,
	say on: he's for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he
	sleeps: say on: come to Hecuba.

First Player	'But who, O, who had seen the mobled queen--'

HAMLET	'The mobled queen?'

LORD POLONIUS	That's good; 'mobled queen' is good.

First Player	'Run barefoot up and down, threatening the flames
	With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head
	Where late the diadem stood, and for a robe,
	About her lank and all o'er-teemed loins,
	A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up;
	Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd,
	'Gainst Fortune's state would treason have
	pronounced:
	But if the gods themselves did see her then
	When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
	In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs,
	The instant burst of clamour that she made,
	Unless things mortal move them not at all,
	Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven,
	And passion in the gods.'

LORD POLONIUS	Look, whether he has not turned his colour and has
	tears in's eyes. Pray you, no more.

HAMLET	'Tis well: I'll have thee speak out the rest soon.
	Good my lord, will you see the players well
	bestowed? Do you hear, let them be well used; for
	they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the
	time: after your death you were better have a bad
	epitaph than their ill report while you live.

LORD POLONIUS	My lord, I will use them according to their desert.

HAMLET	God's bodykins, man, much better: use every man
	after his desert, and who should 'scape whipping?
	Use them after your own honour and dignity: the less
	they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty.
	Take them in.

LORD POLONIUS	Come, sirs.

HAMLET	Follow him, friends: we'll hear a play to-morrow.

	[Exit POLONIUS with all the Players but the First]

	Dost thou hear me, old friend; can you play the
	Murder of Gonzago?

First Player	Ay, my lord.

HAMLET	We'll ha't to-morrow night. You could, for a need,
	study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines, which
	I would set down and insert in't, could you not?

First Player	Ay, my lord.

HAMLET	Very well. Follow that lord; and look you mock him
	not.

	[Exit First Player]

	My good friends, I'll leave you till night: you are
	welcome to Elsinore.

ROSENCRANTZ	Good my lord!

HAMLET	Ay, so, God be wi' ye;

	[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

		  Now I am alone.
	O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!
	Is it not monstrous that this player here,
	But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
	Could force his soul so to his own conceit
	That from her working all his visage wann'd,
	Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect,
	A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
	With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing!
	For Hecuba!
	What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
	That he should weep for her? What would he do,
	Had he the motive and the cue for passion
	That I have? He would drown the stage with tears
	And cleave the general ear with horrid speech,
	Make mad the guilty and appal the free,
	Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed
	The very faculties of eyes and ears. Yet I,
	A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak,
	Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause,
	And can say nothing; no, not for a king,
	Upon whose property and most dear life
	A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward?
	Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?
	Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?
	Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the throat,
	As deep as to the lungs? who does me this?
	Ha!
	'Swounds, I should take it: for it cannot be
	But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall
	To make oppression bitter, or ere this
	I should have fatted all the region kites
	With this slave's offal: bloody, bawdy villain!
	Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!
	O, vengeance!
	Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave,
	That I, the son of a dear father murder'd,
	Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,
	Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words,
	And fall a-cursing, like a very drab,
	A scullion!
	Fie upon't! foh! About, my brain! I have heard
	That guilty creatures sitting at a play
	Have by the very cunning of the scene
	Been struck so to the soul that presently
	They have proclaim'd their malefactions;
	For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
	With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players
	Play something like the murder of my father
	Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks;
	I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench,
	I know my course. The spirit that I have seen
	May be the devil: and the devil hath power
	To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps
	Out of my weakness and my melancholy,
	As he is very potent with such spirits,
	Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds
	More relative than this: the play 's the thing
	Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.

	[Exit]




	HAMLET


ACT III



SCENE I	A room in the castle.


	[Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, POLONIUS,
	OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN]

KING CLAUDIUS	And can you, by no drift of circumstance,
	Get from him why he puts on this confusion,
	Grating so harshly all his days of quiet
	With turbulent and dangerous lunacy?

ROSENCRANTZ	He does confess he feels himself distracted;
	But from what cause he will by no means speak.

GUILDENSTERN	Nor do we find him forward to be sounded,
	But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof,
	When we would bring him on to some confession
	Of his true state.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	                  Did he receive you well?

ROSENCRANTZ	Most like a gentleman.

GUILDENSTERN	But with much forcing of his disposition.

ROSENCRANTZ	Niggard of question; but, of our demands,
	Most free in his reply.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Did you assay him?
	To any pastime?

ROSENCRANTZ	Madam, it so fell out, that certain players
	We o'er-raught on the way: of these we told him;
	And there did seem in him a kind of joy
	To hear of it: they are about the court,
	And, as I think, they have already order
	This night to play before him.

LORD POLONIUS	'Tis most true:
	And he beseech'd me to entreat your majesties
	To hear and see the matter.

KING CLAUDIUS	With all my heart; and it doth much content me
	To hear him so inclined.
	Good gentlemen, give him a further edge,
	And drive his purpose on to these delights.

ROSENCRANTZ	We shall, my lord.

	[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

KING CLAUDIUS	                  Sweet Gertrude, leave us too;
	For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither,
	That he, as 'twere by accident, may here
	Affront Ophelia:
	Her father and myself, lawful espials,
	Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing, unseen,
	We may of their encounter frankly judge,
	And gather by him, as he is behaved,
	If 't be the affliction of his love or no
	That thus he suffers for.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	I shall obey you.
	And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish
	That your good beauties be the happy cause
	Of Hamlet's wildness: so shall I hope your virtues
	Will bring him to his wonted way again,
	To both your honours.

OPHELIA	Madam, I wish it may.

	[Exit QUEEN GERTRUDE]

LORD POLONIUS	Ophelia, walk you here. Gracious, so please you,
	We will bestow ourselves.

	[To OPHELIA]

		    Read on this book;
	That show of such an exercise may colour
	Your loneliness. We are oft to blame in this,--
	'Tis too much proved--that with devotion's visage
	And pious action we do sugar o'er
	The devil himself.

KING CLAUDIUS	[Aside]          O, 'tis too true!
	How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience!
	The harlot's cheek, beautied with plastering art,
	Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it
	Than is my deed to my most painted word:
	O heavy burthen!

LORD POLONIUS	I hear him coming: let's withdraw, my lord.

	[Exeunt KING CLAUDIUS and POLONIUS]

	[Enter HAMLET]

HAMLET	To be, or not to be: that is the question:
	Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
	The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
	Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
	And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
	No more; and by a sleep to say we end
	The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
	That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
	Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
	To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
	For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
	When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
	Must give us pause: there's the respect
	That makes calamity of so long life;
	For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
	The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
	The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
	The insolence of office and the spurns
	That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
	When he himself might his quietus make
	With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
	To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
	But that the dread of something after death,
	The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
	No traveller returns, puzzles the will
	And makes us rather bear those ills we have
	Than fly to others that we know not of?
	Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
	And thus the native hue of resolution
	Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
	And enterprises of great pith and moment
	With this regard their currents turn awry,
	And lose the name of action.--Soft you now!
	The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
	Be all my sins remember'd.

OPHELIA	Good my lord,
	How does your honour for this many a day?

HAMLET	I humbly thank you; well, well, well.

OPHELIA	My lord, I have remembrances of yours,
	That I have longed long to re-deliver;
	I pray you, now receive them.

HAMLET	No, not I;
	I never gave you aught.

OPHELIA	My honour'd lord, you know right well you did;
	And, with them, words of so sweet breath composed
	As made the things more rich: their perfume lost,
	Take these again; for to the noble mind
	Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
	There, my lord.

HAMLET	Ha, ha! are you honest?

OPHELIA	My lord?

HAMLET	Are you fair?

OPHELIA	What means your lordship?

HAMLET	That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should
	admit no discourse to your beauty.

OPHELIA	Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than
	with honesty?

HAMLET	Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner
	transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the
	force of honesty can translate beauty into his
	likeness: this was sometime a paradox, but now the
	time gives it proof. I did love you once.

OPHELIA	Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.

HAMLET	You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot
	so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of
	it: I loved you not.

OPHELIA	I was the more deceived.

HAMLET	Get thee to a nunnery: why wouldst thou be a
	breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest;
	but yet I could accuse me of such things that it
	were better my mother had not borne me: I am very
	proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at
	my beck than I have thoughts to put them in,
	imagination to give them shape, or time to act them
	in. What should such fellows as I do crawling
	between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves,
	all; believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery.
	Where's your father?

OPHELIA	At home, my lord.

HAMLET	Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the
	fool no where but in's own house. Farewell.

OPHELIA	O, help him, you sweet heavens!

HAMLET	If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for
	thy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as
	snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a
	nunnery, go: farewell. Or, if thou wilt needs
	marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough
	what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go,
	and quickly too. Farewell.

OPHELIA	O heavenly powers, restore him!

HAMLET	I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God
	has given you one face, and you make yourselves
	another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and
	nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness
	your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't; it hath
	made me mad. I say, we will have no more marriages:
	those that are married already, all but one, shall
	live; the rest shall keep as they are. To a
	nunnery, go.

	[Exit]

OPHELIA	O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
	The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword;
	The expectancy and rose of the fair state,
	The glass of fashion and the mould of form,
	The observed of all observers, quite, quite down!
	And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,
	That suck'd the honey of his music vows,
	Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
	Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;
	That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth
	Blasted with ecstasy: O, woe is me,
	To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!

	[Re-enter KING CLAUDIUS and POLONIUS]

KING CLAUDIUS	Love! his affections do not that way tend;
	Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little,
	Was not like madness. There's something in his soul,
	O'er which his melancholy sits on brood;
	And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose
	Will be some danger: which for to prevent,
	I have in quick determination
	Thus set it down: he shall with speed to England,
	For the demand of our neglected tribute
	Haply the seas and countries different
	With variable objects shall expel
	This something-settled matter in his heart,
	Whereon his brains still beating puts him thus
	From fashion of himself. What think you on't?

LORD POLONIUS	It shall do well: but yet do I believe
	The origin and commencement of his grief
	Sprung from neglected love. How now, Ophelia!
	You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said;
	We heard it all. My lord, do as you please;
	But, if you hold it fit, after the play
	Let his queen mother all alone entreat him
	To show his grief: let her be round with him;
	And I'll be placed, so please you, in the ear
	Of all their conference. If she find him not,
	To England send him, or confine him where
	Your wisdom best shall think.

KING CLAUDIUS	It shall be so:
	Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go.

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


ACT III



SCENE II	A hall in the castle.


	[Enter HAMLET and Players]

HAMLET	Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to
	you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it,
	as many of your players do, I had as lief the
	town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air
	too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently;
	for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say,
	the whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget
	a temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it
	offends me to the soul to hear a robustious
	periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to
	very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who
	for the most part are capable of nothing but
	inexplicable dumbshows and noise: I would have such
	a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it
	out-herods Herod: pray you, avoid it.

First Player	I warrant your honour.

HAMLET	Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion
	be your tutor: suit the action to the word, the
	word to the action; with this special o'erstep not
	the modesty of nature: for any thing so overdone is
	from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the
	first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the
	mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature,
	scorn her own image, and the very age and body of
	the time his form and pressure. Now this overdone,
	or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful
	laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the
	censure of the which one must in your allowance
	o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be
	players that I have seen play, and heard others
	praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely,
	that, neither having the accent of Christians nor
	the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so
	strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of
	nature's journeymen had made men and not made them
	well, they imitated humanity so abominably.

First Player	I hope we have reformed that indifferently with us,
	sir.

HAMLET	O, reform it altogether. And let those that play
	your clowns speak no more than is set down for them;
	for there be of them that will themselves laugh, to
	set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh
	too; though, in the mean time, some necessary
	question of the play be then to be considered:
	that's villanous, and shows a most pitiful ambition
	in the fool that uses it. Go, make you ready.

	[Exeunt Players]

	[Enter POLONIUS, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN]

	How now, my lord! I will the king hear this piece of work?

LORD POLONIUS	And the queen too, and that presently.

HAMLET	Bid the players make haste.

	[Exit POLONIUS]

	Will you two help to hasten them?


ROSENCRANTZ	|
	|  We will, my lord.
GUILDENSTERN	|


	[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

HAMLET	What ho! Horatio!

	[Enter HORATIO]

HORATIO	Here, sweet lord, at your service.

HAMLET	Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man
	As e'er my conversation coped withal.

HORATIO	O, my dear lord,--

HAMLET	                  Nay, do not think I flatter;
	For what advancement may I hope from thee
	That no revenue hast but thy good spirits,
	To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd?
	No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,
	And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee
	Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?
	Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice
	And could of men distinguish, her election
	Hath seal'd thee for herself; for thou hast been
	As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing,
	A man that fortune's buffets and rewards
	Hast ta'en with equal thanks: and blest are those
	Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled,
	That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger
	To sound what stop she please. Give me that man
	That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
	In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,
	As I do thee.--Something too much of this.--
	There is a play to-night before the king;
	One scene of it comes near the circumstance
	Which I have told thee of my father's death:
	I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot,
	Even with the very comment of thy soul
	Observe mine uncle: if his occulted guilt
	Do not itself unkennel in one speech,
	It is a damned ghost that we have seen,
	And my imaginations are as foul
	As Vulcan's stithy. Give him heedful note;
	For I mine eyes will rivet to his face,
	And after we will both our judgments join
	In censure of his seeming.

HORATIO	Well, my lord:
	If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing,
	And 'scape detecting, I will pay the theft.

HAMLET	They are coming to the play; I must be idle:
	Get you a place.

	[Danish march. A flourish. Enter KING CLAUDIUS,
	QUEEN GERTRUDE, POLONIUS, OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ,
	GUILDENSTERN, and others]

KING CLAUDIUS	How fares our cousin Hamlet?

HAMLET	Excellent, i' faith; of the chameleon's dish: I eat
	the air, promise-crammed: you cannot feed capons so.

KING CLAUDIUS	I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet; these words
	are not mine.

HAMLET	No, nor mine now.

	[To POLONIUS]

	My lord, you played once i' the university, you say?

LORD POLONIUS	That did I, my lord; and was accounted a good actor.

HAMLET	What did you enact?

LORD POLONIUS	I did enact Julius Caesar: I was killed i' the
	Capitol; Brutus killed me.

HAMLET	It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf
	there. Be the players ready?

ROSENCRANTZ	Ay, my lord; they stay upon your patience.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me.

HAMLET	No, good mother, here's metal more attractive.

LORD POLONIUS	[To KING CLAUDIUS]  O, ho! do you mark that?

HAMLET	Lady, shall I lie in your lap?

	[Lying down at OPHELIA's feet]

OPHELIA	No, my lord.

HAMLET	I mean, my head upon your lap?

OPHELIA	Ay, my lord.

HAMLET	Do you think I meant country matters?

OPHELIA	I think nothing, my lord.

HAMLET	That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs.

OPHELIA	What is, my lord?

HAMLET	Nothing.

OPHELIA	You are merry, my lord.

HAMLET	Who, I?

OPHELIA	Ay, my lord.

HAMLET	O God, your only jig-maker. What should a man do
	but be merry? for, look you, how cheerfully my
	mother looks, and my father died within these two hours.

OPHELIA	Nay, 'tis twice two months, my lord.

HAMLET	So long? Nay then, let the devil wear black, for
	I'll have a suit of sables. O heavens! die two
	months ago, and not forgotten yet? Then there's
	hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half
	a year: but, by'r lady, he must build churches,
	then; or else shall he suffer not thinking on, with
	the hobby-horse, whose epitaph is 'For, O, for, O,
	the hobby-horse is forgot.'

	[Hautboys play. The dumb-show enters]

	[Enter a King and a Queen very lovingly; the Queen
	embracing him, and he her. She kneels, and makes
	show of protestation unto him. He takes her up,
	and declines his head upon her neck: lays him down
	upon a bank of flowers: she, seeing him asleep,
	leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his
	crown, kisses it, and pours poison in the King's
	ears, and exit. The Queen returns; finds the King
	dead, and makes passionate action. The Poisoner,
	with some two or three Mutes, comes in again,
	seeming to lament with her. The dead body is
	carried away. The Poisoner wooes the Queen with
	gifts: she seems loath and unwilling awhile, but
	in the end accepts his love]

	[Exeunt]

OPHELIA	What means this, my lord?

HAMLET	Marry, this is miching mallecho; it means mischief.

OPHELIA	Belike this show imports the argument of the play.

	[Enter Prologue]

HAMLET	We shall know by this fellow: the players cannot
	keep counsel; they'll tell all.

OPHELIA	Will he tell us what this show meant?

HAMLET	Ay, or any show that you'll show him: be not you
	ashamed to show, he'll not shame to tell you what it means.

OPHELIA	You are naught, you are naught: I'll mark the play.

Prologue	     For us, and for our tragedy,
	Here stooping to your clemency,
	We beg your hearing patiently.

	[Exit]

HAMLET	Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?

OPHELIA	'Tis brief, my lord.

HAMLET	As woman's love.

	[Enter two Players, King and Queen]

Player King	   Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart gone round
	Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground,
	And thirty dozen moons with borrow'd sheen
	About the world have times twelve thirties been,
	Since love our hearts and Hymen did our hands
	Unite commutual in most sacred bands.

Player Queen	   So many journeys may the sun and moon
	Make us again count o'er ere love be done!
	But, woe is me, you are so sick of late,
	So far from cheer and from your former state,
	That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust,
	Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must:
	For women's fear and love holds quantity;
	In neither aught, or in extremity.
	Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know;
	And as my love is sized, my fear is so:
	Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear;
	Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.

Player King	'Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too;
	My operant powers their functions leave to do:
	And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,
	Honour'd, beloved; and haply one as kind
	For husband shalt thou--

Player Queen	O, confound the rest!
	Such love must needs be treason in my breast:
	In second husband let me be accurst!
	None wed the second but who kill'd the first.

HAMLET	[Aside]  Wormwood, wormwood.

Player Queen	   The instances that second marriage move
	Are base respects of thrift, but none of love:
	A second time I kill my husband dead,
	When second husband kisses me in bed.

Player King	   I do believe you think what now you speak;
	But what we do determine oft we break.
	Purpose is but the slave to memory,
	Of violent birth, but poor validity;
	Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree;
	But fall, unshaken, when they mellow be.
	Most necessary 'tis that we forget
	To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt:
	What to ourselves in passion we propose,
	The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
	The violence of either grief or joy
	Their own enactures with themselves destroy:
	Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament;
	Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.
	This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange
	That even our loves should with our fortunes change;
	For 'tis a question left us yet to prove,
	Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.
	The great man down, you mark his favourite flies;
	The poor advanced makes friends of enemies.
	And hitherto doth love on fortune tend;
	For who not needs shall never lack a friend,
	And who in want a hollow friend doth try,
	Directly seasons him his enemy.
	But, orderly to end where I begun,
	Our wills and fates do so contrary run
	That our devices still are overthrown;
	Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own:
	So think thou wilt no second husband wed;
	But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.

Player Queen	   Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light!
	Sport and repose lock from me day and night!
	To desperation turn my trust and hope!
	An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope!
	Each opposite that blanks the face of joy
	Meet what I would have well and it destroy!
	Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife,
	If, once a widow, ever I be wife!

HAMLET	If she should break it now!

Player King	'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile;
	My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile
	The tedious day with sleep.

	[Sleeps]

Player Queen	Sleep rock thy brain,
	And never come mischance between us twain!

	[Exit]

HAMLET	Madam, how like you this play?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	The lady protests too much, methinks.

HAMLET	O, but she'll keep her word.

KING CLAUDIUS	Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in 't?

HAMLET	No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest; no offence
	i' the world.

KING CLAUDIUS	What do you call the play?

HAMLET	The Mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically. This play
	is the image of a murder done in Vienna: Gonzago is
	the duke's name; his wife, Baptista: you shall see
	anon; 'tis a knavish piece of work: but what o'
	that? your majesty and we that have free souls, it
	touches us not: let the galled jade wince, our
	withers are unwrung.

	[Enter LUCIANUS]

	This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king.

OPHELIA	You are as good as a chorus, my lord.

HAMLET	I could interpret between you and your love, if I
	could see the puppets dallying.

OPHELIA	You are keen, my lord, you are keen.

HAMLET	It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge.

OPHELIA	Still better, and worse.

HAMLET	So you must take your husbands. Begin, murderer;
	pox, leave thy damnable faces, and begin. Come:
	'the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.'

LUCIANUS	   Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing;
	Confederate season, else no creature seeing;
	Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected,
	With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,
	Thy natural magic and dire property,
	On wholesome life usurp immediately.

	[Pours the poison into the sleeper's ears]

HAMLET	He poisons him i' the garden for's estate. His
	name's Gonzago: the story is extant, and writ in
	choice Italian: you shall see anon how the murderer
	gets the love of Gonzago's wife.

OPHELIA	The king rises.

HAMLET	What, frighted with false fire!

QUEEN GERTRUDE	How fares my lord?

LORD POLONIUS	Give o'er the play.

KING CLAUDIUS	Give me some light: away!

All	Lights, lights, lights!

	[Exeunt all but HAMLET and HORATIO]

HAMLET	     Why, let the stricken deer go weep,
	The hart ungalled play;
	For some must watch, while some must sleep:
	So runs the world away.
	Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers-- if
	the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me--with two
	Provincial roses on my razed shoes, get me a
	fellowship in a cry of players, sir?

HORATIO	Half a share.

HAMLET	A whole one, I.
	For thou dost know, O Damon dear,
	This realm dismantled was
	Of Jove himself; and now reigns here
	A very, very--pajock.

HORATIO	You might have rhymed.

HAMLET	O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a
	thousand pound. Didst perceive?

HORATIO	Very well, my lord.

HAMLET	Upon the talk of the poisoning?

HORATIO	I did very well note him.

HAMLET	Ah, ha! Come, some music! come, the recorders!
	For if the king like not the comedy,
	Why then, belike, he likes it not, perdy.
	Come, some music!

	[Re-enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

GUILDENSTERN	Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you.

HAMLET	Sir, a whole history.

GUILDENSTERN	The king, sir,--

HAMLET	Ay, sir, what of him?

GUILDENSTERN	Is in his retirement marvellous distempered.

HAMLET	With drink, sir?

GUILDENSTERN	No, my lord, rather with choler.

HAMLET	Your wisdom should show itself more richer to
	signify this to his doctor; for, for me to put him
	to his purgation would perhaps plunge him into far
	more choler.

GUILDENSTERN	Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame and
	start not so wildly from my affair.

HAMLET	I am tame, sir: pronounce.

GUILDENSTERN	The queen, your mother, in most great affliction of
	spirit, hath sent me to you.

HAMLET	You are welcome.

GUILDENSTERN	Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right
	breed. If it shall please you to make me a
	wholesome answer, I will do your mother's
	commandment: if not, your pardon and my return
	shall be the end of my business.

HAMLET	Sir, I cannot.

GUILDENSTERN	What, my lord?

HAMLET	Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's diseased: but,
	sir, such answer as I can make, you shall command;
	or, rather, as you say, my mother: therefore no
	more, but to the matter: my mother, you say,--

ROSENCRANTZ	Then thus she says; your behavior hath struck her
	into amazement and admiration.

HAMLET	O wonderful son, that can so astonish a mother! But
	is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's
	admiration? Impart.

ROSENCRANTZ	She desires to speak with you in her closet, ere you
	go to bed.

HAMLET	We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have
	you any further trade with us?

ROSENCRANTZ	My lord, you once did love me.

HAMLET	So I do still, by these pickers and stealers.

ROSENCRANTZ	Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? you
	do, surely, bar the door upon your own liberty, if
	you deny your griefs to your friend.

HAMLET	Sir, I lack advancement.

ROSENCRANTZ	How can that be, when you have the voice of the king
	himself for your succession in Denmark?

HAMLET	Ay, but sir, 'While the grass grows,'--the proverb
	is something musty.

	[Re-enter Players with recorders]

	O, the recorders! let me see one. To withdraw with
	you:--why do you go about to recover the wind of me,
	as if you would drive me into a toil?

GUILDENSTERN	O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too
	unmannerly.

HAMLET	I do not well understand that. Will you play upon
	this pipe?

GUILDENSTERN	My lord, I cannot.

HAMLET	I pray you.

GUILDENSTERN	Believe me, I cannot.

HAMLET	I do beseech you.

GUILDENSTERN	I know no touch of it, my lord.

HAMLET	'Tis as easy as lying: govern these ventages with
	your lingers and thumb, give it breath with your
	mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music.
	Look you, these are the stops.

GUILDENSTERN	But these cannot I command to any utterance of
	harmony; I have not the skill.

HAMLET	Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of
	me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know
	my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my
	mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to
	the top of my compass: and there is much music,
	excellent voice, in this little organ; yet cannot
	you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am
	easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what
	instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you
	cannot play upon me.

	[Enter POLONIUS]

	God bless you, sir!

LORD POLONIUS	My lord, the queen would speak with you, and
	presently.

HAMLET	Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel?

LORD POLONIUS	By the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed.

HAMLET	Methinks it is like a weasel.

LORD POLONIUS	It is backed like a weasel.

HAMLET	Or like a whale?

LORD POLONIUS	Very like a whale.

HAMLET	Then I will come to my mother by and by. They fool
	me to the top of my bent. I will come by and by.

LORD POLONIUS	I will say so.

HAMLET	By and by is easily said.

	[Exit POLONIUS]

	Leave me, friends.

	[Exeunt all but HAMLET]

	Tis now the very witching time of night,
	When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
	Contagion to this world: now could I drink hot blood,
	And do such bitter business as the day
	Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother.
	O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever
	The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom:
	Let me be cruel, not unnatural:
	I will speak daggers to her, but use none;
	My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites;
	How in my words soever she be shent,
	To give them seals never, my soul, consent!

	[Exit]



	HAMLET


ACT III



SCENE III	A room in the castle.


	[Enter KING CLAUDIUS, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN]

KING CLAUDIUS	I like him not, nor stands it safe with us
	To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you;
	I your commission will forthwith dispatch,
	And he to England shall along with you:
	The terms of our estate may not endure
	Hazard so dangerous as doth hourly grow
	Out of his lunacies.

GUILDENSTERN	We will ourselves provide:
	Most holy and religious fear it is
	To keep those many many bodies safe
	That live and feed upon your majesty.

ROSENCRANTZ	The single and peculiar life is bound,
	With all the strength and armour of the mind,
	To keep itself from noyance; but much more
	That spirit upon whose weal depend and rest
	The lives of many. The cease of majesty
	Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw
	What's near it with it: it is a massy wheel,
	Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount,
	To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things
	Are mortised and adjoin'd; which, when it falls,
	Each small annexment, petty consequence,
	Attends the boisterous ruin. Never alone
	Did the king sigh, but with a general groan.

KING CLAUDIUS	Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage;
	For we will fetters put upon this fear,
	Which now goes too free-footed.


ROSENCRANTZ	|
	|	We will haste us.
GUILDENSTERN	|


	[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

	[Enter POLONIUS]

LORD POLONIUS	My lord, he's going to his mother's closet:
	Behind the arras I'll convey myself,
	To hear the process; and warrant she'll tax him home:
	And, as you said, and wisely was it said,
	'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother,
	Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear
	The speech, of vantage. Fare you well, my liege:
	I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,
	And tell you what I know.

KING CLAUDIUS	Thanks, dear my lord.

	[Exit POLONIUS]

	O, my offence is rank it smells to heaven;
	It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,
	A brother's murder. Pray can I not,
	Though inclination be as sharp as will:
	My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;
	And, like a man to double business bound,
	I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
	And both neglect. What if this cursed hand
	Were thicker than itself with brother's blood,
	Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
	To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy
	But to confront the visage of offence?
	And what's in prayer but this two-fold force,
	To be forestalled ere we come to fall,
	Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up;
	My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer
	Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murder'?
	That cannot be; since I am still possess'd
	Of those effects for which I did the murder,
	My crown, mine own ambition and my queen.
	May one be pardon'd and retain the offence?
	In the corrupted currents of this world
	Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice,
	And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself
	Buys out the law: but 'tis not so above;
	There is no shuffling, there the action lies
	In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd,
	Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
	To give in evidence. What then? what rests?
	Try what repentance can: what can it not?
	Yet what can it when one can not repent?
	O wretched state! O bosom black as death!
	O limed soul, that, struggling to be free,
	Art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay!
	Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart with strings of steel,
	Be soft as sinews of the newborn babe!
	All may be well.

	[Retires and kneels]

	[Enter HAMLET]

HAMLET	Now might I do it pat, now he is praying;
	And now I'll do't. And so he goes to heaven;
	And so am I revenged. That would be scann'd:
	A villain kills my father; and for that,
	I, his sole son, do this same villain send
	To heaven.
	O, this is hire and salary, not revenge.
	He took my father grossly, full of bread;
	With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
	And how his audit stands who knows save heaven?
	But in our circumstance and course of thought,
	'Tis heavy with him: and am I then revenged,
	To take him in the purging of his soul,
	When he is fit and season'd for his passage?
	No!
	Up, sword; and know thou a more horrid hent:
	When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage,
	Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed;
	At gaming, swearing, or about some act
	That has no relish of salvation in't;
	Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven,
	And that his soul may be as damn'd and black
	As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays:
	This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.

	[Exit]

KING CLAUDIUS	[Rising]  My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:
	Words without thoughts never to heaven go.

	[Exit]




	HAMLET


ACT III



SCENE IV	The Queen's closet.


	[Enter QUEEN MARGARET and POLONIUS]

LORD POLONIUS	He will come straight. Look you lay home to him:
	Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with,
	And that your grace hath screen'd and stood between
	Much heat and him. I'll sconce me even here.
	Pray you, be round with him.

HAMLET	[Within]  Mother, mother, mother!

QUEEN GERTRUDE	I'll warrant you,
	Fear me not: withdraw, I hear him coming.

	[POLONIUS hides behind the arras]

	[Enter HAMLET]

HAMLET	Now, mother, what's the matter?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.

HAMLET	Mother, you have my father much offended.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.

HAMLET	Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Why, how now, Hamlet!

HAMLET	What's the matter now?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Have you forgot me?

HAMLET	No, by the rood, not so:
	You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife;
	And--would it were not so!--you are my mother.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Nay, then, I'll set those to you that can speak.

HAMLET	Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge;
	You go not till I set you up a glass
	Where you may see the inmost part of you.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murder me?
	Help, help, ho!

LORD POLONIUS	[Behind]  What, ho! help, help, help!

HAMLET	[Drawing]  How now! a rat? Dead, for a ducat, dead!

	[Makes a pass through the arras]

LORD POLONIUS	[Behind]  O, I am slain!

	[Falls and dies]

QUEEN GERTRUDE	O me, what hast thou done?

HAMLET	Nay, I know not:
	Is it the king?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	O, what a rash and bloody deed is this!

HAMLET	A bloody deed! almost as bad, good mother,
	As kill a king, and marry with his brother.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	As kill a king!

HAMLET	                  Ay, lady, 'twas my word.

	[Lifts up the array and discovers POLONIUS]

	Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!
	I took thee for thy better: take thy fortune;
	Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger.
	Leave wringing of your hands: peace! sit you down,
	And let me wring your heart; for so I shall,
	If it be made of penetrable stuff,
	If damned custom have not brass'd it so
	That it is proof and bulwark against sense.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	What have I done, that thou darest wag thy tongue
	In noise so rude against me?

HAMLET	Such an act
	That blurs the grace and blush of modesty,
	Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose
	From the fair forehead of an innocent love
	And sets a blister there, makes marriage-vows
	As false as dicers' oaths: O, such a deed
	As from the body of contraction plucks
	The very soul, and sweet religion makes
	A rhapsody of words: heaven's face doth glow:
	Yea, this solidity and compound mass,
	With tristful visage, as against the doom,
	Is thought-sick at the act.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Ay me, what act,
	That roars so loud, and thunders in the index?

HAMLET	Look here, upon this picture, and on this,
	The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
	See, what a grace was seated on this brow;
	Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself;
	An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
	A station like the herald Mercury
	New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill;
	A combination and a form indeed,
	Where every god did seem to set his seal,
	To give the world assurance of a man:
	This was your husband. Look you now, what follows:
	Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear,
	Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?
	Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,
	And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes?
	You cannot call it love; for at your age
	The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble,
	And waits upon the judgment: and what judgment
	Would step from this to this? Sense, sure, you have,
	Else could you not have motion; but sure, that sense
	Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err,
	Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thrall'd
	But it reserved some quantity of choice,
	To serve in such a difference. What devil was't
	That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind?
	Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight,
	Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,
	Or but a sickly part of one true sense
	Could not so mope.
	O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell,
	If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,
	To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,
	And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame
	When the compulsive ardour gives the charge,
	Since frost itself as actively doth burn
	And reason panders will.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	O Hamlet, speak no more:
	Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul;
	And there I see such black and grained spots
	As will not leave their tinct.

HAMLET	Nay, but to live
	In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed,
	Stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love
	Over the nasty sty,--

QUEEN GERTRUDE	O, speak to me no more;
	These words, like daggers, enter in mine ears;
	No more, sweet Hamlet!

HAMLET	A murderer and a villain;
	A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe
	Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings;
	A cutpurse of the empire and the rule,
	That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,
	And put it in his pocket!

QUEEN GERTRUDE	No more!

HAMLET	A king of shreds and patches,--

	[Enter Ghost]

	Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings,
	You heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Alas, he's mad!

HAMLET	Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
	That, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by
	The important acting of your dread command? O, say!

Ghost	Do not forget: this visitation
	Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
	But, look, amazement on thy mother sits:
	O, step between her and her fighting soul:
	Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works:
	Speak to her, Hamlet.

HAMLET	How is it with you, lady?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Alas, how is't with you,
	That you do bend your eye on vacancy
	And with the incorporal air do hold discourse?
	Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;
	And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm,
	Your bedded hair, like life in excrements,
	Starts up, and stands on end. O gentle son,
	Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
	Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?

HAMLET	On him, on him! Look you, how pale he glares!
	His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones,
	Would make them capable. Do not look upon me;
	Lest with this piteous action you convert
	My stern effects: then what I have to do
	Will want true colour; tears perchance for blood.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	To whom do you speak this?

HAMLET	Do you see nothing there?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Nothing at all; yet all that is I see.

HAMLET	Nor did you nothing hear?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	No, nothing but ourselves.

HAMLET	Why, look you there! look, how it steals away!
	My father, in his habit as he lived!
	Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal!

	[Exit Ghost]

QUEEN GERTRUDE	This the very coinage of your brain:
	This bodiless creation ecstasy
	Is very cunning in.

HAMLET	Ecstasy!
	My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,
	And makes as healthful music: it is not madness
	That I have utter'd: bring me to the test,
	And I the matter will re-word; which madness
	Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace,
	Lay not that mattering unction to your soul,
	That not your trespass, but my madness speaks:
	It will but skin and film the ulcerous place,
	Whilst rank corruption, mining all within,
	Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven;
	Repent what's past; avoid what is to come;
	And do not spread the compost on the weeds,
	To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue;
	For in the fatness of these pursy times
	Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg,
	Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain.

HAMLET	O, throw away the worser part of it,
	And live the purer with the other half.
	Good night: but go not to mine uncle's bed;
	Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
	That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat,
	Of habits devil, is angel yet in this,
	That to the use of actions fair and good
	He likewise gives a frock or livery,
	That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night,
	And that shall lend a kind of easiness
	To the next abstinence: the next more easy;
	For use almost can change the stamp of nature,
	And either [         ] the devil, or throw him out
	With wondrous potency. Once more, good night:
	And when you are desirous to be bless'd,
	I'll blessing beg of you. For this same lord,

	[Pointing to POLONIUS]

	I do repent: but heaven hath pleased it so,
	To punish me with this and this with me,
	That I must be their scourge and minister.
	I will bestow him, and will answer well
	The death I gave him. So, again, good night.
	I must be cruel, only to be kind:
	Thus bad begins and worse remains behind.
	One word more, good lady.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	What shall I do?

HAMLET	Not this, by no means, that I bid you do:
	Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed;
	Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse;
	And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses,
	Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers,
	Make you to ravel all this matter out,
	That I essentially am not in madness,
	But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know;
	For who, that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise,
	Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib,
	Such dear concernings hide? who would do so?
	No, in despite of sense and secrecy,
	Unpeg the basket on the house's top.
	Let the birds fly, and, like the famous ape,
	To try conclusions, in the basket creep,
	And break your own neck down.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Be thou assured, if words be made of breath,
	And breath of life, I have no life to breathe
	What thou hast said to me.

HAMLET	I must to England; you know that?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Alack,
	I had forgot: 'tis so concluded on.

HAMLET	There's letters seal'd: and my two schoolfellows,
	Whom I will trust as I will adders fang'd,
	They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way,
	And marshal me to knavery. Let it work;
	For 'tis the sport to have the engineer
	Hoist with his own petard: and 't shall go hard
	But I will delve one yard below their mines,
	And blow them at the moon: O, 'tis most sweet,
	When in one line two crafts directly meet.
	This man shall set me packing:
	I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room.
	Mother, good night. Indeed this counsellor
	Is now most still, most secret and most grave,
	Who was in life a foolish prating knave.
	Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you.
	Good night, mother.

	[Exeunt severally; HAMLET dragging in POLONIUS]




	HAMLET


ACT IV



SCENE I	A room in the castle.


	[Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, ROSENCRANTZ,
	and GUILDENSTERN]

KING CLAUDIUS	There's matter in these sighs, these profound heaves:
	You must translate: 'tis fit we understand them.
	Where is your son?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Bestow this place on us a little while.

	[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

	Ah, my good lord, what have I seen to-night!

KING CLAUDIUS	What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Mad as the sea and wind, when both contend
	Which is the mightier: in his lawless fit,
	Behind the arras hearing something stir,
	Whips out his rapier, cries, 'A rat, a rat!'
	And, in this brainish apprehension, kills
	The unseen good old man.

KING CLAUDIUS	O heavy deed!
	It had been so with us, had we been there:
	His liberty is full of threats to all;
	To you yourself, to us, to every one.
	Alas, how shall this bloody deed be answer'd?
	It will be laid to us, whose providence
	Should have kept short, restrain'd and out of haunt,
	This mad young man: but so much was our love,
	We would not understand what was most fit;
	But, like the owner of a foul disease,
	To keep it from divulging, let it feed
	Even on the pith of Life. Where is he gone?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	To draw apart the body he hath kill'd:
	O'er whom his very madness, like some ore
	Among a mineral of metals base,
	Shows itself pure; he weeps for what is done.

KING CLAUDIUS	O Gertrude, come away!
	The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch,
	But we will ship him hence: and this vile deed
	We must, with all our majesty and skill,
	Both countenance and excuse. Ho, Guildenstern!

	[Re-enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

	Friends both, go join you with some further aid:
	Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain,
	And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him:
	Go seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body
	Into the chapel. I pray you, haste in this.

	[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

	Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends;
	And let them know, both what we mean to do,
	And what's untimely done [                ]
	Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter,
	As level as the cannon to his blank,
	Transports his poison'd shot, may miss our name,
	And hit the woundless air. O, come away!
	My soul is full of discord and dismay.

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


ACT IV



SCENE II	Another room in the castle.


	[Enter HAMLET]

HAMLET	Safely stowed.


ROSENCRANTZ:	|
	|   [Within]  Hamlet! Lord Hamlet!
GUILDENSTERN:	|


HAMLET	What noise? who calls on Hamlet?
	O, here they come.

	[Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

ROSENCRANTZ	What have you done, my lord, with the dead body?

HAMLET	Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin.

ROSENCRANTZ	Tell us where 'tis, that we may take it thence
	And bear it to the chapel.

HAMLET	Do not believe it.

ROSENCRANTZ	Believe what?

HAMLET	That I can keep your counsel and not mine own.
	Besides, to be demanded of a sponge! what
	replication should be made by the son of a king?

ROSENCRANTZ	Take you me for a sponge, my lord?

HAMLET	Ay, sir, that soaks up the king's countenance, his
	rewards, his authorities. But such officers do the
	king best service in the end: he keeps them, like
	an ape, in the corner of his jaw; first mouthed, to
	be last swallowed: when he needs what you have
	gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, sponge, you
	shall be dry again.

ROSENCRANTZ	I understand you not, my lord.

HAMLET	I am glad of it: a knavish speech sleeps in a
	foolish ear.

ROSENCRANTZ	My lord, you must tell us where the body is, and go
	with us to the king.

HAMLET	The body is with the king, but the king is not with
	the body. The king is a thing--

GUILDENSTERN	A thing, my lord!

HAMLET	Of nothing: bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after.

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


ACT IV



SCENE III	Another room in the castle.


	[Enter KING CLAUDIUS, attended]

KING CLAUDIUS	I have sent to seek him, and to find the body.
	How dangerous is it that this man goes loose!
	Yet must not we put the strong law on him:
	He's loved of the distracted multitude,
	Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes;
	And where tis so, the offender's scourge is weigh'd,
	But never the offence. To bear all smooth and even,
	This sudden sending him away must seem
	Deliberate pause: diseases desperate grown
	By desperate appliance are relieved,
	Or not at all.

	[Enter ROSENCRANTZ]

	How now! what hath befall'n?

ROSENCRANTZ	Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord,
	We cannot get from him.

KING CLAUDIUS	But where is he?

ROSENCRANTZ	Without, my lord; guarded, to know your pleasure.

KING CLAUDIUS	Bring him before us.

ROSENCRANTZ	Ho, Guildenstern! bring in my lord.

	[Enter HAMLET and GUILDENSTERN]

KING CLAUDIUS	Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius?

HAMLET	At supper.

KING CLAUDIUS	At supper! where?

HAMLET	Not where he eats, but where he is eaten: a certain
	convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your
	worm is your only emperor for diet: we fat all
	creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for
	maggots: your fat king and your lean beggar is but
	variable service, two dishes, but to one table:
	that's the end.

KING CLAUDIUS	Alas, alas!

HAMLET	A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a
	king, and cat of the fish that hath fed of that worm.

KING CLAUDIUS	What dost you mean by this?

HAMLET	Nothing but to show you how a king may go a
	progress through the guts of a beggar.

KING CLAUDIUS	Where is Polonius?

HAMLET	In heaven; send hither to see: if your messenger
	find him not there, seek him i' the other place
	yourself. But indeed, if you find him not within
	this month, you shall nose him as you go up the
	stairs into the lobby.

KING CLAUDIUS	Go seek him there.

	[To some Attendants]

HAMLET	He will stay till ye come.

	[Exeunt Attendants]

KING CLAUDIUS	Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety,--
	Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve
	For that which thou hast done,--must send thee hence
	With fiery quickness: therefore prepare thyself;
	The bark is ready, and the wind at help,
	The associates tend, and every thing is bent
	For England.

HAMLET	                  For England!

KING CLAUDIUS	Ay, Hamlet.

HAMLET	Good.

KING CLAUDIUS	So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes.

HAMLET	I see a cherub that sees them. But, come; for
	England! Farewell, dear mother.

KING CLAUDIUS	Thy loving father, Hamlet.

HAMLET	My mother: father and mother is man and wife; man
	and wife is one flesh; and so, my mother. Come, for England!

	[Exit]

KING CLAUDIUS	Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard;
	Delay it not; I'll have him hence to-night:
	Away! for every thing is seal'd and done
	That else leans on the affair: pray you, make haste.

	[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

	And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught--
	As my great power thereof may give thee sense,
	Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red
	After the Danish sword, and thy free awe
	Pays homage to us--thou mayst not coldly set
	Our sovereign process; which imports at full,
	By letters congruing to that effect,
	The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England;
	For like the hectic in my blood he rages,
	And thou must cure me: till I know 'tis done,
	Howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun.

	[Exit]




	HAMLET


ACT IV



SCENE IV	A plain in Denmark.


	[Enter FORTINBRAS, a Captain, and Soldiers, marching]

PRINCE FORTINBRAS	Go, captain, from me greet the Danish king;
	Tell him that, by his licence, Fortinbras
	Craves the conveyance of a promised march
	Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous.
	If that his majesty would aught with us,
	We shall express our duty in his eye;
	And let him know so.

Captain	I will do't, my lord.

PRINCE FORTINBRAS	Go softly on.

	[Exeunt FORTINBRAS and Soldiers]

	[Enter HAMLET, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and others]

HAMLET	Good sir, whose powers are these?

Captain	They are of Norway, sir.

HAMLET	How purposed, sir, I pray you?

Captain	Against some part of Poland.

HAMLET	Who commands them, sir?

Captain	The nephews to old Norway, Fortinbras.

HAMLET	Goes it against the main of Poland, sir,
	Or for some frontier?

Captain	Truly to speak, and with no addition,
	We go to gain a little patch of ground
	That hath in it no profit but the name.
	To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it;
	Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole
	A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee.

HAMLET	Why, then the Polack never will defend it.

Captain	Yes, it is already garrison'd.

HAMLET	Two thousand souls and twenty thousand ducats
	Will not debate the question of this straw:
	This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace,
	That inward breaks, and shows no cause without
	Why the man dies. I humbly thank you, sir.

Captain	God be wi' you, sir.

	[Exit]

ROSENCRANTZ	Wilt please you go, my lord?

HAMLET	I'll be with you straight go a little before.

	[Exeunt all except HAMLET]

	How all occasions do inform against me,
	And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,
	If his chief good and market of his time
	Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.
	Sure, he that made us with such large discourse,
	Looking before and after, gave us not
	That capability and god-like reason
	To fust in us unused. Now, whether it be
	Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
	Of thinking too precisely on the event,
	A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom
	And ever three parts coward, I do not know
	Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do;'
	Sith I have cause and will and strength and means
	To do't. Examples gross as earth exhort me:
	Witness this army of such mass and charge
	Led by a delicate and tender prince,
	Whose spirit with divine ambition puff'd
	Makes mouths at the invisible event,
	Exposing what is mortal and unsure
	To all that fortune, death and danger dare,
	Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great
	Is not to stir without great argument,
	But greatly to find quarrel in a straw
	When honour's at the stake. How stand I then,
	That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd,
	Excitements of my reason and my blood,
	And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see
	The imminent death of twenty thousand men,
	That, for a fantasy and trick of fame,
	Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot
	Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
	Which is not tomb enough and continent
	To hide the slain? O, from this time forth,
	My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!

	[Exit]




	HAMLET


ACT IV


SCENE V	Elsinore. A room in the castle.


	[Enter QUEEN GERTRUDE, HORATIO, and a Gentleman]

QUEEN GERTRUDE	I will not speak with her.

Gentleman	She is importunate, indeed distract:
	Her mood will needs be pitied.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	What would she have?

Gentleman	She speaks much of her father; says she hears
	There's tricks i' the world; and hems, and beats her heart;
	Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt,
	That carry but half sense: her speech is nothing,
	Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
	The hearers to collection; they aim at it,
	And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts;
	Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures
	yield them,
	Indeed would make one think there might be thought,
	Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.

HORATIO	'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew
	Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Let her come in.

	[Exit HORATIO]

	To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is,
	Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss:
	So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
	It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

	[Re-enter HORATIO, with OPHELIA]

OPHELIA	Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	How now, Ophelia!

OPHELIA	[Sings]

	How should I your true love know
	From another one?
	By his cockle hat and staff,
	And his sandal shoon.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?

OPHELIA	Say you? nay, pray you, mark.

	[Sings]

	He is dead and gone, lady,
	He is dead and gone;
	At his head a grass-green turf,
	At his heels a stone.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Nay, but, Ophelia,--

OPHELIA	Pray you, mark.

	[Sings]

	White his shroud as the mountain snow,--

	[Enter KING CLAUDIUS]

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Alas, look here, my lord.

OPHELIA	[Sings]

	Larded with sweet flowers
	Which bewept to the grave did go
	With true-love showers.

KING CLAUDIUS	How do you, pretty lady?

OPHELIA	Well, God 'ild you! They say the owl was a baker's
	daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not
	what we may be. God be at your table!

KING CLAUDIUS	Conceit upon her father.

OPHELIA	Pray you, let's have no words of this; but when they
	ask you what it means, say you this:

	[Sings]

	To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day,
	All in the morning betime,
	And I a maid at your window,
	To be your Valentine.
	Then up he rose, and donn'd his clothes,
	And dupp'd the chamber-door;
	Let in the maid, that out a maid
	Never departed more.

KING CLAUDIUS	Pretty Ophelia!

OPHELIA	Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't:

	[Sings]

	By Gis and by Saint Charity,
	Alack, and fie for shame!
	Young men will do't, if they come to't;
	By cock, they are to blame.
	Quoth she, before you tumbled me,
	You promised me to wed.
	So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
	An thou hadst not come to my bed.

KING CLAUDIUS	How long hath she been thus?

OPHELIA	I hope all will be well. We must be patient: but I
	cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay him
	i' the cold ground. My brother shall know of it:
	and so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my
	coach! Good night, ladies; good night, sweet ladies;
	good night, good night.

	[Exit]

KING CLAUDIUS	Follow her close; give her good watch,
	I pray you.

	[Exit HORATIO]

	O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs
	All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude,
	When sorrows come, they come not single spies
	But in battalions. First, her father slain:
	Next, your son gone; and he most violent author
	Of his own just remove: the people muddied,
	Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers,
	For good Polonius' death; and we have done but greenly,
	In hugger-mugger to inter him: poor Ophelia
	Divided from herself and her fair judgment,
	Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts:
	Last, and as much containing as all these,
	Her brother is in secret come from France;
	Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
	And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
	With pestilent speeches of his father's death;
	Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd,
	Will nothing stick our person to arraign
	In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
	Like to a murdering-piece, in many places
	Gives me superfluous death.

	[A noise within]

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Alack, what noise is this?

KING CLAUDIUS	Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door.

	[Enter another Gentleman]

	What is the matter?

Gentleman	Save yourself, my lord:
	The ocean, overpeering of his list,
	Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste
	Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,
	O'erbears your officers. The rabble call him lord;
	And, as the world were now but to begin,
	Antiquity forgot, custom not known,
	The ratifiers and props of every word,
	They cry 'Choose we: Laertes shall be king:'
	Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds:
	'Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!'

QUEEN GERTRUDE	How cheerfully on the false trail they cry!
	O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs!

KING CLAUDIUS	The doors are broke.

	[Noise within]

	[Enter LAERTES, armed; Danes following]

LAERTES	Where is this king? Sirs, stand you all without.

Danes	No, let's come in.

LAERTES	                  I pray you, give me leave.

Danes	We will, we will.

	[They retire without the door]

LAERTES	I thank you: keep the door. O thou vile king,
	Give me my father!

QUEEN GERTRUDE	                  Calmly, good Laertes.

LAERTES	That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard,
	Cries cuckold to my father, brands the harlot
	Even here, between the chaste unsmirched brow
	Of my true mother.

KING CLAUDIUS	                  What is the cause, Laertes,
	That thy rebellion looks so giant-like?
	Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our person:
	There's such divinity doth hedge a king,
	That treason can but peep to what it would,
	Acts little of his will. Tell me, Laertes,
	Why thou art thus incensed. Let him go, Gertrude.
	Speak, man.

LAERTES	Where is my father?

KING CLAUDIUS	Dead.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	But not by him.

KING CLAUDIUS	Let him demand his fill.

LAERTES	How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with:
	To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil!
	Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit!
	I dare damnation. To this point I stand,
	That both the worlds I give to negligence,
	Let come what comes; only I'll be revenged
	Most thoroughly for my father.

KING CLAUDIUS	Who shall stay you?

LAERTES	My will, not all the world:
	And for my means, I'll husband them so well,
	They shall go far with little.

KING CLAUDIUS	Good Laertes,
	If you desire to know the certainty
	Of your dear father's death, is't writ in your revenge,
	That, swoopstake, you will draw both friend and foe,
	Winner and loser?

LAERTES	None but his enemies.

KING CLAUDIUS	Will you know them then?

LAERTES	To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms;
	And like the kind life-rendering pelican,
	Repast them with my blood.

KING CLAUDIUS	Why, now you speak
	Like a good child and a true gentleman.
	That I am guiltless of your father's death,
	And am most sensible in grief for it,
	It shall as level to your judgment pierce
	As day does to your eye.

Danes	[Within]                Let her come in.

LAERTES	How now! what noise is that?

	[Re-enter OPHELIA]

	O heat, dry up my brains! tears seven times salt,
	Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!
	By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight,
	Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May!
	Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!
	O heavens! is't possible, a young maid's wits
	Should be as moral as an old man's life?
	Nature is fine in love, and where 'tis fine,
	It sends some precious instance of itself
	After the thing it loves.

OPHELIA	[Sings]

	They bore him barefaced on the bier;
	Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny;
	And in his grave rain'd many a tear:--
	Fare you well, my dove!

LAERTES	Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,
	It could not move thus.

OPHELIA	[Sings]

	You must sing a-down a-down,
	An you call him a-down-a.
	O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false
	steward, that stole his master's daughter.

LAERTES	This nothing's more than matter.

OPHELIA	There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray,
	love, remember: and there is pansies. that's for thoughts.

LAERTES	A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted.

OPHELIA	There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue
	for you; and here's some for me: we may call it
	herb-grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with
	a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you
	some violets, but they withered all when my father
	died: they say he made a good end,--

	[Sings]

	For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.

LAERTES	Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,
	She turns to favour and to prettiness.

OPHELIA	[Sings]

	And will he not come again?
	And will he not come again?
	No, no, he is dead:
	Go to thy death-bed:
	He never will come again.

	His beard was as white as snow,
	All flaxen was his poll:
	He is gone, he is gone,
	And we cast away moan:
	God ha' mercy on his soul!

	And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God be wi' ye.

	[Exit]

LAERTES	Do you see this, O God?

KING CLAUDIUS	Laertes, I must commune with your grief,
	Or you deny me right. Go but apart,
	Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will.
	And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me:
	If by direct or by collateral hand
	They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give,
	Our crown, our life, and all that we can ours,
	To you in satisfaction; but if not,
	Be you content to lend your patience to us,
	And we shall jointly labour with your soul
	To give it due content.

LAERTES	Let this be so;
	His means of death, his obscure funeral--
	No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones,
	No noble rite nor formal ostentation--
	Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth,
	That I must call't in question.

KING CLAUDIUS	So you shall;
	And where the offence is let the great axe fall.
	I pray you, go with me.

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


ACT IV



SCENE VI	Another room in the castle.


	[Enter HORATIO and a Servant]

HORATIO	What are they that would speak with me?

Servant	Sailors, sir: they say they have letters for you.

HORATIO	Let them come in.

	[Exit Servant]

	I do not know from what part of the world
	I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet.

	[Enter Sailors]

First Sailor	God bless you, sir.

HORATIO	Let him bless thee too.

First Sailor	He shall, sir, an't please him. There's a letter for
	you, sir; it comes from the ambassador that was
	bound for England; if your name be Horatio, as I am
	let to know it is.

HORATIO	[Reads]  'Horatio, when thou shalt have overlooked
	this, give these fellows some means to the king:
	they have letters for him. Ere we were two days old
	at sea, a pirate of very warlike appointment gave us
	chase. Finding ourselves too slow of sail, we put on
	a compelled valour, and in the grapple I boarded
	them: on the instant they got clear of our ship; so
	I alone became their prisoner. They have dealt with
	me like thieves of mercy: but they knew what they
	did; I am to do a good turn for them. Let the king
	have the letters I have sent; and repair thou to me
	with as much speed as thou wouldst fly death. I
	have words to speak in thine ear will make thee
	dumb; yet are they much too light for the bore of
	the matter. These good fellows will bring thee
	where I am. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hold their
	course for England: of them I have much to tell
	thee. Farewell.
	'He that thou knowest thine, HAMLET.'
	Come, I will make you way for these your letters;
	And do't the speedier, that you may direct me
	To him from whom you brought them.

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


ACT IV


SCENE VII	Another room in the castle.


	[Enter KING CLAUDIUS and LAERTES]

KING CLAUDIUS	Now must your conscience my acquaintance seal,
	And you must put me in your heart for friend,
	Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear,
	That he which hath your noble father slain
	Pursued my life.

LAERTES	                  It well appears: but tell me
	Why you proceeded not against these feats,
	So crimeful and so capital in nature,
	As by your safety, wisdom, all things else,
	You mainly were stirr'd up.

KING CLAUDIUS	O, for two special reasons;
	Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinew'd,
	But yet to me they are strong. The queen his mother
	Lives almost by his looks; and for myself--
	My virtue or my plague, be it either which--
	She's so conjunctive to my life and soul,
	That, as the star moves not but in his sphere,
	I could not but by her. The other motive,
	Why to a public count I might not go,
	Is the great love the general gender bear him;
	Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,
	Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone,
	Convert his gyves to graces; so that my arrows,
	Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind,
	Would have reverted to my bow again,
	And not where I had aim'd them.

LAERTES	And so have I a noble father lost;
	A sister driven into desperate terms,
	Whose worth, if praises may go back again,
	Stood challenger on mount of all the age
	For her perfections: but my revenge will come.

KING CLAUDIUS	Break not your sleeps for that: you must not think
	That we are made of stuff so flat and dull
	That we can let our beard be shook with danger
	And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more:
	I loved your father, and we love ourself;
	And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine--

	[Enter a Messenger]

	How now! what news?

Messenger	Letters, my lord, from Hamlet:
	This to your majesty; this to the queen.

KING CLAUDIUS	From Hamlet! who brought them?

Messenger	Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not:
	They were given me by Claudio; he received them
	Of him that brought them.

KING CLAUDIUS	Laertes, you shall hear them. Leave us.

	[Exit Messenger]

	[Reads]

	'High and mighty, You shall know I am set naked on
	your kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg leave to see
	your kingly eyes: when I shall, first asking your
	pardon thereunto, recount the occasion of my sudden
	and more strange return.                  'HAMLET.'
	What should this mean? Are all the rest come back?
	Or is it some abuse, and no such thing?

LAERTES	Know you the hand?

KING CLAUDIUS	'Tis Hamlets character. 'Naked!
	And in a postscript here, he says 'alone.'
	Can you advise me?

LAERTES	I'm lost in it, my lord. But let him come;
	It warms the very sickness in my heart,
	That I shall live and tell him to his teeth,
	'Thus didest thou.'

KING CLAUDIUS	If it be so, Laertes--
	As how should it be so? how otherwise?--
	Will you be ruled by me?

LAERTES	Ay, my lord;
	So you will not o'errule me to a peace.

KING CLAUDIUS	To thine own peace. If he be now return'd,
	As checking at his voyage, and that he means
	No more to undertake it, I will work him
	To an exploit, now ripe in my device,
	Under the which he shall not choose but fall:
	And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe,
	But even his mother shall uncharge the practise
	And call it accident.

LAERTES	My lord, I will be ruled;
	The rather, if you could devise it so
	That I might be the organ.

KING CLAUDIUS	It falls right.
	You have been talk'd of since your travel much,
	And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality
	Wherein, they say, you shine: your sum of parts
	Did not together pluck such envy from him
	As did that one, and that, in my regard,
	Of the unworthiest siege.

LAERTES	What part is that, my lord?

KING CLAUDIUS	A very riband in the cap of youth,
	Yet needful too; for youth no less becomes
	The light and careless livery that it wears
	Than settled age his sables and his weeds,
	Importing health and graveness. Two months since,
	Here was a gentleman of Normandy:--
	I've seen myself, and served against, the French,
	And they can well on horseback: but this gallant
	Had witchcraft in't; he grew unto his seat;
	And to such wondrous doing brought his horse,
	As he had been incorpsed and demi-natured
	With the brave beast: so far he topp'd my thought,
	That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks,
	Come short of what he did.

LAERTES	A Norman was't?

KING CLAUDIUS	A Norman.

LAERTES	Upon my life, Lamond.

KING CLAUDIUS	The very same.

LAERTES	I know him well: he is the brooch indeed
	And gem of all the nation.

KING CLAUDIUS	He made confession of you,
	And gave you such a masterly report
	For art and exercise in your defence
	And for your rapier most especially,
	That he cried out, 'twould be a sight indeed,
	If one could match you: the scrimers of their nation,
	He swore, had had neither motion, guard, nor eye,
	If you opposed them. Sir, this report of his
	Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy
	That he could nothing do but wish and beg
	Your sudden coming o'er, to play with him.
	Now, out of this,--

LAERTES	What out of this, my lord?

KING CLAUDIUS	Laertes, was your father dear to you?
	Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,
	A face without a heart?

LAERTES	Why ask you this?

KING CLAUDIUS	Not that I think you did not love your father;
	But that I know love is begun by time;
	And that I see, in passages of proof,
	Time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
	There lives within the very flame of love
	A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it;
	And nothing is at a like goodness still;
	For goodness, growing to a plurisy,
	Dies in his own too much: that we would do
	We should do when we would; for this 'would' changes
	And hath abatements and delays as many
	As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents;
	And then this 'should' is like a spendthrift sigh,
	That hurts by easing. But, to the quick o' the ulcer:--
	Hamlet comes back: what would you undertake,
	To show yourself your father's son in deed
	More than in words?

LAERTES	To cut his throat i' the church.

KING CLAUDIUS	No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize;
	Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes,
	Will you do this, keep close within your chamber.
	Hamlet return'd shall know you are come home:
	We'll put on those shall praise your excellence
	And set a double varnish on the fame
	The Frenchman gave you, bring you in fine together
	And wager on your heads: he, being remiss,
	Most generous and free from all contriving,
	Will not peruse the foils; so that, with ease,
	Or with a little shuffling, you may choose
	A sword unbated, and in a pass of practise
	Requite him for your father.

LAERTES	I will do't:
	And, for that purpose, I'll anoint my sword.
	I bought an unction of a mountebank,
	So mortal that, but dip a knife in it,
	Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare,
	Collected from all simples that have virtue
	Under the moon, can save the thing from death
	That is but scratch'd withal: I'll touch my point
	With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly,
	It may be death.

KING CLAUDIUS	                  Let's further think of this;
	Weigh what convenience both of time and means
	May fit us to our shape: if this should fail,
	And that our drift look through our bad performance,
	'Twere better not assay'd: therefore this project
	Should have a back or second, that might hold,
	If this should blast in proof. Soft! let me see:
	We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings: I ha't.
	When in your motion you are hot and dry--
	As make your bouts more violent to that end--
	And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepared him
	A chalice for the nonce, whereon but sipping,
	If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck,
	Our purpose may hold there.

	[Enter QUEEN GERTRUDE]

		      How now, sweet queen!

QUEEN GERTRUDE	One woe doth tread upon another's heel,
	So fast they follow; your sister's drown'd, Laertes.

LAERTES	Drown'd! O, where?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	There is a willow grows aslant a brook,
	That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;
	There with fantastic garlands did she come
	Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples
	That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
	But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them:
	There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds
	Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;
	When down her weedy trophies and herself
	Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide;
	And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up:
	Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes;
	As one incapable of her own distress,
	Or like a creature native and indued
	Unto that element: but long it could not be
	Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
	Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay
	To muddy death.

LAERTES	                  Alas, then, she is drown'd?

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Drown'd, drown'd.

LAERTES	Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia,
	And therefore I forbid my tears: but yet
	It is our trick; nature her custom holds,
	Let shame say what it will: when these are gone,
	The woman will be out. Adieu, my lord:
	I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze,
	But that this folly douts it.

	[Exit]

KING CLAUDIUS	Let's follow, Gertrude:
	How much I had to do to calm his rage!
	Now fear I this will give it start again;
	Therefore let's follow.

	[Exeunt]




	HAMLET


ACT V



SCENE I	A churchyard.


	[Enter two Clowns, with spades, &c]

First Clown	Is she to be buried in Christian burial that
	wilfully seeks her own salvation?

Second Clown	I tell thee she is: and therefore make her grave
	straight: the crowner hath sat on her, and finds it
	Christian burial.

First Clown	How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her
	own defence?

Second Clown	Why, 'tis found so.

First Clown	It must be 'se offendendo;' it cannot be else. For
	here lies the point:  if I drown myself wittingly,
	it argues an act: and an act hath three branches: it
	is, to act, to do, to perform: argal, she drowned
	herself wittingly.

Second Clown	Nay, but hear you, goodman delver,--

First Clown	Give me leave. Here lies the water; good: here
	stands the man; good; if the man go to this water,
	and drown himself, it is, will he, nill he, he
	goes,--mark you that; but if the water come to him
	and drown him, he drowns not himself: argal, he
	that is not guilty of his own death shortens not his own life.

Second Clown	But is this law?

First Clown	Ay, marry, is't; crowner's quest law.

Second Clown	Will you ha' the truth on't? If this had not been
	a gentlewoman, she should have been buried out o'
	Christian burial.

First Clown	Why, there thou say'st: and the more pity that
	great folk should have countenance in this world to
	drown or hang themselves, more than their even
	Christian. Come, my spade. There is no ancient
	gentleman but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers:
	they hold up Adam's profession.

Second Clown	Was he a gentleman?

First Clown	He was the first that ever bore arms.

Second Clown	Why, he had none.

First Clown	What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the
	Scripture? The Scripture says 'Adam digged:'
	could he dig without arms? I'll put another
	question to thee: if thou answerest me not to the
	purpose, confess thyself--

Second Clown	Go to.

First Clown	What is he that builds stronger than either the
	mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter?

Second Clown	The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a
	thousand tenants.

First Clown	I like thy wit well, in good faith: the gallows
	does well; but how does it well? it does well to
	those that do in: now thou dost ill to say the
	gallows is built stronger than the church: argal,
	the gallows may do well to thee. To't again, come.

Second Clown	'Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or
	a carpenter?'

First Clown	Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.

Second Clown	Marry, now I can tell.

First Clown	To't.

Second Clown	Mass, I cannot tell.

	[Enter HAMLET and HORATIO, at a distance]

First Clown	Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull
	ass will not mend his pace with beating; and, when
	you are asked this question next, say 'a
	grave-maker: 'the houses that he makes last till
	doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan: fetch me a
	stoup of liquor.

	[Exit Second Clown]

	[He digs and sings]

	In youth, when I did love, did love,
	Methought it was very sweet,
	To contract, O, the time, for, ah, my behove,
	O, methought, there was nothing meet.

HAMLET	Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he
	sings at grave-making?

HORATIO	Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.

HAMLET	'Tis e'en so: the hand of little employment hath
	the daintier sense.

First Clown	[Sings]

	But age, with his stealing steps,
	Hath claw'd me in his clutch,
	And hath shipped me intil the land,
	As if I had never been such.

	[Throws up a skull]

HAMLET	That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once:
	how the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were
	Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder! It
	might be the pate of a politician, which this ass
	now o'er-reaches; one that would circumvent God,
	might it not?

HORATIO	It might, my lord.

HAMLET	Or of a courtier; which could say 'Good morrow,
	sweet lord! How dost thou, good lord?' This might
	be my lord such-a-one, that praised my lord
	such-a-one's horse, when he meant to beg it; might it not?

HORATIO	Ay, my lord.

HAMLET	Why, e'en so: and now my Lady Worm's; chapless, and
	knocked about the mazzard with a sexton's spade:
	here's fine revolution, an we had the trick to
	see't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding,
	but to play at loggats with 'em? mine ache to think on't.

First Clown: [Sings]

	A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade,
	For and a shrouding sheet:
	O, a pit of clay for to be made
	For such a guest is meet.

	[Throws up another skull]

HAMLET	There's another: why may not that be the skull of a
	lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, his quillets,
	his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? why does he
	suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the
	sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of
	his action of battery? Hum! This fellow might be
	in's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes,
	his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers,
	his recoveries: is this the fine of his fines, and
	the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine
	pate full of fine dirt? will his vouchers vouch him
	no more of his purchases, and double ones too, than
	the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? The
	very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in
	this box; and must the inheritor himself have no more, ha?

HORATIO	Not a jot more, my lord.

HAMLET	Is not parchment made of sheepskins?

HORATIO	Ay, my lord, and of calf-skins too.

HAMLET	They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance
	in that. I will speak to this fellow. Whose
	grave's this, sirrah?

First Clown	Mine, sir.

	[Sings]

	O, a pit of clay for to be made
	For such a guest is meet.

HAMLET	I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't.

First Clown	You lie out on't, sir, and therefore it is not
	yours: for my part, I do not lie in't, and yet it is mine.

HAMLET	'Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say it is thine:
	'tis for the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest.

First Clown	'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away gain, from me to
	you.

HAMLET	What man dost thou dig it for?

First Clown	For no man, sir.

HAMLET	What woman, then?

First Clown	For none, neither.

HAMLET	Who is to be buried in't?

First Clown	One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead.

HAMLET	How absolute the knave is! we must speak by the
	card, or equivocation will undo us. By the Lord,
	Horatio, these three years I have taken a note of
	it; the age is grown so picked that the toe of the
	peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he
	gaffs his kibe. How long hast thou been a
	grave-maker?

First Clown	Of all the days i' the year, I came to't that day
	that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras.

HAMLET	How long is that since?

First Clown	Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that: it
	was the very day that young Hamlet was born; he that
	is mad, and sent into England.

HAMLET	Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?

First Clown	Why, because he was mad: he shall recover his wits
	there; or, if he do not, it's no great matter there.

HAMLET	Why?

First Clown	'Twill, a not be seen in him there; there the men
	are as mad as he.

HAMLET	How came he mad?

First Clown	Very strangely, they say.

HAMLET	How strangely?

First Clown	Faith, e'en with losing his wits.

HAMLET	Upon what ground?

First Clown	Why, here in Denmark: I have been sexton here, man
	and boy, thirty years.

HAMLET	How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot?

First Clown	I' faith, if he be not rotten before he die--as we
	have many pocky corses now-a-days, that will scarce
	hold the laying in--he will last you some eight year
	or nine year: a tanner will last you nine year.

HAMLET	Why he more than another?

First Clown	Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his trade, that
	he will keep out water a great while; and your water
	is a sore decayer of your whoreson dead body.
	Here's a skull now; this skull has lain in the earth
	three and twenty years.

HAMLET	Whose was it?

First Clown	A whoreson mad fellow's it was: whose do you think it was?

HAMLET	Nay, I know not.

First Clown	A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! a' poured a
	flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same skull,
	sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's jester.

HAMLET	This?

First Clown	E'en that.

HAMLET	Let me see.

	[Takes the skull]

	Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow
	of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath
	borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how
	abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at
	it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know
	not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your
	gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment,
	that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one
	now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?
	Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let
	her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must
	come; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell
	me one thing.

HORATIO	What's that, my lord?

HAMLET	Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i'
	the earth?

HORATIO	E'en so.

HAMLET	And smelt so? pah!

	[Puts down the skull]

HORATIO	E'en so, my lord.

HAMLET	To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may
	not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander,
	till he find it stopping a bung-hole?

HORATIO	'Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so.

HAMLET	No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with
	modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: as
	thus: Alexander died, Alexander was buried,
	Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of
	earth we make loam; and why of that loam, whereto he
	was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel?
	Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay,
	Might stop a hole to keep the wind away:
	O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,
	Should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw!
	But soft! but soft! aside: here comes the king.

	[Enter Priest, &c. in procession; the Corpse of
	OPHELIA, LAERTES and Mourners following; KING
	CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, their trains, &c]

	The queen, the courtiers: who is this they follow?
	And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken
	The corse they follow did with desperate hand
	Fordo its own life: 'twas of some estate.
	Couch we awhile, and mark.

	[Retiring with HORATIO]

LAERTES	What ceremony else?

HAMLET	That is Laertes,
	A very noble youth: mark.

LAERTES	What ceremony else?

First Priest	Her obsequies have been as far enlarged
	As we have warrantise: her death was doubtful;
	And, but that great command o'ersways the order,
	She should in ground unsanctified have lodged
	Till the last trumpet: for charitable prayers,
	Shards, flints and pebbles should be thrown on her;
	Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants,
	Her maiden strewments and the bringing home
	Of bell and burial.

LAERTES	Must there no more be done?

First Priest	No more be done:
	We should profane the service of the dead
	To sing a requiem and such rest to her
	As to peace-parted souls.

LAERTES	Lay her i' the earth:
	And from her fair and unpolluted flesh
	May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest,
	A ministering angel shall my sister be,
	When thou liest howling.

HAMLET	What, the fair Ophelia!

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Sweets to the sweet: farewell!

	[Scattering flowers]

	I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife;
	I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid,
	And not have strew'd thy grave.

LAERTES	O, treble woe
	Fall ten times treble on that cursed head,
	Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense
	Deprived thee of! Hold off the earth awhile,
	Till I have caught her once more in mine arms:

	[Leaps into the grave]

	Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead,
	Till of this flat a mountain you have made,
	To o'ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head
	Of blue Olympus.

HAMLET	[Advancing]     What is he whose grief
	Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow
	Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand
	Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I,
	Hamlet the Dane.

	[Leaps into the grave]

LAERTES	                  The devil take thy soul!

	[Grappling with him]

HAMLET	Thou pray'st not well.
	I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat;
	For, though I am not splenitive and rash,
	Yet have I something in me dangerous,
	Which let thy wiseness fear: hold off thy hand.

KING CLAUDIUS	Pluck them asunder.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Hamlet, Hamlet!

All	Gentlemen,--

HORATIO	                  Good my lord, be quiet.

	[The Attendants part them, and they come out of the grave]

HAMLET	Why I will fight with him upon this theme
	Until my eyelids will no longer wag.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	O my son, what theme?

HAMLET	I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers
	Could not, with all their quantity of love,
	Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?

KING CLAUDIUS	O, he is mad, Laertes.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	For love of God, forbear him.

HAMLET	'Swounds, show me what thou'lt do:
	Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself?
	Woo't drink up eisel? eat a crocodile?
	I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine?
	To outface me with leaping in her grave?
	Be buried quick with her, and so will I:
	And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
	Millions of acres on us, till our ground,
	Singeing his pate against the burning zone,
	Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth,
	I'll rant as well as thou.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	This is mere madness:
	And thus awhile the fit will work on him;
	Anon, as patient as the female dove,
	When that her golden couplets are disclosed,
	His silence will sit drooping.

HAMLET	Hear you, sir;
	What is the reason that you use me thus?
	I loved you ever: but it is no matter;
	Let Hercules himself do what he may,
	The cat will mew and dog will have his day.

	[Exit]

KING CLAUDIUS	I pray you, good Horatio, wait upon him.

	[Exit HORATIO]

	[To LAERTES]

	Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech;
	We'll put the matter to the present push.
	Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son.
	This grave shall have a living monument:
	An hour of quiet shortly shall we see;
	Till then, in patience our proceeding be.

	[Exeunt]



	HAMLET


ACT V



SCENE II	A hall in the castle.


	[Enter HAMLET and HORATIO]

HAMLET	So much for this, sir: now shall you see the other;
	You do remember all the circumstance?

HORATIO	Remember it, my lord?

HAMLET	Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting,
	That would not let me sleep: methought I lay
	Worse than the mutines in the bilboes. Rashly,
	And praised be rashness for it, let us know,
	Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well,
	When our deep plots do pall: and that should teach us
	There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
	Rough-hew them how we will,--

HORATIO	That is most certain.

HAMLET	Up from my cabin,
	My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark
	Groped I to find out them; had my desire.
	Finger'd their packet, and in fine withdrew
	To mine own room again; making so bold,
	My fears forgetting manners, to unseal
	Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio,--
	O royal knavery!--an exact command,
	Larded with many several sorts of reasons
	Importing Denmark's health and England's too,
	With, ho! such bugs and goblins in my life,
	That, on the supervise, no leisure bated,
	No, not to stay the grinding of the axe,
	My head should be struck off.

HORATIO	Is't possible?

HAMLET	Here's the commission: read it at more leisure.
	But wilt thou hear me how I did proceed?

HORATIO	I beseech you.

HAMLET	Being thus be-netted round with villanies,--
	Ere I could make a prologue to my brains,
	They had begun the play--I sat me down,
	Devised a new commission, wrote it fair:
	I once did hold it, as our statists do,
	A baseness to write fair and labour'd much
	How to forget that learning, but, sir, now
	It did me yeoman's service: wilt thou know
	The effect of what I wrote?

HORATIO	Ay, good my lord.

HAMLET	An earnest conjuration from the king,
	As England was his faithful tributary,
	As love between them like the palm might flourish,
	As peace should stiff her wheaten garland wear
	And stand a comma 'tween their amities,
	And many such-like 'As'es of great charge,
	That, on the view and knowing of these contents,
	Without debatement further, more or less,
	He should the bearers put to sudden death,
	Not shriving-time allow'd.

HORATIO	How was this seal'd?

HAMLET	Why, even in that was heaven ordinant.
	I had my father's signet in my purse,
	Which was the model of that Danish seal;
	Folded the writ up in form of the other,
	Subscribed it, gave't the impression, placed it safely,
	The changeling never known. Now, the next day
	Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequent
	Thou know'st already.

HORATIO	So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't.

HAMLET	Why, man, they did make love to this employment;
	They are not near my conscience; their defeat
	Does by their own insinuation grow:
	'Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes
	Between the pass and fell incensed points
	Of mighty opposites.

HORATIO	Why, what a king is this!

HAMLET	Does it not, think'st thee, stand me now upon--
	He that hath kill'd my king and whored my mother,
	Popp'd in between the election and my hopes,
	Thrown out his angle for my proper life,
	And with such cozenage--is't not perfect conscience,
	To quit him with this arm? and is't not to be damn'd,
	To let this canker of our nature come
	In further evil?

HORATIO	It must be shortly known to him from England
	What is the issue of the business there.

HAMLET	It will be short: the interim is mine;
	And a man's life's no more than to say 'One.'
	But I am very sorry, good Horatio,
	That to Laertes I forgot myself;
	For, by the image of my cause, I see
	The portraiture of his: I'll court his favours.
	But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me
	Into a towering passion.

HORATIO	Peace! who comes here?

	[Enter OSRIC]

OSRIC	Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark.

HAMLET	I humbly thank you, sir. Dost know this water-fly?

HORATIO	No, my good lord.

HAMLET	Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis a vice to
	know him. He hath much land, and fertile: let a
	beast be lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at
	the king's mess: 'tis a chough; but, as I say,
	spacious in the possession of dirt.

OSRIC	Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I
	should impart a thing to you from his majesty.

HAMLET	I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of
	spirit. Put your bonnet to his right use; 'tis for the head.

OSRIC	I thank your lordship, it is very hot.

HAMLET	No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is
	northerly.

OSRIC	It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed.

HAMLET	But yet methinks it is very sultry and hot for my
	complexion.

OSRIC	Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry,--as
	'twere,--I cannot tell how. But, my lord, his
	majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a
	great wager on your head: sir, this is the matter,--

HAMLET	I beseech you, remember--

	[HAMLET moves him to put on his hat]

OSRIC	Nay, good my lord; for mine ease, in good faith.
	Sir, here is newly come to court Laertes; believe
	me, an absolute gentleman, full of most excellent
	differences, of very soft society and great showing:
	indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the card or
	calendar of gentry, for you shall find in him the
	continent of what part a gentleman would see.

HAMLET	Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you;
	though, I know, to divide him inventorially would
	dizzy the arithmetic of memory, and yet but yaw
	neither, in respect of his quick sail. But, in the
	verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of
	great article; and his infusion of such dearth and
	rareness, as, to make true diction of him, his
	semblable is his mirror; and who else would trace
	him, his umbrage, nothing more.

OSRIC	Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him.

HAMLET	The concernancy, sir? why do we wrap the gentleman
	in our more rawer breath?

OSRIC	Sir?

HORATIO	Is't not possible to understand in another tongue?
	You will do't, sir, really.

HAMLET	What imports the nomination of this gentleman?

OSRIC	Of Laertes?

HORATIO	His purse is empty already; all's golden words are spent.

HAMLET	Of him, sir.

OSRIC	I know you are not ignorant--

HAMLET	I would you did, sir; yet, in faith, if you did,
	it would not much approve me. Well, sir?

OSRIC	You are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is--

HAMLET	I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with
	him in excellence; but, to know a man well, were to
	know himself.

OSRIC	I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in the imputation
	laid on him by them, in his meed he's unfellowed.

HAMLET	What's his weapon?

OSRIC	Rapier and dagger.

HAMLET	That's two of his weapons: but, well.

OSRIC	The king, sir, hath wagered with him six Barbary
	horses: against the which he has imponed, as I take
	it, six French rapiers and poniards, with their
	assigns, as girdle, hangers, and so: three of the
	carriages, in faith, are very dear to fancy, very
	responsive to the hilts, most delicate carriages,
	and of very liberal conceit.

HAMLET	What call you the carriages?

HORATIO	I knew you must be edified by the margent ere you had done.

OSRIC	The carriages, sir, are the hangers.

HAMLET	The phrase would be more german to the matter, if we
	could carry cannon by our sides: I would it might
	be hangers till then. But, on: six Barbary horses
	against six French swords, their assigns, and three
	liberal-conceited carriages; that's the French bet
	against the Danish. Why is this 'imponed,' as you call it?

OSRIC	The king, sir, hath laid, that in a dozen passes
	between yourself and him, he shall not exceed you
	three hits: he hath laid on twelve for nine; and it
	would come to immediate trial, if your lordship
	would vouchsafe the answer.

HAMLET	How if I answer 'no'?

OSRIC	I mean, my lord, the opposition of your person in trial.

HAMLET	Sir, I will walk here in the hall: if it please his
	majesty, 'tis the breathing time of day with me; let
	the foils be brought, the gentleman willing, and the
	king hold his purpose, I will win for him an I can;
	if not, I will gain nothing but my shame and the odd hits.

OSRIC	Shall I re-deliver you e'en so?

HAMLET	To this effect, sir; after what flourish your nature will.

OSRIC	I commend my duty to your lordship.

HAMLET	Yours, yours.

	[Exit OSRIC]

	He does well to commend it himself; there are no
	tongues else for's turn.

HORATIO	This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head.

HAMLET	He did comply with his dug, before he sucked it.
	Thus has he--and many more of the same bevy that I
	know the dressy age dotes on--only got the tune of
	the time and outward habit of encounter; a kind of
	yesty collection, which carries them through and
	through the most fond and winnowed opinions; and do
	but blow them to their trial, the bubbles are out.

	[Enter a Lord]

Lord	My lord, his majesty commended him to you by young
	Osric, who brings back to him that you attend him in
	the hall: he sends to know if your pleasure hold to
	play with Laertes, or that you will take longer time.

HAMLET	I am constant to my purpose; they follow the king's
	pleasure: if his fitness speaks, mine is ready; now
	or whensoever, provided I be so able as now.

Lord	The king and queen and all are coming down.

HAMLET	In happy time.

Lord	The queen desires you to use some gentle
	entertainment to Laertes before you fall to play.

HAMLET	She well instructs me.

	[Exit Lord]

HORATIO	You will lose this wager, my lord.

HAMLET	I do not think so: since he went into France, I
	have been in continual practise: I shall win at the
	odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here
	about my heart: but it is no matter.

HORATIO	Nay, good my lord,--

HAMLET	It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of
	gain-giving, as would perhaps trouble a woman.

HORATIO	If your mind dislike any thing, obey it: I will
	forestall their repair hither, and say you are not
	fit.

HAMLET	Not a whit, we defy augury: there's a special
	providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now,
	'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be
	now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the
	readiness is all: since no man has aught of what he
	leaves, what is't to leave betimes?

	[Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, LAERTES,
	Lords, OSRIC, and Attendants with foils, &c]

KING CLAUDIUS	Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me.

	[KING CLAUDIUS puts LAERTES' hand into HAMLET's]

HAMLET	Give me your pardon, sir: I've done you wrong;
	But pardon't, as you are a gentleman.
	This presence knows,
	And you must needs have heard, how I am punish'd
	With sore distraction. What I have done,
	That might your nature, honour and exception
	Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness.
	Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Never Hamlet:
	If Hamlet from himself be ta'en away,
	And when he's not himself does wrong Laertes,
	Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it.
	Who does it, then? His madness: if't be so,
	Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd;
	His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy.
	Sir, in this audience,
	Let my disclaiming from a purposed evil
	Free me so far in your most generous thoughts,
	That I have shot mine arrow o'er the house,
	And hurt my brother.

LAERTES	I am satisfied in nature,
	Whose motive, in this case, should stir me most
	To my revenge: but in my terms of honour
	I stand aloof; and will no reconcilement,
	Till by some elder masters, of known honour,
	I have a voice and precedent of peace,
	To keep my name ungored. But till that time,
	I do receive your offer'd love like love,
	And will not wrong it.

HAMLET	I embrace it freely;
	And will this brother's wager frankly play.
	Give us the foils. Come on.

LAERTES	Come, one for me.

HAMLET	I'll be your foil, Laertes: in mine ignorance
	Your skill shall, like a star i' the darkest night,
	Stick fiery off indeed.

LAERTES	You mock me, sir.

HAMLET	No, by this hand.

KING CLAUDIUS	Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet,
	You know the wager?

HAMLET	Very well, my lord
	Your grace hath laid the odds o' the weaker side.

KING CLAUDIUS	I do not fear it; I have seen you both:
	But since he is better'd, we have therefore odds.

LAERTES	This is too heavy, let me see another.

HAMLET	This likes me well. These foils have all a length?

	[They prepare to play]

OSRIC	Ay, my good lord.

KING CLAUDIUS	Set me the stoops of wine upon that table.
	If Hamlet give the first or second hit,
	Or quit in answer of the third exchange,
	Let all the battlements their ordnance fire:
	The king shall drink to Hamlet's better breath;
	And in the cup an union shall he throw,
	Richer than that which four successive kings
	In Denmark's crown have worn. Give me the cups;
	And let the kettle to the trumpet speak,
	The trumpet to the cannoneer without,
	The cannons to the heavens, the heavens to earth,
	'Now the king dunks to Hamlet.' Come, begin:
	And you, the judges, bear a wary eye.

HAMLET	Come on, sir.

LAERTES	                  Come, my lord.

	[They play]

HAMLET	One.

LAERTES	No.

HAMLET	Judgment.

OSRIC	A hit, a very palpable hit.

LAERTES	Well; again.

KING CLAUDIUS	Stay; give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is thine;
	Here's to thy health.

	[Trumpets sound, and cannon shot off within]

		Give him the cup.

HAMLET	I'll play this bout first; set it by awhile. Come.

	[They play]

	Another hit; what say you?

LAERTES	A touch, a touch, I do confess.

KING CLAUDIUS	Our son shall win.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	                  He's fat, and scant of breath.
	Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows;
	The queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet.

HAMLET	Good madam!

KING CLAUDIUS	          Gertrude, do not drink.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	I will, my lord; I pray you, pardon me.

KING CLAUDIUS	[Aside]  It is the poison'd cup: it is too late.

HAMLET	I dare not drink yet, madam; by and by.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	Come, let me wipe thy face.

LAERTES	My lord, I'll hit him now.

KING CLAUDIUS	I do not think't.

LAERTES	[Aside]  And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience.

HAMLET	Come, for the third, Laertes: you but dally;
	I pray you, pass with your best violence;
	I am afeard you make a wanton of me.

LAERTES	Say you so? come on.

	[They play]

OSRIC	Nothing, neither way.

LAERTES	Have at you now!

	[LAERTES wounds HAMLET; then in scuffling, they
	change rapiers, and HAMLET wounds LAERTES]

KING CLAUDIUS	Part them; they are incensed.

HAMLET	Nay, come, again.

	[QUEEN GERTRUDE falls]

OSRIC	                  Look to the queen there, ho!

HORATIO	They bleed on both sides. How is it, my lord?

OSRIC	How is't, Laertes?

LAERTES	Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric;
	I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery.

HAMLET	How does the queen?

KING CLAUDIUS	She swounds to see them bleed.

QUEEN GERTRUDE	No, no, the drink, the drink,--O my dear Hamlet,--
	The drink, the drink! I am poison'd.

	[Dies]

HAMLET	O villany! Ho! let the door be lock'd:
	Treachery! Seek it out.

LAERTES	It is here, Hamlet: Hamlet, thou art slain;
	No medicine in the world can do thee good;
	In thee there is not half an hour of life;
	The treacherous instrument is in thy hand,
	Unbated and envenom'd: the foul practise
	Hath turn'd itself on me lo, here I lie,
	Never to rise again: thy mother's poison'd:
	I can no more: the king, the king's to blame.

HAMLET	The point!--envenom'd too!
	Then, venom, to thy work.

	[Stabs KING CLAUDIUS]

All	Treason! treason!

KING CLAUDIUS	O, yet defend me, friends; I am but hurt.

HAMLET	Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane,
	Drink off this potion. Is thy union here?
	Follow my mother.

	[KING CLAUDIUS dies]

LAERTES	                  He is justly served;
	It is a poison temper'd by himself.
	Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet:
	Mine and my father's death come not upon thee,
	Nor thine on me.

	[Dies]

HAMLET	Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee.
	I am dead, Horatio. Wretched queen, adieu!
	You that look pale and tremble at this chance,
	That are but mutes or audience to this act,
	Had I but time--as this fell sergeant, death,
	Is strict in his arrest--O, I could tell you--
	But let it be. Horatio, I am dead;
	Thou livest; report me and my cause aright
	To the unsatisfied.

HORATIO	Never believe it:
	I am more an antique Roman than a Dane:
	Here's yet some liquor left.

HAMLET	As thou'rt a man,
	Give me the cup: let go; by heaven, I'll have't.
	O good Horatio, what a wounded name,
	Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me!
	If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart
	Absent thee from felicity awhile,
	And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,
	To tell my story.

	[March afar off, and shot within]

	What warlike noise is this?

OSRIC	Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland,
	To the ambassadors of England gives
	This warlike volley.

HAMLET	O, I die, Horatio;
	The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit:
	I cannot live to hear the news from England;
	But I do prophesy the election lights
	On Fortinbras: he has my dying voice;
	So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less,
	Which have solicited. The rest is silence.

	[Dies]

HORATIO	Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince:
	And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!
	Why does the drum come hither?

	[March within]

	[Enter FORTINBRAS, the English Ambassadors,
	and others]

PRINCE FORTINBRAS	Where is this sight?

HORATIO	What is it ye would see?
	If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.

PRINCE FORTINBRAS	This quarry cries on havoc. O proud death,
	What feast is toward in thine eternal cell,
	That thou so many princes at a shot
	So bloodily hast struck?

First Ambassador	The sight is dismal;
	And our affairs from England come too late:
	The ears are senseless that should give us hearing,
	To tell him his commandment is fulfill'd,
	That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead:
	Where should we have our thanks?

HORATIO	Not from his mouth,
	Had it the ability of life to thank you:
	He never gave commandment for their death.
	But since, so jump upon this bloody question,
	You from the Polack wars, and you from England,
	Are here arrived give order that these bodies
	High on a stage be placed to the view;
	And let me speak to the yet unknowing world
	How these things came about: so shall you hear
	Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts,
	Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters,
	Of deaths put on by cunning and forced cause,
	And, in this upshot, purposes mistook
	Fall'n on the inventors' reads: all this can I
	Truly deliver.

PRINCE FORTINBRAS	                  Let us haste to hear it,
	And call the noblest to the audience.
	For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune:
	I have some rights of memory in this kingdom,
	Which now to claim my vantage doth invite me.

HORATIO	Of that I shall have also cause to speak,
	And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more;
	But let this same be presently perform'd,
	Even while men's minds are wild; lest more mischance
	On plots and errors, happen.

PRINCE FORTINBRAS	Let four captains
	Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage;
	For he was likely, had he been put on,
	To have proved most royally: and, for his passage,
	The soldiers' music and the rites of war
	Speak loudly for him.
	Take up the bodies: such a sight as this
	Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss.
	Go, bid the soldiers shoot.

	[A dead march. Exeunt, bearing off the dead
	bodies; after which a peal of ordnance is shot off]




	OTHELLO


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


DUKE OF VENICE:

BRABANTIO	a senator.

	Other Senators.
	(Senator:)
	(First Senator:)
	(Second Senator:)

GRATIANO	brother to Brabantio.

LODOVICO	kinsman to Brabantio.

OTHELLO	a noble Moor in the service of the Venetian state.

CASSIO	his lieutenant.

IAGO	his ancient.

RODERIGO	a Venetian gentleman.

MONTANO	Othello's predecessor in the government of Cyprus.

	Clown, servant to Othello. (Clown:)

DESDEMONA	daughter to Brabantio and wife to Othello.

EMILIA	wife to Iago.

BIANCA	mistress to Cassio.

	Sailor, Messenger, Herald, Officers, Gentlemen,
	Musicians, and Attendants.
	(Sailor:)
	(First Officer:)
	(Messenger:)
	(Gentleman:)
	(First Gentleman:)
	(Second Gentleman:)
	(Third Gentleman:)
	(First Musician:)


SCENE	Venice: a Sea-port in Cyprus.




	OTHELLO


ACT I



SCENE I	Venice. A street.


	[Enter RODERIGO and IAGO]

RODERIGO	Tush! never tell me; I take it much unkindly
	That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse
	As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.

IAGO	'Sblood, but you will not hear me:
	If ever I did dream of such a matter, Abhor me.

RODERIGO	Thou told'st me thou didst hold him in thy hate.

IAGO	Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city,
	In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,
	Off-capp'd to him: and, by the faith of man,
	I know my price, I am worth no worse a place:
	But he; as loving his own pride and purposes,
	Evades them, with a bombast circumstance
	Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war;
	And, in conclusion,
	Nonsuits my mediators; for, 'Certes,' says he,
	'I have already chose my officer.'
	And what was he?
	Forsooth, a great arithmetician,
	One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,
	A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife;
	That never set a squadron in the field,
	Nor the division of a battle knows
	More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric,
	Wherein the toged consuls can propose
	As masterly as he: mere prattle, without practise,
	Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election:
	And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof
	At Rhodes, at Cyprus and on other grounds
	Christian and heathen, must be be-lee'd and calm'd
	By debitor and creditor: this counter-caster,
	He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,
	And I--God bless the mark!--his Moorship's ancient.

RODERIGO	By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman.

IAGO	Why, there's no remedy; 'tis the curse of service,
	Preferment goes by letter and affection,
	And not by old gradation, where each second
	Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself,
	Whether I in any just term am affined
	To love the Moor.

RODERIGO	I would not follow him then.

IAGO	O, sir, content you;
	I follow him to serve my turn upon him:
	We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
	Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark
	Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave,
	That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,
	Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,
	For nought but provender, and when he's old, cashier'd:
	Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are
	Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty,
	Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves,
	And, throwing but shows of service on their lords,
	Do well thrive by them and when they have lined
	their coats
	Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul;
	And such a one do I profess myself. For, sir,
	It is as sure as you are Roderigo,
	Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago:
	In following him, I follow but myself;
	Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
	But seeming so, for my peculiar end:
	For when my outward action doth demonstrate
	The native act and figure of my heart
	In compliment extern, 'tis not long after
	But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
	For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.

RODERIGO	What a full fortune does the thicklips owe
	If he can carry't thus!

IAGO	Call up her father,
	Rouse him: make after him, poison his delight,
	Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen,
	And, though he in a fertile climate dwell,
	Plague him with flies: though that his joy be joy,
	Yet throw such changes of vexation on't,
	As it may lose some colour.

RODERIGO	Here is her father's house; I'll call aloud.

IAGO	Do, with like timorous accent and dire yell
	As when, by night and negligence, the fire
	Is spied in populous cities.

RODERIGO	What, ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho!

IAGO	Awake! what, ho, Brabantio! thieves! thieves! thieves!
	Look to your house, your daughter and your bags!
	Thieves! thieves!

	[BRABANTIO appears above, at a window]

BRABANTIO	What is the reason of this terrible summons?
	What is the matter there?

RODERIGO	Signior, is all your family within?

IAGO	Are your doors lock'd?

BRABANTIO	Why, wherefore ask you this?

IAGO	'Zounds, sir, you're robb'd; for shame, put on
	your gown;
	Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul;
	Even now, now, very now, an old black ram
	Is topping your white ewe. Arise, arise;
	Awake the snorting citizens with the bell,
	Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you:
	Arise, I say.

BRABANTIO	                  What, have you lost your wits?

RODERIGO	Most reverend signior, do you know my voice?

BRABANTIO	Not I	what are you?

RODERIGO	My name is Roderigo.

BRABANTIO	The worser welcome:
	I have charged thee not to haunt about my doors:
	In honest plainness thou hast heard me say
	My daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness,
	Being full of supper and distempering draughts,
	Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come
	To start my quiet.

RODERIGO	Sir, sir, sir,--

BRABANTIO	                  But thou must needs be sure
	My spirit and my place have in them power
	To make this bitter to thee.

RODERIGO	Patience, good sir.

BRABANTIO	What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is Venice;
	My house is not a grange.

RODERIGO	Most grave Brabantio,
	In simple and pure soul I come to you.

IAGO	'Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will not
	serve God, if the devil bid you. Because we come to
	do you service and you think we are ruffians, you'll
	have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse;
	you'll have your nephews neigh to you; you'll have
	coursers for cousins and gennets for germans.

BRABANTIO	What profane wretch art thou?

IAGO	I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter
	and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.

BRABANTIO	Thou art a villain.

IAGO	You are--a senator.

BRABANTIO	This thou shalt answer; I know thee, Roderigo.

RODERIGO	Sir, I will answer any thing. But, I beseech you,
	If't be your pleasure and most wise consent,
	As partly I find it is, that your fair daughter,
	At this odd-even and dull watch o' the night,
	Transported, with no worse nor better guard
	But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier,
	To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor--
	If this be known to you and your allowance,
	We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs;
	But if you know not this, my manners tell me
	We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe
	That, from the sense of all civility,
	I thus would play and trifle with your reverence:
	Your daughter, if you have not given her leave,
	I say again, hath made a gross revolt;
	Tying her duty, beauty, wit and fortunes
	In an extravagant and wheeling stranger
	Of here and every where. Straight satisfy yourself:
	If she be in her chamber or your house,
	Let loose on me the justice of the state
	For thus deluding you.

BRABANTIO	Strike on the tinder, ho!
	Give me a taper! call up all my people!
	This accident is not unlike my dream:
	Belief of it oppresses me already.
	Light, I say! light!

	[Exit above]

IAGO	Farewell; for I must leave you:
	It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place,
	To be produced--as, if I stay, I shall--
	Against the Moor: for, I do know, the state,
	However this may gall him with some cheque,
	Cannot with safety cast him, for he's embark'd
	With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars,
	Which even now stand in act, that, for their souls,
	Another of his fathom they have none,
	To lead their business: in which regard,
	Though I do hate him as I do hell-pains.
	Yet, for necessity of present life,
	I must show out a flag and sign of love,
	Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely find him,
	Lead to the Sagittary the raised search;
	And there will I be with him. So, farewell.

	[Exit]

	[Enter, below, BRABANTIO, and Servants with torches]

BRABANTIO	It is too true an evil: gone she is;
	And what's to come of my despised time
	Is nought but bitterness. Now, Roderigo,
	Where didst thou see her? O unhappy girl!
	With the Moor, say'st thou? Who would be a father!
	How didst thou know 'twas she? O she deceives me
	Past thought! What said she to you? Get more tapers:
	Raise all my kindred. Are they married, think you?

RODERIGO	Truly, I think they are.

BRABANTIO	O heaven! How got she out? O treason of the blood!
	Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds
	By what you see them act. Is there not charms
	By which the property of youth and maidhood
	May be abused? Have you not read, Roderigo,
	Of some such thing?

RODERIGO	Yes, sir, I have indeed.

BRABANTIO	Call up my brother. O, would you had had her!
	Some one way, some another. Do you know
	Where we may apprehend her and the Moor?

RODERIGO	I think I can discover him, if you please,
	To get good guard and go along with me.

BRABANTIO	Pray you, lead on. At every house I'll call;
	I may command at most. Get weapons, ho!
	And raise some special officers of night.
	On, good Roderigo: I'll deserve your pains.

	[Exeunt]




	OTHELLO


ACT I



SCENE II	Another street.


	[Enter OTHELLO, IAGO, and Attendants with torches]

IAGO	Though in the trade of war I have slain men,
	Yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscience
	To do no contrived murder: I lack iniquity
	Sometimes to do me service: nine or ten times
	I had thought to have yerk'd him here under the ribs.

OTHELLO	'Tis better as it is.

IAGO	Nay, but he prated,

	And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms
	Against your honour
	That, with the little godliness I have,
	I did full hard forbear him. But, I pray you, sir,
	Are you fast married? Be assured of this,
	That the magnifico is much beloved,
	And hath in his effect a voice potential
	As double as the duke's: he will divorce you;
	Or put upon you what restraint and grievance
	The law, with all his might to enforce it on,
	Will give him cable.

OTHELLO	Let him do his spite:
	My services which I have done the signiory
	Shall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know,--
	Which, when I know that boasting is an honour,
	I shall promulgate--I fetch my life and being
	From men of royal siege, and my demerits
	May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune
	As this that I have reach'd: for know, Iago,
	But that I love the gentle Desdemona,
	I would not my unhoused free condition
	Put into circumscription and confine
	For the sea's worth. But, look! what lights come yond?

IAGO	Those are the raised father and his friends:
	You were best go in.

OTHELLO	Not I	I must be found:
	My parts, my title and my perfect soul
	Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they?

IAGO	By Janus, I think no.

	[Enter CASSIO, and certain Officers with torches]

OTHELLO	The servants of the duke, and my lieutenant.
	The goodness of the night upon you, friends!
	What is the news?

CASSIO	                  The duke does greet you, general,
	And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance,
	Even on the instant.

OTHELLO	What is the matter, think you?

CASSIO	Something from Cyprus as I may divine:
	It is a business of some heat: the galleys
	Have sent a dozen sequent messengers
	This very night at one another's heels,
	And many of the consuls, raised and met,
	Are at the duke's already: you have been
	hotly call'd for;
	When, being not at your lodging to be found,
	The senate hath sent about three several guests
	To search you out.

OTHELLO	'Tis well I am found by you.
	I will but spend a word here in the house,
	And go with you.

	[Exit]

CASSIO	                  Ancient, what makes he here?

IAGO	'Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land carack:
	If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever.

CASSIO	I do not understand.

IAGO	He's married.

CASSIO	To who?

	[Re-enter OTHELLO]

IAGO	Marry, to--Come, captain, will you go?

OTHELLO	Have with you.

CASSIO	Here comes another troop to seek for you.

IAGO	It is Brabantio. General, be advised;
	He comes to bad intent.

	[Enter BRABANTIO, RODERIGO, and Officers with
	torches and weapons]

OTHELLO	Holla! stand there!

RODERIGO	Signior, it is the Moor.

BRABANTIO	Down with him, thief!

	[They draw on both sides]

IAGO	You, Roderigo! come, sir, I am for you.

OTHELLO	Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them.
	Good signior, you shall more command with years
	Than with your weapons.

BRABANTIO	O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd my daughter?
	Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her;
	For I'll refer me to all things of sense,
	If she in chains of magic were not bound,
	Whether a maid so tender, fair and happy,
	So opposite to marriage that she shunned
	The wealthy curled darlings of our nation,
	Would ever have, to incur a general mock,
	Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom
	Of such a thing as thou, to fear, not to delight.
	Judge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense
	That thou hast practised on her with foul charms,
	Abused her delicate youth with drugs or minerals
	That weaken motion: I'll have't disputed on;
	'Tis probable and palpable to thinking.
	I therefore apprehend and do attach thee
	For an abuser of the world, a practiser
	Of arts inhibited and out of warrant.
	Lay hold upon him: if he do resist,
	Subdue him at his peril.

OTHELLO	Hold your hands,
	Both you of my inclining, and the rest:
	Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it
	Without a prompter. Where will you that I go
	To answer this your charge?

BRABANTIO	To prison, till fit time
	Of law and course of direct session
	Call thee to answer.

OTHELLO	What if I do obey?
	How may the duke be therewith satisfied,
	Whose messengers are here about my side,
	Upon some present business of the state
	To bring me to him?

First Officer	'Tis true, most worthy signior;
	The duke's in council and your noble self,
	I am sure, is sent for.

BRABANTIO	How! the duke in council!
	In this time of the night! Bring him away:
	Mine's not an idle cause: the duke himself,
	Or any of my brothers of the state,
	Cannot but feel this wrong as 'twere their own;
	For if such actions may have passage free,
	Bond-slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be.

	[Exeunt]




	OTHELLO


ACT I



SCENE III	A council-chamber.


	[The DUKE and Senators sitting at a table; Officers
	attending]

DUKE OF VENICE	There is no composition in these news
	That gives them credit.

First Senator	Indeed, they are disproportion'd;
	My letters say a hundred and seven galleys.

DUKE OF VENICE	And mine, a hundred and forty.

Second Senator	And mine, two hundred:
	But though they jump not on a just account,--
	As in these cases, where the aim reports,
	'Tis oft with difference--yet do they all confirm
	A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.

DUKE OF VENICE	Nay, it is possible enough to judgment:
	I do not so secure me in the error,
	But the main article I do approve
	In fearful sense.

Sailor	[Within]  What, ho! what, ho! what, ho!

First Officer	A messenger from the galleys.

	[Enter a Sailor]

DUKE OF VENICE	Now, what's the business?

Sailor	The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes;
	So was I bid report here to the state
	By Signior Angelo.

DUKE OF VENICE	How say you by this change?

First Senator	This cannot be,
	By no assay of reason: 'tis a pageant,
	To keep us in false gaze. When we consider
	The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk,
	And let ourselves again but understand,
	That as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes,
	So may he with more facile question bear it,
	For that it stands not in such warlike brace,
	But altogether lacks the abilities
	That Rhodes is dress'd in: if we make thought of this,
	We must not think the Turk is so unskilful
	To leave that latest which concerns him first,
	Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain,
	To wake and wage a danger profitless.

DUKE OF VENICE	Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes.

First Officer	Here is more news.

	[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger	The Ottomites, reverend and gracious,
	Steering with due course towards the isle of Rhodes,
	Have there injointed them with an after fleet.

First Senator	Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess?

Messenger	Of thirty sail: and now they do restem
	Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance
	Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano,
	Your trusty and most valiant servitor,
	With his free duty recommends you thus,
	And prays you to believe him.

DUKE OF VENICE	'Tis certain, then, for Cyprus.
	Marcus Luccicos, is not he in town?

First Senator	He's now in Florence.

DUKE OF VENICE	Write from us to him; post-post-haste dispatch.

First Senator	Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor.

	[Enter BRABANTIO, OTHELLO, IAGO, RODERIGO, and Officers]

DUKE OF VENICE	Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you
	Against the general enemy Ottoman.

	[To BRABANTIO]

	I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior;
	We lack'd your counsel and your help tonight.

BRABANTIO	So did I yours. Good your grace, pardon me;
	Neither my place nor aught I heard of business
	Hath raised me from my bed, nor doth the general care
	Take hold on me, for my particular grief
	Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature
	That it engluts and swallows other sorrows
	And it is still itself.

DUKE OF VENICE	Why, what's the matter?

BRABANTIO	My daughter! O, my daughter!


DUKE OF VENICE	|	Dead?
Senator	|


BRABANTIO	Ay, to me;
	She is abused, stol'n from me, and corrupted
	By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks;
	For nature so preposterously to err,
	Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,
	Sans witchcraft could not.

DUKE OF VENICE	Whoe'er he be that in this foul proceeding
	Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself
	And you of her, the bloody book of law
	You shall yourself read in the bitter letter
	After your own sense, yea, though our proper son
	Stood in your action.

BRABANTIO	Humbly I thank your grace.
	Here is the man, this Moor, whom now, it seems,
	Your special mandate for the state-affairs
	Hath hither brought.


DUKE OF VENICE	|
	|                 We are very sorry for't.
Senator	|


DUKE OF VENICE	[To OTHELLO]  What, in your own part, can you say to this?

BRABANTIO	Nothing, but this is so.

OTHELLO	Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
	My very noble and approved good masters,
	That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,
	It is most true; true, I have married her:
	The very head and front of my offending
	Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,
	And little bless'd with the soft phrase of peace:
	For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,
	Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used
	Their dearest action in the tented field,
	And little of this great world can I speak,
	More than pertains to feats of broil and battle,
	And therefore little shall I grace my cause
	In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience,
	I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver
	Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms,
	What conjuration and what mighty magic,
	For such proceeding I am charged withal,
	I won his daughter.

BRABANTIO	A maiden never bold;
	Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion
	Blush'd at herself; and she, in spite of nature,
	Of years, of country, credit, every thing,
	To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on!
	It is a judgment maim'd and most imperfect
	That will confess perfection so could err
	Against all rules of nature, and must be driven
	To find out practises of cunning hell,
	Why this should be. I therefore vouch again
	That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood,
	Or with some dram conjured to this effect,
	He wrought upon her.

DUKE OF VENICE	To vouch this, is no proof,
	Without more wider and more overt test
	Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods
	Of modern seeming do prefer against him.

First Senator	But, Othello, speak:
	Did you by indirect and forced courses
	Subdue and poison this young maid's affections?
	Or came it by request and such fair question
	As soul to soul affordeth?

OTHELLO	I do beseech you,
	Send for the lady to the Sagittary,
	And let her speak of me before her father:
	If you do find me foul in her report,
	The trust, the office I do hold of you,
	Not only take away, but let your sentence
	Even fall upon my life.

DUKE OF VENICE	Fetch Desdemona hither.

OTHELLO	Ancient, conduct them: you best know the place.

	[Exeunt IAGO and Attendants]

	And, till she come, as truly as to heaven
	I do confess the vices of my blood,
	So justly to your grave ears I'll present
	How I did thrive in this fair lady's love,
	And she in mine.

DUKE OF VENICE	Say it, Othello.

OTHELLO	Her father loved me; oft invited me;
	Still question'd me the story of my life,
	From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes,
	That I have passed.
	I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
	To the very moment that he bade me tell it;
	Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,
	Of moving accidents by flood and field
	Of hair-breadth scapes i' the imminent deadly breach,
	Of being taken by the insolent foe
	And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence
	And portance in my travels' history:
	Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle,
	Rough quarries, rocks and hills whose heads touch heaven
	It was my hint to speak,--such was the process;
	And of the Cannibals that each other eat,
	The Anthropophagi and men whose heads
	Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear
	Would Desdemona seriously incline:
	But still the house-affairs would draw her thence:
	Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
	She'ld come again, and with a greedy ear
	Devour up my discourse: which I observing,
	Took once a pliant hour, and found good means
	To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart
	That I would all my pilgrimage dilate,
	Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
	But not intentively: I did consent,
	And often did beguile her of her tears,
	When I did speak of some distressful stroke
	That my youth suffer'd. My story being done,
	She gave me for my pains a world of sighs:
	She swore, in faith, twas strange, 'twas passing strange,
	'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful:
	She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd
	That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me,
	And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,
	I should but teach him how to tell my story.
	And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake:
	She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd,
	And I loved her that she did pity them.
	This only is the witchcraft I have used:
	Here comes the lady; let her witness it.

	[Enter DESDEMONA, IAGO, and Attendants]

DUKE OF VENICE	I think this tale would win my daughter too.
	Good Brabantio,
	Take up this mangled matter at the best:
	Men do their broken weapons rather use
	Than their bare hands.

BRABANTIO	I pray you, hear her speak:
	If she confess that she was half the wooer,
	Destruction on my head, if my bad blame
	Light on the man! Come hither, gentle mistress:
	Do you perceive in all this noble company
	Where most you owe obedience?

DESDEMONA	My noble father,
	I do perceive here a divided duty:
	To you I am bound for life and education;
	My life and education both do learn me
	How to respect you; you are the lord of duty;
	I am hitherto your daughter: but here's my husband,
	And so much duty as my mother show'd
	To you, preferring you before her father,
	So much I challenge that I may profess
	Due to the Moor my lord.

BRABANTIO	God be wi' you! I have done.
	Please it your grace, on to the state-affairs:
	I had rather to adopt a child than get it.
	Come hither, Moor:
	I here do give thee that with all my heart
	Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart
	I would keep from thee. For your sake, jewel,
	I am glad at soul I have no other child:
	For thy escape would teach me tyranny,
	To hang clogs on them. I have done, my lord.

DUKE OF VENICE	Let me speak like yourself, and lay a sentence,
	Which, as a grise or step, may help these lovers
	Into your favour.
	When remedies are past, the griefs are ended
	By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.
	To mourn a mischief that is past and gone
	Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
	What cannot be preserved when fortune takes
	Patience her injury a mockery makes.
	The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief;
	He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.

BRABANTIO	So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile;
	We lose it not, so long as we can smile.
	He bears the sentence well that nothing bears
	But the free comfort which from thence he hears,
	But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow
	That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow.
	These sentences, to sugar, or to gall,
	Being strong on both sides, are equivocal:
	But words are words; I never yet did hear
	That the bruised heart was pierced through the ear.
	I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state.

DUKE OF VENICE	The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes for
	Cyprus. Othello, the fortitude of the place is best
	known to you; and though we have there a substitute
	of most allowed sufficiency, yet opinion, a
	sovereign mistress of effects, throws a more safer
	voice on you: you must therefore be content to
	slubber the gloss of your new fortunes with this
	more stubborn and boisterous expedition.

OTHELLO	The tyrant custom, most grave senators,
	Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
	My thrice-driven bed of down: I do agnise
	A natural and prompt alacrity
	I find in hardness, and do undertake
	These present wars against the Ottomites.
	Most humbly therefore bending to your state,
	I crave fit disposition for my wife.
	Due reference of place and exhibition,
	With such accommodation and besort
	As levels with her breeding.

DUKE OF VENICE	If you please,
	Be't at her father's.

BRABANTIO	I'll not have it so.

OTHELLO	Nor I.

DESDEMONA	     Nor I; I would not there reside,
	To put my father in impatient thoughts
	By being in his eye. Most gracious duke,
	To my unfolding lend your prosperous ear;
	And let me find a charter in your voice,
	To assist my simpleness.

DUKE OF VENICE	What would You, Desdemona?

DESDEMONA	That I did love the Moor to live with him,
	My downright violence and storm of fortunes
	May trumpet to the world: my heart's subdued
	Even to the very quality of my lord:
	I saw Othello's visage in his mind,
	And to his honour and his valiant parts
	Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.
	So that, dear lords, if I be left behind,
	A moth of peace, and he go to the war,
	The rites for which I love him are bereft me,
	And I a heavy interim shall support
	By his dear absence. Let me go with him.

OTHELLO	Let her have your voices.
	Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not,
	To please the palate of my appetite,
	Nor to comply with heat--the young affects
	In me defunct--and proper satisfaction.
	But to be free and bounteous to her mind:
	And heaven defend your good souls, that you think
	I will your serious and great business scant
	For she is with me: no, when light-wing'd toys
	Of feather'd Cupid seal with wanton dullness
	My speculative and officed instruments,
	That my disports corrupt and taint my business,
	Let housewives make a skillet of my helm,
	And all indign and base adversities
	Make head against my estimation!

DUKE OF VENICE	Be it as you shall privately determine,
	Either for her stay or going: the affair cries haste,
	And speed must answer it.

First Senator	You must away to-night.

OTHELLO	With all my heart.

DUKE OF VENICE	At nine i' the morning here we'll meet again.
	Othello, leave some officer behind,
	And he shall our commission bring to you;
	With such things else of quality and respect
	As doth import you.

OTHELLO	So please your grace, my ancient;
	A man he is of honest and trust:
	To his conveyance I assign my wife,
	With what else needful your good grace shall think
	To be sent after me.

DUKE OF VENICE	Let it be so.
	Good night to every one.

	[To BRABANTIO]

		   And, noble signior,
	If virtue no delighted beauty lack,
	Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.

First Senator	Adieu, brave Moor, use Desdemona well.

BRABANTIO	Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see:
	She has deceived her father, and may thee.

	[Exeunt DUKE OF VENICE, Senators, Officers, &c]

OTHELLO	My life upon her faith! Honest Iago,
	My Desdemona must I leave to thee:
	I prithee, let thy wife attend on her:
	And bring them after in the best advantage.

	Come, Desdemona: I have but an hour
	Of love, of worldly matters and direction,
	To spend with thee: we must obey the time.

	[Exeunt OTHELLO and DESDEMONA]

RODERIGO	Iago,--

IAGO	What say'st thou, noble heart?

RODERIGO	What will I do, thinkest thou?

IAGO	Why, go to bed, and sleep.

RODERIGO	I will incontinently drown myself.

IAGO	If thou dost, I shall never love thee after. Why,
	thou silly gentleman!

RODERIGO	It is silliness to live when to live is torment; and
	then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.

IAGO	O villainous! I have looked upon the world for four
	times seven years; and since I could distinguish
	betwixt a benefit and an injury, I never found man
	that knew how to love himself. Ere I would say, I
	would drown myself for the love of a guinea-hen, I
	would change my humanity with a baboon.

RODERIGO	What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so
	fond; but it is not in my virtue to amend it.

IAGO	Virtue! a fig! 'tis in ourselves that we are thus
	or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which
	our wills are gardeners: so that if we will plant
	nettles, or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up
	thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs, or
	distract it with many, either to have it sterile
	with idleness, or manured with industry, why, the
	power and corrigible authority of this lies in our
	wills. If the balance of our lives had not one
	scale of reason to poise another of sensuality, the
	blood and baseness of our natures would conduct us
	to most preposterous conclusions: but we have
	reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal
	stings, our unbitted lusts, whereof I take this that
	you call love to be a sect or scion.

RODERIGO	It cannot be.

IAGO	It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of
	the will. Come, be a man. Drown thyself! drown
	cats and blind puppies. I have professed me thy
	friend and I confess me knit to thy deserving with
	cables of perdurable toughness; I could never
	better stead thee than now. Put money in thy
	purse; follow thou the wars; defeat thy favour with
	an usurped beard; I say, put money in thy purse. It
	cannot be that Desdemona should long continue her
	love to the Moor,-- put money in thy purse,--nor he
	his to her: it was a violent commencement, and thou
	shalt see an answerable sequestration:--put but
	money in thy purse. These Moors are changeable in
	their wills: fill thy purse with money:--the food
	that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be
	to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida. She must
	change for youth: when she is sated with his body,
	she will find the error of her choice: she must
	have change, she must: therefore put money in thy
	purse. If thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a
	more delicate way than drowning. Make all the money
	thou canst: if sanctimony and a frail vow betwixt
	an erring barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian not
	too hard for my wits and all the tribe of hell, thou
	shalt enjoy her; therefore make money. A pox of
	drowning thyself! it is clean out of the way: seek
	thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy than
	to be drowned and go without her.

RODERIGO	Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on
	the issue?

IAGO	Thou art sure of me:--go, make money:--I have told
	thee often, and I re-tell thee again and again, I
	hate the Moor: my cause is hearted; thine hath no
	less reason. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge
	against him: if thou canst cuckold him, thou dost
	thyself a pleasure, me a sport. There are many
	events in the womb of time which will be delivered.
	Traverse! go, provide thy money. We will have more
	of this to-morrow. Adieu.

RODERIGO	Where shall we meet i' the morning?

IAGO	At my lodging.

RODERIGO	I'll be with thee betimes.

IAGO	Go to; farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo?

RODERIGO	What say you?

IAGO	No more of drowning, do you hear?

RODERIGO	I am changed: I'll go sell all my land.

	[Exit]

IAGO	Thus do I ever make my fool my purse:
	For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane,
	If I would time expend with such a snipe.
	But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor:
	And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets
	He has done my office: I know not if't be true;
	But I, for mere suspicion in that kind,
	Will do as if for surety. He holds me well;
	The better shall my purpose work on him.
	Cassio's a proper man: let me see now:
	To get his place and to plume up my will
	In double knavery--How, how? Let's see:--
	After some time, to abuse Othello's ear
	That he is too familiar with his wife.
	He hath a person and a smooth dispose
	To be suspected, framed to make women false.
	The Moor is of a free and open nature,
	That thinks men honest that but seem to be so,
	And will as tenderly be led by the nose
	As asses are.
	I have't. It is engender'd. Hell and night
	Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light.

	[Exit]




	OTHELLO


ACT II



SCENE I	A Sea-port in Cyprus. An open place near the quay.


	[Enter MONTANO and two Gentlemen]

MONTANO	What from the cape can you discern at sea?

First Gentleman	Nothing at all: it is a highwrought flood;
	I cannot, 'twixt the heaven and the main,
	Descry a sail.

MONTANO	Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land;
	A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements:
	If it hath ruffian'd so upon the sea,
	What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them,
	Can hold the mortise? What shall we hear of this?

Second Gentleman	A segregation of the Turkish fleet:

	For do but stand upon the foaming shore,
	The chidden billow seems to pelt the clouds;
	The wind-shaked surge, with high and monstrous mane,
	seems to cast water on the burning bear,
	And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole:
	I never did like molestation view
	On the enchafed flood.

MONTANO	If that the Turkish fleet
	Be not enshelter'd and embay'd, they are drown'd:
	It is impossible they bear it out.

	[Enter a third Gentleman]

Third Gentleman	News, lads! our wars are done.
	The desperate tempest hath so bang'd the Turks,
	That their designment halts: a noble ship of Venice
	Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance
	On most part of their fleet.

MONTANO	How! is this true?

Third Gentleman	The ship is here put in,
	A Veronesa; Michael Cassio,
	Lieutenant to the warlike Moor Othello,
	Is come on shore: the Moor himself at sea,
	And is in full commission here for Cyprus.

MONTANO	I am glad on't; 'tis a worthy governor.

Third Gentleman	But this same Cassio, though he speak of comfort
	Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly,
	And prays the Moor be safe; for they were parted
	With foul and violent tempest.

MONTANO	Pray heavens he be;
	For I have served him, and the man commands
	Like a full soldier. Let's to the seaside, ho!
	As well to see the vessel that's come in
	As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello,
	Even till we make the main and the aerial blue
	An indistinct regard.

Third Gentleman	Come, let's do so:
	For every minute is expectancy
	Of more arrivance.

	[Enter CASSIO]

CASSIO	Thanks, you the valiant of this warlike isle,
	That so approve the Moor! O, let the heavens
	Give him defence against the elements,
	For I have lost us him on a dangerous sea.

MONTANO	Is he well shipp'd?

CASSIO	His bark is stoutly timber'd, his pilot
	Of very expert and approved allowance;
	Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death,
	Stand in bold cure.

	[A cry within 'A sail, a sail, a sail!']

	[Enter a fourth Gentleman]

CASSIO	What noise?

Fourth Gentleman	The town is empty; on the brow o' the sea
	Stand ranks of people, and they cry 'A sail!'

CASSIO	My hopes do shape him for the governor.

	[Guns heard]

Second Gentlemen	They do discharge their shot of courtesy:
	Our friends at least.

CASSIO	I pray you, sir, go forth,
	And give us truth who 'tis that is arrived.

Second Gentleman	I shall.

	[Exit]

MONTANO	But, good lieutenant, is your general wived?

CASSIO	Most fortunately: he hath achieved a maid
	That paragons description and wild fame;
	One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,
	And in the essential vesture of creation
	Does tire the ingener.

	[Re-enter second Gentleman]

	How now! who has put in?

Second Gentleman	'Tis one Iago, ancient to the general.

CASSIO	Has had most favourable and happy speed:
	Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,
	The gutter'd rocks and congregated sands--
	Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel,--
	As having sense of beauty, do omit
	Their mortal natures, letting go safely by
	The divine Desdemona.

MONTANO	What is she?

CASSIO	She that I spake of, our great captain's captain,
	Left in the conduct of the bold Iago,
	Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts
	A se'nnight's speed. Great Jove, Othello guard,
	And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath,
	That he may bless this bay with his tall ship,
	Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms,
	Give renew'd fire to our extincted spirits
	And bring all Cyprus comfort!

	[Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, IAGO, RODERIGO, and
	Attendants]

		        O, behold,
	The riches of the ship is come on shore!
	Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.
	Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heaven,
	Before, behind thee, and on every hand,
	Enwheel thee round!

DESDEMONA	I thank you, valiant Cassio.
	What tidings can you tell me of my lord?

CASSIO	He is not yet arrived: nor know I aught
	But that he's well and will be shortly here.

DESDEMONA	O, but I fear--How lost you company?

CASSIO	The great contention of the sea and skies
	Parted our fellowship--But, hark! a sail.

	[Within 'A sail, a sail!' Guns heard]

Second Gentleman	They give their greeting to the citadel;
	This likewise is a friend.

CASSIO	See for the news.

	[Exit Gentleman]

	Good ancient, you are welcome.

	[To EMILIA]

		         Welcome, mistress.
	Let it not gall your patience, good Iago,
	That I extend my manners; 'tis my breeding
	That gives me this bold show of courtesy.

	[Kissing her]

IAGO	Sir, would she give you so much of her lips
	As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,
	You'll have enough.

DESDEMONA	Alas, she has no speech.

IAGO	In faith, too much;
	I find it still, when I have list to sleep:
	Marry, before your ladyship, I grant,
	She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
	And chides with thinking.

EMILIA	You have little cause to say so.

IAGO	Come on, come on; you are pictures out of doors,
	Bells in your parlors, wild-cats in your kitchens,
	Saints m your injuries, devils being offended,
	Players in your housewifery, and housewives' in your beds.

DESDEMONA	O, fie upon thee, slanderer!

IAGO	Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk:
	You rise to play and go to bed to work.

EMILIA	You shall not write my praise.

IAGO	No, let me not.

DESDEMONA	What wouldst thou write of me, if thou shouldst
	praise me?

IAGO	O gentle lady, do not put me to't;
	For I am nothing, if not critical.

DESDEMONA	Come on assay. There's one gone to the harbour?

IAGO	Ay, madam.

DESDEMONA	I am not merry; but I do beguile
	The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.
	Come, how wouldst thou praise me?

IAGO	I am about it; but indeed my invention
	Comes from my pate as birdlime does from frize;
	It plucks out brains and all: but my Muse labours,
	And thus she is deliver'd.
	If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit,
	The one's for use, the other useth it.

DESDEMONA	Well praised! How if she be black and witty?

IAGO	If she be black, and thereto have a wit,
	She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit.

DESDEMONA	Worse and worse.

EMILIA	How if fair and foolish?

IAGO	She never yet was foolish that was fair;
	For even her folly help'd her to an heir.

DESDEMONA	These are old fond paradoxes to make fools laugh i'
	the alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for
	her that's foul and foolish?

IAGO	There's none so foul and foolish thereunto,
	But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do.

DESDEMONA	O heavy ignorance! thou praisest the worst best.
	But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving
	woman indeed, one that, in the authority of her
	merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself?

IAGO	She that was ever fair and never proud,
	Had tongue at will and yet was never loud,
	Never lack'd gold and yet went never gay,
	Fled from her wish and yet said 'Now I may,'
	She that being anger'd, her revenge being nigh,
	Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly,
	She that in wisdom never was so frail
	To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail;
	She that could think and ne'er disclose her mind,
	See suitors following and not look behind,
	She was a wight, if ever such wight were,--

DESDEMONA	To do what?

IAGO	To suckle fools and chronicle small beer.

DESDEMONA	O most lame and impotent conclusion! Do not learn
	of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband. How say
	you, Cassio? is he not a most profane and liberal
	counsellor?

CASSIO	He speaks home, madam: You may relish him more in
	the soldier than in the scholar.

IAGO	[Aside]  He takes her by the palm: ay, well said,
	whisper: with as little a web as this will I
	ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon
	her, do; I will gyve thee in thine own courtship.
	You say true; 'tis so, indeed: if such tricks as
	these strip you out of your lieutenantry, it had
	been better you had not kissed your three fingers so
	oft, which now again you are most apt to play the
	sir in. Very good; well kissed! an excellent
	courtesy! 'tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers
	to your lips? would they were clyster-pipes for your sake!

	[Trumpet within]

	The Moor! I know his trumpet.

CASSIO	'Tis truly so.

DESDEMONA	Let's meet him and receive him.

CASSIO	Lo, where he comes!

	[Enter OTHELLO and Attendants]

OTHELLO	O my fair warrior!

DESDEMONA	                  My dear Othello!

OTHELLO	It gives me wonder great as my content
	To see you here before me. O my soul's joy!
	If after every tempest come such calms,
	May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!
	And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas
	Olympus-high and duck again as low
	As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die,
	'Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear,
	My soul hath her content so absolute
	That not another comfort like to this
	Succeeds in unknown fate.

DESDEMONA	The heavens forbid
	But that our loves and comforts should increase,
	Even as our days do grow!

OTHELLO	Amen to that, sweet powers!
	I cannot speak enough of this content;
	It stops me here; it is too much of joy:
	And this, and this, the greatest discords be

	[Kissing her]

	That e'er our hearts shall make!

IAGO	[Aside]  O, you are well tuned now!
	But I'll set down the pegs that make this music,
	As honest as I am.

OTHELLO	                  Come, let us to the castle.
	News, friends; our wars are done, the Turks
	are drown'd.
	How does my old acquaintance of this isle?
	Honey, you shall be well desired in Cyprus;
	I have found great love amongst them. O my sweet,
	I prattle out of fashion, and I dote
	In mine own comforts. I prithee, good Iago,
	Go to the bay and disembark my coffers:
	Bring thou the master to the citadel;
	He is a good one, and his worthiness
	Does challenge much respect. Come, Desdemona,
	Once more, well met at Cyprus.

	[Exeunt OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants]

IAGO	Do thou meet me presently at the harbour. Come
	hither. If thou be'st valiant,-- as, they say, base
	men being in love have then a nobility in their
	natures more than is native to them--list me. The
	lieutenant tonight watches on the court of
	guard:--first, I must tell thee this--Desdemona is
	directly in love with him.


RODERIGO	With him! why, 'tis not possible.

IAGO	Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul be instructed.
	Mark me with what violence she first loved the Moor,
	but for bragging and telling her fantastical lies:
	and will she love him still for prating? let not
	thy discreet heart think it. Her eye must be fed;
	and what delight shall she have to look on the
	devil? When the blood is made dull with the act of
	sport, there should be, again to inflame it and to
	give satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness in favour,
	sympathy in years, manners and beauties; all which
	the Moor is defective in: now, for want of these
	required conveniences, her delicate tenderness will
	find itself abused, begin to heave the gorge,
	disrelish and abhor the Moor; very nature will
	instruct her in it and compel her to some second
	choice. Now, sir, this granted,--as it is a most
	pregnant and unforced position--who stands so
	eminent in the degree of this fortune as Cassio
	does? a knave very voluble; no further
	conscionable than in putting on the mere form of
	civil and humane seeming, for the better compassing
	of his salt and most hidden loose affection? why,
	none; why, none: a slipper and subtle knave, a
	finder of occasions, that has an eye can stamp and
	counterfeit advantages, though true advantage never
	present itself; a devilish knave. Besides, the
	knave is handsome, young, and hath all those
	requisites in him that folly and green minds look
	after: a pestilent complete knave; and the woman
	hath found him already.

RODERIGO	I cannot believe that in her; she's full of
	most blessed condition.

IAGO	Blessed fig's-end! the wine she drinks is made of
	grapes: if she had been blessed, she would never
	have loved the Moor. Blessed pudding! Didst thou
	not see her paddle with the palm of his hand? didst
	not mark that?

RODERIGO	Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesy.

IAGO	Lechery, by this hand; an index and obscure prologue
	to the history of lust and foul thoughts. They met
	so near with their lips that their breaths embraced
	together. Villanous thoughts, Roderigo! when these
	mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand comes
	the master and main exercise, the incorporate
	conclusion, Pish! But, sir, be you ruled by me: I
	have brought you from Venice. Watch you to-night;
	for the command, I'll lay't upon you. Cassio knows
	you not. I'll not be far from you: do you find
	some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking
	too loud, or tainting his discipline; or from what
	other course you please, which the time shall more
	favourably minister.

RODERIGO	Well.

IAGO	Sir, he is rash and very sudden in choler, and haply
	may strike at you: provoke him, that he may; for
	even out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to
	mutiny; whose qualification shall come into no true
	taste again but by the displanting of Cassio. So
	shall you have a shorter journey to your desires by
	the means I shall then have to prefer them; and the
	impediment most profitably removed, without the
	which there were no expectation of our prosperity.

RODERIGO	I will do this, if I can bring it to any
	opportunity.

IAGO	I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel:
	I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewell.

RODERIGO	Adieu.

	[Exit]

IAGO	That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it;
	That she loves him, 'tis apt and of great credit:
	The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not,
	Is of a constant, loving, noble nature,
	And I dare think he'll prove to Desdemona
	A most dear husband. Now, I do love her too;
	Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure
	I stand accountant for as great a sin,
	But partly led to diet my revenge,
	For that I do suspect the lusty Moor
	Hath leap'd into my seat; the thought whereof
	Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards;
	And nothing can or shall content my soul
	Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife,
	Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor
	At least into a jealousy so strong
	That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do,
	If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash
	For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,
	I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip,
	Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb--
	For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too--
	Make the Moor thank me, love me and reward me.
	For making him egregiously an ass
	And practising upon his peace and quiet
	Even to madness. 'Tis here, but yet confused:
	Knavery's plain face is never seen tin used.

	[Exit]




	OTHELLO


ACT II



SCENE II	A street.


	[Enter a Herald with a proclamation; People
	following]

Herald	It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and valiant
	general, that, upon certain tidings now arrived,
	importing the mere perdition of the Turkish fleet,
	every man put himself into triumph; some to dance,
	some to make bonfires, each man to what sport and
	revels his addiction leads him: for, besides these
	beneficial news, it is the celebration of his
	nuptial. So much was his pleasure should be
	proclaimed. All offices are open, and there is full
	liberty of feasting from this present hour of five
	till the bell have told eleven. Heaven bless the
	isle of Cyprus and our noble general Othello!

	[Exeunt]




	OTHELLO


ACT II



SCENE III	A hall in the castle.


	[Enter OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and Attendants]

OTHELLO	Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night:
	Let's teach ourselves that honourable stop,
	Not to outsport discretion.

CASSIO	Iago hath direction what to do;
	But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye
	Will I look to't.

OTHELLO	                  Iago is most honest.
	Michael, good night: to-morrow with your earliest
	Let me have speech with you.

	[To DESDEMONA]

		       Come, my dear love,
	The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue;
	That profit's yet to come 'tween me and you.
	Good night.

	[Exeunt OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants]

	[Enter IAGO]

CASSIO	Welcome, Iago; we must to the watch.

IAGO	Not this hour, lieutenant; 'tis not yet ten o' the
	clock. Our general cast us thus early for the love
	of his Desdemona; who let us not therefore blame:
	he hath not yet made wanton the night with her; and
	she is sport for Jove.

CASSIO	She's a most exquisite lady.

IAGO	And, I'll warrant her, fun of game.

CASSIO	Indeed, she's a most fresh and delicate creature.

IAGO	What an eye she has! methinks it sounds a parley of
	provocation.

CASSIO	An inviting eye; and yet methinks right modest.

IAGO	And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love?

CASSIO	She is indeed perfection.

IAGO	Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, lieutenant, I
	have a stoup of wine; and here without are a brace
	of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure to
	the health of black Othello.

CASSIO	Not to-night, good Iago: I have very poor and
	unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish
	courtesy would invent some other custom of
	entertainment.

IAGO	O, they are our friends; but one cup: I'll drink for
	you.

CASSIO	I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that was
	craftily qualified too, and, behold, what innovation
	it makes here: I am unfortunate in the infirmity,
	and dare not task my weakness with any more.

IAGO	What, man! 'tis a night of revels: the gallants
	desire it.

CASSIO	Where are they?

IAGO	Here at the door; I pray you, call them in.

CASSIO	I'll do't; but it dislikes me.

	[Exit]

IAGO	If I can fasten but one cup upon him,
	With that which he hath drunk to-night already,
	He'll be as full of quarrel and offence
	As my young mistress' dog. Now, my sick fool Roderigo,
	Whom love hath turn'd almost the wrong side out,
	To Desdemona hath to-night caroused
	Potations pottle-deep; and he's to watch:
	Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits,
	That hold their honours in a wary distance,
	The very elements of this warlike isle,
	Have I to-night fluster'd with flowing cups,
	And they watch too. Now, 'mongst this flock of drunkards,
	Am I to put our Cassio in some action
	That may offend the isle.--But here they come:
	If consequence do but approve my dream,
	My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.

	[Re-enter CASSIO; with him MONTANO and Gentlemen;
	servants following with wine]

CASSIO	'Fore God, they have given me a rouse already.

MONTANO	Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I am
	a soldier.

IAGO	Some wine, ho!

	[Sings]

	And let me the canakin clink, clink;
	And let me the canakin clink
	A soldier's a man;
	A life's but a span;
	Why, then, let a soldier drink.
	Some wine, boys!

CASSIO	'Fore God, an excellent song.

IAGO	I learned it in England, where, indeed, they are
	most potent in potting: your Dane, your German, and
	your swag-bellied Hollander--Drink, ho!--are nothing
	to your English.

CASSIO	Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking?

IAGO	Why, he drinks you, with facility, your Dane dead
	drunk; he sweats not to overthrow your Almain; he
	gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle
	can be filled.

CASSIO	To the health of our general!

MONTANO	I am for it, lieutenant; and I'll do you justice.

IAGO	O sweet England!
	King Stephen was a worthy peer,
	His breeches cost him but a crown;
	He held them sixpence all too dear,
	With that he call'd the tailor lown.
	He was a wight of high renown,
	And thou art but of low degree:
	'Tis pride that pulls the country down;
	Then take thine auld cloak about thee.
	Some wine, ho!

CASSIO	Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other.

IAGO	Will you hear't again?

CASSIO	No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that
	does those things. Well, God's above all; and there
	be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.

IAGO	It's true, good lieutenant.

CASSIO	For mine own part,--no offence to the general, nor
	any man of quality,--I hope to be saved.

IAGO	And so do I too, lieutenant.

CASSIO	Ay, but, by your leave, not before me; the
	lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. Let's
	have no more of this; let's to our affairs.--Forgive
	us our sins!--Gentlemen, let's look to our business.
	Do not think, gentlemen. I am drunk: this is my
	ancient; this is my right hand, and this is my left:
	I am not drunk now; I can stand well enough, and
	speak well enough.

All	Excellent well.

CASSIO	Why, very well then; you must not think then that I am drunk.

	[Exit]

MONTANO	To the platform, masters; come, let's set the watch.

IAGO	You see this fellow that is gone before;
	He is a soldier fit to stand by Caesar
	And give direction: and do but see his vice;
	'Tis to his virtue a just equinox,
	The one as long as the other: 'tis pity of him.
	I fear the trust Othello puts him in.
	On some odd time of his infirmity,
	Will shake this island.

MONTANO	But is he often thus?

IAGO	'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep:
	He'll watch the horologe a double set,
	If drink rock not his cradle.

MONTANO	It were well
	The general were put in mind of it.
	Perhaps he sees it not; or his good nature
	Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio,
	And looks not on his evils: is not this true?

	[Enter RODERIGO]

IAGO	[Aside to him]  How now, Roderigo!
	I pray you, after the lieutenant; go.

	[Exit RODERIGO]

MONTANO	And 'tis great pity that the noble Moor
	Should hazard such a place as his own second
	With one of an ingraft infirmity:
	It were an honest action to say
	So to the Moor.

IAGO	                  Not I, for this fair island:
	I do love Cassio well; and would do much
	To cure him of this evil--But, hark! what noise?

	[Cry within: 'Help! help!']

	[Re-enter CASSIO, driving in RODERIGO]

CASSIO	You rogue! you rascal!

MONTANO	What's the matter, lieutenant?

CASSIO	A knave teach me my duty!
	I'll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle.

RODERIGO	Beat me!

CASSIO	       Dost thou prate, rogue?

	[Striking RODERIGO]

MONTANO	Nay, good lieutenant;

	[Staying him]

	I pray you, sir, hold your hand.

CASSIO	Let me go, sir,
	Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard.

MONTANO	Come, come,
		                  you're drunk.

CASSIO	Drunk!

	[They fight]

IAGO	[Aside to RODERIGO]  Away, I say; go out, and cry a mutiny.

	[Exit RODERIGO]

	Nay, good lieutenant,--alas, gentlemen;--
	Help, ho!--Lieutenant,--sir,--Montano,--sir;
	Help, masters!--Here's a goodly watch indeed!

	[Bell rings]

	Who's that which rings the bell?--Diablo, ho!
	The town will rise: God's will, lieutenant, hold!
	You will be shamed for ever.

	[Re-enter OTHELLO and Attendants]

OTHELLO	What is the matter here?

MONTANO	'Zounds, I bleed still; I am hurt to the death.

	[Faints]

OTHELLO	Hold, for your lives!

IAGO	Hold, ho! Lieutenant,--sir--Montano,--gentlemen,--
	Have you forgot all sense of place and duty?
	Hold! the general speaks to you; hold, hold, for shame!

OTHELLO	Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth this?
	Are we turn'd Turks, and to ourselves do that
	Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites?
	For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl:
	He that stirs next to carve for his own rage
	Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion.
	Silence that dreadful bell: it frights the isle
	From her propriety. What is the matter, masters?
	Honest Iago, that look'st dead with grieving,
	Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee.

IAGO	I do not know: friends all but now, even now,
	In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom
	Devesting them for bed; and then, but now--
	As if some planet had unwitted men--
	Swords out, and tilting one at other's breast,
	In opposition bloody. I cannot speak
	Any beginning to this peevish odds;
	And would in action glorious I had lost
	Those legs that brought me to a part of it!

OTHELLO	How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot?

CASSIO	I pray you, pardon me; I cannot speak.

OTHELLO	Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil;
	The gravity and stillness of your youth
	The world hath noted, and your name is great
	In mouths of wisest censure: what's the matter,
	That you unlace your reputation thus
	And spend your rich opinion for the name
	Of a night-brawler? give me answer to it.

MONTANO	Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger:
	Your officer, Iago, can inform you,--
	While I spare speech, which something now
	offends me,--
	Of all that I do know: nor know I aught
	By me that's said or done amiss this night;
	Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice,
	And to defend ourselves it be a sin
	When violence assails us.

OTHELLO	Now, by heaven,
	My blood begins my safer guides to rule;
	And passion, having my best judgment collied,
	Assays to lead the way: if I once stir,
	Or do but lift this arm, the best of you
	Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know
	How this foul rout began, who set it on;
	And he that is approved in this offence,
	Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth,
	Shall lose me. What! in a town of war,
	Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear,
	To manage private and domestic quarrel,
	In night, and on the court and guard of safety!
	'Tis monstrous. Iago, who began't?

MONTANO	If partially affined, or leagued in office,
	Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,
	Thou art no soldier.

IAGO	Touch me not so near:
	I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth
	Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio;
	Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth
	Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general.
	Montano and myself being in speech,
	There comes a fellow crying out for help:
	And Cassio following him with determined sword,
	To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman
	Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause:
	Myself the crying fellow did pursue,
	Lest by his clamour--as it so fell out--
	The town might fall in fright: he, swift of foot,
	Outran my purpose; and I return'd the rather
	For that I heard the clink and fall of swords,
	And Cassio high in oath; which till to-night
	I ne'er might say before. When I came back--
	For this was brief--I found them close together,
	At blow and thrust; even as again they were
	When you yourself did part them.
	More of this matter cannot I report:
	But men are men; the best sometimes forget:
	Though Cassio did some little wrong to him,
	As men in rage strike those that wish them best,
	Yet surely Cassio, I believe, received
	From him that fled some strange indignity,
	Which patience could not pass.

OTHELLO	I know, Iago,
	Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter,
	Making it light to Cassio. Cassio, I love thee
	But never more be officer of mine.

	[Re-enter DESDEMONA, attended]

	Look, if my gentle love be not raised up!
	I'll make thee an example.

DESDEMONA	What's the matter?

OTHELLO	All's well now, sweeting; come away to bed.
	Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon:
	Lead him off.

	[To MONTANO, who is led off]

	Iago, look with care about the town,
	And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted.
	Come, Desdemona: 'tis the soldiers' life
	To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife.

	[Exeunt all but IAGO and CASSIO]

IAGO	What, are you hurt, lieutenant?

CASSIO	Ay, past all surgery.

IAGO	Marry, heaven forbid!

CASSIO	Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost
	my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of
	myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation,
	Iago, my reputation!

IAGO	As I am an honest man, I thought you had received
	some bodily wound; there is more sense in that than
	in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false
	imposition: oft got without merit, and lost without
	deserving: you have lost no reputation at all,
	unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, man!
	there are ways to recover the general again: you
	are but now cast in his mood, a punishment more in
	policy than in malice, even so as one would beat his
	offenceless dog to affright an imperious lion: sue
	to him again, and he's yours.

CASSIO	I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so
	good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so
	indiscreet an officer. Drunk? and speak parrot?
	and squabble? swagger? swear? and discourse
	fustian with one's own shadow? O thou invisible
	spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by,
	let us call thee devil!

IAGO	What was he that you followed with your sword? What
	had he done to you?

CASSIO	I know not.

IAGO	Is't possible?

CASSIO	I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly;
	a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O God, that men
	should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away
	their brains! that we should, with joy, pleasance
	revel and applause, transform ourselves into beasts!

IAGO	Why, but you are now well enough: how came you thus
	recovered?

CASSIO	It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place
	to the devil wrath; one unperfectness shows me
	another, to make me frankly despise myself.

IAGO	Come, you are too severe a moraler: as the time,
	the place, and the condition of this country
	stands, I could heartily wish this had not befallen;
	but, since it is as it is, mend it for your own good.

CASSIO	I will ask him for my place again; he shall tell me
	I am a drunkard! Had I as many mouths as Hydra,
	such an answer would stop them all. To be now a
	sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a
	beast! O strange! Every inordinate cup is
	unblessed and the ingredient is a devil.

IAGO	Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature,
	if it be well used: exclaim no more against it.
	And, good lieutenant, I think you think I love you.

CASSIO	I have well approved it, sir. I drunk!

IAGO	You or any man living may be drunk! at a time, man.
	I'll tell you what you shall do. Our general's wife
	is now the general: may say so in this respect, for
	that he hath devoted and given up himself to the
	contemplation, mark, and denotement of her parts and
	graces: confess yourself freely to her; importune
	her help to put you in your place again: she is of
	so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition,
	she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more
	than she is requested: this broken joint between
	you and her husband entreat her to splinter; and, my
	fortunes against any lay worth naming, this
	crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before.

CASSIO	You advise me well.

IAGO	I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest kindness.

CASSIO	I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I will
	beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me:
	I am desperate of my fortunes if they cheque me here.

IAGO	You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant; I
	must to the watch.

CASSIO: Good night, honest Iago.

	[Exit]

IAGO	And what's he then that says I play the villain?
	When this advice is free I give and honest,
	Probal to thinking and indeed the course
	To win the Moor again? For 'tis most easy
	The inclining Desdemona to subdue
	In any honest suit: she's framed as fruitful
	As the free elements. And then for her
	To win the Moor--were't to renounce his baptism,
	All seals and symbols of redeemed sin,
	His soul is so enfetter'd to her love,
	That she may make, unmake, do what she list,
	Even as her appetite shall play the god
	With his weak function. How am I then a villain
	To counsel Cassio to this parallel course,
	Directly to his good? Divinity of hell!
	When devils will the blackest sins put on,
	They do suggest at first with heavenly shows,
	As I do now: for whiles this honest fool
	Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes
	And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,
	I'll pour this pestilence into his ear,
	That she repeals him for her body's lust;
	And by how much she strives to do him good,
	She shall undo her credit with the Moor.
	So will I turn her virtue into pitch,
	And out of her own goodness make the net
	That shall enmesh them all.

	[Re-enter RODERIGO]

		      How now, Roderigo!

RODERIGO	I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound that
	hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My money is
	almost spent; I have been to-night exceedingly well
	cudgelled; and I think the issue will be, I shall
	have so much experience for my pains, and so, with
	no money at all and a little more wit, return again to Venice.

IAGO	How poor are they that have not patience!
	What wound did ever heal but by degrees?
	Thou know'st we work by wit, and not by witchcraft;
	And wit depends on dilatory time.
	Does't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee.
	And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashier'd Cassio:
	Though other things grow fair against the sun,
	Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe:
	Content thyself awhile. By the mass, 'tis morning;
	Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
	Retire thee; go where thou art billeted:
	Away, I say; thou shalt know more hereafter:
	Nay, get thee gone.

	[Exit RODERIGO]

	Two things are to be done:
	My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress;
	I'll set her on;
	Myself the while to draw the Moor apart,
	And bring him jump when he may Cassio find
	Soliciting his wife: ay, that's the way
	Dull not device by coldness and delay.

	[Exit]




	OTHELLO


ACT III



SCENE I	Before the castle.


	[Enter CASSIO and some Musicians]

CASSIO	Masters, play here; I will content your pains;
	Something that's brief; and bid 'Good morrow, general.'

	[Music]

	[Enter Clown]

Clown	Why masters, have your instruments been in Naples,
	that they speak i' the nose thus?

First Musician	How, sir, how!

Clown	Are these, I pray you, wind-instruments?

First Musician	Ay, marry, are they, sir.

Clown	O, thereby hangs a tail.

First Musician	Whereby hangs a tale, sir?

Clown	Marry. sir, by many a wind-instrument that I know.
	But, masters, here's money for you: and the general
	so likes your music, that he desires you, for love's
	sake, to make no more noise with it.

First Musician	Well, sir, we will not.

Clown	If you have any music that may not be heard, to't
	again: but, as they say to hear music the general
	does not greatly care.

First Musician	We have none such, sir.

Clown	Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I'll away:
	go; vanish into air; away!

	[Exeunt Musicians]

CASSIO	Dost thou hear, my honest friend?

Clown	No, I hear not your honest friend; I hear you.

CASSIO	Prithee, keep up thy quillets. There's a poor piece
	of gold for thee: if the gentlewoman that attends
	the general's wife be stirring, tell her there's
	one Cassio entreats her a little favour of speech:
	wilt thou do this?

Clown	She is stirring, sir: if she will stir hither, I
	shall seem to notify unto her.

CASSIO	Do, good my friend.

	[Exit Clown]

	[Enter IAGO]

	In happy time, Iago.

IAGO	You have not been a-bed, then?

CASSIO	Why, no; the day had broke
	Before we parted. I have made bold, Iago,
	To send in to your wife: my suit to her
	Is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona
	Procure me some access.

IAGO	I'll send her to you presently;
	And I'll devise a mean to draw the Moor
	Out of the way, that your converse and business
	May be more free.

CASSIO	I humbly thank you for't.

	[Exit IAGO]

		    I never knew
	A Florentine more kind and honest.

	[Enter EMILIA]

EMILIA	Good morrow, good Lieutenant: I am sorry
	For your displeasure; but all will sure be well.
	The general and his wife are talking of it;
	And she speaks for you stoutly: the Moor replies,
	That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus,
	And great affinity, and that in wholesome wisdom
	He might not but refuse you; but he protests he loves you
	And needs no other suitor but his likings
	To take the safest occasion by the front
	To bring you in again.

CASSIO	Yet, I beseech you,
	If you think fit, or that it may be done,
	Give me advantage of some brief discourse
	With Desdemona alone.

EMILIA	Pray you, come in;
	I will bestow you where you shall have time
	To speak your bosom freely.

CASSIO	I am much bound to you.

	[Exeunt]




	OTHELLO


ACT III



SCENE II	A room in the castle.


	[Enter OTHELLO, IAGO, and Gentlemen]

OTHELLO	These letters give, Iago, to the pilot;
	And by him do my duties to the senate:
	That done, I will be walking on the works;
	Repair there to me.

IAGO	Well, my good lord, I'll do't.

OTHELLO	This fortification, gentlemen, shall we see't?

Gentleman	We'll wait upon your lordship.

	[Exeunt]




	OTHELLO


ACT III



SCENE III	The garden of the castle.


	[Enter DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and EMILIA]

DESDEMONA	Be thou assured, good Cassio, I will do
	All my abilities in thy behalf.

EMILIA	Good madam, do: I warrant it grieves my husband,
	As if the case were his.

DESDEMONA	O, that's an honest fellow. Do not doubt, Cassio,
	But I will have my lord and you again
	As friendly as you were.

CASSIO	Bounteous madam,
	Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio,
	He's never any thing but your true servant.

DESDEMONA	I know't; I thank you. You do love my lord:
	You have known him long; and be you well assured
	He shall in strangeness stand no further off
	Than in a polite distance.

CASSIO	Ay, but, lady,
	That policy may either last so long,
	Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet,
	Or breed itself so out of circumstance,
	That, I being absent and my place supplied,
	My general will forget my love and service.

DESDEMONA	Do not doubt that; before Emilia here
	I give thee warrant of thy place: assure thee,
	If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it
	To the last article: my lord shall never rest;
	I'll watch him tame and talk him out of patience;
	His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift;
	I'll intermingle every thing he does
	With Cassio's suit: therefore be merry, Cassio;
	For thy solicitor shall rather die
	Than give thy cause away.

EMILIA	Madam, here comes my lord.

CASSIO	Madam, I'll take my leave.

DESDEMONA	Why, stay, and hear me speak.

CASSIO	Madam, not now: I am very ill at ease,
	Unfit for mine own purposes.

DESDEMONA	Well, do your discretion.

	[Exit CASSIO]

	[Enter OTHELLO and IAGO]

IAGO	Ha! I like not that.

OTHELLO	What dost thou say?

IAGO	Nothing, my lord: or if--I know not what.

OTHELLO	Was not that Cassio parted from my wife?

IAGO	Cassio, my lord! No, sure, I cannot think it,
	That he would steal away so guilty-like,
	Seeing you coming.

OTHELLO	                  I do believe 'twas he.

DESDEMONA	How now, my lord!
	I have been talking with a suitor here,
	A man that languishes in your displeasure.

OTHELLO	Who is't you mean?

DESDEMONA	Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord,
	If I have any grace or power to move you,
	His present reconciliation take;
	For if he be not one that truly loves you,
	That errs in ignorance and not in cunning,
	I have no judgment in an honest face:
	I prithee, call him back.

OTHELLO	Went he hence now?

DESDEMONA	Ay, sooth; so humbled
	That he hath left part of his grief with me,
	To suffer with him. Good love, call him back.

OTHELLO	Not now, sweet Desdemona; some other time.

DESDEMONA	But shall't be shortly?

OTHELLO	The sooner, sweet, for you.

DESDEMONA	Shall't be to-night at supper?

OTHELLO	No, not to-night.

DESDEMONA	To-morrow dinner, then?

OTHELLO	I shall not dine at home;
	I meet the captains at the citadel.

DESDEMONA	Why, then, to-morrow night; or Tuesday morn;
	On Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesday morn:
	I prithee, name the time, but let it not
	Exceed three days: in faith, he's penitent;
	And yet his trespass, in our common reason--
	Save that, they say, the wars must make examples
	Out of their best--is not almost a fault
	To incur a private cheque. When shall he come?
	Tell me, Othello: I wonder in my soul,
	What you would ask me, that I should deny,
	Or stand so mammering on. What! Michael Cassio,
	That came a-wooing with you, and so many a time,
	When I have spoke of you dispraisingly,
	Hath ta'en your part; to have so much to do
	To bring him in! Trust me, I could do much,--

OTHELLO	Prithee, no more: let him come when he will;
	I will deny thee nothing.

DESDEMONA	Why, this is not a boon;
	'Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves,
	Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm,
	Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit
	To your own person: nay, when I have a suit
	Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed,
	It shall be full of poise and difficult weight
	And fearful to be granted.

OTHELLO	I will deny thee nothing:
	Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,
	To leave me but a little to myself.

DESDEMONA	Shall I deny you? no: farewell, my lord.

OTHELLO	Farewell, my Desdemona: I'll come to thee straight.

DESDEMONA	Emilia, come. Be as your fancies teach you;
	Whate'er you be, I am obedient.

	[Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA]

OTHELLO	Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul,
	But I do love thee! and when I love thee not,
	Chaos is come again.

IAGO	My noble lord--

OTHELLO	                  What dost thou say, Iago?

IAGO	Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my lady,
	Know of your love?

OTHELLO	He did, from first to last: why dost thou ask?

IAGO	But for a satisfaction of my thought;
	No further harm.

OTHELLO	                  Why of thy thought, Iago?

IAGO	I did not think he had been acquainted with her.

OTHELLO	O, yes; and went between us very oft.

IAGO	Indeed!

OTHELLO	Indeed! ay, indeed: discern'st thou aught in that?
	Is he not honest?

IAGO	Honest, my lord!

OTHELLO	                  Honest! ay, honest.

IAGO	My lord, for aught I know.

OTHELLO	What dost thou think?

IAGO	Think, my lord!

OTHELLO	Think, my lord!
	By heaven, he echoes me,
	As if there were some monster in his thought
	Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something:
	I heard thee say even now, thou likedst not that,
	When Cassio left my wife: what didst not like?
	And when I told thee he was of my counsel
	In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst 'Indeed!'
	And didst contract and purse thy brow together,
	As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain
	Some horrible conceit: if thou dost love me,
	Show me thy thought.

IAGO	My lord, you know I love you.

OTHELLO	I think thou dost;
	And, for I know thou'rt full of love and honesty,
	And weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath,
	Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more:
	For such things in a false disloyal knave
	Are tricks of custom, but in a man that's just
	They are close delations, working from the heart
	That passion cannot rule.

IAGO	For Michael Cassio,
	I dare be sworn I think that he is honest.

OTHELLO	I think so too.

IAGO	                  Men should be what they seem;
	Or those that be not, would they might seem none!

OTHELLO	Certain, men should be what they seem.

IAGO	Why, then, I think Cassio's an honest man.

OTHELLO	Nay, yet there's more in this:
	I prithee, speak to me as to thy thinkings,
	As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts
	The worst of words.

IAGO	Good my lord, pardon me:
	Though I am bound to every act of duty,
	I am not bound to that all slaves are free to.
	Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile and false;
	As where's that palace whereinto foul things
	Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pure,
	But some uncleanly apprehensions
	Keep leets and law-days and in session sit
	With meditations lawful?

OTHELLO	Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago,
	If thou but think'st him wrong'd and makest his ear
	A stranger to thy thoughts.

IAGO	I do beseech you--
	Though I perchance am vicious in my guess,
	As, I confess, it is my nature's plague
	To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy
	Shapes faults that are not--that your wisdom yet,
	From one that so imperfectly conceits,
	Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble
	Out of his scattering and unsure observance.
	It were not for your quiet nor your good,
	Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom,
	To let you know my thoughts.

OTHELLO	What dost thou mean?

IAGO	Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
	Is the immediate jewel of their souls:
	Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
	'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands:
	But he that filches from me my good name
	Robs me of that which not enriches him
	And makes me poor indeed.

OTHELLO	By heaven, I'll know thy thoughts.

IAGO	You cannot, if my heart were in your hand;
	Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody.

OTHELLO	Ha!

IAGO	O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;
	It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock
	The meat it feeds on; that cuckold lives in bliss
	Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;
	But, O, what damned minutes tells he o'er
	Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves!

OTHELLO	O misery!

IAGO	Poor and content is rich and rich enough,
	But riches fineless is as poor as winter
	To him that ever fears he shall be poor.
	Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend
	From jealousy!

OTHELLO	                  Why, why is this?
	Think'st thou I'ld make a lie of jealousy,
	To follow still the changes of the moon
	With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt
	Is once to be resolved: exchange me for a goat,
	When I shall turn the business of my soul
	To such exsufflicate and blown surmises,
	Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me jealous
	To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company,
	Is free of speech, sings, plays and dances well;
	Where virtue is, these are more virtuous:
	Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
	The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt;
	For she had eyes, and chose me. No, Iago;
	I'll see before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;
	And on the proof, there is no more but this,--
	Away at once with love or jealousy!

IAGO	I am glad of it; for now I shall have reason
	To show the love and duty that I bear you
	With franker spirit: therefore, as I am bound,
	Receive it from me. I speak not yet of proof.
	Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio;
	Wear your eye thus, not jealous nor secure:
	I would not have your free and noble nature,
	Out of self-bounty, be abused; look to't:
	I know our country disposition well;
	In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks
	They dare not show their husbands; their best conscience
	Is not to leave't undone, but keep't unknown.

OTHELLO	Dost thou say so?

IAGO	She did deceive her father, marrying you;
	And when she seem'd to shake and fear your looks,
	She loved them most.

OTHELLO	And so she did.

IAGO	Why, go to then;
	She that, so young, could give out such a seeming,
	To seal her father's eyes up close as oak-
	He thought 'twas witchcraft--but I am much to blame;
	I humbly do beseech you of your pardon
	For too much loving you.

OTHELLO	I am bound to thee for ever.

IAGO	I see this hath a little dash'd your spirits.

OTHELLO	Not a jot, not a jot.

IAGO	I' faith, I fear it has.
	I hope you will consider what is spoke
	Comes from my love. But I do see you're moved:
	I am to pray you not to strain my speech
	To grosser issues nor to larger reach
	Than to suspicion.

OTHELLO	I will not.

IAGO	          Should you do so, my lord,
	My speech should fall into such vile success
	As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio's my worthy friend--
	My lord, I see you're moved.

OTHELLO	No, not much moved:
	I do not think but Desdemona's honest.

IAGO	Long live she so! and long live you to think so!

OTHELLO	And yet, how nature erring from itself,--

IAGO	Ay, there's the point: as--to be bold with you--
	Not to affect many proposed matches
	Of her own clime, complexion, and degree,
	Whereto we see in all things nature tends--
	Foh! one may smell in such a will most rank,
	Foul disproportion thoughts unnatural.
	But pardon me; I do not in position
	Distinctly speak of her; though I may fear
	Her will, recoiling to her better judgment,
	May fall to match you with her country forms
	And happily repent.

OTHELLO	Farewell, farewell:
	If more thou dost perceive, let me know more;
	Set on thy wife to observe: leave me, Iago:

IAGO	[Going]  My lord, I take my leave.

OTHELLO	Why did I marry? This honest creature doubtless
	Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.

IAGO	[Returning]  My lord, I would I might entreat
	your honour
	To scan this thing no further; leave it to time:
	Though it be fit that Cassio have his place,
	For sure, he fills it up with great ability,
	Yet, if you please to hold him off awhile,
	You shall by that perceive him and his means:
	Note, if your lady strain his entertainment
	With any strong or vehement importunity;
	Much will be seen in that. In the mean time,
	Let me be thought too busy in my fears--
	As worthy cause I have to fear I am--
	And hold her free, I do beseech your honour.

OTHELLO	Fear not my government.

IAGO	I once more take my leave.

	[Exit]

OTHELLO	This fellow's of exceeding honesty,
	And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit,
	Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard,
	Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings,
	I'ld whistle her off and let her down the wind,
	To pray at fortune. Haply, for I am black
	And have not those soft parts of conversation
	That chamberers have, or for I am declined
	Into the vale of years,--yet that's not much--
	She's gone. I am abused; and my relief
	Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage,
	That we can call these delicate creatures ours,
	And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad,
	And live upon the vapour of a dungeon,
	Than keep a corner in the thing I love
	For others' uses. Yet, 'tis the plague of great ones;
	Prerogatived are they less than the base;
	'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death:
	Even then this forked plague is fated to us
	When we do quicken. Desdemona comes:

	[Re-enter DESDEMONA and EMILIA]

	If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself!
	I'll not believe't.

DESDEMONA	How now, my dear Othello!
	Your dinner, and the generous islanders
	By you invited, do attend your presence.

OTHELLO	I am to blame.

DESDEMONA	                  Why do you speak so faintly?
	Are you not well?

OTHELLO	I have a pain upon my forehead here.

DESDEMONA	'Faith, that's with watching; 'twill away again:
	Let me but bind it hard, within this hour
	It will be well.

OTHELLO	                  Your napkin is too little:

	[He puts the handkerchief from him; and it drops]

	Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you.

DESDEMONA	I am very sorry that you are not well.

	[Exeunt OTHELLO and DESDEMONA]

EMILIA	I am glad I have found this napkin:
	This was her first remembrance from the Moor:
	My wayward husband hath a hundred times
	Woo'd me to steal it; but she so loves the token,
	For he conjured her she should ever keep it,
	That she reserves it evermore about her
	To kiss and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out,
	And give't Iago: what he will do with it
	Heaven knows, not I;
	I nothing but to please his fantasy.

	[Re-enter Iago]

IAGO	How now! what do you here alone?

EMILIA	Do not you chide; I have a thing for you.

IAGO	A thing for me? it is a common thing--

EMILIA	Ha!

IAGO	To have a foolish wife.

EMILIA	O, is that all? What will you give me now
	For the same handkerchief?

IAGO	What handkerchief?

EMILIA	What handkerchief?
	Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona;
	That which so often you did bid me steal.

IAGO	Hast stol'n it from her?

EMILIA	No, 'faith; she let it drop by negligence.
	And, to the advantage, I, being here, took't up.
	Look, here it is.

IAGO	                  A good wench; give it me.

EMILIA	What will you do with 't, that you have been
	so earnest
	To have me filch it?

IAGO	[Snatching it]  Why, what's that to you?

EMILIA	If it be not for some purpose of import,
	Give't me again: poor lady, she'll run mad
	When she shall lack it.

IAGO	Be not acknown on 't; I have use for it.
	Go, leave me.

	[Exit EMILIA]

	I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin,
	And let him find it. Trifles light as air
	Are to the jealous confirmations strong
	As proofs of holy writ: this may do something.
	The Moor already changes with my poison:
	Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons.
	Which at the first are scarce found to distaste,
	But with a little act upon the blood.
	Burn like the mines of Sulphur. I did say so:
	Look, where he comes!

	[Re-enter OTHELLO]

		Not poppy, nor mandragora,
	Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
	Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
	Which thou owedst yesterday.

OTHELLO	Ha! ha! false to me?

IAGO	Why, how now, general! no more of that.

OTHELLO	Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the rack:
	I swear 'tis better to be much abused
	Than but to know't a little.

IAGO	How now, my lord!

OTHELLO	What sense had I of her stol'n hours of lust?
	I saw't not, thought it not, it harm'd not me:
	I slept the next night well, was free and merry;
	I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips:
	He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stol'n,
	Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all.

IAGO	I am sorry to hear this.

OTHELLO	I had been happy, if the general camp,
	Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body,
	So I had nothing known. O, now, for ever
	Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content!
	Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars,
	That make ambition virtue! O, farewell!
	Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,
	The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,
	The royal banner, and all quality,
	Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war!
	And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats
	The immortal Jove's dead clamours counterfeit,
	Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone!

IAGO	Is't possible, my lord?

OTHELLO	Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore,
	Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof:
	Or by the worth of man's eternal soul,
	Thou hadst been better have been born a dog
	Than answer my waked wrath!

IAGO	Is't come to this?

OTHELLO	Make me to see't; or, at the least, so prove it,
	That the probation bear no hinge nor loop
	To hang a doubt on; or woe upon thy life!

IAGO	My noble lord,--

OTHELLO	If thou dost slander her and torture me,
	Never pray more; abandon all remorse;
	On horror's head horrors accumulate;
	Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed;
	For nothing canst thou to damnation add
	Greater than that.

IAGO	                  O grace! O heaven forgive me!
	Are you a man? have you a soul or sense?
	God be wi' you; take mine office. O wretched fool.
	That livest to make thine honesty a vice!
	O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world,
	To be direct and honest is not safe.
	I thank you for this profit; and from hence
	I'll love no friend, sith love breeds such offence.

OTHELLO	Nay, stay: thou shouldst be honest.

IAGO	I should be wise, for honesty's a fool
	And loses that it works for.

OTHELLO	By the world,
	I think my wife be honest and think she is not;
	I think that thou art just and think thou art not.
	I'll have some proof. Her name, that was as fresh
	As Dian's visage, is now begrimed and black
	As mine own face. If there be cords, or knives,
	Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams,
	I'll not endure it. Would I were satisfied!

IAGO	I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion:
	I do repent me that I put it to you.
	You would be satisfied?

OTHELLO	Would! nay, I will.

IAGO	And may: but, how? how satisfied, my lord?
	Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on--
	Behold her topp'd?

OTHELLO	                  Death and damnation! O!

IAGO	It were a tedious difficulty, I think,
	To bring them to that prospect: damn them then,
	If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster
	More than their own! What then? how then?
	What shall I say? Where's satisfaction?
	It is impossible you should see this,
	Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys,
	As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross
	As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say,
	If imputation and strong circumstances,
	Which lead directly to the door of truth,
	Will give you satisfaction, you may have't.

OTHELLO	Give me a living reason she's disloyal.

IAGO	I do not like the office:
	But, sith I am enter'd in this cause so far,
	Prick'd to't by foolish honesty and love,
	I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately;
	And, being troubled with a raging tooth,
	I could not sleep.
	There are a kind of men so loose of soul,
	That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs:
	One of this kind is Cassio:
	In sleep I heard him say 'Sweet Desdemona,
	Let us be wary, let us hide our loves;'
	And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand,
	Cry 'O sweet creature!' and then kiss me hard,
	As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots
	That grew upon my lips: then laid his leg
	Over my thigh, and sigh'd, and kiss'd; and then
	Cried 'Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!'

OTHELLO	O monstrous! monstrous!

IAGO	Nay, this was but his dream.

OTHELLO	But this denoted a foregone conclusion:
	'Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream.

IAGO	And this may help to thicken other proofs
	That do demonstrate thinly.

OTHELLO	I'll tear her all to pieces.

IAGO	Nay, but be wise: yet we see nothing done;
	She may be honest yet. Tell me but this,
	Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief
	Spotted with strawberries in your wife's hand?

OTHELLO	I gave her such a one; 'twas my first gift.

IAGO	I know not that; but such a handkerchief--
	I am sure it was your wife's--did I to-day
	See Cassio wipe his beard with.

OTHELLO	If it be that--

IAGO	If it be that, or any that was hers,
	It speaks against her with the other proofs.

OTHELLO	O, that the slave had forty thousand lives!
	One is too poor, too weak for my revenge.
	Now do I see 'tis true. Look here, Iago;
	All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven.
	'Tis gone.
	Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell!
	Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne
	To tyrannous hate! Swell, bosom, with thy fraught,
	For 'tis of aspics' tongues!

IAGO	Yet be content.

OTHELLO	O, blood, blood, blood!

IAGO	Patience, I say; your mind perhaps may change.

OTHELLO	Never, Iago: Like to the Pontic sea,
	Whose icy current and compulsive course
	Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on
	To the Propontic and the Hellespont,
	Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace,
	Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love,
	Till that a capable and wide revenge
	Swallow them up. Now, by yond marble heaven,

	[Kneels]

	In the due reverence of a sacred vow
	I here engage my words.

IAGO	Do not rise yet.

	[Kneels]

	Witness, you ever-burning lights above,
	You elements that clip us round about,
	Witness that here Iago doth give up
	The execution of his wit, hands, heart,
	To wrong'd Othello's service! Let him command,
	And to obey shall be in me remorse,
	What bloody business ever.

	[They rise]

OTHELLO	I greet thy love,
	Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous,
	And will upon the instant put thee to't:
	Within these three days let me hear thee say
	That Cassio's not alive.

IAGO	My friend is dead; 'tis done at your request:
	But let her live.

OTHELLO	Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her!
	Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw,
	To furnish me with some swift means of death
	For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant.

IAGO	I am your own for ever.

	[Exeunt]



	OTHELLO


ACT III



SCENE IV	Before the castle.


	[Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, and Clown]

DESDEMONA	Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lies?

Clown	I dare not say he lies any where.

DESDEMONA	Why, man?

Clown	He's a soldier, and for one to say a soldier lies,
	is stabbing.

DESDEMONA	Go to: where lodges he?

Clown	To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you where I lie.

DESDEMONA	Can any thing be made of this?

Clown	I know not where he lodges, and for me to devise a
	lodging and say he lies here or he lies there, were
	to lie in mine own throat.

DESDEMONA	Can you inquire him out, and be edified by report?

Clown	I will catechise the world for him; that is, make
	questions, and by them answer.

DESDEMONA	Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him I have
	moved my lord on his behalf, and hope all will be well.

Clown	To do this is within the compass of man's wit: and
	therefore I will attempt the doing it.

	[Exit]

DESDEMONA	Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia?

EMILIA	I know not, madam.

DESDEMONA	Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse
	Full of crusadoes: and, but my noble Moor
	Is true of mind and made of no such baseness
	As jealous creatures are, it were enough
	To put him to ill thinking.

EMILIA	Is he not jealous?

DESDEMONA	Who, he? I think the sun where he was born
	Drew all such humours from him.

EMILIA	Look, where he comes.

DESDEMONA	I will not leave him now till Cassio
	Be call'd to him.

	[Enter OTHELLO]

	How is't with you, my lord

OTHELLO	Well, my good lady.

	[Aside]

	O, hardness to dissemble!--
	How do you, Desdemona?

DESDEMONA	Well, my good lord.

OTHELLO	Give me your hand: this hand is moist, my lady.

DESDEMONA	It yet hath felt no age nor known no sorrow.

OTHELLO	This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart:
	Hot, hot, and moist: this hand of yours requires
	A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer,
	Much castigation, exercise devout;
	For here's a young and sweating devil here,
	That commonly rebels. 'Tis a good hand,
	A frank one.

DESDEMONA	                  You may, indeed, say so;
	For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.

OTHELLO	A liberal hand: the hearts of old gave hands;
	But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts.

DESDEMONA	I cannot speak of this. Come now, your promise.

OTHELLO	What promise, chuck?

DESDEMONA	I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.

OTHELLO	I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me;
	Lend me thy handkerchief.

DESDEMONA	Here, my lord.

OTHELLO	That which I gave you.

DESDEMONA	I have it not about me.

OTHELLO	Not?

DESDEMONA	   No, indeed, my lord.

OTHELLO	That is a fault.

	That handkerchief
	Did an Egyptian to my mother give;
	She was a charmer, and could almost read
	The thoughts of people: she told her, while
	she kept it,
	'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father
	Entirely to her love, but if she lost it
	Or made gift of it, my father's eye
	Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt
	After new fancies: she, dying, gave it me;
	And bid me, when my fate would have me wive,
	To give it her. I did so: and take heed on't;
	Make it a darling like your precious eye;
	To lose't or give't away were such perdition
	As nothing else could match.

DESDEMONA	Is't possible?

OTHELLO	'Tis true: there's magic in the web of it:
	A sibyl, that had number'd in the world
	The sun to course two hundred compasses,
	In her prophetic fury sew'd the work;
	The worms were hallow'd that did breed the silk;
	And it was dyed in mummy which the skilful
	Conserved of maidens' hearts.

DESDEMONA	Indeed! is't true?

OTHELLO	Most veritable; therefore look to't well.

DESDEMONA	Then would to God that I had never seen't!

OTHELLO	Ha! wherefore?

DESDEMONA	Why do you speak so startingly and rash?

OTHELLO	Is't lost? is't gone? speak, is it out
	o' the way?

DESDEMONA	Heaven bless us!

OTHELLO	Say you?

DESDEMONA	It is not lost; but what an if it were?

OTHELLO	How!

DESDEMONA	I say, it is not lost.

OTHELLO	Fetch't, let me see't.

DESDEMONA	Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now.
	This is a trick to put me from my suit:
	Pray you, let Cassio be received again.

OTHELLO	Fetch me the handkerchief: my mind misgives.

DESDEMONA	Come, come;
	You'll never meet a more sufficient man.

OTHELLO	The handkerchief!

DESDEMONA	                  I pray, talk me of Cassio.

OTHELLO	The handkerchief!

DESDEMONA	                  A man that all his time
	Hath founded his good fortunes on your love,
	Shared dangers with you,--

OTHELLO	The handkerchief!

DESDEMONA	In sooth, you are to blame.

OTHELLO	Away!

	[Exit]

EMILIA	Is not this man jealous?

DESDEMONA	I ne'er saw this before.
	Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief:
	I am most unhappy in the loss of it.

EMILIA	'Tis not a year or two shows us a man:
	They are all but stomachs, and we all but food;
	To eat us hungerly, and when they are full,
	They belch us. Look you, Cassio and my husband!

	[Enter CASSIO and IAGO]

IAGO	There is no other way; 'tis she must do't:
	And, lo, the happiness! go, and importune her.

DESDEMONA	How now, good Cassio! what's the news with you?

CASSIO	Madam, my former suit: I do beseech you
	That by your virtuous means I may again
	Exist, and be a member of his love
	Whom I with all the office of my heart
	Entirely honour: I would not be delay'd.
	If my offence be of such mortal kind
	That nor my service past, nor present sorrows,
	Nor purposed merit in futurity,
	Can ransom me into his love again,
	But to know so must be my benefit;
	So shall I clothe me in a forced content,
	And shut myself up in some other course,
	To fortune's alms.

DESDEMONA	                  Alas, thrice-gentle Cassio!
	My advocation is not now in tune;
	My lord is not my lord; nor should I know him,
	Were he in favour as in humour alter'd.
	So help me every spirit sanctified,
	As I have spoken for you all my best
	And stood within the blank of his displeasure
	For my free speech! you must awhile be patient:
	What I can do I will; and more I will
	Than for myself I dare: let that suffice you.

IAGO	Is my lord angry?

EMILIA	                  He went hence but now,
	And certainly in strange unquietness.

IAGO	Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon,
	When it hath blown his ranks into the air,
	And, like the devil, from his very arm
	Puff'd his own brother:--and can he be angry?
	Something of moment then: I will go meet him:
	There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.

DESDEMONA	I prithee, do so.

	[Exit IAGO]

	Something, sure, of state,
	Either from Venice, or some unhatch'd practise
	Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him,
	Hath puddled his clear spirit: and in such cases
	Men's natures wrangle with inferior things,
	Though great ones are their object. 'Tis even so;
	For let our finger ache, and it indues
	Our other healthful members even to that sense
	Of pain: nay, we must think men are not gods,
	Nor of them look for such observances
	As fit the bridal. Beshrew me much, Emilia,
	I was, unhandsome warrior as I am,
	Arraigning his unkindness with my soul;
	But now I find I had suborn'd the witness,
	And he's indicted falsely.

EMILIA	Pray heaven it be state-matters, as you think,
	And no conception nor no jealous toy
	Concerning you.

DESDEMONA	Alas the day! I never gave him cause.

EMILIA	But jealous souls will not be answer'd so;
	They are not ever jealous for the cause,
	But jealous for they are jealous: 'tis a monster
	Begot upon itself, born on itself.

DESDEMONA	Heaven keep that monster from Othello's mind!

EMILIA	Lady, amen.

DESDEMONA	I will go seek him. Cassio, walk hereabout:
	If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit
	And seek to effect it to my uttermost.

CASSIO	I humbly thank your ladyship.

	[Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA]

	[Enter BIANCA]

BIANCA	Save you, friend Cassio!

CASSIO	What make you from home?
	How is it with you, my most fair Bianca?
	I' faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house.

BIANCA	And I was going to your lodging, Cassio.
	What, keep a week away? seven days and nights?
	Eight score eight hours? and lovers' absent hours,
	More tedious than the dial eight score times?
	O weary reckoning!

CASSIO	                  Pardon me, Bianca:
	I have this while with leaden thoughts been press'd:
	But I shall, in a more continuate time,
	Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca,

	[Giving her DESDEMONA's handkerchief]

	Take me this work out.

BIANCA	O Cassio, whence came this?
	This is some token from a newer friend:
	To the felt absence now I feel a cause:
	Is't come to this? Well, well.

CASSIO	Go to, woman!
	Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth,
	From whence you have them. You are jealous now
	That this is from some mistress, some remembrance:
	No, in good troth, Bianca.

BIANCA	Why, whose is it?

CASSIO	I know not, sweet: I found it in my chamber.
	I like the work well: ere it be demanded--
	As like enough it will--I'ld have it copied:
	Take it, and do't; and leave me for this time.

BIANCA	Leave you! wherefore?

CASSIO	I do attend here on the general;
	And think it no addition, nor my wish,
	To have him see me woman'd.

BIANCA	Why, I pray you?

CASSIO	Not that I love you not.

BIANCA	But that you do not love me.
	I pray you, bring me on the way a little,
	And say if I shall see you soon at night.

CASSIO	'Tis but a little way that I can bring you;
	For I attend here: but I'll see you soon.

BIANCA	'Tis very good; I must be circumstanced.

	[Exeunt]




	OTHELLO


ACT IV



SCENE I	Cyprus. Before the castle.


	[Enter OTHELLO and IAGO]

IAGO	Will you think so?

OTHELLO	                  Think so, Iago!

IAGO	What,
	To kiss in private?

OTHELLO	An unauthorized kiss.

IAGO	Or to be naked with her friend in bed
	An hour or more, not meaning any harm?

OTHELLO	Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm!
	It is hypocrisy against the devil:
	They that mean virtuously, and yet do so,
	The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heaven.

IAGO	So they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip:
	But if I give my wife a handkerchief,--

OTHELLO	What then?

IAGO	Why, then, 'tis hers, my lord; and, being hers,
	She may, I think, bestow't on any man.

OTHELLO	She is protectress of her honour too:
	May she give that?

IAGO	Her honour is an essence that's not seen;
	They have it very oft that have it not:
	But, for the handkerchief,--

OTHELLO	By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it.
	Thou said'st, it comes o'er my memory,
	As doth the raven o'er the infected house,
	Boding to all--he had my handkerchief.

IAGO	Ay, what of that?

OTHELLO	                  That's not so good now.

IAGO	What,
	If I had said I had seen him do you wrong?
	Or heard him say,--as knaves be such abroad,
	Who having, by their own importunate suit,
	Or voluntary dotage of some mistress,
	Convinced or supplied them, cannot choose
	But they must blab--

OTHELLO	Hath he said any thing?

IAGO	He hath, my lord; but be you well assured,
	No more than he'll unswear.

OTHELLO	What hath he said?

IAGO	'Faith, that he did--I know not what he did.

OTHELLO	What? what?

IAGO	Lie--

OTHELLO	    With her?

IAGO	With her, on her; what you will.

OTHELLO	Lie with her! lie on her! We say lie on her, when
	they belie her. Lie with her! that's fulsome.
	--Handkerchief--confessions--handkerchief!--To
	confess, and be hanged for his labour;--first, to be
	hanged, and then to confess.--I tremble at it.
	Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing
	passion without some instruction. It is not words
	that shake me thus. Pish! Noses, ears, and lips.
	--Is't possible?--Confess--handkerchief!--O devil!--

	[Falls in a trance]

IAGO	Work on,
	My medicine, work! Thus credulous fools are caught;
	And many worthy and chaste dames even thus,
	All guiltless, meet reproach. What, ho! my lord!
	My lord, I say! Othello!

	[Enter CASSIO]

		    How now, Cassio!

CASSIO	What's the matter?

IAGO	My lord is fall'n into an epilepsy:
	This is his second fit; he had one yesterday.

CASSIO	Rub him about the temples.

IAGO	No, forbear;
	The lethargy must have his quiet course:
	If not, he foams at mouth and by and by
	Breaks out to savage madness. Look he stirs:
	Do you withdraw yourself a little while,
	He will recover straight: when he is gone,
	I would on great occasion speak with you.

	[Exit CASSIO]

	How is it, general? have you not hurt your head?

OTHELLO	Dost thou mock me?

IAGO	                  I mock you! no, by heaven.
	Would you would bear your fortune like a man!

OTHELLO	A horned man's a monster and a beast.

IAGO	There's many a beast then in a populous city,
	And many a civil monster.

OTHELLO	Did he confess it?

IAGO	                  Good sir, be a man;
	Think every bearded fellow that's but yoked
	May draw with you: there's millions now alive
	That nightly lie in those unproper beds
	Which they dare swear peculiar: your case is better.
	O, 'tis the spite of hell, the fiend's arch-mock,
	To lip a wanton in a secure couch,
	And to suppose her chaste! No, let me know;
	And knowing what I am, I know what she shall be.

OTHELLO	O, thou art wise; 'tis certain.

IAGO	Stand you awhile apart;
	Confine yourself but in a patient list.
	Whilst you were here o'erwhelmed with your grief--
	A passion most unsuiting such a man--
	Cassio came hither: I shifted him away,
	And laid good 'scuse upon your ecstasy,
	Bade him anon return and here speak with me;
	The which he promised. Do but encave yourself,
	And mark the fleers, the gibes, and notable scorns,
	That dwell in every region of his face;
	For I will make him tell the tale anew,
	Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when
	He hath, and is again to cope your wife:
	I say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience;
	Or I shall say you are all in all in spleen,
	And nothing of a man.

OTHELLO	Dost thou hear, Iago?
	I will be found most cunning in my patience;
	But--dost thou hear?--most bloody.

IAGO	That's not amiss;
	But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw?

	[OTHELLO retires]

	Now will I question Cassio of Bianca,
	A housewife that by selling her desires
	Buys herself bread and clothes: it is a creature
	That dotes on Cassio; as 'tis the strumpet's plague
	To beguile many and be beguiled by one:
	He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain
	From the excess of laughter. Here he comes:

	[Re-enter CASSIO]

	As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad;
	And his unbookish jealousy must construe
	Poor Cassio's smiles, gestures and light behavior,
	Quite in the wrong. How do you now, lieutenant?

CASSIO	The worser that you give me the addition
	Whose want even kills me.

IAGO	Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't.

	[Speaking lower]

	Now, if this suit lay in Bianco's power,
	How quickly should you speed!

CASSIO	Alas, poor caitiff!

OTHELLO	Look, how he laughs already!

IAGO	I never knew woman love man so.

CASSIO	Alas, poor rogue! I think, i' faith, she loves me.

OTHELLO	Now he denies it faintly, and laughs it out.

IAGO	Do you hear, Cassio?

OTHELLO	Now he importunes him
	To tell it o'er: go to; well said, well said.

IAGO	She gives it out that you shall marry hey:
	Do you intend it?

CASSIO	Ha, ha, ha!

OTHELLO	Do you triumph, Roman? do you triumph?

CASSIO	I marry her! what? a customer! Prithee, bear some
	charity to my wit: do not think it so unwholesome.
	Ha, ha, ha!

OTHELLO	So, so, so, so: they laugh that win.

IAGO	'Faith, the cry goes that you shall marry her.

CASSIO	Prithee, say true.

IAGO	I am a very villain else.

OTHELLO	Have you scored me? Well.

CASSIO	This is the monkey's own giving out: she is
	persuaded I will marry her, out of her own love and
	flattery, not out of my promise.

OTHELLO	Iago beckons me; now he begins the story.

CASSIO	She was here even now; she haunts me in every place.
	I was the other day talking on the sea-bank with
	certain Venetians; and thither comes the bauble,
	and, by this hand, she falls me thus about my neck--

OTHELLO	Crying 'O dear Cassio!' as it were: his gesture
	imports it.

CASSIO	So hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon me; so hales,
	and pulls me: ha, ha, ha!

OTHELLO	Now he tells how she plucked him to my chamber. O,
	I see that nose of yours, but not that dog I shall
	throw it to.

CASSIO	Well, I must leave her company.

IAGO	Before me! look, where she comes.

CASSIO	'Tis such another fitchew! marry a perfumed one.

	[Enter BIANCA]

	What do you mean by this haunting of me?

BIANCA	Let the devil and his dam haunt you! What did you
	mean by that same handkerchief you gave me even now?
	I was a fine fool to take it. I must take out the
	work?--A likely piece of work, that you should find
	it in your chamber, and not know who left it there!
	This is some minx's token, and I must take out the
	work? There; give it your hobby-horse: wheresoever
	you had it, I'll take out no work on't.

CASSIO	How now, my sweet Bianca! how now! how now!

OTHELLO	By heaven, that should be my handkerchief!

BIANCA	An you'll come to supper to-night, you may; an you
	will not, come when you are next prepared for.

	[Exit]

IAGO	After her, after her.

CASSIO	'Faith, I must; she'll rail in the street else.

IAGO	Will you sup there?

CASSIO	'Faith, I intend so.

IAGO	Well, I may chance to see you; for I would very fain
	speak with you.

CASSIO	Prithee, come; will you?

IAGO	Go to; say no more.

	[Exit CASSIO]

OTHELLO	[Advancing]  How shall I murder him, Iago?

IAGO	Did you perceive how he laughed at his vice?

OTHELLO	O Iago!

IAGO	And did you see the handkerchief?

OTHELLO	Was that mine?

IAGO	Yours by this hand: and to see how he prizes the
	foolish woman your wife! she gave it him, and he
	hath given it his whore.

OTHELLO	I would have him nine years a-killing.
	A fine woman! a fair woman! a sweet woman!

IAGO	Nay, you must forget that.

OTHELLO	Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned to-night;
	for she shall not live: no, my heart is turned to
	stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand. O, the
	world hath not a sweeter creature: she might lie by
	an emperor's side and command him tasks.

IAGO	Nay, that's not your way.

OTHELLO	Hang her! I do but say what she is: so delicate
	with her needle: an admirable musician: O! she
	will sing the savageness out of a bear: of so high
	and plenteous wit and invention:--

IAGO	She's the worse for all this.

OTHELLO	O, a thousand thousand times: and then, of so
	gentle a condition!

IAGO	Ay, too gentle.

OTHELLO	Nay, that's certain: but yet the pity of it, Iago!
	O Iago, the pity of it, Iago!

IAGO	If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her
	patent to offend; for, if it touch not you, it comes
	near nobody.

OTHELLO	I will chop her into messes: cuckold me!

IAGO	O, 'tis foul in her.

OTHELLO	With mine officer!

IAGO	That's fouler.

OTHELLO	Get me some poison, Iago; this night: I'll not
	expostulate with her, lest her body and beauty
	unprovide my mind again: this night, Iago.

IAGO	Do it not with poison, strangle her in her bed, even
	the bed she hath contaminated.

OTHELLO	Good, good: the justice of it pleases: very good.

IAGO	And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker: you
	shall hear more by midnight.

OTHELLO	Excellent good.

	[A trumpet within]

	What trumpet is that same?

IAGO	Something from Venice, sure. 'Tis Lodovico
	Come from the duke: and, see, your wife is with him.

	[Enter LODOVICO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants]

LODOVICO	Save you, worthy general!

OTHELLO	With all my heart, sir.

LODOVICO	The duke and senators of Venice greet you.

	[Gives him a letter]

OTHELLO	I kiss the instrument of their pleasures.

	[Opens the letter, and reads]

DESDEMONA	And what's the news, good cousin Lodovico?

IAGO	I am very glad to see you, signior
	Welcome to Cyprus.

LODOVICO	I thank you. How does Lieutenant Cassio?

IAGO	Lives, sir.

DESDEMONA	Cousin, there's fall'n between him and my lord
	An unkind breach: but you shall make all well.

OTHELLO	Are you sure of that?

DESDEMONA	My lord?

OTHELLO	[Reads]  'This fail you not to do, as you will--'

LODOVICO	He did not call; he's busy in the paper.
	Is there division 'twixt my lord and Cassio?

DESDEMONA	A most unhappy one: I would do much
	To atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio.

OTHELLO	Fire and brimstone!

DESDEMONA	My lord?

OTHELLO	       Are you wise?

DESDEMONA	What, is he angry?

LODOVICO	                  May be the letter moved him;
	For, as I think, they do command him home,
	Deputing Cassio in his government.

DESDEMONA	Trust me, I am glad on't.

OTHELLO	Indeed!

DESDEMONA	My lord?

OTHELLO	I am glad to see you mad.

DESDEMONA	Why, sweet Othello,--

OTHELLO	[Striking her]  Devil!

DESDEMONA	I have not deserved this.

LODOVICO	My lord, this would not be believed in Venice,
	Though I should swear I saw't: 'tis very much:
	Make her amends; she weeps.

OTHELLO	O devil, devil!
	If that the earth could teem with woman's tears,
	Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.
	Out of my sight!

DESDEMONA	I will not stay to offend you.

	[Going]

LODOVICO	Truly, an obedient lady:
	I do beseech your lordship, call her back.

OTHELLO	Mistress!

DESDEMONA	        My lord?

OTHELLO	What would you with her, sir?

LODOVICO	Who, I, my lord?

OTHELLO	Ay; you did wish that I would make her turn:
	Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on,
	And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep;
	And she's obedient, as you say, obedient,
	Very obedient. Proceed you in your tears.
	Concerning this, sir,--O  well-painted passion!--
	I am commanded home. Get you away;
	I'll send for you anon. Sir, I obey the mandate,
	And will return to Venice. Hence, avaunt!

	[Exit DESDEMONA]

	Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, tonight,
	I do entreat that we may sup together:
	You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus.--Goats and monkeys!

	[Exit]

LODOVICO	Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate
	Call all in all sufficient? Is this the nature
	Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue
	The shot of accident, nor dart of chance,
	Could neither graze nor pierce?

IAGO	He is much changed.

LODOVICO	Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain?

IAGO	He's that he is: I may not breathe my censure
	What he might be: if what he might he is not,
	I would to heaven he were!

LODOVICO	What, strike his wife!

IAGO	'Faith, that was not so well; yet would I knew
	That stroke would prove the worst!

LODOVICO	Is it his use?
	Or did the letters work upon his blood,
	And new-create this fault?

IAGO	Alas, alas!
	It is not honesty in me to speak
	What I have seen and known. You shall observe him,
	And his own courses will denote him so
	That I may save my speech: do but go after,
	And mark how he continues.

LODOVICO	I am sorry that I am deceived in him.

	[Exeunt]




	OTHELLO


ACT IV


SCENE II	A room in the castle.


	[Enter OTHELLO and EMILIA]

OTHELLO	You have seen nothing then?

EMILIA	Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect.

OTHELLO	Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together.

EMILIA	But then I saw no harm, and then I heard
	Each syllable that breath made up between them.

OTHELLO	What, did they never whisper?

EMILIA	Never, my lord.

OTHELLO	Nor send you out o' the way?

EMILIA	Never.

OTHELLO	To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing?

EMILIA	Never, my lord.

OTHELLO	That's strange.

EMILIA	I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest,
	Lay down my soul at stake: if you think other,
	Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom.
	If any wretch have put this in your head,
	Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse!
	For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true,
	There's no man happy; the purest of their wives
	Is foul as slander.

OTHELLO	Bid her come hither: go.

	[Exit EMILIA]

	She says enough; yet she's a simple bawd
	That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore,
	A closet lock and key of villanous secrets
	And yet she'll kneel and pray; I have seen her do't.

	[Enter DESDEMONA with EMILIA]

DESDEMONA	My lord, what is your will?

OTHELLO	Pray, chuck, come hither.

DESDEMONA	What is your pleasure?

OTHELLO	Let me see your eyes;
	Look in my face.

DESDEMONA	                  What horrible fancy's this?

OTHELLO	[To EMILIA]  Some of your function, mistress;
	Leave procreants alone and shut the door;
	Cough, or cry 'hem,' if any body come:
	Your mystery, your mystery: nay, dispatch.

	[Exit EMILIA]

DESDEMONA	Upon my knees, what doth your speech import?
	I understand a fury in your words.
	But not the words.

OTHELLO	Why, what art thou?

DESDEMONA	Your wife, my lord; your true
	And loyal wife.

OTHELLO	                  Come, swear it, damn thyself
	Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves
	Should fear to seize thee: therefore be double damn'd:
	Swear thou art honest.

DESDEMONA	Heaven doth truly know it.

OTHELLO	Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell.

DESDEMONA	To whom, my lord? with whom? how am I false?

OTHELLO	O Desdemona! away! away! away!

DESDEMONA	Alas the heavy day! Why do you weep?
	Am I the motive of these tears, my lord?
	If haply you my father do suspect
	An instrument of this your calling back,
	Lay not your blame on me: If you have lost him,
	Why, I have lost him too.

OTHELLO	Had it pleased heaven
	To try me with affliction; had they rain'd
	All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head.
	Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips,
	Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes,
	I should have found in some place of my soul
	A drop of patience: but, alas, to make me
	A fixed figure for the time of scorn
	To point his slow unmoving finger at!
	Yet could I bear that too; well, very well:
	But there, where I have garner'd up my heart,
	Where either I must live, or bear no life;
	The fountain from the which my current runs,
	Or else dries up; to be discarded thence!
	Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads
	To knot and gender in! Turn thy complexion there,
	Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin,--
	Ay, there, look grim as hell!

DESDEMONA	I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.

OTHELLO	O, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles,
	That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed,
	Who art so lovely fair and smell'st so sweet
	That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst
	ne'er been born!

DESDEMONA	Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?

OTHELLO	Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,
	Made to write 'whore' upon? What committed!
	Committed! O thou public commoner!
	I should make very forges of my cheeks,
	That would to cinders burn up modesty,
	Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed!
	Heaven stops the nose at it and the moon winks,
	The bawdy wind that kisses all it meets
	Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth,
	And will not hear it. What committed!
	Impudent strumpet!

DESDEMONA	                  By heaven, you do me wrong.

OTHELLO	Are you not a strumpet?

DESDEMONA	No, as I am a Christian:
	If to preserve this vessel for my lord
	From any other foul unlawful touch
	Be not to be a strumpet, I am none.

OTHELLO	What, not a whore?

DESDEMONA	                  No, as I shall be saved.

OTHELLO	Is't possible?

DESDEMONA	                  O, heaven forgive us!

OTHELLO	I cry you mercy, then:
	I took you for that cunning whore of Venice
	That married with Othello.

	[Raising his voice]

		     You, mistress,
	That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,
	And keep the gate of hell!

	[Re-enter EMILIA]

		     You, you, ay, you!
	We have done our course; there's money for your pains:
	I pray you, turn the key and keep our counsel.

	[Exit]

EMILIA	Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?
	How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady?

DESDEMONA	'Faith, half asleep.

EMILIA	Good madam, what's the matter with my lord?

DESDEMONA	With who?

EMILIA	Why, with my lord, madam.

DESDEMONA	Who is thy lord?

EMILIA	                  He that is yours, sweet lady.

DESDEMONA	I have none: do not talk to me, Emilia;
	I cannot weep; nor answer have I none,
	But what should go by water. Prithee, tonight
	Lay on my bed my wedding sheets: remember;
	And call thy husband hither.

EMILIA	Here's a change indeed!

	[Exit]

DESDEMONA	'Tis meet I should be used so, very meet.
	How have I been behaved, that he might stick
	The small'st opinion on my least misuse?

	[Re-enter EMILIA with IAGO]

IAGO	What is your pleasure, madam?
	How is't with you?

DESDEMONA	I cannot tell. Those that do teach young babes
	Do it with gentle means and easy tasks:
	He might have chid me so; for, in good faith,
	I am a child to chiding.

IAGO	What's the matter, lady?

EMILIA	Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhored her.
	Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her,
	As true hearts cannot bear.

DESDEMONA	Am I that name, Iago?

IAGO	What name, fair lady?

DESDEMONA	Such as she says my lord did say I was.

EMILIA	He call'd her whore: a beggar in his drink
	Could not have laid such terms upon his callat.

IAGO	Why did he so?

DESDEMONA	I do not know; I am sure I am none such.

IAGO	Do not weep, do not weep. Alas the day!

EMILIA	Hath she forsook so many noble matches,
	Her father and her country and her friends,
	To be call'd whore? would it not make one weep?

DESDEMONA	It is my wretched fortune.

IAGO	Beshrew him for't!
	How comes this trick upon him?

DESDEMONA	Nay, heaven doth know.

EMILIA	I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain,
	Some busy and insinuating rogue,
	Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office,
	Have not devised this slander; I'll be hang'd else.

IAGO	Fie, there is no such man; it is impossible.

DESDEMONA	If any such there be, heaven pardon him!

EMILIA	A halter pardon him! and hell gnaw his bones!
	Why should he call her whore? who keeps her company?
	What place? what time? what form? what likelihood?
	The Moor's abused by some most villanous knave,
	Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow.
	O heaven, that such companions thou'ldst unfold,
	And put in every honest hand a whip
	To lash the rascals naked through the world
	Even from the east to the west!

IAGO	Speak within door.

EMILIA	O, fie upon them! Some such squire he was
	That turn'd your wit the seamy side without,
	And made you to suspect me with the Moor.

IAGO	You are a fool; go to.

DESDEMONA	O good Iago,
	What shall I do to win my lord again?
	Good friend, go to him; for, by this light of heaven,
	I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel:
	If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love,
	Either in discourse of thought or actual deed,
	Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense,
	Delighted them in any other form;
	Or that I do not yet, and ever did.
	And ever will--though he do shake me off
	To beggarly divorcement--love him dearly,
	Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do much;
	And his unkindness may defeat my life,
	But never taint my love. I cannot say 'whore:'
	It does abhor me now I speak the word;
	To do the act that might the addition earn
	Not the world's mass of vanity could make me.

IAGO	I pray you, be content; 'tis but his humour:
	The business of the state does him offence,
	And he does chide with you.

DESDEMONA	If 'twere no other--

IAGO	'Tis but so, I warrant.

	[Trumpets within]

	Hark, how these instruments summon to supper!
	The messengers of Venice stay the meat;
	Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well.

	[Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA]

	[Enter RODERIGO]

	How now, Roderigo!

RODERIGO	I do not find that thou dealest justly with me.

IAGO	What in the contrary?

RODERIGO	Every day thou daffest me with some device, Iago;
	and rather, as it seems to me now, keepest from me
	all conveniency than suppliest me with the least
	advantage of hope. I will indeed no longer endure
	it, nor am I yet persuaded to put up in peace what
	already I have foolishly suffered.

IAGO	Will you hear me, Roderigo?

RODERIGO	'Faith, I have heard too much, for your words and
	performances are no kin together.

IAGO	You charge me most unjustly.

RODERIGO	With nought but truth. I have wasted myself out of
	my means. The jewels you have had from me to
	deliver to Desdemona would half have corrupted a
	votarist: you have told me she hath received them
	and returned me expectations and comforts of sudden
	respect and acquaintance, but I find none.

IAGO	Well; go to; very well.

RODERIGO	Very well! go to! I cannot go to, man; nor 'tis
	not very well: nay, I think it is scurvy, and begin
	to find myself fobbed in it.

IAGO	Very well.

RODERIGO	I tell you 'tis not very well. I will make myself
	known to Desdemona: if she will return me my
	jewels, I will give over my suit and repent my
	unlawful solicitation; if not, assure yourself I
	will seek satisfaction of you.

IAGO	You have said now.

RODERIGO	Ay, and said nothing but what I protest intendment of doing.

IAGO	Why, now I see there's mettle in thee, and even from
	this instant to build on thee a better opinion than
	ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo: thou hast
	taken against me a most just exception; but yet, I
	protest, I have dealt most directly in thy affair.

RODERIGO	It hath not appeared.

IAGO	I grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your
	suspicion is not without wit and judgment. But,
	Roderigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed, which I
	have greater reason to believe now than ever, I mean
	purpose, courage and valour, this night show it: if
	thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona,
	take me from this world with treachery and devise
	engines for my life.

RODERIGO	Well, what is it? is it within reason and compass?

IAGO	Sir, there is especial commission come from Venice
	to depute Cassio in Othello's place.

RODERIGO	Is that true? why, then Othello and Desdemona
	return again to Venice.

IAGO	O, no; he goes into Mauritania and takes away with
	him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode be
	lingered here by some accident: wherein none can be
	so determinate as the removing of Cassio.

RODERIGO	How do you mean, removing of him?

IAGO	Why, by making him uncapable of Othello's place;
	knocking out his brains.

RODERIGO	And that you would have me to do?

IAGO	Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and a right.
	He sups to-night with a harlotry, and thither will I
	go to him: he knows not yet of his horrorable
	fortune. If you will watch his going thence, which
	I will fashion to fall out between twelve and one,
	you may take him at your pleasure: I will be near
	to second your attempt, and he shall fall between
	us. Come, stand not amazed at it, but go along with
	me; I will show you such a necessity in his death
	that you shall think yourself bound to put it on
	him. It is now high suppertime, and the night grows
	to waste: about it.

RODERIGO	I will hear further reason for this.

IAGO	And you shall be satisfied.

	[Exeunt]




	OTHELLO


ACT IV



SCENE III	Another room In the castle.


	[Enter OTHELLO, LODOVICO, DESDEMONA, EMILIA and
	Attendants]

LODOVICO	I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further.

OTHELLO	O, pardon me: 'twill do me good to walk.

LODOVICO	Madam, good night; I humbly thank your ladyship.

DESDEMONA	Your honour is most welcome.

OTHELLO	Will you walk, sir?
	O,--Desdemona,--

DESDEMONA	My lord?

OTHELLO	Get you to bed on the instant; I will be returned
	forthwith: dismiss your attendant there: look it be done.

DESDEMONA	I will, my lord.

	[Exeunt OTHELLO, LODOVICO, and Attendants]

EMILIA	How goes it now? he looks gentler than he did.

DESDEMONA	He says he will return incontinent:
	He hath commanded me to go to bed,
	And bade me to dismiss you.

EMILIA	Dismiss me!

DESDEMONA	It was his bidding: therefore, good Emilia,.
	Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu:
	We must not now displease him.

EMILIA	I would you had never seen him!

DESDEMONA	So would not I	my love doth so approve him,
	That even his stubbornness, his cheques, his frowns--
	Prithee, unpin me,--have grace and favour in them.

EMILIA	I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed.

DESDEMONA	All's one. Good faith, how foolish are our minds!
	If I do die before thee prithee, shroud me
	In one of those same sheets.

EMILIA	Come, come you talk.

DESDEMONA	My mother had a maid call'd Barbara:
	She was in love, and he she loved proved mad
	And did forsake her: she had a song of 'willow;'
	An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune,
	And she died singing it: that song to-night
	Will not go from my mind; I have much to do,
	But to go hang my head all at one side,
	And sing it like poor Barbara. Prithee, dispatch.

EMILIA	Shall I go fetch your night-gown?

DESDEMONA	No, unpin me here.
	This Lodovico is a proper man.

EMILIA	A very handsome man.

DESDEMONA	He speaks well.

EMILIA	I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot
	to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip.

DESDEMONA	[Singing]  The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,
	Sing all a green willow:
	Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
	Sing willow, willow, willow:
	The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans;
	Sing willow, willow, willow;
	Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones;
	Lay by these:--

	[Singing]

	Sing willow, willow, willow;
	Prithee, hie thee; he'll come anon:--

	[Singing]

	Sing all a green willow must be my garland.
	Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve,-
	Nay, that's not next.--Hark! who is't that knocks?

EMILIA	It's the wind.

DESDEMONA	[Singing]  I call'd my love false love; but what
	said he then?
	Sing willow, willow, willow:
	If I court moe women, you'll couch with moe men!
	So, get thee gone; good night Ate eyes do itch;
	Doth that bode weeping?

EMILIA	'Tis neither here nor there.

DESDEMONA	I have heard it said so. O, these men, these men!
	Dost thou in conscience think,--tell me, Emilia,--
	That there be women do abuse their husbands
	In such gross kind?

EMILIA	There be some such, no question.

DESDEMONA	Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?

EMILIA	Why, would not you?

DESDEMONA	No, by this heavenly light!

EMILIA	Nor I neither by this heavenly light;
	I might do't as well i' the dark.

DESDEMONA	Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?

EMILIA	The world's a huge thing: it is a great price.
	For a small vice.

DESDEMONA	In troth, I think thou wouldst not.

EMILIA	In troth, I think I should; and undo't when I had
	done. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a
	joint-ring, nor for measures of lawn, nor for
	gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty
	exhibition; but for the whole world,--why, who would
	not make her husband a cuckold to make him a
	monarch? I should venture purgatory for't.

DESDEMONA	Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong
	For the whole world.

EMILIA	Why the wrong is but a wrong i' the world: and
	having the world for your labour, tis a wrong in your
	own world, and you might quickly make it right.

DESDEMONA	I do not think there is any such woman.

EMILIA	Yes, a dozen; and as many to the vantage as would
	store the world they played for.
	But I do think it is their husbands' faults
	If wives do fall: say that they slack their duties,
	And pour our treasures into foreign laps,
	Or else break out in peevish jealousies,
	Throwing restraint upon us; or say they strike us,
	Or scant our former having in despite;
	Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace,
	Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know
	Their wives have sense like them: they see and smell
	And have their palates both for sweet and sour,
	As husbands have. What is it that they do
	When they change us for others? Is it sport?
	I think it is: and doth affection breed it?
	I think it doth: is't frailty that thus errs?
	It is so too: and have not we affections,
	Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have?
	Then let them use us well: else let them know,
	The ills we do, their ills instruct us so.

DESDEMONA	Good night, good night: heaven me such uses send,
	Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend!

	[Exeunt]




	OTHELLO


ACT V



SCENE I	Cyprus. A street.


	[Enter IAGO and RODERIGO]

IAGO	Here, stand behind this bulk; straight will he come:
	Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home:
	Quick, quick; fear nothing; I'll be at thy elbow:
	It makes us, or it mars us; think on that,
	And fix most firm thy resolution.

RODERIGO	Be near at hand; I may miscarry in't.

IAGO	Here, at thy hand: be bold, and take thy stand.

	[Retires]

RODERIGO	I have no great devotion to the deed;
	And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons:
	'Tis but a man gone. Forth, my sword: he dies.

IAGO	I have rubb'd this young quat almost to the sense,
	And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio,
	Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
	Every way makes my gain: live Roderigo,
	He calls me to a restitution large
	Of gold and jewels that I bobb'd from him,
	As gifts to Desdemona;
	It must not be: if Cassio do remain,
	He hath a daily beauty in his life
	That makes me ugly; and, besides, the Moor
	May unfold me to him; there stand I in much peril:
	No, he must die. But so: I hear him coming.

	[Enter CASSIO]

RODERIGO	I know his gait, 'tis he.--Villain, thou diest!

	[Makes a pass at CASSIO]

CASSIO	That thrust had been mine enemy indeed,
	But that my coat is better than thou know'st
	I will make proof of thine.

	[Draws, and wounds RODERIGO]

RODERIGO	O, I am slain!

	[IAGO from behind wounds CASSIO in the leg, and exit]

CASSIO	I am maim'd for ever. Help, ho! murder! murder!

	[Falls]

	[Enter OTHELLO]

OTHELLO	The voice of Cassio: Iago keeps his word.

RODERIGO	O, villain that I am!

OTHELLO	It is even so.

CASSIO	O, help, ho! light! a surgeon!

OTHELLO	'Tis he:--O brave Iago, honest and just,
	That hast such noble sense of thy friend's wrong!
	Thou teachest me. Minion, your dear lies dead,
	And your unblest fate hies: strumpet, I come.
	Forth of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are blotted;
	Thy bed, lust-stain'd, shall with lust's blood be spotted.

	[Exit]

	[Enter LODOVICO and GRATIANO]

CASSIO	What, ho! no watch? no passage? murder! murder!

GRATIANO	'Tis some mischance; the cry is very direful.

CASSIO	O, help!

LODOVICO	Hark!

RODERIGO	O wretched villain!

LODOVICO	Two or three groan: it is a heavy night:
	These may be counterfeits: let's think't unsafe
	To come in to the cry without more help.

RODERIGO	Nobody come? then shall I bleed to death.

LODOVICO	Hark!

	[Re-enter IAGO, with a light]

GRATIANO	Here's one comes in his shirt, with light and weapons.

IAGO	Who's there? whose noise is this that ones on murder?

LODOVICO	We do not know.

IAGO	                  Did not you hear a cry?

CASSIO	Here, here! for heaven's sake, help me!

IAGO	What's the matter?

GRATIANO	This is Othello's ancient, as I take it.

LODOVICO	The same indeed; a very valiant fellow.

IAGO	What are you here that cry so grievously?

CASSIO	Iago? O, I am spoil'd, undone by villains!
	Give me some help.

IAGO	O me, lieutenant! what villains have done this?

CASSIO	I think that one of them is hereabout,
	And cannot make away.

IAGO	O treacherous villains!
	What are you there? come in, and give some help.

	[To LODOVICO and GRATIANO]

RODERIGO	O, help me here!

CASSIO	That's one of them.

IAGO	O murderous slave! O villain!

	[Stabs RODERIGO]

RODERIGO	O damn'd Iago! O inhuman dog!

IAGO	Kill men i' the dark!--Where be these bloody thieves?--
	How silent is this town!--Ho! murder! murder!--
	What may you be? are you of good or evil?

LODOVICO	As you shall prove us, praise us.

IAGO	Signior Lodovico?

LODOVICO	He, sir.

IAGO	I cry you mercy. Here's Cassio hurt by villains.

GRATIANO	Cassio!

IAGO	How is't, brother!

CASSIO	My leg is cut in two.

IAGO	Marry, heaven forbid!
	Light, gentlemen; I'll bind it with my shirt.

	[Enter BIANCA]

BIANCA	What is the matter, ho? who is't that cried?

IAGO	Who is't that cried!

BIANCA	O my dear Cassio! my sweet Cassio! O Cassio,
	Cassio, Cassio!

IAGO	O notable strumpet! Cassio, may you suspect
	Who they should be that have thus many led you?

CASSIO	No.

GRATIANO	I am to find you thus: I have been to seek you.

IAGO	Lend me a garter. So. O, for a chair,
	To bear him easily hence!

BIANCA	Alas, he faints! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!

IAGO	Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash
	To be a party in this injury.
	Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come;
	Lend me a light. Know we this face or no?
	Alas my friend and my dear countryman
	Roderigo! no:--yes, sure: O heaven! Roderigo.

GRATIANO	What, of Venice?

IAGO	Even he, sir; did you know him?

GRATIANO	Know him! ay.

IAGO	Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle pardon;
	These bloody accidents must excuse my manners,
	That so neglected you.

GRATIANO	I am glad to see you.

IAGO	How do you, Cassio? O, a chair, a chair!

GRATIANO	Roderigo!

IAGO	He, he 'tis he.

	[A chair brought in]

	O, that's well said; the chair!

GRATIANO	Some good man bear him carefully from hence;
	I'll fetch the general's surgeon.

	[To BIANCA]

		                  For you, mistress,
	Save you your labour. He that lies slain
	here, Cassio,
	Was my dear friend: what malice was between you?

CASSIO	None in the world; nor do I know the man.

IAGO	[To BIANCA]  What, look you pale? O, bear him out
	o' the air.

	[CASSIO and RODERIGO are borne off]

	Stay you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, mistress?
	Do you perceive the gastness of her eye?
	Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon.
	Behold her well; I pray you, look upon her:
	Do you see, gentlemen? nay, guiltiness will speak,
	Though tongues were out of use.

	[Enter EMILIA]

EMILIA	'Las, what's the matter? what's the matter, husband?

IAGO	Cassio hath here been set on in the dark
	By Roderigo and fellows that are scaped:
	He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead.

EMILIA	Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio!

IAGO	This is the fruit of whoring. Prithee, Emilia,
	Go know of Cassio where he supp'd to-night.

	[To BIANCA]

	What, do you shake at that?

BIANCA	He supp'd at my house; but I therefore shake not.

IAGO	O, did he so? I charge you, go with me.

EMILIA	Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet!

BIANCA	I am no strumpet; but of life as honest
	As you that thus abuse me.

EMILIA	As I! foh! fie upon thee!

IAGO	Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio dress'd.
	Come, mistress, you must tell's another tale.
	Emilia run you to the citadel,
	And tell my lord and lady what hath happ'd.
	Will you go on? I pray.

	[Aside]

		   This is the night
	That either makes me or fordoes me quite.

	[Exeunt]




	OTHELLO


ACT V



SCENE II	A bedchamber in the castle: DESDEMONA in bed asleep;
	a light burning.


	[Enter OTHELLO]

OTHELLO	It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,--
	Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars!--
	It is the cause. Yet I'll not shed her blood;
	Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow,
	And smooth as monumental alabaster.
	Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men.
	Put out the light, and then put out the light:
	If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
	I can again thy former light restore,
	Should I repent me: but once put out thy light,
	Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
	I know not where is that Promethean heat
	That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd the rose,
	I cannot give it vital growth again.
	It must needs wither: I'll smell it on the tree.

	[Kissing her]

	Ah balmy breath, that dost almost persuade
	Justice to break her sword! One more, one more.
	Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
	And love thee after. One more, and this the last:
	So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep,
	But they are cruel tears: this sorrow's heavenly;
	It strikes where it doth love. She wakes.

DESDEMONA	Who's there? Othello?

OTHELLO	Ay. Desdemona.

DESDEMONA	Will you come to bed, my lord?

OTHELLO	Have you pray'd to-night, Desdemona?

DESDEMONA	Ay, my lord.

OTHELLO	If you bethink yourself of any crime
	Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace,
	Solicit for it straight.

DESDEMONA	Alas, my lord, what do you mean by that?

OTHELLO	Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by:
	I would not kill thy unprepared spirit;
	No; heaven forfend! I would not kill thy soul.

DESDEMONA	Talk you of killing?

OTHELLO	Ay, I do.

DESDEMONA	Then heaven
	Have mercy on me!

OTHELLO	                  Amen, with all my heart!

DESDEMONA	If you say so, I hope you will not kill me.

OTHELLO	Hum!

DESDEMONA	And yet I fear you; for you are fatal then
	When your eyes roll so: why I should fear I know not,
	Since guiltiness I know not; but yet I feel I fear.

OTHELLO	Think on thy sins.

DESDEMONA	                  They are loves I bear to you.

OTHELLO	Ay, and for that thou diest.

DESDEMONA	That death's unnatural that kills for loving.
	Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip?
	Some bloody passion shakes your very frame:
	These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope,
	They do not point on me.

OTHELLO	Peace, and be still!

DESDEMONA	I will so. What's the matter?

OTHELLO	That handkerchief which I so loved and gave thee
	Thou gavest to Cassio.

DESDEMONA	No, by my life and soul!
	Send for the man, and ask him.

OTHELLO	Sweet soul, take heed,
	Take heed of perjury; thou art on thy deathbed.

DESDEMONA	Ay, but not yet to die.

OTHELLO	Yes, presently:
	Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin;
	For to deny each article with oath
	Cannot remove nor choke the strong conception
	That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.

DESDEMONA	Then Lord have mercy on me!

OTHELLO	I say, amen.

DESDEMONA	And have you mercy too! I never did
	Offend you in my life; never loved Cassio
	But with such general warranty of heaven
	As I might love: I never gave him token.

OTHELLO	By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in's hand.
	O perjured woman! thou dost stone my heart,
	And makest me call what I intend to do
	A murder, which I thought a sacrifice:
	I saw the handkerchief.

DESDEMONA	He found it then;
	I never gave it him: send for him hither;
	Let him confess a truth.

OTHELLO	He hath confess'd.

DESDEMONA	What, my lord?

OTHELLO	That he hath used thee.

DESDEMONA	How? unlawfully?

OTHELLO	Ay.

DESDEMONA	He will not say so.

OTHELLO	No, his mouth is stopp'd;
	Honest Iago hath ta'en order for't.

DESDEMONA	O! my fear interprets: what, is he dead?

OTHELLO	Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge
	Had stomach for them all.

DESDEMONA	Alas! he is betray'd and I undone.

OTHELLO	Out, strumpet! weep'st thou for him to my face?

DESDEMONA	O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not!

OTHELLO	Down, strumpet!

DESDEMONA	Kill me to-morrow: let me live to-night!

OTHELLO	Nay, if you strive--

DESDEMONA	But half an hour!

OTHELLO	                  Being done, there is no pause.

DESDEMONA	But while I say one prayer!

OTHELLO	It is too late.

	[He stifles her]

EMILIA	[Within]  My lord, my lord! what, ho! my lord, my lord!

OTHELLO	What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead?
	I that am cruel am yet merciful;
	I would not have thee linger in thy pain: So, so.

EMILIA	[Within]  What, ho! my lord, my lord!

OTHELLO	Who's there?

EMILIA	[Within]  O, good my lord, I would speak a word with you!

OTHELLO	Yes: 'tis Emilia. By and by. She's dead.
	'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death.--
	The noise was here. Ha! no more moving?
	Still as the grave. Shall she come in? were't good?--
	I think she stirs again:--no. What's best to do?
	If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife:
	My wife! my wife! what wife? I have no wife.
	O insupportable! O heavy hour!
	Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse
	Of sun and moon, and that the affrighted globe
	Should yawn at alteration.

EMILIA	[Within]  I do beseech you
	That I may speak with you, O, good my lord!

OTHELLO	I had forgot thee: O, come in, Emilia;
	Soft; by and by. Let me the curtains draw.
	Where art thou?

	[Unlocks the door]

	[Enter EMILIA]

	What's the matter with thee now?

EMILIA	O, my good lord, yonder's foul murders done!

OTHELLO	What, now?

EMILIA	But now, my lord.

OTHELLO	It is the very error of the moon;
	She comes more nearer earth than she was wont,
	And makes men mad.

EMILIA	Cassio, my lord, hath kill'd a young Venetian
	Call'd Roderigo.

OTHELLO	                  Roderigo kill'd!
	And Cassio kill'd!

EMILIA	No, Cassio is not kill'd.

OTHELLO	Not Cassio kill'd! then murder's out of tune,
	And sweet revenge grows harsh.

DESDEMONA	O, falsely, falsely murder'd!

EMILIA	Alas, what cry is that?

OTHELLO	That! what?

EMILIA	Out, and alas! that was my lady's voice.
	Help! help, ho! help! O lady, speak again!
	Sweet Desdemona! O sweet mistress, speak!

DESDEMONA	A guiltless death I die.

EMILIA	O, who hath done this deed?

DESDEMONA	Nobody; I myself. Farewell
	Commend me to my kind lord: O, farewell!

	[Dies]

OTHELLO	Why, how should she be murder'd?

EMILIA	Alas, who knows?

OTHELLO	You heard her say herself, it was not I.

EMILIA	She said so: I must needs report the truth.

OTHELLO	She's, like a liar, gone to burning hell:
	'Twas I that kill'd her.

EMILIA	O, the more angel she,
	And you the blacker devil!

OTHELLO	She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore.

EMILIA	Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil.

OTHELLO	She was false as water.

EMILIA	Thou art rash as fire, to say
	That she was false: O, she was heavenly true!

OTHELLO	Cassio did top her; ask thy husband else.
	O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell,
	But that I did proceed upon just grounds
	To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all.

EMILIA	My husband!

OTHELLO	Thy husband.

EMILIA	That she was false to wedlock?

OTHELLO	Ay, with Cassio. Nay, had she been true,
	If heaven would make me such another world
	Of one entire and Perfect chrysolite,
	I'ld not have sold her for it.

EMILIA	My husband!

OTHELLO	          Ay, 'twas he that told me first:
	An honest man he is, and hates the slime
	That sticks on filthy deeds.

EMILIA	My husband!

OTHELLO	What needs this iteration, woman? I say thy husband.

EMILIA	O mistress, villany hath made mocks with love,
	My husband say that she was false!

OTHELLO	He, woman;
	I say thy husband: dost understand the word?
	My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago.

EMILIA	If he say so, may his pernicious soul
	Rot half a grain a day! he lies to the heart:
	She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.

OTHELLO	Ha!

EMILIA	Do thy worst:
	This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven
	Than thou wast worthy her.

OTHELLO	Peace, you were best.

EMILIA	Thou hast not half that power to do me harm
	As I have to be hurt. O gull! O dolt!
	As ignorant as dirt! thou hast done a deed--
	I care not for thy sword; I'll make thee known,
	Though I lost twenty lives.--Help! help, ho! help!
	The Moor hath kill'd my mistress! Murder! murder!

	[Enter MONTANO, GRATIANO, IAGO, and others]

MONTANO	What is the matter? How now, general!

EMILIA	O, are you come, Iago? you have done well,
	That men must lay their murders on your neck.

GRATIANO	What is the matter?

EMILIA	Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man:
	He says thou told'st him that his wife was false:
	I know thou didst not, thou'rt not such a villain:
	Speak, for my heart is full.

IAGO	I told him what I thought, and told no more
	Than what he found himself was apt and true.

EMILIA	But did you ever tell him she was false?

IAGO	I did.

EMILIA	You told a lie, an odious, damned lie;
	Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie.
	She false with Cassio!--did you say with Cassio?

IAGO	With Cassio, mistress. Go to, charm your tongue.

EMILIA	I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to speak:
	My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed,--

All	O heavens forfend!

EMILIA	And your reports have set the murder on.

OTHELLO	Nay, stare not, masters: it is true, indeed.

GRATIANO	'Tis a strange truth.

MONTANO	O monstrous act!

EMILIA	                  Villany, villany, villany!
	I think upon't, I think: I smell't: O villany!--
	I thought so then:--I'll kill myself for grief:--
	O villany, villany!

IAGO	What, are you mad? I charge you, get you home.

EMILIA	Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak:

	'Tis proper I obey him, but not now.
	Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home.

OTHELLO	O! O! O!

	[He falls on the bed]

EMILIA	       Nay, lay thee down and roar;
	For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent
	That e'er did lift up eye.

OTHELLO	[Rising]  O, she was foul!
	I scarce did know you, uncle: there lies your niece,
	Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopp'd:
	I know this act shows horrible and grim.

GRATIANO	Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy father's dead:
	Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief
	Shore his old thread in twain: did he live now,
	This sight would make him do a desperate turn,
	Yea, curse his better angel from his side,
	And fall to reprobation.

OTHELLO	'Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows
	That she with Cassio hath the act of shame
	A thousand times committed; Cassio confess'd it:
	And she did gratify his amorous works
	With that recognizance and pledge of love
	Which I first gave her; I saw it in his hand:
	It was a handkerchief, an antique token
	My father gave my mother.

EMILIA	O heaven! O heavenly powers!

IAGO	Come, hold your peace.

EMILIA	'Twill out, 'twill out: I peace!
	No, I will speak as liberal as the north:
	Let heaven and men and devils, let them all,
	All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak.

IAGO	Be wise, and get you home.

EMILIA	I will not.

	[IAGO offers to stab EMILIA]

GRATIANO	Fie!
	Your sword upon a woman?

EMILIA	O thou dull Moor! that handkerchief thou speak'st of
	I found by fortune and did give my husband;
	For often, with a solemn earnestness,
	More than indeed belong'd to such a trifle,
	He begg'd of me to steal it.

IAGO	Villanous whore!

EMILIA	She give it Cassio! no, alas! I found it,
	And I did give't my husband.

IAGO	Filth, thou liest!

EMILIA	By heaven, I do not, I do not, gentlemen.
	O murderous coxcomb! what should such a fool
	Do with so good a woman?

OTHELLO	Are there no stones in heaven
	But what serve for the thunder?--Precious villain!

	[He runs at IAGO  IAGO, from behind, stabs EMILIA, and exit]

GRATIANO	The woman falls; sure, he hath kill'd his wife.

EMILIA	Ay, ay: O, lay me by my mistress' side.

GRATIANO	He's gone, but his wife's kill'd.

MONTANO	'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this weapon,
	Which I have here recover'd from the Moor:
	Come, guard the door without; let him not pass,
	But kill him rather. I'll after that same villain,
	For 'tis a damned slave.

	[Exeunt MONTANO and GRATIANO]

OTHELLO	I am not valiant neither,
	But ever puny whipster gets my sword:
	But why should honour outlive honesty?
	Let it go all.

EMILIA	What did thy song bode, lady?
	Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan.
	And die in music.

	[Singing]

	Willow, willow, willow,--
	Moor, she was chaste; she loved thee, cruel Moor;
	So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true;
	So speaking as I think, I die, I die.

	[Dies]

OTHELLO	I have another weapon in this chamber;
	It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper:--
	O, here it is. Uncle, I must come forth.

GRATIANO	[Within]  If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear:
	Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer.

OTHELLO	Look in upon me then and speak with me,
	Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee.

	[Re-enter GRATIANO]

GRATIANO	What is the matter?

OTHELLO	Behold, I have a weapon;
	A better never did itself sustain
	Upon a soldier's thigh: I have seen the day,
	That, with this little arm and this good sword,
	I have made my way through more impediments
	Than twenty times your stop: but, O vain boast!
	Who can control his fate? 'tis not so now.
	Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd;
	Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,
	And very sea-mark of my utmost sail.
	Do you go back dismay'd? 'tis a lost fear;
	Man but a rush against Othello's breast,
	And he retires. Where should Othello go?
	Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd wench!
	Pale as thy smock! when we shall meet at compt,
	This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven,
	And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl!
	Even like thy chastity. O cursed slave!
	Whip me, ye devils,
	From the possession of this heavenly sight!
	Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur!
	Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire!
	O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead!
	Oh! Oh! Oh!

	[Enter LODOVICO. MONTANO, CASSIO carried in a chair,
	and Officers with IAGO, prisoner]

LODOVICO	Where is this rash and most unfortunate man?

OTHELLO	That's he that was Othello: here I am.

LODOVICO	Where is that viper? bring the villain forth.

OTHELLO	I look down towards his feet; but that's a fable.
	If that thou best a devil, I cannot kill thee.

	[Wounds IAGO]

LODOVICO	Wrench his sword from him.

IAGO	I bleed, sir; but not kill'd.

OTHELLO	I am not sorry neither: I'ld have thee live;
	For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die.

LODOVICO	O thou Othello, thou wert once so good,
	Fall'n in the practise of a damned slave,
	What shall be said to thee?

OTHELLO	Why, any thing:
	An honourable murderer, if you will;
	For nought I did in hate, but all in honour.

LODOVICO	This wretch hath part confess'd his villany:
	Did you and he consent in Cassio's death?

OTHELLO	Ay.

CASSIO	Dear general, I never gave you cause.

OTHELLO	I do believe it, and I ask your pardon.
	Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil
	Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body?

IAGO	Demand me nothing: what you know, you know:
	From this time forth I never will speak word.

LODOVICO	What, not to pray?

GRATIANO	                  Torments will ope your lips.

OTHELLO	Well, thou dost best.

LODOVICO	Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n,
	Which, as I think, you know not. Here is a letter
	Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo;
	And here another: the one of them imports
	The death of Cassio to be undertook
	By Roderigo.

OTHELLO	O villain!

CASSIO	Most heathenish and most gross!

LODOVICO	Now here's another discontented paper,
	Found in his pocket too; and this, it seems,
	Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain;
	But that belike Iago in the interim
	Came in and satisfied him.

OTHELLO	O the pernicious caitiff!
	How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief
	That was my wife's?

CASSIO	I found it in my chamber:
	And he himself confess'd but even now
	That there he dropp'd it for a special purpose
	Which wrought to his desire.

OTHELLO	O fool! fool! fool!

CASSIO	There is besides in Roderigo's letter,
	How he upbraids Iago, that he made him
	Brave me upon the watch; whereon it came
	That I was cast: and even but now he spake,
	After long seeming dead, Iago hurt him,
	Iago set him on.

LODOVICO	You must forsake this room, and go with us:
	Your power and your command is taken off,
	And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave,
	If there be any cunning cruelty
	That can torment him much and hold him long,
	It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest,
	Till that the nature of your fault be known
	To the Venetian state. Come, bring him away.

OTHELLO	Soft you; a word or two before you go.
	I have done the state some service, and they know't.
	No more of that. I pray you, in your letters,
	When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,
	Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate,
	Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak
	Of one that loved not wisely but too well;
	Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought
	Perplex'd in the extreme; of one whose hand,
	Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away
	Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdued eyes,
	Albeit unused to the melting mood,
	Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
	Their medicinal gum. Set you down this;
	And say besides, that in Aleppo once,
	Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk
	Beat a Venetian and traduced the state,
	I took by the throat the circumcised dog,
	And smote him, thus.

	[Stabs himself]

LODOVICO	O bloody period!

GRATIANO	                  All that's spoke is marr'd.

OTHELLO	I kiss'd thee ere I kill'd thee: no way but this;
	Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.

	[Falls on the bed, and dies]

CASSIO	This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon;
	For he was great of heart.

LODOVICO	[To IAGO]  O Spartan dog,
	More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea!
	Look on the tragic loading of this bed;
	This is thy work: the object poisons sight;
	Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house,
	And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor,
	For they succeed on you. To you, lord governor,
	Remains the censure of this hellish villain;
	The time, the place, the torture: O, enforce it!
	Myself will straight aboard: and to the state
	This heavy act with heavy heart relate.

	[Exeunt]




	TIMON OF ATHENS



	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


TIMON	of Athens.


LUCIUS	|
	|
LUCULLUS	|  flattering lords.
	|
SEMPRONIUS	|


VENTIDIUS	one of Timon's false friends.

ALCIBIADES	an Athenian captain.

APEMANTUS	a churlish philosopher.

FLAVIUS	steward to Timon.

	Poet, Painter, Jeweller, and Merchant. (Poet:)
	(Painter:)
	(Jeweller:)
	(Merchant:)

	An old Athenian. (Old Athenian:)


FLAMINIUS	|
	|
LUCILIUS	|  servants to Timon.
	|
SERVILIUS	|


CAPHIS	|
	|
PHILOTUS	|
	|
TITUS	|
	|  servants to Timon's creditors.
LUCIUS	|
	|
HORTENSIUS	|
	|
And others	|


	A Page. (Page:)

	A Fool. (Fool:)

	Three Strangers.
	(First Stranger:)
	(Second Stranger:)
	(Third Stranger:)


PHRYNIA	|
	|  mistresses to Alcibiades.
TIMANDRA	|


	Cupid and Amazons in the mask. (Cupid:)

	Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers,
	Banditti, and Attendants.
	(First Lord:)
	(Second Lord:)
	(Third Lord:)
	(Fourth Lord:)
	(Senator:)
	(First Senator:)
	(Second Senator:)
	(Third Senator:)
	(Soldier:)
	(First Bandit:)
	(Second Bandit:)
	(Third Bandit:)
	(Messenger:)
	(Servant:)
	(First Servant:)
	(Second Servant:)
	(Third Servant:)
	(Varro's First Servant:)
	(Varro's Second Servant:)
	(Lucilius' Servant:)


SCENE	Athens, and the neighbouring woods.




	TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT I



SCENE I	Athens. A hall in Timon's house.


	[Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and
	others, at several doors]

Poet	Good day, sir.

Painter	                  I am glad you're well.

Poet	I have not seen you long: how goes the world?

Painter	It wears, sir, as it grows.

Poet	Ay, that's well known:
	But what particular rarity? what strange,
	Which manifold record not matches? See,
	Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power
	Hath conjured to attend. I know the merchant.

Painter	I know them both; th' other's a jeweller.

Merchant	O, 'tis a worthy lord.

Jeweller	Nay, that's most fix'd.

Merchant	A most incomparable man, breathed, as it were,
	To an untirable and continuate goodness:
	He passes.

Jeweller:	I have a jewel here--

Merchant	O, pray, let's see't: for the Lord Timon, sir?

Jeweller:	If he will touch the estimate: but, for that--

Poet	[Reciting to himself]  'When we for recompense have
	praised the vile,
	It stains the glory in that happy verse
	Which aptly sings the good.'

Merchant	'Tis a good form.

	[Looking at the jewel]

Jeweller	And rich: here is a water, look ye.

Painter	You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication
	To the great lord.

Poet	                  A thing slipp'd idly from me.
	Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes
	From whence 'tis nourish'd: the fire i' the flint
	Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame
	Provokes itself and like the current flies
	Each bound it chafes. What have you there?

Painter	A picture, sir. When comes your book forth?

Poet	Upon the heels of my presentment, sir.
	Let's see your piece.

Painter	'Tis a good piece.

Poet	So 'tis: this comes off well and excellent.

Painter	Indifferent.

Poet	                  Admirable: how this grace
	Speaks his own standing! what a mental power
	This eye shoots forth! how big imagination
	Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture
	One might interpret.

Painter	It is a pretty mocking of the life.
	Here is a touch; is't good?

Poet	I will say of it,
	It tutors nature: artificial strife
	Lives in these touches, livelier than life.

	[Enter certain Senators, and pass over]

Painter	How this lord is follow'd!

Poet	The senators of Athens: happy man!

Painter	Look, more!

Poet	You see this confluence, this great flood
	of visitors.
	I have, in this rough work, shaped out a man,
	Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug
	With amplest entertainment: my free drift
	Halts not particularly, but moves itself
	In a wide sea of wax: no levell'd malice
	Infects one comma in the course I hold;
	But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on,
	Leaving no tract behind.

Painter	How shall I understand you?

Poet	I will unbolt to you.
	You see how all conditions, how all minds,
	As well of glib and slippery creatures as
	Of grave and austere quality, tender down
	Their services to Lord Timon: his large fortune
	Upon his good and gracious nature hanging
	Subdues and properties to his love and tendance
	All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-faced flatterer
	To Apemantus, that few things loves better
	Than to abhor himself: even he drops down
	The knee before him, and returns in peace
	Most rich in Timon's nod.

Painter	I saw them speak together.

Poet	Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill
	Feign'd Fortune to be throned: the base o' the mount
	Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures,
	That labour on the bosom of this sphere
	To propagate their states: amongst them all,
	Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd,
	One do I personate of Lord Timon's frame,
	Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her;
	Whose present grace to present slaves and servants
	Translates his rivals.

Painter	'Tis conceived to scope.
	This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks,
	With one man beckon'd from the rest below,
	Bowing his head against the sleepy mount
	To climb his happiness, would be well express'd
	In our condition.

Poet	                  Nay, sir, but hear me on.
	All those which were his fellows but of late,
	Some better than his value, on the moment
	Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance,
	Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,
	Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him
	Drink the free air.

Painter	Ay, marry, what of these?

Poet	When Fortune in her shift and change of mood
	Spurns down her late beloved, all his dependants
	Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top
	Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down,
	Not one accompanying his declining foot.

Painter	'Tis common:
	A thousand moral paintings I can show
	That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune's
	More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well
	To show Lord Timon that mean eyes have seen
	The foot above the head.

	[Trumpets sound. Enter TIMON, addressing himself
	courteously to every suitor; a Messenger from
	VENTIDIUS talking with him; LUCILIUS and other
	servants following]

TIMON	Imprison'd is he, say you?

Messenger	Ay, my good lord: five talents is his debt,
	His means most short, his creditors most strait:
	Your honourable letter he desires
	To those have shut him up; which failing,
	Periods his comfort.

TIMON	Noble Ventidius! Well;
	I am not of that feather to shake off
	My friend when he must need me. I do know him
	A gentleman that well deserves a help:
	Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt,
	and free him.

Messenger	Your lordship ever binds him.

TIMON	Commend me to him: I will send his ransom;
	And being enfranchised, bid him come to me.
	'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,
	But to support him after. Fare you well.

Messenger	All happiness to your honour!

	[Exit]

	[Enter an old Athenian]

Old Athenian	Lord Timon, hear me speak.

TIMON	Freely, good father.

Old Athenian	Thou hast a servant named Lucilius.

TIMON	I have so: what of him?

Old Athenian	Most noble Timon, call the man before thee.

TIMON	Attends he here, or no? Lucilius!

LUCILIUS	Here, at your lordship's service.

Old Athenian	This fellow here, Lord Timon, this thy creature,
	By night frequents my house. I am a man
	That from my first have been inclined to thrift;
	And my estate deserves an heir more raised
	Than one which holds a trencher.

TIMON	Well; what further?

Old Athenian	One only daughter have I, no kin else,
	On whom I may confer what I have got:
	The maid is fair, o' the youngest for a bride,
	And I have bred her at my dearest cost
	In qualities of the best. This man of thine
	Attempts her love: I prithee, noble lord,
	Join with me to forbid him her resort;
	Myself have spoke in vain.

TIMON	The man is honest.

Old Athenian	Therefore he will be, Timon:
	His honesty rewards him in itself;
	It must not bear my daughter.

TIMON	Does she love him?

Old Athenian	She is young and apt:
	Our own precedent passions do instruct us
	What levity's in youth.

TIMON	[To LUCILIUS]           Love you the maid?

LUCILIUS	Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it.

Old Athenian	If in her marriage my consent be missing,
	I call the gods to witness, I will choose
	Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world,
	And dispossess her all.

TIMON	How shall she be endow'd,
	if she be mated with an equal husband?

Old Athenian	Three talents on the present; in future, all.

TIMON	This gentleman of mine hath served me long:
	To build his fortune I will strain a little,
	For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter:
	What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise,
	And make him weigh with her.

Old Athenian	Most noble lord,
	Pawn me to this your honour, she is his.

TIMON	My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise.

LUCILIUS	Humbly I thank your lordship: never may
	The state or fortune fall into my keeping,
	Which is not owed to you!

	[Exeunt LUCILIUS and Old Athenian]

Poet	Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!

TIMON	I thank you; you shall hear from me anon:
	Go not away. What have you there, my friend?

Painter	A piece of painting, which I do beseech
	Your lordship to accept.

TIMON	Painting is welcome.
	The painting is almost the natural man;
	or since dishonour traffics with man's nature,
	He is but outside: these pencill'd figures are
	Even such as they give out. I like your work;
	And you shall find I like it: wait attendance
	Till you hear further from me.

Painter	The gods preserve ye!

TIMON	Well fare you, gentleman: give me your hand;
	We must needs dine together. Sir, your jewel
	Hath suffer'd under praise.

Jeweller	What, my lord! dispraise?

TIMON	A more satiety of commendations.
	If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd,
	It would unclew me quite.

Jeweller	My lord, 'tis rated
	As those which sell would give: but you well know,
	Things of like value differing in the owners
	Are prized by their masters: believe't, dear lord,
	You mend the jewel by the wearing it.

TIMON	Well mock'd.

Merchant	No, my good lord; he speaks the common tongue,
	Which all men speak with him.

TIMON	Look, who comes here: will you be chid?

	[Enter APEMANTUS]

Jeweller: We'll bear, with your lordship.

Merchant	He'll spare none.

TIMON	Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus!

APEMANTUS	Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow;
	When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest.

TIMON	Why dost thou call them knaves? thou know'st them not.

APEMANTUS	Are they not Athenians?

TIMON	Yes.

APEMANTUS	Then I repent not.

Jeweller: You know me, Apemantus?

APEMANTUS	Thou know'st I do: I call'd thee by thy name.

TIMON	Thou art proud, Apemantus.

APEMANTUS	Of nothing so much as that I am not like Timon.

TIMON	Whither art going?

APEMANTUS	To knock out an honest Athenian's brains.

TIMON	That's a deed thou'lt die for.

APEMANTUS	Right, if doing nothing be death by the law.

TIMON	How likest thou this picture, Apemantus?

APEMANTUS	The best, for the innocence.

TIMON	Wrought he not well that painted it?

APEMANTUS	He wrought better that made the painter; and yet
	he's but a filthy piece of work.

Painter	You're a dog.

APEMANTUS	Thy mother's of my generation: what's she, if I be a dog?

TIMON	Wilt dine with me, Apemantus?

APEMANTUS	No; I eat not lords.

TIMON	An thou shouldst, thou 'ldst anger ladies.

APEMANTUS	O, they eat lords; so they come by great bellies.

TIMON	That's a lascivious apprehension.

APEMANTUS	So thou apprehendest it: take it for thy labour.

TIMON	How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus?

APEMANTUS	Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not cost a
	man a doit.

TIMON	What dost thou think 'tis worth?

APEMANTUS	Not worth my thinking. How now, poet!

Poet	How now, philosopher!

APEMANTUS	Thou liest.

Poet	Art not one?

APEMANTUS	Yes.

Poet	Then I lie not.

APEMANTUS	Art not a poet?

Poet	Yes.

APEMANTUS	Then thou liest: look in thy last work, where thou
	hast feigned him a worthy fellow.

Poet	That's not feigned; he is so.

APEMANTUS	Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy
	labour: he that loves to be flattered is worthy o'
	the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord!

TIMON	What wouldst do then, Apemantus?

APEMANTUS	E'en as Apemantus does now; hate a lord with my heart.

TIMON	What, thyself?

APEMANTUS	Ay.

TIMON	Wherefore?

APEMANTUS	That I had no angry wit to be a lord.
	Art not thou a merchant?

Merchant	Ay, Apemantus.

APEMANTUS	Traffic confound thee, if the gods will not!

Merchant	If traffic do it, the gods do it.

APEMANTUS	Traffic's thy god; and thy god confound thee!

	[Trumpet sounds. Enter a Messenger]

TIMON	What trumpet's that?

Messenger	'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse,
	All of companionship.

TIMON	Pray, entertain them; give them guide to us.

	[Exeunt some Attendants]

	You must needs dine with me: go not you hence
	Till I have thank'd you: when dinner's done,
	Show me this piece. I am joyful of your sights.

	[Enter ALCIBIADES, with the rest]

	Most welcome, sir!

APEMANTUS	                  So, so, there!
	Aches contract and starve your supple joints!
	That there should be small love 'mongst these
	sweet knaves,
	And all this courtesy! The strain of man's bred out
	Into baboon and monkey.

ALCIBIADES	Sir, you have saved my longing, and I feed
	Most hungerly on your sight.

TIMON	Right welcome, sir!
	Ere we depart, we'll share a bounteous time
	In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in.

	[Exeunt all except APEMANTUS]

	[Enter two Lords]

First Lord	What time o' day is't, Apemantus?

APEMANTUS	Time to be honest.

First Lord	That time serves still.

APEMANTUS	The more accursed thou, that still omitt'st it.

Second Lord	Thou art going to Lord Timon's feast?

APEMANTUS	Ay, to see meat fill knaves and wine heat fools.

Second Lord	Fare thee well, fare thee well.

APEMANTUS	Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice.

Second Lord	Why, Apemantus?

APEMANTUS	Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to
	give thee none.

First Lord	Hang thyself!

APEMANTUS	No, I will do nothing at thy bidding: make thy
	requests to thy friend.

Second Lord	Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll spurn thee hence!

APEMANTUS	I will fly, like a dog, the heels o' the ass.

	[Exit]

First Lord	He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in,
	And taste Lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes
	The very heart of kindness.

Second Lord	He pours it out; Plutus, the god of gold,
	Is but his steward: no meed, but he repays
	Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him,
	But breeds the giver a return exceeding
	All use of quittance.

First Lord	The noblest mind he carries
	That ever govern'd man.

Second Lord	Long may he live in fortunes! Shall we in?

First Lord	I'll keep you company.

	[Exeunt]




	TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT I



SCENE II	A banqueting-room in Timon's house.


	[Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet
	served in; FLAVIUS and others attending; then enter
	TIMON, ALCIBIADES, Lords, Senators, and VENTIDIUS.
	Then comes, dropping, after all, APEMANTUS,
	discontentedly, like himself]

VENTIDIUS	Most honour'd Timon,
	It hath pleased the gods to remember my father's age,
	And call him to long peace.
	He is gone happy, and has left me rich:
	Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound
	To your free heart, I do return those talents,
	Doubled with thanks and service, from whose help
	I derived liberty.

TIMON	                  O, by no means,
	Honest Ventidius; you mistake my love:
	I gave it freely ever; and there's none
	Can truly say he gives, if he receives:
	If our betters play at that game, we must not dare
	To imitate them; faults that are rich are fair.

VENTIDIUS	A noble spirit!

TIMON	                  Nay, my lords,

	[They all stand ceremoniously looking on TIMON]

	Ceremony was but devised at first
	To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes,
	Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown;
	But where there is true friendship, there needs none.
	Pray, sit; more welcome are ye to my fortunes
	Than my fortunes to me.

	[They sit]

First Lord	My lord, we always have confess'd it.

APEMANTUS	Ho, ho, confess'd it! hang'd it, have you not?

TIMON	O, Apemantus, you are welcome.

APEMANTUS	No;
	You shall not make me welcome:
	I come to have thee thrust me out of doors.

TIMON	Fie, thou'rt a churl; ye've got a humour there
	Does not become a man: 'tis much to blame.
	They say, my lords, 'ira furor brevis est;' but yond
	man is ever angry. Go, let him have a table by
	himself, for he does neither affect company, nor is
	he fit for't, indeed.

APEMANTUS	Let me stay at thine apperil, Timon: I come to
	observe; I give thee warning on't.

TIMON	I take no heed of thee; thou'rt an Athenian,
	therefore welcome: I myself would have no power;
	prithee, let my meat make thee silent.

APEMANTUS	I scorn thy meat; 'twould choke me, for I should
	ne'er flatter thee. O you gods, what a number of
	men eat Timon, and he sees 'em not! It grieves me
	to see so many dip their meat in one man's blood;
	and all the madness is, he cheers them up too.
	I wonder men dare trust themselves with men:
	Methinks they should invite them without knives;
	Good for their meat, and safer for their lives.
	There's much example for't; the fellow that sits
	next him now, parts bread with him, pledges the
	breath of him in a divided draught, is the readiest
	man to kill him: 't has been proved. If I were a
	huge man, I should fear to drink at meals;
	Lest they should spy my windpipe's dangerous notes:
	Great men should drink with harness on their throats.

TIMON	My lord, in heart; and let the health go round.

Second Lord	Let it flow this way, my good lord.

APEMANTUS	Flow this way! A brave fellow! he keeps his tides
	well. Those healths will make thee and thy state
	look ill, Timon. Here's that which is too weak to
	be a sinner, honest water, which ne'er left man i' the mire:
	This and my food are equals; there's no odds:
	Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods.

	Apemantus' grace.

	Immortal gods, I crave no pelf;
	I pray for no man but myself:
	Grant I may never prove so fond,
	To trust man on his oath or bond;
	Or a harlot, for her weeping;
	Or a dog, that seems a-sleeping:
	Or a keeper with my freedom;
	Or my friends, if I should need 'em.
	Amen. So fall to't:
	Rich men sin, and I eat root.

	[Eats and drinks]

	Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus!

TIMON	Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in the field now.

ALCIBIADES	My heart is ever at your service, my lord.

TIMON	You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies than a
	dinner of friends.

ALCIBIADES	So the were bleeding-new, my lord, there's no meat
	like 'em: I could wish my best friend at such a feast.

APEMANTUS	Would all those fatterers were thine enemies then,
	that then thou mightst kill 'em and bid me to 'em!

First Lord	Might we but have that happiness, my lord, that you
	would once use our hearts, whereby we might express
	some part of our zeals, we should think ourselves
	for ever perfect.

TIMON	O, no doubt, my good friends, but the gods
	themselves have provided that I shall have much help
	from you: how had you been my friends else? why
	have you that charitable title from thousands, did
	not you chiefly belong to my heart? I have told
	more of you to myself than you can with modesty
	speak in your own behalf; and thus far I confirm
	you. O you gods, think I, what need we have any
	friends, if we should ne'er have need of 'em? they
	were the most needless creatures living, should we
	ne'er have use for 'em, and would most resemble
	sweet instruments hung up in cases that keep their
	sounds to themselves. Why, I have often wished
	myself poorer, that I might come nearer to you. We
	are born to do benefits: and what better or
	properer can we can our own than the riches of our
	friends? O, what a precious comfort 'tis, to have
	so many, like brothers, commanding one another's
	fortunes! O joy, e'en made away ere 't can be born!
	Mine eyes cannot hold out water, methinks: to
	forget their faults, I drink to you.

APEMANTUS	Thou weepest to make them drink, Timon.

Second Lord	Joy had the like conception in our eyes
	And at that instant like a babe sprung up.

APEMANTUS	Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe a bastard.

Third Lord	I promise you, my lord, you moved me much.

APEMANTUS	Much!

	[Tucket, within]

TIMON	What means that trump?

	[Enter a Servant]

		 How now?

Servant	Please you, my lord, there are certain
	ladies most desirous of admittance.

TIMON	Ladies! what are their wills?

Servant	There comes with them a forerunner, my lord, which
	bears that office, to signify their pleasures.

TIMON	I pray, let them be admitted.

	[Enter Cupid]

Cupid	Hail to thee, worthy Timon, and to all
	That of his bounties taste! The five best senses
	Acknowledge thee their patron; and come freely
	To gratulate thy plenteous bosom: th' ear,
	Taste, touch and smell, pleased from thy tale rise;
	They only now come but to feast thine eyes.

TIMON	They're welcome all; let 'em have kind admittance:
	Music, make their welcome!

	[Exit Cupid]

First Lord	You see, my lord, how ample you're beloved.

	[Music. Re-enter Cupid with a mask of Ladies
	as Amazons, with lutes in their hands,
	dancing and playing]

APEMANTUS	Hoy-day, what a sweep of vanity comes this way!
	They dance! they are mad women.
	Like madness is the glory of this life.
	As this pomp shows to a little oil and root.
	We make ourselves fools, to disport ourselves;
	And spend our flatteries, to drink those men
	Upon whose age we void it up again,
	With poisonous spite and envy.
	Who lives that's not depraved or depraves?
	Who dies, that bears not one spurn to their graves
	Of their friends' gift?
	I should fear those that dance before me now
	Would one day stamp upon me: 't has been done;
	Men shut their doors against a setting sun.

	[The Lords rise from table, with much adoring of
	TIMON; and to show their loves, each singles out an
	Amazon, and all dance, men with women, a lofty
	strain or two to the hautboys, and cease]

TIMON	You have done our pleasures much grace, fair ladies,
	Set a fair fashion on our entertainment,
	Which was not half so beautiful and kind;
	You have added worth unto 't and lustre,
	And entertain'd me with mine own device;
	I am to thank you for 't.

First Lady	My lord, you take us even at the best.

APEMANTUS	'Faith, for the worst is filthy; and would not hold
	taking, I doubt me.

TIMON	Ladies, there is an idle banquet attends you:
	Please you to dispose yourselves.

All Ladies	Most thankfully, my lord.

	[Exeunt Cupid and Ladies]

TIMON	Flavius.

FLAVIUS	My lord?

TIMON	       The little casket bring me hither.

FLAVIUS	Yes, my lord. More jewels yet!
	There is no crossing him in 's humour;

	[Aside]

	Else I should tell him,--well, i' faith I should,
	When all's spent, he 'ld be cross'd then, an he could.
	'Tis pity bounty had not eyes behind,
	That man might ne'er be wretched for his mind.

	[Exit]

First Lord	Where be our men?

Servant	Here, my lord, in readiness.

Second Lord	Our horses!

	[Re-enter FLAVIUS, with the casket]

TIMON	          O my friends,
	I have one word to say to you: look you, my good lord,
	I must entreat you, honour me so much
	As to advance this jewel; accept it and wear it,
	Kind my lord.

First Lord	I am so far already in your gifts,--

All	So are we all.

	[Enter a Servant]

Servant	My lord, there are certain nobles of the senate
	Newly alighted, and come to visit you.

TIMON	They are fairly welcome.

FLAVIUS	I beseech your honour,
	Vouchsafe me a word; it does concern you near.

TIMON	Near! why then, another time I'll hear thee:
	I prithee, let's be provided to show them
	entertainment.

FLAVIUS	[Aside]  I scarce know how.

	[Enter a Second Servant]

Second Servant	May it please your honour, Lord Lucius,
	Out of his free love, hath presented to you
	Four milk-white horses, trapp'd in silver.

TIMON	I shall accept them fairly; let the presents
	Be worthily entertain'd.

	[Enter a third Servant]

		   How now! what news?

Third Servant	Please you, my lord, that honourable
	gentleman, Lord Lucullus, entreats your company
	to-morrow to hunt with him, and has sent your honour
	two brace of greyhounds.

TIMON	I'll hunt with him; and let them be received,
	Not without fair reward.

FLAVIUS	[Aside]                What will this come to?
	He commands us to provide, and give great gifts,
	And all out of an empty coffer:
	Nor will he know his purse, or yield me this,
	To show him what a beggar his heart is,
	Being of no power to make his wishes good:
	His promises fly so beyond his state
	That what he speaks is all in debt; he owes
	For every word: he is so kind that he now
	Pays interest for 't; his land's put to their books.
	Well, would I were gently put out of office
	Before I were forced out!
	Happier is he that has no friend to feed
	Than such that do e'en enemies exceed.
	I bleed inwardly for my lord.

	[Exit]

TIMON	You do yourselves
	Much wrong, you bate too much of your own merits:
	Here, my lord, a trifle of our love.

Second Lord	With more than common thanks I will receive it.

Third Lord	O, he's the very soul of bounty!

TIMON	And now I remember, my lord, you gave
	Good words the other day of a bay courser
	I rode on: it is yours, because you liked it.

Second Lord	O, I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, in that.

TIMON	You may take my word, my lord; I know, no man
	Can justly praise but what he does affect:
	I weigh my friend's affection with mine own;
	I'll tell you true. I'll call to you.

All Lords	O, none so welcome.

TIMON	I take all and your several visitations
	So kind to heart, 'tis not enough to give;
	Methinks, I could deal kingdoms to my friends,
	And ne'er be weary. Alcibiades,
	Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich;
	It comes in charity to thee: for all thy living
	Is 'mongst the dead, and all the lands thou hast
	Lie in a pitch'd field.

ALCIBIADES	Ay, defiled land, my lord.

First Lord	We are so virtuously bound--

TIMON	And so
	Am I to you.

Second Lord	So infinitely endear'd--

TIMON	All to you. Lights, more lights!

First Lord	The best of happiness,
	Honour and fortunes, keep with you, Lord Timon!

TIMON	Ready for his friends.

	[Exeunt all but APEMANTUS and TIMON]

APEMANTUS	What a coil's here!
	Serving of becks and jutting-out of bums!
	I doubt whether their legs be worth the sums
	That are given for 'em. Friendship's full of dregs:
	Methinks, false hearts should never have sound legs,
	Thus honest fools lay out their wealth on court'sies.

TIMON	Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen, I would be
	good to thee.

APEMANTUS	No, I'll nothing: for if I should be bribed too,
	there would be none left to rail upon thee, and then
	thou wouldst sin the faster. Thou givest so long,
	Timon, I fear me thou wilt give away thyself in
	paper shortly: what need these feasts, pomps and
	vain-glories?

TIMON	Nay, an you begin to rail on society once, I am
	sworn not to give regard to you. Farewell; and come
	with better music.

	[Exit]

APEMANTUS	So:
	Thou wilt not hear me now; thou shalt not then:
	I'll lock thy heaven from thee.
	O, that men's ears should be
	To counsel deaf, but not to flattery!

	[Exit]




	TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT II



SCENE I	A Senator's house.


	[Enter Senator, with papers in his hand]

Senator	And late, five thousand: to Varro and to Isidore
	He owes nine thousand; besides my former sum,
	Which makes it five and twenty. Still in motion
	Of raging waste? It cannot hold; it will not.
	If I want gold, steal but a beggar's dog,
	And give it Timon, why, the dog coins gold.
	If I would sell my horse, and buy twenty more
	Better than he, why, give my horse to Timon,
	Ask nothing, give it him, it foals me, straight,
	And able horses. No porter at his gate,
	But rather one that smiles and still invites
	All that pass by. It cannot hold: no reason
	Can found his state in safety. Caphis, ho!
	Caphis, I say!

	[Enter CAPHIS]

CAPHIS	Here, sir; what is your pleasure?

Senator	Get on your cloak, and haste you to Lord Timon;
	Importune him for my moneys; be not ceased
	With slight denial, nor then silenced when--
	'Commend me to your master'--and the cap
	Plays in the right hand, thus: but tell him,
	My uses cry to me, I must serve my turn
	Out of mine own; his days and times are past
	And my reliances on his fracted dates
	Have smit my credit: I love and honour him,
	But must not break my back to heal his finger;
	Immediate are my needs, and my relief
	Must not be toss'd and turn'd to me in words,
	But find supply immediate. Get you gone:
	Put on a most importunate aspect,
	A visage of demand; for, I do fear,
	When every feather sticks in his own wing,
	Lord Timon will be left a naked gull,
	Which flashes now a phoenix. Get you gone.

CAPHIS	I go, sir.

Senator	'I go, sir!'--Take the bonds along with you,
	And have the dates in contempt.

CAPHIS	I will, sir.

Senator	Go.

	[Exeunt]




	TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT II



SCENE II	The same. A hall in Timon's house.


	[Enter FLAVIUS, with many bills in his hand]

FLAVIUS	No care, no stop! so senseless of expense,
	That he will neither know how to maintain it,
	Nor cease his flow of riot: takes no account
	How things go from him, nor resumes no care
	Of what is to continue: never mind
	Was to be so unwise, to be so kind.
	What shall be done? he will not hear, till feel:
	I must be round with him, now he comes from hunting.
	Fie, fie, fie, fie!

	[Enter CAPHIS, and the Servants of Isidore and Varro]

CAPHIS	Good even, Varro: what,
	You come for money?

Varro's Servant	Is't not your business too?

CAPHIS	It is: and yours too, Isidore?

Isidore's Servant	It is so.

CAPHIS	Would we were all discharged!

Varro's Servant	I fear it.

CAPHIS	Here comes the lord.

	[Enter TIMON, ALCIBIADES, and Lords, &c]

TIMON	So soon as dinner's done, we'll forth again,
	My Alcibiades. With me? what is your will?

CAPHIS	My lord, here is a note of certain dues.

TIMON	Dues! Whence are you?

CAPHIS	Of Athens here, my lord.

TIMON	Go to my steward.

CAPHIS	Please it your lordship, he hath put me off
	To the succession of new days this month:
	My master is awaked by great occasion
	To call upon his own, and humbly prays you
	That with your other noble parts you'll suit
	In giving him his right.

TIMON	Mine honest friend,
	I prithee, but repair to me next morning.

CAPHIS	Nay, good my lord,--

TIMON	Contain thyself, good friend.

Varro's Servant	One Varro's servant, my good lord,--

Isidore's Servant	From Isidore;
	He humbly prays your speedy payment.

CAPHIS	If you did know, my lord, my master's wants--

Varro's Servant	'Twas due on forfeiture, my lord, six weeks And past.

Isidore's Servant	         Your steward puts me off, my lord;
	And I am sent expressly to your lordship.

TIMON	Give me breath.
	I do beseech you, good my lords, keep on;
	I'll wait upon you instantly.

	[Exeunt ALCIBIADES and Lords]

	[To FLAVIUS]

		        Come hither: pray you,
	How goes the world, that I am thus encounter'd
	With clamourous demands of date-broke bonds,
	And the detention of long-since-due debts,
	Against my honour?

FLAVIUS	                  Please you, gentlemen,
	The time is unagreeable to this business:
	Your importunacy cease till after dinner,
	That I may make his lordship understand
	Wherefore you are not paid.

TIMON	Do so, my friends. See them well entertain'd.

	[Exit]

FLAVIUS	Pray, draw near.

	[Exit]

	[Enter APEMANTUS and Fool]

CAPHIS	Stay, stay, here comes the fool with Apemantus:
	let's ha' some sport with 'em.

Varro's Servant	Hang him, he'll abuse us.

Isidore's Servant	A plague upon him, dog!

Varro's Servant	How dost, fool?

APEMANTUS	Dost dialogue with thy shadow?

Varro's Servant	I speak not to thee.

APEMANTUS	No,'tis to thyself.

	[To the Fool]

	Come away.

Isidore's Servant	There's the fool hangs on your back already.

APEMANTUS	No, thou stand'st single, thou'rt not on him yet.

CAPHIS	Where's the fool now?

APEMANTUS	He last asked the question. Poor rogues, and
	usurers' men! bawds between gold and want!

All Servants	What are we, Apemantus?

APEMANTUS	Asses.

All Servants	Why?

APEMANTUS	That you ask me what you are, and do not know
	yourselves. Speak to 'em, fool.

Fool	How do you, gentlemen?

All Servants	Gramercies, good fool: how does your mistress?

Fool	She's e'en setting on water to scald such chickens
	as you are. Would we could see you at Corinth!

APEMANTUS	Good! gramercy.

	[Enter Page]

Fool	Look you, here comes my mistress' page.

Page	[To the Fool]  Why, how now, captain! what do you
	in this wise company? How dost thou, Apemantus?

APEMANTUS	Would I had a rod in my mouth, that I might answer
	thee profitably.

Page	Prithee, Apemantus, read me the superscription of
	these letters: I know not which is which.

APEMANTUS	Canst not read?

Page	No.

APEMANTUS	There will little learning die then, that day thou
	art hanged. This is to Lord Timon; this to
	Alcibiades. Go; thou wast born a bastard, and thou't
	die a bawd.

Page	Thou wast whelped a dog, and thou shalt famish a
	dog's death. Answer not; I am gone.

	[Exit]

APEMANTUS	E'en so thou outrunnest grace. Fool, I will go with
	you to Lord Timon's.

Fool	Will you leave me there?

APEMANTUS	If Timon stay at home. You three serve three usurers?

All Servants	Ay; would they served us!

APEMANTUS	So would I,--as good a trick as ever hangman served thief.

Fool	Are you three usurers' men?

All Servants	Ay, fool.

Fool	I think no usurer but has a fool to his servant: my
	mistress is one, and I am her fool. When men come
	to borrow of your masters, they approach sadly, and
	go away merry; but they enter my mistress' house
	merrily, and go away sadly: the reason of this?

Varro's Servant	I could render one.

APEMANTUS	Do it then, that we may account thee a whoremaster
	and a knave; which not-withstanding, thou shalt be
	no less esteemed.

Varro's Servant	What is a whoremaster, fool?

Fool	A fool in good clothes, and something like thee.
	'Tis a spirit: sometime't appears like a lord;
	sometime like a lawyer; sometime like a philosopher,
	with two stones moe than's artificial one: he is
	very often like a knight; and, generally, in all
	shapes that man goes up and down in from fourscore
	to thirteen, this spirit walks in.

Varro's Servant	Thou art not altogether a fool.

Fool	Nor thou altogether a wise man: as much foolery as
	I have, so much wit thou lackest.

APEMANTUS	That answer might have become Apemantus.

All Servants	Aside, aside; here comes Lord Timon.

	[Re-enter TIMON and FLAVIUS]

APEMANTUS	Come with me, fool, come.

Fool	I do not always follow lover, elder brother and
	woman; sometime the philosopher.

	[Exeunt APEMANTUS and Fool]

FLAVIUS	Pray you, walk near: I'll speak with you anon.

	[Exeunt Servants]

TIMON	You make me marvel: wherefore ere this time
	Had you not fully laid my state before me,
	That I might so have rated my expense,
	As I had leave of means?

FLAVIUS	You would not hear me,
	At many leisures I proposed.

TIMON	Go to:
	Perchance some single vantages you took.
	When my indisposition put you back:
	And that unaptness made your minister,
	Thus to excuse yourself.

FLAVIUS	O my good lord,
	At many times I brought in my accounts,
	Laid them before you; you would throw them off,
	And say, you found them in mine honesty.
	When, for some trifling present, you have bid me
	Return so much, I have shook my head and wept;
	Yea, 'gainst the authority of manners, pray'd you
	To hold your hand more close: I did endure
	Not seldom, nor no slight cheques, when I have
	Prompted you in the ebb of your estate
	And your great flow of debts. My loved lord,
	Though you hear now, too late--yet now's a time--
	The greatest of your having lacks a half
	To pay your present debts.

TIMON	Let all my land be sold.

FLAVIUS	'Tis all engaged, some forfeited and gone;
	And what remains will hardly stop the mouth
	Of present dues: the future comes apace:
	What shall defend the interim? and at length
	How goes our reckoning?

TIMON	To Lacedaemon did my land extend.

FLAVIUS	O my good lord, the world is but a word:
	Were it all yours to give it in a breath,
	How quickly were it gone!

TIMON	You tell me true.

FLAVIUS	If you suspect my husbandry or falsehood,
	Call me before the exactest auditors
	And set me on the proof. So the gods bless me,
	When all our offices have been oppress'd
	With riotous feeders, when our vaults have wept
	With drunken spilth of wine, when every room
	Hath blazed with lights and bray'd with minstrelsy,
	I have retired me to a wasteful cock,
	And set mine eyes at flow.

TIMON	Prithee, no more.

FLAVIUS	Heavens, have I said, the bounty of this lord!
	How many prodigal bits have slaves and peasants
	This night englutted! Who is not Timon's?
	What heart, head, sword, force, means, but is
	Lord Timon's?
	Great Timon, noble, worthy, royal Timon!
	Ah, when the means are gone that buy this praise,
	The breath is gone whereof this praise is made:
	Feast-won, fast-lost; one cloud of winter showers,
	These flies are couch'd.

TIMON	Come, sermon me no further:
	No villanous bounty yet hath pass'd my heart;
	Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given.
	Why dost thou weep? Canst thou the conscience lack,
	To think I shall lack friends? Secure thy heart;
	If I would broach the vessels of my love,
	And try the argument of hearts by borrowing,
	Men and men's fortunes could I frankly use
	As I can bid thee speak.

FLAVIUS	Assurance bless your thoughts!

TIMON	And, in some sort, these wants of mine are crown'd,
	That I account them blessings; for by these
	Shall I try friends: you shall perceive how you
	Mistake my fortunes; I am wealthy in my friends.
	Within there! Flaminius! Servilius!

	[Enter FLAMINIUS, SERVILIUS, and other Servants]

Servants	My lord? my lord?

TIMON	I will dispatch you severally; you to Lord Lucius;
	to Lord Lucullus you: I hunted with his honour
	to-day: you, to Sempronius: commend me to their
	loves, and, I am proud, say, that my occasions have
	found time to use 'em toward a supply of money: let
	the request be fifty talents.

FLAMINIUS	As you have said, my lord.

FLAVIUS	[Aside]  Lord Lucius and Lucullus? hum!

TIMON	Go you, sir, to the senators--
	Of whom, even to the state's best health, I have
	Deserved this hearing--bid 'em send o' the instant
	A thousand talents to me.

FLAVIUS	I have been bold--
	For that I knew it the most general way--
	To them to use your signet and your name;
	But they do shake their heads, and I am here
	No richer in return.

TIMON	Is't true? can't be?

FLAVIUS	They answer, in a joint and corporate voice,
	That now they are at fall, want treasure, cannot
	Do what they would; are sorry--you are honourable,--
	But yet they could have wish'd--they know not--
	Something hath been amiss--a noble nature
	May catch a wrench--would all were well--'tis pity;--
	And so, intending other serious matters,
	After distasteful looks and these hard fractions,
	With certain half-caps and cold-moving nods
	They froze me into silence.

TIMON	You gods, reward them!
	Prithee, man, look cheerly. These old fellows
	Have their ingratitude in them hereditary:
	Their blood is caked, 'tis cold, it seldom flows;
	'Tis lack of kindly warmth they are not kind;
	And nature, as it grows again toward earth,
	Is fashion'd for the journey, dull and heavy.

	[To a Servant]

	Go to Ventidius.

	[To FLAVIUS]

	Prithee, be not sad,
	Thou art true and honest; ingeniously I speak.
	No blame belongs to thee.

	[To Servant]

		    Ventidius lately
	Buried his father; by whose death he's stepp'd
	Into a great estate: when he was poor,
	Imprison'd and in scarcity of friends,
	I clear'd him with five talents: greet him from me;
	Bid him suppose some good necessity
	Touches his friend, which craves to be remember'd
	With those five talents.

	[Exit Servant]

	[To FLAVIUS]

		   That had, give't these fellows
	To whom 'tis instant due. Ne'er speak, or think,
	That Timon's fortunes 'mong his friends can sink.

FLAVIUS	I would I could not think it: that thought is
	bounty's foe;
	Being free itself, it thinks all others so.

	[Exeunt]




	TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT III



SCENE I	A room in Lucullus' house.


	[FLAMINIUS waiting. Enter a Servant to him]

Servant	I have told my lord of you; he is coming down to you.

FLAMINIUS	I thank you, sir.

	[Enter LUCULLUS]

Servant	Here's my lord.

LUCULLUS	[Aside]  One of Lord Timon's men? a gift, I
	warrant. Why, this hits right; I dreamt of a silver
	basin and ewer to-night. Flaminius, honest
	Flaminius; you are very respectively welcome, sir.
	Fill me some wine.

	[Exit Servants]

	And how does that honourable, complete, free-hearted
	gentleman of Athens, thy very bountiful good lord
	and master?

FLAMINIUS	His health is well sir.

LUCULLUS	I am right glad that his health is well, sir: and
	what hast thou there under thy cloak, pretty Flaminius?

FLAMINIUS	'Faith, nothing but an empty box, sir; which, in my
	lord's behalf, I come to entreat your honour to
	supply; who, having great and instant occasion to
	use fifty talents, hath sent to your lordship to
	furnish him, nothing doubting your present
	assistance therein.

LUCULLUS	La, la, la, la! 'nothing doubting,' says he? Alas,
	good lord! a noble gentleman 'tis, if he would not
	keep so good a house. Many a time and often I ha'
	dined with him, and told him on't, and come again to
	supper to him, of purpose to have him spend less,
	and yet he would embrace no counsel, take no warning
	by my coming. Every man has his fault, and honesty
	is his: I ha' told him on't, but I could ne'er get
	him from't.

	[Re-enter Servant, with wine]

Servant	Please your lordship, here is the wine.

LUCULLUS	Flaminius, I have noted thee always wise. Here's to thee.

FLAMINIUS	Your lordship speaks your pleasure.

LUCULLUS	I have observed thee always for a towardly prompt
	spirit--give thee thy due--and one that knows what
	belongs to reason; and canst use the time well, if
	the time use thee well: good parts in thee.

	[To Servant]

	Get you gone, sirrah.

	[Exit Servant]

	Draw nearer, honest Flaminius. Thy lord's a
	bountiful gentleman: but thou art wise; and thou
	knowest well enough, although thou comest to me,
	that this is no time to lend money, especially upon
	bare friendship, without security. Here's three
	solidares for thee: good boy, wink at me, and say
	thou sawest me not. Fare thee well.

FLAMINIUS	Is't possible the world should so much differ,
	And we alive that lived? Fly, damned baseness,
	To him that worships thee!

	[Throwing the money back]

LUCULLUS	Ha! now I see thou art a fool, and fit for thy master.

	[Exit]

FLAMINIUS	May these add to the number that may scald thee!
	Let moulten coin be thy damnation,
	Thou disease of a friend, and not himself!
	Has friendship such a faint and milky heart,
	It turns in less than two nights? O you gods,
	I feel master's passion! this slave,
	Unto his honour, has my lord's meat in him:
	Why should it thrive and turn to nutriment,
	When he is turn'd to poison?
	O, may diseases only work upon't!
	And, when he's sick to death, let not that part of nature
	Which my lord paid for, be of any power
	To expel sickness, but prolong his hour!

	[Exit]




	TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT III



SCENE II	A public place.


	[Enter LUCILIUS, with three Strangers]

LUCILIUS	Who, the Lord Timon? he is my very good friend, and
	an honourable gentleman.

First Stranger	We know him for no less, though we are but strangers
	to him. But I can tell you one thing, my lord, and
	which I hear from common rumours: now Lord Timon's
	happy hours are done and past, and his estate
	shrinks from him.

LUCILIUS	Fie, no, do not believe it; he cannot want for money.

Second Stranger	But believe you this, my lord, that, not long ago,
	one of his men was with the Lord Lucullus to borrow
	so many talents, nay, urged extremely for't and
	showed what necessity belonged to't, and yet was denied.

LUCILIUS	How!

Second Stranger	I tell you, denied, my lord.

LUCILIUS	What a strange case was that! now, before the gods,
	I am ashamed on't. Denied that honourable man!
	there was very little honour showed in't. For my own
	part, I must needs confess, I have received some
	small kindnesses from him, as money, plate, jewels
	and such-like trifles, nothing comparing to his;
	yet, had he mistook him and sent to me, I should
	ne'er have denied his occasion so many talents.

	[Enter SERVILIUS]

SERVILIUS	See, by good hap, yonder's my lord;
	I have sweat to see his honour. My honoured lord,--

	[To LUCIUS]

LUCILIUS	Servilius! you are kindly met, sir. Fare thee well:
	commend me to thy honourable virtuous lord, my very
	exquisite friend.

SERVILIUS	May it please your honour, my lord hath sent--

LUCILIUS	Ha! what has he sent? I am so much endeared to
	that lord; he's ever sending: how shall I thank
	him, thinkest thou? And what has he sent now?

SERVILIUS	Has only sent his present occasion now, my lord;
	requesting your lordship to supply his instant use
	with so many talents.

LUCILIUS	I know his lordship is but merry with me;
	He cannot want fifty five hundred talents.

SERVILIUS	But in the mean time he wants less, my lord.
	If his occasion were not virtuous,
	I should not urge it half so faithfully.

LUCILIUS	Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius?

SERVILIUS	Upon my soul,'tis true, sir.

LUCILIUS	What a wicked beast was I to disfurnish myself
	against such a good time, when I might ha' shown
	myself honourable! how unluckily it happened, that I
	should purchase the day before for a little part,
	and undo a great deal of honoured! Servilius, now,
	before the gods, I am not able to do,--the more
	beast, I say:--I was sending to use Lord Timon
	myself, these gentlemen can witness! but I would
	not, for the wealth of Athens, I had done't now.
	Commend me bountifully to his good lordship; and I
	hope his honour will conceive the fairest of me,
	because I have no power to be kind: and tell him
	this from me, I count it one of my greatest
	afflictions, say, that I cannot pleasure such an
	honourable gentleman. Good Servilius, will you
	befriend me so far, as to use mine own words to him?

SERVILIUS	Yes, sir, I shall.

LUCILIUS	I'll look you out a good turn, Servilius.

	[Exit SERVILIUS]

	True as you said, Timon is shrunk indeed;
	And he that's once denied will hardly speed.

	[Exit]

First Stranger	Do you observe this, Hostilius?

Second Stranger	Ay, too well.

First Stranger	Why, this is the world's soul; and just of the
	same piece
	Is every flatterer's spirit. Who can call him
	His friend that dips in the same dish? for, in
	My knowing, Timon has been this lord's father,
	And kept his credit with his purse,
	Supported his estate; nay, Timon's money
	Has paid his men their wages: he ne'er drinks,
	But Timon's silver treads upon his lip;
	And yet--O, see the monstrousness of man
	When he looks out in an ungrateful shape!--
	He does deny him, in respect of his,
	What charitable men afford to beggars.

Third Stranger	Religion groans at it.

First Stranger	For mine own part,
	I never tasted Timon in my life,
	Nor came any of his bounties over me,
	To mark me for his friend; yet, I protest,
	For his right noble mind, illustrious virtue
	And honourable carriage,
	Had his necessity made use of me,
	I would have put my wealth into donation,
	And the best half should have return'd to him,
	So much I love his heart: but, I perceive,
	Men must learn now with pity to dispense;
	For policy sits above conscience.

	[Exeunt]




	TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT III



SCENE III	A room in Sempronius' house.


	[Enter SEMPRONIUS, and a Servant of TIMON's]

SEMPRONIUS	Must he needs trouble me in 't,--hum!--'bove
	all others?
	He might have tried Lord Lucius or Lucullus;
	And now Ventidius is wealthy too,
	Whom he redeem'd from prison: all these
	Owe their estates unto him.

Servant	My lord,
	They have all been touch'd and found base metal, for
	They have au denied him.

SEMPRONIUS	How! have they denied him?
	Has Ventidius and Lucullus denied him?
	And does he send to me? Three? hum!
	It shows but little love or judgment in him:
	Must I be his last refuge! His friends, like
	physicians,
	Thrive, give him over: must I take the cure upon me?
	Has much disgraced me in't; I'm angry at him,
	That might have known my place: I see no sense for't,
	But his occasion might have woo'd me first;
	For, in my conscience, I was the first man
	That e'er received gift from him:
	And does he think so backwardly of me now,
	That I'll requite its last? No:
	So it may prove an argument of laughter
	To the rest, and 'mongst lords I be thought a fool.
	I'ld rather than the worth of thrice the sum,
	Had sent to me first, but for my mind's sake;
	I'd such a courage to do him good. But now return,
	And with their faint reply this answer join;
	Who bates mine honour shall not know my coin.

	[Exit]

Servant	Excellent! Your lordship's a goodly villain. The
	devil knew not what he did when he made man
	politic; he crossed himself by 't: and I cannot
	think but, in the end, the villainies of man will
	set him clear. How fairly this lord strives to
	appear foul! takes virtuous copies to be wicked,
	like those that under hot ardent zeal would set
	whole realms on fire: Of such a nature is his
	politic love.
	This was my lord's best hope; now all are fled,
	Save only the gods: now his friends are dead,
	Doors, that were ne'er acquainted with their wards
	Many a bounteous year must be employ'd
	Now to guard sure their master.
	And this is all a liberal course allows;
	Who cannot keep his wealth must keep his house.

	[Exit]




	TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT III



SCENE IV	The same. A hall in Timon's house.


	[Enter two Servants of Varro, and the Servant of
	LUCIUS, meeting TITUS, HORTENSIUS, and other
	Servants of TIMON's creditors, waiting his coming out]

Varro's
First Servant	Well met; good morrow, Titus and Hortensius.

TITUS	The like to you kind Varro.

HORTENSIUS	Lucius!
	What, do we meet together?

Lucilius' Servant	Ay, and I think
	One business does command us all; for mine Is money.

TITUS	So is theirs and ours.

	[Enter PHILOTUS]

Lucilius' Servant	And Sir Philotus too!

PHILOTUS	Good day at once.

Lucilius' Servant	                  Welcome, good brother.
	What do you think the hour?

PHILOTUS	Labouring for nine.

Lucilius' Servant	So much?

PHILOTUS	Is not my lord seen yet?

Lucilius' Servant	Not yet.

PHILOTUS	I wonder on't; he was wont to shine at seven.

Lucilius' Servant	Ay, but the days are wax'd shorter with him:
	You must consider that a prodigal course
	Is like the sun's; but not, like his, recoverable.
	I fear 'tis deepest winter in Lord Timon's purse;
	That is one may reach deep enough, and yet
	Find little.

PHILOTUS	I am of your fear for that.

TITUS	I'll show you how to observe a strange event.
	Your lord sends now for money.

HORTENSIUS	Most true, he does.

TITUS	And he wears jewels now of Timon's gift,
	For which I wait for money.

HORTENSIUS	It is against my heart.

Lucilius' Servant	Mark, how strange it shows,
	Timon in this should pay more than he owes:
	And e'en as if your lord should wear rich jewels,
	And send for money for 'em.

HORTENSIUS	I'm weary of this charge, the gods can witness:
	I know my lord hath spent of Timon's wealth,
	And now ingratitude makes it worse than stealth.

Varro's
First Servant	Yes, mine's three thousand crowns: what's yours?

Lucilius' Servant	Five thousand mine.

Varro's
First Servant	'Tis much deep: and it should seem by the sun,
	Your master's confidence was above mine;
	Else, surely, his had equall'd.

	Enter FLAMINIUS.

TITUS	One of Lord Timon's men.

Lucilius' Servant	Flaminius! Sir, a word: pray, is my lord ready to
	come forth?

FLAMINIUS	No, indeed, he is not.

TITUS	We attend his lordship; pray, signify so much.

FLAMINIUS	I need not tell him that; he knows you are too diligent.

	[Exit]

	[Enter FLAVIUS in a cloak, muffled]

Lucilius' Servant	Ha! is not that his steward muffled so?
	He goes away in a cloud: call him, call him.

TITUS	Do you hear, sir?

Varro's
Second Servant	By your leave, sir,--

FLAVIUS	What do ye ask of me, my friend?

TITUS	We wait for certain money here, sir.

FLAVIUS	Ay,
	If money were as certain as your waiting,
	'Twere sure enough.
	Why then preferr'd you not your sums and bills,
	When your false masters eat of my lord's meat?
	Then they could smile and fawn upon his debts
	And take down the interest into their
	gluttonous maws.
	You do yourselves but wrong to stir me up;
	Let me pass quietly:
	Believe 't, my lord and I have made an end;
	I have no more to reckon, he to spend.

Lucilius' Servant	Ay, but this answer will not serve.

FLAVIUS	If 'twill not serve,'tis not so base as you;
	For you serve knaves.

	[Exit]

Varro's
First Servant	How! what does his cashiered worship mutter?

Varro's
Second Servant	No matter what; he's poor, and that's revenge
	enough. Who can speak broader than he that has no
	house to put his head in? such may rail against
	great buildings.

	[Enter SERVILIUS]

TITUS	O, here's Servilius; now we shall know some answer.

SERVILIUS	If I might beseech you, gentlemen, to repair some
	other hour, I should derive much from't; for,
	take't of my soul, my lord leans wondrously to
	discontent: his comfortable temper has forsook him;
	he's much out of health, and keeps his chamber.

Lucilius' Servant: Many do keep their chambers are not sick:
	And, if it be so far beyond his health,
	Methinks he should the sooner pay his debts,
	And make a clear way to the gods.

SERVILIUS	Good gods!

TITUS	We cannot take this for answer, sir.

FLAMINIUS	[Within]  Servilius, help! My lord! my lord!

	[Enter TIMON, in a rage, FLAMINIUS following]

TIMON	What, are my doors opposed against my passage?
	Have I been ever free, and must my house
	Be my retentive enemy, my gaol?
	The place which I have feasted, does it now,
	Like all mankind, show me an iron heart?

Lucilius' Servant	Put in now, Titus.

TITUS	My lord, here is my bill.

Lucilius' Servant	Here's mine.

HORTENSIUS	And mine, my lord.

Both
Varro's Servants	And ours, my lord.

PHILOTUS	All our bills.

TIMON	Knock me down with 'em: cleave me to the girdle.

Lucilius' Servant	Alas, my lord,-

TIMON	Cut my heart in sums.

TITUS	Mine, fifty talents.

TIMON	Tell out my blood.

Lucilius' Servant	Five thousand crowns, my lord.

TIMON	Five thousand drops pays that.
	What yours?--and yours?

Varro's
First Servant	My lord,--

Varro's
Second Servant	My lord,--

TIMON	Tear me, take me, and the gods fall upon you!

	[Exit]

HORTENSIUS	'Faith, I perceive our masters may throw their caps
	at their money: these debts may well be called
	desperate ones, for a madman owes 'em.

	[Exeunt]

	[Re-enter TIMON and FLAVIUS]

TIMON	They have e'en put my breath from me, the slaves.
	Creditors? devils!

FLAVIUS	My dear lord,--

TIMON	What if it should be so?

FLAVIUS	My lord,--

TIMON	I'll have it so. My steward!

FLAVIUS	Here, my lord.

TIMON	So fitly? Go, bid all my friends again,
	Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius:
	All, sirrah, all:
	I'll once more feast the rascals.

FLAVIUS	O my lord,
	You only speak from your distracted soul;
	There is not so much left, to furnish out
	A moderate table.

TIMON	                  Be't not in thy care; go,
	I charge thee, invite them all: let in the tide
	Of knaves once more; my cook and I'll provide.

	[Exeunt]




	TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT III



SCENE V	The same. The senate-house. The Senate sitting.


First Senator	My lord, you have my voice to it; the fault's
	Bloody; 'tis necessary he should die:
	Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.

Second Senator	Most true; the law shall bruise him.

	[Enter ALCIBIADES, with Attendants]

ALCIBIADES	Honour, health, and compassion to the senate!

First Senator	Now, captain?

ALCIBIADES	I am an humble suitor to your virtues;
	For pity is the virtue of the law,
	And none but tyrants use it cruelly.
	It pleases time and fortune to lie heavy
	Upon a friend of mine, who, in hot blood,
	Hath stepp'd into the law, which is past depth
	To those that, without heed, do plunge into 't.
	He is a man, setting his fate aside,
	Of comely virtues:
	Nor did he soil the fact with cowardice--
	An honour in him which buys out his fault--
	But with a noble fury and fair spirit,
	Seeing his reputation touch'd to death,
	He did oppose his foe:
	And with such sober and unnoted passion
	He did behave his anger, ere 'twas spent,
	As if he had but proved an argument.

First Senator	You undergo too strict a paradox,
	Striving to make an ugly deed look fair:
	Your words have took such pains as if they labour'd
	To bring manslaughter into form and set quarrelling
	Upon the head of valour; which indeed
	Is valour misbegot and came into the world
	When sects and factions were newly born:
	He's truly valiant that can wisely suffer
	The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs
	His outsides, to wear them like his raiment,
	carelessly,
	And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart,
	To bring it into danger.
	If wrongs be evils and enforce us kill,
	What folly 'tis to hazard life for ill!

ALCIBIADES	My lord,--

First Senator	       You cannot make gross sins look clear:
	To revenge is no valour, but to bear.

ALCIBIADES	My lords, then, under favour, pardon me,
	If I speak like a captain.
	Why do fond men expose themselves to battle,
	And not endure all threats? sleep upon't,
	And let the foes quietly cut their throats,
	Without repugnancy? If there be
	Such valour in the bearing, what make we
	Abroad? why then, women are more valiant
	That stay at home, if bearing carry it,
	And the ass more captain than the lion, the felon
	Loaden with irons wiser than the judge,
	If wisdom be in suffering. O my lords,
	As you are great, be pitifully good:
	Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood?
	To kill, I grant, is sin's extremest gust;
	But, in defence, by mercy, 'tis most just.
	To be in anger is impiety;
	But who is man that is not angry?
	Weigh but the crime with this.

Second Senator	You breathe in vain.

ALCIBIADES	In vain! his service done
	At Lacedaemon and Byzantium
	Were a sufficient briber for his life.

First Senator	What's that?

ALCIBIADES	I say, my lords, he has done fair service,
	And slain in fight many of your enemies:
	How full of valour did he bear himself
	In the last conflict, and made plenteous wounds!

Second Senator	He has made too much plenty with 'em;
	He's a sworn rioter: he has a sin that often
	Drowns him, and takes his valour prisoner:
	If there were no foes, that were enough
	To overcome him: in that beastly fury
	He has been known to commit outrages,
	And cherish factions: 'tis inferr'd to us,
	His days are foul and his drink dangerous.

First Senator	He dies.

ALCIBIADES	Hard fate! he might have died in war.
	My lords, if not for any parts in him--
	Though his right arm might purchase his own time
	And be in debt to none--yet, more to move you,
	Take my deserts to his, and join 'em both:
	And, for I know your reverend ages love
	Security, I'll pawn my victories, all
	My honours to you, upon his good returns.
	If by this crime he owes the law his life,
	Why, let the war receive 't in valiant gore
	For law is strict, and war is nothing more.

First Senator	We are for law: he dies; urge it no more,
	On height of our displeasure: friend or brother,
	He forfeits his own blood that spills another.

ALCIBIADES	Must it be so? it must not be. My lords,
	I do beseech you, know me.

Second Senator	How!

ALCIBIADES	Call me to your remembrances.

Third Senator	What!

ALCIBIADES	I cannot think but your age has forgot me;
	It could not else be, I should prove so base,
	To sue, and be denied such common grace:
	My wounds ache at you.

First Senator	Do you dare our anger?
	'Tis in few words, but spacious in effect;
	We banish thee for ever.

ALCIBIADES	Banish me!
	Banish your dotage; banish usury,
	That makes the senate ugly.

First Senator	If, after two days' shine, Athens contain thee,
	Attend our weightier judgment. And, not to swell
	our spirit,
	He shall be executed presently.

	[Exeunt Senators]

ALCIBIADES	Now the gods keep you old enough; that you may live
	Only in bone, that none may look on you!
	I'm worse than mad: I have kept back their foes,
	While they have told their money and let out
	Their coin upon large interest, I myself
	Rich only in large hurts. All those for this?
	Is this the balsam that the usuring senate
	Pours into captains' wounds? Banishment!
	It comes not ill; I hate not to be banish'd;
	It is a cause worthy my spleen and fury,
	That I may strike at Athens. I'll cheer up
	My discontented troops, and lay for hearts.
	'Tis honour with most lands to be at odds;
	Soldiers should brook as little wrongs as gods.

	[Exit]




	TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT III



SCENE VI	The same. A banqueting-room in Timon's house.


	[Music. Tables set out: Servants attending.
	Enter divers Lords, Senators and others, at
	several doors]

First Lord	The good time of day to you, sir.

Second Lord	I also wish it to you. I think this honourable lord
	did but try us this other day.

First Lord	Upon that were my thoughts tiring, when we
	encountered: I hope it is not so low with him as
	he made it seem in the trial of his several friends.

Second Lord	It should not be, by the persuasion of his new feasting.

First Lord	I should think so: he hath sent me an earnest
	inviting, which many my near occasions did urge me
	to put off; but he hath conjured me beyond them, and
	I must needs appear.

Second Lord	In like manner was I in debt to my importunate
	business, but he would not hear my excuse. I am
	sorry, when he sent to borrow of me, that my
	provision was out.

First Lord	I am sick of that grief too, as I understand how all
	things go.

Second Lord	Every man here's so. What would he have borrowed of
	you?

First Lord	A thousand pieces.

Second Lord	A thousand pieces!

First Lord	What of you?

Second Lord	He sent to me, sir,--Here he comes.

	[Enter TIMON and Attendants]

TIMON	With all my heart, gentlemen both; and how fare you?

First Lord	Ever at the best, hearing well of your lordship.

Second Lord	The swallow follows not summer more willing than we
	your lordship.

TIMON	[Aside]  Nor more willingly leaves winter; such
	summer-birds are men. Gentlemen, our dinner will not
	recompense this long stay: feast your ears with the
	music awhile, if they will fare so harshly o' the
	trumpet's sound; we shall to 't presently.

First Lord	I hope it remains not unkindly with your lordship
	that I returned you an empty messenger.

TIMON	O, sir, let it not trouble you.

Second Lord	My noble lord,--

TIMON	Ah, my good friend, what cheer?

Second Lord	My most honourable lord, I am e'en sick of shame,
	that, when your lordship this other day sent to me,
	I was so unfortunate a beggar.

TIMON	Think not on 't, sir.

Second Lord	If you had sent but two hours before,--

TIMON	Let it not cumber your better remembrance.

	[The banquet brought in]

	Come, bring in all together.

Second Lord	All covered dishes!

First Lord	Royal cheer, I warrant you.

Third Lord	Doubt not that, if money and the season can yield
	it.

First Lord	How do you? What's the news?

Third Lord	Alcibiades is banished: hear you of it?


First Lord	|
	|  Alcibiades banished!
Second Lord	|


Third Lord	'Tis so, be sure of it.

First Lord	How! how!

Second Lord	I pray you, upon what?

TIMON	My worthy friends, will you draw near?

Third Lord	I'll tell you more anon. Here's a noble feast toward.

Second Lord	This is the old man still.

Third Lord	Will 't hold? will 't hold?

Second Lord	It does: but time will--and so--

Third Lord	I do conceive.

TIMON	Each man to his stool, with that spur as he would to
	the lip of his mistress: your diet shall be in all
	places alike. Make not a city feast of it, to let
	the meat cool ere we can agree upon the first place:
	sit, sit. The gods require our thanks.

	You great benefactors, sprinkle our society with
	thankfulness. For your own gifts, make yourselves
	praised: but reserve still to give, lest your
	deities be despised. Lend to each man enough, that
	one need not lend to another; for, were your
	godheads to borrow of men, men would forsake the
	gods. Make the meat be beloved more than the man
	that gives it. Let no assembly of twenty be without
	a score of villains: if there sit twelve women at
	the table, let a dozen of them be--as they are. The
	rest of your fees, O gods--the senators of Athens,
	together with the common lag of people--what is
	amiss in them, you gods, make suitable for
	destruction. For these my present friends, as they
	are to me nothing, so in nothing bless them, and to
	nothing are they welcome.

	Uncover, dogs, and lap.

	[The dishes are uncovered and seen to be full of
	warm water]

Some Speak	What does his lordship mean?

Some Others	I know not.

TIMON	May you a better feast never behold,
	You knot of mouth-friends I smoke and lukewarm water
	Is your perfection. This is Timon's last;
	Who, stuck and spangled with your flatteries,
	Washes it off, and sprinkles in your faces
	Your reeking villany.

	[Throwing the water in their faces]

		Live loathed and long,
	Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites,
	Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears,
	You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time's flies,
	Cap and knee slaves, vapours, and minute-jacks!
	Of man and beast the infinite malady
	Crust you quite o'er! What, dost thou go?
	Soft! take thy physic first--thou too--and thou;--
	Stay, I will lend thee money, borrow none.

	[Throws the dishes at them, and drives them out]

	What, all in motion? Henceforth be no feast,
	Whereat a villain's not a welcome guest.
	Burn, house! sink, Athens! henceforth hated be
	Of Timon man and all humanity!

	[Exit]

	[Re-enter the Lords, Senators, &c]

First Lord	How now, my lords!

Second Lord	Know you the quality of Lord Timon's fury?

Third Lord	Push! did you see my cap?

Fourth Lord	I have lost my gown.

First Lord	He's but a mad lord, and nought but humour sways him.
	He gave me a jewel th' other day, and now he has
	beat it out of my hat: did you see my jewel?

Third Lord	Did you see my cap?

Second Lord	Here 'tis.

Fourth Lord	Here lies my gown.

First Lord	Let's make no stay.

Second Lord	Lord Timon's mad.

Third Lord	I feel 't upon my bones.

Fourth Lord	One day he gives us diamonds, next day stones.

	[Exeunt]




	TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT IV



SCENE I	Without the walls of Athens.


	[Enter TIMON]

TIMON	Let me look back upon thee. O thou wall,
	That girdlest in those wolves, dive in the earth,
	And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn incontinent!
	Obedience fail in children! slaves and fools,
	Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the bench,
	And minister in their steads! to general filths
	Convert o' the instant, green virginity,
	Do 't in your parents' eyes! bankrupts, hold fast;
	Rather than render back, out with your knives,
	And cut your trusters' throats! bound servants, steal!
	Large-handed robbers your grave masters are,
	And pill by law. Maid, to thy master's bed;
	Thy mistress is o' the brothel! Son of sixteen,
	pluck the lined crutch from thy old limping sire,
	With it beat out his brains! Piety, and fear,
	Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth,
	Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood,
	Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades,
	Degrees, observances, customs, and laws,
	Decline to your confounding contraries,
	And let confusion live! Plagues, incident to men,
	Your potent and infectious fevers heap
	On Athens, ripe for stroke! Thou cold sciatica,
	Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt
	As lamely as their manners. Lust and liberty
	Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth,
	That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive,
	And drown themselves in riot! Itches, blains,
	Sow all the Athenian bosoms; and their crop
	Be general leprosy! Breath infect breath,
	at their society, as their friendship, may
	merely poison! Nothing I'll bear from thee,
	But nakedness, thou detestable town!
	Take thou that too, with multiplying bans!
	Timon will to the woods; where he shall find
	The unkindest beast more kinder than mankind.
	The gods confound--hear me, you good gods all--
	The Athenians both within and out that wall!
	And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow
	To the whole race of mankind, high and low! Amen.

	[Exit]




	TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT IV



SCENE II	Athens. A room in Timon's house.


	[Enter FLAVIUS, with two or three Servants]

First Servant	Hear you, master steward, where's our master?
	Are we undone? cast off? nothing remaining?

FLAVIUS	Alack, my fellows, what should I say to you?
	Let me be recorded by the righteous gods,
	I am as poor as you.

First Servant	Such a house broke!
	So noble a master fall'n! All gone! and not
	One friend to take his fortune by the arm,
	And go along with him!

Second Servant	As we do turn our backs
	From our companion thrown into his grave,
	So his familiars to his buried fortunes
	Slink all away, leave their false vows with him,
	Like empty purses pick'd; and his poor self,
	A dedicated beggar to the air,
	With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty,
	Walks, like contempt, alone. More of our fellows.

	[Enter other Servants]

FLAVIUS	All broken implements of a ruin'd house.

Third Servant	Yet do our hearts wear Timon's livery;
	That see I by our faces; we are fellows still,
	Serving alike in sorrow: leak'd is our bark,
	And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck,
	Hearing the surges threat: we must all part
	Into this sea of air.

FLAVIUS	Good fellows all,
	The latest of my wealth I'll share amongst you.
	Wherever we shall meet, for Timon's sake,
	Let's yet be fellows; let's shake our heads, and say,
	As 'twere a knell unto our master's fortunes,
	'We have seen better days.' Let each take some;
	Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word more:
	Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor.

	[Servants embrace, and part several ways]

	O, the fierce wretchedness that glory brings us!
	Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt,
	Since riches point to misery and contempt?
	Who would be so mock'd with glory? or to live
	But in a dream of friendship?
	To have his pomp and all what state compounds
	But only painted, like his varnish'd friends?
	Poor honest lord, brought low by his own heart,
	Undone by goodness! Strange, unusual blood,
	When man's worst sin is, he does too much good!
	Who, then, dares to be half so kind again?
	For bounty, that makes gods, does still mar men.
	My dearest lord, bless'd, to be most accursed,
	Rich, only to be wretched, thy great fortunes
	Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord!
	He's flung in rage from this ingrateful seat
	Of monstrous friends, nor has he with him to
	Supply his life, or that which can command it.
	I'll follow and inquire him out:
	I'll ever serve his mind with my best will;
	Whilst I have gold, I'll be his steward still.

	[Exit]




	TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT IV



SCENE III	Woods and cave, near the seashore.


	[Enter TIMON, from the cave]

	O blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth
	Rotten humidity; below thy sister's orb
	Infect the air! Twinn'd brothers of one womb,
	Whose procreation, residence, and birth,
	Scarce is dividant, touch them with several fortunes;
	The greater scorns the lesser: not nature,
	To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune,
	But by contempt of nature.
	Raise me this beggar, and deny 't that lord;
	The senator shall bear contempt hereditary,
	The beggar native honour.
	It is the pasture lards the rother's sides,
	The want that makes him lean. Who dares, who dares,
	In purity of manhood stand upright,
	And say 'This man's a flatterer?' if one be,
	So are they all; for every grise of fortune
	Is smooth'd by that below: the learned pate
	Ducks to the golden fool: all is oblique;
	There's nothing level in our cursed natures,
	But direct villany. Therefore, be abhorr'd
	All feasts, societies, and throngs of men!
	His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains:
	Destruction fang mankind! Earth, yield me roots!

	[Digging]

	Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate
	With thy most operant poison! What is here?
	Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods,
	I am no idle votarist: roots, you clear heavens!
	Thus much of this will make black white, foul fair,
	Wrong right, base noble, old young, coward valiant.
	Ha, you gods! why this? what this, you gods? Why, this
	Will lug your priests and servants from your sides,
	Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads:
	This yellow slave
	Will knit and break religions, bless the accursed,
	Make the hoar leprosy adored, place thieves
	And give them title, knee and approbation
	With senators on the bench: this is it
	That makes the wappen'd widow wed again;
	She, whom the spital-house and ulcerous sores
	Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices
	To the April day again. Come, damned earth,
	Thou common whore of mankind, that put'st odds
	Among the route of nations, I will make thee
	Do thy right nature.

	[March afar off]

		Ha! a drum? Thou'rt quick,
	But yet I'll bury thee: thou'lt go, strong thief,
	When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand.
	Nay, stay thou out for earnest.

	[Keeping some gold]

	[Enter ALCIBIADES, with drum and fife, in
	warlike manner; PHRYNIA and TIMANDRA]

ALCIBIADES	What art thou there? speak.

TIMON	A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw thy heart,
	For showing me again the eyes of man!

ALCIBIADES	What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee,
	That art thyself a man?

TIMON	I am Misanthropos, and hate mankind.
	For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,
	That I might love thee something.

ALCIBIADES	I know thee well;
	But in thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange.

TIMON	I know thee too; and more than that I know thee,
	I not desire to know. Follow thy drum;
	With man's blood paint the ground, gules, gules:
	Religious canons, civil laws are cruel;
	Then what should war be? This fell whore of thine
	Hath in her more destruction than thy sword,
	For all her cherubim look.

PHRYNIA	Thy lips rot off!

TIMON	I will not kiss thee; then the rot returns
	To thine own lips again.

ALCIBIADES	How came the noble Timon to this change?

TIMON	As the moon does, by wanting light to give:
	But then renew I could not, like the moon;
	There were no suns to borrow of.

ALCIBIADES	Noble Timon,
	What friendship may I do thee?

TIMON	None, but to
	Maintain my opinion.

ALCIBIADES	What is it, Timon?

TIMON	Promise me friendship, but perform none: if thou
	wilt not promise, the gods plague thee, for thou art
	a man! if thou dost perform, confound thee, for
	thou art a man!

ALCIBIADES	I have heard in some sort of thy miseries.

TIMON	Thou saw'st them, when I had prosperity.

ALCIBIADES	I see them now; then was a blessed time.

TIMON	As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots.

TIMANDRA	Is this the Athenian minion, whom the world
	Voiced so regardfully?

TIMON	Art thou Timandra?

TIMANDRA	Yes.

TIMON	Be a whore still: they love thee not that use thee;
	Give them diseases, leaving with thee their lust.
	Make use of thy salt hours: season the slaves
	For tubs and baths; bring down rose-cheeked youth
	To the tub-fast and the diet.

TIMANDRA	Hang thee, monster!

ALCIBIADES	Pardon him, sweet Timandra; for his wits
	Are drown'd and lost in his calamities.
	I have but little gold of late, brave Timon,
	The want whereof doth daily make revolt
	In my penurious band: I have heard, and grieved,
	How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth,
	Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour states,
	But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them,--

TIMON	I prithee, beat thy drum, and get thee gone.

ALCIBIADES	I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon.

TIMON	How dost thou pity him whom thou dost trouble?
	I had rather be alone.

ALCIBIADES	Why, fare thee well:
	Here is some gold for thee.

TIMON	Keep it, I cannot eat it.

ALCIBIADES	When I have laid proud Athens on a heap,--

TIMON	Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens?

ALCIBIADES	Ay, Timon, and have cause.

TIMON	The gods confound them all in thy conquest;
	And thee after, when thou hast conquer'd!

ALCIBIADES	Why me, Timon?

TIMON	                  That, by killing of villains,
	Thou wast born to conquer my country.
	Put up thy gold: go on,--here's gold,--go on;
	Be as a planetary plague, when Jove
	Will o'er some high-viced city hang his poison
	In the sick air: let not thy sword skip one:
	Pity not honour'd age for his white beard;
	He is an usurer: strike me the counterfeit matron;
	It is her habit only that is honest,
	Herself's a bawd: let not the virgin's cheek
	Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk-paps,
	That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes,
	Are not within the leaf of pity writ,
	But set them down horrible traitors: spare not the babe,
	Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy;
	Think it a bastard, whom the oracle
	Hath doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall cut,
	And mince it sans remorse: swear against objects;
	Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes;
	Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes,
	Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding,
	Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay soldiers:
	Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent,
	Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone.

ALCIBIADES	Hast thou gold yet? I'll take the gold thou
	givest me,
	Not all thy counsel.

TIMON	Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's curse
	upon thee!


PHRYNIA	|
	|  Give us some gold, good Timon: hast thou more?
TIMANDRA	|


TIMON	Enough to make a whore forswear her trade,
	And to make whores, a bawd. Hold up, you sluts,
	Your aprons mountant: you are not oathable,
	Although, I know, you 'll swear, terribly swear
	Into strong shudders and to heavenly agues
	The immortal gods that hear you,--spare your oaths,
	I'll trust to your conditions: be whores still;
	And he whose pious breath seeks to convert you,
	Be strong in whore, allure him, burn him up;
	Let your close fire predominate his smoke,
	And be no turncoats: yet may your pains, six months,
	Be quite contrary: and thatch your poor thin roofs
	With burthens of the dead;--some that were hang'd,
	No matter:--wear them, betray with them: whore still;
	Paint till a horse may mire upon your face,
	A pox of wrinkles!


PHRYNIA	|
	|  Well, more gold: what then?
TIMANDRA	|   Believe't, that we'll do any thing for gold.


TIMON	Consumptions sow
	In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins,
	And mar men's spurring. Crack the lawyer's voice,
	That he may never more false title plead,
	Nor sound his quillets shrilly: hoar the flamen,
	That scolds against the quality of flesh,
	And not believes himself: down with the nose,
	Down with it flat; take the bridge quite away
	Of him that, his particular to foresee,
	Smells from the general weal: make curl'd-pate
	ruffians bald;
	And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war
	Derive some pain from you: plague all;
	That your activity may defeat and quell
	The source of all erection. There's more gold:
	Do you damn others, and let this damn you,
	And ditches grave you all!


PHRYNIA	|
	|  More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon.
TIMANDRA	|


TIMON	More whore, more mischief first; I have given you earnest.

ALCIBIADES	Strike up the drum towards Athens! Farewell, Timon:
	If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again.

TIMON	If I hope well, I'll never see thee more.

ALCIBIADES	I never did thee harm.

TIMON	Yes, thou spokest well of me.

ALCIBIADES	Call'st thou that harm?

TIMON	Men daily find it. Get thee away, and take
	Thy beagles with thee.

ALCIBIADES	We but offend him. Strike!

	[Drum beats. Exeunt ALCIBIADES, PHRYNIA,
	and TIMANDRA]

TIMON	That nature, being sick of man's unkindness,
	Should yet be hungry! Common mother, thou,

	[Digging]

	Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast,
	Teems, and feeds all; whose self-same mettle,
	Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puff'd,
	Engenders the black toad and adder blue,
	The gilded newt and eyeless venom'd worm,
	With all the abhorred births below crisp heaven
	Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine;
	Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate,
	From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root!
	Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb,
	Let it no more bring out ingrateful man!
	Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears;
	Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face
	Hath to the marbled mansion all above
	Never presented!--O, a root,--dear thanks!--
	Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas;
	Whereof ungrateful man, with liquorish draughts
	And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind,
	That from it all consideration slips!

	[Enter APEMANTUS]

	More man? plague, plague!

APEMANTUS	I was directed hither: men report
	Thou dost affect my manners, and dost use them.

TIMON	'Tis, then, because thou dost not keep a dog,
	Whom I would imitate: consumption catch thee!

APEMANTUS	This is in thee a nature but infected;
	A poor unmanly melancholy sprung
	From change of fortune. Why this spade? this place?
	This slave-like habit? and these looks of care?
	Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft;
	Hug their diseased perfumes, and have forgot
	That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods,
	By putting on the cunning of a carper.
	Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive
	By that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee,
	And let his very breath, whom thou'lt observe,
	Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain,
	And call it excellent: thou wast told thus;
	Thou gavest thine ears like tapsters that bid welcome
	To knaves and all approachers: 'tis most just
	That thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again,
	Rascals should have 't. Do not assume my likeness.

TIMON	Were I like thee, I'ld throw away myself.

APEMANTUS	Thou hast cast away thyself, being like thyself;
	A madman so long, now a fool. What, think'st
	That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain,
	Will put thy shirt on warm? will these moss'd trees,
	That have outlived the eagle, page thy heels,
	And skip where thou point'st out? will the
	cold brook,
	Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste,
	To cure thy o'er-night's surfeit? Call the creatures
	Whose naked natures live in an the spite
	Of wreakful heaven, whose bare unhoused trunks,
	To the conflicting elements exposed,
	Answer mere nature; bid them flatter thee;
	O, thou shalt find--

TIMON	A fool of thee: depart.

APEMANTUS	I love thee better now than e'er I did.

TIMON	I hate thee worse.

APEMANTUS	                  Why?

TIMON	Thou flatter'st misery.

APEMANTUS	I flatter not; but say thou art a caitiff.

TIMON	Why dost thou seek me out?

APEMANTUS	To vex thee.

TIMON	Always a villain's office or a fool's.
	Dost please thyself in't?

APEMANTUS	Ay.

TIMON	What! a knave too?

APEMANTUS	If thou didst put this sour-cold habit on
	To castigate thy pride, 'twere well: but thou
	Dost it enforcedly; thou'ldst courtier be again,
	Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery
	Outlives encertain pomp, is crown'd before:
	The one is filling still, never complete;
	The other, at high wish: best state, contentless,
	Hath a distracted and most wretched being,
	Worse than the worst, content.
	Thou shouldst desire to die, being miserable.

TIMON	Not by his breath that is more miserable.
	Thou art a slave, whom Fortune's tender arm
	With favour never clasp'd; but bred a dog.
	Hadst thou, like us from our first swath, proceeded
	The sweet degrees that this brief world affords
	To such as may the passive drugs of it
	Freely command, thou wouldst have plunged thyself
	In general riot; melted down thy youth
	In different beds of lust; and never learn'd
	The icy precepts of respect, but follow'd
	The sugar'd game before thee. But myself,
	Who had the world as my confectionary,
	The mouths, the tongues, the eyes and hearts of men
	At duty, more than I could frame employment,
	That numberless upon me stuck as leaves
	Do on the oak, hive with one winter's brush
	Fell from their boughs and left me open, bare
	For every storm that blows: I, to bear this,
	That never knew but better, is some burden:
	Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time
	Hath made thee hard in't. Why shouldst thou hate men?
	They never flatter'd thee: what hast thou given?
	If thou wilt curse, thy father, that poor rag,
	Must be thy subject, who in spite put stuff
	To some she beggar and compounded thee
	Poor rogue hereditary. Hence, be gone!
	If thou hadst not been born the worst of men,
	Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer.

APEMANTUS	Art thou proud yet?

TIMON	Ay, that I am not thee.

APEMANTUS	I, that I was
	No prodigal.

TIMON	                  I, that I am one now:
	Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee,
	I'ld give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone.
	That the whole life of Athens were in this!
	Thus would I eat it.

	[Eating a root]

APEMANTUS	Here; I will mend thy feast.

	[Offering him a root]

TIMON	First mend my company, take away thyself.

APEMANTUS	So I shall mend mine own, by the lack of thine.

TIMON	'Tis not well mended so, it is but botch'd;
	if not, I would it were.

APEMANTUS	What wouldst thou have to Athens?

TIMON	Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt,
	Tell them there I have gold; look, so I have.

APEMANTUS	Here is no use for gold.

TIMON	The best and truest;
	For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm.

APEMANTUS	Where liest o' nights, Timon?

TIMON	Under that's above me.
	Where feed'st thou o' days, Apemantus?

APEMANTUS	Where my stomach finds meat; or, rather, where I eat
	it.

TIMON	Would poison were obedient and knew my mind!

APEMANTUS	Where wouldst thou send it?

TIMON	To sauce thy dishes.

APEMANTUS	The middle of humanity thou never knewest, but the
	extremity of both ends: when thou wast in thy gilt
	and thy perfume, they mocked thee for too much
	curiosity; in thy rags thou knowest none, but art
	despised for the contrary. There's a medlar for
	thee, eat it.

TIMON	On what I hate I feed not.

APEMANTUS	Dost hate a medlar?

TIMON	Ay, though it look like thee.

APEMANTUS	An thou hadst hated meddlers sooner, thou shouldst
	have loved thyself better now. What man didst thou
	ever know unthrift that was beloved after his means?

TIMON	Who, without those means thou talkest of, didst thou
	ever know beloved?

APEMANTUS	Myself.

TIMON	I understand thee; thou hadst some means to keep a
	dog.

APEMANTUS	What things in the world canst thou nearest compare
	to thy flatterers?

TIMON	Women nearest; but men, men are the things
	themselves. What wouldst thou do with the world,
	Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?

APEMANTUS	Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men.

TIMON	Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the confusion of
	men, and remain a beast with the beasts?

APEMANTUS	Ay, Timon.

TIMON	A beastly ambition, which the gods grant thee t'
	attain to! If thou wert the lion, the fox would
	beguile thee; if thou wert the lamb, the fox would
	eat three: if thou wert the fox, the lion would
	suspect thee, when peradventure thou wert accused by
	the ass: if thou wert the ass, thy dulness would
	torment thee, and still thou livedst but as a
	breakfast to the wolf: if thou wert the wolf, thy
	greediness would afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst
	hazard thy life for thy dinner: wert thou the
	unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee and
	make thine own self the conquest of thy fury: wert
	thou a bear, thou wouldst be killed by the horse:
	wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be seized by the
	leopard: wert thou a leopard, thou wert german to
	the lion and the spots of thy kindred were jurors on
	thy life: all thy safety were remotion and thy
	defence absence. What beast couldst thou be, that
	were not subject to a beast? and what a beast art
	thou already, that seest not thy loss in
	transformation!

APEMANTUS	If thou couldst please me with speaking to me, thou
	mightst have hit upon it here: the commonwealth of
	Athens is become a forest of beasts.

TIMON	How has the ass broke the wall, that thou art out of the city?

APEMANTUS	Yonder comes a poet and a painter: the plague of
	company light upon thee! I will fear to catch it
	and give way: when I know not what else to do, I'll
	see thee again.

TIMON	When there is nothing living but thee, thou shalt be
	welcome. I had rather be a beggar's dog than Apemantus.

APEMANTUS	Thou art the cap of all the fools alive.

TIMON	Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon!

APEMANTUS	A plague on thee! thou art too bad to curse.

TIMON	All villains that do stand by thee are pure.

APEMANTUS	There is no leprosy but what thou speak'st.

TIMON	If I name thee.
	I'll beat thee, but I should infect my hands.

APEMANTUS	I would my tongue could rot them off!

TIMON	Away, thou issue of a mangy dog!
	Choler does kill me that thou art alive;
	I swound to see thee.

APEMANTUS	Would thou wouldst burst!

TIMON	Away,
	Thou tedious rogue! I am sorry I shall lose
	A stone by thee.

	[Throws a stone at him]

APEMANTUS	                  Beast!

TIMON	Slave!

APEMANTUS	Toad!

TIMON	Rogue, rogue, rogue!
	I am sick of this false world, and will love nought
	But even the mere necessities upon 't.
	Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave;
	Lie where the light foam the sea may beat
	Thy grave-stone daily: make thine epitaph,
	That death in me at others' lives may laugh.

	[To the gold]

	O thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce
	'Twixt natural son and sire! thou bright defiler
	Of Hymen's purest bed! thou valiant Mars!
	Thou ever young, fresh, loved and delicate wooer,
	Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow
	That lies on Dian's lap! thou visible god,
	That solder'st close impossibilities,
	And makest them kiss! that speak'st with
	every tongue,
	To every purpose! O thou touch of hearts!
	Think, thy slave man rebels, and by thy virtue
	Set them into confounding odds, that beasts
	May have the world in empire!

APEMANTUS	Would 'twere so!
	But not till I am dead. I'll say thou'st gold:
	Thou wilt be throng'd to shortly.

TIMON	Throng'd to!

APEMANTUS	Ay.

TIMON	Thy back, I prithee.

APEMANTUS	Live, and love thy misery.

TIMON	Long live so, and so die.

	[Exit APEMANTUS]

		    I am quit.
	Moe things like men! Eat, Timon, and abhor them.

	[Enter Banditti]

First Bandit	Where should he have this gold? It is some poor
	fragment, some slender sort of his remainder: the
	mere want of gold, and the falling-from of his
	friends, drove him into this melancholy.

Second Bandit	It is noised he hath a mass of treasure.

Third Bandit	Let us make the assay upon him: if he care not
	for't, he will supply us easily; if he covetously
	reserve it, how shall's get it?

Second Bandit	True; for he bears it not about him, 'tis hid.

First Bandit	Is not this he?

Banditti	Where?

Second Bandit	'Tis his description.

Third Bandit	He; I know him.

Banditti	Save thee, Timon.

TIMON	Now, thieves?

Banditti	Soldiers, not thieves.

TIMON	Both too; and women's sons.

Banditti	We are not thieves, but men that much do want.

TIMON	Your greatest want is, you want much of meat.
	Why should you want? Behold, the earth hath roots;
	Within this mile break forth a hundred springs;
	The oaks bear mast, the briers scarlet hips;
	The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush
	Lays her full mess before you. Want! why want?

First Bandit	We cannot live on grass, on berries, water,
	As beasts and birds and fishes.

TIMON	Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and fishes;
	You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con
	That you are thieves profess'd, that you work not
	In holier shapes: for there is boundless theft
	In limited professions. Rascal thieves,
	Here's gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o' the grape,
	Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth,
	And so 'scape hanging: trust not the physician;
	His antidotes are poison, and he slays
	Moe than you rob: take wealth and lives together;
	Do villany, do, since you protest to do't,
	Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery.
	The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction
	Robs the vast sea: the moon's an arrant thief,
	And her pale fire she snatches from the sun:
	The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves
	The moon into salt tears: the earth's a thief,
	That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen
	From general excrement: each thing's a thief:
	The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power
	Have uncheque'd theft. Love not yourselves: away,
	Rob one another. There's more gold. Cut throats:
	All that you meet are thieves: to Athens go,
	Break open shops; nothing can you steal,
	But thieves do lose it: steal no less for this
	I give you; and gold confound you howsoe'er! Amen.

Third Bandit	Has almost charmed me from my profession, by
	persuading me to it.

First Bandit	'Tis in the malice of mankind that he thus advises
	us; not to have us thrive in our mystery.

Second Bandit	I'll believe him as an enemy, and give over my trade.

First Bandit	Let us first see peace in Athens: there is no time
	so miserable but a man may be true.

	[Exeunt Banditti]

	[Enter FLAVIUS]

FLAVIUS	O you gods!
	Is yond despised and ruinous man my lord?
	Full of decay and failing? O monument
	And wonder of good deeds evilly bestow'd!
	What an alteration of honour
	Has desperate want made!
	What viler thing upon the earth than friends
	Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends!
	How rarely does it meet with this time's guise,
	When man was wish'd to love his enemies!
	Grant I may ever love, and rather woo
	Those that would mischief me than those that do!
	Has caught me in his eye: I will present
	My honest grief unto him; and, as my lord,
	Still serve him with my life. My dearest master!

TIMON	Away! what art thou?

FLAVIUS	Have you forgot me, sir?

TIMON	Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men;
	Then, if thou grant'st thou'rt a man, I have forgot thee.

FLAVIUS	An honest poor servant of yours.

TIMON	Then I know thee not:
	I never had honest man about me, I; all
	I kept were knaves, to serve in meat to villains.

FLAVIUS	The gods are witness,
	Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief
	For his undone lord than mine eyes for you.

TIMON	What, dost thou weep? Come nearer. Then I
	love thee,
	Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st
	Flinty mankind; whose eyes do never give
	But thorough lust and laughter. Pity's sleeping:
	Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with weeping!

FLAVIUS	I beg of you to know me, good my lord,
	To accept my grief and whilst this poor wealth lasts
	To entertain me as your steward still.

TIMON	Had I a steward
	So true, so just, and now so comfortable?
	It almost turns my dangerous nature mild.
	Let me behold thy face. Surely, this man
	Was born of woman.
	Forgive my general and exceptless rashness,
	You perpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim
	One honest man--mistake me not--but one;
	No more, I pray,--and he's a steward.
	How fain would I have hated all mankind!
	And thou redeem'st thyself: but all, save thee,
	I fell with curses.
	Methinks thou art more honest now than wise;
	For, by oppressing and betraying me,
	Thou mightst have sooner got another service:
	For many so arrive at second masters,
	Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me true--
	For I must ever doubt, though ne'er so sure--
	Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous,
	If not a usuring kindness, and, as rich men deal gifts,
	Expecting in return twenty for one?

FLAVIUS	No, my most worthy master; in whose breast
	Doubt and suspect, alas, are placed too late:
	You should have fear'd false times when you did feast:
	Suspect still comes where an estate is least.
	That which I show, heaven knows, is merely love,
	Duty and zeal to your unmatched mind,
	Care of your food and living; and, believe it,
	My most honour'd lord,
	For any benefit that points to me,
	Either in hope or present, I'ld exchange
	For this one wish, that you had power and wealth
	To requite me, by making rich yourself.

TIMON	Look thee, 'tis so! Thou singly honest man,
	Here, take: the gods out of my misery
	Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy;
	But thus condition'd: thou shalt build from men;
	Hate all, curse all, show charity to none,
	But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone,
	Ere thou relieve the beggar; give to dogs
	What thou deny'st to men; let prisons swallow 'em,
	Debts wither 'em to nothing; be men like
	blasted woods,
	And may diseases lick up their false bloods!
	And so farewell and thrive.

FLAVIUS	O, let me stay,
	And comfort you, my master.

TIMON	If thou hatest curses,
	Stay not; fly, whilst thou art blest and free:
	Ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee.

	[Exit FLAVIUS. TIMON retires to his cave]




	TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT V



SCENE I	The woods. Before Timon's cave.


	[Enter Poet and Painter; TIMON watching
	them from his cave]

Painter	As I took note of the place, it cannot be far where
	he abides.

Poet	What's to be thought of him? does the rumour hold
	for true, that he's so full of gold?

Painter	Certain: Alcibiades reports it; Phrynia and
	Timandra had gold of him: he likewise enriched poor
	straggling soldiers with great quantity: 'tis said
	he gave unto his steward a mighty sum.

Poet	Then this breaking of his has been but a try for his friends.

Painter	Nothing else: you shall see him a palm in Athens
	again, and flourish with the highest. Therefore
	'tis not amiss we tender our loves to him, in this
	supposed distress of his: it will show honestly in
	us; and is very likely to load our purposes with
	what they travail for, if it be a just true report
	that goes of his having.

Poet	What have you now to present unto him?

Painter	Nothing at this time but my visitation: only I will
	promise him an excellent piece.

Poet	I must serve him so too, tell him of an intent
	that's coming toward him.

Painter	Good as the best. Promising is the very air o' the
	time: it opens the eyes of expectation:
	performance is ever the duller for his act; and,
	but in the plainer and simpler kind of people, the
	deed of saying is quite out of use. To promise is
	most courtly and fashionable: performance is a kind
	of will or testament which argues a great sickness
	in his judgment that makes it.

	[TIMON comes from his cave, behind]

TIMON	[Aside]  Excellent workman! thou canst not paint a
	man so bad as is thyself.

Poet	I am thinking what I shall say I have provided for
	him: it must be a personating of himself; a satire
	against the softness of prosperity, with a discovery
	of the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency.

TIMON	[Aside]  Must thou needs stand for a villain in
	thine own work? wilt thou whip thine own faults in
	other men? Do so, I have gold for thee.

Poet	Nay, let's seek him:
	Then do we sin against our own estate,
	When we may profit meet, and come too late.

Painter	True;
	When the day serves, before black-corner'd night,
	Find what thou want'st by free and offer'd light. Come.

TIMON	[Aside]  I'll meet you at the turn. What a
	god's gold,
	That he is worshipp'd in a baser temple
	Than where swine feed!
	'Tis thou that rigg'st the bark and plough'st the foam,
	Settlest admired reverence in a slave:
	To thee be worship! and thy saints for aye
	Be crown'd with plagues that thee alone obey!
	Fit I meet them.

	[Coming forward]

Poet	Hail, worthy Timon!

Painter	Our late noble master!

TIMON	Have I once lived to see two honest men?

Poet	Sir,
	Having often of your open bounty tasted,
	Hearing you were retired, your friends fall'n off,
	Whose thankless natures--O abhorred spirits!--
	Not all the whips of heaven are large enough:
	What! to you,
	Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influence
	To their whole being! I am rapt and cannot cover
	The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude
	With any size of words.

TIMON	Let it go naked, men may see't the better:
	You that are honest, by being what you are,
	Make them best seen and known.

Painter	He and myself
	Have travail'd in the great shower of your gifts,
	And sweetly felt it.

TIMON	Ay, you are honest men.

Painter	We are hither come to offer you our service.

TIMON	Most honest men! Why, how shall I requite you?
	Can you eat roots, and drink cold water? no.

Both	What we can do, we'll do, to do you service.

TIMON	Ye're honest men: ye've heard that I have gold;
	I am sure you have: speak truth; ye're honest men.

Painter	So it is said, my noble lord; but therefore
	Came not my friend nor I.

TIMON	Good honest men! Thou draw'st a counterfeit
	Best in all Athens: thou'rt, indeed, the best;
	Thou counterfeit'st most lively.

Painter	So, so, my lord.

TIMON	E'en so, sir, as I say. And, for thy fiction,
	Why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth
	That thou art even natural in thine art.
	But, for all this, my honest-natured friends,
	I must needs say you have a little fault:
	Marry, 'tis not monstrous in you, neither wish I
	You take much pains to mend.

Both	Beseech your honour
	To make it known to us.

TIMON	You'll take it ill.

Both	Most thankfully, my lord.

TIMON	Will you, indeed?

Both	Doubt it not, worthy lord.

TIMON	There's never a one of you but trusts a knave,
	That mightily deceives you.

Both	Do we, my lord?

TIMON	Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble,
	Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him,
	Keep in your bosom: yet remain assured
	That he's a made-up villain.

Painter	I know none such, my lord.

Poet	Nor I.

TIMON	Look you, I love you well; I'll give you gold,
	Rid me these villains from your companies:
	Hang them or stab them, drown them in a draught,
	Confound them by some course, and come to me,
	I'll give you gold enough.

Both	Name them, my lord, let's know them.

TIMON	You that way and you this, but two in company;
	Each man apart, all single and alone,
	Yet an arch-villain keeps him company.
	If where thou art two villains shall not be,
	Come not near him. If thou wouldst not reside
	But where one villain is, then him abandon.
	Hence, pack! there's gold; you came for gold, ye slaves:

	[To Painter]

	You have work'd for me; there's payment for you: hence!

	[To Poet]

	You are an alchemist; make gold of that.
	Out, rascal dogs!

	[Beats them out, and then retires to his cave]

	[Enter FLAVIUS and two Senators]

FLAVIUS	It is in vain that you would speak with Timon;
	For he is set so only to himself
	That nothing but himself which looks like man
	Is friendly with him.

First Senator	Bring us to his cave:
	It is our part and promise to the Athenians
	To speak with Timon.

Second Senator	At all times alike
	Men are not still the same: 'twas time and griefs
	That framed him thus: time, with his fairer hand,
	Offering the fortunes of his former days,
	The former man may make him. Bring us to him,
	And chance it as it may.

FLAVIUS	Here is his cave.
	Peace and content be here! Lord Timon! Timon!
	Look out, and speak to friends: the Athenians,
	By two of their most reverend senate, greet thee:
	Speak to them, noble Timon.

	[TIMON comes from his cave]

TIMON	Thou sun, that comfort'st, burn! Speak, and
	be hang'd:
	For each true word, a blister! and each false
	Be as cauterizing to the root o' the tongue,
	Consuming it with speaking!

First Senator	Worthy Timon,--

TIMON	Of none but such as you, and you of Timon.

First Senator	The senators of Athens greet thee, Timon.

TIMON	I thank them; and would send them back the plague,
	Could I but catch it for them.

First Senator	O, forget
	What we are sorry for ourselves in thee.
	The senators with one consent of love
	Entreat thee back to Athens; who have thought
	On special dignities, which vacant lie
	For thy best use and wearing.

Second Senator	They confess
	Toward thee forgetfulness too general, gross:
	Which now the public body, which doth seldom
	Play the recanter, feeling in itself
	A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal
	Of its own fail, restraining aid to Timon;
	And send forth us, to make their sorrow'd render,
	Together with a recompense more fruitful
	Than their offence can weigh down by the dram;
	Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealth
	As shall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs
	And write in thee the figures of their love,
	Ever to read them thine.

TIMON	You witch me in it;
	Surprise me to the very brink of tears:
	Lend me a fool's heart and a woman's eyes,
	And I'll beweep these comforts, worthy senators.

First Senator	Therefore, so please thee to return with us
	And of our Athens, thine and ours, to take
	The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks,
	Allow'd with absolute power and thy good name
	Live with authority: so soon we shall drive back
	Of Alcibiades the approaches wild,
	Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up
	His country's peace.

Second Senator	And shakes his threatening sword
	Against the walls of Athens.

First Senator	Therefore, Timon,--

TIMON	Well, sir, I will; therefore, I will, sir; thus:
	If Alcibiades kill my countrymen,
	Let Alcibiades know this of Timon,
	That Timon cares not. But if be sack fair Athens,
	And take our goodly aged men by the beards,
	Giving our holy virgins to the stain
	Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war,
	Then let him know, and tell him Timon speaks it,
	In pity of our aged and our youth,
	I cannot choose but tell him, that I care not,
	And let him take't at worst; for their knives care not,
	While you have throats to answer: for myself,
	There's not a whittle in the unruly camp
	But I do prize it at my love before
	The reverend'st throat in Athens. So I leave you
	To the protection of the prosperous gods,
	As thieves to keepers.

FLAVIUS	Stay not, all's in vain.

TIMON	Why, I was writing of my epitaph;
	it will be seen to-morrow: my long sickness
	Of health and living now begins to mend,
	And nothing brings me all things. Go, live still;
	Be Alcibiades your plague, you his,
	And last so long enough!

First Senator	We speak in vain.

TIMON	But yet I love my country, and am not
	One that rejoices in the common wreck,
	As common bruit doth put it.

First Senator	That's well spoke.

TIMON	Commend me to my loving countrymen,--

First Senator	These words become your lips as they pass
	thorough them.

Second Senator	And enter in our ears like great triumphers
	In their applauding gates.

TIMON	Commend me to them,
	And tell them that, to ease them of their griefs,
	Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, losses,
	Their pangs of love, with other incident throes
	That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain
	In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them:
	I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath.

First Senator	I like this well; he will return again.

TIMON	I have a tree, which grows here in my close,
	That mine own use invites me to cut down,
	And shortly must I fell it: tell my friends,
	Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree
	From high to low throughout, that whoso please
	To stop affliction, let him take his haste,
	Come hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe,
	And hang himself. I pray you, do my greeting.

FLAVIUS	Trouble him no further; thus you still shall find him.

TIMON	Come not to me again: but say to Athens,
	Timon hath made his everlasting mansion
	Upon the beached verge of the salt flood;
	Who once a day with his embossed froth
	The turbulent surge shall cover: thither come,
	And let my grave-stone be your oracle.
	Lips, let sour words go by and language end:
	What is amiss plague and infection mend!
	Graves only be men's works and death their gain!
	Sun, hide thy beams! Timon hath done his reign.

	[Retires to his cave]

First Senator	His discontents are unremoveably
	Coupled to nature.

Second Senator	Our hope in him is dead: let us return,
	And strain what other means is left unto us
	In our dear peril.

First Senator	                  It requires swift foot.

	[Exeunt]




	TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT V



SCENE II	Before the walls of Athens.


	[Enter two Senators and a Messenger]

First Senator	Thou hast painfully discover'd: are his files
	As full as thy report?

Messenger	have spoke the least:
	Besides, his expedition promises
	Present approach.

Second Senator	We stand much hazard, if they bring not Timon.

Messenger	I met a courier, one mine ancient friend;
	Whom, though in general part we were opposed,
	Yet our old love made a particular force,
	And made us speak like friends: this man was riding
	From Alcibiades to Timon's cave,
	With letters of entreaty, which imported
	His fellowship i' the cause against your city,
	In part for his sake moved.

First Senator	Here come our brothers.

	[Enter the Senators from TIMON]

Third Senator	No talk of Timon, nothing of him expect.
	The enemies' drum is heard, and fearful scouring
	Doth choke the air with dust: in, and prepare:
	Ours is the fall, I fear; our foes the snare.

	[Exeunt]




	TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT V



SCENE III	The woods. Timon's cave, and a rude tomb seen.


	[Enter a Soldier, seeking TIMON]

Soldier	By all description this should be the place.
	Who's here? speak, ho! No answer! What is this?
	Timon is dead, who hath outstretch'd his span:
	Some beast rear'd this; there does not live a man.
	Dead, sure; and this his grave. What's on this tomb
	I cannot read; the character I'll take with wax:
	Our captain hath in every figure skill,
	An aged interpreter, though young in days:
	Before proud Athens he's set down by this,
	Whose fall the mark of his ambition is.

	[Exit]




	TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT V



SCENE IV	Before the walls of Athens.


	[Trumpets sound. Enter ALCIBIADES with his powers]

ALCIBIADES	Sound to this coward and lascivious town
	Our terrible approach.

	[A parley sounded]

	[Enter Senators on the walls]

	Till now you have gone on and fill'd the time
	With all licentious measure, making your wills
	The scope of justice; till now myself and such
	As slept within the shadow of your power
	Have wander'd with our traversed arms and breathed
	Our sufferance vainly: now the time is flush,
	When crouching marrow in the bearer strong
	Cries of itself 'No more:' now breathless wrong
	Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease,
	And pursy insolence shall break his wind
	With fear and horrid flight.

First Senator	Noble and young,
	When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit,
	Ere thou hadst power or we had cause of fear,
	We sent to thee, to give thy rages balm,
	To wipe out our ingratitude with loves
	Above their quantity.

Second Senator	So did we woo
	Transformed Timon to our city's love
	By humble message and by promised means:
	We were not all unkind, nor all deserve
	The common stroke of war.

First Senator	These walls of ours
	Were not erected by their hands from whom
	You have received your griefs; nor are they such
	That these great towers, trophies and schools
	should fall
	For private faults in them.

Second Senator	Nor are they living
	Who were the motives that you first went out;
	Shame that they wanted cunning, in excess
	Hath broke their hearts. March, noble lord,
	Into our city with thy banners spread:
	By decimation, and a tithed death--
	If thy revenges hunger for that food
	Which nature loathes--take thou the destined tenth,
	And by the hazard of the spotted die
	Let die the spotted.

First Senator	All have not offended;
	For those that were, it is not square to take
	On those that are, revenges: crimes, like lands,
	Are not inherited. Then, dear countryman,
	Bring in thy ranks, but leave without thy rage:
	Spare thy Athenian cradle and those kin
	Which in the bluster of thy wrath must fall
	With those that have offended: like a shepherd,
	Approach the fold and cull the infected forth,
	But kill not all together.

Second Senator	What thou wilt,
	Thou rather shalt enforce it with thy smile
	Than hew to't with thy sword.

First Senator 	Set but thy foot
	Against our rampired gates, and they shall ope;
	So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before,
	To say thou'lt enter friendly.

Second Senator	Throw thy glove,
	Or any token of thine honour else,
	That thou wilt use the wars as thy redress
	And not as our confusion, all thy powers
	Shall make their harbour in our town, till we
	Have seal'd thy full desire.

ALCIBIADES	Then there's my glove;
	Descend, and open your uncharged ports:
	Those enemies of Timon's and mine own
	Whom you yourselves shall set out for reproof
	Fall and no more: and, to atone your fears
	With my more noble meaning, not a man
	Shall pass his quarter, or offend the stream
	Of regular justice in your city's bounds,
	But shall be render'd to your public laws
	At heaviest answer.

Both	'Tis most nobly spoken.

ALCIBIADES	Descend, and keep your words.

	[The Senators descend, and open the gates]

	[Enter Soldier]

Soldier	My noble general, Timon is dead;
	Entomb'd upon the very hem o' the sea;
	And on his grave-stone this insculpture, which
	With wax I brought away, whose soft impression
	Interprets for my poor ignorance.

ALCIBIADES	[Reads the epitaph]  'Here lies a
	wretched corse, of wretched soul bereft:
	Seek not my name: a plague consume you wicked
	caitiffs left!
	Here lie I, Timon; who, alive, all living men did hate:
	Pass by and curse thy fill, but pass and stay
	not here thy gait.'
	These well express in thee thy latter spirits:
	Though thou abhorr'dst in us our human griefs,
	Scorn'dst our brain's flow and those our
	droplets which
	From niggard nature fall, yet rich conceit
	Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep for aye
	On thy low grave, on faults forgiven. Dead
	Is noble Timon: of whose memory
	Hereafter more. Bring me into your city,
	And I will use the olive with my sword,
	Make war breed peace, make peace stint war, make each
	Prescribe to other as each other's leech.
	Let our drums strike.

	[Exeunt]




	KING LEAR


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


LEAR	king of Britain  (KING LEAR:)

KING OF FRANCE:

DUKE OF BURGUNDY	(BURGUNDY:)

DUKE OF CORNWALL	(CORNWALL:)

DUKE OF ALBANY	(ALBANY:)

EARL OF KENT	(KENT:)

EARL OF GLOUCESTER	(GLOUCESTER:)

EDGAR	son to Gloucester.

EDMUND	bastard son to Gloucester.

CURAN	a courtier.

Old Man	tenant to Gloucester.

Doctor:

Fool:

OSWALD	steward to Goneril.

	A Captain employed by Edmund. (Captain:)

	Gentleman attendant on Cordelia. (Gentleman:)
	A Herald.

	Servants to Cornwall.
	(First Servant:)
	(Second Servant:)
	(Third Servant:)


GONERIL	|
	|
REGAN	|  daughters to Lear.
	|
CORDELIA	|


	Knights of Lear's train, Captains, Messengers,
	Soldiers, and Attendants
	(Knight:)
	(Captain:)
	(Messenger:)



SCENE	Britain.




	KING LEAR


ACT I



SCENE I	King Lear's palace.


	[Enter KENT, GLOUCESTER, and EDMUND]

KENT	I thought the king had more affected the Duke of
	Albany than Cornwall.

GLOUCESTER	It did always seem so to us: but now, in the
	division of the kingdom, it appears not which of
	the dukes he values most; for equalities are so
	weighed, that curiosity in neither can make choice
	of either's moiety.

KENT	Is not this your son, my lord?

GLOUCESTER	His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge: I have
	so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am
	brazed to it.

KENT	I cannot conceive you.

GLOUCESTER	Sir, this young fellow's mother could: whereupon
	she grew round-wombed, and had, indeed, sir, a son
	for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed.
	Do you smell a fault?

KENT	I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it
	being so proper.

GLOUCESTER	But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some year
	elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account:
	though this knave came something saucily into the
	world before he was sent for, yet was his mother
	fair; there was good sport at his making, and the
	whoreson must be acknowledged. Do you know this
	noble gentleman, Edmund?

EDMUND	No, my lord.

GLOUCESTER	My lord of Kent: remember him hereafter as my
	honourable friend.

EDMUND	My services to your lordship.

KENT	I must love you, and sue to know you better.

EDMUND	Sir, I shall study deserving.

GLOUCESTER	He hath been out nine years, and away he shall
	again. The king is coming.

	[Sennet. Enter KING LEAR, CORNWALL, ALBANY,
	GONERIL, REGAN, CORDELIA, and Attendants]

KING LEAR	Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester.

GLOUCESTER	I shall, my liege.

	[Exeunt GLOUCESTER and EDMUND]

KING LEAR	Meantime we shall express our darker purpose.
	Give me the map there. Know that we have divided
	In three our kingdom: and 'tis our fast intent
	To shake all cares and business from our age;
	Conferring them on younger strengths, while we
	Unburthen'd crawl toward death. Our son of Cornwall,
	And you, our no less loving son of Albany,
	We have this hour a constant will to publish
	Our daughters' several dowers, that future strife
	May be prevented now. The princes, France and Burgundy,
	Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love,
	Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn,
	And here are to be answer'd. Tell me, my daughters,--
	Since now we will divest us both of rule,
	Interest of territory, cares of state,--
	Which of you shall we say doth love us most?
	That we our largest bounty may extend
	Where nature doth with merit challenge. Goneril,
	Our eldest-born, speak first.

GONERIL	Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter;
	Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty;
	Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare;
	No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour;
	As much as child e'er loved, or father found;
	A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable;
	Beyond all manner of so much I love you.

CORDELIA	[Aside]  What shall Cordelia do?
	Love, and be silent.

LEAR	Of all these bounds, even from this line to this,
	With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd,
	With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads,
	We make thee lady: to thine and Albany's issue
	Be this perpetual. What says our second daughter,
	Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak.

REGAN	Sir, I am made
	Of the self-same metal that my sister is,
	And prize me at her worth. In my true heart
	I find she names my very deed of love;
	Only she comes too short: that I profess
	Myself an enemy to all other joys,
	Which the most precious square of sense possesses;
	And find I am alone felicitate
	In your dear highness' love.

CORDELIA	[Aside]	Then poor Cordelia!
	And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love's
	More richer than my tongue.

KING LEAR	To thee and thine hereditary ever
	Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom;
	No less in space, validity, and pleasure,
	Than that conferr'd on Goneril. Now, our joy,
	Although the last, not least; to whose young love
	The vines of France and milk of Burgundy
	Strive to be interess'd; what can you say to draw
	A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.

CORDELIA	Nothing, my lord.

KING LEAR	Nothing!

CORDELIA	Nothing.

KING LEAR	Nothing will come of nothing: speak again.

CORDELIA	Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave
	My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty
	According to my bond; nor more nor less.

KING LEAR	How, how, Cordelia! mend your speech a little,
	Lest it may mar your fortunes.

CORDELIA	Good my lord,
	You have begot me, bred me, loved me: I
	Return those duties back as are right fit,
	Obey you, love you, and most honour you.
	Why have my sisters husbands, if they say
	They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed,
	That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry
	Half my love with him, half my care and duty:
	Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters,
	To love my father all.

KING LEAR	But goes thy heart with this?

CORDELIA	Ay, good my lord.

KING LEAR	So young, and so untender?

CORDELIA	So young, my lord, and true.

KING LEAR	Let it be so; thy truth, then, be thy dower:
	For, by the sacred radiance of the sun,
	The mysteries of Hecate, and the night;
	By all the operation of the orbs
	From whom we do exist, and cease to be;
	Here I disclaim all my paternal care,
	Propinquity and property of blood,
	And as a stranger to my heart and me
	Hold thee, from this, for ever. The barbarous Scythian,
	Or he that makes his generation messes
	To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom
	Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and relieved,
	As thou my sometime daughter.

KENT	Good my liege,--

KING LEAR	Peace, Kent!
	Come not between the dragon and his wrath.
	I loved her most, and thought to set my rest
	On her kind nursery. Hence, and avoid my sight!
	So be my grave my peace, as here I give
	Her father's heart from her! Call France; who stirs?
	Call Burgundy. Cornwall and Albany,
	With my two daughters' dowers digest this third:
	Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.
	I do invest you jointly with my power,
	Pre-eminence, and all the large effects
	That troop with majesty. Ourself, by monthly course,
	With reservation of an hundred knights,
	By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode
	Make with you by due turns. Only we still retain
	The name, and all the additions to a king;
	The sway, revenue, execution of the rest,
	Beloved sons, be yours: which to confirm,
	This coronet part betwixt you.

	[Giving the crown]

KENT	Royal Lear,
	Whom I have ever honour'd as my king,
	Loved as my father, as my master follow'd,
	As my great patron thought on in my prayers,--

KING LEAR	The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft.

KENT	Let it fall rather, though the fork invade
	The region of my heart: be Kent unmannerly,
	When Lear is mad. What wilt thou do, old man?
	Think'st thou that duty shall have dread to speak,
	When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour's bound,
	When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy doom;
	And, in thy best consideration, cheque
	This hideous rashness: answer my life my judgment,
	Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least;
	Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sound
	Reverbs no hollowness.

KING LEAR	Kent, on thy life, no more.

KENT	My life I never held but as a pawn
	To wage against thy enemies; nor fear to lose it,
	Thy safety being the motive.

KING LEAR	Out of my sight!

KENT	See better, Lear; and let me still remain
	The true blank of thine eye.

KING LEAR	Now, by Apollo,--

KENT	                  Now, by Apollo, king,
	Thou swear'st thy gods in vain.

KING LEAR	O, vassal! miscreant!

	[Laying his hand on his sword]


ALBANY	|
	|  Dear sir, forbear.
CORNWALL	|


KENT	Do:
	Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow
	Upon thy foul disease. Revoke thy doom;
	Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat,
	I'll tell thee thou dost evil.

KING LEAR	Hear me, recreant!
	On thine allegiance, hear me!
	Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow,
	Which we durst never yet, and with strain'd pride
	To come between our sentence and our power,
	Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,
	Our potency made good, take thy reward.
	Five days we do allot thee, for provision
	To shield thee from diseases of the world;
	And on the sixth to turn thy hated back
	Upon our kingdom: if, on the tenth day following,
	Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions,
	The moment is thy death. Away! by Jupiter,
	This shall not be revoked.

KENT	Fare thee well, king: sith thus thou wilt appear,
	Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.

	[To CORDELIA]

	The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid,
	That justly think'st, and hast most rightly said!

	[To REGAN and GONERIL]

	And your large speeches may your deeds approve,
	That good effects may spring from words of love.
	Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu;
	He'll shape his old course in a country new.

	[Exit]

	[Flourish. Re-enter GLOUCESTER, with KING OF FRANCE,
	BURGUNDY, and Attendants]

GLOUCESTER	Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord.

KING LEAR	My lord of Burgundy.
	We first address towards you, who with this king
	Hath rivall'd for our daughter: what, in the least,
	Will you require in present dower with her,
	Or cease your quest of love?

BURGUNDY	Most royal majesty,
	I crave no more than what your highness offer'd,
	Nor will you tender less.

KING LEAR	Right noble Burgundy,
	When she was dear to us, we did hold her so;
	But now her price is fall'n. Sir, there she stands:
	If aught within that little seeming substance,
	Or all of it, with our displeasure pieced,
	And nothing more, may fitly like your grace,
	She's there, and she is yours.

BURGUNDY	I know no answer.

KING LEAR	Will you, with those infirmities she owes,
	Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate,
	Dower'd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath,
	Take her, or leave her?

BURGUNDY	Pardon me, royal sir;
	Election makes not up on such conditions.

KING LEAR	Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that made me,
	I tell you all her wealth.

	[To KING OF FRANCE]

		     For you, great king,
	I would not from your love make such a stray,
	To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you
	To avert your liking a more worthier way
	Than on a wretch whom nature is ashamed
	Almost to acknowledge hers.

KING OF FRANCE	This is most strange,
	That she, that even but now was your best object,
	The argument of your praise, balm of your age,
	Most best, most dearest, should in this trice of time
	Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle
	So many folds of favour. Sure, her offence
	Must be of such unnatural degree,
	That monsters it, or your fore-vouch'd affection
	Fall'n into taint: which to believe of her,
	Must be a faith that reason without miracle
	Could never plant in me.

CORDELIA	I yet beseech your majesty,--
	If for I want that glib and oily art,
	To speak and purpose not; since what I well intend,
	I'll do't before I speak,--that you make known
	It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness,
	No unchaste action, or dishonour'd step,
	That hath deprived me of your grace and favour;
	But even for want of that for which I am richer,
	A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue
	As I am glad I have not, though not to have it
	Hath lost me in your liking.

KING LEAR	Better thou
	Hadst not been born than not to have pleased me better.

KING OF FRANCE	Is it but this,--a tardiness in nature
	Which often leaves the history unspoke
	That it intends to do? My lord of Burgundy,
	What say you to the lady? Love's not love
	When it is mingled with regards that stand
	Aloof from the entire point. Will you have her?
	She is herself a dowry.

BURGUNDY	Royal Lear,
	Give but that portion which yourself proposed,
	And here I take Cordelia by the hand,
	Duchess of Burgundy.

KING LEAR	Nothing: I have sworn; I am firm.

BURGUNDY	I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father
	That you must lose a husband.

CORDELIA	Peace be with Burgundy!
	Since that respects of fortune are his love,
	I shall not be his wife.

KING OF FRANCE	Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor;
	Most choice, forsaken; and most loved, despised!
	Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon:
	Be it lawful I take up what's cast away.
	Gods, gods! 'tis strange that from their cold'st neglect
	My love should kindle to inflamed respect.
	Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance,
	Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France:
	Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy
	Can buy this unprized precious maid of me.
	Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind:
	Thou losest here, a better where to find.

KING LEAR	Thou hast her, France: let her be thine; for we
	Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see
	That face of hers again. Therefore be gone
	Without our grace, our love, our benison.
	Come, noble Burgundy.

	[Flourish. Exeunt all but KING OF FRANCE, GONERIL,
	REGAN, and CORDELIA]

KING OF FRANCE	Bid farewell to your sisters.

CORDELIA	The jewels of our father, with wash'd eyes
	Cordelia leaves you: I know you what you are;
	And like a sister am most loath to call
	Your faults as they are named. Use well our father:
	To your professed bosoms I commit him
	But yet, alas, stood I within his grace,
	I would prefer him to a better place.
	So, farewell to you both.

REGAN	Prescribe not us our duties.

GONERIL	Let your study
	Be to content your lord, who hath received you
	At fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted,
	And well are worth the want that you have wanted.

CORDELIA	Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides:
	Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.
	Well may you prosper!

KING OF FRANCE	Come, my fair Cordelia.

	[Exeunt KING OF FRANCE and CORDELIA]

GONERIL	Sister, it is not a little I have to say of what
	most nearly appertains to us both. I think our
	father will hence to-night.

REGAN	That's most certain, and with you; next month with us.

GONERIL	You see how full of changes his age is; the
	observation we have made of it hath not been
	little: he always loved our sister most; and
	with what poor judgment he hath now cast her off
	appears too grossly.

REGAN	'Tis the infirmity of his age: yet he hath ever
	but slenderly known himself.

GONERIL	The best and soundest of his time hath been but
	rash; then must we look to receive from his age,
	not alone the imperfections of long-engraffed
	condition, but therewithal the unruly waywardness
	that infirm and choleric years bring with them.

REGAN	Such unconstant starts are we like to have from
	him as this of Kent's banishment.

GONERIL	There is further compliment of leavetaking
	between France and him. Pray you, let's hit
	together: if our father carry authority with
	such dispositions as he bears, this last
	surrender of his will but offend us.

REGAN	We shall further think on't.

GONERIL	We must do something, and i' the heat.

	[Exeunt]




	KING LEAR


ACT I



SCENE II	The Earl of Gloucester's castle.


	[Enter EDMUND, with a letter]

EDMUND	Thou, nature, art my goddess; to thy law
	My services are bound. Wherefore should I
	Stand in the plague of custom, and permit
	The curiosity of nations to deprive me,
	For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines
	Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base?
	When my dimensions are as well compact,
	My mind as generous, and my shape as true,
	As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us
	With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?
	Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take
	More composition and fierce quality
	Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed,
	Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops,
	Got 'tween asleep and wake? Well, then,
	Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land:
	Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund
	As to the legitimate: fine word,--legitimate!
	Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed,
	And my invention thrive, Edmund the base
	Shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper:
	Now, gods, stand up for bastards!

	[Enter GLOUCESTER]

GLOUCESTER	Kent banish'd thus! and France in choler parted!
	And the king gone to-night! subscribed his power!
	Confined to exhibition! All this done
	Upon the gad! Edmund, how now! what news?

EDMUND	So please your lordship, none.

	[Putting up the letter]

GLOUCESTER	Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter?

EDMUND	I know no news, my lord.

GLOUCESTER	What paper were you reading?

EDMUND	Nothing, my lord.

GLOUCESTER	No? What needed, then, that terrible dispatch of
	it into your pocket? the quality of nothing hath
	not such need to hide itself. Let's see: come,
	if it be nothing, I shall not need spectacles.

EDMUND	I beseech you, sir, pardon me: it is a letter
	from my brother, that I have not all o'er-read;
	and for so much as I have perused, I find it not
	fit for your o'er-looking.

GLOUCESTER	Give me the letter, sir.

EDMUND	I shall offend, either to detain or give it. The
	contents, as in part I understand them, are to blame.

GLOUCESTER	Let's see, let's see.

EDMUND	I hope, for my brother's justification, he wrote
	this but as an essay or taste of my virtue.

GLOUCESTER	[Reads]  'This policy and reverence of age makes
	the world bitter to the best of our times; keeps
	our fortunes from us till our oldness cannot relish
	them. I begin to find an idle and fond bondage
	in the oppression of aged tyranny; who sways, not
	as it hath power, but as it is suffered. Come to
	me, that of this I may speak more. If our father
	would sleep till I waked him, you should half his
	revenue for ever, and live the beloved of your
	brother,	EDGAR.'

	Hum--conspiracy!--'Sleep till I waked him,--you
	should enjoy half his revenue,'--My son Edgar!
	Had he a hand to write this? a heart and brain
	to breed it in?--When came this to you? who
	brought it?

EDMUND	It was not brought me, my lord; there's the
	cunning of it; I found it thrown in at the
	casement of my closet.

GLOUCESTER	You know the character to be your brother's?

EDMUND	If the matter were good, my lord, I durst swear
	it were his; but, in respect of that, I would
	fain think it were not.

GLOUCESTER	It is his.

EDMUND	It is his hand, my lord; but I hope his heart is
	not in the contents.

GLOUCESTER	Hath he never heretofore sounded you in this business?

EDMUND	Never, my lord: but I have heard him oft
	maintain it to be fit, that, sons at perfect age,
	and fathers declining, the father should be as
	ward to the son, and the son manage his revenue.

GLOUCESTER	O villain, villain! His very opinion in the
	letter! Abhorred villain! Unnatural, detested,
	brutish villain! worse than brutish! Go, sirrah,
	seek him; I'll apprehend him: abominable villain!
	Where is he?

EDMUND	I do not well know, my lord. If it shall please
	you to suspend your indignation against my
	brother till you can derive from him better
	testimony of his intent, you shall run a certain
	course; where, if you violently proceed against
	him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great
	gap in your own honour, and shake in pieces the
	heart of his obedience. I dare pawn down my life
	for him, that he hath wrote this to feel my
	affection to your honour, and to no further
	pretence of danger.

GLOUCESTER	Think you so?

EDMUND	If your honour judge it meet, I will place you
	where you shall hear us confer of this, and by an
	auricular assurance have your satisfaction; and
	that without any further delay than this very evening.

GLOUCESTER	He cannot be such a monster--

EDMUND	Nor is not, sure.

GLOUCESTER	To his father, that so tenderly and entirely
	loves him. Heaven and earth! Edmund, seek him
	out: wind me into him, I pray you: frame the
	business after your own wisdom. I would unstate
	myself, to be in a due resolution.

EDMUND	I will seek him, sir, presently: convey the
	business as I shall find means and acquaint you withal.

GLOUCESTER	These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend
	no good to us: though the wisdom of nature can
	reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself
	scourged by the sequent effects: love cools,
	friendship falls off, brothers divide: in
	cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in
	palaces, treason; and the bond cracked 'twixt son
	and father. This villain of mine comes under the
	prediction; there's son against father: the king
	falls from bias of nature; there's father against
	child. We have seen the best of our time:
	machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all
	ruinous disorders, follow us disquietly to our
	graves. Find out this villain, Edmund; it shall
	lose thee nothing; do it carefully. And the
	noble and true-hearted Kent banished! his
	offence, honesty! 'Tis strange.

	[Exit]

EDMUND	This is the excellent foppery of the world, that,
	when we are sick in fortune,--often the surfeit
	of our own behavior,--we make guilty of our
	disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars: as
	if we were villains by necessity; fools by
	heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and
	treachers, by spherical predominance; drunkards,
	liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of
	planetary influence; and all that we are evil in,
	by a divine thrusting on: an admirable evasion
	of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish
	disposition to the charge of a star! My
	father compounded with my mother under the
	dragon's tail; and my nativity was under Ursa
	major; so that it follows, I am rough and
	lecherous. Tut, I should have been that I am,
	had the maidenliest star in the firmament
	twinkled on my bastardizing. Edgar--

	[Enter EDGAR]

	And pat he comes like the catastrophe of the old
	comedy: my cue is villanous melancholy, with a
	sigh like Tom o' Bedlam. O, these eclipses do
	portend these divisions! fa, sol, la, mi.

EDGAR	How now, brother Edmund! what serious
	contemplation are you in?

EDMUND	I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read
	this other day, what should follow these eclipses.

EDGAR	Do you busy yourself about that?

EDMUND	I promise you, the effects he writes of succeed
	unhappily; as of unnaturalness between the child
	and the parent; death, dearth, dissolutions of
	ancient amities; divisions in state, menaces and
	maledictions against king and nobles; needless
	diffidences, banishment of friends, dissipation
	of cohorts, nuptial breaches, and I know not what.

EDGAR	How long have you been a sectary astronomical?

EDMUND	Come, come; when saw you my father last?

EDGAR	Why, the night gone by.

EDMUND	Spake you with him?

EDGAR	Ay, two hours together.

EDMUND	Parted you in good terms? Found you no
	displeasure in him by word or countenance?

EDGAR	None at all.

EDMUND	Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended
	him: and at my entreaty forbear his presence
	till some little time hath qualified the heat of
	his displeasure; which at this instant so rageth
	in him, that with the mischief of your person it
	would scarcely allay.

EDGAR	Some villain hath done me wrong.

EDMUND	That's my fear. I pray you, have a continent
	forbearance till the spied of his rage goes
	slower; and, as I say, retire with me to my
	lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to
	hear my lord speak: pray ye, go; there's my key:
	if you do stir abroad, go armed.

EDGAR	Armed, brother!

EDMUND	Brother, I advise you to the best; go armed: I
	am no honest man if there be any good meaning
	towards you: I have told you what I have seen
	and heard; but faintly, nothing like the image
	and horror of it: pray you, away.

EDGAR	Shall I hear from you anon?

EDMUND	I do serve you in this business.

	[Exit EDGAR]

	A credulous father! and a brother noble,
	Whose nature is so far from doing harms,
	That he suspects none: on whose foolish honesty
	My practises ride easy! I see the business.
	Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit:
	All with me's meet that I can fashion fit.

	[Exit]




	KING LEAR


ACT I



SCENE III	The Duke of Albany's palace.


	[Enter GONERIL, and OSWALD, her steward]

GONERIL	Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his fool?

OSWALD	Yes, madam.

GONERIL	By day and night he wrongs me; every hour
	He flashes into one gross crime or other,
	That sets us all at odds: I'll not endure it:
	His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us
	On every trifle. When he returns from hunting,
	I will not speak with him; say I am sick:
	If you come slack of former services,
	You shall do well; the fault of it I'll answer.

OSWALD	He's coming, madam; I hear him.

	[Horns within]

GONERIL	Put on what weary negligence you please,
	You and your fellows; I'll have it come to question:
	If he dislike it, let him to our sister,
	Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one,
	Not to be over-ruled. Idle old man,
	That still would manage those authorities
	That he hath given away! Now, by my life,
	Old fools are babes again; and must be used
	With cheques as flatteries,--when they are seen abused.
	Remember what I tell you.

OSWALD	Well, madam.

GONERIL	And let his knights have colder looks among you;
	What grows of it, no matter; advise your fellows so:
	I would breed from hence occasions, and I shall,
	That I may speak: I'll write straight to my sister,
	To hold my very course. Prepare for dinner.

	[Exeunt]




	KING LEAR


ACT I



SCENE IV	A hall in the same.


	[Enter KENT, disguised]

KENT	If but as well I other accents borrow,
	That can my speech defuse, my good intent
	May carry through itself to that full issue
	For which I razed my likeness. Now, banish'd Kent,
	If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd,
	So may it come, thy master, whom thou lovest,
	Shall find thee full of labours.

	[Horns within. Enter KING LEAR, Knights, and
	Attendants]

KING LEAR	Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go get it ready.

	[Exit an Attendant]

	How now! what art thou?

KENT	A man, sir.

KING LEAR	What dost thou profess? what wouldst thou with us?

KENT	I do profess to be no less than I seem; to serve
	him truly that will put me in trust: to love him
	that is honest; to converse with him that is wise,
	and says little; to fear judgment; to fight when I
	cannot choose; and to eat no fish.

KING LEAR	What art thou?

KENT	A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the king.

KING LEAR	If thou be as poor for a subject as he is for a
	king, thou art poor enough. What wouldst thou?

KENT	Service.

KING LEAR	Who wouldst thou serve?

KENT	You.

KING LEAR	Dost thou know me, fellow?

KENT	No, sir; but you have that in your countenance
	which I would fain call master.

KING LEAR	What's that?

KENT	Authority.

KING LEAR	What services canst thou do?

KENT	I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious
	tale in telling it, and deliver a plain message
	bluntly: that which ordinary men are fit for, I am
	qualified in; and the best of me is diligence.

KING LEAR	How old art thou?

KENT	Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor
	so old to dote on her for any thing: I have years
	on my back forty eight.

KING LEAR	Follow me; thou shalt serve me: if I like thee no
	worse after dinner, I will not part from thee yet.
	Dinner, ho, dinner! Where's my knave? my fool?
	Go you, and call my fool hither.

	[Exit an Attendant]

	[Enter OSWALD]

	You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter?

OSWALD	So please you,--

	[Exit]

KING LEAR	What says the fellow there? Call the clotpoll back.

	[Exit a Knight]

	Where's my fool, ho? I think the world's asleep.

	[Re-enter Knight]

	How now! where's that mongrel?

Knight	He says, my lord, your daughter is not well.

KING LEAR	Why came not the slave back to me when I called him.

Knight	Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he would
	not.

KING LEAR	He would not!

Knight	My lord, I know not what the matter is; but, to my
	judgment, your highness is not entertained with that
	ceremonious affection as you were wont; there's a
	great abatement of kindness appears as well in the
	general dependants as in the duke himself also and
	your daughter.

KING LEAR	Ha! sayest thou so?

Knight	I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken;
	for my duty cannot be silent when I think your
	highness wronged.

KING LEAR	Thou but rememberest me of mine own conception: I
	have perceived a most faint neglect of late; which I
	have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity
	than as a very pretence and purpose of unkindness:
	I will look further into't. But where's my fool? I
	have not seen him this two days.

Knight	Since my young lady's going into France, sir, the
	fool hath much pined away.

KING LEAR	No more of that; I have noted it well. Go you, and
	tell my daughter I would speak with her.

	[Exit an Attendant]

	Go you, call hither my fool.

	[Exit an Attendant]

	[Re-enter OSWALD]

	O, you sir, you, come you hither, sir: who am I,
	sir?

OSWALD	My lady's father.

KING LEAR	'My lady's father'! my lord's knave: your
	whoreson dog! you slave! you cur!

OSWALD	I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your pardon.

KING LEAR	Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?

	[Striking him]

OSWALD	I'll not be struck, my lord.

KENT	Nor tripped neither, you base football player.

	[Tripping up his heels]

KING LEAR	I thank thee, fellow; thou servest me, and I'll
	love thee.

KENT	Come, sir, arise, away! I'll teach you differences:
	away, away! if you will measure your lubber's
	length again, tarry: but away! go to; have you
	wisdom? so.

	[Pushes OSWALD out]

KING LEAR	Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee: there's
	earnest of thy service.

	[Giving KENT money]

	[Enter Fool]

Fool	Let me hire him too: here's my coxcomb.

	[Offering KENT his cap]

KING LEAR	How now, my pretty knave! how dost thou?

Fool	Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb.

KENT	Why, fool?

Fool	Why, for taking one's part that's out of favour:
	nay, an thou canst not smile as the wind sits,
	thou'lt catch cold shortly: there, take my coxcomb:
	why, this fellow has banished two on's daughters,
	and did the third a blessing against his will; if
	thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb.
	How now, nuncle! Would I had two coxcombs and two daughters!

KING LEAR	Why, my boy?

Fool	If I gave them all my living, I'ld keep my coxcombs
	myself. There's mine; beg another of thy daughters.

KING LEAR	Take heed, sirrah; the whip.

Fool	Truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be whipped
	out, when Lady the brach may stand by the fire and stink.

KING LEAR	A pestilent gall to me!

Fool	Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech.

KING LEAR	Do.

Fool	Mark it, nuncle:
	Have more than thou showest,
	Speak less than thou knowest,
	Lend less than thou owest,
	Ride more than thou goest,
	Learn more than thou trowest,
	Set less than thou throwest;
	Leave thy drink and thy whore,
	And keep in-a-door,
	And thou shalt have more
	Than two tens to a score.

KENT	This is nothing, fool.

Fool	Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer; you
	gave me nothing for't. Can you make no use of
	nothing, nuncle?

KING LEAR	Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out of nothing.

Fool	[To KENT]  Prithee, tell him, so much the rent of
	his land comes to: he will not believe a fool.

KING LEAR	A bitter fool!

Fool	Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a
	bitter fool and a sweet fool?

KING LEAR	No, lad; teach me.

Fool	That lord that counsell'd thee
	To give away thy land,
	Come place him here by me,
	Do thou for him stand:
	The sweet and bitter fool
	Will presently appear;
	The one in motley here,
	The other found out there.

KING LEAR	Dost thou call me fool, boy?

Fool	All thy other titles thou hast given away; that
	thou wast born with.

KENT	This is not altogether fool, my lord.

Fool	No, faith, lords and great men will not let me; if
	I had a monopoly out, they would have part on't:
	and ladies too, they will not let me have all fool
	to myself; they'll be snatching. Give me an egg,
	nuncle, and I'll give thee two crowns.

KING LEAR	What two crowns shall they be?

Fool	Why, after I have cut the egg i' the middle, and eat
	up the meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou
	clovest thy crown i' the middle, and gavest away
	both parts, thou borest thy ass on thy back o'er
	the dirt: thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown,
	when thou gavest thy golden one away. If I speak
	like myself in this, let him be whipped that first
	finds it so.

	[Singing]

	Fools had ne'er less wit in a year;
	For wise men are grown foppish,
	They know not how their wits to wear,
	Their manners are so apish.

KING LEAR	When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah?

Fool	I have used it, nuncle, ever since thou madest thy
	daughters thy mothers: for when thou gavest them
	the rod, and put'st down thine own breeches,

	[Singing]

	Then they for sudden joy did weep,
	And I for sorrow sung,
	That such a king should play bo-peep,
	And go the fools among.

	Prithee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach
	thy fool to lie: I would fain learn to lie.

KING LEAR	An you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipped.

Fool	I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are:
	they'll have me whipped for speaking true, thou'lt
	have me whipped for lying; and sometimes I am
	whipped for holding my peace. I had rather be any
	kind o' thing than a fool: and yet I would not be
	thee, nuncle; thou hast pared thy wit o' both sides,
	and left nothing i' the middle: here comes one o'
	the parings.

	[Enter GONERIL]

KING LEAR	How now, daughter! what makes that frontlet on?
	Methinks you are too much of late i' the frown.

Fool	Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need to
	care for her frowning; now thou art an O without a
	figure: I am better than thou art now; I am a fool,
	thou art nothing.

	[To GONERIL]

	Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue; so your face
	bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum,
	He that keeps nor crust nor crum,
	Weary of all, shall want some.

	[Pointing to KING LEAR]

	That's a shealed peascod.

GONERIL	Not only, sir, this your all-licensed fool,
	But other of your insolent retinue
	Do hourly carp and quarrel; breaking forth
	In rank and not-to-be endured riots. Sir,
	I had thought, by making this well known unto you,
	To have found a safe redress; but now grow fearful,
	By what yourself too late have spoke and done.
	That you protect this course, and put it on
	By your allowance; which if you should, the fault
	Would not 'scape censure, nor the redresses sleep,
	Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal,
	Might in their working do you that offence,
	Which else were shame, that then necessity
	Will call discreet proceeding.

Fool	For, you trow, nuncle,
	The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long,
	That it's had it head bit off by it young.
	So, out went the candle, and we were left darkling.

KING LEAR	Are you our daughter?

GONERIL	Come, sir,
	I would you would make use of that good wisdom,
	Whereof I know you are fraught; and put away
	These dispositions, that of late transform you
	From what you rightly are.

Fool	May not an ass know when the cart
	draws the horse? Whoop, Jug! I love thee.

KING LEAR	Doth any here know me? This is not Lear:
	Doth Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are his eyes?
	Either his notion weakens, his discernings
	Are lethargied--Ha! waking? 'tis not so.
	Who is it that can tell me who I am?

Fool	Lear's shadow.

KING LEAR	I would learn that; for, by the
	marks of sovereignty, knowledge, and reason,
	I should be false persuaded I had daughters.

Fool	Which they will make an obedient father.

KING LEAR	Your name, fair gentlewoman?

GONERIL	This admiration, sir, is much o' the savour
	Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you
	To understand my purposes aright:
	As you are old and reverend, you should be wise.
	Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires;
	Men so disorder'd, so debosh'd and bold,
	That this our court, infected with their manners,
	Shows like a riotous inn: epicurism and lust
	Make it more like a tavern or a brothel
	Than a graced palace. The shame itself doth speak
	For instant remedy: be then desired
	By her, that else will take the thing she begs,
	A little to disquantity your train;
	And the remainder, that shall still depend,
	To be such men as may besort your age,
	And know themselves and you.

KING LEAR	Darkness and devils!
	Saddle my horses; call my train together:
	Degenerate bastard! I'll not trouble thee.
	Yet have I left a daughter.

GONERIL	You strike my people; and your disorder'd rabble
	Make servants of their betters.

	[Enter ALBANY]

KING LEAR	Woe, that too late repents,--

	[To ALBANY]

		        O, sir, are you come?
	Is it your will? Speak, sir. Prepare my horses.
	Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend,
	More hideous when thou show'st thee in a child
	Than the sea-monster!

ALBANY	Pray, sir, be patient.

KING LEAR	[To GONERIL]  Detested kite! thou liest.
	My train are men of choice and rarest parts,
	That all particulars of duty know,
	And in the most exact regard support
	The worships of their name. O most small fault,
	How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show!
	That, like an engine, wrench'd my frame of nature
	From the fix'd place; drew from heart all love,
	And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!
	Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in,

	[Striking his head]

	And thy dear judgment out! Go, go, my people.

ALBANY	My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant
	Of what hath moved you.

KING LEAR	It may be so, my lord.
	Hear, nature, hear; dear goddess, hear!
	Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend
	To make this creature fruitful!
	Into her womb convey sterility!
	Dry up in her the organs of increase;
	And from her derogate body never spring
	A babe to honour her! If she must teem,
	Create her child of spleen; that it may live,
	And be a thwart disnatured torment to her!
	Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth;
	With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks;
	Turn all her mother's pains and benefits
	To laughter and contempt; that she may feel
	How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
	To have a thankless child! Away, away!

	[Exit]

ALBANY	Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this?

GONERIL	Never afflict yourself to know the cause;
	But let his disposition have that scope
	That dotage gives it.

	[Re-enter KING LEAR]

KING LEAR	What, fifty of my followers at a clap!
	Within a fortnight!

ALBANY	What's the matter, sir?


KING LEAR	I'll tell thee:

	[To GONERIL]

	Life and death! I am ashamed
	That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus;
	That these hot tears, which break from me perforce,
	Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon thee!
	The untented woundings of a father's curse
	Pierce every sense about thee! Old fond eyes,
	Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck ye out,
	And cast you, with the waters that you lose,
	To temper clay. Yea, it is come to this?
	Let is be so: yet have I left a daughter,
	Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable:
	When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails
	She'll flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find
	That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think
	I have cast off for ever: thou shalt,
	I warrant thee.

	[Exeunt KING LEAR, KENT, and Attendants]

GONERIL	Do you mark that, my lord?

ALBANY	I cannot be so partial, Goneril,
	To the great love I bear you,--

GONERIL	Pray you, content. What, Oswald, ho!

	[To the Fool]

	You, sir, more knave than fool, after your master.

Fool	Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry and take the fool
	with thee.
	A fox, when one has caught her,
	And such a daughter,
	Should sure to the slaughter,
	If my cap would buy a halter:
	So the fool follows after.

	[Exit]

GONERIL	This man hath had good counsel:--a hundred knights!
	'Tis politic and safe to let him keep
	At point a hundred knights: yes, that, on every dream,
	Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike,
	He may enguard his dotage with their powers,
	And hold our lives in mercy. Oswald, I say!

ALBANY	Well, you may fear too far.

GONERIL	Safer than trust too far:
	Let me still take away the harms I fear,
	Not fear still to be taken: I know his heart.
	What he hath utter'd I have writ my sister
	If she sustain him and his hundred knights
	When I have show'd the unfitness,--

	[Re-enter OSWALD]

		                  How now, Oswald!
	What, have you writ that letter to my sister?

OSWALD	Yes, madam.

GONERIL	Take you some company, and away to horse:
	Inform her full of my particular fear;
	And thereto add such reasons of your own
	As may compact it more. Get you gone;
	And hasten your return.

	[Exit OSWALD]

		  No, no, my lord,
	This milky gentleness and course of yours
	Though I condemn not, yet, under pardon,
	You are much more attask'd for want of wisdom
	Than praised for harmful mildness.

ALBANY	How far your eyes may pierce I can not tell:
	Striving to better, oft we mar what's well.

GONERIL	Nay, then--

ALBANY	Well, well; the event.

	[Exeunt]




	KING LEAR


ACT I



SCENE V	Court before the same.


	[Enter KING LEAR, KENT, and Fool]

KING LEAR	Go you before to Gloucester with these letters.
	Acquaint my daughter no further with any thing you
	know than comes from her demand out of the letter.
	If your diligence be not speedy, I shall be there afore you.

KENT	I will not sleep, my lord, till I have delivered
	your letter.

	[Exit]

Fool	If a man's brains were in's heels, were't not in
	danger of kibes?

KING LEAR	Ay, boy.

Fool	Then, I prithee, be merry; thy wit shall ne'er go
	slip-shod.

KING LEAR	Ha, ha, ha!

Fool	Shalt see thy other daughter will use thee kindly;
	for though she's as like this as a crab's like an
	apple, yet I can tell what I can tell.

KING LEAR	Why, what canst thou tell, my boy?

Fool	She will taste as like this as a crab does to a
	crab. Thou canst tell why one's nose stands i'
	the middle on's face?

KING LEAR	No.

Fool	Why, to keep one's eyes of either side's nose; that
	what a man cannot smell out, he may spy into.

KING LEAR	I did her wrong--

Fool	Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell?

KING LEAR	No.

Fool	Nor I neither; but I can tell why a snail has a house.

KING LEAR	Why?

Fool	Why, to put his head in; not to give it away to his
	daughters, and leave his horns without a case.

KING LEAR	I will forget my nature. So kind a father! Be my
	horses ready?

Fool	Thy asses are gone about 'em. The reason why the
	seven stars are no more than seven is a pretty reason.

KING LEAR	Because they are not eight?

Fool	Yes, indeed: thou wouldst make a good fool.

KING LEAR	To take 't again perforce! Monster ingratitude!

Fool	If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I'ld have thee beaten
	for being old before thy time.

KING LEAR	How's that?

Fool	Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst
	been wise.

KING LEAR	O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven
	Keep me in temper: I would not be mad!

	[Enter Gentleman]

	How now! are the horses ready?

Gentleman	Ready, my lord.

KING LEAR	Come, boy.

Fool	She that's a maid now, and laughs at my departure,
	Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter.

	[Exeunt]




	KING LEAR


ACT II



SCENE I	GLOUCESTER's castle.


	[Enter EDMUND, and CURAN meets him]

EDMUND	Save thee, Curan.

CURAN	And you, sir. I have been with your father, and
	given him notice that the Duke of Cornwall and Regan
	his duchess will be here with him this night.

EDMUND	How comes that?

CURAN	Nay, I know not. You have heard of the news abroad;
	I mean the whispered ones, for they are yet but
	ear-kissing arguments?

EDMUND	Not I	pray you, what are they?

CURAN	Have you heard of no likely wars toward, 'twixt the
	Dukes of Cornwall and Albany?

EDMUND	Not a word.

CURAN	You may do, then, in time. Fare you well, sir.

	[Exit]

EDMUND	The duke be here to-night? The better! best!
	This weaves itself perforce into my business.
	My father hath set guard to take my brother;
	And I have one thing, of a queasy question,
	Which I must act: briefness and fortune, work!
	Brother, a word; descend: brother, I say!

	[Enter EDGAR]

	My father watches: O sir, fly this place;
	Intelligence is given where you are hid;
	You have now the good advantage of the night:
	Have you not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornwall?
	He's coming hither: now, i' the night, i' the haste,
	And Regan with him: have you nothing said
	Upon his party 'gainst the Duke of Albany?
	Advise yourself.

EDGAR	                  I am sure on't, not a word.

EDMUND	I hear my father coming: pardon me:
	In cunning I must draw my sword upon you
	Draw; seem to defend yourself; now quit you well.
	Yield: come before my father. Light, ho, here!
	Fly, brother. Torches, torches! So, farewell.

	[Exit EDGAR]

	Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion.

	[Wounds his arm]

	Of my more fierce endeavour: I have seen drunkards
	Do more than this in sport. Father, father!
	Stop, stop! No help?

	[Enter GLOUCESTER, and Servants with torches]

GLOUCESTER	Now, Edmund, where's the villain?

EDMUND	Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out,
	Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon
	To stand auspicious mistress,--

GLOUCESTER	But where is he?

EDMUND	Look, sir, I bleed.

GLOUCESTER	Where is the villain, Edmund?

EDMUND	Fled this way, sir. When by no means he could--

GLOUCESTER	Pursue him, ho! Go after.

	[Exeunt some Servants]

		     By no means what?

EDMUND	Persuade me to the murder of your lordship;
	But that I told him, the revenging gods
	'Gainst parricides did all their thunders bend;
	Spoke, with how manifold and strong a bond
	The child was bound to the father; sir, in fine,
	Seeing how loathly opposite I stood
	To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion,
	With his prepared sword, he charges home
	My unprovided body, lanced mine arm:
	But when he saw my best alarum'd spirits,
	Bold in the quarrel's right, roused to the encounter,
	Or whether gasted by the noise I made,
	Full suddenly he fled.

GLOUCESTER	Let him fly far:
	Not in this land shall he remain uncaught;
	And found--dispatch. The noble duke my master,
	My worthy arch and patron, comes to-night:
	By his authority I will proclaim it,
	That he which finds him shall deserve our thanks,
	Bringing the murderous coward to the stake;
	He that conceals him, death.

EDMUND	When I dissuaded him from his intent,
	And found him pight to do it, with curst speech
	I threaten'd to discover him: he replied,
	'Thou unpossessing bastard! dost thou think,
	If I would stand against thee, would the reposal
	Of any trust, virtue, or worth in thee
	Make thy words faith'd? No: what I should deny,--
	As this I would: ay, though thou didst produce
	My very character,--I'ld turn it all
	To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practise:
	And thou must make a dullard of the world,
	If they not thought the profits of my death
	Were very pregnant and potential spurs
	To make thee seek it.'

GLOUCESTER	Strong and fasten'd villain
	Would he deny his letter? I never got him.

	[Tucket within]

	Hark, the duke's trumpets! I know not why he comes.
	All ports I'll bar; the villain shall not 'scape;
	The duke must grant me that: besides, his picture
	I will send far and near, that all the kingdom
	May have the due note of him; and of my land,
	Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means
	To make thee capable.

	[Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, and Attendants]

CORNWALL	How now, my noble friend! since I came hither,
	Which I can call but now, I have heard strange news.

REGAN	If it be true, all vengeance comes too short
	Which can pursue the offender. How dost, my lord?

GLOUCESTER	O, madam, my old heart is crack'd, it's crack'd!

REGAN	What, did my father's godson seek your life?
	He whom my father named? your Edgar?

GLOUCESTER	O, lady, lady, shame would have it hid!

REGAN	Was he not companion with the riotous knights
	That tend upon my father?

GLOUCESTER	I know not, madam: 'tis too bad, too bad.

EDMUND	Yes, madam, he was of that consort.

REGAN	No marvel, then, though he were ill affected:
	'Tis they have put him on the old man's death,
	To have the expense and waste of his revenues.
	I have this present evening from my sister
	Been well inform'd of them; and with such cautions,
	That if they come to sojourn at my house,
	I'll not be there.

CORNWALL	Nor I, assure thee, Regan.
	Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father
	A child-like office.

EDMUND	'Twas my duty, sir.

GLOUCESTER	He did bewray his practise; and received
	This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.

CORNWALL	Is he pursued?

GLOUCESTER	                  Ay, my good lord.

CORNWALL	If he be taken, he shall never more
	Be fear'd of doing harm: make your own purpose,
	How in my strength you please. For you, Edmund,
	Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant
	So much commend itself, you shall be ours:
	Natures of such deep trust we shall much need;
	You we first seize on.

EDMUND	I shall serve you, sir,
	Truly, however else.

GLOUCESTER	For him I thank your grace.

CORNWALL	You know not why we came to visit you,--

REGAN	Thus out of season, threading dark-eyed night:
	Occasions, noble Gloucester, of some poise,
	Wherein we must have use of your advice:
	Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister,
	Of differences, which I least thought it fit
	To answer from our home; the several messengers
	From hence attend dispatch. Our good old friend,
	Lay comforts to your bosom; and bestow
	Your needful counsel to our business,
	Which craves the instant use.

GLOUCESTER	I serve you, madam:
	Your graces are right welcome.

	[Exeunt]




	KING LEAR


ACT II



SCENE II	Before Gloucester's castle.


	[Enter KENT and OSWALD, severally]

OSWALD	Good dawning to thee, friend: art of this house?

KENT	Ay.

OSWALD	Where may we set our horses?

KENT	I' the mire.

OSWALD	Prithee, if thou lovest me, tell me.

KENT	I love thee not.

OSWALD	Why, then, I care not for thee.

KENT	If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would make thee
	care for me.

OSWALD	Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not.

KENT	Fellow, I know thee.

OSWALD	What dost thou know me for?

KENT	A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a
	base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited,
	hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a
	lily-livered, action-taking knave, a whoreson,
	glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue;
	one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a
	bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but
	the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar,
	and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I
	will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniest
	the least syllable of thy addition.

OSWALD	Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to rail
	on one that is neither known of thee nor knows thee!

KENT	What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to deny thou
	knowest me! Is it two days ago since I tripped up
	thy heels, and beat thee before the king? Draw, you
	rogue: for, though it be night, yet the moon
	shines; I'll make a sop o' the moonshine of you:
	draw, you whoreson cullionly barber-monger, draw.

	[Drawing his sword]

OSWALD	Away! I have nothing to do with thee.

KENT	Draw, you rascal: you come with letters against the
	king; and take vanity the puppet's part against the
	royalty of her father: draw, you rogue, or I'll so
	carbonado your shanks: draw, you rascal; come your ways.

OSWALD	Help, ho! murder! help!

KENT	Strike, you slave; stand, rogue, stand; you neat
	slave, strike.

	[Beating him]

OSWALD	Help, ho! murder! murder!

	[Enter EDMUND, with his rapier drawn, CORNWALL,
	REGAN, GLOUCESTER, and Servants]

EDMUND	How now! What's the matter?

KENT	With you, goodman boy, an you please: come, I'll
	flesh ye; come on, young master.

GLOUCESTER	Weapons! arms! What 's the matter here?

CORNWALL	Keep peace, upon your lives:
	He dies that strikes again. What is the matter?

REGAN	The messengers from our sister and the king.

CORNWALL	What is your difference? speak.

OSWALD	I am scarce in breath, my lord.

KENT	No marvel, you have so bestirred your valour. You
	cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in thee: a
	tailor made thee.

CORNWALL	Thou art a strange fellow: a tailor make a man?

KENT	Ay, a tailor, sir: a stone-cutter or painter could
	not have made him so ill, though he had been but two
	hours at the trade.

CORNWALL	Speak yet, how grew your quarrel?

OSWALD	This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spared
	at suit of his gray beard,--

KENT	Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter! My
	lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this
	unbolted villain into mortar, and daub the wall of
	a jakes with him. Spare my gray beard, you wagtail?

CORNWALL	Peace, sirrah!
	You beastly knave, know you no reverence?

KENT	Yes, sir; but anger hath a privilege.

CORNWALL	Why art thou angry?

KENT	That such a slave as this should wear a sword,
	Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these,
	Like rats, oft bite the holy cords a-twain
	Which are too intrinse t' unloose; smooth every passion
	That in the natures of their lords rebel;
	Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods;
	Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks
	With every gale and vary of their masters,
	Knowing nought, like dogs, but following.
	A plague upon your epileptic visage!
	Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool?
	Goose, if I had you upon Sarum plain,
	I'ld drive ye cackling home to Camelot.

CORNWALL	Why, art thou mad, old fellow?

GLOUCESTER	How fell you out? say that.

KENT	No contraries hold more antipathy
	Than I and such a knave.

CORNWALL	Why dost thou call him a knave?  What's his offence?

KENT	His countenance likes me not.

CORNWALL	No more, perchance, does mine, nor his, nor hers.

KENT	Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain:
	I have seen better faces in my time
	Than stands on any shoulder that I see
	Before me at this instant.

CORNWALL	This is some fellow,
	Who, having been praised for bluntness, doth affect
	A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb
	Quite from his nature: he cannot flatter, he,
	An honest mind and plain, he must speak truth!
	An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain.
	These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness
	Harbour more craft and more corrupter ends
	Than twenty silly ducking observants
	That stretch their duties nicely.

KENT	Sir, in good sooth, in sincere verity,
	Under the allowance of your great aspect,
	Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire
	On flickering Phoebus' front,--

CORNWALL	What mean'st by this?

KENT	To go out of my dialect, which you
	discommend so much. I know, sir, I am no
	flatterer: he that beguiled you in a plain
	accent was a plain knave; which for my part
	I will not be, though I should win your displeasure
	to entreat me to 't.

CORNWALL	What was the offence you gave him?

OSWALD	I never gave him any:
	It pleased the king his master very late
	To strike at me, upon his misconstruction;
	When he, conjunct and flattering his displeasure,
	Tripp'd me behind; being down, insulted, rail'd,
	And put upon him such a deal of man,
	That worthied him, got praises of the king
	For him attempting who was self-subdued;
	And, in the fleshment of this dread exploit,
	Drew on me here again.

KENT	None of these rogues and cowards
	But Ajax is their fool.

CORNWALL	Fetch forth the stocks!
	You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend braggart,
	We'll teach you--

KENT	                  Sir, I am too old to learn:
	Call not your stocks for me: I serve the king;
	On whose employment I was sent to you:
	You shall do small respect, show too bold malice
	Against the grace and person of my master,
	Stocking his messenger.

CORNWALL	Fetch forth the stocks! As I have life and honour,
	There shall he sit till noon.

REGAN	Till noon! till night, my lord; and all night too.

KENT	Why, madam, if I were your father's dog,
	You should not use me so.

REGAN	Sir, being his knave, I will.

CORNWALL	This is a fellow of the self-same colour
	Our sister speaks of. Come, bring away the stocks!

	[Stocks brought out]

GLOUCESTER	Let me beseech your grace not to do so:
	His fault is much, and the good king his master
	Will cheque him for 't: your purposed low correction
	Is such as basest and contemned'st wretches
	For pilferings and most common trespasses
	Are punish'd with: the king must take it ill,
	That he's so slightly valued in his messenger,
	Should have him thus restrain'd.

CORNWALL	I'll answer that.

REGAN	My sister may receive it much more worse,
	To have her gentleman abused, assaulted,
	For following her affairs. Put in his legs.

	[KENT is put in the stocks]

	Come, my good lord, away.

	[Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER and KENT]

GLOUCESTER	I am sorry for thee, friend; 'tis the duke's pleasure,
	Whose disposition, all the world well knows,
	Will not be rubb'd nor stopp'd: I'll entreat for thee.

KENT	Pray, do not, sir: I have watched and travell'd hard;
	Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle.
	A good man's fortune may grow out at heels:
	Give you good morrow!

GLOUCESTER	The duke's to blame in this; 'twill be ill taken.

	[Exit]

KENT	Good king, that must approve the common saw,
	Thou out of heaven's benediction comest
	To the warm sun!
	Approach, thou beacon to this under globe,
	That by thy comfortable beams I may
	Peruse this letter! Nothing almost sees miracles
	But misery: I know 'tis from Cordelia,
	Who hath most fortunately been inform'd
	Of my obscured course; and shall find time
	From this enormous state, seeking to give
	Losses their remedies. All weary and o'erwatch'd,
	Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold
	This shameful lodging.
	Fortune, good night: smile once more: turn thy wheel!

	[Sleeps]




	KING LEAR


ACT II



SCENE III	A wood.


	[Enter EDGAR]

EDGAR	I heard myself proclaim'd;
	And by the happy hollow of a tree
	Escaped the hunt. No port is free; no place,
	That guard, and most unusual vigilance,
	Does not attend my taking. Whiles I may 'scape,
	I will preserve myself: and am bethought
	To take the basest and most poorest shape
	That ever penury, in contempt of man,
	Brought near to beast: my face I'll grime with filth;
	Blanket my loins: elf all my hair in knots;
	And with presented nakedness out-face
	The winds and persecutions of the sky.
	The country gives me proof and precedent
	Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices,
	Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms
	Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary;
	And with this horrible object, from low farms,
	Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes, and mills,
	Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers,
	Enforce their charity. Poor Turlygod! poor Tom!
	That's something yet: Edgar I nothing am.

	[Exit]




	KING LEAR


ACT II



SCENE IV	Before GLOUCESTER's castle. KENT in the stocks.


	[Enter KING LEAR, Fool, and Gentleman]

KING LEAR	'Tis strange that they should so depart from home,
	And not send back my messenger.

Gentleman	As I learn'd,
	The night before there was no purpose in them
	Of this remove.

KENT	                  Hail to thee, noble master!

KING LEAR	Ha!
	Makest thou this shame thy pastime?

KENT	No, my lord.

Fool	Ha, ha! he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied
	by the heads, dogs and bears by the neck, monkeys by
	the loins, and men by the legs: when a man's
	over-lusty at legs, then he wears wooden
	nether-stocks.

KING LEAR	What's he that hath so much thy place mistook
	To set thee here?

KENT	                  It is both he and she;
	Your son and daughter.

KING LEAR	No.

KENT	Yes.

KING LEAR	No, I say.

KENT	I say, yea.

KING LEAR	No, no, they would not.

KENT	Yes, they have.

KING LEAR	By Jupiter, I swear, no.

KENT	By Juno, I swear, ay.

KING LEAR	They durst not do 't;
	They could not, would not do 't; 'tis worse than murder,
	To do upon respect such violent outrage:
	Resolve me, with all modest haste, which way
	Thou mightst deserve, or they impose, this usage,
	Coming from us.

KENT	                  My lord, when at their home
	I did commend your highness' letters to them,
	Ere I was risen from the place that show'd
	My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post,
	Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth
	From Goneril his mistress salutations;
	Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission,
	Which presently they read: on whose contents,
	They summon'd up their meiny, straight took horse;
	Commanded me to follow, and attend
	The leisure of their answer; gave me cold looks:
	And meeting here the other messenger,
	Whose welcome, I perceived, had poison'd mine,--
	Being the very fellow that of late
	Display'd so saucily against your highness,--
	Having more man than wit about me, drew:
	He raised the house with loud and coward cries.
	Your son and daughter found this trespass worth
	The shame which here it suffers.

Fool	Winter's not gone yet, if the wild-geese fly that way.
	Fathers that wear rags
	Do make their children blind;
	But fathers that bear bags
	Shall see their children kind.
	Fortune, that arrant whore,
	Ne'er turns the key to the poor.
	But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours
	for thy daughters as thou canst tell in a year.

KING LEAR	O, how this mother swells up toward my heart!
	Hysterica passio, down, thou climbing sorrow,
	Thy element's below! Where is this daughter?

KENT	With the earl, sir, here within.

KING LEAR	Follow me not;
	Stay here.

	[Exit]

Gentleman	Made you no more offence but what you speak of?

KENT	None.
	How chance the king comes with so small a train?

Fool	And thou hadst been set i' the stocks for that
	question, thou hadst well deserved it.

KENT	Why, fool?

Fool	We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee
	there's no labouring i' the winter. All that follow
	their noses are led by their eyes but blind men; and
	there's not a nose among twenty but can smell him
	that's stinking. Let go thy hold when a great wheel
	runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with
	following it: but the great one that goes up the
	hill, let him draw thee after. When a wise man
	gives thee better counsel, give me mine again: I
	would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it.
	That sir which serves and seeks for gain,
	And follows but for form,
	Will pack when it begins to rain,
	And leave thee in the storm,
	But I will tarry; the fool will stay,
	And let the wise man fly:
	The knave turns fool that runs away;
	The fool no knave, perdy.

KENT	Where learned you this, fool?

Fool	Not i' the stocks, fool.

	[Re-enter KING LEAR with GLOUCESTER]

KING LEAR	Deny to speak with me? They are sick? they are weary?
	They have travell'd all the night? Mere fetches;
	The images of revolt and flying off.
	Fetch me a better answer.

GLOUCESTER	My dear lord,
	You know the fiery quality of the duke;
	How unremoveable and fix'd he is
	In his own course.

KING LEAR	Vengeance! plague! death! confusion!
	Fiery? what quality? Why, Gloucester, Gloucester,
	I'ld speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife.

GLOUCESTER	Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them so.

KING LEAR	Inform'd them! Dost thou understand me, man?

GLOUCESTER	Ay, my good lord.

KING LEAR	The king would speak with Cornwall; the dear father
	Would with his daughter speak, commands her service:
	Are they inform'd of this? My breath and blood!
	Fiery? the fiery duke? Tell the hot duke that--
	No, but not yet: may be he is not well:
	Infirmity doth still neglect all office
	Whereto our health is bound; we are not ourselves
	When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind
	To suffer with the body: I'll forbear;
	And am fall'n out with my more headier will,
	To take the indisposed and sickly fit
	For the sound man. Death on my state! wherefore

	[Looking on KENT]

	Should he sit here? This act persuades me
	That this remotion of the duke and her
	Is practise only. Give me my servant forth.
	Go tell the duke and 's wife I'ld speak with them,
	Now, presently: bid them come forth and hear me,
	Or at their chamber-door I'll beat the drum
	Till it cry sleep to death.

GLOUCESTER	I would have all well betwixt you.

	[Exit]

KING LEAR	O me, my heart, my rising heart! but, down!

Fool	Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels
	when she put 'em i' the paste alive; she knapped 'em
	o' the coxcombs with a stick, and cried 'Down,
	wantons, down!' 'Twas her brother that, in pure
	kindness to his horse, buttered his hay.

	[Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, GLOUCESTER, and Servants]

KING LEAR	Good morrow to you both.

CORNWALL	Hail to your grace!

	[KENT is set at liberty]

REGAN	I am glad to see your highness.

KING LEAR	Regan, I think you are; I know what reason
	I have to think so: if thou shouldst not be glad,
	I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb,
	Sepulchring an adultress.

	[To KENT]

		    O, are you free?
	Some other time for that. Beloved Regan,
	Thy sister's naught: O Regan, she hath tied
	Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here:

	[Points to his heart]

	I can scarce speak to thee; thou'lt not believe
	With how depraved a quality--O Regan!

REGAN	I pray you, sir, take patience: I have hope.
	You less know how to value her desert
	Than she to scant her duty.

KING LEAR	Say, how is that?

REGAN	I cannot think my sister in the least
	Would fail her obligation: if, sir, perchance
	She have restrain'd the riots of your followers,
	'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end,
	As clears her from all blame.

KING LEAR	My curses on her!

REGAN	                  O, sir, you are old.
	Nature in you stands on the very verge
	Of her confine: you should be ruled and led
	By some discretion, that discerns your state
	Better than you yourself. Therefore, I pray you,
	That to our sister you do make return;
	Say you have wrong'd her, sir.

KING LEAR	Ask her forgiveness?
	Do you but mark how this becomes the house:
	'Dear daughter, I confess that I am old;

	[Kneeling]

	Age is unnecessary: on my knees I beg
	That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.'

REGAN	Good sir, no more; these are unsightly tricks:
	Return you to my sister.

KING LEAR	[Rising]  Never, Regan:
	She hath abated me of half my train;
	Look'd black upon me; struck me with her tongue,
	Most serpent-like, upon the very heart:
	All the stored vengeances of heaven fall
	On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones,
	You taking airs, with lameness!

CORNWALL	Fie, sir, fie!

KING LEAR	You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames
	Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty,
	You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the powerful sun,
	To fall and blast her pride!

REGAN	O the blest gods! so will you wish on me,
	When the rash mood is on.

KING LEAR	No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse:
	Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give
	Thee o'er to harshness: her eyes are fierce; but thine
	Do comfort and not burn. 'Tis not in thee
	To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,
	To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,
	And in conclusion to oppose the bolt
	Against my coming in: thou better know'st
	The offices of nature, bond of childhood,
	Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude;
	Thy half o' the kingdom hast thou not forgot,
	Wherein I thee endow'd.

REGAN	Good sir, to the purpose.

KING LEAR	Who put my man i' the stocks?

	[Tucket within]

CORNWALL	What trumpet's that?

REGAN	I know't, my sister's: this approves her letter,
	That she would soon be here.

	[Enter OSWALD]

		       Is your lady come?

KING LEAR	This is a slave, whose easy-borrow'd pride
	Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows.
	Out, varlet, from my sight!

CORNWALL	What means your grace?

KING LEAR	Who stock'd my servant? Regan, I have good hope
	Thou didst not know on't. Who comes here? O heavens,

	[Enter GONERIL]

	If you do love old men, if your sweet sway
	Allow obedience, if yourselves are old,
	Make it your cause; send down, and take my part!

	[To GONERIL]

	Art not ashamed to look upon this beard?
	O Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand?

GONERIL	Why not by the hand, sir? How have I offended?
	All's not offence that indiscretion finds
	And dotage terms so.

KING LEAR	O sides, you are too tough;
	Will you yet hold? How came my man i' the stocks?

CORNWALL	I set him there, sir: but his own disorders
	Deserved much less advancement.

KING LEAR	You! did you?

REGAN	I pray you, father, being weak, seem so.
	If, till the expiration of your month,
	You will return and sojourn with my sister,
	Dismissing half your train, come then to me:
	I am now from home, and out of that provision
	Which shall be needful for your entertainment.

KING LEAR	Return to her, and fifty men dismiss'd?
	No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose
	To wage against the enmity o' the air;
	To be a comrade with the wolf and owl,--
	Necessity's sharp pinch! Return with her?
	Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took
	Our youngest born, I could as well be brought
	To knee his throne, and, squire-like; pension beg
	To keep base life afoot. Return with her?
	Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter
	To this detested groom.

	[Pointing at OSWALD]

GONERIL	At your choice, sir.

KING LEAR	I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad:
	I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell:
	We'll no more meet, no more see one another:
	But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter;
	Or rather a disease that's in my flesh,
	Which I must needs call mine: thou art a boil,
	A plague-sore, an embossed carbuncle,
	In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee;
	Let shame come when it will, I do not call it:
	I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot,
	Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove:
	Mend when thou canst; be better at thy leisure:
	I can be patient; I can stay with Regan,
	I and my hundred knights.

REGAN	Not altogether so:
	I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided
	For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister;
	For those that mingle reason with your passion
	Must be content to think you old, and so--
	But she knows what she does.

KING LEAR	Is this well spoken?

REGAN	I dare avouch it, sir: what, fifty followers?
	Is it not well? What should you need of more?
	Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger
	Speak 'gainst so great a number? How, in one house,
	Should many people, under two commands,
	Hold amity? 'Tis hard; almost impossible.

GONERIL	Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance
	From those that she calls servants or from mine?

REGAN	Why not, my lord? If then they chanced to slack you,
	We could control them. If you will come to me,--
	For now I spy a danger,--I entreat you
	To bring but five and twenty: to no more
	Will I give place or notice.

KING LEAR	I gave you all--

REGAN	                  And in good time you gave it.

KING LEAR	Made you my guardians, my depositaries;
	But kept a reservation to be follow'd
	With such a number. What, must I come to you
	With five and twenty, Regan? said you so?

REGAN	And speak't again, my lord; no more with me.

KING LEAR	Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour'd,
	When others are more wicked: not being the worst
	Stands in some rank of praise.

	[To GONERIL]

		         I'll go with thee:
	Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty,
	And thou art twice her love.

GONERIL	Hear me, my lord;
	What need you five and twenty, ten, or five,
	To follow in a house where twice so many
	Have a command to tend you?

REGAN	What need one?

KING LEAR	O, reason not the need: our basest beggars
	Are in the poorest thing superfluous:
	Allow not nature more than nature needs,
	Man's life's as cheap as beast's: thou art a lady;
	If only to go warm were gorgeous,
	Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st,
	Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true need,--
	You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need!
	You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,
	As full of grief as age; wretched in both!
	If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts
	Against their father, fool me not so much
	To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger,
	And let not women's weapons, water-drops,
	Stain my man's cheeks! No, you unnatural hags,
	I will have such revenges on you both,
	That all the world shall--I will do such things,--
	What they are, yet I know not: but they shall be
	The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep
	No, I'll not weep:
	I have full cause of weeping; but this heart
	Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws,
	Or ere I'll weep. O fool, I shall go mad!

	[Exeunt KING LEAR, GLOUCESTER, KENT, and Fool]

	[Storm and tempest]

CORNWALL	Let us withdraw; 'twill be a storm.

REGAN	This house is little: the old man and his people
	Cannot be well bestow'd.

GONERIL	'Tis his own blame; hath put himself from rest,
	And must needs taste his folly.

REGAN	For his particular, I'll receive him gladly,
	But not one follower.

GONERIL	So am I purposed.
	Where is my lord of Gloucester?

CORNWALL	Follow'd the old man forth: he is return'd.

	[Re-enter GLOUCESTER]

GLOUCESTER	The king is in high rage.

CORNWALL	Whither is he going?

GLOUCESTER	He calls to horse; but will I know not whither.

CORNWALL	'Tis best to give him way; he leads himself.

GONERIL	My lord, entreat him by no means to stay.

GLOUCESTER	Alack, the night comes on, and the bleak winds
	Do sorely ruffle; for many miles about
	There's scarce a bush.

REGAN	O, sir, to wilful men,
	The injuries that they themselves procure
	Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors:
	He is attended with a desperate train;
	And what they may incense him to, being apt
	To have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear.

CORNWALL	Shut up your doors, my lord; 'tis a wild night:
	My Regan counsels well; come out o' the storm.

	[Exeunt]



	KING LEAR


ACT III



SCENE I	A heath.


	[Storm still. Enter KENT and a Gentleman, meeting]

KENT	Who's there, besides foul weather?

Gentleman	One minded like the weather, most unquietly.

KENT	I know you. Where's the king?

Gentleman	Contending with the fretful element:
	Bids the winds blow the earth into the sea,
	Or swell the curled water 'bove the main,
	That things might change or cease; tears his white hair,
	Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage,
	Catch in their fury, and make nothing of;
	Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn
	The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain.
	This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch,
	The lion and the belly-pinched wolf
	Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs,
	And bids what will take all.

KENT	But who is with him?

Gentleman	None but the fool; who labours to out-jest
	His heart-struck injuries.

KENT	Sir, I do know you;
	And dare, upon the warrant of my note,
	Commend a dear thing to you. There is division,
	Although as yet the face of it be cover'd
	With mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall;
	Who have--as who have not, that their great stars
	Throned and set high?--servants, who seem no less,
	Which are to France the spies and speculations
	Intelligent of our state; what hath been seen,
	Either in snuffs and packings of the dukes,
	Or the hard rein which both of them have borne
	Against the old kind king; or something deeper,
	Whereof perchance these are but furnishings;
	But, true it is, from France there comes a power
	Into this scatter'd kingdom; who already,
	Wise in our negligence, have secret feet
	In some of our best ports, and are at point
	To show their open banner. Now to you:
	If on my credit you dare build so far
	To make your speed to Dover, you shall find
	Some that will thank you, making just report
	Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow
	The king hath cause to plain.
	I am a gentleman of blood and breeding;
	And, from some knowledge and assurance, offer
	This office to you.

Gentleman	I will talk further with you.

KENT	No, do not.
	For confirmation that I am much more
	Than my out-wall, open this purse, and take
	What it contains. If you shall see Cordelia,--
	As fear not but you shall,--show her this ring;
	And she will tell you who your fellow is
	That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm!
	I will go seek the king.

Gentleman	Give me your hand: have you no more to say?

KENT	Few words, but, to effect, more than all yet;
	That, when we have found the king,--in which your pain
	That way, I'll this,--he that first lights on him
	Holla the other.

	[Exeunt severally]




	KING LEAR


ACT III



SCENE II	Another part of the heath. Storm still.


	[Enter KING LEAR and Fool]

KING LEAR	Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
	You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
	Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
	You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
	Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
	Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
	Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
	Crack nature's moulds, an germens spill at once,
	That make ingrateful man!

Fool	O nuncle, court holy-water in a dry
	house is better than this rain-water out o' door.
	Good nuncle, in, and ask thy daughters' blessing:
	here's a night pities neither wise man nor fool.

KING LEAR	Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! spout, rain!
	Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters:
	I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness;
	I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children,
	You owe me no subscription: then let fall
	Your horrible pleasure: here I stand, your slave,
	A poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man:
	But yet I call you servile ministers,
	That have with two pernicious daughters join'd
	Your high engender'd battles 'gainst a head
	So old and white as this. O! O! 'tis foul!

Fool	He that has a house to put's head in has a good
	head-piece.
	The cod-piece that will house
	Before the head has any,
	The head and he shall louse;
	So beggars marry many.
	The man that makes his toe
	What he his heart should make
	Shall of a corn cry woe,
	And turn his sleep to wake.
	For there was never yet fair woman but she made
	mouths in a glass.

KING LEAR	No, I will be the pattern of all patience;
	I will say nothing.

	[Enter KENT]

KENT	Who's there?

Fool	Marry, here's grace and a cod-piece; that's a wise
	man and a fool.

KENT	Alas, sir, are you here? things that love night
	Love not such nights as these; the wrathful skies
	Gallow the very wanderers of the dark,
	And make them keep their caves: since I was man,
	Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder,
	Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never
	Remember to have heard: man's nature cannot carry
	The affliction nor the fear.

KING LEAR	Let the great gods,
	That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads,
	Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch,
	That hast within thee undivulged crimes,
	Unwhipp'd of justice: hide thee, thou bloody hand;
	Thou perjured, and thou simular man of virtue
	That art incestuous: caitiff, to pieces shake,
	That under covert and convenient seeming
	Hast practised on man's life: close pent-up guilts,
	Rive your concealing continents, and cry
	These dreadful summoners grace. I am a man
	More sinn'd against than sinning.

KENT	Alack, bare-headed!
	Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel;
	Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest:
	Repose you there; while I to this hard house--
	More harder than the stones whereof 'tis raised;
	Which even but now, demanding after you,
	Denied me to come in--return, and force
	Their scanted courtesy.

KING LEAR	My wits begin to turn.
	Come on, my boy: how dost, my boy? art cold?
	I am cold myself. Where is this straw, my fellow?
	The art of our necessities is strange,
	That can make vile things precious. Come,
	your hovel.
	Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart
	That's sorry yet for thee.

Fool	[Singing]

	He that has and a little tiny wit--
	With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,--
	Must make content with his fortunes fit,
	For the rain it raineth every day.

KING LEAR	True, my good boy. Come, bring us to this hovel.

	[Exeunt KING LEAR and KENT]

Fool	This is a brave night to cool a courtezan.
	I'll speak a prophecy ere I go:
	When priests are more in word than matter;
	When brewers mar their malt with water;
	When nobles are their tailors' tutors;
	No heretics burn'd, but wenches' suitors;
	When every case in law is right;
	No squire in debt, nor no poor knight;
	When slanders do not live in tongues;
	Nor cutpurses come not to throngs;
	When usurers tell their gold i' the field;
	And bawds and whores do churches build;
	Then shall the realm of Albion
	Come to great confusion:
	Then comes the time, who lives to see't,
	That going shall be used with feet.
	This prophecy Merlin shall make; for I live before his time.

	[Exit]




	KING LEAR


ACT III



SCENE III	Gloucester's castle.


	[Enter GLOUCESTER and EDMUND]

GLOUCESTER	Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural
	dealing. When I desire their leave that I might
	pity him, they took from me the use of mine own
	house; charged me, on pain of their perpetual
	displeasure, neither to speak of him, entreat for
	him, nor any way sustain him.

EDMUND	Most savage and unnatural!

GLOUCESTER	Go to; say you nothing. There's a division betwixt
	the dukes; and a worse matter than that: I have
	received a letter this night; 'tis dangerous to be
	spoken; I have locked the letter in my closet:
	these injuries the king now bears will be revenged
	home; there's part of a power already footed: we
	must incline to the king. I will seek him, and
	privily relieve him: go you and maintain talk with
	the duke, that my charity be not of him perceived:
	if he ask for me. I am ill, and gone to bed.
	Though I die for it, as no less is threatened me,
	the king my old master must be relieved. There is
	some strange thing toward, Edmund; pray you, be careful.

	[Exit]

EDMUND	This courtesy, forbid thee, shall the duke
	Instantly know; and of that letter too:
	This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me
	That which my father loses; no less than all:
	The younger rises when the old doth fall.

	[Exit]




	KING LEAR


ACT III



SCENE IV	The heath. Before a hovel.


	[Enter KING LEAR, KENT, and Fool]

KENT	Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter:
	The tyranny of the open night's too rough
	For nature to endure.

	[Storm still]

KING LEAR	Let me alone.

KENT	Good my lord, enter here.

KING LEAR	Wilt break my heart?

KENT	I had rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter.

KING LEAR	Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storm
	Invades us to the skin: so 'tis to thee;
	But where the greater malady is fix'd,
	The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'ldst shun a bear;
	But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea,
	Thou'ldst meet the bear i' the mouth. When the
	mind's free,
	The body's delicate: the tempest in my mind
	Doth from my senses take all feeling else
	Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude!
	Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand
	For lifting food to't? But I will punish home:
	No, I will weep no more. In such a night
	To shut me out! Pour on; I will endure.
	In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril!
	Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all,--
	O, that way madness lies; let me shun that;
	No more of that.

KENT	                  Good my lord, enter here.

KING LEAR	Prithee, go in thyself: seek thine own ease:
	This tempest will not give me leave to ponder
	On things would hurt me more. But I'll go in.

	[To the Fool]

	In, boy; go first. You houseless poverty,--
	Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.

	[Fool goes in]

	Poor naked wretches, whereso'er you are,
	That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
	How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
	Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you
	From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en
	Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp;
	Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
	That thou mayst shake the superflux to them,
	And show the heavens more just.

EDGAR	[Within]  Fathom and half, fathom and half! Poor Tom!

	[The Fool runs out from the hovel]

Fool	Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit
	Help me, help me!

KENT	Give me thy hand. Who's there?

Fool	A spirit, a spirit: he says his name's poor Tom.

KENT	What art thou that dost grumble there i' the straw?
	Come forth.

	[Enter EDGAR disguised as a mad man]

EDGAR	Away! the foul fiend follows me!
	Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind.
	Hum! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.

KING LEAR	Hast thou given all to thy two daughters?
	And art thou come to this?

EDGAR	Who gives any thing to poor Tom? whom the foul
	fiend hath led through fire and through flame, and
	through ford and whirlipool e'er bog and quagmire;
	that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters
	in his pew; set ratsbane by his porridge; made film
	proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting-horse over
	four-inched bridges, to course his own shadow for a
	traitor. Bless thy five wits! Tom's a-cold,--O, do
	de, do de, do de. Bless thee from whirlwinds,
	star-blasting, and taking! Do poor Tom some
	charity, whom the foul fiend vexes: there could I
	have him now,--and there,--and there again, and there.

	[Storm still]

KING LEAR	What, have his daughters brought him to this pass?
	Couldst thou save nothing? Didst thou give them all?

Fool	Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been all shamed.

KING LEAR	Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous air
	Hang fated o'er men's faults light on thy daughters!

KENT	He hath no daughters, sir.

KING LEAR	Death, traitor! nothing could have subdued nature
	To such a lowness but his unkind daughters.
	Is it the fashion, that discarded fathers
	Should have thus little mercy on their flesh?
	Judicious punishment! 'twas this flesh begot
	Those pelican daughters.

EDGAR	Pillicock sat on Pillicock-hill:
	Halloo, halloo, loo, loo!

Fool	This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.

EDGAR	Take heed o' the foul fiend: obey thy parents;
	keep thy word justly; swear not; commit not with
	man's sworn spouse; set not thy sweet heart on proud
	array. Tom's a-cold.

KING LEAR	What hast thou been?

EDGAR	A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curled
	my hair; wore gloves in my cap; served the lust of
	my mistress' heart, and did the act of darkness with
	her; swore as many oaths as I spake words, and
	broke them in the sweet face of heaven: one that
	slept in the contriving of lust, and waked to do it:
	wine loved I deeply, dice dearly: and in woman
	out-paramoured the Turk: false of heart, light of
	ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth,
	wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey.
	Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of
	silks betray thy poor heart to woman: keep thy foot
	out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen
	from lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend.
	Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind:
	Says suum, mun, ha, no, nonny.
	Dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa! let him trot by.

	[Storm still]

KING LEAR	Why, thou wert better in thy grave than to answer
	with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies.
	Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou
	owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep
	no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha! here's three on
	's are sophisticated! Thou art the thing itself:
	unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor bare,
	forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings!
	come unbutton here.

	[Tearing off his clothes]

Fool	Prithee, nuncle, be contented; 'tis a naughty night
	to swim in. Now a little fire in a wild field were
	like an old lecher's heart; a small spark, all the
	rest on's body cold. Look, here comes a walking fire.

	[Enter GLOUCESTER, with a torch]

EDGAR	This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet: he begins
	at curfew, and walks till the first cock; he gives
	the web and the pin, squints the eye, and makes the
	hare-lip; mildews the white wheat, and hurts the
	poor creature of earth.
	S. Withold footed thrice the old;
	He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold;
	Bid her alight,
	And her troth plight,
	And, aroint thee, witch, aroint thee!

KENT	How fares your grace?

KING LEAR	What's he?

KENT	Who's there? What is't you seek?

GLOUCESTER	What are you there? Your names?

EDGAR	Poor Tom; that eats the swimming frog, the toad,
	the tadpole, the wall-newt and the water; that in
	the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages,
	eats cow-dung for sallets; swallows the old rat and
	the ditch-dog; drinks the green mantle of the
	standing pool; who is whipped from tithing to
	tithing, and stock- punished, and imprisoned; who
	hath had three suits to his back, six shirts to his
	body, horse to ride, and weapon to wear;
	But mice and rats, and such small deer,
	Have been Tom's food for seven long year.
	Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin; peace, thou fiend!

GLOUCESTER	What, hath your grace no better company?

EDGAR	The prince of darkness is a gentleman:
	Modo he's call'd, and Mahu.

GLOUCESTER	Our flesh and blood is grown so vile, my lord,
	That it doth hate what gets it.

EDGAR	Poor Tom's a-cold.

GLOUCESTER	Go in with me: my duty cannot suffer
	To obey in all your daughters' hard commands:
	Though their injunction be to bar my doors,
	And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you,
	Yet have I ventured to come seek you out,
	And bring you where both fire and food is ready.

KING LEAR	First let me talk with this philosopher.
	What is the cause of thunder?

KENT	Good my lord, take his offer; go into the house.

KING LEAR	I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban.
	What is your study?

EDGAR	How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin.

KING LEAR	Let me ask you one word in private.

KENT	Importune him once more to go, my lord;
	His wits begin to unsettle.

GLOUCESTER	Canst thou blame him?

	[Storm still]

	His daughters seek his death: ah, that good Kent!
	He said it would be thus, poor banish'd man!
	Thou say'st the king grows mad; I'll tell thee, friend,
	I am almost mad myself: I had a son,
	Now outlaw'd from my blood; he sought my life,
	But lately, very late: I loved him, friend;
	No father his son dearer: truth to tell thee,
	The grief hath crazed my wits. What a night's this!
	I do beseech your grace,--

KING LEAR	O, cry your mercy, sir.
	Noble philosopher, your company.

EDGAR	Tom's a-cold.

GLOUCESTER	In, fellow, there, into the hovel: keep thee warm.

KING LEAR	Come let's in all.

KENT	                  This way, my lord.

KING LEAR	With him;
	I will keep still with my philosopher.

KENT	Good my lord, soothe him; let him take the fellow.

GLOUCESTER	Take him you on.

KENT	Sirrah, come on; go along with us.

KING LEAR	Come, good Athenian.

GLOUCESTER	No words, no words: hush.

EDGAR	      Child Rowland to the dark tower came,
	His word was still,--Fie, foh, and fum,
	I smell the blood of a British man.

	[Exeunt]




	KING LEAR


ACT III



SCENE V	Gloucester's castle.


	[Enter CORNWALL and EDMUND]

CORNWALL	I will have my revenge ere I depart his house.

EDMUND	How, my lord, I may be censured, that nature thus
	gives way to loyalty, something fears me to think
	of.

CORNWALL	I now perceive, it was not altogether your
	brother's evil disposition made him seek his death;
	but a provoking merit, set a-work by a reprovable
	badness in himself.

EDMUND	How malicious is my fortune, that I must repent to
	be just! This is the letter he spoke of, which
	approves him an intelligent party to the advantages
	of France: O heavens! that this treason were not,
	or not I the detector!

CORNWALL	o with me to the duchess.

EDMUND	If the matter of this paper be certain, you have
	mighty business in hand.

CORNWALL	True or false, it hath made thee earl of
	Gloucester. Seek out where thy father is, that he
	may be ready for our apprehension.

EDMUND	[Aside]  If I find him comforting the king, it will
	stuff his suspicion more fully.--I will persevere in
	my course of loyalty, though the conflict be sore
	between that and my blood.

CORNWALL	I will lay trust upon thee; and thou shalt find a
	dearer father in my love.

	[Exeunt]




	KING LEAR


ACT III



SCENE VI	A chamber in a farmhouse adjoining the castle.


	[Enter GLOUCESTER, KING LEAR, KENT, Fool, and EDGAR]

GLOUCESTER	Here is better than the open air; take it
	thankfully. I will piece out the comfort with what
	addition I can: I will not be long from you.

KENT	All the power of his wits have given way to his
	impatience: the gods reward your kindness!

	[Exit GLOUCESTER]

EDGAR	Frateretto calls me; and tells me
	Nero is an angler in the lake of darkness.
	Pray, innocent, and beware the foul fiend.

Fool	Prithee, nuncle, tell me whether a madman be a
	gentleman or a yeoman?

KING LEAR	A king, a king!

Fool	No, he's a yeoman that has a gentleman to his son;
	for he's a mad yeoman that sees his son a gentleman
	before him.

KING LEAR	To have a thousand with red burning spits
	Come hissing in upon 'em,--

EDGAR	The foul fiend bites my back.

Fool	He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf, a
	horse's health, a boy's love, or a whore's oath.

KING LEAR	It shall be done; I will arraign them straight.

	[To EDGAR]

	Come, sit thou here, most learned justicer;

	[To the Fool]

	Thou, sapient sir, sit here. Now, you she foxes!

EDGAR	   Look, where he stands and glares!
	Wantest thou eyes at trial, madam?
	Come o'er the bourn, Bessy, to me,--

Fool	   Her boat hath a leak,
	And she must not speak
	Why she dares not come over to thee.

EDGAR	The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the voice of a
	nightingale. Hopdance cries in Tom's belly for two
	white herring. Croak not, black angel; I have no
	food for thee.

KENT	How do you, sir? Stand you not so amazed:
	Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions?

KING LEAR	I'll see their trial first. Bring in the evidence.

	[To EDGAR]

	Thou robed man of justice, take thy place;

	[To the Fool]

	And thou, his yoke-fellow of equity,
	Bench by his side:

	[To KENT]

	you are o' the commission,
	Sit you too.

EDGAR	Let us deal justly.
	Sleepest or wakest thou, jolly shepherd?
	Thy sheep be in the corn;
	And for one blast of thy minikin mouth,
	Thy sheep shall take no harm.
	Pur! the cat is gray.

KING LEAR	Arraign her first; 'tis Goneril. I here take my
	oath before this honourable assembly, she kicked the
	poor king her father.

Fool	Come hither, mistress. Is your name Goneril?

KING LEAR	She cannot deny it.

Fool	Cry you mercy, I took you for a joint-stool.

KING LEAR	And here's another, whose warp'd looks proclaim
	What store her heart is made on. Stop her there!
	Arms, arms, sword, fire! Corruption in the place!
	False justicer, why hast thou let her 'scape?

EDGAR	Bless thy five wits!

KENT	O pity! Sir, where is the patience now,
	That thou so oft have boasted to retain?

EDGAR	[Aside]  My tears begin to take his part so much,
	They'll mar my counterfeiting.

KING LEAR	The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanch, and
	Sweet-heart, see, they bark at me.

EDGAR	Tom will throw his head at them. Avaunt, you curs!
	Be thy mouth or black or white,
	Tooth that poisons if it bite;
	Mastiff, grey-hound, mongrel grim,
	Hound or spaniel, brach or lym,
	Or bobtail tike or trundle-tail,
	Tom will make them weep and wail:
	For, with throwing thus my head,
	Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled.
	Do de, de, de. Sessa! Come, march to wakes and
	fairs and market-towns. Poor Tom, thy horn is dry.

KING LEAR	Then let them anatomize Regan; see what breeds
	about her heart. Is there any cause in nature that
	makes these hard hearts?

	[To EDGAR]

	You, sir, I entertain for one of my hundred; only I
	do not like the fashion of your garments: you will
	say they are Persian attire: but let them be changed.

KENT	Now, good my lord, lie here and rest awhile.

KING LEAR	Make no noise, make no noise; draw the curtains:
	so, so, so. We'll go to supper i' he morning. So, so, so.

Fool	And I'll go to bed at noon.

	[Re-enter GLOUCESTER]

GLOUCESTER	Come hither, friend: where is the king my master?

KENT	Here, sir; but trouble him not, his wits are gone.

GLOUCESTER	Good friend, I prithee, take him in thy arms;
	I have o'erheard a plot of death upon him:
	There is a litter ready; lay him in 't,
	And drive towards Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet
	Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master:
	If thou shouldst dally half an hour, his life,
	With thine, and all that offer to defend him,
	Stand in assured loss: take up, take up;
	And follow me, that will to some provision
	Give thee quick conduct.

KENT	Oppressed nature sleeps:
	This rest might yet have balm'd thy broken senses,
	Which, if convenience will not allow,
	Stand in hard cure.

	[To the Fool]

	Come, help to bear thy master;
	Thou must not stay behind.

GLOUCESTER	Come, come, away.

	[Exeunt all but EDGAR]

EDGAR	When we our betters see bearing our woes,
	We scarcely think our miseries our foes.
	Who alone suffers suffers most i' the mind,
	Leaving free things and happy shows behind:
	But then the mind much sufferance doth o'er skip,
	When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship.
	How light and portable my pain seems now,
	When that which makes me bend makes the king bow,
	He childed as I father'd! Tom, away!
	Mark the high noises; and thyself bewray,
	When false opinion, whose wrong thought defiles thee,
	In thy just proof, repeals and reconciles thee.
	What will hap more to-night, safe 'scape the king!
	Lurk, lurk.

	[Exit]




	KING LEAR


ACT III



SCENE VII	Gloucester's castle.


	[Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, GONERIL, EDMUND, and Servants]

CORNWALL	Post speedily to my lord your husband; show him
	this letter: the army of France is landed. Seek
	out the villain Gloucester.

	[Exeunt some of the Servants]

REGAN	Hang him instantly.

GONERIL	Pluck out his eyes.

CORNWALL	Leave him to my displeasure. Edmund, keep you our
	sister company: the revenges we are bound to take
	upon your traitorous father are not fit for your
	beholding. Advise the duke, where you are going, to
	a most festinate preparation: we are bound to the
	like. Our posts shall be swift and intelligent
	betwixt us. Farewell, dear sister: farewell, my
	lord of Gloucester.

	[Enter OSWALD]

	How now! where's the king?

OSWALD	My lord of Gloucester hath convey'd him hence:
	Some five or six and thirty of his knights,
	Hot questrists after him, met him at gate;
	Who, with some other of the lords dependants,
	Are gone with him towards Dover; where they boast
	To have well-armed friends.

CORNWALL	Get horses for your mistress.

GONERIL	Farewell, sweet lord, and sister.

CORNWALL	Edmund, farewell.

	[Exeunt GONERIL, EDMUND, and OSWALD]

	Go seek the traitor Gloucester,
	Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us.

	[Exeunt other Servants]

	Though well we may not pass upon his life
	Without the form of justice, yet our power
	Shall do a courtesy to our wrath, which men
	May blame, but not control. Who's there? the traitor?

	[Enter GLOUCESTER, brought in by two or three]

REGAN	Ingrateful fox! 'tis he.

CORNWALL	Bind fast his corky arms.

GLOUCESTER	What mean your graces? Good my friends, consider
	You are my guests: do me no foul play, friends.

CORNWALL	Bind him, I say.

	[Servants bind him]

REGAN	                  Hard, hard. O filthy traitor!

GLOUCESTER	Unmerciful lady as you are, I'm none.

CORNWALL	To this chair bind him. Villain, thou shalt find--

	[REGAN plucks his beard]

GLOUCESTER	By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly done
	To pluck me by the beard.

REGAN	So white, and such a traitor!

GLOUCESTER	Naughty lady,
	These hairs, which thou dost ravish from my chin,
	Will quicken, and accuse thee: I am your host:
	With robbers' hands my hospitable favours
	You should not ruffle thus. What will you do?

CORNWALL	Come, sir, what letters had you late from France?

REGAN	Be simple answerer, for we know the truth.

CORNWALL	And what confederacy have you with the traitors
	Late footed in the kingdom?

REGAN	To whose hands have you sent the lunatic king? Speak.

GLOUCESTER	I have a letter guessingly set down,
	Which came from one that's of a neutral heart,
	And not from one opposed.

CORNWALL	Cunning.

REGAN	And false.

CORNWALL	Where hast thou sent the king?

GLOUCESTER	To Dover.

REGAN	Wherefore to Dover? Wast thou not charged at peril--

CORNWALL	Wherefore to Dover? Let him first answer that.

GLOUCESTER	I am tied to the stake, and I must stand the course.

REGAN	Wherefore to Dover, sir?

GLOUCESTER	Because I would not see thy cruel nails
	Pluck out his poor old eyes; nor thy fierce sister
	In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs.
	The sea, with such a storm as his bare head
	In hell-black night endured, would have buoy'd up,
	And quench'd the stelled fires:
	Yet, poor old heart, he holp the heavens to rain.
	If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern time,
	Thou shouldst have said 'Good porter, turn the key,'
	All cruels else subscribed: but I shall see
	The winged vengeance overtake such children.

CORNWALL	See't shalt thou never. Fellows, hold the chair.
	Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot.

GLOUCESTER	He that will think to live till he be old,
	Give me some help! O cruel! O you gods!

REGAN	One side will mock another; the other too.

CORNWALL	If you see vengeance,--

First Servant	Hold your hand, my lord:
	I have served you ever since I was a child;
	But better service have I never done you
	Than now to bid you hold.

REGAN	How now, you dog!

First Servant	If you did wear a beard upon your chin,
	I'd shake it on this quarrel. What do you mean?

CORNWALL	My villain!

	[They draw and fight]

First Servant	Nay, then, come on, and take the chance of anger.

REGAN	Give me thy sword. A peasant stand up thus!

	[Takes a sword, and runs at him behind]

First Servant	O, I am slain! My lord, you have one eye left
	To see some mischief on him. O!

	[Dies]

CORNWALL	Lest it see more, prevent it. Out, vile jelly!
	Where is thy lustre now?

GLOUCESTER	All dark and comfortless. Where's my son Edmund?
	Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature,
	To quit this horrid act.

REGAN	Out, treacherous villain!
	Thou call'st on him that hates thee: it was he
	That made the overture of thy treasons to us;
	Who is too good to pity thee.

GLOUCESTER	O my follies! then Edgar was abused.
	Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him!

REGAN	Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell
	His way to Dover.

	[Exit one with GLOUCESTER]

	How is't, my lord? how look you?

CORNWALL	I have received a hurt: follow me, lady.
	Turn out that eyeless villain; throw this slave
	Upon the dunghill. Regan, I bleed apace:
	Untimely comes this hurt: give me your arm.

	[Exit CORNWALL, led by REGAN]

Second Servant	I'll never care what wickedness I do,
	If this man come to good.

Third Servant	If she live long,
	And in the end meet the old course of death,
	Women will all turn monsters.

Second Servant	Let's follow the old earl, and get the Bedlam
	To lead him where he would: his roguish madness
	Allows itself to any thing.

Third Servant	Go thou: I'll fetch some flax and whites of eggs
	To apply to his bleeding face. Now, heaven help him!

	[Exeunt severally]




	KING LEAR


ACT IV



SCENE I	The heath.


	[Enter EDGAR]

EDGAR	Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd,
	Than still contemn'd and flatter'd. To be worst,
	The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune,
	Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear:
	The lamentable change is from the best;
	The worst returns to laughter. Welcome, then,
	Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace!
	The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst
	Owes nothing to thy blasts. But who comes here?

	[Enter GLOUCESTER, led by an Old Man]

	My father, poorly led? World, world, O world!
	But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee,
	Lie would not yield to age.

Old Man	O, my good lord, I have been your tenant, and
	your father's tenant, these fourscore years.

GLOUCESTER	Away, get thee away; good friend, be gone:
	Thy comforts can do me no good at all;
	Thee they may hurt.

Old Man	Alack, sir, you cannot see your way.

GLOUCESTER	I have no way, and therefore want no eyes;
	I stumbled when I saw: full oft 'tis seen,
	Our means secure us, and our mere defects
	Prove our commodities. O dear son Edgar,
	The food of thy abused father's wrath!
	Might I but live to see thee in my touch,
	I'ld say I had eyes again!

Old Man	How now! Who's there?

EDGAR	[Aside]  O gods! Who is't can say 'I am at
	the worst'?
	I am worse than e'er I was.

Old Man	'Tis poor mad Tom.

EDGAR	[Aside]  And worse I may be yet: the worst is not
	So long as we can say  'This is the worst.'

Old Man	Fellow, where goest?

GLOUCESTER	Is it a beggar-man?

Old Man	Madman and beggar too.

GLOUCESTER	He has some reason, else he could not beg.
	I' the last night's storm I such a fellow saw;
	Which made me think a man a worm: my son
	Came then into my mind; and yet my mind
	Was then scarce friends with him: I have heard
	more since.
	As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods.
	They kill us for their sport.

EDGAR	[Aside]	How should this be?
	Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow,
	Angering itself and others.--Bless thee, master!

GLOUCESTER	Is that the naked fellow?

Old Man	Ay, my lord.

GLOUCESTER	Then, prithee, get thee gone: if, for my sake,
	Thou wilt o'ertake us, hence a mile or twain,
	I' the way toward Dover, do it for ancient love;
	And bring some covering for this naked soul,
	Who I'll entreat to lead me.

Old Man	Alack, sir, he is mad.

GLOUCESTER	'Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind.
	Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure;
	Above the rest, be gone.

Old Man	I'll bring him the best 'parel that I have,
	Come on't what will.

	[Exit]

GLOUCESTER	Sirrah, naked fellow,--

EDGAR	Poor Tom's a-cold.

	[Aside]

	I cannot daub it further.

GLOUCESTER	Come hither, fellow.

EDGAR	[Aside]  And yet I must.--Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed.

GLOUCESTER	Know'st thou the way to Dover?

EDGAR	Both stile and gate, horse-way and foot-path. Poor
	Tom hath been scared out of his good wits: bless
	thee, good man's son, from the foul fiend! five
	fiends have been in poor Tom at once; of lust, as
	Obidicut; Hobbididence, prince of dumbness; Mahu, of
	stealing; Modo, of murder; Flibbertigibbet, of
	mopping and mowing, who since possesses chambermaids
	and waiting-women. So, bless thee, master!

GLOUCESTER	Here, take this purse, thou whom the heavens' plagues
	Have humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched
	Makes thee the happier: heavens, deal so still!
	Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man,
	That slaves your ordinance, that will not see
	Because he doth not feel, feel your power quickly;
	So distribution should undo excess,
	And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover?

EDGAR	Ay, master.

GLOUCESTER	There is a cliff, whose high and bending head
	Looks fearfully in the confined deep:
	Bring me but to the very brim of it,
	And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear
	With something rich about me: from that place
	I shall no leading need.

EDGAR	Give me thy arm:
	Poor Tom shall lead thee.

	[Exeunt]




	KING LEAR


ACT IV



SCENE II	Before ALBANY's palace.


	[Enter GONERIL and EDMUND]

GONERIL	Welcome, my lord: I marvel our mild husband
	Not met us on the way.

	[Enter OSWALD]

		 Now, where's your master'?

OSWALD	Madam, within; but never man so changed.
	I told him of the army that was landed;
	He smiled at it: I told him you were coming:
	His answer was 'The worse:' of Gloucester's treachery,
	And of the loyal service of his son,
	When I inform'd him, then he call'd me sot,
	And told me I had turn'd the wrong side out:
	What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him;
	What like, offensive.

GONERIL	[To EDMUND]  Then shall you go no further.
	It is the cowish terror of his spirit,
	That dares not undertake: he'll not feel wrongs
	Which tie him to an answer. Our wishes on the way
	May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother;
	Hasten his musters and conduct his powers:
	I must change arms at home, and give the distaff
	Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant
	Shall pass between us: ere long you are like to hear,
	If you dare venture in your own behalf,
	A mistress's command. Wear this; spare speech;

	[Giving a favour]

	Decline your head: this kiss, if it durst speak,
	Would stretch thy spirits up into the air:
	Conceive, and fare thee well.

EDMUND	Yours in the ranks of death.

GONERIL	My most dear Gloucester!

	[Exit EDMUND]

	O, the difference of man and man!
	To thee a woman's services are due:
	My fool usurps my body.

OSWALD	Madam, here comes my lord.

	[Exit]

	[Enter ALBANY]

GONERIL	I have been worth the whistle.

ALBANY	O Goneril!
	You are not worth the dust which the rude wind
	Blows in your face. I fear your disposition:
	That nature, which contemns its origin,
	Cannot be border'd certain in itself;
	She that herself will sliver and disbranch
	From her material sap, perforce must wither
	And come to deadly use.

GONERIL	No more; the text is foolish.

ALBANY	Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile:
	Filths savour but themselves. What have you done?
	Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform'd?
	A father, and a gracious aged man,
	Whose reverence even the head-lugg'd bear would lick,
	Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you madded.
	Could my good brother suffer you to do it?
	A man, a prince, by him so benefited!
	If that the heavens do not their visible spirits
	Send quickly down to tame these vile offences,
	It will come,
	Humanity must perforce prey on itself,
	Like monsters of the deep.

GONERIL	Milk-liver'd man!
	That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs;
	Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning
	Thine honour from thy suffering; that not know'st
	Fools do those villains pity who are punish'd
	Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy drum?
	France spreads his banners in our noiseless land;
	With plumed helm thy slayer begins threats;
	Whiles thou, a moral fool, sit'st still, and criest
	'Alack, why does he so?'

ALBANY	See thyself, devil!
	Proper deformity seems not in the fiend
	So horrid as in woman.

GONERIL	O vain fool!

ALBANY	Thou changed and self-cover'd thing, for shame,
	Be-monster not thy feature. Were't my fitness
	To let these hands obey my blood,
	They are apt enough to dislocate and tear
	Thy flesh and bones: howe'er thou art a fiend,
	A woman's shape doth shield thee.

GONERIL	Marry, your manhood now--

	[Enter a Messenger]

ALBANY	What news?

Messenger	O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead:
	Slain by his servant, going to put out
	The other eye of Gloucester.

ALBANY	Gloucester's eye!

Messenger	A servant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse,
	Opposed against the act, bending his sword
	To his great master; who, thereat enraged,
	Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead;
	But not without that harmful stroke, which since
	Hath pluck'd him after.

ALBANY	This shows you are above,
	You justicers, that these our nether crimes
	So speedily can venge! But, O poor Gloucester!
	Lost he his other eye?

Messenger	Both, both, my lord.
	This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer;
	'Tis from your sister.

GONERIL	[Aside]              One way I like this well;
	But being widow, and my Gloucester with her,
	May all the building in my fancy pluck
	Upon my hateful life: another way,
	The news is not so tart.--I'll read, and answer.

	[Exit]

ALBANY	Where was his son when they did take his eyes?

Messenger	Come with my lady hither.

ALBANY	He is not here.

Messenger	No, my good lord; I met him back again.

ALBANY	Knows he the wickedness?

Messenger	Ay, my good lord; 'twas he inform'd against him;
	And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment
	Might have the freer course.

ALBANY	Gloucester, I live
	To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the king,
	And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend:
	Tell me what more thou know'st.

	[Exeunt]




	KING LEAR


ACT IV



SCENE III	The French camp near Dover.


	[Enter KENT and a Gentleman]

KENT	Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back
	know you the reason?

Gentleman	Something he left imperfect in the
	state, which since his coming forth is thought
	of; which imports to the kingdom so much
	fear and danger, that his personal return was
	most required and necessary.

KENT	Who hath he left behind him general?

Gentleman	The Marshal of France, Monsieur La Far.

KENT	Did your letters pierce the queen to any
	demonstration of grief?

Gentleman	Ay, sir; she took them, read them in my presence;
	And now and then an ample tear trill'd down
	Her delicate cheek: it seem'd she was a queen
	Over her passion; who, most rebel-like,
	Sought to be king o'er her.

KENT	O, then it moved her.

Gentleman	Not to a rage: patience and sorrow strove
	Who should express her goodliest. You have seen
	Sunshine and rain at once: her smiles and tears
	Were like a better way: those happy smilets,
	That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know
	What guests were in her eyes; which parted thence,
	As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. In brief,
	Sorrow would be a rarity most beloved,
	If all could so become it.

KENT	Made she no verbal question?

Gentleman	'Faith, once or twice she heaved the name of 'father'
	Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart:
	Cried 'Sisters! sisters! Shame of ladies! sisters!
	Kent! father! sisters! What, i' the storm? i' the night?
	Let pity not be believed!' There she shook
	The holy water from her heavenly eyes,
	And clamour moisten'd: then away she started
	To deal with grief alone.

KENT	It is the stars,
	The stars above us, govern our conditions;
	Else one self mate and mate could not beget
	Such different issues. You spoke not with her since?

Gentleman	No.

KENT	Was this before the king return'd?

Gentleman	No, since.

KENT	Well, sir, the poor distressed Lear's i' the town;
	Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers
	What we are come about, and by no means
	Will yield to see his daughter.

Gentleman	Why, good sir?

KENT	A sovereign shame so elbows him: his own unkindness,
	That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd her
	To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights
	To his dog-hearted daughters, these things sting
	His mind so venomously, that burning shame
	Detains him from Cordelia.

Gentleman	Alack, poor gentleman!

KENT	Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you heard not?

Gentleman	'Tis so, they are afoot.

KENT	Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear,
	And leave you to attend him: some dear cause
	Will in concealment wrap me up awhile;
	When I am known aright, you shall not grieve
	Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you, go
	Along with me.

	[Exeunt]



	KING LEAR


ACT IV



SCENE IV	The same. A tent.


	[Enter, with drum and colours, CORDELIA, Doctor, and Soldiers]

CORDELIA	Alack, 'tis he: why, he was met even now
	As mad as the vex'd sea; singing aloud;
	Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds,
	With bur-docks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers,
	Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow
	In our sustaining corn. A century send forth;
	Search every acre in the high-grown field,
	And bring him to our eye.

	[Exit an Officer]

		    What can man's wisdom
	In the restoring his bereaved sense?
	He that helps him take all my outward worth.

Doctor	There is means, madam:
	Our foster-nurse of nature is repose,
	The which he lacks; that to provoke in him,
	Are many simples operative, whose power
	Will close the eye of anguish.

CORDELIA	All blest secrets,
	All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth,
	Spring with my tears! be aidant and remediate
	In the good man's distress! Seek, seek for him;
	Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life
	That wants the means to lead it.

	[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger	News, madam;
	The British powers are marching hitherward.

CORDELIA	'Tis known before; our preparation stands
	In expectation of them. O dear father,
	It is thy business that I go about;
	Therefore great France
	My mourning and important tears hath pitied.
	No blown ambition doth our arms incite,
	But love, dear love, and our aged father's right:
	Soon may I hear and see him!

	[Exeunt]




	KING LEAR


ACT IV



SCENE V	Gloucester's castle.


	[Enter REGAN and OSWALD]

REGAN	But are my brother's powers set forth?

OSWALD	Ay, madam.

REGAN	Himself in person there?

OSWALD	Madam, with much ado:
	Your sister is the better soldier.

REGAN	Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home?

OSWALD	No, madam.

REGAN	What might import my sister's letter to him?

OSWALD	I know not, lady.

REGAN	'Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter.
	It was great ignorance, Gloucester's eyes being out,
	To let him live: where he arrives he moves
	All hearts against us: Edmund, I think, is gone,
	In pity of his misery, to dispatch
	His nighted life: moreover, to descry
	The strength o' the enemy.

OSWALD	I must needs after him, madam, with my letter.

REGAN	Our troops set forth to-morrow: stay with us;
	The ways are dangerous.

OSWALD	I may not, madam:
	My lady charged my duty in this business.

REGAN	Why should she write to Edmund? Might not you
	Transport her purposes by word? Belike,
	Something--I know not what: I'll love thee much,
	Let me unseal the letter.

OSWALD	Madam, I had rather--

REGAN	I know your lady does not love her husband;
	I am sure of that: and at her late being here
	She gave strange oeillades and most speaking looks
	To noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosom.

OSWALD	I, madam?

REGAN	I speak in understanding; you are; I know't:
	Therefore I do advise you, take this note:
	My lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd;
	And more convenient is he for my hand
	Than for your lady's: you may gather more.
	If you do find him, pray you, give him this;
	And when your mistress hears thus much from you,
	I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her.
	So, fare you well.
	If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor,
	Preferment falls on him that cuts him off.

OSWALD	Would I could meet him, madam! I should show
	What party I do follow.

REGAN	Fare thee well.

	[Exeunt]




	KING LEAR


ACT IV



SCENE VI	Fields near Dover.


	[Enter GLOUCESTER, and EDGAR dressed like a peasant]

GLOUCESTER	When shall we come to the top of that same hill?

EDGAR	You do climb up it now: look, how we labour.

GLOUCESTER	Methinks the ground is even.

EDGAR	Horrible steep.
	Hark, do you hear the sea?

GLOUCESTER	No, truly.

EDGAR	Why, then, your other senses grow imperfect
	By your eyes' anguish.

GLOUCESTER	So may it be, indeed:
	Methinks thy voice is alter'd; and thou speak'st
	In better phrase and matter than thou didst.

EDGAR	You're much deceived: in nothing am I changed
	But in my garments.

GLOUCESTER	Methinks you're better spoken.

EDGAR	Come on, sir; here's the place: stand still. How fearful
	And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low!
	The crows and choughs that wing the midway air
	Show scarce so gross as beetles: half way down
	Hangs one that gathers samphire, dreadful trade!
	Methinks he seems no bigger than his head:
	The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,
	Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark,
	Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy
	Almost too small for sight: the murmuring surge,
	That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes,
	Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more;
	Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
	Topple down headlong.

GLOUCESTER	Set me where you stand.

EDGAR	Give me your hand: you are now within a foot
	Of the extreme verge: for all beneath the moon
	Would I not leap upright.

GLOUCESTER	Let go my hand.
	Here, friend, 's another purse; in it a jewel
	Well worth a poor man's taking: fairies and gods
	Prosper it with thee! Go thou farther off;
	Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.

EDGAR	Now fare you well, good sir.

GLOUCESTER	With all my heart.

EDGAR	Why I do trifle thus with his despair
	Is done to cure it.

GLOUCESTER	[Kneeling]  O you mighty gods!
	This world I do renounce, and, in your sights,
	Shake patiently my great affliction off:
	If I could bear it longer, and not fall
	To quarrel with your great opposeless wills,
	My snuff and loathed part of nature should
	Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him!
	Now, fellow, fare thee well.

	[He falls forward]

EDGAR	Gone, sir: farewell.
	And yet I know not how conceit may rob
	The treasury of life, when life itself
	Yields to the theft: had he been where he thought,
	By this, had thought been past. Alive or dead?
	Ho, you sir! friend! Hear you, sir! speak!
	Thus might he pass indeed: yet he revives.
	What are you, sir?

GLOUCESTER	                  Away, and let me die.

EDGAR	Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air,
	So many fathom down precipitating,
	Thou'dst shiver'd like an egg: but thou dost breathe;
	Hast heavy substance; bleed'st not; speak'st; art sound.
	Ten masts at each make not the altitude
	Which thou hast perpendicularly fell:
	Thy life's a miracle. Speak yet again.

GLOUCESTER	But have I fall'n, or no?

EDGAR	From the dread summit of this chalky bourn.
	Look up a-height; the shrill-gorged lark so far
	Cannot be seen or heard: do but look up.

GLOUCESTER	Alack, I have no eyes.
	Is wretchedness deprived that benefit,
	To end itself by death? 'Twas yet some comfort,
	When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage,
	And frustrate his proud will.

EDGAR	Give me your arm:
	Up: so. How is 't? Feel you your legs? You stand.

GLOUCESTER	Too well, too well.

EDGAR	This is above all strangeness.
	Upon the crown o' the cliff, what thing was that
	Which parted from you?

GLOUCESTER	A poor unfortunate beggar.

EDGAR	As I stood here below, methought his eyes
	Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses,
	Horns whelk'd and waved like the enridged sea:
	It was some fiend; therefore, thou happy father,
	Think that the clearest gods, who make them honours
	Of men's impossibilities, have preserved thee.

GLOUCESTER	I do remember now: henceforth I'll bear
	Affliction till it do cry out itself
	'Enough, enough,' and die. That thing you speak of,
	I took it for a man; often 'twould say
	'The fiend, the fiend:' he led me to that place.

EDGAR	Bear free and patient thoughts. But who comes here?

	[Enter KING LEAR, fantastically dressed with wild flowers]

	The safer sense will ne'er accommodate
	His master thus.

KING LEAR	No, they cannot touch me for coining; I am the
	king himself.

EDGAR	O thou side-piercing sight!

KING LEAR	Nature's above art in that respect. There's your
	press-money. That fellow handles his bow like a
	crow-keeper: draw me a clothier's yard. Look,
	look, a mouse! Peace, peace; this piece of toasted
	cheese will do 't. There's my gauntlet; I'll prove
	it on a giant. Bring up the brown bills. O, well
	flown, bird! i' the clout, i' the clout: hewgh!
	Give the word.

EDGAR	Sweet marjoram.

KING LEAR	Pass.

GLOUCESTER	I know that voice.

KING LEAR	Ha! Goneril, with a white beard! They flattered
	me like a dog; and told me I had white hairs in my
	beard ere the black ones were there. To say 'ay'
	and 'no' to every thing that I said!--'Ay' and 'no'
	too was no good divinity. When the rain came to
	wet me once, and the wind to make me chatter; when
	the thunder would not peace at my bidding; there I
	found 'em, there I smelt 'em out. Go to, they are
	not men o' their words: they told me I was every
	thing; 'tis a lie, I am not ague-proof.

GLOUCESTER	The trick of that voice I do well remember:
	Is 't not the king?

KING LEAR	Ay, every inch a king:
	When I do stare, see how the subject quakes.
	I pardon that man's life. What was thy cause? Adultery?
	Thou shalt not die: die for adultery! No:
	The wren goes to 't, and the small gilded fly
	Does lecher in my sight.
	Let copulation thrive; for Gloucester's bastard son
	Was kinder to his father than my daughters
	Got 'tween the lawful sheets.
	To 't, luxury, pell-mell! for I lack soldiers.
	Behold yond simpering dame,
	Whose face between her forks presages snow;
	That minces virtue, and does shake the head
	To hear of pleasure's name;
	The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to 't
	With a more riotous appetite.
	Down from the waist they are Centaurs,
	Though women all above:
	But to the girdle do the gods inherit,
	Beneath is all the fiends';
	There's hell, there's darkness, there's the
	sulphurous pit,
	Burning, scalding, stench, consumption; fie,
	fie, fie! pah, pah! Give me an ounce of civet,
	good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination:
	there's money for thee.

GLOUCESTER	O, let me kiss that hand!

KING LEAR	Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality.

GLOUCESTER	O ruin'd piece of nature! This great world
	Shall so wear out to nought. Dost thou know me?

KING LEAR	I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou squiny
	at me? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid! I'll not
	love. Read thou this challenge; mark but the
	penning of it.

GLOUCESTER	Were all the letters suns, I could not see one.

EDGAR	I would not take this from report; it is,
	And my heart breaks at it.

KING LEAR	Read.

GLOUCESTER	What, with the case of eyes?

KING LEAR	O, ho, are you there with me? No eyes in your
	head, nor no money in your purse? Your eyes are in
	a heavy case, your purse in a light; yet you see how
	this world goes.

GLOUCESTER	I see it feelingly.

KING LEAR	What, art mad? A man may see how this world goes
	with no eyes. Look with thine ears: see how yond
	justice rails upon yond simple thief. Hark, in
	thine ear: change places; and, handy-dandy, which
	is the justice, which is the thief? Thou hast seen
	a farmer's dog bark at a beggar?

GLOUCESTER	Ay, sir.

KING LEAR	And the creature run from the cur? There thou
	mightst behold the great image of authority: a
	dog's obeyed in office.
	Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand!
	Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back;
	Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind
	For which thou whipp'st her. The usurer hangs the cozener.
	Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear;
	Robes and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold,
	And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks:
	Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.
	None does offend, none, I say, none; I'll able 'em:
	Take that of me, my friend, who have the power
	To seal the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes;
	And like a scurvy politician, seem
	To see the things thou dost not. Now, now, now, now:
	Pull off my boots: harder, harder: so.

EDGAR	O, matter and impertinency mix'd! Reason in madness!

KING LEAR	If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes.
	I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloucester:
	Thou must be patient; we came crying hither:
	Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air,
	We wawl and cry. I will preach to thee: mark.

GLOUCESTER	Alack, alack the day!

KING LEAR	When we are born, we cry that we are come
	To this great stage of fools: this a good block;
	It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe
	A troop of horse with felt: I'll put 't in proof;
	And when I have stol'n upon these sons-in-law,
	Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!

	[Enter a Gentleman, with Attendants]

Gentleman	O, here he is: lay hand upon him. Sir,
	Your most dear daughter--

KING LEAR	No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even
	The natural fool of fortune. Use me well;
	You shall have ransom. Let me have surgeons;
	I am cut to the brains.

Gentleman	You shall have any thing.

KING LEAR	No seconds? all myself?
	Why, this would make a man a man of salt,
	To use his eyes for garden water-pots,
	Ay, and laying autumn's dust.

Gentleman	Good sir,--

KING LEAR	I will die bravely, like a bridegroom. What!
	I will be jovial: come, come; I am a king,
	My masters, know you that.

Gentleman	You are a royal one, and we obey you.

KING LEAR	Then there's life in't. Nay, if you get it, you
	shall get it with running. Sa, sa, sa, sa.

	[Exit running; Attendants follow]

Gentleman	A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch,
	Past speaking of in a king! Thou hast one daughter,
	Who redeems nature from the general curse
	Which twain have brought her to.

EDGAR	Hail, gentle sir.

Gentleman	                  Sir, speed you: what's your will?

EDGAR	Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward?

Gentleman	Most sure and vulgar: every one hears that,
	Which can distinguish sound.

EDGAR	But, by your favour,
	How near's the other army?

Gentleman	Near and on speedy foot; the main descry
	Stands on the hourly thought.

EDGAR	I thank you, sir: that's all.

Gentleman	Though that the queen on special cause is here,
	Her army is moved on.

EDGAR	I thank you, sir.

	[Exit Gentleman]

GLOUCESTER	You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me:
	Let not my worser spirit tempt me again
	To die before you please!

EDGAR	Well pray you, father.

GLOUCESTER	Now, good sir, what are you?

EDGAR	A most poor man, made tame to fortune's blows;
	Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows,
	Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand,
	I'll lead you to some biding.

GLOUCESTER	Hearty thanks:
	The bounty and the benison of heaven
	To boot, and boot!

	[Enter OSWALD]

OSWALD	A proclaim'd prize! Most happy!
	That eyeless head of thine was first framed flesh
	To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor,
	Briefly thyself remember: the sword is out
	That must destroy thee.

GLOUCESTER	Now let thy friendly hand
	Put strength enough to't.

	[EDGAR interposes]

OSWALD	Wherefore, bold peasant,
	Darest thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence;
	Lest that the infection of his fortune take
	Like hold on thee. Let go his arm.

EDGAR	Ch'ill not let go, zir, without vurther 'casion.

OSWALD	Let go, slave, or thou diest!

EDGAR	Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor volk
	pass. An chud ha' bin zwaggered out of my life,
	'twould not ha' bin zo long as 'tis by a vortnight.
	Nay, come not near th' old man; keep out, che vor
	ye, or ise try whether your costard or my ballow be
	the harder: ch'ill be plain with you.

OSWALD	Out, dunghill!

EDGAR	Ch'ill pick your teeth, zir: come; no matter vor
	your foins.

	[They fight, and EDGAR knocks him down]

OSWALD	Slave, thou hast slain me: villain, take my purse:
	If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body;
	And give the letters which thou find'st about me
	To Edmund earl of Gloucester; seek him out
	Upon the British party: O, untimely death!

	[Dies]

EDGAR	I know thee well: a serviceable villain;
	As duteous to the vices of thy mistress
	As badness would desire.

GLOUCESTER	What, is he dead?

EDGAR	Sit you down, father; rest you
	Let's see these pockets: the letters that he speaks of
	May be my friends. He's dead; I am only sorry
	He had no other death's-man. Let us see:
	Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not:
	To know our enemies' minds, we'ld rip their hearts;
	Their papers, is more lawful.

	[Reads]

	'Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have
	many opportunities to cut him off: if your will
	want not, time and place will be fruitfully offered.
	There is nothing done, if he return the conqueror:
	then am I the prisoner, and his bed my goal; from
	the loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and supply
	the place for your labour.
		'Your--wife, so I would say--
		'Affectionate servant,
		'GONERIL.'
	O undistinguish'd space of woman's will!
	A plot upon her virtuous husband's life;
	And the exchange my brother! Here, in the sands,
	Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified
	Of murderous lechers: and in the mature time
	With this ungracious paper strike the sight
	Of the death practised duke: for him 'tis well
	That of thy death and business I can tell.

GLOUCESTER	The king is mad: how stiff is my vile sense,
	That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling
	Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract:
	So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs,
	And woes by wrong imaginations lose
	The knowledge of themselves.

EDGAR	Give me your hand:

	[Drum afar off]

	Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum:
	Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend.

	[Exeunt]




	KING LEAR


ACT IV



SCENE VII	A tent in the French camp. LEAR on a bed asleep,
	soft music playing; Gentleman, and others attending.


	[Enter CORDELIA, KENT, and Doctor]

CORDELIA	O thou good Kent, how shall I live and work,
	To match thy goodness? My life will be too short,
	And every measure fail me.

KENT	To be acknowledged, madam, is o'erpaid.
	All my reports go with the modest truth;
	Nor more nor clipp'd, but so.

CORDELIA	Be better suited:
	These weeds are memories of those worser hours:
	I prithee, put them off.

KENT	Pardon me, dear madam;
	Yet to be known shortens my made intent:
	My boon I make it, that you know me not
	Till time and I think meet.

CORDELIA	Then be't so, my good lord.

	[To the Doctor]

		      How does the king?

Doctor	Madam, sleeps still.

CORDELIA	O you kind gods,
	Cure this great breach in his abused nature!
	The untuned and jarring senses, O, wind up
	Of this child-changed father!

Doctor	So please your majesty
	That we may wake the king: he hath slept long.

CORDELIA	Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed
	I' the sway of your own will. Is he array'd?

Gentleman	Ay, madam; in the heaviness of his sleep
	We put fresh garments on him.

Doctor	Be by, good madam, when we do awake him;
	I doubt not of his temperance.

CORDELIA	Very well.

Doctor	Please you, draw near. Louder the music there!

CORDELIA	O my dear father! Restoration hang
	Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss
	Repair those violent harms that my two sisters
	Have in thy reverence made!

KENT	Kind and dear princess!

CORDELIA	Had you not been their father, these white flakes
	Had challenged pity of them. Was this a face
	To be opposed against the warring winds?
	To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder?
	In the most terrible and nimble stroke
	Of quick, cross lightning? to watch--poor perdu!--
	With this thin helm? Mine enemy's dog,
	Though he had bit me, should have stood that night
	Against my fire; and wast thou fain, poor father,
	To hovel thee with swine, and rogues forlorn,
	In short and musty straw? Alack, alack!
	'Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once
	Had not concluded all. He wakes; speak to him.

Doctor	Madam, do you; 'tis fittest.

CORDELIA	How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty?

KING LEAR	You do me wrong to take me out o' the grave:
	Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound
	Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears
	Do scald like moulten lead.

CORDELIA	Sir, do you know me?

KING LEAR	You are a spirit, I know: when did you die?

CORDELIA	Still, still, far wide!

Doctor	He's scarce awake: let him alone awhile.

KING LEAR	Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight?
	I am mightily abused. I should e'en die with pity,
	To see another thus. I know not what to say.
	I will not swear these are my hands: let's see;
	I feel this pin prick. Would I were assured
	Of my condition!

CORDELIA	                  O, look upon me, sir,
	And hold your hands in benediction o'er me:
	No, sir, you must not kneel.

KING LEAR	Pray, do not mock me:
	I am a very foolish fond old man,
	Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less;
	And, to deal plainly,
	I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
	Methinks I should know you, and know this man;
	Yet I am doubtful for I am mainly ignorant
	What place this is; and all the skill I have
	Remembers not these garments; nor I know not
	Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me;
	For, as I am a man, I think this lady
	To be my child Cordelia.

CORDELIA	And so I am, I am.

KING LEAR	Be your tears wet? yes, 'faith. I pray, weep not:
	If you have poison for me, I will drink it.
	I know you do not love me; for your sisters
	Have, as I do remember, done me wrong:
	You have some cause, they have not.

CORDELIA	No cause, no cause.

KING LEAR	Am I in France?

KENT	                  In your own kingdom, sir.

KING LEAR	Do not abuse me.

Doctor	Be comforted, good madam: the great rage,
	You see, is kill'd in him: and yet it is danger
	To make him even o'er the time he has lost.
	Desire him to go in; trouble him no more
	Till further settling.

CORDELIA	Will't please your highness walk?

KING LEAR	You must bear with me:
	Pray you now, forget and forgive: I am old and foolish.

	[Exeunt all but KENT and Gentleman]

Gentleman	Holds it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain?

KENT	Most certain, sir.

Gentleman	Who is conductor of his people?

KENT	As 'tis said, the bastard son of Gloucester.

Gentleman	They say Edgar, his banished son, is with the Earl
	of Kent in Germany.

KENT	Report is changeable. 'Tis time to look about; the
	powers of the kingdom approach apace.

Gentleman	The arbitrement is like to be bloody. Fare you
	well, sir.

	[Exit]

KENT	My point and period will be throughly wrought,
	Or well or ill, as this day's battle's fought.

	[Exit]




	KING LEAR


ACT V



SCENE I	The British camp, near Dover.


	[Enter, with drum and colours, EDMUND, REGAN,
	Gentlemen, and Soldiers.

EDMUND	Know of the duke if his last purpose hold,
	Or whether since he is advised by aught
	To change the course: he's full of alteration
	And self-reproving: bring his constant pleasure.

	[To a Gentleman, who goes out]

REGAN	Our sister's man is certainly miscarried.

EDMUND	'Tis to be doubted, madam.

REGAN	Now, sweet lord,
	You know the goodness I intend upon you:
	Tell me--but truly--but then speak the truth,
	Do you not love my sister?

EDMUND	In honour'd love.

REGAN	But have you never found my brother's way
	To the forfended place?

EDMUND	That thought abuses you.

REGAN	I am doubtful that you have been conjunct
	And bosom'd with her, as far as we call hers.

EDMUND	No, by mine honour, madam.

REGAN	I never shall endure her: dear my lord,
	Be not familiar with her.

EDMUND	Fear me not:
	She and the duke her husband!

	[Enter, with drum and colours, ALBANY, GONERIL, and Soldiers]

GONERIL	[Aside]  I had rather lose the battle than that sister
	Should loosen him and me.

ALBANY	Our very loving sister, well be-met.
	Sir, this I hear; the king is come to his daughter,
	With others whom the rigor of our state
	Forced to cry out. Where I could not be honest,
	I never yet was valiant: for this business,
	It toucheth us, as France invades our land,
	Not bolds the king, with others, whom, I fear,
	Most just and heavy causes make oppose.

EDMUND	Sir, you speak nobly.

REGAN	Why is this reason'd?

GONERIL	Combine together 'gainst the enemy;
	For these domestic and particular broils
	Are not the question here.

ALBANY	Let's then determine
	With the ancient of war on our proceedings.

EDMUND	I shall attend you presently at your tent.

REGAN	Sister, you'll go with us?

GONERIL	No.

REGAN	'Tis most convenient; pray you, go with us.

GONERIL	[Aside]  O, ho, I know the riddle.--I will go.

	[As they are going out, enter EDGAR disguised]

EDGAR	If e'er your grace had speech with man so poor,
	Hear me one word.

ALBANY	                  I'll overtake you. Speak.

	[Exeunt all but ALBANY and EDGAR]

EDGAR	Before you fight the battle, ope this letter.
	If you have victory, let the trumpet sound
	For him that brought it: wretched though I seem,
	I can produce a champion that will prove
	What is avouched there. If you miscarry,
	Your business of the world hath so an end,
	And machination ceases. Fortune love you.

ALBANY	Stay till I have read the letter.

EDGAR	I was forbid it.
	When time shall serve, let but the herald cry,
	And I'll appear again.

ALBANY	Why, fare thee well: I will o'erlook thy paper.

	[Exit EDGAR]

	[Re-enter EDMUND]

EDMUND	The enemy's in view; draw up your powers.
	Here is the guess of their true strength and forces
	By diligent discovery; but your haste
	Is now urged on you.

ALBANY	We will greet the time.

	[Exit]

EDMUND	To both these sisters have I sworn my love;
	Each jealous of the other, as the stung
	Are of the adder. Which of them shall I take?
	Both? one? or neither? Neither can be enjoy'd,
	If both remain alive: to take the widow
	Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril;
	And hardly shall I carry out my side,
	Her husband being alive. Now then we'll use
	His countenance for the battle; which being done,
	Let her who would be rid of him devise
	His speedy taking off. As for the mercy
	Which he intends to Lear and to Cordelia,
	The battle done, and they within our power,
	Shall never see his pardon; for my state
	Stands on me to defend, not to debate.

	[Exit]




	KING LEAR


ACT V



SCENE II	A field between the two camps.


	[Alarum within. Enter, with drum and colours,
	KING LEAR, CORDELIA, and Soldiers, over the stage;
	and exeunt]

	[Enter EDGAR and GLOUCESTER]

EDGAR	Here, father, take the shadow of this tree
	For your good host; pray that the right may thrive:
	If ever I return to you again,
	I'll bring you comfort.

GLOUCESTER	Grace go with you, sir!

	[Exit EDGAR]

	[Alarum and retreat within. Re-enter EDGAR]

EDGAR	Away, old man; give me thy hand; away!
	King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta'en:
	Give me thy hand; come on.

GLOUCESTER	No farther, sir; a man may rot even here.

EDGAR	What, in ill thoughts again? Men must endure
	Their going hence, even as their coming hither;
	Ripeness is all: come on.

GLOUCESTER	And that's true too.

	[Exeunt]




	KING LEAR


ACT V



SCENE III	The British camp near Dover.


	[Enter, in conquest, with drum and colours, EDMUND,
	KING LEAR and CORDELIA, prisoners; Captain,
	Soldiers, &c]

EDMUND	Some officers take them away: good guard,
	Until their greater pleasures first be known
	That are to censure them.

CORDELIA	We are not the first
	Who, with best meaning, have incurr'd the worst.
	For thee, oppressed king, am I cast down;
	Myself could else out-frown false fortune's frown.
	Shall we not see these daughters and these sisters?

KING LEAR	No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to prison:
	We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage:
	When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down,
	And ask of thee forgiveness: so we'll live,
	And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh
	At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues
	Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too,
	Who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out;
	And take upon's the mystery of things,
	As if we were God's spies: and we'll wear out,
	In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones,
	That ebb and flow by the moon.

EDMUND	Take them away.

KING LEAR	Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia,
	The gods themselves throw incense. Have I caught thee?
	He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven,
	And fire us hence like foxes. Wipe thine eyes;
	The good-years shall devour them, flesh and fell,
	Ere they shall make us weep: we'll see 'em starve
	first. Come.

	[Exeunt KING LEAR and CORDELIA, guarded]

EDMUND	Come hither, captain; hark.
	Take thou this note;

	[Giving a paper]

		go follow them to prison:
	One step I have advanced thee; if thou dost
	As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way
	To noble fortunes: know thou this, that men
	Are as the time is: to be tender-minded
	Does not become a sword: thy great employment
	Will not bear question; either say thou'lt do 't,
	Or thrive by other means.

Captain	I'll do 't, my lord.

EDMUND	About it; and write happy when thou hast done.
	Mark, I say, instantly; and carry it so
	As I have set it down.

Captain	I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats;
	If it be man's work, I'll do 't.

	[Exit]

	[Flourish. Enter ALBANY, GONERIL, REGAN, another
	Captain, and Soldiers]

ALBANY	Sir, you have shown to-day your valiant strain,
	And fortune led you well: you have the captives
	That were the opposites of this day's strife:
	We do require them of you, so to use them
	As we shall find their merits and our safety
	May equally determine.

EDMUND	Sir, I thought it fit
	To send the old and miserable king
	To some retention and appointed guard;
	Whose age has charms in it, whose title more,
	To pluck the common bosom on his side,
	An turn our impress'd lances in our eyes
	Which do command them. With him I sent the queen;
	My reason all the same; and they are ready
	To-morrow, or at further space, to appear
	Where you shall hold your session. At this time
	We sweat and bleed: the friend hath lost his friend;
	And the best quarrels, in the heat, are cursed
	By those that feel their sharpness:
	The question of Cordelia and her father
	Requires a fitter place.

ALBANY	Sir, by your patience,
	I hold you but a subject of this war,
	Not as a brother.

REGAN	                  That's as we list to grace him.
	Methinks our pleasure might have been demanded,
	Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers;
	Bore the commission of my place and person;
	The which immediacy may well stand up,
	And call itself your brother.

GONERIL	Not so hot:
	In his own grace he doth exalt himself,
	More than in your addition.

REGAN	In my rights,
	By me invested, he compeers the best.

GONERIL	That were the most, if he should husband you.

REGAN	Jesters do oft prove prophets.

GONERIL	Holla, holla!
	That eye that told you so look'd but a-squint.

REGAN	Lady, I am not well; else I should answer
	From a full-flowing stomach. General,
	Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony;
	Dispose of them, of me; the walls are thine:
	Witness the world, that I create thee here
	My lord and master.

GONERIL	Mean you to enjoy him?

ALBANY	The let-alone lies not in your good will.

EDMUND	Nor in thine, lord.

ALBANY	Half-blooded fellow, yes.

REGAN	[To EDMUND]  Let the drum strike, and prove my title thine.

ALBANY	Stay yet; hear reason. Edmund, I arrest thee
	On capital treason; and, in thine attaint,
	This gilded serpent

	[Pointing to Goneril]

	For your claim, fair sister,
	I bar it in the interest of my wife:
	'Tis she is sub-contracted to this lord,
	And I, her husband, contradict your bans.
	If you will marry, make your loves to me,
	My lady is bespoke.

GONERIL	An interlude!

ALBANY	Thou art arm'd, Gloucester: let the trumpet sound:
	If none appear to prove upon thy head
	Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons,
	There is my pledge;

	[Throwing down a glove]

	I'll prove it on thy heart,
	Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less
	Than I have here proclaim'd thee.

REGAN	Sick, O, sick!

GONERIL	[Aside]  If not, I'll ne'er trust medicine.

EDMUND	There's my exchange:

	[Throwing down a glove]

		what in the world he is
	That names me traitor, villain-like he lies:
	Call by thy trumpet: he that dares approach,
	On him, on you, who not? I will maintain
	My truth and honour firmly.

ALBANY	A herald, ho!

EDMUND	                  A herald, ho, a herald!

ALBANY	Trust to thy single virtue; for thy soldiers,
	All levied in my name, have in my name
	Took their discharge.

REGAN	My sickness grows upon me.

ALBANY	She is not well; convey her to my tent.

	[Exit Regan, led]

	[Enter a Herald]

	Come hither, herald,--Let the trumpet sound,
	And read out this.

Captain	Sound, trumpet!

	[A trumpet sounds]

Herald	[Reads]  'If any man of quality or degree within
	the lists of the army will maintain upon Edmund,
	supposed Earl of Gloucester, that he is a manifold
	traitor, let him appear by the third sound of the
	trumpet: he is bold in his defence.'

EDMUND	Sound!

	[First trumpet]

Herald	Again!

	[Second trumpet]

Herald	Again!

	[Third trumpet]

	[Trumpet answers within]

	[Enter EDGAR, at the third sound, armed, with a
	trumpet before him]

ALBANY	Ask him his purposes, why he appears
	Upon this call o' the trumpet.

Herald	What are you?
	Your name, your quality? and why you answer
	This present summons?

EDGAR	Know, my name is lost;
	By treason's tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit:
	Yet am I noble as the adversary
	I come to cope.

ALBANY	                  Which is that adversary?

EDGAR	What's he that speaks for Edmund Earl of Gloucester?

EDMUND	Himself: what say'st thou to him?

EDGAR	Draw thy sword,
	That, if my speech offend a noble heart,
	Thy arm may do thee justice: here is mine.
	Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours,
	My oath, and my profession: I protest,
	Maugre thy strength, youth, place, and eminence,
	Despite thy victor sword and fire-new fortune,
	Thy valour and thy heart, thou art a traitor;
	False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father;
	Conspirant 'gainst this high-illustrious prince;
	And, from the extremest upward of thy head
	To the descent and dust below thy foot,
	A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou 'No,'
	This sword, this arm, and my best spirits, are bent
	To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak,
	Thou liest.

EDMUND	In wisdom I should ask thy name;
	But, since thy outside looks so fair and warlike,
	And that thy tongue some say of breeding breathes,
	What safe and nicely I might well delay
	By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn:
	Back do I toss these treasons to thy head;
	With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart;
	Which, for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise,
	This sword of mine shall give them instant way,
	Where they shall rest for ever. Trumpets, speak!

	[Alarums. They fight. EDMUND falls]

ALBANY	Save him, save him!

GONERIL	This is practise, Gloucester:
	By the law of arms thou wast not bound to answer
	An unknown opposite; thou art not vanquish'd,
	But cozen'd and beguiled.

ALBANY	Shut your mouth, dame,
	Or with this paper shall I stop it: Hold, sir:
	Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil:
	No tearing, lady: I perceive you know it.

	[Gives the letter to EDMUND]

GONERIL	Say, if I do, the laws are mine, not thine:
	Who can arraign me for't.

ALBANY	Most monstrous! oh!
	Know'st thou this paper?

GONERIL	Ask me not what I know.

	[Exit]

ALBANY	Go after her: she's desperate; govern her.

EDMUND	What you have charged me with, that have I done;
	And more, much more; the time will bring it out:
	'Tis past, and so am I. But what art thou
	That hast this fortune on me? If thou'rt noble,
	I do forgive thee.

EDGAR	                  Let's exchange charity.
	I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund;
	If more, the more thou hast wrong'd me.
	My name is Edgar, and thy father's son.
	The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices
	Make instruments to plague us:
	The dark and vicious place where thee he got
	Cost him his eyes.

EDMUND	                  Thou hast spoken right, 'tis true;
	The wheel is come full circle: I am here.

ALBANY	Methought thy very gait did prophesy
	A royal nobleness: I must embrace thee:
	Let sorrow split my heart, if ever I
	Did hate thee or thy father!

EDGAR	Worthy prince, I know't.

ALBANY	Where have you hid yourself?
	How have you known the miseries of your father?

EDGAR	By nursing them, my lord. List a brief tale;
	And when 'tis told, O, that my heart would burst!
	The bloody proclamation to escape,
	That follow'd me so near,--O, our lives' sweetness!
	That we the pain of death would hourly die
	Rather than die at once!--taught me to shift
	Into a madman's rags; to assume a semblance
	That very dogs disdain'd: and in this habit
	Met I my father with his bleeding rings,
	Their precious stones new lost: became his guide,
	Led him, begg'd for him, saved him from despair;
	Never,--O fault!--reveal'd myself unto him,
	Until some half-hour past, when I was arm'd:
	Not sure, though hoping, of this good success,
	I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last
	Told him my pilgrimage: but his flaw'd heart,
	Alack, too weak the conflict to support!
	'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief,
	Burst smilingly.

EDMUND	This speech of yours hath moved me,
	And shall perchance do good: but speak you on;
	You look as you had something more to say.

ALBANY	If there be more, more woeful, hold it in;
	For I am almost ready to dissolve,
	Hearing of this.

EDGAR	                  This would have seem'd a period
	To such as love not sorrow; but another,
	To amplify too much, would make much more,
	And top extremity.
	Whilst I was big in clamour came there in a man,
	Who, having seen me in my worst estate,
	Shunn'd my abhorr'd society; but then, finding
	Who 'twas that so endured, with his strong arms
	He fastened on my neck, and bellow'd out
	As he'ld burst heaven; threw him on my father;
	Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him
	That ever ear received: which in recounting
	His grief grew puissant and the strings of life
	Began to crack: twice then the trumpets sounded,
	And there I left him tranced.

ALBANY	But who was this?

EDGAR	Kent, sir, the banish'd Kent; who in disguise
	Follow'd his enemy king, and did him service
	Improper for a slave.

	[Enter a Gentleman, with a bloody knife]

Gentleman	Help, help, O, help!

EDGAR	What kind of help?

ALBANY	Speak, man.

EDGAR	What means that bloody knife?

Gentleman	'Tis hot, it smokes;
	It came even from the heart of--O, she's dead!

ALBANY	Who dead? speak, man.

Gentleman	Your lady, sir, your lady: and her sister
	By her is poisoned; she hath confess'd it.

EDMUND	I was contracted to them both: all three
	Now marry in an instant.

EDGAR	Here comes Kent.

ALBANY	Produce their bodies, be they alive or dead:
	This judgment of the heavens, that makes us tremble,
	Touches us not with pity.

	[Exit Gentleman]

	[Enter KENT]

		    O, is this he?
	The time will not allow the compliment
	Which very manners urges.

KENT	I am come
	To bid my king and master aye good night:
	Is he not here?

ALBANY	                  Great thing of us forgot!
	Speak, Edmund, where's the king? and where's Cordelia?
	See'st thou this object, Kent?

	[The bodies of GONERIL and REGAN are brought in]

KENT	Alack, why thus?

EDMUND	                  Yet Edmund was beloved:
	The one the other poison'd for my sake,
	And after slew herself.

ALBANY	Even so. Cover their faces.

EDMUND	I pant for life: some good I mean to do,
	Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send,
	Be brief in it, to the castle; for my writ
	Is on the life of Lear and on Cordelia:
	Nay, send in time.

ALBANY	                  Run, run, O, run!

EDGAR	To who, my lord? Who hath the office? send
	Thy token of reprieve.

EDMUND	Well thought on: take my sword,
	Give it the captain.

ALBANY	Haste thee, for thy life.

	[Exit EDGAR]

EDMUND	He hath commission from thy wife and me
	To hang Cordelia in the prison, and
	To lay the blame upon her own despair,
	That she fordid herself.

ALBANY	The gods defend her! Bear him hence awhile.

	[EDMUND is borne off]

	[Re-enter KING LEAR, with CORDELIA dead in his arms;
	EDGAR, Captain, and others following]

KING LEAR	Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones:
	Had I your tongues and eyes, I'ld use them so
	That heaven's vault should crack. She's gone for ever!
	I know when one is dead, and when one lives;
	She's dead as earth. Lend me a looking-glass;
	If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,
	Why, then she lives.

KENT	Is this the promised end

EDGAR	Or image of that horror?

ALBANY	Fall, and cease!

KING LEAR	This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so,
	It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows
	That ever I have felt.

KENT	[Kneeling]  O my good master!

KING LEAR	Prithee, away.

EDGAR	'Tis noble Kent, your friend.

KING LEAR	A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all!
	I might have saved her; now she's gone for ever!
	Cordelia, Cordelia! stay a little. Ha!
	What is't thou say'st? Her voice was ever soft,
	Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman.
	I kill'd the slave that was a-hanging thee.

Captain	'Tis true, my lords, he did.

KING LEAR	Did I not, fellow?
	I have seen the day, with my good biting falchion
	I would have made them skip: I am old now,
	And these same crosses spoil me. Who are you?
	Mine eyes are not o' the best: I'll tell you straight.

KENT	If fortune brag of two she loved and hated,
	One of them we behold.

KING LEAR	This is a dull sight. Are you not Kent?

KENT	The same,
	Your servant Kent: Where is your servant Caius?

KING LEAR	He's a good fellow, I can tell you that;
	He'll strike, and quickly too: he's dead and rotten.

KENT	No, my good lord; I am the very man,--

KING LEAR	I'll see that straight.

KENT	That, from your first of difference and decay,
	Have follow'd your sad steps.

KING LEAR	You are welcome hither.

KENT	Nor no man else: all's cheerless, dark, and deadly.
	Your eldest daughters have fordone them selves,
	And desperately are dead.

KING LEAR	Ay, so I think.

ALBANY	He knows not what he says: and vain it is
	That we present us to him.

EDGAR	Very bootless.

	[Enter a Captain]

Captain	Edmund is dead, my lord.

ALBANY	That's but a trifle here.
	You lords and noble friends, know our intent.
	What comfort to this great decay may come
	Shall be applied: for us we will resign,
	During the life of this old majesty,
	To him our absolute power:

	[To EDGAR and KENT]

		     you, to your rights:
	With boot, and such addition as your honours
	Have more than merited. All friends shall taste
	The wages of their virtue, and all foes
	The cup of their deservings. O, see, see!

KING LEAR	And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life!
	Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,
	And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,
	Never, never, never, never, never!
	Pray you, undo this button: thank you, sir.
	Do you see this? Look on her, look, her lips,
	Look there, look there!

	[Dies]

EDGAR	He faints! My lord, my lord!

KENT	Break, heart; I prithee, break!

EDGAR	Look up, my lord.

KENT	Vex not his ghost: O, let him pass! he hates him much
	That would upon the rack of this tough world
	Stretch him out longer.

EDGAR	He is gone, indeed.

KENT	The wonder is, he hath endured so long:
	He but usurp'd his life.

ALBANY	Bear them from hence. Our present business
	Is general woe.

	[To KENT and EDGAR]

	Friends of my soul, you twain
	Rule in this realm, and the gored state sustain.

KENT	I have a journey, sir, shortly to go;
	My master calls me, I must not say no.

ALBANY	The weight of this sad time we must obey;
	Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.
	The oldest hath borne most: we that are young
	Shall never see so much, nor live so long.

	[Exeunt, with a dead march]




	MACBETH


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


DUNCAN	king of Scotland.


MALCOLM	|
	|  his sons.
DONALBAIN	|


MACBETH	|
	|  generals of the king's army.
BANQUO	|


MACDUFF	|
	|
LENNOX	|
	|
ROSS	|
	|  noblemen of Scotland.
MENTEITH	|
	|
ANGUS	|
	|
CAITHNESS	|


FLEANCE	son to Banquo.

SIWARD	Earl of Northumberland, general of the English forces.

YOUNG SIWARD	his son.

SEYTON	an officer attending on Macbeth.

	Boy, son to Macduff. (Son:)

	An English Doctor. (Doctor:)

	A Scotch Doctor. (Doctor:)

	A Soldier.
	A Porter.

	An Old Man

LADY MACBETH:

LADY MACDUFF:

	Gentlewoman attending on Lady Macbeth. (Gentlewoman:)

HECATE:

	Three Witches.
	(First Witch:)
	(Second Witch:)
	(Third Witch:)

	Apparitions.
	(First Apparition:)
	(Second Apparition:)
	(Third Apparition:)

	Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Murderers,
	Attendants, and Messengers. (Lord:)
	(Sergeant:)
	(Servant:)
	(First Murderer:)
	(Second Murderer:)
	(Third Murderer:)
	(Messenger:)

SCENE	Scotland: England.




	MACBETH


ACT I



SCENE I	A desert place.


	[Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches]

First Witch	When shall we three meet again
	In thunder, lightning, or in rain?

Second Witch	When the hurlyburly's done,
	When the battle's lost and won.

Third Witch	That will be ere the set of sun.

First Witch	Where the place?

Second Witch	                  Upon the heath.

Third Witch	There to meet with Macbeth.

First Witch	I come, Graymalkin!

Second Witch	Paddock calls.

Third Witch	Anon.

ALL	Fair is foul, and foul is fair:
	Hover through the fog and filthy air.

	[Exeunt]




	MACBETH


ACT I



SCENE II	A camp near Forres.


	[Alarum within. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN,
	LENNOX, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Sergeant]

DUNCAN	What bloody man is that? He can report,
	As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt
	The newest state.

MALCOLM	                  This is the sergeant
	Who like a good and hardy soldier fought
	'Gainst my captivity. Hail, brave friend!
	Say to the king the knowledge of the broil
	As thou didst leave it.

Sergeant	Doubtful it stood;
	As two spent swimmers, that do cling together
	And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald--
	Worthy to be a rebel, for to that
	The multiplying villanies of nature
	Do swarm upon him--from the western isles
	Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied;
	And fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling,
	Show'd like a rebel's whore: but all's too weak:
	For brave Macbeth--well he deserves that name--
	Disdaining fortune, with his brandish'd steel,
	Which smoked with bloody execution,
	Like valour's minion carved out his passage
	Till he faced the slave;
	Which ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him,
	Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps,
	And fix'd his head upon our battlements.

DUNCAN	O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman!

Sergeant	As whence the sun 'gins his reflection
	Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break,
	So from that spring whence comfort seem'd to come
	Discomfort swells. Mark, king of Scotland, mark:
	No sooner justice had with valour arm'd
	Compell'd these skipping kerns to trust their heels,
	But the Norweyan lord surveying vantage,
	With furbish'd arms and new supplies of men
	Began a fresh assault.

DUNCAN	Dismay'd not this
	Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo?

Sergeant	Yes;
	As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion.
	If I say sooth, I must report they were
	As cannons overcharged with double cracks, so they
	Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe:
	Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,
	Or memorise another Golgotha,
	I cannot tell.
	But I am faint, my gashes cry for help.

DUNCAN	So well thy words become thee as thy wounds;
	They smack of honour both. Go get him surgeons.

	[Exit Sergeant, attended]

	Who comes here?

	[Enter ROSS]

MALCOLM	                  The worthy thane of Ross.

LENNOX	What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look
	That seems to speak things strange.

ROSS	God save the king!

DUNCAN	Whence camest thou, worthy thane?

ROSS	From Fife, great king;
	Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky
	And fan our people cold. Norway himself,
	With terrible numbers,
	Assisted by that most disloyal traitor
	The thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict;
	Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof,
	Confronted him with self-comparisons,
	Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm.
	Curbing his lavish spirit: and, to conclude,
	The victory fell on us.

DUNCAN	Great happiness!

ROSS	That now
	Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition:
	Nor would we deign him burial of his men
	Till he disbursed at Saint Colme's inch
	Ten thousand dollars to our general use.

DUNCAN	No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive
	Our bosom interest: go pronounce his present death,
	And with his former title greet Macbeth.

ROSS	I'll see it done.

DUNCAN	What he hath lost noble Macbeth hath won.

	[Exeunt]




	MACBETH


ACT I



SCENE III	A heath near Forres.


	[Thunder. Enter the three Witches]

First Witch	Where hast thou been, sister?

Second Witch	Killing swine.

Third Witch	Sister, where thou?

First Witch	A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap,
	And munch'd, and munch'd, and munch'd:--
	'Give me,' quoth I:
	'Aroint thee, witch!' the rump-fed ronyon cries.
	Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o' the Tiger:
	But in a sieve I'll thither sail,
	And, like a rat without a tail,
	I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.

Second Witch	I'll give thee a wind.

First Witch	Thou'rt kind.

Third Witch	And I another.

First Witch	I myself have all the other,
	And the very ports they blow,
	All the quarters that they know
	I' the shipman's card.
	I will drain him dry as hay:
	Sleep shall neither night nor day
	Hang upon his pent-house lid;
	He shall live a man forbid:
	Weary se'nnights nine times nine
	Shall he dwindle, peak and pine:
	Though his bark cannot be lost,
	Yet it shall be tempest-tost.
	Look what I have.

Second Witch	Show me, show me.

First Witch	Here I have a pilot's thumb,
	Wreck'd as homeward he did come.

	[Drum within]

Third Witch	A drum, a drum!
	Macbeth doth come.

ALL	The weird sisters, hand in hand,
	Posters of the sea and land,
	Thus do go about, about:
	Thrice to thine and thrice to mine
	And thrice again, to make up nine.
	Peace! the charm's wound up.

	[Enter MACBETH and BANQUO]

MACBETH	So foul and fair a day I have not seen.

BANQUO	How far is't call'd to Forres? What are these
	So wither'd and so wild in their attire,
	That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth,
	And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aught
	That man may question? You seem to understand me,
	By each at once her chappy finger laying
	Upon her skinny lips: you should be women,
	And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
	That you are so.

MACBETH	                  Speak, if you can: what are you?

First Witch	All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Glamis!

Second Witch	All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, thane of Cawdor!

Third Witch	All hail, Macbeth, thou shalt be king hereafter!

BANQUO	Good sir, why do you start; and seem to fear
	Things that do sound so fair? I' the name of truth,
	Are ye fantastical, or that indeed
	Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner
	You greet with present grace and great prediction
	Of noble having and of royal hope,
	That he seems rapt withal: to me you speak not.
	If you can look into the seeds of time,
	And say which grain will grow and which will not,
	Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear
	Your favours nor your hate.

First Witch	Hail!

Second Witch	Hail!

Third Witch	Hail!

First Witch	Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.

Second Witch	Not so happy, yet much happier.

Third Witch	Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none:
	So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!

First Witch	Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!

MACBETH	Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more:
	By Sinel's death I know I am thane of Glamis;
	But how of Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor lives,
	A prosperous gentleman; and to be king
	Stands not within the prospect of belief,
	No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence
	You owe this strange intelligence? or why
	Upon this blasted heath you stop our way
	With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you.

	[Witches vanish]

BANQUO	The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,
	And these are of them. Whither are they vanish'd?

MACBETH	Into the air; and what seem'd corporal melted
	As breath into the wind. Would they had stay'd!

BANQUO	Were such things here as we do speak about?
	Or have we eaten on the insane root
	That takes the reason prisoner?

MACBETH	Your children shall be kings.

BANQUO	You shall be king.

MACBETH	And thane of Cawdor too: went it not so?

BANQUO	To the selfsame tune and words. Who's here?

	[Enter ROSS and ANGUS]

ROSS	The king hath happily received, Macbeth,
	The news of thy success; and when he reads
	Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight,
	His wonders and his praises do contend
	Which should be thine or his: silenced with that,
	In viewing o'er the rest o' the selfsame day,
	He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
	Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,
	Strange images of death. As thick as hail
	Came post with post; and every one did bear
	Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence,
	And pour'd them down before him.

ANGUS	We are sent
	To give thee from our royal master thanks;
	Only to herald thee into his sight,
	Not pay thee.

ROSS	And, for an earnest of a greater honour,
	He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor:
	In which addition, hail, most worthy thane!
	For it is thine.

BANQUO	                  What, can the devil speak true?

MACBETH	The thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress me
	In borrow'd robes?

ANGUS	                  Who was the thane lives yet;
	But under heavy judgment bears that life
	Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combined
	With those of Norway, or did line the rebel
	With hidden help and vantage, or that with both
	He labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not;
	But treasons capital, confess'd and proved,
	Have overthrown him.

MACBETH	[Aside]  Glamis, and thane of Cawdor!
	The greatest is behind.

	[To ROSS and ANGUS]

		  Thanks for your pains.

	[To BANQUO]

	Do you not hope your children shall be kings,
	When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to me
	Promised no less to them?

BANQUO	That trusted home
	Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,
	Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange:
	And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
	The instruments of darkness tell us truths,
	Win us with honest trifles, to betray's
	In deepest consequence.
	Cousins, a word, I pray you.

MACBETH	[Aside]	Two truths are told,
	As happy prologues to the swelling act
	Of the imperial theme.--I thank you, gentlemen.

	[Aside]  This supernatural soliciting
	Cannot be ill, cannot be good: if ill,
	Why hath it given me earnest of success,
	Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor:
	If good, why do I yield to that suggestion
	Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair
	And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
	Against the use of nature? Present fears
	Are less than horrible imaginings:
	My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
	Shakes so my single state of man that function
	Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is
	But what is not.

BANQUO	                  Look, how our partner's rapt.

MACBETH	[Aside]  If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me,
	Without my stir.

BANQUO	                  New horrors come upon him,
	Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould
	But with the aid of use.

MACBETH	[Aside]                Come what come may,
	Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

BANQUO	Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.

MACBETH	Give me your favour: my dull brain was wrought
	With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains
	Are register'd where every day I turn
	The leaf to read them. Let us toward the king.
	Think upon what hath chanced, and, at more time,
	The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak
	Our free hearts each to other.

BANQUO	Very gladly.

MACBETH	Till then, enough. Come, friends.

	[Exeunt]




	MACBETH


ACT I



SCENE IV	Forres. The palace.


	[Flourish. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENNOX,
	and Attendants]

DUNCAN	Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not
	Those in commission yet return'd?

MALCOLM	My liege,
	They are not yet come back. But I have spoke
	With one that saw him die: who did report
	That very frankly he confess'd his treasons,
	Implored your highness' pardon and set forth
	A deep repentance: nothing in his life
	Became him like the leaving it; he died
	As one that had been studied in his death
	To throw away the dearest thing he owed,
	As 'twere a careless trifle.

DUNCAN	There's no art
	To find the mind's construction in the face:
	He was a gentleman on whom I built
	An absolute trust.

	[Enter MACBETH, BANQUO, ROSS, and ANGUS]

	O worthiest cousin!
	The sin of my ingratitude even now
	Was heavy on me: thou art so far before
	That swiftest wing of recompense is slow
	To overtake thee. Would thou hadst less deserved,
	That the proportion both of thanks and payment
	Might have been mine! only I have left to say,
	More is thy due than more than all can pay.

MACBETH	The service and the loyalty I owe,
	In doing it, pays itself. Your highness' part
	Is to receive our duties; and our duties
	Are to your throne and state children and servants,
	Which do but what they should, by doing every thing
	Safe toward your love and honour.

DUNCAN	Welcome hither:
	I have begun to plant thee, and will labour
	To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo,
	That hast no less deserved, nor must be known
	No less to have done so, let me enfold thee
	And hold thee to my heart.

BANQUO	There if I grow,
	The harvest is your own.

DUNCAN	My plenteous joys,
	Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves
	In drops of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, thanes,
	And you whose places are the nearest, know
	We will establish our estate upon
	Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter
	The Prince of Cumberland; which honour must
	Not unaccompanied invest him only,
	But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine
	On all deservers. From hence to Inverness,
	And bind us further to you.

MACBETH	The rest is labour, which is not used for you:
	I'll be myself the harbinger and make joyful
	The hearing of my wife with your approach;
	So humbly take my leave.

DUNCAN	My worthy Cawdor!

MACBETH	[Aside]  The Prince of Cumberland! that is a step
	On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap,
	For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires;
	Let not light see my black and deep desires:
	The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be,
	Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.

	[Exit]

DUNCAN	True, worthy Banquo; he is full so valiant,
	And in his commendations I am fed;
	It is a banquet to me. Let's after him,
	Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome:
	It is a peerless kinsman.

	[Flourish. Exeunt]




	MACBETH


ACT I



SCENE V	Inverness. Macbeth's castle.


	[Enter LADY MACBETH, reading a letter]

LADY MACBETH	'They met me in the day of success: and I have
	learned by the perfectest report, they have more in
	them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire
	to question them further, they made themselves air,
	into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt in
	the wonder of it, came missives from the king, who
	all-hailed me 'Thane of Cawdor;' by which title,
	before, these weird sisters saluted me, and referred
	me to the coming on of time, with 'Hail, king that
	shalt be!' This have I thought good to deliver
	thee, my dearest partner of greatness, that thou
	mightst not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being
	ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it
	to thy heart, and farewell.'
	Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be
	What thou art promised: yet do I fear thy nature;
	It is too full o' the milk of human kindness
	To catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great;
	Art not without ambition, but without
	The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly,
	That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false,
	And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou'ldst have, great Glamis,
	That which cries 'Thus thou must do, if thou have it;
	And that which rather thou dost fear to do
	Than wishest should be undone.' Hie thee hither,
	That I may pour my spirits in thine ear;
	And chastise with the valour of my tongue
	All that impedes thee from the golden round,
	Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem
	To have thee crown'd withal.

	[Enter a Messenger]

		       What is your tidings?

Messenger	The king comes here to-night.

LADY MACBETH	Thou'rt mad to say it:
	Is not thy master with him? who, were't so,
	Would have inform'd for preparation.

Messenger	So please you, it is true: our thane is coming:
	One of my fellows had the speed of him,
	Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more
	Than would make up his message.

LADY MACBETH	Give him tending;
	He brings great news.

	[Exit Messenger]

		The raven himself is hoarse
	That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
	Under my battlements. Come, you spirits
	That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,
	And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full
	Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood;
	Stop up the access and passage to remorse,
	That no compunctious visitings of nature
	Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
	The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts,
	And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,
	Wherever in your sightless substances
	You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night,
	And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,
	That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,
	Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,
	To cry 'Hold, hold!'

	[Enter MACBETH]

		Great Glamis! worthy Cawdor!
	Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter!
	Thy letters have transported me beyond
	This ignorant present, and I feel now
	The future in the instant.

MACBETH	My dearest love,
	Duncan comes here to-night.

LADY MACBETH	And when goes hence?

MACBETH	To-morrow, as he purposes.

LADY MACBETH	O, never
	Shall sun that morrow see!
	Your face, my thane, is as a book where men
	May read strange matters. To beguile the time,
	Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,
	Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower,
	But be the serpent under't. He that's coming
	Must be provided for: and you shall put
	This night's great business into my dispatch;
	Which shall to all our nights and days to come
	Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.

MACBETH	We will speak further.

LADY MACBETH	Only look up clear;
	To alter favour ever is to fear:
	Leave all the rest to me.

	[Exeunt]




	MACBETH


ACT I



SCENE VI	Before Macbeth's castle.


	[Hautboys and torches. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM,
	DONALBAIN, BANQUO, LENNOX, MACDUFF, ROSS, ANGUS,
	and Attendants]

DUNCAN	This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air
	Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself
	Unto our gentle senses.

BANQUO	This guest of summer,
	The temple-haunting martlet, does approve,
	By his loved mansionry, that the heaven's breath
	Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze,
	Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird
	Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle:
	Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed,
	The air is delicate.

	[Enter LADY MACBETH]

DUNCAN	See, see, our honour'd hostess!
	The love that follows us sometime is our trouble,
	Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you
	How you shall bid God 'ild us for your pains,
	And thank us for your trouble.

LADY MACBETH	All our service
	In every point twice done and then done double
	Were poor and single business to contend
	Against those honours deep and broad wherewith
	Your majesty loads our house: for those of old,
	And the late dignities heap'd up to them,
	We rest your hermits.

DUNCAN	Where's the thane of Cawdor?
	We coursed him at the heels, and had a purpose
	To be his purveyor: but he rides well;
	And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp him
	To his home before us. Fair and noble hostess,
	We are your guest to-night.

LADY MACBETH	Your servants ever
	Have theirs, themselves and what is theirs, in compt,
	To make their audit at your highness' pleasure,
	Still to return your own.

DUNCAN	Give me your hand;
	Conduct me to mine host: we love him highly,
	And shall continue our graces towards him.
	By your leave, hostess.

	[Exeunt]




	MACBETH


ACT I



SCENE VII	Macbeth's castle.


	[Hautboys and torches. Enter a Sewer, and divers
	Servants with dishes and service, and pass over the
	stage. Then enter MACBETH]

MACBETH	If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well
	It were done quickly: if the assassination
	Could trammel up the consequence, and catch
	With his surcease success; that but this blow
	Might be the be-all and the end-all here,
	But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,
	We'ld jump the life to come. But in these cases
	We still have judgment here; that we but teach
	Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return
	To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice
	Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice
	To our own lips. He's here in double trust;
	First, as I am his kinsman and his subject,
	Strong both against the deed; then, as his host,
	Who should against his murderer shut the door,
	Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan
	Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been
	So clear in his great office, that his virtues
	Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against
	The deep damnation of his taking-off;
	And pity, like a naked new-born babe,
	Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed
	Upon the sightless couriers of the air,
	Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,
	That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur
	To prick the sides of my intent, but only
	Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself
	And falls on the other.

	[Enter LADY MACBETH]

		  How now! what news?

LADY MACBETH	He has almost supp'd: why have you left the chamber?

MACBETH	Hath he ask'd for me?

LADY MACBETH	Know you not he has?

MACBETH	We will proceed no further in this business:
	He hath honour'd me of late; and I have bought
	Golden opinions from all sorts of people,
	Which would be worn now in their newest gloss,
	Not cast aside so soon.

LADY MACBETH	Was the hope drunk
	Wherein you dress'd yourself? hath it slept since?
	And wakes it now, to look so green and pale
	At what it did so freely? From this time
	Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard
	To be the same in thine own act and valour
	As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that
	Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life,
	And live a coward in thine own esteem,
	Letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would,'
	Like the poor cat i' the adage?

MACBETH	Prithee, peace:
	I dare do all that may become a man;
	Who dares do more is none.
LADY MACBETH	What beast was't, then,
	That made you break this enterprise to me?
	When you durst do it, then you were a man;
	And, to be more than what you were, you would
	Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place
	Did then adhere, and yet you would make both:
	They have made themselves, and that their fitness now
	Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know
	How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me:
	I would, while it was smiling in my face,
	Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums,
	And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you
	Have done to this.

MACBETH	                  If we should fail?

LADY MACBETH	We fail!
	But screw your courage to the sticking-place,
	And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep--
	Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey
	Soundly invite him--his two chamberlains
	Will I with wine and wassail so convince
	That memory, the warder of the brain,
	Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason
	A limbeck only: when in swinish sleep
	Their drenched natures lie as in a death,
	What cannot you and I perform upon
	The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon
	His spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt
	Of our great quell?

MACBETH	Bring forth men-children only;
	For thy undaunted mettle should compose
	Nothing but males. Will it not be received,
	When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two
	Of his own chamber and used their very daggers,
	That they have done't?

LADY MACBETH	Who dares receive it other,
	As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar
	Upon his death?

MACBETH	                  I am settled, and bend up
	Each corporal agent to this terrible feat.
	Away, and mock the time with fairest show:
	False face must hide what the false heart doth know.

	[Exeunt]




	MACBETH


ACT II



SCENE I	Court of Macbeth's castle.


	[Enter BANQUO, and FLEANCE bearing a torch before him]

BANQUO	How goes the night, boy?

FLEANCE	The moon is down; I have not heard the clock.

BANQUO	And she goes down at twelve.

FLEANCE	I take't, 'tis later, sir.

BANQUO	Hold, take my sword. There's husbandry in heaven;
	Their candles are all out. Take thee that too.
	A heavy summons lies like lead upon me,
	And yet I would not sleep: merciful powers,
	Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature
	Gives way to in repose!

	[Enter MACBETH, and a Servant with a torch]

		  Give me my sword.
	Who's there?

MACBETH	A friend.

BANQUO	What, sir, not yet at rest? The king's a-bed:
	He hath been in unusual pleasure, and
	Sent forth great largess to your offices.
	This diamond he greets your wife withal,
	By the name of most kind hostess; and shut up
	In measureless content.

MACBETH	Being unprepared,
	Our will became the servant to defect;
	Which else should free have wrought.

BANQUO	All's well.
	I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters:
	To you they have show'd some truth.

MACBETH	I think not of them:
	Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve,
	We would spend it in some words upon that business,
	If you would grant the time.

BANQUO	At your kind'st leisure.

MACBETH	If you shall cleave to my consent, when 'tis,
	It shall make honour for you.

BANQUO	So I lose none
	In seeking to augment it, but still keep
	My bosom franchised and allegiance clear,
	I shall be counsell'd.

MACBETH	Good repose the while!

BANQUO	Thanks, sir: the like to you!

	[Exeunt BANQUO and FLEANCE]

MACBETH	Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready,
	She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed.

	[Exit Servant]

	Is this a dagger which I see before me,
	The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
	I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
	Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
	To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
	A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
	Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
	I see thee yet, in form as palpable
	As this which now I draw.
	Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going;
	And such an instrument I was to use.
	Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,
	Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still,
	And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,
	Which was not so before. There's no such thing:
	It is the bloody business which informs
	Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one halfworld
	Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
	The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates
	Pale Hecate's offerings, and wither'd murder,
	Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf,
	Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace.
	With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design
	Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth,
	Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
	Thy very stones prate of my whereabout,
	And take the present horror from the time,
	Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives:
	Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.

	[A bell rings]

	I go, and it is done; the bell invites me.
	Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell
	That summons thee to heaven or to hell.

	[Exit]




	MACBETH


ACT II



SCENE II	The same.


	[Enter LADY MACBETH]

LADY MACBETH	That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold;
	What hath quench'd them hath given me fire.
	Hark! Peace!
	It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman,
	Which gives the stern'st good-night. He is about it:
	The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms
	Do mock their charge with snores: I have drugg'd
	their possets,
	That death and nature do contend about them,
	Whether they live or die.

MACBETH	[Within]  Who's there? what, ho!

LADY MACBETH	Alack, I am afraid they have awaked,
	And 'tis not done. The attempt and not the deed
	Confounds us. Hark! I laid their daggers ready;
	He could not miss 'em. Had he not resembled
	My father as he slept, I had done't.

	[Enter MACBETH]

		                  My husband!

MACBETH	I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise?

LADY MACBETH	I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry.
	Did not you speak?

MACBETH	                  When?

LADY MACBETH	Now.

MACBETH	As I descended?

LADY MACBETH	Ay.

MACBETH	Hark!
	Who lies i' the second chamber?

LADY MACBETH	Donalbain.

MACBETH	This is a sorry sight.

	[Looking on his hands]

LADY MACBETH	A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.

MACBETH	There's one did laugh in's sleep, and one cried
	'Murder!'
	That they did wake each other: I stood and heard them:
	But they did say their prayers, and address'd them
	Again to sleep.

LADY MACBETH	                  There are two lodged together.

MACBETH	One cried 'God bless us!' and 'Amen' the other;
	As they had seen me with these hangman's hands.
	Listening their fear, I could not say 'Amen,'
	When they did say 'God bless us!'

LADY MACBETH	Consider it not so deeply.

MACBETH	But wherefore could not I pronounce 'Amen'?
	I had most need of blessing, and 'Amen'
	Stuck in my throat.

LADY MACBETH	These deeds must not be thought
	After these ways; so, it will make us mad.

MACBETH	Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more!
	Macbeth does murder sleep', the innocent sleep,
	Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care,
	The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
	Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
	Chief nourisher in life's feast,--

LADY MACBETH	What do you mean?

MACBETH	Still it cried 'Sleep no more!' to all the house:
	'Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor
	Shall sleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no more.'

LADY MACBETH	Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane,
	You do unbend your noble strength, to think
	So brainsickly of things. Go get some water,
	And wash this filthy witness from your hand.
	Why did you bring these daggers from the place?
	They must lie there: go carry them; and smear
	The sleepy grooms with blood.

MACBETH	I'll go no more:
	I am afraid to think what I have done;
	Look on't again I dare not.

LADY MACBETH	Infirm of purpose!
	Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead
	Are but as pictures: 'tis the eye of childhood
	That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed,
	I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal;
	For it must seem their guilt.

	[Exit. Knocking within]

MACBETH	Whence is that knocking?
	How is't with me, when every noise appals me?
	What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes.
	Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
	Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather
	The multitudinous seas in incarnadine,
	Making the green one red.

	[Re-enter LADY MACBETH]

LADY MACBETH	My hands are of your colour; but I shame
	To wear a heart so white.

	[Knocking within]

		    I hear a knocking
	At the south entry: retire we to our chamber;
	A little water clears us of this deed:
	How easy is it, then! Your constancy
	Hath left you unattended.

	[Knocking within]

		   Hark! more knocking.
	Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us,
	And show us to be watchers. Be not lost
	So poorly in your thoughts.

MACBETH	To know my deed, 'twere best not know myself.

	[Knocking within]

	Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst!

	[Exeunt]



	MACBETH


ACT II



SCENE III	The same.


	[Knocking within. Enter a Porter]

Porter	Here's a knocking indeed! If a
	man were porter of hell-gate, he should have
	old turning the key.

	[Knocking within]
		Knock,
	knock, knock! Who's there, i' the name of
	Beelzebub? Here's a farmer, that hanged
	himself on the expectation of plenty: come in
	time; have napkins enow about you; here
	you'll sweat for't.

	[Knocking within]
	Knock,
	knock! Who's there, in the other devil's
	name? Faith, here's an equivocator, that could
	swear in both the scales against either scale;
	who committed treason enough for God's sake,
	yet could not equivocate to heaven: O, come
	in, equivocator.

	[Knocking within]
	Knock,
	knock, knock! Who's there? Faith, here's an
	English tailor come hither, for stealing out of
	a French hose: come in, tailor; here you may
	roast your goose.

	[Knocking within]
	Knock,
	knock; never at quiet! What are you? But
	this place is too cold for hell. I'll devil-porter
	it no further: I had thought to have let in
	some of all professions that go the primrose
	way to the everlasting bonfire.

	[Knocking within]

	Anon, anon! I pray you, remember the porter.

	[Opens the gate]

	[Enter MACDUFF and LENNOX]

MACDUFF	Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed,
	That you do lie so late?

Porter	'Faith sir, we were carousing till the
	second cock: and drink, sir, is a great
	provoker of three things.

MACDUFF	What three things does drink especially provoke?

Porter	Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and
	urine. Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes;
	it provokes the desire, but it takes
	away the performance: therefore, much drink
	may be said to be an equivocator with lechery:
	it makes him, and it mars him; it sets
	him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him,
	and disheartens him; makes him stand to, and
	not stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him
	in a sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him.

MACDUFF	I believe drink gave thee the lie last night.

Porter	That it did, sir, i' the very throat on
	me: but I requited him for his lie; and, I
	think, being too strong for him, though he took
	up my legs sometime, yet I made a shift to cast
	him.

MACDUFF	Is thy master stirring?

	[Enter MACBETH]

	Our knocking has awaked him; here he comes.

LENNOX	Good morrow, noble sir.

MACBETH	Good morrow, both.

MACDUFF	Is the king stirring, worthy thane?

MACBETH	Not yet.

MACDUFF	He did command me to call timely on him:
	I have almost slipp'd the hour.

MACBETH	I'll bring you to him.

MACDUFF	I know this is a joyful trouble to you;
	But yet 'tis one.

MACBETH	The labour we delight in physics pain.
	This is the door.

MACDUFF	                  I'll make so bold to call,
	For 'tis my limited service.

	[Exit]

LENNOX	Goes the king hence to-day?

MACBETH	He does: he did appoint so.

LENNOX	The night has been unruly: where we lay,
	Our chimneys were blown down; and, as they say,
	Lamentings heard i' the air; strange screams of death,
	And prophesying with accents terrible
	Of dire combustion and confused events
	New hatch'd to the woeful time: the obscure bird
	Clamour'd the livelong night: some say, the earth
	Was feverous and did shake.

MACBETH	'Twas a rough night.

LENNOX	My young remembrance cannot parallel
	A fellow to it.

	[Re-enter MACDUFF]

MACDUFF	O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart
	Cannot conceive nor name thee!


MACBETH	|
	|	What's the matter.
LENNOX	|


MACDUFF	Confusion now hath made his masterpiece!
	Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope
	The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence
	The life o' the building!

MACBETH	What is 't you say? the life?

LENNOX	Mean you his majesty?

MACDUFF	Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight
	With a new Gorgon: do not bid me speak;
	See, and then speak yourselves.

	[Exeunt MACBETH and LENNOX]

		          Awake, awake!
	Ring the alarum-bell. Murder and treason!
	Banquo and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake!
	Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit,
	And look on death itself! up, up, and see
	The great doom's image! Malcolm! Banquo!
	As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites,
	To countenance this horror! Ring the bell.

	[Bell rings]

	[Enter LADY MACBETH]

LADY MACBETH	What's the business,
	That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley
	The sleepers of the house? speak, speak!

MACDUFF	O gentle lady,
	'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak:
	The repetition, in a woman's ear,
	Would murder as it fell.

	[Enter BANQUO]

		   O Banquo, Banquo,
	Our royal master 's murder'd!

LADY MACBETH	Woe, alas!
	What, in our house?

BANQUO	Too cruel any where.
	Dear Duff, I prithee, contradict thyself,
	And say it is not so.

	[Re-enter MACBETH and LENNOX, with ROSS]

MACBETH	Had I but died an hour before this chance,
	I had lived a blessed time; for, from this instant,
	There 's nothing serious in mortality:
	All is but toys: renown and grace is dead;
	The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees
	Is left this vault to brag of.

	[Enter MALCOLM and DONALBAIN]

DONALBAIN	What is amiss?

MACBETH	                  You are, and do not know't:
	The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood
	Is stopp'd; the very source of it is stopp'd.

MACDUFF	Your royal father 's murder'd.

MALCOLM	O, by whom?

LENNOX	Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done 't:
	Their hands and faces were an badged with blood;
	So were their daggers, which unwiped we found
	Upon their pillows:
	They stared, and were distracted; no man's life
	Was to be trusted with them.

MACBETH	O, yet I do repent me of my fury,
	That I did kill them.

MACDUFF	Wherefore did you so?

MACBETH	Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious,
	Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man:
	The expedition my violent love
	Outrun the pauser, reason. Here lay Duncan,
	His silver skin laced with his golden blood;
	And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature
	For ruin's wasteful entrance: there, the murderers,
	Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their daggers
	Unmannerly breech'd with gore: who could refrain,
	That had a heart to love, and in that heart
	Courage to make 's love known?

LADY MACBETH	Help me hence, ho!

MACDUFF	Look to the lady.

MALCOLM	[Aside to DONALBAIN]  Why do we hold our tongues,
	That most may claim this argument for ours?

DONALBAIN	[Aside to MALCOLM]  What should be spoken here,
	where our fate,
	Hid in an auger-hole, may rush, and seize us?
	Let 's away;
	Our tears are not yet brew'd.

MALCOLM	[Aside to DONALBAIN]        Nor our strong sorrow
	Upon the foot of motion.

BANQUO	Look to the lady:

	[LADY MACBETH is carried out]

	And when we have our naked frailties hid,
	That suffer in exposure, let us meet,
	And question this most bloody piece of work,
	To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us:
	In the great hand of God I stand; and thence
	Against the undivulged pretence I fight
	Of treasonous malice.

MACDUFF	And so do I.

ALL	So all.

MACBETH	Let's briefly put on manly readiness,
	And meet i' the hall together.

ALL	Well contented.

	[Exeunt all but Malcolm and Donalbain.

MALCOLM	What will you do? Let's not consort with them:
	To show an unfelt sorrow is an office
	Which the false man does easy. I'll to England.

DONALBAIN	To Ireland, I; our separated fortune
	Shall keep us both the safer: where we are,
	There's daggers in men's smiles: the near in blood,
	The nearer bloody.

MALCOLM	                  This murderous shaft that's shot
	Hath not yet lighted, and our safest way
	Is to avoid the aim. Therefore, to horse;
	And let us not be dainty of leave-taking,
	But shift away: there's warrant in that theft
	Which steals itself, when there's no mercy left.

	[Exeunt]




	MACBETH


ACT II



SCENE IV	Outside Macbeth's castle.


	[Enter ROSS and an old Man]

Old Man	Threescore and ten I can remember well:
	Within the volume of which time I have seen
	Hours dreadful and things strange; but this sore night
	Hath trifled former knowings.

ROSS	Ah, good father,
	Thou seest, the heavens, as troubled with man's act,
	Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock, 'tis day,
	And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp:
	Is't night's predominance, or the day's shame,
	That darkness does the face of earth entomb,
	When living light should kiss it?

Old Man	'Tis unnatural,
	Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last,
	A falcon, towering in her pride of place,
	Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd.

ROSS	And Duncan's horses--a thing most strange and certain--
	Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race,
	Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out,
	Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would make
	War with mankind.

Old Man	'Tis said they eat each other.

ROSS	They did so, to the amazement of mine eyes
	That look'd upon't. Here comes the good Macduff.

	[Enter MACDUFF]

	How goes the world, sir, now?

MACDUFF	Why, see you not?

ROSS	Is't known who did this more than bloody deed?

MACDUFF	Those that Macbeth hath slain.

ROSS	Alas, the day!
	What good could they pretend?

MACDUFF	They were suborn'd:
	Malcolm and Donalbain, the king's two sons,
	Are stol'n away and fled; which puts upon them
	Suspicion of the deed.

ROSS	'Gainst nature still!
	Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up
	Thine own life's means! Then 'tis most like
	The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth.

MACDUFF	He is already named, and gone to Scone
	To be invested.

ROSS	                  Where is Duncan's body?

MACDUFF	Carried to Colmekill,
	The sacred storehouse of his predecessors,
	And guardian of their bones.

ROSS	Will you to Scone?

MACDUFF	No, cousin, I'll to Fife.

ROSS	Well, I will thither.

MACDUFF	Well, may you see things well done there: adieu!
	Lest our old robes sit easier than our new!

ROSS	Farewell, father.

Old Man	God's benison go with you; and with those
	That would make good of bad, and friends of foes!

	[Exeunt]




	MACBETH


ACT III



SCENE I	Forres. The palace.


	[Enter BANQUO]

BANQUO	Thou hast it now: king, Cawdor, Glamis, all,
	As the weird women promised, and, I fear,
	Thou play'dst most foully for't: yet it was said
	It should not stand in thy posterity,
	But that myself should be the root and father
	Of many kings. If there come truth from them--
	As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine--
	Why, by the verities on thee made good,
	May they not be my oracles as well,
	And set me up in hope? But hush! no more.

	[Sennet sounded. Enter MACBETH, as king, LADY
	MACBETH, as queen, LENNOX, ROSS, Lords, Ladies, and
	Attendants]

MACBETH	Here's our chief guest.

LADY MACBETH	If he had been forgotten,
	It had been as a gap in our great feast,
	And all-thing unbecoming.

MACBETH	To-night we hold a solemn supper sir,
	And I'll request your presence.

BANQUO	Let your highness
	Command upon me; to the which my duties
	Are with a most indissoluble tie
	For ever knit.

MACBETH	                  Ride you this afternoon?

BANQUO	Ay, my good lord.

MACBETH	We should have else desired your good advice,
	Which still hath been both grave and prosperous,
	In this day's council; but we'll take to-morrow.
	Is't far you ride?

BANQUO	As far, my lord, as will fill up the time
	'Twixt this and supper: go not my horse the better,
	I must become a borrower of the night
	For a dark hour or twain.

MACBETH	Fail not our feast.

BANQUO	My lord, I will not.

MACBETH	We hear, our bloody cousins are bestow'd
	In England and in Ireland, not confessing
	Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers
	With strange invention: but of that to-morrow,
	When therewithal we shall have cause of state
	Craving us jointly. Hie you to horse: adieu,
	Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you?

BANQUO	Ay, my good lord: our time does call upon 's.

MACBETH	I wish your horses swift and sure of foot;
	And so I do commend you to their backs. Farewell.

	[Exit BANQUO]

	Let every man be master of his time
	Till seven at night: to make society
	The sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself
	Till supper-time alone: while then, God be with you!

	[Exeunt all but MACBETH, and an attendant]

	Sirrah, a word with you: attend those men
	Our pleasure?

ATTENDANT	They are, my lord, without the palace gate.

MACBETH	Bring them before us.

	[Exit Attendant]

		To be thus is nothing;
	But to be safely thus.--Our fears in Banquo
	Stick deep; and in his royalty of nature
	Reigns that which would be fear'd: 'tis much he dares;
	And, to that dauntless temper of his mind,
	He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour
	To act in safety. There is none but he
	Whose being I do fear: and, under him,
	My Genius is rebuked; as, it is said,
	Mark Antony's was by Caesar. He chid the sisters
	When first they put the name of king upon me,
	And bade them speak to him: then prophet-like
	They hail'd him father to a line of kings:
	Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown,
	And put a barren sceptre in my gripe,
	Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand,
	No son of mine succeeding. If 't be so,
	For Banquo's issue have I filed my mind;
	For them the gracious Duncan have I murder'd;
	Put rancours in the vessel of my peace
	Only for them; and mine eternal jewel
	Given to the common enemy of man,
	To make them kings, the seed of Banquo kings!
	Rather than so, come fate into the list.
	And champion me to the utterance! Who's there!

	[Re-enter Attendant, with two Murderers]

	Now go to the door, and stay there till we call.

	[Exit Attendant]

	Was it not yesterday we spoke together?

First Murderer	It was, so please your highness.

MACBETH	Well then, now
	Have you consider'd of my speeches? Know
	That it was he in the times past which held you
	So under fortune, which you thought had been
	Our innocent self: this I made good to you
	In our last conference, pass'd in probation with you,
	How you were borne in hand, how cross'd,
	the instruments,
	Who wrought with them, and all things else that might
	To half a soul and to a notion crazed
	Say 'Thus did Banquo.'

First Murderer	You made it known to us.

MACBETH	I did so, and went further, which is now
	Our point of second meeting. Do you find
	Your patience so predominant in your nature
	That you can let this go? Are you so gospell'd
	To pray for this good man and for his issue,
	Whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave
	And beggar'd yours for ever?

First Murderer	We are men, my liege.

MACBETH	Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men;
	As hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs,
	Shoughs, water-rugs and demi-wolves, are clept
	All by the name of dogs: the valued file
	Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle,
	The housekeeper, the hunter, every one
	According to the gift which bounteous nature
	Hath in him closed; whereby he does receive
	Particular addition. from the bill
	That writes them all alike: and so of men.
	Now, if you have a station in the file,
	Not i' the worst rank of manhood, say 't;
	And I will put that business in your bosoms,
	Whose execution takes your enemy off,
	Grapples you to the heart and love of us,
	Who wear our health but sickly in his life,
	Which in his death were perfect.

Second Murderer	I am one, my liege,
	Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world
	Have so incensed that I am reckless what
	I do to spite the world.

First Murderer	And I another
	So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune,
	That I would set my lie on any chance,
	To mend it, or be rid on't.

MACBETH	Both of you
	Know Banquo was your enemy.

Both Murderers	True, my lord.

MACBETH	So is he mine; and in such bloody distance,
	That every minute of his being thrusts
	Against my near'st of life: and though I could
	With barefaced power sweep him from my sight
	And bid my will avouch it, yet I must not,
	For certain friends that are both his and mine,
	Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall
	Who I myself struck down; and thence it is,
	That I to your assistance do make love,
	Masking the business from the common eye
	For sundry weighty reasons.

Second Murderer	We shall, my lord,
	Perform what you command us.

First Murderer	Though our lives--

MACBETH	Your spirits shine through you. Within this hour at most
	I will advise you where to plant yourselves;
	Acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time,
	The moment on't; for't must be done to-night,
	And something from the palace; always thought
	That I require a clearness: and with him--
	To leave no rubs nor botches in the work--
	Fleance his son, that keeps him company,
	Whose absence is no less material to me
	Than is his father's, must embrace the fate
	Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart:
	I'll come to you anon.

Both Murderers	We are resolved, my lord.

MACBETH	I'll call upon you straight: abide within.

	[Exeunt Murderers]

	It is concluded. Banquo, thy soul's flight,
	If it find heaven, must find it out to-night.

	[Exit]




	MACBETH


ACT III



SCENE II	The palace.


	[Enter LADY MACBETH and a Servant]

LADY MACBETH	Is Banquo gone from court?

Servant	Ay, madam, but returns again to-night.

LADY MACBETH	Say to the king, I would attend his leisure
	For a few words.

Servant	                  Madam, I will.

	[Exit]

LADY MACBETH	Nought's had, all's spent,
	Where our desire is got without content:
	'Tis safer to be that which we destroy
	Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.

	[Enter MACBETH]

	How now, my lord! why do you keep alone,
	Of sorriest fancies your companions making,
	Using those thoughts which should indeed have died
	With them they think on? Things without all remedy
	Should be without regard: what's done is done.

MACBETH	We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it:
	She'll close and be herself, whilst our poor malice
	Remains in danger of her former tooth.
	But let the frame of things disjoint, both the
	worlds suffer,
	Ere we will eat our meal in fear and sleep
	In the affliction of these terrible dreams
	That shake us nightly: better be with the dead,
	Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace,
	Than on the torture of the mind to lie
	In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave;
	After life's fitful fever he sleeps well;
	Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison,
	Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing,
	Can touch him further.

LADY MACBETH	Come on;
	Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks;
	Be bright and jovial among your guests to-night.

MACBETH	So shall I, love; and so, I pray, be you:
	Let your remembrance apply to Banquo;
	Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue:
	Unsafe the while, that we
	Must lave our honours in these flattering streams,
	And make our faces vizards to our hearts,
	Disguising what they are.

LADY MACBETH	You must leave this.

MACBETH	O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!
	Thou know'st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives.

LADY MACBETH	But in them nature's copy's not eterne.

MACBETH	There's comfort yet; they are assailable;
	Then be thou jocund: ere the bat hath flown
	His cloister'd flight, ere to black Hecate's summons
	The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums
	Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done
	A deed of dreadful note.

LADY MACBETH	What's to be done?

MACBETH	Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck,
	Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night,
	Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day;
	And with thy bloody and invisible hand
	Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond
	Which keeps me pale! Light thickens; and the crow
	Makes wing to the rooky wood:
	Good things of day begin to droop and drowse;
	While night's black agents to their preys do rouse.
	Thou marvell'st at my words: but hold thee still;
	Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.
	So, prithee, go with me.

	[Exeunt]




	MACBETH


ACT III



SCENE III	A park near the palace.


	[Enter three Murderers]

First Murderer	But who did bid thee join with us?

Third Murderer	Macbeth.

Second Murderer	He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers
	Our offices and what we have to do
	To the direction just.

First Murderer	Then stand with us.
	The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day:
	Now spurs the lated traveller apace
	To gain the timely inn; and near approaches
	The subject of our watch.

Third Murderer	Hark! I hear horses.

BANQUO	[Within]  Give us a light there, ho!

Second Murderer	Then 'tis he: the rest
	That are within the note of expectation
	Already are i' the court.

First Murderer	His horses go about.

Third Murderer	Almost a mile: but he does usually,
	So all men do, from hence to the palace gate
	Make it their walk.

Second Murderer	A light, a light!

	[Enter BANQUO, and FLEANCE with a torch]

Third Murderer	'Tis he.

First Murderer	Stand to't.

BANQUO	It will be rain to-night.

First Murderer	Let it come down.

	[They set upon BANQUO]

BANQUO	O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly!
	Thou mayst revenge. O slave!

	[Dies. FLEANCE escapes]

Third Murderer	Who did strike out the light?

First Murderer	Wast not the way?

Third Murderer	There's but one down; the son is fled.

Second Murderer	We have lost
	Best half of our affair.

First Murderer	Well, let's away, and say how much is done.

	[Exeunt]




	MACBETH


ACT III



SCENE IV	The same. Hall in the palace.


	[A banquet prepared. Enter MACBETH, LADY MACBETH,
	ROSS, LENNOX, Lords, and Attendants]

MACBETH	You know your own degrees; sit down: at first
	And last the hearty welcome.
Lords	Thanks to your majesty.

MACBETH	Ourself will mingle with society,
	And play the humble host.
	Our hostess keeps her state, but in best time
	We will require her welcome.

LADY MACBETH	Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends;
	For my heart speaks they are welcome.

	[First Murderer appears at the door]

MACBETH	See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks.
	Both sides are even: here I'll sit i' the midst:
	Be large in mirth; anon we'll drink a measure
	The table round.

	[Approaching the door]

	There's blood on thy face.

First Murderer	'Tis Banquo's then.

MACBETH	'Tis better thee without than he within.
	Is he dispatch'd?

First Murderer	My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him.

MACBETH	Thou art the best o' the cut-throats: yet he's good
	That did the like for Fleance: if thou didst it,
	Thou art the nonpareil.

First Murderer	Most royal sir,
	Fleance is 'scaped.

MACBETH	Then comes my fit again: I had else been perfect,
	Whole as the marble, founded as the rock,
	As broad and general as the casing air:
	But now I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, bound in
	To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo's safe?

First Murderer	Ay, my good lord: safe in a ditch he bides,
	With twenty trenched gashes on his head;
	The least a death to nature.

MACBETH	Thanks for that:
	There the grown serpent lies; the worm that's fled
	Hath nature that in time will venom breed,
	No teeth for the present. Get thee gone: to-morrow
	We'll hear, ourselves, again.

	[Exit Murderer]

LADY MACBETH	My royal lord,
	You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold
	That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a-making,
	'Tis given with welcome: to feed were best at home;
	From thence the sauce to meat is ceremony;
	Meeting were bare without it.

MACBETH	Sweet remembrancer!
	Now, good digestion wait on appetite,
	And health on both!

LENNOX	May't please your highness sit.

	[The GHOST OF BANQUO enters, and sits in
	MACBETH's place]

MACBETH	Here had we now our country's honour roof'd,
	Were the graced person of our Banquo present;
	Who may I rather challenge for unkindness
	Than pity for mischance!

ROSS	His absence, sir,
	Lays blame upon his promise. Please't your highness
	To grace us with your royal company.

MACBETH	The table's full.

LENNOX	                  Here is a place reserved, sir.

MACBETH	Where?

LENNOX	Here, my good lord. What is't that moves your highness?

MACBETH	Which of you have done this?

Lords	What, my good lord?

MACBETH	Thou canst not say I did it: never shake
	Thy gory locks at me.

ROSS	Gentlemen, rise: his highness is not well.

LADY MACBETH	Sit, worthy friends: my lord is often thus,
	And hath been from his youth: pray you, keep seat;
	The fit is momentary; upon a thought
	He will again be well: if much you note him,
	You shall offend him and extend his passion:
	Feed, and regard him not. Are you a man?

MACBETH	Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that
	Which might appal the devil.

LADY MACBETH	O proper stuff!
	This is the very painting of your fear:
	This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said,
	Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws and starts,
	Impostors to true fear, would well become
	A woman's story at a winter's fire,
	Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself!
	Why do you make such faces? When all's done,
	You look but on a stool.

MACBETH	Prithee, see there! behold! look! lo!
	how say you?
	Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too.
	If charnel-houses and our graves must send
	Those that we bury back, our monuments
	Shall be the maws of kites.

	[GHOST OF BANQUO vanishes]

LADY MACBETH	What, quite unmann'd in folly?

MACBETH	If I stand here, I saw him.

LADY MACBETH	Fie, for shame!

MACBETH	Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time,
	Ere human statute purged the gentle weal;
	Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd
	Too terrible for the ear: the times have been,
	That, when the brains were out, the man would die,
	And there an end; but now they rise again,
	With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,
	And push us from our stools: this is more strange
	Than such a murder is.

LADY MACBETH	My worthy lord,
	Your noble friends do lack you.

MACBETH	I do forget.
	Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends,
	I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing
	To those that know me. Come, love and health to all;
	Then I'll sit down. Give me some wine; fill full.
	I drink to the general joy o' the whole table,
	And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss;
	Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst,
	And all to all.

Lords	                  Our duties, and the pledge.

	[Re-enter GHOST OF BANQUO]

MACBETH	Avaunt! and quit my sight! let the earth hide thee!
	Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold;
	Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
	Which thou dost glare with!

LADY MACBETH	Think of this, good peers,
	But as a thing of custom: 'tis no other;
	Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.

MACBETH	What man dare, I dare:
	Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear,
	The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger;
	Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves
	Shall never tremble: or be alive again,
	And dare me to the desert with thy sword;
	If trembling I inhabit then, protest me
	The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow!
	Unreal mockery, hence!

	[GHOST OF BANQUO vanishes]

		 Why, so: being gone,
	I am a man again. Pray you, sit still.

LADY MACBETH	You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting,
	With most admired disorder.

MACBETH	Can such things be,
	And overcome us like a summer's cloud,
	Without our special wonder? You make me strange
	Even to the disposition that I owe,
	When now I think you can behold such sights,
	And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks,
	When mine is blanched with fear.

ROSS	What sights, my lord?

LADY MACBETH	I pray you, speak not; he grows worse and worse;
	Question enrages him. At once, good night:
	Stand not upon the order of your going,
	But go at once.

LENNOX	                  Good night; and better health
	Attend his majesty!

LADY MACBETH	A kind good night to all!

	[Exeunt all but MACBETH and LADY MACBETH]

MACBETH	It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood:
	Stones have been known to move and trees to speak;
	Augurs and understood relations have
	By magot-pies and choughs and rooks brought forth
	The secret'st man of blood. What is the night?

LADY MACBETH	Almost at odds with morning, which is which.

MACBETH	How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his person
	At our great bidding?

LADY MACBETH	Did you send to him, sir?

MACBETH	I hear it by the way; but I will send:
	There's not a one of them but in his house
	I keep a servant fee'd. I will to-morrow,
	And betimes I will, to the weird sisters:
	More shall they speak; for now I am bent to know,
	By the worst means, the worst. For mine own good,
	All causes shall give way: I am in blood
	Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more,
	Returning were as tedious as go o'er:
	Strange things I have in head, that will to hand;
	Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd.

LADY MACBETH	You lack the season of all natures, sleep.

MACBETH	Come, we'll to sleep. My strange and self-abuse
	Is the initiate fear that wants hard use:
	We are yet but young in deed.

	[Exeunt]




	MACBETH


ACT III



SCENE V	A Heath.


	[Thunder. Enter the three Witches meeting HECATE]

First Witch	Why, how now, Hecate! you look angerly.

HECATE	Have I not reason, beldams as you are,
	Saucy and overbold? How did you dare
	To trade and traffic with Macbeth
	In riddles and affairs of death;
	And I, the mistress of your charms,
	The close contriver of all harms,
	Was never call'd to bear my part,
	Or show the glory of our art?
	And, which is worse, all you have done
	Hath been but for a wayward son,
	Spiteful and wrathful, who, as others do,
	Loves for his own ends, not for you.
	But make amends now: get you gone,
	And at the pit of Acheron
	Meet me i' the morning: thither he
	Will come to know his destiny:
	Your vessels and your spells provide,
	Your charms and every thing beside.
	I am for the air; this night I'll spend
	Unto a dismal and a fatal end:
	Great business must be wrought ere noon:
	Upon the corner of the moon
	There hangs a vaporous drop profound;
	I'll catch it ere it come to ground:
	And that distill'd by magic sleights
	Shall raise such artificial sprites
	As by the strength of their illusion
	Shall draw him on to his confusion:
	He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear
	He hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear:
	And you all know, security
	Is mortals' chiefest enemy.

	[Music and a song within: 'Come away, come
	away,' &c]

	Hark! I am call'd; my little spirit, see,
	Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me.

	[Exit]

First Witch	Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again.

	[Exeunt]




	MACBETH


ACT III



SCENE VI	Forres. The palace.


	[Enter LENNOX and another Lord]

LENNOX	My former speeches have but hit your thoughts,
	Which can interpret further: only, I say,
	Things have been strangely borne. The
	gracious Duncan
	Was pitied of Macbeth: marry, he was dead:
	And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late;
	Whom, you may say, if't please you, Fleance kill'd,
	For Fleance fled: men must not walk too late.
	Who cannot want the thought how monstrous
	It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain
	To kill their gracious father? damned fact!
	How it did grieve Macbeth! did he not straight
	In pious rage the two delinquents tear,
	That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep?
	Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too;
	For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive
	To hear the men deny't. So that, I say,
	He has borne all things well: and I do think
	That had he Duncan's sons under his key--
	As, an't please heaven, he shall not--they
	should find
	What 'twere to kill a father; so should Fleance.
	But, peace! for from broad words and 'cause he fail'd
	His presence at the tyrant's feast, I hear
	Macduff lives in disgrace: sir, can you tell
	Where he bestows himself?

Lord	The son of Duncan,
	From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth
	Lives in the English court, and is received
	Of the most pious Edward with such grace
	That the malevolence of fortune nothing
	Takes from his high respect: thither Macduff
	Is gone to pray the holy king, upon his aid
	To wake Northumberland and warlike Siward:
	That, by the help of these--with Him above
	To ratify the work--we may again
	Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights,
	Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives,
	Do faithful homage and receive free honours:
	All which we pine for now: and this report
	Hath so exasperate the king that he
	Prepares for some attempt of war.

LENNOX	Sent he to Macduff?

Lord	He did: and with an absolute 'Sir, not I,'
	The cloudy messenger turns me his back,
	And hums, as who should say 'You'll rue the time
	That clogs me with this answer.'

LENNOX	And that well might
	Advise him to a caution, to hold what distance
	His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel
	Fly to the court of England and unfold
	His message ere he come, that a swift blessing
	May soon return to this our suffering country
	Under a hand accursed!

Lord	I'll send my prayers with him.

	[Exeunt]




	MACBETH


ACT IV



SCENE I	A cavern. In the middle, a boiling cauldron.


	[Thunder. Enter the three Witches]


First Witch	Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd.

Second Witch	Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined.

Third Witch	Harpier cries 'Tis time, 'tis time.

First Witch	Round about the cauldron go;
	In the poison'd entrails throw.
	Toad, that under cold stone
	Days and nights has thirty-one
	Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
	Boil thou first i' the charmed pot.

ALL	Double, double toil and trouble;
	Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.

Second Witch	Fillet of a fenny snake,
	In the cauldron boil and bake;
	Eye of newt and toe of frog,
	Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
	Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,
	Lizard's leg and owlet's wing,
	For a charm of powerful trouble,
	Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

ALL	Double, double toil and trouble;
	Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Third Witch	Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
	Witches' mummy, maw and gulf
	Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark,
	Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark,
	Liver of blaspheming Jew,
	Gall of goat, and slips of yew
	Silver'd in the moon's eclipse,
	Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips,
	Finger of birth-strangled babe
	Ditch-deliver'd by a drab,
	Make the gruel thick and slab:
	Add thereto a tiger's chaudron,
	For the ingredients of our cauldron.

ALL	Double, double toil and trouble;
	Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Second Witch	Cool it with a baboon's blood,
	Then the charm is firm and good.

	[Enter HECATE to the other three Witches]

HECATE	O well done! I commend your pains;
	And every one shall share i' the gains;
	And now about the cauldron sing,
	Live elves and fairies in a ring,
	Enchanting all that you put in.

	[Music and a song: 'Black spirits,' &c]

	[HECATE retires]

Second Witch	By the pricking of my thumbs,
	Something wicked this way comes.
	Open, locks,
	Whoever knocks!

	[Enter MACBETH]

MACBETH	How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags!
	What is't you do?

ALL	                  A deed without a name.

MACBETH	I conjure you, by that which you profess,
	Howe'er you come to know it, answer me:
	Though you untie the winds and let them fight
	Against the churches; though the yesty waves
	Confound and swallow navigation up;
	Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down;
	Though castles topple on their warders' heads;
	Though palaces and pyramids do slope
	Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure
	Of nature's germens tumble all together,
	Even till destruction sicken; answer me
	To what I ask you.

First Witch	                  Speak.

Second Witch	Demand.

Third Witch	We'll answer.

First Witch	Say, if thou'dst rather hear it from our mouths,
	Or from our masters?

MACBETH	Call 'em; let me see 'em.

First Witch	Pour in sow's blood, that hath eaten
	Her nine farrow; grease that's sweaten
	From the murderer's gibbet throw
	Into the flame.

ALL	                  Come, high or low;
	Thyself and office deftly show!

	[Thunder. First Apparition: an armed Head]

MACBETH	Tell me, thou unknown power,--

First Witch	He knows thy thought:
	Hear his speech, but say thou nought.

First Apparition	Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Macduff;
	Beware the thane of Fife. Dismiss me. Enough.

	[Descends]

MACBETH	Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks;
	Thou hast harp'd my fear aright: but one
	word more,--

First Witch	He will not be commanded: here's another,
	More potent than the first.

	[Thunder. Second Apparition: A bloody Child]

Second Apparition	Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!

MACBETH	Had I three ears, I'ld hear thee.

Second Apparition	Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn
	The power of man, for none of woman born
	Shall harm Macbeth.

	[Descends]

MACBETH	Then live, Macduff: what need I fear of thee?
	But yet I'll make assurance double sure,
	And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live;
	That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies,
	And sleep in spite of thunder.

	[Thunder. Third Apparition: a Child crowned,
	with a tree in his hand]

		         What is this
	That rises like the issue of a king,
	And wears upon his baby-brow the round
	And top of sovereignty?

ALL	Listen, but speak not to't.

Third Apparition	Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care
	Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are:
	Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be until
	Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill
	Shall come against him.

	[Descends]

MACBETH	That will never be
	Who can impress the forest, bid the tree
	Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements! good!
	Rebellion's head, rise never till the wood
	Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth
	Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
	To time and mortal custom. Yet my heart
	Throbs to know one thing: tell me, if your art
	Can tell so much: shall Banquo's issue ever
	Reign in this kingdom?

ALL	Seek to know no more.

MACBETH	I will be satisfied: deny me this,
	And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know.
	Why sinks that cauldron? and what noise is this?

	[Hautboys]

First Witch	Show!

Second Witch	Show!

Third Witch	Show!

ALL	Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;
	Come like shadows, so depart!

	[A show of Eight Kings, the last with a glass in
	his hand; GHOST OF BANQUO following]

MACBETH	Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo: down!
	Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls. And thy hair,
	Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first.
	A third is like the former. Filthy hags!
	Why do you show me this? A fourth! Start, eyes!
	What, will the line stretch out to the crack of doom?
	Another yet! A seventh! I'll see no more:
	And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass
	Which shows me many more; and some I see
	That two-fold balls and treble scepters carry:
	Horrible sight! Now, I see, 'tis true;
	For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me,
	And points at them for his.

	[Apparitions vanish]

		      What, is this so?

First Witch	Ay, sir, all this is so: but why
	Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?
	Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites,
	And show the best of our delights:
	I'll charm the air to give a sound,
	While you perform your antic round:
	That this great king may kindly say,
	Our duties did his welcome pay.

	[Music. The witches dance and then vanish,
	with HECATE]

MACBETH	Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour
	Stand aye accursed in the calendar!
	Come in, without there!

	[Enter LENNOX]

LENNOX	What's your grace's will?

MACBETH	Saw you the weird sisters?

LENNOX	No, my lord.

MACBETH	Came they not by you?

LENNOX	No, indeed, my lord.

MACBETH	Infected be the air whereon they ride;
	And damn'd all those that trust them! I did hear
	The galloping of horse: who was't came by?

LENNOX	'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word
	Macduff is fled to England.

MACBETH	Fled to England!

LENNOX	Ay, my good lord.

MACBETH	Time, thou anticipatest my dread exploits:
	The flighty purpose never is o'ertook
	Unless the deed go with it; from this moment
	The very firstlings of my heart shall be
	The firstlings of my hand. And even now,
	To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done:
	The castle of Macduff I will surprise;
	Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o' the sword
	His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls
	That trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool;
	This deed I'll do before this purpose cool.
	But no more sights!--Where are these gentlemen?
	Come, bring me where they are.

	[Exeunt]




	MACBETH


ACT IV



SCENE II	Fife. Macduff's castle.


	[Enter LADY MACDUFF, her Son, and ROSS]

LADY MACDUFF	What had he done, to make him fly the land?

ROSS	You must have patience, madam.

LADY MACDUFF	He had none:
	His flight was madness: when our actions do not,
	Our fears do make us traitors.

ROSS	You know not
	Whether it was his wisdom or his fear.

LADY MACDUFF	Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his babes,
	His mansion and his titles in a place
	From whence himself does fly? He loves us not;
	He wants the natural touch: for the poor wren,
	The most diminutive of birds, will fight,
	Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.
	All is the fear and nothing is the love;
	As little is the wisdom, where the flight
	So runs against all reason.

ROSS	My dearest coz,
	I pray you, school yourself: but for your husband,
	He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows
	The fits o' the season. I dare not speak
	much further;
	But cruel are the times, when we are traitors
	And do not know ourselves, when we hold rumour
	From what we fear, yet know not what we fear,
	But float upon a wild and violent sea
	Each way and move. I take my leave of you:
	Shall not be long but I'll be here again:
	Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward
	To what they were before. My pretty cousin,
	Blessing upon you!

LADY MACDUFF	Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.

ROSS	I am so much a fool, should I stay longer,
	It would be my disgrace and your discomfort:
	I take my leave at once.

	[Exit]

LADY MACDUFF	Sirrah, your father's dead;
	And what will you do now? How will you live?

Son	As birds do, mother.

LADY MACDUFF	What, with worms and flies?

Son	With what I get, I mean; and so do they.

LADY MACDUFF	Poor bird! thou'ldst never fear the net nor lime,
	The pitfall nor the gin.

Son	Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for.
	My father is not dead, for all your saying.

LADY MACDUFF	Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for a father?

Son	Nay, how will you do for a husband?

LADY MACDUFF	Why, I can buy me twenty at any market.

Son	Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.

LADY MACDUFF	Thou speak'st with all thy wit: and yet, i' faith,
	With wit enough for thee.

Son	Was my father a traitor, mother?

LADY MACDUFF	Ay, that he was.

Son	What is a traitor?

LADY MACDUFF	Why, one that swears and lies.

Son	And be all traitors that do so?

LADY MACDUFF	Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hanged.

Son	And must they all be hanged that swear and lie?

LADY MACDUFF	Every one.

Son	Who must hang them?

LADY MACDUFF	Why, the honest men.

Son	Then the liars and swearers are fools,
	for there are liars and swearers enow to beat
	the honest men and hang up them.

LADY MACDUFF	Now, God help thee, poor monkey!
	But how wilt thou do for a father?

Son	If he were dead, you'ld weep for
	him: if you would not, it were a good sign
	that I should quickly have a new father.

LADY MACDUFF	Poor prattler, how thou talk'st!

	[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger	Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known,
	Though in your state of honour I am perfect.
	I doubt some danger does approach you nearly:
	If you will take a homely man's advice,
	Be not found here; hence, with your little ones.
	To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage;
	To do worse to you were fell cruelty,
	Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you!
	I dare abide no longer.

	[Exit]

LADY MACDUFF	Whither should I fly?
	I have done no harm. But I remember now
	I am in this earthly world; where to do harm
	Is often laudable, to do good sometime
	Accounted dangerous folly: why then, alas,
	Do I put up that womanly defence,
	To say I have done no harm?

	[Enter Murderers]

		      What are these faces?

First Murderer	Where is your husband?

LADY MACDUFF	I hope, in no place so unsanctified
	Where such as thou mayst find him.

First Murderer	He's a traitor.

Son	Thou liest, thou shag-hair'd villain!

First Murderer	What, you egg!

	[Stabbing him]

	Young fry of treachery!

Son	He has kill'd me, mother:
	Run away, I pray you!

	[Dies]

	[Exit LADY MACDUFF, crying 'Murder!' Exeunt
	Murderers, following her]



	MACBETH


ACT IV



SCENE III	England. Before the King's palace.


	[Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF]

MALCOLM	Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there
	Weep our sad bosoms empty.

MACDUFF	Let us rather
	Hold fast the mortal sword, and like good men
	Bestride our down-fall'n birthdom: each new morn
	New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows
	Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds
	As if it felt with Scotland and yell'd out
	Like syllable of dolour.

MALCOLM	What I believe I'll wail,
	What know believe, and what I can redress,
	As I shall find the time to friend, I will.
	What you have spoke, it may be so perchance.
	This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,
	Was once thought honest: you have loved him well.
	He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young;
	but something
	You may deserve of him through me, and wisdom
	To offer up a weak poor innocent lamb
	To appease an angry god.

MACDUFF	I am not treacherous.

MALCOLM	But Macbeth is.
	A good and virtuous nature may recoil
	In an imperial charge. But I shall crave
	your pardon;
	That which you are my thoughts cannot transpose:
	Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell;
	Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,
	Yet grace must still look so.

MACDUFF	I have lost my hopes.

MALCOLM	Perchance even there where I did find my doubts.
	Why in that rawness left you wife and child,
	Those precious motives, those strong knots of love,
	Without leave-taking? I pray you,
	Let not my jealousies be your dishonours,
	But mine own safeties. You may be rightly just,
	Whatever I shall think.

MACDUFF	Bleed, bleed, poor country!
	Great tyranny! lay thou thy basis sure,
	For goodness dare not cheque thee: wear thou
	thy wrongs;
	The title is affeer'd! Fare thee well, lord:
	I would not be the villain that thou think'st
	For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp,
	And the rich East to boot.

MALCOLM	Be not offended:
	I speak not as in absolute fear of you.
	I think our country sinks beneath the yoke;
	It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash
	Is added to her wounds: I think withal
	There would be hands uplifted in my right;
	And here from gracious England have I offer
	Of goodly thousands: but, for all this,
	When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head,
	Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country
	Shall have more vices than it had before,
	More suffer and more sundry ways than ever,
	By him that shall succeed.

MACDUFF	What should he be?

MALCOLM	It is myself I mean: in whom I know
	All the particulars of vice so grafted
	That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth
	Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state
	Esteem him as a lamb, being compared
	With my confineless harms.

MACDUFF	Not in the legions
	Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd
	In evils to top Macbeth.

MALCOLM	I grant him bloody,
	Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful,
	Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin
	That has a name: but there's no bottom, none,
	In my voluptuousness: your wives, your daughters,
	Your matrons and your maids, could not fill up
	The cistern of my lust, and my desire
	All continent impediments would o'erbear
	That did oppose my will: better Macbeth
	Than such an one to reign.

MACDUFF	Boundless intemperance
	In nature is a tyranny; it hath been
	The untimely emptying of the happy throne
	And fall of many kings. But fear not yet
	To take upon you what is yours: you may
	Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty,
	And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink.
	We have willing dames enough: there cannot be
	That vulture in you, to devour so many
	As will to greatness dedicate themselves,
	Finding it so inclined.

MALCOLM	With this there grows
	In my most ill-composed affection such
	A stanchless avarice that, were I king,
	I should cut off the nobles for their lands,
	Desire his jewels and this other's house:
	And my more-having would be as a sauce
	To make me hunger more; that I should forge
	Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal,
	Destroying them for wealth.

MACDUFF	This avarice
	Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root
	Than summer-seeming lust, and it hath been
	The sword of our slain kings: yet do not fear;
	Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will.
	Of your mere own: all these are portable,
	With other graces weigh'd.

MALCOLM	But I have none: the king-becoming graces,
	As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
	Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,
	Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
	I have no relish of them, but abound
	In the division of each several crime,
	Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should
	Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
	Uproar the universal peace, confound
	All unity on earth.

MACDUFF	O Scotland, Scotland!

MALCOLM	If such a one be fit to govern, speak:
	I am as I have spoken.

MACDUFF	Fit to govern!
	No, not to live. O nation miserable,
	With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd,
	When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again,
	Since that the truest issue of thy throne
	By his own interdiction stands accursed,
	And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal father
	Was a most sainted king: the queen that bore thee,
	Oftener upon her knees than on her feet,
	Died every day she lived. Fare thee well!
	These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself
	Have banish'd me from Scotland. O my breast,
	Thy hope ends here!

MALCOLM	Macduff, this noble passion,
	Child of integrity, hath from my soul
	Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts
	To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth
	By many of these trains hath sought to win me
	Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me
	From over-credulous haste: but God above
	Deal between thee and me! for even now
	I put myself to thy direction, and
	Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure
	The taints and blames I laid upon myself,
	For strangers to my nature. I am yet
	Unknown to woman, never was forsworn,
	Scarcely have coveted what was mine own,
	At no time broke my faith, would not betray
	The devil to his fellow and delight
	No less in truth than life: my first false speaking
	Was this upon myself: what I am truly,
	Is thine and my poor country's to command:
	Whither indeed, before thy here-approach,
	Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men,
	Already at a point, was setting forth.
	Now we'll together; and the chance of goodness
	Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent?

MACDUFF	Such welcome and unwelcome things at once
	'Tis hard to reconcile.

	[Enter a Doctor]

MALCOLM	Well; more anon.--Comes the king forth, I pray you?

Doctor	Ay, sir; there are a crew of wretched souls
	That stay his cure: their malady convinces
	The great assay of art; but at his touch--
	Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand--
	They presently amend.

MALCOLM	I thank you, doctor.

	[Exit Doctor]

MACDUFF	What's the disease he means?

MALCOLM	'Tis call'd the evil:
	A most miraculous work in this good king;
	Which often, since my here-remain in England,
	I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,
	Himself best knows: but strangely-visited people,
	All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
	The mere despair of surgery, he cures,
	Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,
	Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,
	To the succeeding royalty he leaves
	The healing benediction. With this strange virtue,
	He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy,
	And sundry blessings hang about his throne,
	That speak him full of grace.

	[Enter ROSS]

MACDUFF	See, who comes here?

MALCOLM	My countryman; but yet I know him not.

MACDUFF	My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.

MALCOLM	I know him now. Good God, betimes remove
	The means that makes us strangers!

ROSS	Sir, amen.

MACDUFF	Stands Scotland where it did?

ROSS	Alas, poor country!
	Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot
	Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing,
	But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile;
	Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rend the air
	Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems
	A modern ecstasy; the dead man's knell
	Is there scarce ask'd for who; and good men's lives
	Expire before the flowers in their caps,
	Dying or ere they sicken.

MACDUFF	O, relation
	Too nice, and yet too true!

MALCOLM	What's the newest grief?

ROSS	That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker:
	Each minute teems a new one.

MACDUFF	How does my wife?

ROSS	Why, well.

MACDUFF	         And all my children?

ROSS	Well too.

MACDUFF	The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace?

ROSS	No; they were well at peace when I did leave 'em.

MACDUFF	But not a niggard of your speech: how goes't?

ROSS	When I came hither to transport the tidings,
	Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour
	Of many worthy fellows that were out;
	Which was to my belief witness'd the rather,
	For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot:
	Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland
	Would create soldiers, make our women fight,
	To doff their dire distresses.

MALCOLM	Be't their comfort
	We are coming thither: gracious England hath
	Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men;
	An older and a better soldier none
	That Christendom gives out.

ROSS	Would I could answer
	This comfort with the like! But I have words
	That would be howl'd out in the desert air,
	Where hearing should not latch them.

MACDUFF	What concern they?
	The general cause? or is it a fee-grief
	Due to some single breast?

ROSS	No mind that's honest
	But in it shares some woe; though the main part
	Pertains to you alone.

MACDUFF	If it be mine,
	Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.

ROSS	Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever,
	Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound
	That ever yet they heard.

MACDUFF	Hum! I guess at it.

ROSS	Your castle is surprised; your wife and babes
	Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner,
	Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer,
	To add the death of you.

MALCOLM	Merciful heaven!
	What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows;
	Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak
	Whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break.

MACDUFF	My children too?

ROSS	                  Wife, children, servants, all
	That could be found.

MACDUFF	And I must be from thence!
	My wife kill'd too?

ROSS	I have said.

MALCOLM	Be comforted:
	Let's make us medicines of our great revenge,
	To cure this deadly grief.

MACDUFF	He has no children. All my pretty ones?
	Did you say all? O hell-kite! All?
	What, all my pretty chickens and their dam
	At one fell swoop?

MALCOLM	Dispute it like a man.

MACDUFF	I shall do so;
	But I must also feel it as a man:
	I cannot but remember such things were,
	That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on,
	And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff,
	They were all struck for thee! naught that I am,
	Not for their own demerits, but for mine,
	Fell slaughter on their souls. Heaven rest them now!

MALCOLM	Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief
	Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it.

MACDUFF	O, I could play the woman with mine eyes
	And braggart with my tongue! But, gentle heavens,
	Cut short all intermission; front to front
	Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself;
	Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape,
	Heaven forgive him too!

MALCOLM	This tune goes manly.
	Come, go we to the king; our power is ready;
	Our lack is nothing but our leave; Macbeth
	Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above
	Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may:
	The night is long that never finds the day.

	[Exeunt]




	MACBETH


ACT V



SCENE I	Dunsinane. Ante-room in the castle.


	[Enter a Doctor of Physic and a Waiting-Gentlewoman]

Doctor	I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive
	no truth in your report. When was it she last walked?

Gentlewoman	Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen
	her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown upon
	her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it,
	write upon't, read it, afterwards seal it, and again
	return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep.

Doctor	A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once
	the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of
	watching! In this slumbery agitation, besides her
	walking and other actual performances, what, at any
	time, have you heard her say?

Gentlewoman	That, sir, which I will not report after her.

Doctor	You may to me: and 'tis most meet you should.

Gentlewoman	Neither to you nor any one; having no witness to
	confirm my speech.

	[Enter LADY MACBETH, with a taper]

	Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise;
	and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close.

Doctor	How came she by that light?

Gentlewoman	Why, it stood by her: she has light by her
	continually; 'tis her command.

Doctor	You see, her eyes are open.

Gentlewoman	Ay, but their sense is shut.

Doctor	What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands.

Gentlewoman	It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus
	washing her hands: I have known her continue in
	this a quarter of an hour.

LADY MACBETH	Yet here's a spot.

Doctor	Hark! she speaks: I will set down what comes from
	her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.

LADY MACBETH	Out, damned spot! out, I say!--One: two: why,
	then, 'tis time to do't.--Hell is murky!--Fie, my
	lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we
	fear who knows it, when none can call our power to
	account?--Yet who would have thought the old man
	to have had so much blood in him.

Doctor	Do you mark that?

LADY MACBETH	The thane of Fife had a wife: where is she now?--
	What, will these hands ne'er be clean?--No more o'
	that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with
	this starting.

Doctor	Go to, go to; you have known what you should not.

Gentlewoman	She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of
	that: heaven knows what she has known.

LADY MACBETH	Here's the smell of the blood still: all the
	perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little
	hand. Oh, oh, oh!

Doctor	What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged.

Gentlewoman	I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the
	dignity of the whole body.

Doctor	Well, well, well,--

Gentlewoman	Pray God it be, sir.

Doctor	This disease is beyond my practise: yet I have known
	those which have walked in their sleep who have died
	holily in their beds.

LADY MACBETH	Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so
	pale.--I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he
	cannot come out on's grave.

Doctor	Even so?

LADY MACBETH	To bed, to bed! there's knocking at the gate:
	come, come, come, come, give me your hand. What's
	done cannot be undone.--To bed, to bed, to bed!

	[Exit]

Doctor	Will she go now to bed?

Gentlewoman	Directly.

Doctor	Foul whisperings are abroad: unnatural deeds
	Do breed unnatural troubles: infected minds
	To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets:
	More needs she the divine than the physician.
	God, God forgive us all! Look after her;
	Remove from her the means of all annoyance,
	And still keep eyes upon her. So, good night:
	My mind she has mated, and amazed my sight.
	I think, but dare not speak.

Gentlewoman	Good night, good doctor.

	[Exeunt]




	MACBETH

ACT V



SCENE II	The country near Dunsinane.


	[Drum and colours. Enter MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS,
	LENNOX, and Soldiers]

MENTEITH	The English power is near, led on by Malcolm,
	His uncle Siward and the good Macduff:
	Revenges burn in them; for their dear causes
	Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm
	Excite the mortified man.

ANGUS	Near Birnam wood
	Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming.

CAITHNESS	Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother?

LENNOX	For certain, sir, he is not: I have a file
	Of all the gentry: there is Siward's son,
	And many unrough youths that even now
	Protest their first of manhood.

MENTEITH	What does the tyrant?

CAITHNESS	Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies:
	Some say he's mad; others that lesser hate him
	Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain,
	He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause
	Within the belt of rule.

ANGUS	Now does he feel
	His secret murders sticking on his hands;
	Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach;
	Those he commands move only in command,
	Nothing in love: now does he feel his title
	Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe
	Upon a dwarfish thief.

MENTEITH	Who then shall blame
	His pester'd senses to recoil and start,
	When all that is within him does condemn
	Itself for being there?

CAITHNESS	Well, march we on,
	To give obedience where 'tis truly owed:
	Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal,
	And with him pour we in our country's purge
	Each drop of us.

LENNOX	                  Or so much as it needs,
	To dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds.
	Make we our march towards Birnam.

	[Exeunt, marching]




	MACBETH


ACT V



SCENE III	Dunsinane. A room in the castle.


	[Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants]

MACBETH	Bring me no more reports; let them fly all:
	Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,
	I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
	Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know
	All mortal consequences have pronounced me thus:
	'Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of woman
	Shall e'er have power upon thee.' Then fly,
	false thanes,
	And mingle with the English epicures:
	The mind I sway by and the heart I bear
	Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear.

	[Enter a Servant]

	The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!
	Where got'st thou that goose look?

Servant	There is ten thousand--

MACBETH	Geese, villain!

Servant	Soldiers, sir.

MACBETH	Go prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
	Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch?
	Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine
	Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face?

Servant	The English force, so please you.

MACBETH	Take thy face hence.

	[Exit Servant]

		Seyton!--I am sick at heart,
	When I behold--Seyton, I say!--This push
	Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now.
	I have lived long enough: my way of life
	Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf;
	And that which should accompany old age,
	As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,
	I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
	Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
	Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not. Seyton!

	[Enter SEYTON]

SEYTON	What is your gracious pleasure?

MACBETH	What news more?

SEYTON	All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported.

MACBETH	I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hack'd.
	Give me my armour.

SEYTON	'Tis not needed yet.

MACBETH	I'll put it on.
	Send out more horses; skirr the country round;
	Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armour.
	How does your patient, doctor?

Doctor	Not so sick, my lord,
	As she is troubled with thick coming fancies,
	That keep her from her rest.

MACBETH	Cure her of that.
	Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
	Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,
	Raze out the written troubles of the brain
	And with some sweet oblivious antidote
	Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff
	Which weighs upon the heart?

Doctor	Therein the patient
	Must minister to himself.

MACBETH	Throw physic to the dogs; I'll none of it.
	Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff.
	Seyton, send out. Doctor, the thanes fly from me.
	Come, sir, dispatch. If thou couldst, doctor, cast
	The water of my land, find her disease,
	And purge it to a sound and pristine health,
	I would applaud thee to the very echo,
	That should applaud again.--Pull't off, I say.--
	What rhubarb, cyme, or what purgative drug,
	Would scour these English hence? Hear'st thou of them?

Doctor	Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation
	Makes us hear something.

MACBETH	Bring it after me.
	I will not be afraid of death and bane,
	Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.

Doctor	[Aside]  Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,
	Profit again should hardly draw me here.

	[Exeunt]




	MACBETH


ACT V



SCENE IV	Country near Birnam wood.


	[Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, SIWARD and YOUNG
	SIWARD, MACDUFF, MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS,
	LENNOX, ROSS, and Soldiers, marching]

MALCOLM	Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand
	That chambers will be safe.

MENTEITH	We doubt it nothing.

SIWARD	What wood is this before us?

MENTEITH	The wood of Birnam.

MALCOLM	Let every soldier hew him down a bough
	And bear't before him: thereby shall we shadow
	The numbers of our host and make discovery
	Err in report of us.

Soldiers	It shall be done.

SIWARD	We learn no other but the confident tyrant
	Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure
	Our setting down before 't.

MALCOLM	'Tis his main hope:
	For where there is advantage to be given,
	Both more and less have given him the revolt,
	And none serve with him but constrained things
	Whose hearts are absent too.

MACDUFF	Let our just censures
	Attend the true event, and put we on
	Industrious soldiership.

SIWARD	The time approaches
	That will with due decision make us know
	What we shall say we have and what we owe.
	Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate,
	But certain issue strokes must arbitrate:
	Towards which advance the war.

	[Exeunt, marching]




	MACBETH


ACT V



SCENE V	Dunsinane. Within the castle.


	[Enter MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers, with drum
	and colours]

MACBETH	Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
	The cry is still 'They come:' our castle's strength
	Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie
	Till famine and the ague eat them up:
	Were they not forced with those that should be ours,
	We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
	And beat them backward home.

	[A cry of women within]

		       What is that noise?

SEYTON	It is the cry of women, my good lord.

	[Exit]

MACBETH	I have almost forgot the taste of fears;
	The time has been, my senses would have cool'd
	To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
	Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir
	As life were in't: I have supp'd full with horrors;
	Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts
	Cannot once start me.

	[Re-enter SEYTON]

		Wherefore was that cry?

SEYTON	The queen, my lord, is dead.

MACBETH	She should have died hereafter;
	There would have been a time for such a word.
	To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
	Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
	To the last syllable of recorded time,
	And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
	The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
	Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
	That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
	And then is heard no more: it is a tale
	Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
	Signifying nothing.

	[Enter a Messenger]

	Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.

Messenger	Gracious my lord,
	I should report that which I say I saw,
	But know not how to do it.

MACBETH	Well, say, sir.

Messenger	As I did stand my watch upon the hill,
	I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought,
	The wood began to move.

MACBETH	Liar and slave!

Messenger	Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so:
	Within this three mile may you see it coming;
	I say, a moving grove.

MACBETH	If thou speak'st false,
	Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,
	Till famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth,
	I care not if thou dost for me as much.
	I pull in resolution, and begin
	To doubt the equivocation of the fiend
	That lies like truth: 'Fear not, till Birnam wood
	Do come to Dunsinane:'  and now a wood
	Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out!
	If this which he avouches does appear,
	There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here.
	I gin to be aweary of the sun,
	And wish the estate o' the world were now undone.
	Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack!
	At least we'll die with harness on our back.

	[Exeunt]




	MACBETH


ACT V



SCENE VI	Dunsinane. Before the castle.


	[Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, SIWARD, MACDUFF,
	and their Army, with boughs]

MALCOLM	Now near enough: your leafy screens throw down.
	And show like those you are. You, worthy uncle,
	Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son,
	Lead our first battle: worthy Macduff and we
	Shall take upon 's what else remains to do,
	According to our order.

SIWARD	Fare you well.
	Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night,
	Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight.

MACDUFF	Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath,
	Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death.

	[Exeunt]




	MACBETH


ACT V



SCENE VII	Another part of the field.


	[Alarums. Enter MACBETH]

MACBETH	They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly,
	But, bear-like, I must fight the course. What's he
	That was not born of woman? Such a one
	Am I to fear, or none.

	[Enter YOUNG SIWARD]

YOUNG SIWARD	What is thy name?

MACBETH	                  Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.

YOUNG SIWARD	No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter name
	Than any is in hell.

MACBETH	My name's Macbeth.

YOUNG SIWARD	The devil himself could not pronounce a title
	More hateful to mine ear.

MACBETH	No, nor more fearful.

YOUNG SIWARD	Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword
	I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.

	[They fight and YOUNG SIWARD is slain]

MACBETH	Thou wast born of woman
	But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn,
	Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born.

	[Exit]

	[Alarums. Enter MACDUFF]

MACDUFF	That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face!
	If thou be'st slain and with no stroke of mine,
	My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still.
	I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms
	Are hired to bear their staves: either thou, Macbeth,
	Or else my sword with an unbatter'd edge
	I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be;
	By this great clatter, one of greatest note
	Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune!
	And more I beg not.

	[Exit. Alarums]

	[Enter MALCOLM and SIWARD]

SIWARD	This way, my lord; the castle's gently render'd:
	The tyrant's people on both sides do fight;
	The noble thanes do bravely in the war;
	The day almost itself professes yours,
	And little is to do.

MALCOLM	We have met with foes
	That strike beside us.

SIWARD	Enter, sir, the castle.

	[Exeunt. Alarums]




	MACBETH


ACT V



SCENE VIII	Another part of the field.


	[Enter MACBETH]

MACBETH	Why should I play the Roman fool, and die
	On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes
	Do better upon them.

	[Enter MACDUFF]

MACDUFF	Turn, hell-hound, turn!

MACBETH	Of all men else I have avoided thee:
	But get thee back; my soul is too much charged
	With blood of thine already.

MACDUFF	I have no words:
	My voice is in my sword: thou bloodier villain
	Than terms can give thee out!

	[They fight]

MACBETH	Thou losest labour:
	As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air
	With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed:
	Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests;
	I bear a charmed life, which must not yield,
	To one of woman born.

MACDUFF	Despair thy charm;
	And let the angel whom thou still hast served
	Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb
	Untimely ripp'd.

MACBETH	Accursed be that tongue that tells me so,
	For it hath cow'd my better part of man!
	And be these juggling fiends no more believed,
	That palter with us in a double sense;
	That keep the word of promise to our ear,
	And break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee.

MACDUFF	Then yield thee, coward,
	And live to be the show and gaze o' the time:
	We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,
	Painted on a pole, and underwrit,
	'Here may you see the tyrant.'

MACBETH	I will not yield,
	To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet,
	And to be baited with the rabble's curse.
	Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,
	And thou opposed, being of no woman born,
	Yet I will try the last. Before my body
	I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff,
	And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'

	[Exeunt, fighting. Alarums]

	[Retreat. Flourish. Enter, with drum and colours,
	MALCOLM, SIWARD, ROSS, the other Thanes, and Soldiers]

MALCOLM	I would the friends we miss were safe arrived.

SIWARD	Some must go off: and yet, by these I see,
	So great a day as this is cheaply bought.

MALCOLM	Macduff is missing, and your noble son.

ROSS	Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt:
	He only lived but till he was a man;
	The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd
	In the unshrinking station where he fought,
	But like a man he died.

SIWARD	Then he is dead?

ROSS	Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow
	Must not be measured by his worth, for then
	It hath no end.

SIWARD	                  Had he his hurts before?

ROSS	Ay, on the front.

SIWARD	                  Why then, God's soldier be he!
	Had I as many sons as I have hairs,
	I would not wish them to a fairer death:
	And so, his knell is knoll'd.

MALCOLM	He's worth more sorrow,
	And that I'll spend for him.

SIWARD	He's worth no more
	They say he parted well, and paid his score:
	And so, God be with him! Here comes newer comfort.

	[Re-enter MACDUFF, with MACBETH's head]

MACDUFF	Hail, king! for so thou art: behold, where stands
	The usurper's cursed head: the time is free:
	I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl,
	That speak my salutation in their minds;
	Whose voices I desire aloud with mine:
	Hail, King of Scotland!

ALL	Hail, King of Scotland!

	[Flourish]

MALCOLM	We shall not spend a large expense of time
	Before we reckon with your several loves,
	And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmen,
	Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
	In such an honour named. What's more to do,
	Which would be planted newly with the time,
	As calling home our exiled friends abroad
	That fled the snares of watchful tyranny;
	Producing forth the cruel ministers
	Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen,
	Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands
	Took off her life; this, and what needful else
	That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace,
	We will perform in measure, time and place:
	So, thanks to all at once and to each one,
	Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone.

	[Flourish. Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE



MARK ANTONY		|
		|
OCTAVIUS CAESAR		|  triumvirs.
		|
M. AEMILIUS		|
LEPIDUS	(LEPIDUS:)	|


SEXTUS POMPEIUS	(POMPEY:)


DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	|
	|
VENTIDIUS	|
	|
EROS	|
	|
SCARUS	|  friends to Antony.
	|
DERCETAS	|
	|
DEMETRIUS	|
	|
PHILO	|


MECAENAS	|
	|
AGRIPPA	|
	|
DOLABELLA	|
	|
PROCULEIUS	|  friends to Caesar.
	|
THYREUS	|
	|
GALLUS	|
	|
MENAS	|


MENECRATES	|
	|  friends to Pompey.
VARRIUS	|


TAURUS	lieutenant-general to Caesar.

CANIDIUS	lieutenant-general to Antony.

SILIUS	an officer in Ventidius's army.

EUPHRONIUS	an ambassador from Antony to Caesar.

	
ALEXAS		|
		|
MARDIAN	a Eunuch.	|
		|  attendants on Cleopatra.
SELEUCUS		|
		|
DIOMEDES		|


	A Soothsayer. (Soothsayer:)

	A Clown. (Clown:)

CLEOPATRA	queen of Egypt.

OCTAVIA	sister to Caesar and wife to Antony.


CHARMIAN	|
	|  attendants on Cleopatra.
IRAS	|


	Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and other Attendants.
	(First Officer:)
	(Second Officer:)
	(Third Officer:)
	(Messenger:)
	(Second Messenger:)
	(First Servant:)
	(Second Servant:)
	(Egyptian:)
	(Guard:)
	(First Guard:)
	(Second Guard:)
	(Attendant:)
	(First Attendant:)
	(Second Attendant:)



SCENE	In several parts of the Roman empire.




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT I



SCENE I	Alexandria. A room in CLEOPATRA's palace.


	[Enter DEMETRIUS and PHILO]

PHILO	Nay, but this dotage of our general's
	O'erflows the measure: those his goodly eyes,
	That o'er the files and musters of the war
	Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn,
	The office and devotion of their view
	Upon a tawny front: his captain's heart,
	Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst
	The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper,
	And is become the bellows and the fan
	To cool a gipsy's lust.

	[Flourish. Enter ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, her Ladies,
	the Train, with Eunuchs fanning her]

		  Look, where they come:
	Take but good note, and you shall see in him.
	The triple pillar of the world transform'd
	Into a strumpet's fool: behold and see.

CLEOPATRA	If it be love indeed, tell me how much.

MARK ANTONY	There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd.

CLEOPATRA	I'll set a bourn how far to be beloved.

MARK ANTONY	Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth.

	[Enter an Attendant]

Attendant	News, my good lord, from Rome.

MARK ANTONY	Grates me: the sum.

CLEOPATRA	Nay, hear them, Antony:
	Fulvia perchance is angry; or, who knows
	If the scarce-bearded Caesar have not sent
	His powerful mandate to you, 'Do this, or this;
	Take in that kingdom, and enfranchise that;
	Perform 't, or else we damn thee.'

MARK ANTONY	How, my love!

CLEOPATRA	Perchance! nay, and most like:
	You must not stay here longer, your dismission
	Is come from Caesar; therefore hear it, Antony.
	Where's Fulvia's process? Caesar's I would say? both?
	Call in the messengers. As I am Egypt's queen,
	Thou blushest, Antony; and that blood of thine
	Is Caesar's homager: else so thy cheek pays shame
	When shrill-tongued Fulvia scolds. The messengers!

MARK ANTONY	Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch
	Of the ranged empire fall! Here is my space.
	Kingdoms are clay: our dungy earth alike
	Feeds beast as man: the nobleness of life
	Is to do thus; when such a mutual pair

	[Embracing]

	And such a twain can do't, in which I bind,
	On pain of punishment, the world to weet
	We stand up peerless.

CLEOPATRA	Excellent falsehood!
	Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her?
	I'll seem the fool I am not; Antony
	Will be himself.

MARK ANTONY	                  But stirr'd by Cleopatra.
	Now, for the love of Love and her soft hours,
	Let's not confound the time with conference harsh:
	There's not a minute of our lives should stretch
	Without some pleasure now. What sport tonight?

CLEOPATRA	Hear the ambassadors.

MARK ANTONY	Fie, wrangling queen!
	Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh,
	To weep; whose every passion fully strives
	To make itself, in thee, fair and admired!
	No messenger, but thine; and all alone
	To-night we'll wander through the streets and note
	The qualities of people. Come, my queen;
	Last night you did desire it: speak not to us.

	[Exeunt MARK ANTONY and CLEOPATRA with
	their train]

DEMETRIUS	Is Caesar with Antonius prized so slight?

PHILO	Sir, sometimes, when he is not Antony,
	He comes too short of that great property
	Which still should go with Antony.

DEMETRIUS	I am full sorry
	That he approves the common liar, who
	Thus speaks of him at Rome: but I will hope
	Of better deeds to-morrow. Rest you happy!

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT I



SCENE II	The same. Another room.


	[Enter CHARMIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, and a Soothsayer]

CHARMIAN	Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, most any thing Alexas,
	almost most absolute Alexas, where's the soothsayer
	that you praised so to the queen? O, that I knew
	this husband, which, you say, must charge his horns
	with garlands!

ALEXAS	Soothsayer!

Soothsayer	Your will?

CHARMIAN	Is this the man? Is't you, sir, that know things?

Soothsayer	In nature's infinite book of secrecy
	A little I can read.

ALEXAS	Show him your hand.

	[Enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Bring in the banquet quickly; wine enough
	Cleopatra's health to drink.

CHARMIAN	Good sir, give me good fortune.

Soothsayer	I make not, but foresee.

CHARMIAN	Pray, then, foresee me one.

Soothsayer	You shall be yet far fairer than you are.

CHARMIAN	He means in flesh.

IRAS	No, you shall paint when you are old.

CHARMIAN	Wrinkles forbid!

ALEXAS	Vex not his prescience; be attentive.

CHARMIAN	Hush!

Soothsayer	You shall be more beloving than beloved.

CHARMIAN	I had rather heat my liver with drinking.

ALEXAS	Nay, hear him.

CHARMIAN	Good now, some excellent fortune! Let me be married
	to three kings in a forenoon, and widow them all:
	let me have a child at fifty, to whom Herod of Jewry
	may do homage: find me to marry me with Octavius
	Caesar, and companion me with my mistress.

Soothsayer	You shall outlive the lady whom you serve.

CHARMIAN	O excellent! I love long life better than figs.

Soothsayer	You have seen and proved a fairer former fortune
	Than that which is to approach.

CHARMIAN	Then belike my children shall have no names:
	prithee, how many boys and wenches must I have?

Soothsayer	If every of your wishes had a womb.
	And fertile every wish, a million.

CHARMIAN	Out, fool! I forgive thee for a witch.

ALEXAS	You think none but your sheets are privy to your wishes.

CHARMIAN	Nay, come, tell Iras hers.

ALEXAS	We'll know all our fortunes.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Mine, and most of our fortunes, to-night, shall
	be--drunk to bed.

IRAS	There's a palm presages chastity, if nothing else.

CHARMIAN	E'en as the o'erflowing Nilus presageth famine.

IRAS	Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot soothsay.

CHARMIAN	Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruitful
	prognostication, I cannot scratch mine ear. Prithee,
	tell her but a worky-day fortune.

Soothsayer	Your fortunes are alike.

IRAS	But how, but how? give me particulars.

Soothsayer	I have said.

IRAS	Am I not an inch of fortune better than she?

CHARMIAN	Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better than
	I, where would you choose it?

IRAS	Not in my husband's nose.

CHARMIAN	Our worser thoughts heavens mend! Alexas,--come,
	his fortune, his fortune! O, let him marry a woman
	that cannot go, sweet Isis, I beseech thee! and let
	her die too, and give him a worse! and let worst
	follow worse, till the worst of all follow him
	laughing to his grave, fifty-fold a cuckold! Good
	Isis, hear me this prayer, though thou deny me a
	matter of more weight; good Isis, I beseech thee!

IRAS	Amen. Dear goddess, hear that prayer of the people!
	for, as it is a heartbreaking to see a handsome man
	loose-wived, so it is a deadly sorrow to behold a
	foul knave uncuckolded: therefore, dear Isis, keep
	decorum, and fortune him accordingly!

CHARMIAN	Amen.

ALEXAS	Lo, now, if it lay in their hands to make me a
	cuckold, they would make themselves whores, but
	they'ld do't!

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Hush! here comes Antony.

CHARMIAN	Not he; the queen.

	[Enter CLEOPATRA]

CLEOPATRA	Saw you my lord?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	                  No, lady.

CLEOPATRA	Was he not here?

CHARMIAN	No, madam.

CLEOPATRA	He was disposed to mirth; but on the sudden
	A Roman thought hath struck him. Enobarbus!

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Madam?

CLEOPATRA	Seek him, and bring him hither.
	Where's Alexas?

ALEXAS	Here, at your service. My lord approaches.

CLEOPATRA	We will not look upon him: go with us.

	[Exeunt]

	[Enter MARK ANTONY with a Messenger and Attendants]

Messenger	Fulvia thy wife first came into the field.

MARK ANTONY	Against my brother Lucius?

Messenger	Ay:
	But soon that war had end, and the time's state
	Made friends of them, joining their force 'gainst Caesar;
	Whose better issue in the war, from Italy,
	Upon the first encounter, drave them.

MARK ANTONY	Well, what worst?

Messenger	The nature of bad news infects the teller.

MARK ANTONY	When it concerns the fool or coward. On:
	Things that are past are done with me. 'Tis thus:
	Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death,
	I hear him as he flatter'd.

Messenger	Labienus--
	This is stiff news--hath, with his Parthian force,
	Extended Asia from Euphrates;
	His conquering banner shook from Syria
	To Lydia and to Ionia; Whilst--

MARK ANTONY	Antony, thou wouldst say,--

Messenger	O, my lord!

MARK ANTONY	Speak to me home, mince not the general tongue:
	Name Cleopatra as she is call'd in Rome;
	Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase; and taunt my faults
	With such full licence as both truth and malice
	Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth weeds,
	When our quick minds lie still; and our ills told us
	Is as our earing. Fare thee well awhile.

Messenger	At your noble pleasure.

	[Exit]

MARK ANTONY	From Sicyon, ho, the news! Speak there!

First Attendant	The man from Sicyon,--is there such an one?

Second Attendant	He stays upon your will.

MARK ANTONY	Let him appear.
	These strong Egyptian fetters I must break,
	Or lose myself in dotage.

	[Enter another Messenger]

		    What are you?

Second Messenger	Fulvia thy wife is dead.

MARK ANTONY	Where died she?

Second Messenger	In Sicyon:
	Her length of sickness, with what else more serious
	Importeth thee to know, this bears.

	[Gives a letter]

MARK ANTONY	Forbear me.

	[Exit Second Messenger]

	There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it:
	What our contempt doth often hurl from us,
	We wish it ours again; the present pleasure,
	By revolution lowering, does become
	The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone;
	The hand could pluck her back that shoved her on.
	I must from this enchanting queen break off:
	Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know,
	My idleness doth hatch. How now! Enobarbus!

	[Re-enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	What's your pleasure, sir?

MARK ANTONY	I must with haste from hence.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Why, then, we kill all our women:
	we see how mortal an unkindness is to them;
	if they suffer our departure, death's the word.

MARK ANTONY	I must be gone.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Under a compelling occasion, let women die; it were
	pity to cast them away for nothing; though, between
	them and a great cause, they should be esteemed
	nothing. Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of
	this, dies instantly; I have seen her die twenty
	times upon far poorer moment: I do think there is
	mettle in death, which commits some loving act upon
	her, she hath such a celerity in dying.

MARK ANTONY	She is cunning past man's thought.

	[Exit ALEXAS]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Alack, sir, no; her passions are made of nothing but
	the finest part of pure love: we cannot call her
	winds and waters sighs and tears; they are greater
	storms and tempests than almanacs can report: this
	cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a
	shower of rain as well as Jove.

MARK ANTONY	Would I had never seen her.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	O, sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece
	of work; which not to have been blest withal would
	have discredited your travel.

MARK ANTONY	Fulvia is dead.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Sir?

MARK ANTONY	Fulvia is dead.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Fulvia!

MARK ANTONY	Dead.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. When
	it pleaseth their deities to take the wife of a man
	from him, it shows to man the tailors of the earth;
	comforting therein, that when old robes are worn
	out, there are members to make new. If there were
	no more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut,
	and the case to be lamented: this grief is crowned
	with consolation; your old smock brings forth a new
	petticoat: and indeed the tears live in an onion
	that should water this sorrow.

MARK ANTONY	The business she hath broached in the state
	Cannot endure my absence.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	And the business you have broached here cannot be
	without you; especially that of Cleopatra's, which
	wholly depends on your abode.

MARK ANTONY	No more light answers. Let our officers
	Have notice what we purpose. I shall break
	The cause of our expedience to the queen,
	And get her leave to part. For not alone
	The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches,
	Do strongly speak to us; but the letters too
	Of many our contriving friends in Rome
	Petition us at home: Sextus Pompeius
	Hath given the dare to Caesar, and commands
	The empire of the sea: our slippery people,
	Whose love is never link'd to the deserver
	Till his deserts are past, begin to throw
	Pompey the Great and all his dignities
	Upon his son; who, high in name and power,
	Higher than both in blood and life, stands up
	For the main soldier: whose quality, going on,
	The sides o' the world may danger: much is breeding,
	Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but life,
	And not a serpent's poison. Say, our pleasure,
	To such whose place is under us, requires
	Our quick remove from hence.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	I shall do't.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT I



SCENE III	The same. Another room.


	[Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS]

CLEOPATRA	Where is he?

CHARMIAN	                  I did not see him since.

CLEOPATRA	See where he is, who's with him, what he does:
	I did not send you: if you find him sad,
	Say I am dancing; if in mirth, report
	That I am sudden sick: quick, and return.

	[Exit ALEXAS]

CHARMIAN	Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly,
	You do not hold the method to enforce
	The like from him.

CLEOPATRA	                  What should I do, I do not?

CHARMIAN	In each thing give him way, cross him nothing.

CLEOPATRA	Thou teachest like a fool; the way to lose him.

CHARMIAN	Tempt him not so too far; I wish, forbear:
	In time we hate that which we often fear.
	But here comes Antony.

	[Enter MARK ANTONY]

CLEOPATRA	I am sick and sullen.

MARK ANTONY	I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose,--

CLEOPATRA	Help me away, dear Charmian; I shall fall:
	It cannot be thus long, the sides of nature
	Will not sustain it.

MARK ANTONY	Now, my dearest queen,--

CLEOPATRA	Pray you, stand further from me.

MARK ANTONY	What's the matter?

CLEOPATRA	I know, by that same eye, there's some good news.
	What says the married woman? You may go:
	Would she had never given you leave to come!
	Let her not say 'tis I that keep you here:
	I have no power upon you; hers you are.

MARK ANTONY	The gods best know,--

CLEOPATRA	O, never was there queen
	So mightily betray'd! yet at the first
	I saw the treasons planted.

MARK ANTONY	Cleopatra,--

CLEOPATRA	Why should I think you can be mine and true,
	Though you in swearing shake the throned gods,
	Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness,
	To be entangled with those mouth-made vows,
	Which break themselves in swearing!

MARK ANTONY	Most sweet queen,--

CLEOPATRA	Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your going,
	But bid farewell, and go: when you sued staying,
	Then was the time for words: no going then;
	Eternity was in our lips and eyes,
	Bliss in our brows' bent; none our parts so poor,
	But was a race of heaven: they are so still,
	Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world,
	Art turn'd the greatest liar.

MARK ANTONY	How now, lady!

CLEOPATRA	I would I had thy inches; thou shouldst know
	There were a heart in Egypt.

MARK ANTONY	Hear me, queen:
	The strong necessity of time commands
	Our services awhile; but my full heart
	Remains in use with you. Our Italy
	Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius
	Makes his approaches to the port of Rome:
	Equality of two domestic powers
	Breed scrupulous faction: the hated, grown to strength,
	Are newly grown to love: the condemn'd Pompey,
	Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace,
	Into the hearts of such as have not thrived
	Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten;
	And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge
	By any desperate change: my more particular,
	And that which most with you should safe my going,
	Is Fulvia's death.

CLEOPATRA	Though age from folly could not give me freedom,
	It does from childishness: can Fulvia die?

MARK ANTONY	She's dead, my queen:
	Look here, and at thy sovereign leisure read
	The garboils she awaked; at the last, best:
	See when and where she died.

CLEOPATRA	O most false love!
	Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill
	With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see,
	In Fulvia's death, how mine received shall be.

MARK ANTONY	Quarrel no more, but be prepared to know
	The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,
	As you shall give the advice. By the fire
	That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence
	Thy soldier, servant; making peace or war
	As thou affect'st.

CLEOPATRA	                  Cut my lace, Charmian, come;
	But let it be: I am quickly ill, and well,
	So Antony loves.

MARK ANTONY	                  My precious queen, forbear;
	And give true evidence to his love, which stands
	An honourable trial.

CLEOPATRA	So Fulvia told me.
	I prithee, turn aside and weep for her,
	Then bid adieu to me, and say the tears
	Belong to Egypt: good now, play one scene
	Of excellent dissembling; and let it look
	Life perfect honour.

MARK ANTONY	You'll heat my blood: no more.

CLEOPATRA	You can do better yet; but this is meetly.

MARK ANTONY	Now, by my sword,--

CLEOPATRA	And target. Still he mends;
	But this is not the best. Look, prithee, Charmian,
	How this Herculean Roman does become
	The carriage of his chafe.

MARK ANTONY	I'll leave you, lady.

CLEOPATRA	Courteous lord, one word.
	Sir, you and I must part, but that's not it:
	Sir, you and I have loved, but there's not it;
	That you know well: something it is I would,
	O, my oblivion is a very Antony,
	And I am all forgotten.

MARK ANTONY	But that your royalty
	Holds idleness your subject, I should take you
	For idleness itself.

CLEOPATRA	'Tis sweating labour
	To bear such idleness so near the heart
	As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me;
	Since my becomings kill me, when they do not
	Eye well to you: your honour calls you hence;
	Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly.
	And all the gods go with you! upon your sword
	Sit laurel victory! and smooth success
	Be strew'd before your feet!

MARK ANTONY	Let us go. Come;
	Our separation so abides, and flies,
	That thou, residing here, go'st yet with me,
	And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee. Away!

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT I



SCENE IV	Rome. OCTAVIUS CAESAR's house.


	[Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, reading a letter, LEPIDUS,
	and their Train]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know,
	It is not Caesar's natural vice to hate
	Our great competitor: from Alexandria
	This is the news: he fishes, drinks, and wastes
	The lamps of night in revel; is not more man-like
	Than Cleopatra; nor the queen of Ptolemy
	More womanly than he; hardly gave audience, or
	Vouchsafed to think he had partners: you shall find there
	A man who is the abstract of all faults
	That all men follow.

LEPIDUS	I must not think there are
	Evils enow to darken all his goodness:
	His faults in him seem as the spots of heaven,
	More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary,
	Rather than purchased; what he cannot change,
	Than what he chooses.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	You are too indulgent. Let us grant, it is not
	Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy;
	To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit
	And keep the turn of tippling with a slave;
	To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet
	With knaves that smell of sweat: say this
	becomes him,--
	As his composure must be rare indeed
	Whom these things cannot blemish,--yet must Antony
	No way excuse his soils, when we do bear
	So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd
	His vacancy with his voluptuousness,
	Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones,
	Call on him for't: but to confound such time,
	That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud
	As his own state and ours,--'tis to be chid
	As we rate boys, who, being mature in knowledge,
	Pawn their experience to their present pleasure,
	And so rebel to judgment.

	[Enter a Messenger]

LEPIDUS	Here's more news.

Messenger	Thy biddings have been done; and every hour,
	Most noble Caesar, shalt thou have report
	How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea;
	And it appears he is beloved of those
	That only have fear'd Caesar: to the ports
	The discontents repair, and men's reports
	Give him much wrong'd.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	I should have known no less.
	It hath been taught us from the primal state,
	That he which is was wish'd until he were;
	And the ebb'd man, ne'er loved till ne'er worth love,
	Comes dear'd by being lack'd. This common body,
	Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream,
	Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide,
	To rot itself with motion.

Messenger	Caesar, I bring thee word,
	Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates,
	Make the sea serve them, which they ear and wound
	With keels of every kind: many hot inroads
	They make in Italy; the borders maritime
	Lack blood to think on't, and flush youth revolt:
	No vessel can peep forth, but 'tis as soon
	Taken as seen; for Pompey's name strikes more
	Than could his war resisted.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Antony,
	Leave thy lascivious wassails. When thou once
	Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st
	Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel
	Did famine follow; whom thou fought'st against,
	Though daintily brought up, with patience more
	Than savages could suffer: thou didst drink
	The stale of horses, and the gilded puddle
	Which beasts would cough at: thy palate then did deign
	The roughest berry on the rudest hedge;
	Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets,
	The barks of trees thou browsed'st; on the Alps
	It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh,
	Which some did die to look on: and all this--
	It wounds thine honour that I speak it now--
	Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek
	So much as lank'd not.

LEPIDUS	'Tis pity of him.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Let his shames quickly
	Drive him to Rome: 'tis time we twain
	Did show ourselves i' the field; and to that end
	Assemble we immediate council: Pompey
	Thrives in our idleness.

LEPIDUS	To-morrow, Caesar,
	I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly
	Both what by sea and land I can be able
	To front this present time.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Till which encounter,
	It is my business too. Farewell.

LEPIDUS	Farewell, my lord: what you shall know meantime
	Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir,
	To let me be partaker.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Doubt not, sir;
	I knew it for my bond.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT I



SCENE V	Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace.


	[Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN]

CLEOPATRA	Charmian!

CHARMIAN	Madam?

CLEOPATRA	Ha, ha!
	Give me to drink mandragora.

CHARMIAN	Why, madam?

CLEOPATRA	That I might sleep out this great gap of time
	My Antony is away.

CHARMIAN	                  You think of him too much.

CLEOPATRA	O, 'tis treason!

CHARMIAN	                  Madam, I trust, not so.

CLEOPATRA	Thou, eunuch Mardian!

MARDIAN	What's your highness' pleasure?

CLEOPATRA	Not now to hear thee sing; I take no pleasure
	In aught an eunuch has: 'tis well for thee,
	That, being unseminar'd, thy freer thoughts
	May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections?

MARDIAN	Yes, gracious madam.

CLEOPATRA	Indeed!

MARDIAN	Not in deed, madam; for I can do nothing
	But what indeed is honest to be done:
	Yet have I fierce affections, and think
	What Venus did with Mars.

CLEOPATRA	O Charmian,
	Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he?
	Or does he walk? or is he on his horse?
	O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!
	Do bravely, horse! for wot'st thou whom thou movest?
	The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm
	And burgonet of men. He's speaking now,
	Or murmuring 'Where's my serpent of old Nile?'
	For so he calls me: now I feed myself
	With most delicious poison. Think on me,
	That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black,
	And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Caesar,
	When thou wast here above the ground, I was
	A morsel for a monarch: and great Pompey
	Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow;
	There would he anchor his aspect and die
	With looking on his life.

	[Enter ALEXAS, from OCTAVIUS CAESAR]

ALEXAS	Sovereign of Egypt, hail!

CLEOPATRA	How much unlike art thou Mark Antony!
	Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath
	With his tinct gilded thee.
	How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?

ALEXAS	Last thing he did, dear queen,
	He kiss'd,--the last of many doubled kisses,--
	This orient pearl. His speech sticks in my heart.

CLEOPATRA	Mine ear must pluck it thence.

ALEXAS	'Good friend,' quoth he,
	'Say, the firm Roman to great Egypt sends
	This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot,
	To mend the petty present, I will piece
	Her opulent throne with kingdoms; all the east,
	Say thou, shall call her mistress.' So he nodded,
	And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed,
	Who neigh'd so high, that what I would have spoke
	Was beastly dumb'd by him.

CLEOPATRA	What, was he sad or merry?

ALEXAS	Like to the time o' the year between the extremes
	Of hot and cold, he was nor sad nor merry.

CLEOPATRA	O well-divided disposition! Note him,
	Note him good Charmian, 'tis the man; but note him:
	He was not sad, for he would shine on those
	That make their looks by his; he was not merry,
	Which seem'd to tell them his remembrance lay
	In Egypt with his joy; but between both:
	O heavenly mingle! Be'st thou sad or merry,
	The violence of either thee becomes,
	So does it no man else. Met'st thou my posts?

ALEXAS	Ay, madam, twenty several messengers:
	Why do you send so thick?

CLEOPATRA	Who's born that day
	When I forget to send to Antony,
	Shall die a beggar. Ink and paper, Charmian.
	Welcome, my good Alexas. Did I, Charmian,
	Ever love Caesar so?

CHARMIAN	O that brave Caesar!

CLEOPATRA	Be choked with such another emphasis!
	Say, the brave Antony.

CHARMIAN	The valiant Caesar!

CLEOPATRA	By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth,
	If thou with Caesar paragon again
	My man of men.

CHARMIAN	                  By your most gracious pardon,
	I sing but after you.

CLEOPATRA	My salad days,
	When I was green in judgment: cold in blood,
	To say as I said then! But, come, away;
	Get me ink and paper:
	He shall have every day a several greeting,
	Or I'll unpeople Egypt.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT II



SCENE I	Messina. POMPEY's house.


	[Enter POMPEY, MENECRATES, and MENAS, in
	warlike manner]

POMPEY	If the great gods be just, they shall assist
	The deeds of justest men.

MENECRATES	Know, worthy Pompey,
	That what they do delay, they not deny.

POMPEY	Whiles we are suitors to their throne, decays
	The thing we sue for.

MENECRATES	We, ignorant of ourselves,
	Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers
	Deny us for our good; so find we profit
	By losing of our prayers.

POMPEY	I shall do well:
	The people love me, and the sea is mine;
	My powers are crescent, and my auguring hope
	Says it will come to the full. Mark Antony
	In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make
	No wars without doors: Caesar gets money where
	He loses hearts: Lepidus flatters both,
	Of both is flatter'd; but he neither loves,
	Nor either cares for him.

MENAS	Caesar and Lepidus
	Are in the field: a mighty strength they carry.

POMPEY	Where have you this? 'tis false.

MENAS	From Silvius, sir.

POMPEY	He dreams: I know they are in Rome together,
	Looking for Antony. But all the charms of love,
	Salt Cleopatra, soften thy waned lip!
	Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both!
	Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts,
	Keep his brain fuming; Epicurean cooks
	Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite;
	That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour
	Even till a Lethe'd dulness!

	[Enter VARRIUS]

		       How now, Varrius!

VARRIUS	This is most certain that I shall deliver:
	Mark Antony is every hour in Rome
	Expected: since he went from Egypt 'tis
	A space for further travel.

POMPEY	I could have given less matter
	A better ear. Menas, I did not think
	This amorous surfeiter would have donn'd his helm
	For such a petty war: his soldiership
	Is twice the other twain: but let us rear
	The higher our opinion, that our stirring
	Can from the lap of Egypt's widow pluck
	The ne'er-lust-wearied Antony.

MENAS	I cannot hope
	Caesar and Antony shall well greet together:
	His wife that's dead did trespasses to Caesar;
	His brother warr'd upon him; although, I think,
	Not moved by Antony.

POMPEY	I know not, Menas,
	How lesser enmities may give way to greater.
	Were't not that we stand up against them all,
	'Twere pregnant they should square between
	themselves;
	For they have entertained cause enough
	To draw their swords: but how the fear of us
	May cement their divisions and bind up
	The petty difference, we yet not know.
	Be't as our gods will have't! It only stands
	Our lives upon to use our strongest hands.
	Come, Menas.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT II



SCENE II	Rome. The house of LEPIDUS.


	[Enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS and LEPIDUS]

LEPIDUS	Good Enobarbus, 'tis a worthy deed,
	And shall become you well, to entreat your captain
	To soft and gentle speech.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	I shall entreat him
	To answer like himself: if Caesar move him,
	Let Antony look over Caesar's head
	And speak as loud as Mars. By Jupiter,
	Were I the wearer of Antonius' beard,
	I would not shave't to-day.

LEPIDUS	'Tis not a time
	For private stomaching.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Every time
	Serves for the matter that is then born in't.

LEPIDUS	But small to greater matters must give way.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Not if the small come first.

LEPIDUS	Your speech is passion:
	But, pray you, stir no embers up. Here comes
	The noble Antony.

	[Enter MARK ANTONY and VENTIDIUS]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	                  And yonder, Caesar.

	[Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, MECAENAS, and AGRIPPA]

MARK ANTONY	If we compose well here, to Parthia:
	Hark, Ventidius.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	                  I do not know,
	Mecaenas; ask Agrippa.

LEPIDUS	Noble friends,
	That which combined us was most great, and let not
	A leaner action rend us. What's amiss,
	May it be gently heard: when we debate
	Our trivial difference loud, we do commit
	Murder in healing wounds: then, noble partners,
	The rather, for I earnestly beseech,
	Touch you the sourest points with sweetest terms,
	Nor curstness grow to the matter.

MARK ANTONY	'Tis spoken well.
	Were we before our armies, and to fight.
	I should do thus.

	[Flourish]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Welcome to Rome.

MARK ANTONY	                  Thank you.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Sit.

MARK ANTONY	Sit, sir.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Nay, then.

MARK ANTONY	I learn, you take things ill which are not so,
	Or being, concern you not.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	I must be laugh'd at,
	If, or for nothing or a little, I
	Should say myself offended, and with you
	Chiefly i' the world; more laugh'd at, that I should
	Once name you derogately, when to sound your name
	It not concern'd me.

MARK ANTONY	My being in Egypt, Caesar,
	What was't to you?

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	No more than my residing here at Rome
	Might be to you in Egypt: yet, if you there
	Did practise on my state, your being in Egypt
	Might be my question.

MARK ANTONY	How intend you, practised?

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	You may be pleased to catch at mine intent
	By what did here befal me. Your wife and brother
	Made wars upon me; and their contestation
	Was theme for you, you were the word of war.

MARK ANTONY	You do mistake your business; my brother never
	Did urge me in his act: I did inquire it;
	And have my learning from some true reports,
	That drew their swords with you. Did he not rather
	Discredit my authority with yours;
	And make the wars alike against my stomach,
	Having alike your cause? Of this my letters
	Before did satisfy you. If you'll patch a quarrel,
	As matter whole you have not to make it with,
	It must not be with this.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	You praise yourself
	By laying defects of judgment to me; but
	You patch'd up your excuses.

MARK ANTONY	Not so, not so;
	I know you could not lack, I am certain on't,
	Very necessity of this thought, that I,
	Your partner in the cause 'gainst which he fought,
	Could not with graceful eyes attend those wars
	Which fronted mine own peace. As for my wife,
	I would you had her spirit in such another:
	The third o' the world is yours; which with a snaffle
	You may pace easy, but not such a wife.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Would we had all such wives, that the men might go
	to wars with the women!

MARK ANTONY	So much uncurbable, her garboils, Caesar
	Made out of her impatience, which not wanted
	Shrewdness of policy too, I grieving grant
	Did you too much disquiet: for that you must
	But say, I could not help it.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	I wrote to you
	When rioting in Alexandria; you
	Did pocket up my letters, and with taunts
	Did gibe my missive out of audience.

MARK ANTONY	Sir,
	He fell upon me ere admitted: then
	Three kings I had newly feasted, and did want
	Of what I was i' the morning: but next day
	I told him of myself; which was as much
	As to have ask'd him pardon. Let this fellow
	Be nothing of our strife; if we contend,
	Out of our question wipe him.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	You have broken
	The article of your oath; which you shall never
	Have tongue to charge me with.

LEPIDUS	Soft, Caesar!

MARK ANTONY	No,
	Lepidus, let him speak:
	The honour is sacred which he talks on now,
	Supposing that I lack'd it. But, on, Caesar;
	The article of my oath.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	To lend me arms and aid when I required them;
	The which you both denied.

MARK ANTONY	Neglected, rather;
	And then when poison'd hours had bound me up
	From mine own knowledge. As nearly as I may,
	I'll play the penitent to you: but mine honesty
	Shall not make poor my greatness, nor my power
	Work without it. Truth is, that Fulvia,
	To have me out of Egypt, made wars here;
	For which myself, the ignorant motive, do
	So far ask pardon as befits mine honour
	To stoop in such a case.

LEPIDUS	'Tis noble spoken.

MECAENAS	If it might please you, to enforce no further
	The griefs between ye: to forget them quite
	Were to remember that the present need
	Speaks to atone you.

LEPIDUS	Worthily spoken, Mecaenas.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Or, if you borrow one another's love for the
	instant, you may, when you hear no more words of
	Pompey, return it again: you shall have time to
	wrangle in when you have nothing else to do.

MARK ANTONY	Thou art a soldier only: speak no more.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	That truth should be silent I had almost forgot.

MARK ANTONY	You wrong this presence; therefore speak no more.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Go to, then; your considerate stone.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	I do not much dislike the matter, but
	The manner of his speech; for't cannot be
	We shall remain in friendship, our conditions
	So differing in their acts. Yet if I knew
	What hoop should hold us stanch, from edge to edge
	O' the world I would pursue it.

AGRIPPA	Give me leave, Caesar,--

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Speak, Agrippa.

AGRIPPA	Thou hast a sister by the mother's side,
	Admired Octavia: great Mark Antony
	Is now a widower.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	                  Say not so, Agrippa:
	If Cleopatra heard you, your reproof
	Were well deserved of rashness.

MARK ANTONY	I am not married, Caesar: let me hear
	Agrippa further speak.

AGRIPPA	To hold you in perpetual amity,
	To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts
	With an unslipping knot, take Antony
	Octavia to his wife; whose beauty claims
	No worse a husband than the best of men;
	Whose virtue and whose general graces speak
	That which none else can utter. By this marriage,
	All little jealousies, which now seem great,
	And all great fears, which now import their dangers,
	Would then be nothing: truths would be tales,
	Where now half tales be truths: her love to both
	Would, each to other and all loves to both,
	Draw after her. Pardon what I have spoke;
	For 'tis a studied, not a present thought,
	By duty ruminated.

MARK ANTONY	                  Will Caesar speak?

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Not till he hears how Antony is touch'd
	With what is spoke already.

MARK ANTONY	What power is in Agrippa,
	If I would say, 'Agrippa, be it so,'
	To make this good?

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	                  The power of Caesar, and
	His power unto Octavia.

MARK ANTONY	May I never
	To this good purpose, that so fairly shows,
	Dream of impediment! Let me have thy hand:
	Further this act of grace: and from this hour
	The heart of brothers govern in our loves
	And sway our great designs!

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	There is my hand.
	A sister I bequeath you, whom no brother
	Did ever love so dearly: let her live
	To join our kingdoms and our hearts; and never
	Fly off our loves again!

LEPIDUS	Happily, amen!

MARK ANTONY	I did not think to draw my sword 'gainst Pompey;
	For he hath laid strange courtesies and great
	Of late upon me: I must thank him only,
	Lest my remembrance suffer ill report;
	At heel of that, defy him.

LEPIDUS	Time calls upon's:
	Of us must Pompey presently be sought,
	Or else he seeks out us.

MARK ANTONY	Where lies he?

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	About the mount Misenum.

MARK ANTONY	What is his strength by land?

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Great and increasing: but by sea
	He is an absolute master.

MARK ANTONY	So is the fame.
	Would we had spoke together! Haste we for it:
	Yet, ere we put ourselves in arms, dispatch we
	The business we have talk'd of.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	With most gladness:
	And do invite you to my sister's view,
	Whither straight I'll lead you.

MARK ANTONY	Let us, Lepidus,
	Not lack your company.

LEPIDUS	Noble Antony,
	Not sickness should detain me.

	[Flourish. Exeunt OCTAVIUS CAESAR, MARK ANTONY,
	and LEPIDUS]

MECAENAS	Welcome from Egypt, sir.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Half the heart of Caesar, worthy Mecaenas! My
	honourable friend, Agrippa!

AGRIPPA	Good Enobarbus!

MECAENAS	We have cause to be glad that matters are so well
	digested. You stayed well by 't in Egypt.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Ay, sir; we did sleep day out of countenance, and
	made the night light with drinking.

MECAENAS	Eight wild-boars roasted whole at a breakfast, and
	but twelve persons there; is this true?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	This was but as a fly by an eagle: we had much more
	monstrous matter of feast, which worthily deserved noting.

MECAENAS	She's a most triumphant lady, if report be square to
	her.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	When she first met Mark Antony, she pursed up
	his heart, upon the river of Cydnus.

AGRIPPA	There she appeared indeed; or my reporter devised
	well for her.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	I will tell you.
	The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne,
	Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
	Purple the sails, and so perfumed that
	The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver,
	Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
	The water which they beat to follow faster,
	As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
	It beggar'd all description: she did lie
	In her pavilion--cloth-of-gold of tissue--
	O'er-picturing that Venus where we see
	The fancy outwork nature: on each side her
	Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids,
	With divers-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem
	To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
	And what they undid did.

AGRIPPA	O, rare for Antony!

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides,
	So many mermaids, tended her i' the eyes,
	And made their bends adornings: at the helm
	A seeming mermaid steers: the silken tackle
	Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands,
	That yarely frame the office. From the barge
	A strange invisible perfume hits the sense
	Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast
	Her people out upon her; and Antony,
	Enthroned i' the market-place, did sit alone,
	Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy,
	Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too,
	And made a gap in nature.

AGRIPPA	Rare Egyptian!

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Upon her landing, Antony sent to her,
	Invited her to supper: she replied,
	It should be better he became her guest;
	Which she entreated: our courteous Antony,
	Whom ne'er the word of 'No' woman heard speak,
	Being barber'd ten times o'er, goes to the feast,
	And for his ordinary pays his heart
	For what his eyes eat only.

AGRIPPA	Royal wench!
	She made great Caesar lay his sword to bed:
	He plough'd her, and she cropp'd.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	I saw her once
	Hop forty paces through the public street;
	And having lost her breath, she spoke, and panted,
	That she did make defect perfection,
	And, breathless, power breathe forth.

MECAENAS	Now Antony must leave her utterly.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Never; he will not:
	Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
	Her infinite variety: other women cloy
	The appetites they feed: but she makes hungry
	Where most she satisfies; for vilest things
	Become themselves in her: that the holy priests
	Bless her when she is riggish.

MECAENAS	If beauty, wisdom, modesty, can settle
	The heart of Antony, Octavia is
	A blessed lottery to him.

AGRIPPA	Let us go.
	Good Enobarbus, make yourself my guest
	Whilst you abide here.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Humbly, sir, I thank you.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT II



SCENE III	The same. OCTAVIUS CAESAR's house.


	[Enter MARK ANTONY, OCTAVIUS CAESAR, OCTAVIA between
	them, and Attendants]

MARK ANTONY	The world and my great office will sometimes
	Divide me from your bosom.

OCTAVIA	All which time
	Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers
	To them for you.

MARK ANTONY	                  Good night, sir. My Octavia,
	Read not my blemishes in the world's report:
	I have not kept my square; but that to come
	Shall all be done by the rule. Good night, dear lady.
	Good night, sir.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Good night.

	[Exeunt OCTAVIUS CAESAR and OCTAVIA]

	[Enter Soothsayer]

MARK ANTONY	Now, sirrah; you do wish yourself in Egypt?

Soothsayer	Would I had never come from thence, nor you Thither!

MARK ANTONY	If you can, your reason?

Soothsayer	I see it in
	My motion, have it not in my tongue: but yet
	Hie you to Egypt again.

MARK ANTONY	Say to me,
	Whose fortunes shall rise higher, Caesar's or mine?

Soothsayer	Caesar's.
	Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side:
	Thy demon, that's thy spirit which keeps thee, is
	Noble, courageous high, unmatchable,
	Where Caesar's is not; but, near him, thy angel
	Becomes a fear, as being o'erpower'd: therefore
	Make space enough between you.

MARK ANTONY	Speak this no more.

Soothsayer	To none but thee; no more, but when to thee.
	If thou dost play with him at any game,
	Thou art sure to lose; and, of that natural luck,
	He beats thee 'gainst the odds: thy lustre thickens,
	When he shines by: I say again, thy spirit
	Is all afraid to govern thee near him;
	But, he away, 'tis noble.

MARK ANTONY	Get thee gone:
	Say to Ventidius I would speak with him:

	[Exit Soothsayer]

	He shall to Parthia. Be it art or hap,
	He hath spoken true: the very dice obey him;
	And in our sports my better cunning faints
	Under his chance: if we draw lots, he speeds;
	His cocks do win the battle still of mine,
	When it is all to nought; and his quails ever
	Beat mine, inhoop'd, at odds. I will to Egypt:
	And though I make this marriage for my peace,
	I' the east my pleasure lies.

	[Enter VENTIDIUS]

		        O, come, Ventidius,
	You must to Parthia: your commission's ready;
	Follow me, and receive't.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT II



SCENE IV	The same. A street.


	[Enter LEPIDUS, MECAENAS, and AGRIPPA]

LEPIDUS	Trouble yourselves no further: pray you, hasten
	Your generals after.

AGRIPPA	Sir, Mark Antony
	Will e'en but kiss Octavia, and we'll follow.

LEPIDUS	Till I shall see you in your soldier's dress,
	Which will become you both, farewell.

MECAENAS	We shall,
	As I conceive the journey, be at the Mount
	Before you, Lepidus.

LEPIDUS	Your way is shorter;
	My purposes do draw me much about:
	You'll win two days upon me.


MECAENAS	|
	|	Sir, good success!
AGRIPPA	|


LEPIDUS	Farewell.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT II



SCENE V	Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace.


	[Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS]

CLEOPATRA	Give me some music; music, moody food
	Of us that trade in love.

Attendants	The music, ho!

	[Enter MARDIAN]

CLEOPATRA	Let it alone; let's to billiards: come, Charmian.

CHARMIAN	My arm is sore; best play with Mardian.

CLEOPATRA	As well a woman with an eunuch play'd
	As with a woman. Come, you'll play with me, sir?

MARDIAN	As well as I can, madam.

CLEOPATRA	And when good will is show'd, though't come
	too short,
	The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now:
	Give me mine angle; we'll to the river: there,
	My music playing far off, I will betray
	Tawny-finn'd fishes; my bended hook shall pierce
	Their slimy jaws; and, as I draw them up,
	I'll think them every one an Antony,
	And say 'Ah, ha! you're caught.'

CHARMIAN	'Twas merry when
	You wager'd on your angling; when your diver
	Did hang a salt-fish on his hook, which he
	With fervency drew up.

CLEOPATRA	That time,--O times!--
	I laugh'd him out of patience; and that night
	I laugh'd him into patience; and next morn,
	Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed;
	Then put my tires and mantles on him, whilst
	I wore his sword Philippan.

	[Enter a Messenger]

		      O, from Italy
	Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears,
	That long time have been barren.

Messenger	Madam, madam,--

CLEOPATRA	Antonius dead!--If thou say so, villain,
	Thou kill'st thy mistress: but well and free,
	If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here
	My bluest veins to kiss; a hand that kings
	Have lipp'd, and trembled kissing.

Messenger	First, madam, he is well.

CLEOPATRA	Why, there's more gold.
	But, sirrah, mark, we use
	To say the dead are well: bring it to that,
	The gold I give thee will I melt and pour
	Down thy ill-uttering throat.

Messenger	Good madam, hear me.

CLEOPATRA	Well, go to, I will;
	But there's no goodness in thy face: if Antony
	Be free and healthful,--so tart a favour
	To trumpet such good tidings! If not well,
	Thou shouldst come like a Fury crown'd with snakes,
	Not like a formal man.

Messenger	Will't please you hear me?

CLEOPATRA	I have a mind to strike thee ere thou speak'st:
	Yet if thou say Antony lives, is well,
	Or friends with Caesar, or not captive to him,
	I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail
	Rich pearls upon thee.

Messenger	Madam, he's well.

CLEOPATRA	Well said.

Messenger	And friends with Caesar.

CLEOPATRA	Thou'rt an honest man.

Messenger	Caesar and he are greater friends than ever.

CLEOPATRA	Make thee a fortune from me.

Messenger	But yet, madam,--

CLEOPATRA	I do not like 'But yet,' it does allay
	The good precedence; fie upon 'But yet'!
	'But yet' is as a gaoler to bring forth
	Some monstrous malefactor. Prithee, friend,
	Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear,
	The good and bad together: he's friends with Caesar:
	In state of health thou say'st; and thou say'st free.

Messenger	Free, madam! no; I made no such report:
	He's bound unto Octavia.

CLEOPATRA	For what good turn?

Messenger	For the best turn i' the bed.

CLEOPATRA	I am pale, Charmian.

Messenger	Madam, he's married to Octavia.

CLEOPATRA	The most infectious pestilence upon thee!

	[Strikes him down]

Messenger	Good madam, patience.

CLEOPATRA	What say you? Hence,

	[Strikes him again]

	Horrible villain! or I'll spurn thine eyes
	Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head:

	[She hales him up and down]

	Thou shalt be whipp'd with wire, and stew'd in brine,
	Smarting in lingering pickle.

Messenger	Gracious madam,
	I that do bring the news made not the match.

CLEOPATRA	Say 'tis not so, a province I will give thee,
	And make thy fortunes proud: the blow thou hadst
	Shall make thy peace for moving me to rage;
	And I will boot thee with what gift beside
	Thy modesty can beg.

Messenger	He's married, madam.

CLEOPATRA	Rogue, thou hast lived too long.

	[Draws a knife]

Messenger	Nay, then I'll run.
	What mean you, madam? I have made no fault.

	[Exit]

CHARMIAN	Good madam, keep yourself within yourself:
	The man is innocent.

CLEOPATRA	Some innocents 'scape not the thunderbolt.
	Melt Egypt into Nile! and kindly creatures
	Turn all to serpents! Call the slave again:
	Though I am mad, I will not bite him: call.

CHARMIAN	He is afeard to come.

CLEOPATRA	I will not hurt him.

	[Exit CHARMIAN]

	These hands do lack nobility, that they strike
	A meaner than myself; since I myself
	Have given myself the cause.

	[Re-enter CHARMIAN and Messenger]

		       Come hither, sir.
	Though it be honest, it is never good
	To bring bad news: give to a gracious message.
	An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell
	Themselves when they be felt.

Messenger	I have done my duty.

CLEOPATRA	Is he married?
	I cannot hate thee worser than I do,
	If thou again say 'Yes.'

Messenger	He's married, madam.

CLEOPATRA	The gods confound thee! dost thou hold there still?

Messenger	Should I lie, madam?

CLEOPATRA	O, I would thou didst,
	So half my Egypt were submerged and made
	A cistern for scaled snakes! Go, get thee hence:
	Hadst thou Narcissus in thy face, to me
	Thou wouldst appear most ugly. He is married?

Messenger	I crave your highness' pardon.

CLEOPATRA	He is married?

Messenger	Take no offence that I would not offend you:
	To punish me for what you make me do.
	Seems much unequal: he's married to Octavia.

CLEOPATRA	O, that his fault should make a knave of thee,
	That art not what thou'rt sure of! Get thee hence:
	The merchandise which thou hast brought from Rome
	Are all too dear for me: lie they upon thy hand,
	And be undone by 'em!

	[Exit Messenger]

CHARMIAN	Good your highness, patience.

CLEOPATRA	In praising Antony, I have dispraised Caesar.

CHARMIAN	Many times, madam.

CLEOPATRA	                  I am paid for't now.
	Lead me from hence:
	I faint: O Iras, Charmian! 'tis no matter.
	Go to the fellow, good Alexas; bid him
	Report the feature of Octavia, her years,
	Her inclination, let him not leave out
	The colour of her hair: bring me word quickly.

	[Exit ALEXAS]

	Let him for ever go:--let him not--Charmian,
	Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon,
	The other way's a Mars. Bid you Alexas

	[To MARDIAN]

	Bring me word how tall she is. Pity me, Charmian,
	But do not speak to me. Lead me to my chamber.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT II



SCENE VI	Near Misenum.


	[Flourish. Enter POMPEY and MENAS at one door,
	with drum and trumpet: at another, OCTAVIUS CAESAR,
	MARK ANTONY, LEPIDUS, DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS, MECAENAS,
	with Soldiers marching]

POMPEY	Your hostages I have, so have you mine;
	And we shall talk before we fight.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Most meet
	That first we come to words; and therefore have we
	Our written purposes before us sent;
	Which, if thou hast consider'd, let us know
	If 'twill tie up thy discontented sword,
	And carry back to Sicily much tall youth
	That else must perish here.

POMPEY	To you all three,
	The senators alone of this great world,
	Chief factors for the gods, I do not know
	Wherefore my father should revengers want,
	Having a son and friends; since Julius Caesar,
	Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted,
	There saw you labouring for him. What was't
	That moved pale Cassius to conspire; and what
	Made the all-honour'd, honest Roman, Brutus,
	With the arm'd rest, courtiers and beauteous freedom,
	To drench the Capitol; but that they would
	Have one man but a man? And that is it
	Hath made me rig my navy; at whose burthen
	The anger'd ocean foams; with which I meant
	To scourge the ingratitude that despiteful Rome
	Cast on my noble father.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Take your time.

MARK ANTONY	Thou canst not fear us, Pompey, with thy sails;
	We'll speak with thee at sea: at land, thou know'st
	How much we do o'er-count thee.

POMPEY	At land, indeed,
	Thou dost o'er-count me of my father's house:
	But, since the cuckoo builds not for himself,
	Remain in't as thou mayst.

LEPIDUS	Be pleased to tell us--
	For this is from the present--how you take
	The offers we have sent you.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	There's the point.

MARK ANTONY	Which do not be entreated to, but weigh
	What it is worth embraced.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	And what may follow,
	To try a larger fortune.

POMPEY	You have made me offer
	Of Sicily, Sardinia; and I must
	Rid all the sea of pirates; then, to send
	Measures of wheat to Rome; this 'greed upon
	To part with unhack'd edges, and bear back
	Our targes undinted.


OCTAVIUS CAESAR	|
	|
MARK ANTONY	|  That's our offer.
	|
LEPIDUS	|


POMPEY	Know, then,
	I came before you here a man prepared
	To take this offer: but Mark Antony
	Put me to some impatience: though I lose
	The praise of it by telling, you must know,
	When Caesar and your brother were at blows,
	Your mother came to Sicily and did find
	Her welcome friendly.

MARK ANTONY	I have heard it, Pompey;
	And am well studied for a liberal thanks
	Which I do owe you.

POMPEY	Let me have your hand:
	I did not think, sir, to have met you here.

MARK ANTONY	The beds i' the east are soft; and thanks to you,
	That call'd me timelier than my purpose hither;
	For I have gain'd by 't.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Since I saw you last,
	There is a change upon you.

POMPEY	Well, I know not
	What counts harsh fortune casts upon my face;
	But in my bosom shall she never come,
	To make my heart her vassal.

LEPIDUS	Well met here.

POMPEY	I hope so, Lepidus. Thus we are agreed:
	I crave our composition may be written,
	And seal'd between us.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	That's the next to do.

POMPEY	We'll feast each other ere we part; and let's
	Draw lots who shall begin.

MARK ANTONY	That will I, Pompey.

POMPEY	No, Antony, take the lot: but, first
	Or last, your fine Egyptian cookery
	Shall have the fame. I have heard that Julius Caesar
	Grew fat with feasting there.

MARK ANTONY	You have heard much.

POMPEY	I have fair meanings, sir.

MARK ANTONY	And fair words to them.

POMPEY	Then so much have I heard:
	And I have heard, Apollodorus carried--

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	No more of that: he did so.

POMPEY	What, I pray you?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	A certain queen to Caesar in a mattress.

POMPEY	I know thee now: how farest thou, soldier?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Well;
	And well am like to do; for, I perceive,
	Four feasts are toward.

POMPEY	Let me shake thy hand;
	I never hated thee: I have seen thee fight,
	When I have envied thy behavior.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Sir,
	I never loved you much; but I ha' praised ye,
	When you have well deserved ten times as much
	As I have said you did.

POMPEY	Enjoy thy plainness,
	It nothing ill becomes thee.
	Aboard my galley I invite you all:
	Will you lead, lords?


OCTAVIUS CAESAR	|
	|
MARK ANTONY	|  Show us the way, sir.
	|
LEPIDUS	|


POMPEY	Come.

	[Exeunt all but MENAS and ENOBARBUS]

MENAS	[Aside]  Thy father, Pompey, would ne'er have
	made this treaty.--You and I have known, sir.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	At sea, I think.

MENAS	We have, sir.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	You have done well by water.

MENAS	And you by land.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	I will praise any man that will praise me; though it
	cannot be denied what I have done by land.

MENAS	Nor what I have done by water.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Yes, something you can deny for your own
	safety: you have been a great thief by sea.

MENAS	And you by land.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	There I deny my land service. But give me your
	hand, Menas: if our eyes had authority, here they
	might take two thieves kissing.

MENAS	All men's faces are true, whatsome'er their hands are.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	But there is never a fair woman has a true face.

MENAS	No slander; they steal hearts.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	We came hither to fight with you.

MENAS	For my part, I am sorry it is turned to a drinking.
	Pompey doth this day laugh away his fortune.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	If he do, sure, he cannot weep't back again.

MENAS	You've said, sir. We looked not for Mark Antony
	here: pray you, is he married to Cleopatra?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Caesar's sister is called Octavia.

MENAS	True, sir; she was the wife of Caius Marcellus.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	But she is now the wife of Marcus Antonius.

MENAS	Pray ye, sir?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	'Tis true.

MENAS	Then is Caesar and he for ever knit together.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	If I were bound to divine of this unity, I would
	not prophesy so.

MENAS	I think the policy of that purpose made more in the
	marriage than the love of the parties.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	I think so too. But you shall find, the band that
	seems to tie their friendship together will be the
	very strangler of their amity: Octavia is of a
	holy, cold, and still conversation.

MENAS	Who would not have his wife so?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Not he that himself is not so; which is Mark Antony.
	He will to his Egyptian dish again: then shall the
	sighs of Octavia blow the fire up in Caesar; and, as
	I said before, that which is the strength of their
	amity shall prove the immediate author of their
	variance. Antony will use his affection where it is:
	he married but his occasion here.

MENAS	And thus it may be. Come, sir, will you aboard?
	I have a health for you.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	I shall take it, sir: we have used our throats in Egypt.

MENAS	Come, let's away.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT II


SCENE VII	On board POMPEY's galley, off Misenum.


	[Music plays. Enter two or three Servants with
	a banquet]

First Servant	Here they'll be, man. Some o' their plants are
	ill-rooted already: the least wind i' the world
	will blow them down.

Second Servant	Lepidus is high-coloured.

First Servant	They have made him drink alms-drink.

Second Servant	As they pinch one another by the disposition, he
	cries out 'No more;' reconciles them to his
	entreaty, and himself to the drink.

First Servant	But it raises the greater war between him and
	his discretion.

Second Servant	Why, this is to have a name in great men's
	fellowship: I had as lief have a reed that will do
	me no service as a partisan I could not heave.

First Servant	To be called into a huge sphere, and not to be seen
	to move in't, are the holes where eyes should be,
	which pitifully disaster the cheeks.

	[A sennet sounded. Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, MARK
	ANTONY, LEPIDUS, POMPEY, AGRIPPA, MECAENAS,
	DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS, MENAS, with other captains]

MARK ANTONY	[To OCTAVIUS CAESAR]  Thus do they, sir: they take
	the flow o' the Nile
	By certain scales i' the pyramid; they know,
	By the height, the lowness, or the mean, if dearth
	Or foison follow: the higher Nilus swells,
	The more it promises: as it ebbs, the seedsman
	Upon the slime and ooze scatters his grain,
	And shortly comes to harvest.

LEPIDUS	You've strange serpents there.

MARK ANTONY	Ay, Lepidus.

LEPIDUS	Your serpent of Egypt is bred now of your mud by the
	operation of your sun: so is your crocodile.

MARK ANTONY	They are so.

POMPEY	Sit,--and some wine! A health to Lepidus!

LEPIDUS	I am not so well as I should be, but I'll ne'er out.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Not till you have slept; I fear me you'll be in till then.

LEPIDUS	Nay, certainly, I have heard the Ptolemies'
	pyramises are very goodly things; without
	contradiction, I have heard that.

MENAS	[Aside to POMPEY]  Pompey, a word.

POMPEY	[Aside to MENAS]                 Say in mine ear:
	what is't?

MENAS	[Aside to POMPEY]  Forsake thy seat, I do beseech
	thee, captain,
	And hear me speak a word.

POMPEY	[Aside to MENAS]  Forbear me till anon.
	This wine for Lepidus!

LEPIDUS	What manner o' thing is your crocodile?

MARK ANTONY	It is shaped, sir, like itself; and it is as broad
	as it hath breadth: it is just so high as it is,
	and moves with its own organs: it lives by that
	which nourisheth it; and the elements once out of
	it, it transmigrates.

LEPIDUS	What colour is it of?

MARK ANTONY	Of it own colour too.

LEPIDUS	'Tis a strange serpent.

MARK ANTONY	'Tis so. And the tears of it are wet.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Will this description satisfy him?

MARK ANTONY	With the health that Pompey gives him, else he is a
	very epicure.

POMPEY	[Aside to MENAS]  Go hang, sir, hang! Tell me of
	that? away!
	Do as I bid you. Where's this cup I call'd for?

MENAS	[Aside to POMPEY]  If for the sake of merit thou
	wilt hear me,
	Rise from thy stool.

POMPEY	[Aside to MENAS]  I think thou'rt mad.
	The matter?

	[Rises, and walks aside]

MENAS	I have ever held my cap off to thy fortunes.

POMPEY	Thou hast served me with much faith. What's else to say?
	Be jolly, lords.

MARK ANTONY	                  These quick-sands, Lepidus,
	Keep off them, for you sink.

MENAS	Wilt thou be lord of all the world?

POMPEY	What say'st thou?

MENAS	Wilt thou be lord of the whole world? That's twice.

POMPEY	How should that be?

MENAS	But entertain it,
	And, though thou think me poor, I am the man
	Will give thee all the world.

POMPEY	Hast thou drunk well?

MENAS	Now, Pompey, I have kept me from the cup.
	Thou art, if thou darest be, the earthly Jove:
	Whate'er the ocean pales, or sky inclips,
	Is thine, if thou wilt ha't.

POMPEY	Show me which way.

MENAS	These three world-sharers, these competitors,
	Are in thy vessel: let me cut the cable;
	And, when we are put off, fall to their throats:
	All there is thine.

POMPEY	Ah, this thou shouldst have done,
	And not have spoke on't! In me 'tis villany;
	In thee't had been good service. Thou must know,
	'Tis not my profit that does lead mine honour;
	Mine honour, it. Repent that e'er thy tongue
	Hath so betray'd thine act: being done unknown,
	I should have found it afterwards well done;
	But must condemn it now. Desist, and drink.

MENAS	[Aside]  For this,
	I'll never follow thy pall'd fortunes more.
	Who seeks, and will not take when once 'tis offer'd,
	Shall never find it more.

POMPEY	This health to Lepidus!

MARK ANTONY	Bear him ashore. I'll pledge it for him, Pompey.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Here's to thee, Menas!

MENAS	Enobarbus, welcome!

POMPEY	Fill till the cup be hid.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	There's a strong fellow, Menas.

	[Pointing to the Attendant who carries off LEPIDUS]

MENAS	Why?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	A' bears the third part of the world, man; see'st
	not?

MENAS	The third part, then, is drunk: would it were all,
	That it might go on wheels!

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Drink thou; increase the reels.

MENAS	Come.

POMPEY	This is not yet an Alexandrian feast.

MARK ANTONY	It ripens towards it. Strike the vessels, ho?
	Here is to Caesar!

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	                  I could well forbear't.
	It's monstrous labour, when I wash my brain,
	And it grows fouler.

MARK ANTONY	Be a child o' the time.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Possess it, I'll make answer:
	But I had rather fast from all four days
	Than drink so much in one.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Ha, my brave emperor!

	[To MARK ANTONY]

	Shall we dance now the Egyptian Bacchanals,
	And celebrate our drink?

POMPEY	Let's ha't, good soldier.

MARK ANTONY	Come, let's all take hands,
	Till that the conquering wine hath steep'd our sense
	In soft and delicate Lethe.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	All take hands.
	Make battery to our ears with the loud music:
	The while I'll place you: then the boy shall sing;
	The holding every man shall bear as loud
	As his strong sides can volley.

	[Music plays. DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS places them
	hand in hand]
	THE SONG.

	Come, thou monarch of the vine,
	Plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne!
	In thy fats our cares be drown'd,
	With thy grapes our hairs be crown'd:
	Cup us, till the world go round,
	Cup us, till the world go round!

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	What would you more? Pompey, good night. Good brother,
	Let me request you off: our graver business
	Frowns at this levity. Gentle lords, let's part;
	You see we have burnt our cheeks: strong Enobarb
	Is weaker than the wine; and mine own tongue
	Splits what it speaks: the wild disguise hath almost
	Antick'd us all. What needs more words? Good night.
	Good Antony, your hand.

POMPEY	I'll try you on the shore.

MARK ANTONY	And shall, sir; give's your hand.

POMPEY	O Antony,
	You have my father's house,--But, what? we are friends.
	Come, down into the boat.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Take heed you fall not.

	[Exeunt all but DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS and MENAS]

	Menas, I'll not on shore.

MENAS	No, to my cabin.
	These drums! these trumpets, flutes! what!
	Let Neptune hear we bid a loud farewell
	To these great fellows: sound and be hang'd, sound out!

	[Sound a flourish, with drums]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Ho! says a' There's my cap.

MENAS	Ho! Noble captain, come.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III



SCENE I	A plain in Syria.


	[Enter VENTIDIUS as it were in triumph, with SILIUS,
	and other Romans, Officers, and Soldiers; the dead
	body of PACORUS borne before him]

VENTIDIUS	Now, darting Parthia, art thou struck; and now
	Pleased fortune does of Marcus Crassus' death
	Make me revenger. Bear the king's son's body
	Before our army. Thy Pacorus, Orodes,
	Pays this for Marcus Crassus.

SILIUS	Noble Ventidius,
	Whilst yet with Parthian blood thy sword is warm,
	The fugitive Parthians follow; spur through Media,
	Mesopotamia, and the shelters whither
	The routed fly: so thy grand captain Antony
	Shall set thee on triumphant chariots and
	Put garlands on thy head.

VENTIDIUS	O Silius, Silius,
	I have done enough; a lower place, note well,
	May make too great an act: for learn this, Silius;
	Better to leave undone, than by our deed
	Acquire too high a fame when him we serve's away.
	Caesar and Antony have ever won
	More in their officer than person: Sossius,
	One of my place in Syria, his lieutenant,
	For quick accumulation of renown,
	Which he achieved by the minute, lost his favour.
	Who does i' the wars more than his captain can
	Becomes his captain's captain: and ambition,
	The soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss,
	Than gain which darkens him.
	I could do more to do Antonius good,
	But 'twould offend him; and in his offence
	Should my performance perish.

SILIUS	Thou hast, Ventidius,
	that
	Without the which a soldier, and his sword,
	Grants scarce distinction. Thou wilt write to Antony!

VENTIDIUS	I'll humbly signify what in his name,
	That magical word of war, we have effected;
	How, with his banners and his well-paid ranks,
	The ne'er-yet-beaten horse of Parthia
	We have jaded out o' the field.

SILIUS	Where is he now?

VENTIDIUS	He purposeth to Athens: whither, with what haste
	The weight we must convey with's will permit,
	We shall appear before him. On there; pass along!

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III



SCENE II	Rome. An ante-chamber in OCTAVIUS CAESAR's house.


	[Enter AGRIPPA at one door, DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS
	at another]

AGRIPPA	What, are the brothers parted?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	They have dispatch'd with Pompey, he is gone;
	The other three are sealing. Octavia weeps
	To part from Rome; Caesar is sad; and Lepidus,
	Since Pompey's feast, as Menas says, is troubled
	With the green sickness.

AGRIPPA	'Tis a noble Lepidus.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	A very fine one: O, how he loves Caesar!

AGRIPPA	Nay, but how dearly he adores Mark Antony!

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Caesar? Why, he's the Jupiter of men.

AGRIPPA	What's Antony? The god of Jupiter.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Spake you of Caesar? How! the non-pareil!

AGRIPPA	O Antony! O thou Arabian bird!

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Would you praise Caesar, say 'Caesar:' go no further.

AGRIPPA	Indeed, he plied them both with excellent praises.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	But he loves Caesar best; yet he loves Antony:
	Ho! hearts, tongues, figures, scribes, bards,
	poets, cannot
	Think, speak, cast, write, sing, number, ho!
	His love to Antony. But as for Caesar,
	Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder.

AGRIPPA	Both he loves.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	They are his shards, and he their beetle.

	[Trumpets within]
			So;
	This is to horse. Adieu, noble Agrippa.

AGRIPPA	Good fortune, worthy soldier; and farewell.

	[Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, MARK ANTONY, LEPIDUS, and OCTAVIA]

MARK ANTONY	No further, sir.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	You take from me a great part of myself;
	Use me well in 't. Sister, prove such a wife
	As my thoughts make thee, and as my farthest band
	Shall pass on thy approof. Most noble Antony,
	Let not the piece of virtue, which is set
	Betwixt us as the cement of our love,
	To keep it builded, be the ram to batter
	The fortress of it; for better might we
	Have loved without this mean, if on both parts
	This be not cherish'd.

MARK ANTONY	Make me not offended
	In your distrust.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	                  I have said.

MARK ANTONY	You shall not find,
	Though you be therein curious, the least cause
	For what you seem to fear: so, the gods keep you,
	And make the hearts of Romans serve your ends!
	We will here part.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Farewell, my dearest sister, fare thee well:
	The elements be kind to thee, and make
	Thy spirits all of comfort! fare thee well.

OCTAVIA	My noble brother!

MARK ANTONY	The April 's in her eyes: it is love's spring,
	And these the showers to bring it on. Be cheerful.

OCTAVIA	Sir, look well to my husband's house; and--

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	What, Octavia?

OCTAVIA	       I'll tell you in your ear.

MARK ANTONY	Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can
	Her heart inform her tongue,--the swan's
	down-feather,
	That stands upon the swell at full of tide,
	And neither way inclines.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	[Aside to AGRIPPA]  Will Caesar weep?

AGRIPPA	[Aside to DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]  He has a cloud in 's face.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	[Aside to AGRIPPA]  He were the worse for that,
	were he a horse;
	So is he, being a man.

AGRIPPA	[Aside to DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]  Why, Enobarbus,
	When Antony found Julius Caesar dead,
	He cried almost to roaring; and he wept
	When at Philippi he found Brutus slain.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	[Aside to AGRIPPA]  That year, indeed, he was
	troubled with a rheum;
	What willingly he did confound he wail'd,
	Believe't, till I wept too.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	No, sweet Octavia,
	You shall hear from me still; the time shall not
	Out-go my thinking on you.

MARK ANTONY	Come, sir, come;
	I'll wrestle with you in my strength of love:
	Look, here I have you; thus I let you go,
	And give you to the gods.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Adieu; be happy!

LEPIDUS	Let all the number of the stars give light
	To thy fair way!

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Farewell, farewell!

	[Kisses OCTAVIA]

MARK ANTONY	Farewell!

	[Trumpets sound. Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III



SCENE III	Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace.


	[Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS]

CLEOPATRA	Where is the fellow?

ALEXAS	Half afeard to come.

CLEOPATRA	Go to, go to.

	[Enter the Messenger as before]

	Come hither, sir.

ALEXAS	Good majesty,
	Herod of Jewry dare not look upon you
	But when you are well pleased.

CLEOPATRA	That Herod's head
	I'll have: but how, when Antony is gone
	Through whom I might command it? Come thou near.

Messenger	Most gracious majesty,--

CLEOPATRA	Didst thou behold Octavia?

Messenger	Ay, dread queen.

CLEOPATRA	Where?

Messenger	Madam, in Rome;
	I look'd her in the face, and saw her led
	Between her brother and Mark Antony.

CLEOPATRA	Is she as tall as me?

Messenger	She is not, madam.

CLEOPATRA	Didst hear her speak? is she shrill-tongued or low?

Messenger	Madam, I heard her speak; she is low-voiced.

CLEOPATRA	That's not so good: he cannot like her long.

CHARMIAN	Like her! O Isis! 'tis impossible.

CLEOPATRA	I think so, Charmian: dull of tongue, and dwarfish!
	What majesty is in her gait? Remember,
	If e'er thou look'dst on majesty.

Messenger	She creeps:
	Her motion and her station are as one;
	She shows a body rather than a life,
	A statue than a breather.

CLEOPATRA	Is this certain?

Messenger	Or I have no observance.

CHARMIAN	Three in Egypt
	Cannot make better note.

CLEOPATRA	He's very knowing;
	I do perceive't: there's nothing in her yet:
	The fellow has good judgment.

CHARMIAN	Excellent.

CLEOPATRA	Guess at her years, I prithee.

Messenger	Madam,
	She was a widow,--

CLEOPATRA	                  Widow! Charmian, hark.

Messenger	And I do think she's thirty.

CLEOPATRA	Bear'st thou her face in mind? is't long or round?

Messenger	Round even to faultiness.

CLEOPATRA	For the most part, too, they are foolish that are so.
	Her hair, what colour?

Messenger	Brown, madam: and her forehead
	As low as she would wish it.

CLEOPATRA	There's gold for thee.
	Thou must not take my former sharpness ill:
	I will employ thee back again; I find thee
	Most fit for business: go make thee ready;
	Our letters are prepared.

	[Exit Messenger]

CHARMIAN	A proper man.

CLEOPATRA	Indeed, he is so: I repent me much
	That so I harried him. Why, methinks, by him,
	This creature's no such thing.

CHARMIAN	Nothing, madam.

CLEOPATRA	The man hath seen some majesty, and should know.

CHARMIAN	Hath he seen majesty? Isis else defend,
	And serving you so long!

CLEOPATRA	I have one thing more to ask him yet, good Charmian:
	But 'tis no matter; thou shalt bring him to me
	Where I will write. All may be well enough.

CHARMIAN	I warrant you, madam.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III


SCENE IV	Athens. A room in MARK ANTONY's house.


	[Enter MARK ANTONY and OCTAVIA]

MARK ANTONY	Nay, nay, Octavia, not only that,--
	That were excusable, that, and thousands more
	Of semblable import,--but he hath waged
	New wars 'gainst Pompey; made his will, and read it
	To public ear:
	Spoke scantly of me: when perforce he could not
	But pay me terms of honour, cold and sickly
	He vented them; most narrow measure lent me:
	When the best hint was given him, he not took't,
	Or did it from his teeth.

OCTAVIA	O my good lord,
	Believe not all; or, if you must believe,
	Stomach not all. A more unhappy lady,
	If this division chance, ne'er stood between,
	Praying for both parts:
	The good gods me presently,
	When I shall pray, 'O bless my lord and husband!'
	Undo that prayer, by crying out as loud,
	'O, bless my brother!' Husband win, win brother,
	Prays, and destroys the prayer; no midway
	'Twixt these extremes at all.

MARK ANTONY	Gentle Octavia,
	Let your best love draw to that point, which seeks
	Best to preserve it: if I lose mine honour,
	I lose myself: better I were not yours
	Than yours so branchless. But, as you requested,
	Yourself shall go between 's: the mean time, lady,
	I'll raise the preparation of a war
	Shall stain your brother: make your soonest haste;
	So your desires are yours.

OCTAVIA	Thanks to my lord.
	The Jove of power make me most weak, most weak,
	Your reconciler! Wars 'twixt you twain would be
	As if the world should cleave, and that slain men
	Should solder up the rift.

MARK ANTONY	When it appears to you where this begins,
	Turn your displeasure that way: for our faults
	Can never be so equal, that your love
	Can equally move with them. Provide your going;
	Choose your own company, and command what cost
	Your heart has mind to.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III



SCENE V	The same. Another room.


	[Enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS and EROS, meeting]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	How now, friend Eros!

EROS	There's strange news come, sir.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	What, man?

EROS	Caesar and Lepidus have made wars upon Pompey.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	This is old: what is the success?

EROS	Caesar, having made use of him in the wars 'gainst
	Pompey, presently denied him rivality; would not let
	him partake in the glory of the action: and not
	resting here, accuses him of letters he had formerly
	wrote to Pompey; upon his own appeal, seizes him: so
	the poor third is up, till death enlarge his confine.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Then, world, thou hast a pair of chaps, no more;
	And throw between them all the food thou hast,
	They'll grind the one the other. Where's Antony?

EROS	He's walking in the garden--thus; and spurns
	The rush that lies before him; cries, 'Fool Lepidus!'
	And threats the throat of that his officer
	That murder'd Pompey.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Our great navy's rigg'd.

EROS	For Italy and Caesar. More, Domitius;
	My lord desires you presently: my news
	I might have told hereafter.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	'Twill be naught:
	But let it be. Bring me to Antony.

EROS	Come, sir.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III



SCENE VI	Rome. OCTAVIUS CAESAR's house.


	[Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, AGRIPPA, and MECAENAS]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Contemning Rome, he has done all this, and more,
	In Alexandria: here's the manner of 't:
	I' the market-place, on a tribunal silver'd,
	Cleopatra and himself in chairs of gold
	Were publicly enthroned: at the feet sat
	Caesarion, whom they call my father's son,
	And all the unlawful issue that their lust
	Since then hath made between them. Unto her
	He gave the stablishment of Egypt; made her
	Of lower Syria, Cyprus, Lydia,
	Absolute queen.

MECAENAS	                  This in the public eye?

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	I' the common show-place, where they exercise.
	His sons he there proclaim'd the kings of kings:
	Great Media, Parthia, and Armenia.
	He gave to Alexander; to Ptolemy he assign'd
	Syria, Cilicia, and Phoenicia: she
	In the habiliments of the goddess Isis
	That day appear'd; and oft before gave audience,
	As 'tis reported, so.

MECAENAS	Let Rome be thus Inform'd.

AGRIPPA	Who, queasy with his insolence
	Already, will their good thoughts call from him.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	The people know it; and have now received
	His accusations.

AGRIPPA	                  Who does he accuse?

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Caesar: and that, having in Sicily
	Sextus Pompeius spoil'd, we had not rated him
	His part o' the isle: then does he say, he lent me
	Some shipping unrestored: lastly, he frets
	That Lepidus of the triumvirate
	Should be deposed; and, being, that we detain
	All his revenue.

AGRIPPA	                  Sir, this should be answer'd.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	'Tis done already, and the messenger gone.
	I have told him, Lepidus was grown too cruel;
	That he his high authority abused,
	And did deserve his change: for what I have conquer'd,
	I grant him part; but then, in his Armenia,
	And other of his conquer'd kingdoms, I
	Demand the like.

MECAENAS	                  He'll never yield to that.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Nor must not then be yielded to in this.

	[Enter OCTAVIA with her train]

OCTAVIA	Hail, Caesar, and my lord! hail, most dear Caesar!

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	That ever I should call thee castaway!

OCTAVIA	You have not call'd me so, nor have you cause.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Why have you stol'n upon us thus! You come not
	Like Caesar's sister: the wife of Antony
	Should have an army for an usher, and
	The neighs of horse to tell of her approach
	Long ere she did appear; the trees by the way
	Should have borne men; and expectation fainted,
	Longing for what it had not; nay, the dust
	Should have ascended to the roof of heaven,
	Raised by your populous troops: but you are come
	A market-maid to Rome; and have prevented
	The ostentation of our love, which, left unshown,
	Is often left unloved; we should have met you
	By sea and land; supplying every stage
	With an augmented greeting.

OCTAVIA	Good my lord,
	To come thus was I not constrain'd, but did
	On my free will. My lord, Mark Antony,
	Hearing that you prepared for war, acquainted
	My grieved ear withal; whereon, I begg'd
	His pardon for return.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Which soon he granted,
	Being an obstruct 'tween his lust and him.

OCTAVIA	Do not say so, my lord.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	I have eyes upon him,
	And his affairs come to me on the wind.
	Where is he now?

OCTAVIA	                  My lord, in Athens.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	No, my most wronged sister; Cleopatra
	Hath nodded him to her. He hath given his empire
	Up to a whore; who now are levying
	The kings o' the earth for war; he hath assembled
	Bocchus, the king of Libya; Archelaus,
	Of Cappadocia; Philadelphos, king
	Of Paphlagonia; the Thracian king, Adallas;
	King Malchus of Arabia; King of Pont;
	Herod of Jewry; Mithridates, king
	Of Comagene; Polemon and Amyntas,
	The kings of Mede and Lycaonia,
	With a more larger list of sceptres.

OCTAVIA	Ay me, most wretched,
	That have my heart parted betwixt two friends
	That do afflict each other!

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Welcome hither:
	Your letters did withhold our breaking forth;
	Till we perceived, both how you were wrong led,
	And we in negligent danger. Cheer your heart;
	Be you not troubled with the time, which drives
	O'er your content these strong necessities;
	But let determined things to destiny
	Hold unbewail'd their way. Welcome to Rome;
	Nothing more dear to me. You are abused
	Beyond the mark of thought: and the high gods,
	To do you justice, make them ministers
	Of us and those that love you. Best of comfort;
	And ever welcome to us.

AGRIPPA	Welcome, lady.

MECAENAS	Welcome, dear madam.
	Each heart in Rome does love and pity you:
	Only the adulterous Antony, most large
	In his abominations, turns you off;
	And gives his potent regiment to a trull,
	That noises it against us.

OCTAVIA	Is it so, sir?

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Most certain. Sister, welcome: pray you,
	Be ever known to patience: my dear'st sister!

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III



SCENE VII	Near Actium. MARK ANTONY's camp.


	[Enter CLEOPATRA and DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]

CLEOPATRA	I will be even with thee, doubt it not.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	But why, why, why?

CLEOPATRA	Thou hast forspoke my being in these wars,
	And say'st it is not fit.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Well, is it, is it?

CLEOPATRA	If not denounced against us, why should not we
	Be there in person?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	[Aside]  Well, I could reply:
	If we should serve with horse and mares together,
	The horse were merely lost; the mares would bear
	A soldier and his horse.

CLEOPATRA	What is't you say?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Your presence needs must puzzle Antony;
	Take from his heart, take from his brain,
	from's time,
	What should not then be spared. He is already
	Traduced for levity; and 'tis said in Rome
	That Photinus an eunuch and your maids
	Manage this war.

CLEOPATRA	                  Sink Rome, and their tongues rot
	That speak against us! A charge we bear i' the war,
	And, as the president of my kingdom, will
	Appear there for a man. Speak not against it:
	I will not stay behind.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Nay, I have done.
	Here comes the emperor.

	[Enter MARK ANTONY and CANIDIUS]

MARK ANTONY	Is it not strange, Canidius,
	That from Tarentum and Brundusium
	He could so quickly cut the Ionian sea,
	And take in Toryne? You have heard on't, sweet?

CLEOPATRA	Celerity is never more admired
	Than by the negligent.

MARK ANTONY	A good rebuke,
	Which might have well becomed the best of men,
	To taunt at slackness. Canidius, we
	Will fight with him by sea.

CLEOPATRA	By sea! what else?

CANIDIUS	Why will my lord do so?

MARK ANTONY	For that he dares us to't.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	So hath my lord dared him to single fight.

CANIDIUS	Ay, and to wage this battle at Pharsalia.
	Where Caesar fought with Pompey: but these offers,
	Which serve not for his vantage, be shakes off;
	And so should you.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	                  Your ships are not well mann'd;
	Your mariners are muleters, reapers, people
	Ingross'd by swift impress; in Caesar's fleet
	Are those that often have 'gainst Pompey fought:
	Their ships are yare; yours, heavy: no disgrace
	Shall fall you for refusing him at sea,
	Being prepared for land.

MARK ANTONY	By sea, by sea.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Most worthy sir, you therein throw away
	The absolute soldiership you have by land;
	Distract your army, which doth most consist
	Of war-mark'd footmen; leave unexecuted
	Your own renowned knowledge; quite forego
	The way which promises assurance; and
	Give up yourself merely to chance and hazard,
	From firm security.

MARK ANTONY	I'll fight at sea.

CLEOPATRA	I have sixty sails, Caesar none better.

MARK ANTONY	Our overplus of shipping will we burn;
	And, with the rest full-mann'd, from the head of Actium
	Beat the approaching Caesar. But if we fail,
	We then can do't at land.

	[Enter a Messenger]

		    Thy business?

Messenger	The news is true, my lord; he is descried;
	Caesar has taken Toryne.

MARK ANTONY	Can he be there in person? 'tis impossible;
	Strange that power should be. Canidius,
	Our nineteen legions thou shalt hold by land,
	And our twelve thousand horse. We'll to our ship:
	Away, my Thetis!

	[Enter a Soldier]

	How now, worthy soldier?

Soldier	O noble emperor, do not fight by sea;
	Trust not to rotten planks: do you misdoubt
	This sword and these my wounds? Let the Egyptians
	And the Phoenicians go a-ducking; we
	Have used to conquer, standing on the earth,
	And fighting foot to foot.

MARK ANTONY	Well, well: away!

	[Exeunt MARK ANTONY, QUEEN CLEOPATRA, and DOMITIUS
	ENOBARBUS]

Soldier	By Hercules, I think I am i' the right.

CANIDIUS	Soldier, thou art: but his whole action grows
	Not in the power on't: so our leader's led,
	And we are women's men.

Soldier	You keep by land
	The legions and the horse whole, do you not?

CANIDIUS	Marcus Octavius, Marcus Justeius,
	Publicola, and Caelius, are for sea:
	But we keep whole by land. This speed of Caesar's
	Carries beyond belief.

Soldier	While he was yet in Rome,
	His power went out in such distractions as
	Beguiled all spies.

CANIDIUS	Who's his lieutenant, hear you?

Soldier	They say, one Taurus.

CANIDIUS	Well I know the man.

	[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger	The emperor calls Canidius.

CANIDIUS	With news the time's with labour, and throes forth,
	Each minute, some.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III



SCENE VIII	A plain near Actium.


	[Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, and TAURUS, with his army, marching]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Taurus!

TAURUS	My lord?

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Strike not by land; keep whole: provoke not battle,
	Till we have done at sea. Do not exceed
	The prescript of this scroll: our fortune lies
	Upon this jump.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III



SCENE IX	Another part of the plain.


	[Enter MARK ANTONY and DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]

MARK ANTONY	Set we our squadrons on yond side o' the hill,
	In eye of Caesar's battle; from which place
	We may the number of the ships behold,
	And so proceed accordingly.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III


SCENE X	Another part of the plain.


	[CANIDIUS marcheth with his land army one way over
	the stage; and TAURUS, the lieutenant of OCTAVIUS
	CAESAR, the other way. After their going in, is
	heard the noise of a sea-fight]

	[Alarum. Enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Naught, naught all, naught! I can behold no longer:
	The Antoniad, the Egyptian admiral,
	With all their sixty, fly and turn the rudder:
	To see't mine eyes are blasted.

	[Enter SCARUS]

SCARUS	Gods and goddesses,
	All the whole synod of them!

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	What's thy passion!

SCARUS	The greater cantle of the world is lost
	With very ignorance; we have kiss'd away
	Kingdoms and provinces.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	How appears the fight?

SCARUS	On our side like the token'd pestilence,
	Where death is sure. Yon ribaudred nag of Egypt,--
	Whom leprosy o'ertake!--i' the midst o' the fight,
	When vantage like a pair of twins appear'd,
	Both as the same, or rather ours the elder,
	The breese upon her, like a cow in June,
	Hoists sails and flies.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	That I beheld:
	Mine eyes did sicken at the sight, and could not
	Endure a further view.

SCARUS	She once being loof'd,
	The noble ruin of her magic, Antony,
	Claps on his sea-wing, and, like a doting mallard,
	Leaving the fight in height, flies after her:
	I never saw an action of such shame;
	Experience, manhood, honour, ne'er before
	Did violate so itself.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Alack, alack!

	[Enter CANIDIUS]

CANIDIUS	Our fortune on the sea is out of breath,
	And sinks most lamentably. Had our general
	Been what he knew himself, it had gone well:
	O, he has given example for our flight,
	Most grossly, by his own!

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Ay, are you thereabouts?
	Why, then, good night indeed.

CANIDIUS	Toward Peloponnesus are they fled.

SCARUS	'Tis easy to't; and there I will attend
	What further comes.

CANIDIUS	To Caesar will I render
	My legions and my horse: six kings already
	Show me the way of yielding.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	I'll yet follow
	The wounded chance of Antony, though my reason
	Sits in the wind against me.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III



SCENE XI	Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace.


	[Enter MARK ANTONY with Attendants]

MARK ANTONY	Hark! the land bids me tread no more upon't;
	It is ashamed to bear me! Friends, come hither:
	I am so lated in the world, that I
	Have lost my way for ever: I have a ship
	Laden with gold; take that, divide it; fly,
	And make your peace with Caesar.

All	Fly! not we.

MARK ANTONY	I have fled myself; and have instructed cowards
	To run and show their shoulders. Friends, be gone;
	I have myself resolved upon a course
	Which has no need of you; be gone:
	My treasure's in the harbour, take it. O,
	I follow'd that I blush to look upon:
	My very hairs do mutiny; for the white
	Reprove the brown for rashness, and they them
	For fear and doting. Friends, be gone: you shall
	Have letters from me to some friends that will
	Sweep your way for you. Pray you, look not sad,
	Nor make replies of loathness: take the hint
	Which my despair proclaims; let that be left
	Which leaves itself: to the sea-side straightway:
	I will possess you of that ship and treasure.
	Leave me, I pray, a little: pray you now:
	Nay, do so; for, indeed, I have lost command,
	Therefore I pray you: I'll see you by and by.

	[Sits down]

	[Enter CLEOPATRA led by CHARMIAN and IRAS; EROS
	following]

EROS	Nay, gentle madam, to him, comfort him.

IRAS	Do, most dear queen.

CHARMIAN	Do! why: what else?

CLEOPATRA	Let me sit down. O Juno!

MARK ANTONY	No, no, no, no, no.

EROS	See you here, sir?

MARK ANTONY	O fie, fie, fie!

CHARMIAN	Madam!

IRAS	Madam, O good empress!

EROS	Sir, sir,--

MARK ANTONY	Yes, my lord, yes; he at Philippi kept
	His sword e'en like a dancer; while I struck
	The lean and wrinkled Cassius; and 'twas I
	That the mad Brutus ended: he alone
	Dealt on lieutenantry, and no practise had
	In the brave squares of war: yet now--No matter.

CLEOPATRA	Ah, stand by.

EROS	The queen, my lord, the queen.

IRAS	Go to him, madam, speak to him:
	He is unqualitied with very shame.

CLEOPATRA	Well then, sustain him: O!

EROS	Most noble sir, arise; the queen approaches:
	Her head's declined, and death will seize her, but
	Your comfort makes the rescue.

MARK ANTONY	I have offended reputation,
	A most unnoble swerving.

EROS	Sir, the queen.

MARK ANTONY	O, whither hast thou led me, Egypt? See,
	How I convey my shame out of thine eyes
	By looking back what I have left behind
	'Stroy'd in dishonour.

CLEOPATRA	O my lord, my lord,
	Forgive my fearful sails! I little thought
	You would have follow'd.

MARK ANTONY	Egypt, thou knew'st too well
	My heart was to thy rudder tied by the strings,
	And thou shouldst tow me after: o'er my spirit
	Thy full supremacy thou knew'st, and that
	Thy beck might from the bidding of the gods
	Command me.

CLEOPATRA	          O, my pardon!

MARK ANTONY	Now I must
	To the young man send humble treaties, dodge
	And palter in the shifts of lowness; who
	With half the bulk o' the world play'd as I pleased,
	Making and marring fortunes. You did know
	How much you were my conqueror; and that
	My sword, made weak by my affection, would
	Obey it on all cause.

CLEOPATRA	Pardon, pardon!

MARK ANTONY	Fall not a tear, I say; one of them rates
	All that is won and lost: give me a kiss;
	Even this repays me. We sent our schoolmaster;
	Is he come back? Love, I am full of lead.
	Some wine, within there, and our viands! Fortune knows
	We scorn her most when most she offers blows.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III



SCENE XII	Egypt. OCTAVIUS CAESAR's camp.


	[Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, DOLABELLA, THYREUS, with others]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Let him appear that's come from Antony.
	Know you him?

DOLABELLA	                  Caesar, 'tis his schoolmaster:
	An argument that he is pluck'd, when hither
	He sends so poor a pinion off his wing,
	Which had superfluous kings for messengers
	Not many moons gone by.

	[Enter EUPHRONIUS, ambassador from MARK ANTONY]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Approach, and speak.

EUPHRONIUS	Such as I am, I come from Antony:
	I was of late as petty to his ends
	As is the morn-dew on the myrtle-leaf
	To his grand sea.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	                  Be't so: declare thine office.

EUPHRONIUS	Lord of his fortunes he salutes thee, and
	Requires to live in Egypt: which not granted,
	He lessens his requests; and to thee sues
	To let him breathe between the heavens and earth,
	A private man in Athens: this for him.
	Next, Cleopatra does confess thy greatness;
	Submits her to thy might; and of thee craves
	The circle of the Ptolemies for her heirs,
	Now hazarded to thy grace.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	For Antony,
	I have no ears to his request. The queen
	Of audience nor desire shall fail, so she
	From Egypt drive her all-disgraced friend,
	Or take his life there: this if she perform,
	She shall not sue unheard. So to them both.

EUPHRONIUS	Fortune pursue thee!

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Bring him through the bands.

	[Exit EUPHRONIUS]

	[To THYREUS]  To try eloquence, now 'tis time: dispatch;
	From Antony win Cleopatra: promise,
	And in our name, what she requires; add more,
	From thine invention, offers: women are not
	In their best fortunes strong; but want will perjure
	The ne'er touch'd vestal: try thy cunning, Thyreus;
	Make thine own edict for thy pains, which we
	Will answer as a law.

THYREUS	Caesar, I go.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Observe how Antony becomes his flaw,
	And what thou think'st his very action speaks
	In every power that moves.

THYREUS	Caesar, I shall.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III



SCENE XIII	Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace.


	[Enter CLEOPATRA, DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS, CHARMIAN, and IRAS]

CLEOPATRA	What shall we do, Enobarbus?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Think, and die.

CLEOPATRA	Is Antony or we in fault for this?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Antony only, that would make his will
	Lord of his reason. What though you fled
	From that great face of war, whose several ranges
	Frighted each other? why should he follow?
	The itch of his affection should not then
	Have nick'd his captainship; at such a point,
	When half to half the world opposed, he being
	The meered question: 'twas a shame no less
	Than was his loss, to course your flying flags,
	And leave his navy gazing.

CLEOPATRA	Prithee, peace.

	[Enter MARK ANTONY with EUPHRONIUS, the Ambassador]

MARK ANTONY	Is that his answer?

EUPHRONIUS	Ay, my lord.

MARK ANTONY	The queen shall then have courtesy, so she
	Will yield us up.

EUPHRONIUS	                  He says so.

MARK ANTONY	Let her know't.
	To the boy Caesar send this grizzled head,
	And he will fill thy wishes to the brim
	With principalities.

CLEOPATRA	That head, my lord?

MARK ANTONY	To him again: tell him he wears the rose
	Of youth upon him; from which the world should note
	Something particular: his coin, ships, legions,
	May be a coward's; whose ministers would prevail
	Under the service of a child as soon
	As i' the command of Caesar: I dare him therefore
	To lay his gay comparisons apart,
	And answer me declined, sword against sword,
	Ourselves alone. I'll write it: follow me.

	[Exeunt MARK ANTONY and EUPHRONIUS]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	[Aside]  Yes, like enough, high-battled Caesar will
	Unstate his happiness, and be staged to the show,
	Against a sworder! I see men's judgments are
	A parcel of their fortunes; and things outward
	Do draw the inward quality after them,
	To suffer all alike. That he should dream,
	Knowing all measures, the full Caesar will
	Answer his emptiness! Caesar, thou hast subdued
	His judgment too.

	[Enter an Attendant]

Attendant	                  A messenger from CAESAR.

CLEOPATRA	What, no more ceremony? See, my women!
	Against the blown rose may they stop their nose
	That kneel'd unto the buds. Admit him, sir.

	[Exit Attendant]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	[Aside]  Mine honesty and I begin to square.
	The loyalty well held to fools does make
	Our faith mere folly: yet he that can endure
	To follow with allegiance a fall'n lord
	Does conquer him that did his master conquer
	And earns a place i' the story.

	[Enter THYREUS]

CLEOPATRA	Caesar's will?

THYREUS	Hear it apart.

CLEOPATRA	                  None but friends: say boldly.

THYREUS	So, haply, are they friends to Antony.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	He needs as many, sir, as Caesar has;
	Or needs not us. If Caesar please, our master
	Will leap to be his friend: for us, you know,
	Whose he is we are, and that is, Caesar's.

THYREUS	So.
	Thus then, thou most renown'd: Caesar entreats,
	Not to consider in what case thou stand'st,
	Further than he is Caesar.

CLEOPATRA	Go on: right royal.

THYREUS	He knows that you embrace not Antony
	As you did love, but as you fear'd him.

CLEOPATRA	O!

THYREUS	The scars upon your honour, therefore, he
	Does pity, as constrained blemishes,
	Not as deserved.

CLEOPATRA	                  He is a god, and knows
	What is most right: mine honour was not yielded,
	But conquer'd merely.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	[Aside]             To be sure of that,
	I will ask Antony. Sir, sir, thou art so leaky,
	That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for
	Thy dearest quit thee.

	[Exit]

THYREUS	Shall I say to Caesar
	What you require of him? for he partly begs
	To be desired to give. It much would please him,
	That of his fortunes you should make a staff
	To lean upon: but it would warm his spirits,
	To hear from me you had left Antony,
	And put yourself under his shrowd,
	The universal landlord.

CLEOPATRA	What's your name?

THYREUS	My name is Thyreus.

CLEOPATRA	Most kind messenger,
	Say to great Caesar this: in deputation
	I kiss his conquering hand: tell him, I am prompt
	To lay my crown at 's feet, and there to kneel:
	Tell him from his all-obeying breath I hear
	The doom of Egypt.

THYREUS	'Tis your noblest course.
	Wisdom and fortune combating together,
	If that the former dare but what it can,
	No chance may shake it. Give me grace to lay
	My duty on your hand.

CLEOPATRA	Your Caesar's father oft,
	When he hath mused of taking kingdoms in,
	Bestow'd his lips on that unworthy place,
	As it rain'd kisses.

	[Re-enter MARK ANTONY and DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]

MARK ANTONY	Favours, by Jove that thunders!
	What art thou, fellow?

THYREUS	One that but performs
	The bidding of the fullest man, and worthiest
	To have command obey'd.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	[Aside]               You will be whipp'd.

MARK ANTONY	Approach, there! Ah, you kite! Now, gods
	and devils!
	Authority melts from me: of late, when I cried 'Ho!'
	Like boys unto a muss, kings would start forth,
	And cry 'Your will?' Have you no ears? I am
	Antony yet.

	[Enter Attendants]

	Take hence this Jack, and whip him.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	[Aside]  'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp
	Than with an old one dying.

MARK ANTONY	Moon and stars!
	Whip him. Were't twenty of the greatest tributaries
	That do acknowledge Caesar, should I find them
	So saucy with the hand of she here,--what's her name,
	Since she was Cleopatra? Whip him, fellows,
	Till, like a boy, you see him cringe his face,
	And whine aloud for mercy: take him hence.

THYREUS	Mark Antony!


MARK ANTONY	                  Tug him away: being whipp'd,
	Bring him again: this Jack of Caesar's shall
	Bear us an errand to him.

	[Exeunt Attendants with THYREUS]

	You were half blasted ere I knew you: ha!
	Have I my pillow left unpress'd in Rome,
	Forborne the getting of a lawful race,
	And by a gem of women, to be abused
	By one that looks on feeders?

CLEOPATRA	Good my lord,--

MARK ANTONY	You have been a boggler ever:
	But when we in our viciousness grow hard--
	O misery on't!--the wise gods seel our eyes;
	In our own filth drop our clear judgments; make us
	Adore our errors; laugh at's, while we strut
	To our confusion.

CLEOPATRA	                  O, is't come to this?

MARK ANTONY	I found you as a morsel cold upon
	Dead Caesar's trencher; nay, you were a fragment
	Of Cneius Pompey's; besides what hotter hours,
	Unregister'd in vulgar fame, you have
	Luxuriously pick'd out: for, I am sure,
	Though you can guess what temperance should be,
	You know not what it is.

CLEOPATRA	Wherefore is this?

MARK ANTONY	To let a fellow that will take rewards
	And say 'God quit you!' be familiar with
	My playfellow, your hand; this kingly seal
	And plighter of high hearts! O, that I were
	Upon the hill of Basan, to outroar
	The horned herd! for I have savage cause;
	And to proclaim it civilly, were like
	A halter'd neck which does the hangman thank
	For being yare about him.

	[Re-enter Attendants with THYREUS]

		    Is he whipp'd?

First Attendant	Soundly, my lord.

MARK ANTONY	                  Cried he? and begg'd a' pardon?

First Attendant	He did ask favour.

MARK ANTONY	If that thy father live, let him repent
	Thou wast not made his daughter; and be thou sorry
	To follow Caesar in his triumph, since
	Thou hast been whipp'd for following him: henceforth
	The white hand of a lady fever thee,
	Shake thou to look on 't. Get thee back to Caesar,
	Tell him thy entertainment: look, thou say
	He makes me angry with him; for he seems
	Proud and disdainful, harping on what I am,
	Not what he knew I was: he makes me angry;
	And at this time most easy 'tis to do't,
	When my good stars, that were my former guides,
	Have empty left their orbs, and shot their fires
	Into the abysm of hell. If he mislike
	My speech and what is done, tell him he has
	Hipparchus, my enfranched bondman, whom
	He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture,
	As he shall like, to quit me: urge it thou:
	Hence with thy stripes, begone!

	[Exit THYREUS]

CLEOPATRA	Have you done yet?

MARK ANTONY	                  Alack, our terrene moon
	Is now eclipsed; and it portends alone
	The fall of Antony!

CLEOPATRA	I must stay his time.

MARK ANTONY	To flatter Caesar, would you mingle eyes
	With one that ties his points?

CLEOPATRA	Not know me yet?

MARK ANTONY	Cold-hearted toward me?

CLEOPATRA	Ah, dear, if I be so,
	From my cold heart let heaven engender hail,
	And poison it in the source; and the first stone
	Drop in my neck: as it determines, so
	Dissolve my life! The next Caesarion smite!
	Till by degrees the memory of my womb,
	Together with my brave Egyptians all,
	By the discandying of this pelleted storm,
	Lie graveless, till the flies and gnats of Nile
	Have buried them for prey!

MARK ANTONY	I am satisfied.
	Caesar sits down in Alexandria; where
	I will oppose his fate. Our force by land
	Hath nobly held; our sever'd navy too
	Have knit again, and fleet, threatening most sea-like.
	Where hast thou been, my heart? Dost thou hear, lady?
	If from the field I shall return once more
	To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood;
	I and my sword will earn our chronicle:
	There's hope in't yet.

CLEOPATRA	That's my brave lord!

MARK ANTONY	I will be treble-sinew'd, hearted, breathed,
	And fight maliciously: for when mine hours
	Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives
	Of me for jests; but now I'll set my teeth,
	And send to darkness all that stop me. Come,
	Let's have one other gaudy night: call to me
	All my sad captains; fill our bowls once more;
	Let's mock the midnight bell.

CLEOPATRA	It is my birth-day:
	I had thought to have held it poor: but, since my lord
	Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra.

MARK ANTONY	We will yet do well.

CLEOPATRA	Call all his noble captains to my lord.

MARK ANTONY	Do so, we'll speak to them; and to-night I'll force
	The wine peep through their scars. Come on, my queen;
	There's sap in't yet. The next time I do fight,
	I'll make death love me; for I will contend
	Even with his pestilent scythe.

	[Exeunt all but DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Now he'll outstare the lightning. To be furious,
	Is to be frighted out of fear; and in that mood
	The dove will peck the estridge; and I see still,
	A diminution in our captain's brain
	Restores his heart: when valour preys on reason,
	It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek
	Some way to leave him.

	[Exit]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE I	Before Alexandria. OCTAVIUS CAESAR's camp.


	[Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, AGRIPPA, and MECAENAS, with
	his Army; OCTAVIUS CAESAR reading a letter]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	He calls me boy; and chides, as he had power
	To beat me out of Egypt; my messenger
	He hath whipp'd with rods; dares me to personal combat,
	Caesar to Antony: let the old ruffian know
	I have many other ways to die; meantime
	Laugh at his challenge.

MECAENAS	Caesar must think,
	When one so great begins to rage, he's hunted
	Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now
	Make boot of his distraction: never anger
	Made good guard for itself.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Let our best heads
	Know, that to-morrow the last of many battles
	We mean to fight: within our files there are,
	Of those that served Mark Antony but late,
	Enough to fetch him in. See it done:
	And feast the army; we have store to do't,
	And they have earn'd the waste. Poor Antony!

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE II	Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace.


	[Enter MARK ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS,
	CHARMIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, with others]

MARK ANTONY	He will not fight with me, Domitius.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	No.

MARK ANTONY	Why should he not?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	He thinks, being twenty times of better fortune,
	He is twenty men to one.

MARK ANTONY	To-morrow, soldier,
	By sea and land I'll fight: or I will live,
	Or bathe my dying honour in the blood
	Shall make it live again. Woo't thou fight well?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	I'll strike, and cry 'Take all.'

MARK ANTONY	Well said; come on.
	Call forth my household servants: let's to-night
	Be bounteous at our meal.

	[Enter three or four Servitors]

		    Give me thy hand,
	Thou hast been rightly honest;--so hast thou;--
	Thou,--and thou,--and thou:--you have served me well,
	And kings have been your fellows.

CLEOPATRA	[Aside to DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]  What means this?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	[Aside to CLEOPATRA]  'Tis one of those odd
	tricks which sorrow shoots
	Out of the mind.

MARK ANTONY	                  And thou art honest too.
	I wish I could be made so many men,
	And all of you clapp'd up together in
	An Antony, that I might do you service
	So good as you have done.

All	The gods forbid!

MARK ANTONY	Well, my good fellows, wait on me to-night:
	Scant not my cups; and make as much of me
	As when mine empire was your fellow too,
	And suffer'd my command.

CLEOPATRA	[Aside to DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]  What does he mean?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	[Aside to CLEOPATRA]  To make his followers weep.

MARK ANTONY	Tend me to-night;
	May be it is the period of your duty:
	Haply you shall not see me more; or if,
	A mangled shadow: perchance to-morrow
	You'll serve another master. I look on you
	As one that takes his leave. Mine honest friends,
	I turn you not away; but, like a master
	Married to your good service, stay till death:
	Tend me to-night two hours, I ask no more,
	And the gods yield you for't!

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	What mean you, sir,
	To give them this discomfort? Look, they weep;
	And I, an ass, am onion-eyed: for shame,
	Transform us not to women.

MARK ANTONY	Ho, ho, ho!
	Now the witch take me, if I meant it thus!
	Grace grow where those drops fall!
	My hearty friends,
	You take me in too dolorous a sense;
	For I spake to you for your comfort; did desire you
	To burn this night with torches: know, my hearts,
	I hope well of to-morrow; and will lead you
	Where rather I'll expect victorious life
	Than death and honour. Let's to supper, come,
	And drown consideration.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE III	The same. Before the palace.


	[Enter two Soldiers to their guard]

First Soldier	Brother, good night: to-morrow is the day.

Second Soldier	It will determine one way: fare you well.
	Heard you of nothing strange about the streets?

First Soldier	Nothing. What news?

Second Soldier	Belike 'tis but a rumour. Good night to you.

First Soldier	Well, sir, good night.

	[Enter two other Soldiers]

Second Soldier	Soldiers, have careful watch.

Third Soldier	And you. Good night, good night.

	[They place themselves in every corner of the stage]

Fourth Soldier	Here we: and if to-morrow
	Our navy thrive, I have an absolute hope
	Our landmen will stand up.

Third Soldier	'Tis a brave army,
	And full of purpose.

	[Music of the hautboys as under the stage]

Fourth Soldier	Peace! what noise?

First Soldier	List, list!

Second Soldier	Hark!

First Soldier	    Music i' the air.

Third Soldier	Under the earth.

Fourth Soldier	It signs well, does it not?

Third Soldier	No.

First Soldier	Peace, I say!
	What should this mean?

Second Soldier	'Tis the god Hercules, whom Antony loved,
	Now leaves him.

First Soldier	Walk; let's see if other watchmen
	Do hear what we do?

	[They advance to another post]

Second Soldier	How now, masters!

All	[Speaking together]  How now!
	How now! do you hear this?

First Soldier	Ay; is't not strange?

Third Soldier	Do you hear, masters? do you hear?

First Soldier	Follow the noise so far as we have quarter;
	Let's see how it will give off.

All	Content. 'Tis strange.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE IV	The same. A room in the palace.


	[Enter MARK ANTONY and CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, and
	others attending]

MARK ANTONY	Eros! mine armour, Eros!

CLEOPATRA	Sleep a little.

MARK ANTONY	No, my chuck. Eros, come; mine armour, Eros!

	[Enter EROS with armour]

	Come good fellow, put mine iron on:
	If fortune be not ours to-day, it is
	Because we brave her: come.

CLEOPATRA	Nay, I'll help too.
	What's this for?

MARK ANTONY	                  Ah, let be, let be! thou art
	The armourer of my heart: false, false; this, this.

CLEOPATRA	Sooth, la, I'll help: thus it must be.

MARK ANTONY	Well, well;
	We shall thrive now. Seest thou, my good fellow?
	Go put on thy defences.

EROS	Briefly, sir.

CLEOPATRA	Is not this buckled well?

MARK ANTONY	Rarely, rarely:
	He that unbuckles this, till we do please
	To daff't for our repose, shall hear a storm.
	Thou fumblest, Eros; and my queen's a squire
	More tight at this than thou: dispatch. O love,
	That thou couldst see my wars to-day, and knew'st
	The royal occupation! thou shouldst see
	A workman in't.

	[Enter an armed Soldier]

	Good morrow to thee; welcome:
	Thou look'st like him that knows a warlike charge:
	To business that we love we rise betime,
	And go to't with delight.

Soldier	A thousand, sir,
	Early though't be, have on their riveted trim,
	And at the port expect you.

	[Shout. Trumpets flourish]

	[Enter Captains and Soldiers]

Captain	The morn is fair. Good morrow, general.

All	Good morrow, general.

MARK ANTONY	'Tis well blown, lads:
	This morning, like the spirit of a youth
	That means to be of note, begins betimes.
	So, so; come, give me that: this way; well said.
	Fare thee well, dame, whate'er becomes of me:
	This is a soldier's kiss: rebukeable

	[Kisses her]

	And worthy shameful cheque it were, to stand
	On more mechanic compliment; I'll leave thee
	Now, like a man of steel. You that will fight,
	Follow me close; I'll bring you to't. Adieu.

	[Exeunt MARK ANTONY, EROS, Captains, and Soldiers]

CHARMIAN	Please you, retire to your chamber.

CLEOPATRA	Lead me.
	He goes forth gallantly. That he and Caesar might
	Determine this great war in single fight!
	Then Antony,--but now--Well, on.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE V	Alexandria. MARK ANTONY's camp.


	[Trumpets sound. Enter MARK ANTONY and EROS; a
	Soldier meeting them]

Soldier	The gods make this a happy day to Antony!

MARK ANTONY	Would thou and those thy scars had once prevail'd
	To make me fight at land!

Soldier	Hadst thou done so,
	The kings that have revolted, and the soldier
	That has this morning left thee, would have still
	Follow'd thy heels.

MARK ANTONY	Who's gone this morning?

Soldier	Who!
	One ever near thee: call for Enobarbus,
	He shall not hear thee; or from Caesar's camp
	Say 'I am none of thine.'

MARK ANTONY	What say'st thou?

Soldier	Sir,
	He is with Caesar.

EROS	                  Sir, his chests and treasure
	He has not with him.

MARK ANTONY	Is he gone?

Soldier	Most certain.

MARK ANTONY	Go, Eros, send his treasure after; do it;
	Detain no jot, I charge thee: write to him--
	I will subscribe--gentle adieus and greetings;
	Say that I wish he never find more cause
	To change a master. O, my fortunes have
	Corrupted honest men! Dispatch.--Enobarbus!

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE VI	Alexandria. OCTAVIUS CAESAR's camp.


	[Flourish. Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, AGRIPPA, with
	DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS, and others]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Go forth, Agrippa, and begin the fight:
	Our will is Antony be took alive;
	Make it so known.

AGRIPPA	Caesar, I shall.

	[Exit]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	The time of universal peace is near:
	Prove this a prosperous day, the three-nook'd world
	Shall bear the olive freely.

	[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger	Antony
	Is come into the field.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Go charge Agrippa
	Plant those that have revolted in the van,
	That Antony may seem to spend his fury
	Upon himself.

	[Exeunt all but DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Alexas did revolt; and went to Jewry on
	Affairs of Antony; there did persuade
	Great Herod to incline himself to Caesar,
	And leave his master Antony: for this pains
	Caesar hath hang'd him. Canidius and the rest
	That fell away have entertainment, but
	No honourable trust. I have done ill;
	Of which I do accuse myself so sorely,
	That I will joy no more.

	[Enter a Soldier of CAESAR's]

Soldier	Enobarbus, Antony
	Hath after thee sent all thy treasure, with
	His bounty overplus: the messenger
	Came on my guard; and at thy tent is now
	Unloading of his mules.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	I give it you.

Soldier	Mock not, Enobarbus.
	I tell you true: best you safed the bringer
	Out of the host; I must attend mine office,
	Or would have done't myself. Your emperor
	Continues still a Jove.

	[Exit]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	I am alone the villain of the earth,
	And feel I am so most. O Antony,
	Thou mine of bounty, how wouldst thou have paid
	My better service, when my turpitude
	Thou dost so crown with gold! This blows my heart:
	If swift thought break it not, a swifter mean
	Shall outstrike thought: but thought will do't, I feel.
	I fight against thee! No: I will go seek
	Some ditch wherein to die; the foul'st best fits
	My latter part of life.

	[Exit]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE VII	Field of battle between the camps.


	[Alarum. Drums and trumpets. Enter AGRIPPA
	and others]

AGRIPPA	Retire, we have engaged ourselves too far:
	Caesar himself has work, and our oppression
	Exceeds what we expected.

	[Exeunt]

	[Alarums. Enter MARK ANTONY and SCARUS wounded]

SCARUS	O my brave emperor, this is fought indeed!
	Had we done so at first, we had droven them home
	With clouts about their heads.

MARK ANTONY	Thou bleed'st apace.

SCARUS	I had a wound here that was like a T,
	But now 'tis made an H.

MARK ANTONY	They do retire.

SCARUS	We'll beat 'em into bench-holes: I have yet
	Room for six scotches more.

	[Enter EROS]

EROS	They are beaten, sir, and our advantage serves
	For a fair victory.

SCARUS	Let us score their backs,
	And snatch 'em up, as we take hares, behind:
	'Tis sport to maul a runner.

MARK ANTONY	I will reward thee
	Once for thy spritely comfort, and ten-fold
	For thy good valour. Come thee on.

SCARUS	I'll halt after.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE VIII	Under the walls of Alexandria.


	[Alarum. Enter MARK ANTONY, in a march; SCARUS,
	with others]

MARK ANTONY	We have beat him to his camp: run one before,
	And let the queen know of our gests. To-morrow,
	Before the sun shall see 's, we'll spill the blood
	That has to-day escaped. I thank you all;
	For doughty-handed are you, and have fought
	Not as you served the cause, but as 't had been
	Each man's like mine; you have shown all Hectors.
	Enter the city, clip your wives, your friends,
	Tell them your feats; whilst they with joyful tears
	Wash the congealment from your wounds, and kiss
	The honour'd gashes whole.

	[To SCARUS]

		    Give me thy hand

	[Enter CLEOPATRA, attended]

	To this great fairy I'll commend thy acts,
	Make her thanks bless thee.

	[To CLEOPATRA]

		      O thou day o' the world,
	Chain mine arm'd neck; leap thou, attire and all,
	Through proof of harness to my heart, and there
	Ride on the pants triumphing!

CLEOPATRA	Lord of lords!
	O infinite virtue, comest thou smiling from
	The world's great snare uncaught?

MARK ANTONY	My nightingale,
	We have beat them to their beds. What, girl!
	though grey
	Do something mingle with our younger brown, yet ha' we
	A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can
	Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man;
	Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand:
	Kiss it, my warrior: he hath fought to-day
	As if a god, in hate of mankind, had
	Destroy'd in such a shape.

CLEOPATRA	I'll give thee, friend,
	An armour all of gold; it was a king's.

MARK ANTONY	He has deserved it, were it carbuncled
	Like holy Phoebus' car. Give me thy hand:
	Through Alexandria make a jolly march;
	Bear our hack'd targets like the men that owe them:
	Had our great palace the capacity
	To camp this host, we all would sup together,
	And drink carouses to the next day's fate,
	Which promises royal peril. Trumpeters,
	With brazen din blast you the city's ear;
	Make mingle with rattling tabourines;
	That heaven and earth may strike their sounds together,
	Applauding our approach.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE IX	OCTAVIUS CAESAR's camp.


	[Sentinels at their post]

First Soldier	If we be not relieved within this hour,
	We must return to the court of guard: the night
	Is shiny; and they say we shall embattle
	By the second hour i' the morn.

Second Soldier	This last day was
	A shrewd one to's.

	[Enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	                  O, bear me witness, night,--

Third Soldier	What man is this?

Second Soldier	                  Stand close, and list him.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	Be witness to me, O thou blessed moon,
	When men revolted shall upon record
	Bear hateful memory, poor Enobarbus did
	Before thy face repent!

First Soldier	Enobarbus!

Third Soldier	Peace!
	Hark further.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS	O sovereign mistress of true melancholy,
	The poisonous damp of night disponge upon me,
	That life, a very rebel to my will,
	May hang no longer on me: throw my heart
	Against the flint and hardness of my fault:
	Which, being dried with grief, will break to powder,
	And finish all foul thoughts. O Antony,
	Nobler than my revolt is infamous,
	Forgive me in thine own particular;
	But let the world rank me in register
	A master-leaver and a fugitive:
	O Antony! O Antony!

	[Dies]

Second Soldier	Let's speak To him.

First Soldier	Let's hear him, for the things he speaks
	May concern Caesar.

Third Soldier	Let's do so. But he sleeps.

First Soldier	Swoons rather; for so bad a prayer as his
	Was never yet for sleep.

Second Soldier	Go we to him.

Third Soldier	Awake, sir, awake; speak to us.

Second Soldier	Hear you, sir?

First Soldier	The hand of death hath raught him.

	[Drums afar off]

		                  Hark! the drums
	Demurely wake the sleepers. Let us bear him
	To the court of guard; he is of note: our hour
	Is fully out.

Third Soldier	Come on, then;
	He may recover yet.

	[Exeunt with the body]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE X	Between the two camps.


	[Enter MARK ANTONY and SCARUS, with their Army]

MARK ANTONY	Their preparation is to-day by sea;
	We please them not by land.

SCARUS	For both, my lord.

MARK ANTONY	I would they'ld fight i' the fire or i' the air;
	We'ld fight there too. But this it is; our foot
	Upon the hills adjoining to the city
	Shall stay with us: order for sea is given;
	They have put forth the haven [           ]
	Where their appointment we may best discover,
	And look on their endeavour.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV


SCENE XI	Another part of the same.


	[Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, and his Army]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	But being charged, we will be still by land,
	Which, as I take't, we shall; for his best force
	Is forth to man his galleys. To the vales,
	And hold our best advantage.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV


SCENE XII	Another part of the same.


	[Enter MARK ANTONY and SCARUS]

MARK ANTONY	Yet they are not join'd: where yond pine
	does stand,
	I shall discover all: I'll bring thee word
	Straight, how 'tis like to go.

	[Exit]

SCARUS	Swallows have built
	In Cleopatra's sails their nests: the augurers
	Say they know not, they cannot tell; look grimly,
	And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony
	Is valiant, and dejected; and, by starts,
	His fretted fortunes give him hope, and fear,
	Of what he has, and has not.

	[Alarum afar off, as at a sea-fight]

	[Re-enter MARK ANTONY]

MARK ANTONY	All is lost;
	This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me:
	My fleet hath yielded to the foe; and yonder
	They cast their caps up and carouse together
	Like friends long lost. Triple-turn'd whore!
	'tis thou
	Hast sold me to this novice; and my heart
	Makes only wars on thee. Bid them all fly;
	For when I am revenged upon my charm,
	I have done all. Bid them all fly; begone.

	[Exit SCARUS]

	O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more:
	Fortune and Antony part here; even here
	Do we shake hands. All come to this? The hearts
	That spaniel'd me at heels, to whom I gave
	Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets
	On blossoming Caesar; and this pine is bark'd,
	That overtopp'd them all. Betray'd I am:
	O this false soul of Egypt! this grave charm,--
	Whose eye beck'd forth my wars, and call'd them home;
	Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end,--
	Like a right gipsy, hath, at fast and loose,
	Beguiled me to the very heart of loss.
	What, Eros, Eros!

	[Enter CLEOPATRA]

	Ah, thou spell! Avaunt!

CLEOPATRA	Why is my lord enraged against his love?

MARK ANTONY	Vanish, or I shall give thee thy deserving,
	And blemish Caesar's triumph. Let him take thee,
	And hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians:
	Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot
	Of all thy sex; most monster-like, be shown
	For poor'st diminutives, for doits; and let
	Patient Octavia plough thy visage up
	With her prepared nails.

	[Exit CLEOPATRA]

		'Tis well thou'rt gone,
	If it be well to live; but better 'twere
	Thou fell'st into my fury, for one death
	Might have prevented many. Eros, ho!
	The shirt of Nessus is upon me: teach me,
	Alcides, thou mine ancestor, thy rage:
	Let me lodge Lichas on the horns o' the moon;
	And with those hands, that grasp'd the heaviest club,
	Subdue my worthiest self. The witch shall die:
	To the young Roman boy she hath sold me, and I fall
	Under this plot; she dies for't. Eros, ho!

	[Exit]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV


SCENE XIII	Alexandria. Cleopatra's palace.


	[Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN]

CLEOPATRA	Help me, my women! O, he is more mad
	Than Telamon for his shield; the boar of Thessaly
	Was never so emboss'd.

CHARMIAN	To the monument!
	There lock yourself, and send him word you are dead.
	The soul and body rive not more in parting
	Than greatness going off.

CLEOPATRA	To the monument!
	Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself;
	Say, that the last I spoke was 'Antony,'
	And word it, prithee, piteously: hence, Mardian,
	And bring me how he takes my death.
	To the monument!

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE XIV	The same. Another room.


	[Enter MARK ANTONY and EROS]

MARK ANTONY	Eros, thou yet behold'st me?

EROS	Ay, noble lord.

MARK ANTONY	Sometimes we see a cloud that's dragonish;
	A vapour sometime like a bear or lion,
	A tower'd citadel, a pendent rock,
	A forked mountain, or blue promontory
	With trees upon't, that nod unto the world,
	And mock our eyes with air: thou hast seen
	these signs;
	They are black vesper's pageants.

EROS	Ay, my lord,

MARK ANTONY	That which is now a horse, even with a thought
	The rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct,
	As water is in water.

EROS	It does, my lord.

MARK ANTONY	My good knave Eros, now thy captain is
	Even such a body: here I am Antony:
	Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave.
	I made these wars for Egypt: and the queen,--
	Whose heart I thought I had, for she had mine;
	Which whilst it was mine had annex'd unto't
	A million more, now lost,--she, Eros, has
	Pack'd cards with Caesar, and false-play'd my glory
	Unto an enemy's triumph.
	Nay, weep not, gentle Eros; there is left us
	Ourselves to end ourselves.

	[Enter MARDIAN]

		      O! thy vile lady!
	She has robb'd me of my sword.

MARDIAN	No, Antony;
	My mistress loved thee, and her fortunes mingled
	With thine entirely.

MARK ANTONY	Hence, saucy eunuch; peace!
	She hath betray'd me and shall die the death.

MARDIAN	Death of one person can be paid but once,
	And that she has discharged: what thou wouldst do
	Is done unto thy hand: the last she spake
	Was 'Antony! most noble Antony!'
	Then in the midst a tearing groan did break
	The name of Antony; it was divided
	Between her heart and lips: she render'd life,
	Thy name so buried in her.

MARK ANTONY	Dead, then?

MARDIAN	Dead.

MARK ANTONY	Unarm, Eros; the long day's task is done,
	And we must sleep.

	[To MARDIAN]

	That thou depart'st hence safe,
	Does pay thy labour richly; go.

	[Exit MARDIAN]

		         Off, pluck off:
	The seven-fold shield of Ajax cannot keep
	The battery from my heart. O, cleave, my sides!
	Heart, once be stronger than thy continent,
	Crack thy frail case! Apace, Eros, apace.
	No more a soldier: bruised pieces, go;
	You have been nobly borne. From me awhile.

	[Exit EROS]

	I will o'ertake thee, Cleopatra, and
	Weep for my pardon. So it must be, for now
	All length is torture: since the torch is out,
	Lie down, and stray no farther: now all labour
	Mars what it does; yea, very force entangles
	Itself with strength: seal then, and all is done.
	Eros!--I come, my queen:--Eros!--Stay for me:
	Where souls do couch on flowers, we'll hand in hand,
	And with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze:
	Dido and her AEneas shall want troops,
	And all the haunt be ours. Come, Eros, Eros!

	[Re-enter EROS]

EROS	What would my lord?

MARK ANTONY	Since Cleopatra died,
	I have lived in such dishonour, that the gods
	Detest my baseness. I, that with my sword
	Quarter'd the world, and o'er green Neptune's back
	With ships made cities, condemn myself to lack
	The courage of a woman; less noble mind
	Than she which by her death our Caesar tells
	'I am conqueror of myself.' Thou art sworn, Eros,
	That, when the exigent should come, which now
	Is come indeed, when I should see behind me
	The inevitable prosecution of
	Disgrace and horror, that, on my command,
	Thou then wouldst kill me: do't; the time is come:
	Thou strikest not me, 'tis Caesar thou defeat'st.
	Put colour in thy cheek.

EROS	The gods withhold me!
	Shall I do that which all the Parthian darts,
	Though enemy, lost aim, and could not?

MARK ANTONY	Eros,
	Wouldst thou be window'd in great Rome and see
	Thy master thus with pleach'd arms, bending down
	His corrigible neck, his face subdued
	To penetrative shame, whilst the wheel'd seat
	Of fortunate Caesar, drawn before him, branded
	His baseness that ensued?

EROS	I would not see't.

MARK ANTONY	Come, then; for with a wound I must be cured.
	Draw that thy honest sword, which thou hast worn
	Most useful for thy country.

EROS	O, sir, pardon me!

MARK ANTONY	When I did make thee free, sworest thou not then
	To do this when I bade thee? Do it at once;
	Or thy precedent services are all
	But accidents unpurposed. Draw, and come.

EROS	Turn from me, then, that noble countenance,
	Wherein the worship of the whole world lies.

MARK ANTONY	Lo thee!

	[Turning from him]

EROS	My sword is drawn.

MARK ANTONY	                  Then let it do at once
	The thing why thou hast drawn it.

EROS	My dear master,
	My captain, and my emperor, let me say,
	Before I strike this bloody stroke, farewell.

MARK ANTONY	'Tis said, man; and farewell.

EROS	Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike now?

MARK ANTONY	Now, Eros.

EROS	Why, there then: thus I do escape the sorrow
	Of Antony's death.

	[Kills himself]

MARK ANTONY	                  Thrice-nobler than myself!
	Thou teachest me, O valiant Eros, what
	I should, and thou couldst not. My queen and Eros
	Have by their brave instruction got upon me
	A nobleness in record: but I will be
	A bridegroom in my death, and run into't
	As to a lover's bed. Come, then; and, Eros,
	Thy master dies thy scholar: to do thus

	[Falling on his sword]

	I learn'd of thee. How! not dead? not dead?
	The guard, ho! O, dispatch me!

	[Enter DERCETAS and Guard]

First Guard	What's the noise?

MARK ANTONY	I have done my work in, friends: O, make an end
	Of what I have begun.

Second Guard	The star is fall'n.

First Guard	And time is at his period.

All	Alas, and woe!

MARK ANTONY	Let him that loves me strike me dead.

First Guard	Not I.

Second Guard	Nor I.

Third Guard	Nor any one.

	[Exeunt Guard]

DERCETAS	Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly.
	This sword but shown to Caesar, with this tidings,
	Shall enter me with him.

	[Enter DIOMEDES]

DIOMEDES	Where's Antony?

DERCETAS	                  There, Diomed there.

DIOMEDES	Lives he?
	Wilt thou not answer, man?

	[Exit DERCETAS]

MARK ANTONY	Art thou there, Diomed? Draw thy sword, and give me
	Sufficing strokes for death.

DIOMEDES	Most absolute lord,
	My mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee.

MARK ANTONY	When did she send thee?

DIOMEDES	Now, my lord.

MARK ANTONY	Where is she?

DIOMEDES	Lock'd in her monument. She had a prophesying fear
	Of what hath come to pass: for when she saw--
	Which never shall be found--you did suspect
	She had disposed with Caesar, and that your rage
	Would not be purged, she sent you word she was dead;
	But, fearing since how it might work, hath sent
	Me to proclaim the truth; and I am come,
	I dread, too late.

MARK ANTONY	Too late, good Diomed: call my guard, I prithee.

DIOMEDES	What, ho, the emperor's guard! The guard, what, ho!
	Come, your lord calls!

	[Enter four or five of the Guard of MARK ANTONY]

MARK ANTONY	Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides;
	'Tis the last service that I shall command you.

First Guard	Woe, woe are we, sir, you may not live to wear
	All your true followers out.

All	Most heavy day!

MARK ANTONY	Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp fate
	To grace it with your sorrows: bid that welcome
	Which comes to punish us, and we punish it
	Seeming to bear it lightly. Take me up:
	I have led you oft: carry me now, good friends,
	And have my thanks for all.

	[Exeunt, bearing MARK ANTONY]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE XV	The same. A monument.


	[Enter CLEOPATRA and her maids aloft, with
	CHARMIAN and IRAS]

CLEOPATRA	O Charmian, I will never go from hence.

CHARMIAN	Be comforted, dear madam.

CLEOPATRA	No, I will not:
	All strange and terrible events are welcome,
	But comforts we despise; our size of sorrow,
	Proportion'd to our cause, must be as great
	As that which makes it.

	[Enter, below, DIOMEDES]

		  How now! is he dead?

DIOMEDES	His death's upon him, but not dead.
	Look out o' the other side your monument;
	His guard have brought him thither.

	[Enter, below, MARK ANTONY, borne by the Guard]

CLEOPATRA	O sun,
	Burn the great sphere thou movest in!
	darkling stand
	The varying shore o' the world. O Antony,
	Antony, Antony! Help, Charmian, help, Iras, help;
	Help, friends below; let's draw him hither.

MARK ANTONY	Peace!
	Not Caesar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony,
	But Antony's hath triumph'd on itself.

CLEOPATRA	So it should be, that none but Antony
	Should conquer Antony; but woe 'tis so!

MARK ANTONY	I am dying, Egypt, dying; only
	I here importune death awhile, until
	Of many thousand kisses the poor last
	I lay up thy lips.

CLEOPATRA	                  I dare not, dear,--
	Dear my lord, pardon,--I dare not,
	Lest I be taken: not the imperious show
	Of the full-fortuned Caesar ever shall
	Be brooch'd with me; if knife, drugs,
	serpents, have
	Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe:
	Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes
	And still conclusion, shall acquire no honour
	Demuring upon me. But come, come, Antony,--
	Help me, my women,--we must draw thee up:
	Assist, good friends.

MARK ANTONY	O, quick, or I am gone.

CLEOPATRA	Here's sport indeed! How heavy weighs my lord!
	Our strength is all gone into heaviness,
	That makes the weight: had I great Juno's power,
	The strong-wing'd Mercury should fetch thee up,
	And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little,--
	Wishes were ever fools,--O, come, come, come;

	[They heave MARK ANTONY aloft to CLEOPATRA]

	And welcome, welcome! die where thou hast lived:
	Quicken with kissing: had my lips that power,
	Thus would I wear them out.

All	A heavy sight!

MARK ANTONY	I am dying, Egypt, dying:
	Give me some wine, and let me speak a little.

CLEOPATRA	No, let me speak; and let me rail so high,
	That the false housewife Fortune break her wheel,
	Provoked by my offence.

MARK ANTONY	One word, sweet queen:
	Of Caesar seek your honour, with your safety. O!

CLEOPATRA	They do not go together.

MARK ANTONY	Gentle, hear me:
	None about Caesar trust but Proculeius.

CLEOPATRA	My resolution and my hands I'll trust;
	None about Caesar.

MARK ANTONY	The miserable change now at my end
	Lament nor sorrow at; but please your thoughts
	In feeding them with those my former fortunes
	Wherein I lived, the greatest prince o' the world,
	The noblest; and do now not basely die,
	Not cowardly put off my helmet to
	My countryman,--a Roman by a Roman
	Valiantly vanquish'd. Now my spirit is going;
	I can no more.

CLEOPATRA	                  Noblest of men, woo't die?
	Hast thou no care of me? shall I abide
	In this dull world, which in thy absence is
	No better than a sty? O, see, my women,

	[MARK ANTONY dies]

	The crown o' the earth doth melt. My lord!
	O, wither'd is the garland of the war,
	The soldier's pole is fall'n: young boys and girls
	Are level now with men; the odds is gone,
	And there is nothing left remarkable
	Beneath the visiting moon.

	[Faints]

CHARMIAN	O, quietness, lady!

IRAS	She is dead too, our sovereign.

CHARMIAN	Lady!

IRAS	Madam!

CHARMIAN	O madam, madam, madam!

IRAS	Royal Egypt, Empress!

CHARMIAN	Peace, peace, Iras!

CLEOPATRA	No more, but e'en a woman, and commanded
	By such poor passion as the maid that milks
	And does the meanest chares. It were for me
	To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods;
	To tell them that this world did equal theirs
	Till they had stol'n our jewel. All's but naught;
	Patience is scottish, and impatience does
	Become a dog that's mad: then is it sin
	To rush into the secret house of death,
	Ere death dare come to us? How do you, women?
	What, what! good cheer! Why, how now, Charmian!
	My noble girls! Ah, women, women, look,
	Our lamp is spent, it's out! Good sirs, take heart:
	We'll bury him; and then, what's brave,
	what's noble,
	Let's do it after the high Roman fashion,
	And make death proud to take us. Come, away:
	This case of that huge spirit now is cold:
	Ah, women, women! come; we have no friend
	But resolution, and the briefest end.

	[Exeunt; those above bearing off MARK ANTONY's body]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT V



SCENE I	Alexandria. OCTAVIUS CAESAR's camp.


	[Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, AGRIPPA, DOLABELLA, MECAENAS,
	GALLUS, PROCULEIUS, and others, his council of war]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield;
	Being so frustrate, tell him he mocks
	The pauses that he makes.

DOLABELLA	Caesar, I shall.

	[Exit]

	[Enter DERCETAS, with the sword of MARK ANTONY]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Wherefore is that? and what art thou that darest
	Appear thus to us?

DERCETAS	                  I am call'd Dercetas;
	Mark Antony I served, who best was worthy
	Best to be served: whilst he stood up and spoke,
	He was my master; and I wore my life
	To spend upon his haters. If thou please
	To take me to thee, as I was to him
	I'll be to Caesar; if thou pleasest not,
	I yield thee up my life.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	What is't thou say'st?

DERCETAS	I say, O Caesar, Antony is dead.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	The breaking of so great a thing should make
	A greater crack: the round world
	Should have shook lions into civil streets,
	And citizens to their dens: the death of Antony
	Is not a single doom; in the name lay
	A moiety of the world.

DERCETAS	He is dead, Caesar:
	Not by a public minister of justice,
	Nor by a hired knife; but that self hand,
	Which writ his honour in the acts it did,
	Hath, with the courage which the heart did lend it,
	Splitted the heart. This is his sword;
	I robb'd his wound of it; behold it stain'd
	With his most noble blood.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Look you sad, friends?
	The gods rebuke me, but it is tidings
	To wash the eyes of kings.

AGRIPPA	And strange it is,
	That nature must compel us to lament
	Our most persisted deeds.

MECAENAS	His taints and honours
	Waged equal with him.

AGRIPPA	A rarer spirit never
	Did steer humanity: but you, gods, will give us
	Some faults to make us men. Caesar is touch'd.

MECAENAS	When such a spacious mirror's set before him,
	He needs must see himself.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	O Antony!
	I have follow'd thee to this; but we do lance
	Diseases in our bodies: I must perforce
	Have shown to thee such a declining day,
	Or look on thine; we could not stall together
	In the whole world: but yet let me lament,
	With tears as sovereign as the blood of hearts,
	That thou, my brother, my competitor
	In top of all design, my mate in empire,
	Friend and companion in the front of war,
	The arm of mine own body, and the heart
	Where mine his thoughts did kindle,--that our stars,
	Unreconciliable, should divide
	Our equalness to this. Hear me, good friends--
	But I will tell you at some meeter season:

	[Enter an Egyptian]

	The business of this man looks out of him;
	We'll hear him what he says. Whence are you?

Egyptian	A poor Egyptian yet. The queen my mistress,
	Confined in all she has, her monument,
	Of thy intents desires instruction,
	That she preparedly may frame herself
	To the way she's forced to.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Bid her have good heart:
	She soon shall know of us, by some of ours,
	How honourable and how kindly we
	Determine for her; for Caesar cannot live
	To be ungentle.

Egyptian	So the gods preserve thee!

	[Exit]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Come hither, Proculeius. Go and say,
	We purpose her no shame: give her what comforts
	The quality of her passion shall require,
	Lest, in her greatness, by some mortal stroke
	She do defeat us; for her life in Rome
	Would be eternal in our triumph: go,
	And with your speediest bring us what she says,
	And how you find of her.

PROCULEIUS	Caesar, I shall.

	[Exit]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Gallus, go you along.

	[Exit GALLUS]

		Where's Dolabella,
	To second Proculeius?

All	Dolabella!

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Let him alone, for I remember now
	How he's employ'd: he shall in time be ready.
	Go with me to my tent; where you shall see
	How hardly I was drawn into this war;
	How calm and gentle I proceeded still
	In all my writings: go with me, and see
	What I can show in this.

	[Exeunt]




	ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT V



SCENE II	Alexandria. A room in the monument.


	[Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, and IRAS]

CLEOPATRA	My desolation does begin to make
	A better life. 'Tis paltry to be Caesar;
	Not being Fortune, he's but Fortune's knave,
	A minister of her will: and it is great
	To do that thing that ends all other deeds;
	Which shackles accidents and bolts up change;
	Which sleeps, and never palates more the dug,
	The beggar's nurse and Caesar's.

	[Enter, to the gates of the monument, PROCULEIUS,
	GALLUS and Soldiers]

PROCULEIUS	Caesar sends greeting to the Queen of Egypt;
	And bids thee study on what fair demands
	Thou mean'st to have him grant thee.

CLEOPATRA	What's thy name?

PROCULEIUS	My name is Proculeius.

CLEOPATRA	Antony
	Did tell me of you, bade me trust you; but
	I do not greatly care to be deceived,
	That have no use for trusting. If your master
	Would have a queen his beggar, you must tell him,
	That majesty, to keep decorum, must
	No less beg than a kingdom: if he please
	To give me conquer'd Egypt for my son,
	He gives me so much of mine own, as I
	Will kneel to him with thanks.

PROCULEIUS	Be of good cheer;
	You're fall'n into a princely hand, fear nothing:
	Make your full reference freely to my lord,
	Who is so full of grace, that it flows over
	On all that need: let me report to him
	Your sweet dependency; and you shall find
	A conqueror that will pray in aid for kindness,
	Where he for grace is kneel'd to.

CLEOPATRA	Pray you, tell him
	I am his fortune's vassal, and I send him
	The greatness he has got. I hourly learn
	A doctrine of obedience; and would gladly
	Look him i' the face.

PROCULEIUS	This I'll report, dear lady.
	Have comfort, for I know your plight is pitied
	Of him that caused it.

GALLUS	You see how easily she may be surprised:

	[Here PROCULEIUS and two of the Guard ascend the
	monument by a ladder placed against a window, and,
	having descended, come behind CLEOPATRA. Some of
	the Guard unbar and open the gates]

	[To PROCULEIUS and the Guard]

	Guard her till Caesar come.

	[Exit]

IRAS	Royal queen!

CHARMIAN	O Cleopatra! thou art taken, queen:

CLEOPATRA	Quick, quick, good hands.

	[Drawing a dagger]

PROCULEIUS	Hold, worthy lady, hold:

	[Seizes and disarms her]

	Do not yourself such wrong, who are in this
	Relieved, but not betray'd.

CLEOPATRA	What, of death too,
	That rids our dogs of languish?

PROCULEIUS	Cleopatra,
	Do not abuse my master's bounty by
	The undoing of yourself: let the world see
	His nobleness well acted, which your death
	Will never let come forth.

CLEOPATRA	Where art thou, death?
	Come hither, come! come, come, and take a queen
	Worthy many babes and beggars!

PROCULEIUS	O, temperance, lady!

CLEOPATRA	Sir, I will eat no meat, I'll not drink, sir;
	If idle talk will once be necessary,
	I'll not sleep neither: this mortal house I'll ruin,
	Do Caesar what he can. Know, sir, that I
	Will not wait pinion'd at your master's court;
	Nor once be chastised with the sober eye
	Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up
	And show me to the shouting varletry
	Of censuring Rome? Rather a ditch in Egypt
	Be gentle grave unto me! rather on Nilus' mud
	Lay me stark naked, and let the water-flies
	Blow me into abhorring! rather make
	My country's high pyramides my gibbet,
	And hang me up in chains!

PROCULEIUS	You do extend
	These thoughts of horror further than you shall
	Find cause in Caesar.

	[Enter DOLABELLA]

DOLABELLA	Proculeius,
	What thou hast done thy master Caesar knows,
	And he hath sent for thee: for the queen,
	I'll take her to my guard.

PROCULEIUS	So, Dolabella,
	It shall content me best: be gentle to her.

	[To CLEOPATRA]

	To Caesar I will speak what you shall please,
	If you'll employ me to him.

CLEOPATRA	Say, I would die.

	[Exeunt PROCULEIUS and Soldiers]

DOLABELLA	Most noble empress, you have heard of me?

CLEOPATRA	I cannot tell.

DOLABELLA	                  Assuredly you know me.

CLEOPATRA	No matter, sir, what I have heard or known.
	You laugh when boys or women tell their dreams;
	Is't not your trick?

DOLABELLA	I understand not, madam.

CLEOPATRA	I dream'd there was an Emperor Antony:
	O, such another sleep, that I might see
	But such another man!

DOLABELLA	If it might please ye,--

CLEOPATRA	His face was as the heavens; and therein stuck
	A sun and moon, which kept their course,
	and lighted
	The little O, the earth.

DOLABELLA	Most sovereign creature,--

CLEOPATRA	His legs bestrid the ocean: his rear'd arm
	Crested the world: his voice was propertied
	As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends;
	But when he meant to quail and shake the orb,
	He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty,
	There was no winter in't; an autumn 'twas
	That grew the more by reaping: his delights
	Were dolphin-like; they show'd his back above
	The element they lived in: in his livery
	Walk'd crowns and crownets; realms and islands were
	As plates dropp'd from his pocket.

DOLABELLA	Cleopatra!

CLEOPATRA	Think you there was, or might be, such a man
	As this I dream'd of?

DOLABELLA	Gentle madam, no.

CLEOPATRA	You lie, up to the hearing of the gods.
	But, if there be, or ever were, one such,
	It's past the size of dreaming: nature wants stuff
	To vie strange forms with fancy; yet, to imagine
	And Antony, were nature's piece 'gainst fancy,
	Condemning shadows quite.

DOLABELLA	Hear me, good madam.
	Your loss is as yourself, great; and you bear it
	As answering to the weight: would I might never
	O'ertake pursued success, but I do feel,
	By the rebound of yours, a grief that smites
	My very heart at root.

CLEOPATRA	I thank you, sir,
	Know you what Caesar means to do with me?

DOLABELLA	I am loath to tell you what I would you knew.

CLEOPATRA	Nay, pray you, sir,--

DOLABELLA	Though he be honourable,--

CLEOPATRA	He'll lead me, then, in triumph?

DOLABELLA	Madam, he will; I know't.

	[Flourish, and shout within, 'Make way there:
	Octavius Caesar!']

	[Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, GALLUS, PROCULEIUS,
	MECAENAS, SELEUCUS, and others of his Train]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Which is the Queen of Egypt?

DOLABELLA	It is the emperor, madam.

	[CLEOPATRA kneels]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Arise, you shall not kneel:
	I pray you, rise; rise, Egypt.

CLEOPATRA	Sir, the gods
	Will have it thus; my master and my lord
	I must obey.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	                  Take to you no hard thoughts:
	The record of what injuries you did us,
	Though written in our flesh, we shall remember
	As things but done by chance.

CLEOPATRA	Sole sir o' the world,
	I cannot project mine own cause so well
	To make it clear; but do confess I have
	Been laden with like frailties which before
	Have often shamed our sex.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Cleopatra, know,
	We will extenuate rather than enforce:
	If you apply yourself to our intents,
	Which towards you are most gentle, you shall find
	A benefit in this change; but if you seek
	To lay on me a cruelty, by taking
	Antony's course, you shall bereave yourself
	Of my good purposes, and put your children
	To that destruction which I'll guard them from,
	If thereon you rely. I'll take my leave.

CLEOPATRA	And may, through all the world: 'tis yours; and we,
	Your scutcheons and your signs of conquest, shall
	Hang in what place you please. Here, my good lord.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	You shall advise me in all for Cleopatra.

CLEOPATRA	This is the brief of money, plate, and jewels,
	I am possess'd of: 'tis exactly valued;
	Not petty things admitted. Where's Seleucus?

SELEUCUS	Here, madam.

CLEOPATRA	This is my treasurer: let him speak, my lord,
	Upon his peril, that I have reserved
	To myself nothing. Speak the truth, Seleucus.

SELEUCUS	Madam,
	I had rather seal my lips, than, to my peril,
	Speak that which is not.

CLEOPATRA	What have I kept back?

SELEUCUS	Enough to purchase what you have made known.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Nay, blush not, Cleopatra; I approve
	Your wisdom in the deed.

CLEOPATRA	See, Caesar! O, behold,
	How pomp is follow'd! mine will now be yours;
	And, should we shift estates, yours would be mine.
	The ingratitude of this Seleucus does
	Even make me wild: O slave, of no more trust
	Than love that's hired! What, goest thou back? thou shalt
	Go back, I warrant thee; but I'll catch thine eyes,
	Though they had wings: slave, soulless villain, dog!
	O rarely base!

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	                  Good queen, let us entreat you.

CLEOPATRA	O Caesar, what a wounding shame is this,
	That thou, vouchsafing here to visit me,
	Doing the honour of thy lordliness
	To one so meek, that mine own servant should
	Parcel the sum of my disgraces by
	Addition of his envy! Say, good Caesar,
	That I some lady trifles have reserved,
	Immoment toys, things of such dignity
	As we greet modern friends withal; and say,
	Some nobler token I have kept apart
	For Livia and Octavia, to induce
	Their mediation; must I be unfolded
	With one that I have bred? The gods! it smites me
	Beneath the fall I have.

	[To SELEUCUS]

		   Prithee, go hence;
	Or I shall show the cinders of my spirits
	Through the ashes of my chance: wert thou a man,
	Thou wouldst have mercy on me.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Forbear, Seleucus.

	[Exit SELEUCUS]

CLEOPATRA	Be it known, that we, the greatest, are misthought
	For things that others do; and, when we fall,
	We answer others' merits in our name,
	Are therefore to be pitied.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Cleopatra,
	Not what you have reserved, nor what acknowledged,
	Put we i' the roll of conquest: still be't yours,
	Bestow it at your pleasure; and believe,
	Caesar's no merchant, to make prize with you
	Of things that merchants sold. Therefore be cheer'd;
	Make not your thoughts your prisons: no, dear queen;
	For we intend so to dispose you as
	Yourself shall give us counsel. Feed, and sleep:
	Our care and pity is so much upon you,
	That we remain your friend; and so, adieu.

CLEOPATRA	My master, and my lord!

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Not so. Adieu.

	[Flourish. Exeunt OCTAVIUS CAESAR and his train]

CLEOPATRA	He words me, girls, he words me, that I should not
	Be noble to myself: but, hark thee, Charmian.

	[Whispers CHARMIAN]

IRAS	Finish, good lady; the bright day is done,
	And we are for the dark.

CLEOPATRA	Hie thee again:
	I have spoke already, and it is provided;
	Go put it to the haste.

CHARMIAN	Madam, I will.

	[Re-enter DOLABELLA]

DOLABELLA	Where is the queen?

CHARMIAN	Behold, sir.

	[Exit]

CLEOPATRA	Dolabella!

DOLABELLA	Madam, as thereto sworn by your command,
	Which my love makes religion to obey,
	I tell you this: Caesar through Syria
	Intends his journey; and within three days
	You with your children will he send before:
	Make your best use of this: I have perform'd
	Your pleasure and my promise.

CLEOPATRA	Dolabella,
	I shall remain your debtor.

DOLABELLA	I your servant,
	Adieu, good queen; I must attend on Caesar.

CLEOPATRA	Farewell, and thanks.

	[Exit DOLABELLA]

		Now, Iras, what think'st thou?
	Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shalt be shown
	In Rome, as well as I	mechanic slaves
	With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall
	Uplift us to the view; in their thick breaths,
	Rank of gross diet, shall be enclouded,
	And forced to drink their vapour.

IRAS	The gods forbid!

CLEOPATRA	Nay, 'tis most certain, Iras: saucy lictors
	Will catch at us, like strumpets; and scald rhymers
	Ballad us out o' tune: the quick comedians
	Extemporally will stage us, and present
	Our Alexandrian revels; Antony
	Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see
	Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness
	I' the posture of a whore.

IRAS	O the good gods!

CLEOPATRA	Nay, that's certain.

IRAS	I'll never see 't; for, I am sure, my nails
	Are stronger than mine eyes.

CLEOPATRA	Why, that's the way
	To fool their preparation, and to conquer
	Their most absurd intents.

	[Re-enter CHARMIAN]

		     Now, Charmian!
	Show me, my women, like a queen: go fetch
	My best attires: I am again for Cydnus,
	To meet Mark Antony: sirrah Iras, go.
	Now, noble Charmian, we'll dispatch indeed;
	And, when thou hast done this chare, I'll give thee leave
	To play till doomsday. Bring our crown and all.
	Wherefore's this noise?

	[Exit IRAS. A noise within]

	[Enter a Guardsman]

Guard	Here is a rural fellow
	That will not be denied your highness presence:
	He brings you figs.

CLEOPATRA	Let him come in.

	[Exit Guardsman]

	What poor an instrument
	May do a noble deed! he brings me liberty.
	My resolution's placed, and I have nothing
	Of woman in me: now from head to foot
	I am marble-constant; now the fleeting moon
	No planet is of mine.

	[Re-enter Guardsman, with Clown bringing in a basket]

Guard	This is the man.

CLEOPATRA	Avoid, and leave him.

	[Exit Guardsman]

	Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there,
	That kills and pains not?

Clown	Truly, I have him: but I would not be the party
	that should desire you to touch him, for his biting
	is immortal; those that do die of it do seldom or
	never recover.

CLEOPATRA	Rememberest thou any that have died on't?

Clown	Very many, men and women too. I heard of one of
	them no longer than yesterday: a very honest woman,
	but something given to lie; as a woman should not
	do, but in the way of honesty: how she died of the
	biting of it, what pain she felt: truly, she makes
	a very good report o' the worm; but he that will
	believe all that they say, shall never be saved by
	half that they do: but this is most fallible, the
	worm's an odd worm.

CLEOPATRA	Get thee hence; farewell.

Clown	I wish you all joy of the worm.

	[Setting down his basket]

CLEOPATRA	Farewell.

Clown	You must think this, look you, that the worm will
	do his kind.

CLEOPATRA	Ay, ay; farewell.

Clown	Look you, the worm is not to be trusted but in the
	keeping of wise people; for, indeed, there is no
	goodness in worm.


CLEOPATRA	Take thou no care; it shall be heeded.

Clown	Very good. Give it nothing, I pray you, for it is
	not worth the feeding.

CLEOPATRA	Will it eat me?

Clown	You must not think I am so simple but I know the
	devil himself will not eat a woman: I know that a
	woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her
	not. But, truly, these same whoreson devils do the
	gods great harm in their women; for in every ten
	that they make, the devils mar five.

CLEOPATRA	Well, get thee gone; farewell.

Clown	Yes, forsooth: I wish you joy o' the worm.

	[Exit]

	[Re-enter IRAS with a robe, crown, &c]

CLEOPATRA	Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have
	Immortal longings in me: now no more
	The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip:
	Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. Methinks I hear
	Antony call; I see him rouse himself
	To praise my noble act; I hear him mock
	The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men
	To excuse their after wrath: husband, I come:
	Now to that name my courage prove my title!
	I am fire and air; my other elements
	I give to baser life. So; have you done?
	Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips.
	Farewell, kind Charmian; Iras, long farewell.

	[Kisses them. IRAS falls and dies]

	Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall?
	If thou and nature can so gently part,
	The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch,
	Which hurts, and is desired. Dost thou lie still?
	If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world
	It is not worth leave-taking.

CHARMIAN	Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may say,
	The gods themselves do weep!

CLEOPATRA	This proves me base:
	If she first meet the curled Antony,
	He'll make demand of her, and spend that kiss
	Which is my heaven to have. Come, thou
	mortal wretch,

	[To an asp, which she applies to her breast]

	With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate
	Of life at once untie: poor venomous fool
	Be angry, and dispatch. O, couldst thou speak,
	That I might hear thee call great Caesar ass
	Unpolicied!

CHARMIAN	          O eastern star!

CLEOPATRA	Peace, peace!
	Dost thou not see my baby at my breast,
	That sucks the nurse asleep?

CHARMIAN	O, break! O, break!

CLEOPATRA	As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle,--
	O Antony!--Nay, I will take thee too.

	[Applying another asp to her arm]

	What should I stay--

	[Dies]

CHARMIAN	In this vile world? So, fare thee well.
	Now boast thee, death, in thy possession lies
	A lass unparallel'd. Downy windows, close;
	And golden Phoebus never be beheld
	Of eyes again so royal! Your crown's awry;
	I'll mend it, and then play.

	[Enter the Guard, rushing in]

First Guard	Where is the queen?

CHARMIAN	Speak softly, wake her not.

First Guard	Caesar hath sent--

CHARMIAN	                  Too slow a messenger.

	[Applies an asp]

	O, come apace, dispatch! I partly feel thee.

First Guard	Approach, ho! All's not well: Caesar's beguiled.

Second Guard	There's Dolabella sent from Caesar; call him.

First Guard	What work is here! Charmian, is this well done?

CHARMIAN	It is well done, and fitting for a princess
	Descended of so many royal kings.
	Ah, soldier!

	[Dies]

	[Re-enter DOLABELLA]

DOLABELLA	How goes it here?

Second Guard	                  All dead.

DOLABELLA	Caesar, thy thoughts
	Touch their effects in this: thyself art coming
	To see perform'd the dreaded act which thou
	So sought'st to hinder.

	[Within  'A way there, a way for Caesar!']

	[Re-enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR and all his train marching]

DOLABELLA	O sir, you are too sure an augurer;
	That you did fear is done.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Bravest at the last,
	She levell'd at our purposes, and, being royal,
	Took her own way. The manner of their deaths?
	I do not see them bleed.

DOLABELLA	Who was last with them?

First Guard	A simple countryman, that brought her figs:
	This was his basket.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Poison'd, then.

First Guard	O Caesar,
	This Charmian lived but now; she stood and spake:
	I found her trimming up the diadem
	On her dead mistress; tremblingly she stood
	And on the sudden dropp'd.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	O noble weakness!
	If they had swallow'd poison, 'twould appear
	By external swelling: but she looks like sleep,
	As she would catch another Antony
	In her strong toil of grace.

DOLABELLA	Here, on her breast,
	There is a vent of blood and something blown:
	The like is on her arm.

First Guard	This is an aspic's trail: and these fig-leaves
	Have slime upon them, such as the aspic leaves
	Upon the caves of Nile.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR	Most probable
	That so she died; for her physician tells me
	She hath pursued conclusions infinite
	Of easy ways to die. Take up her bed;
	And bear her women from the monument:
	She shall be buried by her Antony:
	No grave upon the earth shall clip in it
	A pair so famous. High events as these
	Strike those that make them; and their story is
	No less in pity than his glory which
	Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall
	In solemn show attend this funeral;
	And then to Rome. Come, Dolabella, see
	High order in this great solemnity.

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


CAIUS MARCIUS	(MARCUS:)  Afterwards CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS.
	(CORIOLANUS:)


TITUS LARTIUS	(LARTIUS:)	|
		|  generals against the Volscians.
COMINIUS		|


MENENIUS AGRIPPA	friend to Coriolanus. (MENENIUS:)


SICINIUS VELUTUS	(SICINIUS:)	|
		|  tribunes of the people.
JUNIUS BRUTUS	(BRUTUS:)	|


Young MARCUS	son to Coriolanus.

	A Roman Herald. (Herald:)

TULLUS AUFIDIUS	general of the Volscians. (AUFIDIUS:)

	Lieutenant to Aufidius. (Lieutenant:)

	Conspirators with Aufidius.
	(First Conspirator:)
	(Second Conspirator:)
	(Third Conspirator:)

	A Citizen of Antium.

	Two Volscian Guards.

VOLUMNIA	mother to Coriolanus.

VIRGILIA	wife to Coriolanus.

VALERIA	friend to Virgilia.

	Gentlewoman, attending on Virgilia. (Gentlewoman:)

	Roman and Volscian Senators, Patricians,
	AEdiles, Lictors, Soldiers, Citizens, Messengers,
	Servants to Aufidius, and other Attendants.
	(First Senator:)
	(Second Senator:)
	(A Patrician:)
	(Second Patrician:)
	(AEdile:)
	(First Soldier:)
	(Second Soldier:)
	(First Citizen:)
	(Second Citizen:)
	(Third Citizen:)
	(Fourth Citizen:)
	(Fifth Citizen:)
	(Sixth Citizen:)
	(Seventh Citizen:)
	(Messenger:)
	(Second Messenger:)
	(First Serviceman:)
	(Second Serviceman:)
	(Third Serviceman:)
	(Officer:)
	(First Officer:)
	(Second Officer:)
	(Roman:)
	(First Roman:)
	(Second Roman:)
	(Third Roman:)
	(Volsce:)
	(First Lord:)
	(Second Lord:)
	(Third Lord:)


SCENE	Rome and the neighbourhood; Corioli
	and the neighbourhood; Antium.




	CORIOLANUS



ACT I



SCENE I	Rome. A street.


	[Enter a company of mutinous Citizens, with staves,
	clubs, and other weapons]

First Citizen	Before we proceed any further, hear me speak.

All	Speak, speak.

First Citizen	You are all resolved rather to die than to famish?

All	Resolved. resolved.

First Citizen	First, you know Caius Marcius is chief enemy to the people.

All	We know't, we know't.

First Citizen	Let us kill him, and we'll have corn at our own price.
	Is't a verdict?

All	No more talking on't; let it be done: away, away!

Second Citizen	One word, good citizens.

First Citizen	We are accounted poor citizens, the patricians good.
	What authority surfeits on would relieve us: if they
	would yield us but the superfluity, while it were
	wholesome, we might guess they relieved us humanely;
	but they think we are too dear: the leanness that
	afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an
	inventory to particularise their abundance; our
	sufferance is a gain to them Let us revenge this with
	our pikes, ere we become rakes: for the gods know I
	speak this in hunger for bread, not in thirst for revenge.

Second Citizen	Would you proceed especially against Caius Marcius?

All	Against him first: he's a very dog to the commonalty.

Second Citizen	Consider you what services he has done for his country?

First Citizen	Very well; and could be content to give him good
	report fort, but that he pays himself with being proud.

Second Citizen	Nay, but speak not maliciously.

First Citizen	I say unto you, what he hath done famously, he did
	it to that end: though soft-conscienced men can be
	content to say it was for his country he did it to
	please his mother and to be partly proud; which he
	is, even till the altitude of his virtue.

Second Citizen	What he cannot help in his nature, you account a
	vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous.

First Citizen	If I must not, I need not be barren of accusations;
	he hath faults, with surplus, to tire in repetition.

	[Shouts within]

	What shouts are these? The other side o' the city
	is risen: why stay we prating here? to the Capitol!

All	Come, come.

First Citizen	Soft! who comes here?

	[Enter MENENIUS AGRIPPA]

Second Citizen	Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one that hath always loved
	the people.

First Citizen	He's one honest enough: would all the rest were so!

MENENIUS	What work's, my countrymen, in hand? where go you
	With bats and clubs? The matter? speak, I pray you.

First Citizen	Our business is not unknown to the senate; they have
	had inkling this fortnight what we intend to do,
	which now we'll show 'em in deeds. They say poor
	suitors have strong breaths: they shall know we
	have strong arms too.

MENENIUS	Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbours,
	Will you undo yourselves?

First Citizen	We cannot, sir, we are undone already.

MENENIUS	I tell you, friends, most charitable care
	Have the patricians of you. For your wants,
	Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well
	Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them
	Against the Roman state, whose course will on
	The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs
	Of more strong link asunder than can ever
	Appear in your impediment. For the dearth,
	The gods, not the patricians, make it, and
	Your knees to them, not arms, must help. Alack,
	You are transported by calamity
	Thither where more attends you, and you slander
	The helms o' the state, who care for you like fathers,
	When you curse them as enemies.

First Citizen	Care for us! True, indeed! They ne'er cared for us
	yet: suffer us to famish, and their store-houses
	crammed with grain; make edicts for usury, to
	support usurers; repeal daily any wholesome act
	established against the rich, and provide more
	piercing statutes daily, to chain up and restrain
	the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will; and
	there's all the love they bear us.

MENENIUS	Either you must
	Confess yourselves wondrous malicious,
	Or be accused of folly. I shall tell you
	A pretty tale: it may be you have heard it;
	But, since it serves my purpose, I will venture
	To stale 't a little more.

First Citizen	Well, I'll hear it, sir: yet you must not think to
	fob off our disgrace with a tale: but, an 't please
	you, deliver.

MENENIUS	There was a time when all the body's members
	Rebell'd against the belly, thus accused it:
	That only like a gulf it did remain
	I' the midst o' the body, idle and unactive,
	Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing
	Like labour with the rest, where the other instruments
	Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel,
	And, mutually participate, did minister
	Unto the appetite and affection common
	Of the whole body. The belly answer'd--

First Citizen	Well, sir, what answer made the belly?

MENENIUS	Sir, I shall tell you. With a kind of smile,
	Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus--
	For, look you, I may make the belly smile
	As well as speak--it tauntingly replied
	To the discontented members, the mutinous parts
	That envied his receipt; even so most fitly
	As you malign our senators for that
	They are not such as you.

First Citizen	Your belly's answer? What!
	The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye,
	The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier,
	Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter.
	With other muniments and petty helps
	In this our fabric, if that they--

MENENIUS	What then?
	'Fore me, this fellow speaks! What then? what then?

First Citizen	Should by the cormorant belly be restrain'd,
	Who is the sink o' the body,--

MENENIUS	Well, what then?

First Citizen	The former agents, if they did complain,
	What could the belly answer?

MENENIUS	I will tell you
	If you'll bestow a small--of what you have little--
	Patience awhile, you'll hear the belly's answer.

First Citizen	Ye're long about it.

MENENIUS	Note me this, good friend;
	Your most grave belly was deliberate,
	Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer'd:
	'True is it, my incorporate friends,' quoth he,
	'That I receive the general food at first,
	Which you do live upon; and fit it is,
	Because I am the store-house and the shop
	Of the whole body: but, if you do remember,
	I send it through the rivers of your blood,
	Even to the court, the heart, to the seat o' the brain;
	And, through the cranks and offices of man,
	The strongest nerves and small inferior veins
	From me receive that natural competency
	Whereby they live: and though that all at once,
	You, my good friends,'--this says the belly, mark me,--

First Citizen	Ay, sir; well, well.

MENENIUS	'Though all at once cannot
	See what I do deliver out to each,
	Yet I can make my audit up, that all
	From me do back receive the flour of all,
	And leave me but the bran.' What say you to't?

First Citizen	It was an answer: how apply you this?

MENENIUS	The senators of Rome are this good belly,
	And you the mutinous members; for examine
	Their counsels and their cares, digest things rightly
	Touching the weal o' the common, you shall find
	No public benefit which you receive
	But it proceeds or comes from them to you
	And no way from yourselves. What do you think,
	You, the great toe of this assembly?

First Citizen	I the great toe! why the great toe?

MENENIUS	For that, being one o' the lowest, basest, poorest,
	Of this most wise rebellion, thou go'st foremost:
	Thou rascal, that art worst in blood to run,
	Lead'st first to win some vantage.
	But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs:
	Rome and her rats are at the point of battle;
	The one side must have bale.

	[Enter CAIUS MARCIUS]

		       Hail, noble Marcius!

MARCIUS	Thanks. What's the matter, you dissentious rogues,
	That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion,
	Make yourselves scabs?

First Citizen	We have ever your good word.

MARCIUS	He that will give good words to thee will flatter
	Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs,
	That like nor peace nor war? the one affrights you,
	The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you,
	Where he should find you lions, finds you hares;
	Where foxes, geese: you are no surer, no,
	Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,
	Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is
	To make him worthy whose offence subdues him
	And curse that justice did it.
	Who deserves greatness
	Deserves your hate; and your affections are
	A sick man's appetite, who desires most that
	Which would increase his evil. He that depends
	Upon your favours swims with fins of lead
	And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust Ye?
	With every minute you do change a mind,
	And call him noble that was now your hate,
	Him vile that was your garland. What's the matter,
	That in these several places of the city
	You cry against the noble senate, who,
	Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else
	Would feed on one another? What's their seeking?

MENENIUS	For corn at their own rates; whereof, they say,
	The city is well stored.

MARCIUS	Hang 'em! They say!
	They'll sit by the fire, and presume to know
	What's done i' the Capitol; who's like to rise,
	Who thrives and who declines; side factions
	and give out
	Conjectural marriages; making parties strong
	And feebling such as stand not in their liking
	Below their cobbled shoes. They say there's
	grain enough!
	Would the nobility lay aside their ruth,
	And let me use my sword, I'll make a quarry
	With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high
	As I could pick my lance.

MENENIUS	Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded;
	For though abundantly they lack discretion,
	Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I beseech you,
	What says the other troop?

MARCIUS	They are dissolved: hang 'em!
	They said they were an-hungry; sigh'd forth proverbs,
	That hunger broke stone walls, that dogs must eat,
	That meat was made for mouths, that the gods sent not
	Corn for the rich men only: with these shreds
	They vented their complainings; which being answer'd,
	And a petition granted them, a strange one--
	To break the heart of generosity,
	And make bold power look pale--they threw their caps
	As they would hang them on the horns o' the moon,
	Shouting their emulation.

MENENIUS	What is granted them?

MARCIUS	Five tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdoms,
	Of their own choice: one's Junius Brutus,
	Sicinius Velutus, and I know not--'Sdeath!
	The rabble should have first unroof'd the city,
	Ere so prevail'd with me: it will in time
	Win upon power and throw forth greater themes
	For insurrection's arguing.

MENENIUS	This is strange.

MARCIUS	Go, get you home, you fragments!

	[Enter a Messenger, hastily]

Messenger	Where's Caius Marcius?

MARCIUS	Here: what's the matter?

Messenger	The news is, sir, the Volsces are in arms.

MARCIUS	I am glad on 't: then we shall ha' means to vent
	Our musty superfluity. See, our best elders.

	[Enter COMINIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, and other Senators;
	JUNIUS BRUTUS and SICINIUS VELUTUS]

First Senator	Marcius, 'tis true that you have lately told us;
	The Volsces are in arms.

MARCIUS	They have a leader,
	Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to 't.
	I sin in envying his nobility,
	And were I any thing but what I am,
	I would wish me only he.

COMINIUS	You have fought together.

MARCIUS	Were half to half the world by the ears and he.
	Upon my party, I'ld revolt to make
	Only my wars with him: he is a lion
	That I am proud to hunt.

First Senator	Then, worthy Marcius,
	Attend upon Cominius to these wars.

COMINIUS	It is your former promise.

MARCIUS	Sir, it is;
	And I am constant. Titus Lartius, thou
	Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face.
	What, art thou stiff? stand'st out?

TITUS	No, Caius Marcius;
	I'll lean upon one crutch and fight with t'other,
	Ere stay behind this business.

MENENIUS	O, true-bred!

First Senator	Your company to the Capitol; where, I know,
	Our greatest friends attend us.

TITUS	[To COMINIUS]                Lead you on.

	[To MARCIUS]  Follow Cominius; we must follow you;
	Right worthy you priority.

COMINIUS	Noble Marcius!

First Senator	[To the Citizens]  Hence to your homes; be gone!

MARCIUS	Nay, let them follow:
	The Volsces have much corn; take these rats thither
	To gnaw their garners. Worshipful mutiners,
	Your valour puts well forth: pray, follow.

	[Citizens steal away. Exeunt all but SICINIUS
	and BRUTUS]

SICINIUS	Was ever man so proud as is this Marcius?

BRUTUS	He has no equal.

SICINIUS	When we were chosen tribunes for the people,--

BRUTUS	Mark'd you his lip and eyes?

SICINIUS	Nay. but his taunts.

BRUTUS	Being moved, he will not spare to gird the gods.

SICINIUS	Be-mock the modest moon.

BRUTUS	The present wars devour him: he is grown
	Too proud to be so valiant.

SICINIUS	Such a nature,
	Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow
	Which he treads on at noon: but I do wonder
	His insolence can brook to be commanded
	Under Cominius.

BRUTUS	Fame, at the which he aims,
	In whom already he's well graced, can not
	Better be held nor more attain'd than by
	A place below the first: for what miscarries
	Shall be the general's fault, though he perform
	To the utmost of a man, and giddy censure
	Will then cry out of Marcius 'O if he
	Had borne the business!'

SICINIUS	Besides, if things go well,
	Opinion that so sticks on Marcius shall
	Of his demerits rob Cominius.

BRUTUS	Come:
	Half all Cominius' honours are to Marcius.
	Though Marcius earned them not, and all his faults
	To Marcius shall be honours, though indeed
	In aught he merit not.

SICINIUS	Let's hence, and hear
	How the dispatch is made, and in what fashion,
	More than his singularity, he goes
	Upon this present action.

BRUTUS	Lets along.

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT I



SCENE II	Corioli. The Senate-house.


	[Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS and certain Senators]

First Senator	So, your opinion is, Aufidius,
	That they of Rome are entered in our counsels
	And know how we proceed.

AUFIDIUS	Is it not yours?
	What ever have been thought on in this state,
	That could be brought to bodily act ere Rome
	Had circumvention? 'Tis not four days gone
	Since I heard thence; these are the words: I think
	I have the letter here; yes, here it is.

	[Reads]

	'They have press'd a power, but it is not known
	Whether for east or west: the dearth is great;
	The people mutinous; and it is rumour'd,
	Cominius, Marcius your old enemy,
	Who is of Rome worse hated than of you,
	And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman,
	These three lead on this preparation
	Whither 'tis bent: most likely 'tis for you:
	Consider of it.'

First Senator	                  Our army's in the field
	We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready
	To answer us.

AUFIDIUS	                  Nor did you think it folly
	To keep your great pretences veil'd till when
	They needs must show themselves; which
	in the hatching,
	It seem'd, appear'd to Rome. By the discovery.
	We shall be shorten'd in our aim, which was
	To take in many towns ere almost Rome
	Should know we were afoot.

Second Senator	Noble Aufidius,
	Take your commission; hie you to your bands:
	Let us alone to guard Corioli:
	If they set down before 's, for the remove
	Bring your army; but, I think, you'll find
	They've not prepared for us.

AUFIDIUS	O, doubt not that;
	I speak from certainties. Nay, more,
	Some parcels of their power are forth already,
	And only hitherward. I leave your honours.
	If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet,
	'Tis sworn between us we shall ever strike
	Till one can do no more.

All	The gods assist you!

AUFIDIUS	And keep your honours safe!

First Senator	Farewell.

Second Senator	Farewell.

All	Farewell.

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT I



SCENE III	Rome. A room in Marcius' house.


	[Enter VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA	they set them down
	on two low stools, and sew]

VOLUMNIA	I pray you, daughter, sing; or express yourself in a
	more comfortable sort: if my son were my husband, I
	should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he
	won honour than in the embracements of his bed where
	he would show most love. When yet he was but
	tender-bodied and the only son of my womb, when
	youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way, when
	for a day of kings' entreaties a mother should not
	sell him an hour from her beholding, I, considering
	how honour would become such a person. that it was
	no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if
	renown made it not stir, was pleased to let him seek
	danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel
	war I sent him; from whence he returned, his brows
	bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I sprang not
	more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child
	than now in first seeing he had proved himself a
	man.

VIRGILIA	But had he died in the business, madam; how then?

VOLUMNIA	Then his good report should have been my son; I
	therein would have found issue. Hear me profess
	sincerely: had I a dozen sons, each in my love
	alike and none less dear than thine and my good
	Marcius, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their
	country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.

	[Enter a Gentlewoman]

Gentlewoman	Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you.

VIRGILIA	Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself.

VOLUMNIA	Indeed, you shall not.
	Methinks I hear hither your husband's drum,
	See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair,
	As children from a bear, the Volsces shunning him:
	Methinks I see him stamp thus, and call thus:
	'Come on, you cowards! you were got in fear,
	Though you were born in Rome:' his bloody brow
	With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes,
	Like to a harvest-man that's task'd to mow
	Or all or lose his hire.

VIRGILIA	His bloody brow! O Jupiter, no blood!

VOLUMNIA	Away, you fool! it more becomes a man
	Than gilt his trophy: the breasts of Hecuba,
	When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier
	Than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood
	At Grecian sword, contemning. Tell Valeria,
	We are fit to bid her welcome.

	[Exit Gentlewoman]

VIRGILIA	Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!

VOLUMNIA	He'll beat Aufidius 'head below his knee
	And tread upon his neck.

	[Enter VALERIA, with an Usher and Gentlewoman]

VALERIA	My ladies both, good day to you.

VOLUMNIA	Sweet madam.

VIRGILIA	I am glad to see your ladyship.

VALERIA	How do you both? you are manifest house-keepers.
	What are you sewing here? A fine spot, in good
	faith. How does your little son?

VIRGILIA	I thank your ladyship; well, good madam.

VOLUMNIA	He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum, than
	look upon his school-master.

VALERIA	O' my word, the father's son: I'll swear,'tis a
	very pretty boy. O' my troth, I looked upon him o'
	Wednesday half an hour together: has such a
	confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a gilded
	butterfly: and when he caught it, he let it go
	again; and after it again; and over and over he
	comes, and again; catched it again; or whether his
	fall enraged him, or how 'twas, he did so set his
	teeth and tear it; O, I warrant it, how he mammocked
	it!

VOLUMNIA	One on 's father's moods.

VALERIA	Indeed, la, 'tis a noble child.

VIRGILIA	A crack, madam.

VALERIA	Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play
	the idle husewife with me this afternoon.

VIRGILIA	No, good madam; I will not out of doors.

VALERIA	Not out of doors!

VOLUMNIA	She shall, she shall.

VIRGILIA	Indeed, no, by your patience; I'll not over the
	threshold till my lord return from the wars.

VALERIA	Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably: come,
	you must go visit the good lady that lies in.

VIRGILIA	I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with
	my prayers; but I cannot go thither.

VOLUMNIA	Why, I pray you?

VIRGILIA	'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love.

VALERIA	You would be another Penelope: yet, they say, all
	the yarn she spun in Ulysses' absence did but fill
	Ithaca full of moths. Come; I would your cambric
	were sensible as your finger, that you might leave
	pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us.

VIRGILIA	No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth.

VALERIA	In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you
	excellent news of your husband.

VIRGILIA	O, good madam, there can be none yet.

VALERIA	Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from
	him last night.

VIRGILIA	Indeed, madam?

VALERIA	In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak it.
	Thus it is: the Volsces have an army forth; against
	whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of
	our Roman power: your lord and Titus Lartius are set
	down before their city Corioli; they nothing doubt
	prevailing and to make it brief wars. This is true,
	on mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us.

VIRGILIA	Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in every
	thing hereafter.

VOLUMNIA	Let her alone, lady: as she is now, she will but
	disease our better mirth.

VALERIA	In troth, I think she would. Fare you well, then.
	Come, good sweet lady. Prithee, Virgilia, turn thy
	solemness out o' door. and go along with us.

VIRGILIA	No, at a word, madam; indeed, I must not. I wish
	you much mirth.

VALERIA	Well, then, farewell.

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT I



SCENE IV	Before Corioli.


	[Enter, with drum and colours, MARCIUS, TITUS
	LARTIUS, Captains and Soldiers. To them a
	Messenger]

MARCIUS	Yonder comes news. A wager they have met.

LARTIUS	My horse to yours, no.

MARCIUS	'Tis done.

LARTIUS	Agreed.

MARCIUS	Say, has our general met the enemy?

Messenger	They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet.

LARTIUS	So, the good horse is mine.

MARCIUS	I'll buy him of you.

LARTIUS	No, I'll nor sell nor give him: lend you him I will
	For half a hundred years. Summon the town.

MARCIUS	How far off lie these armies?

Messenger	Within this mile and half.

MARCIUS	Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they ours.
	Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work,
	That we with smoking swords may march from hence,
	To help our fielded friends! Come, blow thy blast.

	[They sound a parley. Enter two Senators with others
	on the walls]

	Tutus Aufidius, is he within your walls?

First Senator	No, nor a man that fears you less than he,
	That's lesser than a little.

	[Drums afar off]

		       Hark! our drums
	Are bringing forth our youth. We'll break our walls,
	Rather than they shall pound us up: our gates,
	Which yet seem shut, we, have but pinn'd with rushes;
	They'll open of themselves.

	[Alarum afar off]

		      Hark you. far off!
	There is Aufidius; list, what work he makes
	Amongst your cloven army.

MARCIUS	O, they are at it!

LARTIUS	Their noise be our instruction. Ladders, ho!

	[Enter the army of the Volsces]

MARCIUS	They fear us not, but issue forth their city.
	Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight
	With hearts more proof than shields. Advance,
	brave Titus:
	They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts,
	Which makes me sweat with wrath. Come on, my fellows:
	He that retires I'll take him for a Volsce,
	And he shall feel mine edge.

	[Alarum. The Romans are beat back to their
	trenches. Re-enter MARCIUS cursing]

MARCIUS	All the contagion of the south light on you,
	You shames of Rome! you herd of--Boils and plagues
	Plaster you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd
	Further than seen and one infect another
	Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese,
	That bear the shapes of men, how have you run
	From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and hell!
	All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale
	With flight and agued fear! Mend and charge home,
	Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe
	And make my wars on you: look to't: come on;
	If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives,
	As they us to our trenches followed.

	[Another alarum. The Volsces fly, and MARCIUS
	follows them to the gates]

	So, now the gates are ope: now prove good seconds:
	'Tis for the followers fortune widens them,
	Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like.

	[Enters the gates]

First Soldier	Fool-hardiness; not I.

Second Soldier	Nor I.

	[MARCIUS is shut in]

First Soldier	See, they have shut him in.

All	To the pot, I warrant him.

	[Alarum continues]

	[Re-enter TITUS LARTIUS]

LARTIUS	What is become of Marcius?

All	Slain, sir, doubtless.

First Soldier	Following the fliers at the very heels,
	With them he enters; who, upon the sudden,
	Clapp'd to their gates: he is himself alone,
	To answer all the city.

LARTIUS	O noble fellow!
	Who sensibly outdares his senseless sword,
	And, when it bows, stands up. Thou art left, Marcius:
	A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art,
	Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier
	Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible
	Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks and
	The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds,
	Thou madst thine enemies shake, as if the world
	Were feverous and did tremble.

	[Re-enter MARCIUS, bleeding, assaulted by the enemy]

First Soldier	Look, sir.

LARTIUS	O,'tis Marcius!
	Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike.

	[They fight, and all enter the city]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT I



SCENE V	Corioli. A street.


	[Enter certain Romans, with spoils]

First Roman	This will I carry to Rome.

Second Roman	And I this.

Third Roman	A murrain on't! I took this for silver.

	[Alarum continues still afar off]

	[Enter MARCIUS and TITUS LARTIUS with a trumpet]

MARCIUS	See here these movers that do prize their hours
	At a crack'd drachm! Cushions, leaden spoons,
	Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would
	Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves,
	Ere yet the fight be done, pack up: down with them!
	And hark, what noise the general makes! To him!
	There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius,
	Piercing our Romans: then, valiant Titus, take
	Convenient numbers to make good the city;
	Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste
	To help Cominius.

LARTIUS	                  Worthy sir, thou bleed'st;
	Thy exercise hath been too violent for
	A second course of fight.

MARCIUS	Sir, praise me not;
	My work hath yet not warm'd me: fare you well:
	The blood I drop is rather physical
	Than dangerous to me: to Aufidius thus
	I will appear, and fight.

LARTIUS	Now the fair goddess, Fortune,
	Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms
	Misguide thy opposers' swords! Bold gentleman,
	Prosperity be thy page!

MARCIUS	Thy friend no less
	Than those she placeth highest! So, farewell.

LARTIUS	Thou worthiest Marcius!

	[Exit MARCIUS]

	Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place;
	Call thither all the officers o' the town,
	Where they shall know our mind: away!

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT I



SCENE VI	Near the camp of Cominius.


	[Enter COMINIUS, as it were in retire,
	with soldiers]

COMINIUS	Breathe you, my friends: well fought;
	we are come off
	Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands,
	Nor cowardly in retire: believe me, sirs,
	We shall be charged again. Whiles we have struck,
	By interims and conveying gusts we have heard
	The charges of our friends. Ye Roman gods!
	Lead their successes as we wish our own,
	That both our powers, with smiling
	fronts encountering,
	May give you thankful sacrifice.

	[Enter a Messenger]

		                  Thy news?

Messenger	The citizens of Corioli have issued,
	And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle:
	I saw our party to their trenches driven,
	And then I came away.

COMINIUS	Though thou speak'st truth,
	Methinks thou speak'st not well.
	How long is't since?

Messenger	Above an hour, my lord.

COMINIUS	'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums:
	How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour,
	And bring thy news so late?

Messenger	Spies of the Volsces
	Held me in chase, that I was forced to wheel
	Three or four miles about, else had I, sir,
	Half an hour since brought my report.

COMINIUS	Who's yonder,
	That does appear as he were flay'd? O gods
	He has the stamp of Marcius; and I have
	Before-time seen him thus.

MARCIUS	[Within]                 Come I too late?

COMINIUS	The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabour
	More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue
	From every meaner man.

	[Enter MARCIUS]

MARCIUS	Come I too late?

COMINIUS	Ay, if you come not in the blood of others,
	But mantled in your own.

MARCIUS	O, let me clip ye
	In arms as sound as when I woo'd, in heart
	As merry as when our nuptial day was done,
	And tapers burn'd to bedward!

COMINIUS	Flower of warriors,
	How is it with Titus Lartius?

MARCIUS	As with a man busied about decrees:
	Condemning some to death, and some to exile;
	Ransoming him, or pitying, threatening the other;
	Holding Corioli in the name of Rome,
	Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash,
	To let him slip at will.

COMINIUS	Where is that slave
	Which told me they had beat you to your trenches?
	Where is he? call him hither.

MARCIUS	Let him alone;
	He did inform the truth: but for our gentlemen,
	The common file--a plague! tribunes for them!--
	The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat as they did budge
	From rascals worse than they.

COMINIUS	But how prevail'd you?

MARCIUS	Will the time serve to tell? I do not think.
	Where is the enemy? are you lords o' the field?
	If not, why cease you till you are so?

COMINIUS	Marcius,
	We have at disadvantage fought and did
	Retire to win our purpose.

MARCIUS	How lies their battle? know you on which side
	They have placed their men of trust?

COMINIUS	As I guess, Marcius,
	Their bands i' the vaward are the Antiates,
	Of their best trust; o'er them Aufidius,
	Their very heart of hope.

MARCIUS	I do beseech you,
	By all the battles wherein we have fought,
	By the blood we have shed together, by the vows
	We have made to endure friends, that you directly
	Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates;
	And that you not delay the present, but,
	Filling the air with swords advanced and darts,
	We prove this very hour.

COMINIUS	Though I could wish
	You were conducted to a gentle bath
	And balms applied to, you, yet dare I never
	Deny your asking: take your choice of those
	That best can aid your action.

MARCIUS	Those are they
	That most are willing. If any such be here--
	As it were sin to doubt--that love this painting
	Wherein you see me smear'd; if any fear
	Lesser his person than an ill report;
	If any think brave death outweighs bad life
	And that his country's dearer than himself;
	Let him alone, or so many so minded,
	Wave thus, to express his disposition,
	And follow Marcius.

	[They all shout and wave their swords, take him up in
	their arms, and cast up their caps]

	O, me alone! make you a sword of me?
	If these shows be not outward, which of you
	But is four Volsces? none of you but is
	Able to bear against the great Aufidius
	A shield as hard as his. A certain number,
	Though thanks to all, must I select
	from all: the rest
	Shall bear the business in some other fight,
	As cause will be obey'd. Please you to march;
	And four shall quickly draw out my command,
	Which men are best inclined.

COMINIUS	March on, my fellows:
	Make good this ostentation, and you shall
	Divide in all with us.

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT I



SCENE VII	The gates of Corioli.


	[TITUS LARTIUS, having set a guard upon
	Corioli, going with drum and trumpet toward
	COMINIUS and CAIUS MARCIUS, enters with
	Lieutenant, other Soldiers, and a Scout]

LARTIUS	So, let the ports be guarded: keep your duties,
	As I have set them down. If I do send, dispatch
	Those centuries to our aid: the rest will serve
	For a short holding: if we lose the field,
	We cannot keep the town.

Lieutenant	Fear not our care, sir.

LARTIUS	Hence, and shut your gates upon's.
	Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct us.

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT I



SCENE VIII	A field of battle.


	[Alarum as in battle. Enter, from opposite sides,
	MARCIUS and AUFIDIUS]

MARCIUS	I'll fight with none but thee; for I do hate thee
	Worse than a promise-breaker.

AUFIDIUS	We hate alike:
	Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor
	More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot.

MARCIUS	Let the first budger die the other's slave,
	And the gods doom him after!

AUFIDIUS	If I fly, Marcius,
	Holloa me like a hare.

MARCIUS	Within these three hours, Tullus,
	Alone I fought in your Corioli walls,
	And made what work I pleased: 'tis not my blood
	Wherein thou seest me mask'd; for thy revenge
	Wrench up thy power to the highest.

AUFIDIUS	Wert thou the Hector
	That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny,
	Thou shouldst not scape me here.

	[They fight, and certain Volsces come to the aid of
	AUFIDIUS. MARCIUS fights till they be driven in
	breathless]

	Officious, and not valiant, you have shamed me
	In your condemned seconds.

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT I



SCENE IX	The Roman camp.


	[Flourish. Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Flourish.
	Enter, from one side, COMINIUS with the Romans; from
	the other side, MARCIUS, with his arm in a scarf]

COMINIUS	If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work,
	Thou'ldst not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it
	Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles,
	Where great patricians shall attend and shrug,
	I' the end admire, where ladies shall be frighted,
	And, gladly quaked, hear more; where the
	dull tribunes,
	That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours,
	Shall say against their hearts 'We thank the gods
	Our Rome hath such a soldier.'
	Yet camest thou to a morsel of this feast,
	Having fully dined before.

	[Enter TITUS LARTIUS, with his power,
	from the pursuit]

LARTIUS	O general,
	Here is the steed, we the caparison:
	Hadst thou beheld--

MARCIUS	Pray now, no more: my mother,
	Who has a charter to extol her blood,
	When she does praise me grieves me. I have done
	As you have done; that's what I can; induced
	As you have been; that's for my country:
	He that has but effected his good will
	Hath overta'en mine act.

COMINIUS	You shall not be
	The grave of your deserving; Rome must know
	The value of her own: 'twere a concealment
	Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement,
	To hide your doings; and to silence that,
	Which, to the spire and top of praises vouch'd,
	Would seem but modest: therefore, I beseech you
	In sign of what you are, not to reward
	What you have done--before our army hear me.

MARCIUS	I have some wounds upon me, and they smart
	To hear themselves remember'd.

COMINIUS	Should they not,
	Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude,
	And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses,
	Whereof we have ta'en good and good store, of all
	The treasure in this field achieved and city,
	We render you the tenth, to be ta'en forth,
	Before the common distribution, at
	Your only choice.

MARCIUS	                  I thank you, general;
	But cannot make my heart consent to take
	A bribe to pay my sword: I do refuse it;
	And stand upon my common part with those
	That have beheld the doing.

	[A long flourish. They all cry 'Marcius! Marcius!'
	cast up their caps and lances: COMINIUS and LARTIUS
	stand bare]

MARCIUS	May these same instruments, which you profane,
	Never sound more! when drums and trumpets shall
	I' the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be
	Made all of false-faced soothing!
	When steel grows soft as the parasite's silk,
	Let him be made a coverture for the wars!
	No more, I say! For that I have not wash'd
	My nose that bled, or foil'd some debile wretch.--
	Which, without note, here's many else have done,--
	You shout me forth
	In acclamations hyperbolical;
	As if I loved my little should be dieted
	In praises sauced with lies.

COMINIUS	Too modest are you;
	More cruel to your good report than grateful
	To us that give you truly: by your patience,
	If 'gainst yourself you be incensed, we'll put you,
	Like one that means his proper harm, in manacles,
	Then reason safely with you. Therefore, be it known,
	As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius
	Wears this war's garland: in token of the which,
	My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him,
	With all his trim belonging; and from this time,
	For what he did before Corioli, call him,
	With all the applause and clamour of the host,
	CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS! Bear
	The addition nobly ever!

	[Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums]

All	Caius Marcius Coriolanus!

CORIOLANUS	I will go wash;
	And when my face is fair, you shall perceive
	Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thank you.
	I mean to stride your steed, and at all times
	To undercrest your good addition
	To the fairness of my power.

COMINIUS	So, to our tent;
	Where, ere we do repose us, we will write
	To Rome of our success. You, Titus Lartius,
	Must to Corioli back: send us to Rome
	The best, with whom we may articulate,
	For their own good and ours.

LARTIUS	I shall, my lord.

CORIOLANUS	The gods begin to mock me. I, that now
	Refused most princely gifts, am bound to beg
	Of my lord general.

COMINIUS	Take't; 'tis yours. What is't?

CORIOLANUS	I sometime lay here in Corioli
	At a poor man's house; he used me kindly:
	He cried to me; I saw him prisoner;
	But then Aufidius was within my view,
	And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you
	To give my poor host freedom.

COMINIUS	O, well begg'd!
	Were he the butcher of my son, he should
	Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus.

LARTIUS	Marcius, his name?

CORIOLANUS	                  By Jupiter! forgot.
	I am weary; yea, my memory is tired.
	Have we no wine here?

COMINIUS	Go we to our tent:
	The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time
	It should be look'd to: come.

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT I



SCENE X	The camp of the Volsces.


	[A flourish. Cornets. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS,
	bloody, with two or three Soldiers]

AUFIDIUS	The town is ta'en!

First Soldier	'Twill be deliver'd back on good condition.

AUFIDIUS	Condition!
	I would I were a Roman; for I cannot,
	Being a Volsce, be that I am. Condition!
	What good condition can a treaty find
	I' the part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius,
	I have fought with thee: so often hast thou beat me,
	And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter
	As often as we eat. By the elements,
	If e'er again I meet him beard to beard,
	He's mine, or I am his: mine emulation
	Hath not that honour in't it had; for where
	I thought to crush him in an equal force,
	True sword to sword, I'll potch at him some way
	Or wrath or craft may get him.

First Soldier	He's the devil.

AUFIDIUS	Bolder, though not so subtle. My valour's poison'd
	With only suffering stain by him; for him
	Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep nor sanctuary,
	Being naked, sick, nor fane nor Capitol,
	The prayers of priests nor times of sacrifice,
	Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up
	Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst
	My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it
	At home, upon my brother's guard, even there,
	Against the hospitable canon, would I
	Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to the city;
	Learn how 'tis held; and what they are that must
	Be hostages for Rome.

First Soldier	Will not you go?

AUFIDIUS	I am attended at the cypress grove: I pray you--
	'Tis south the city mills--bring me word thither
	How the world goes, that to the pace of it
	I may spur on my journey.

First Soldier	I shall, sir.

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT II



SCENE I	Rome. A public place.


	[Enter MENENIUS with the two Tribunes of the people,
	SICINIUS and BRUTUS.

MENENIUS	The augurer tells me we shall have news to-night.

BRUTUS	Good or bad?

MENENIUS	Not according to the prayer of the people, for they
	love not Marcius.

SICINIUS	Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.

MENENIUS	Pray you, who does the wolf love?

SICINIUS	The lamb.

MENENIUS	Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the
	noble Marcius.

BRUTUS	He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear.

MENENIUS	He's a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two
	are old men: tell me one thing that I shall ask you.

Both	Well, sir.

MENENIUS	In what enormity is Marcius poor in, that you two
	have not in abundance?

BRUTUS	He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all.

SICINIUS	Especially in pride.

BRUTUS	And topping all others in boasting.

MENENIUS	This is strange now: do you two know how you are
	censured here in the city, I mean of us o' the
	right-hand file? do you?

Both	Why, how are we censured?

MENENIUS	Because you talk of pride now,--will you not be angry?

Both	Well, well, sir, well.

MENENIUS	Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of
	occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience:
	give your dispositions the reins, and be angry at
	your pleasures; at the least if you take it as a
	pleasure to you in being so. You blame Marcius for
	being proud?

BRUTUS	We do it not alone, sir.

MENENIUS	I know you can do very little alone; for your helps
	are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous
	single: your abilities are too infant-like for
	doing much alone. You talk of pride: O that you
	could turn your eyes toward the napes of your necks,
	and make but an interior survey of your good selves!
	O that you could!

BRUTUS	What then, sir?

MENENIUS	Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting,
	proud, violent, testy magistrates, alias fools, as
	any in Rome.

SICINIUS	Menenius, you are known well enough too.

MENENIUS	I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that
	loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying
	Tiber in't; said to be something imperfect in
	favouring the first complaint; hasty and tinder-like
	upon too trivial motion; one that converses more
	with the buttock of the night than with the forehead
	of the morning: what I think I utter, and spend my
	malice in my breath. Meeting two such wealsmen as
	you are--I cannot call you Lycurguses--if the drink
	you give me touch my palate adversely, I make a
	crooked face at it. I can't say your worships have
	delivered the matter well, when I find the ass in
	compound with the major part of your syllables: and
	though I must be content to bear with those that say
	you are reverend grave men, yet they lie deadly that
	tell you you have good faces. If you see this in
	the map of my microcosm, follows it that I am known
	well enough too? what barm can your bisson
	conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be
	known well enough too?

BRUTUS	Come, sir, come, we know you well enough.

MENENIUS	You know neither me, yourselves nor any thing. You
	are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs: you
	wear out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing a
	cause between an orange wife and a fosset-seller;
	and then rejourn the controversy of three pence to a
	second day of audience. When you are hearing a
	matter between party and party, if you chance to be
	pinched with the colic, you make faces like
	mummers; set up the bloody flag against all
	patience; and, in roaring for a chamber-pot,
	dismiss the controversy bleeding the more entangled
	by your hearing: all the peace you make in their
	cause is, calling both the parties knaves. You are
	a pair of strange ones.

BRUTUS	Come, come, you are well understood to be a
	perfecter giber for the table than a necessary
	bencher in the Capitol.

MENENIUS	Our very priests must become mockers, if they shall
	encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are. When
	you speak best unto the purpose, it is not worth the
	wagging of your beards; and your beards deserve not
	so honourable a grave as to stuff a botcher's
	cushion, or to be entombed in an ass's pack-
	saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is proud;
	who in a cheap estimation, is worth predecessors
	since Deucalion, though peradventure some of the
	best of 'em were hereditary hangmen. God-den to
	your worships: more of your conversation would
	infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly
	plebeians: I will be bold to take my leave of you.

	[BRUTUS and SICINIUS go aside]

	[Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and VALERIA]

	How now, my as fair as noble ladies,--and the moon,
	were she earthly, no nobler,--whither do you follow
	your eyes so fast?

VOLUMNIA	Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches; for
	the love of Juno, let's go.

MENENIUS	Ha! Marcius coming home!

VOLUMNIA	Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most prosperous
	approbation.

MENENIUS	Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee. Hoo!
	Marcius coming home!


VOLUMNIA	|
	|  Nay,'tis true.
VIRGILIA	|


VOLUMNIA	Look, here's a letter from him: the state hath
	another, his wife another; and, I think, there's one
	at home for you.

MENENIUS	I will make my very house reel tonight: a letter for
	me!

VIRGILIA	Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw't.

MENENIUS	A letter for me! it gives me an estate of seven
	years' health; in which time I will make a lip at
	the physician: the most sovereign prescription in
	Galen is but empiricutic, and, to this preservative,
	of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he
	not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded.

VIRGILIA	O, no, no, no.

VOLUMNIA	O, he is wounded; I thank the gods for't.

MENENIUS	So do I too, if it be not too much: brings a'
	victory in his pocket? the wounds become him.

VOLUMNIA	On's brows: Menenius, he comes the third time home
	with the oaken garland.

MENENIUS	Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly?

VOLUMNIA	Titus Lartius writes, they fought together, but
	Aufidius got off.

MENENIUS	And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that:
	an he had stayed by him, I would not have been so
	fidiused for all the chests in Corioli, and the gold
	that's in them. Is the senate possessed of this?

VOLUMNIA	Good ladies, let's go. Yes, yes, yes; the senate
	has letters from the general, wherein he gives my
	son the whole name of the war: he hath in this
	action outdone his former deeds doubly

VALERIA	In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him.

MENENIUS	Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and not without his
	true purchasing.

VIRGILIA	The gods grant them true!

VOLUMNIA	True! pow, wow.

MENENIUS	True! I'll be sworn they are true.
	Where is he wounded?

	[To the Tribunes]

	God save your good worships! Marcius is coming
	home: he has more cause to be proud. Where is he wounded?

VOLUMNIA	I' the shoulder and i' the left arm there will be
	large cicatrices to show the people, when he shall
	stand for his place. He received in the repulse of
	Tarquin seven hurts i' the body.

MENENIUS	One i' the neck, and two i' the thigh,--there's
	nine that I know.

VOLUMNIA	He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five
	wounds upon him.

MENENIUS	Now it's twenty-seven: every gash was an enemy's grave.

	[A shout and flourish]

	Hark! the trumpets.

VOLUMNIA	These are the ushers of Marcius: before him he
	carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears:
	Death, that dark spirit, in 's nervy arm doth lie;
	Which, being advanced, declines, and then men die.

	[A sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter COMINIUS the
	general, and TITUS LARTIUS; between them, CORIOLANUS,
	crowned with an oaken garland; with Captains and
	Soldiers, and a Herald]

Herald	Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight
	Within Corioli gates: where he hath won,
	With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these
	In honour follows Coriolanus.
	Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!

	[Flourish]

All	Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!

CORIOLANUS	No more of this; it does offend my heart:
	Pray now, no more.

COMINIUS	                  Look, sir, your mother!

CORIOLANUS	O,
	You have, I know, petition'd all the gods
	For my prosperity!

	[Kneels]

VOLUMNIA	                  Nay, my good soldier, up;
	My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and
	By deed-achieving honour newly named,--
	What is it?--Coriolanus must I call thee?--
	But O, thy wife!

CORIOLANUS	                  My gracious silence, hail!
	Wouldst thou have laugh'd had I come coffin'd home,
	That weep'st to see me triumph? Ay, my dear,
	Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear,
	And mothers that lack sons.

MENENIUS	Now, the gods crown thee!

CORIOLANUS	And live you yet?

	[To VALERIA]
	O my sweet lady, pardon.

VOLUMNIA	I know not where to turn: O, welcome home:
	And welcome, general: and ye're welcome all.

MENENIUS	A hundred thousand welcomes. I could weep
	And I could laugh, I am light and heavy. Welcome.
	A curse begin at very root on's heart,
	That is not glad to see thee! You are three
	That Rome should dote on: yet, by the faith of men,
	We have some old crab-trees here
	at home that will not
	Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors:
	We call a nettle but a nettle and
	The faults of fools but folly.

COMINIUS	Ever right.

CORIOLANUS	Menenius ever, ever.

Herald	Give way there, and go on!

CORIOLANUS	[To VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA]  Your hand, and yours:
	Ere in our own house I do shade my head,
	The good patricians must be visited;
	From whom I have received not only greetings,
	But with them change of honours.

VOLUMNIA	I have lived
	To see inherited my very wishes
	And the buildings of my fancy: only
	There's one thing wanting, which I doubt not but
	Our Rome will cast upon thee.

CORIOLANUS	Know, good mother,
	I had rather be their servant in my way,
	Than sway with them in theirs.

COMINIUS	On, to the Capitol!

	[Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as before.
	BRUTUS and SICINIUS come forward]

BRUTUS	All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights
	Are spectacled to see him: your prattling nurse
	Into a rapture lets her baby cry
	While she chats him: the kitchen malkin pins
	Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck,
	Clambering the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks, windows,
	Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges horsed
	With variable complexions, all agreeing
	In earnestness to see him: seld-shown flamens
	Do press among the popular throngs and puff
	To win a vulgar station: or veil'd dames
	Commit the war of white and damask in
	Their nicely-gawded cheeks to the wanton spoil
	Of Phoebus' burning kisses: such a pother
	As if that whatsoever god who leads him
	Were slily crept into his human powers
	And gave him graceful posture.

SICINIUS	On the sudden,
	I warrant him consul.

BRUTUS	Then our office may,
	During his power, go sleep.

SICINIUS	He cannot temperately transport his honours
	From where he should begin and end, but will
	Lose those he hath won.

BRUTUS	In that there's comfort.

SICINIUS	Doubt not
	The commoners, for whom we stand, but they
	Upon their ancient malice will forget
	With the least cause these his new honours, which
	That he will give them make I as little question
	As he is proud to do't.

BRUTUS	I heard him swear,
	Were he to stand for consul, never would he
	Appear i' the market-place nor on him put
	The napless vesture of humility;
	Nor showing, as the manner is, his wounds
	To the people, beg their stinking breaths.

SICINIUS	'Tis right.

BRUTUS	It was his word: O, he would miss it rather
	Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to him,
	And the desire of the nobles.

SICINIUS	I wish no better
	Than have him hold that purpose and to put it
	In execution.

BRUTUS	'Tis most like he will.

SICINIUS	It shall be to him then as our good wills,
	A sure destruction.

BRUTUS	So it must fall out
	To him or our authorities. For an end,
	We must suggest the people in what hatred
	He still hath held them; that to's power he would
	Have made them mules, silenced their pleaders and
	Dispropertied their freedoms, holding them,
	In human action and capacity,
	Of no more soul nor fitness for the world
	Than camels in the war, who have their provand
	Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows
	For sinking under them.

SICINIUS	This, as you say, suggested
	At some time when his soaring insolence
	Shall touch the people--which time shall not want,
	If he be put upon 't; and that's as easy
	As to set dogs on sheep--will be his fire
	To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze
	Shall darken him for ever.

	[Enter a Messenger]

BRUTUS	What's the matter?

Messenger	You are sent for to the Capitol. 'Tis thought
	That Marcius shall be consul:
	I have seen the dumb men throng to see him and
	The blind to bear him speak: matrons flung gloves,
	Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchers,
	Upon him as he pass'd: the nobles bended,
	As to Jove's statue, and the commons made
	A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts:
	I never saw the like.

BRUTUS	Let's to the Capitol;
	And carry with us ears and eyes for the time,
	But hearts for the event.

SICINIUS	Have with you.

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT II



SCENE  II	The same. The Capitol.


	[Enter two Officers, to lay cushions]

First Officer	Come, come, they are almost here. How many stand
	for consulships?

Second Officer	Three, they say: but 'tis thought of every one
	Coriolanus will carry it.

First Officer	That's a brave fellow; but he's vengeance proud, and
	loves not the common people.

Second Officer	Faith, there had been many great men that have
	flattered the people, who ne'er loved them; and there
	be many that they have loved, they know not
	wherefore: so that, if they love they know not why,
	they hate upon no better a ground: therefore, for
	Coriolanus neither to care whether they love or hate
	him manifests the true knowledge he has in their
	disposition; and out of his noble carelessness lets
	them plainly see't.

First Officer	If he did not care whether he had their love or no,
	he waved indifferently 'twixt doing them neither
	good nor harm: but he seeks their hate with greater
	devotion than can render it him; and leaves
	nothing undone that may fully discover him their
	opposite. Now, to seem to affect the malice and
	displeasure of the people is as bad as that which he
	dislikes, to flatter them for their love.

Second Officer	He hath deserved worthily of his country: and his
	ascent is not by such easy degrees as those who,
	having been supple and courteous to the people,
	bonneted, without any further deed to have them at
	an into their estimation and report: but he hath so
	planted his honours in their eyes, and his actions
	in their hearts, that for their tongues to be
	silent, and not confess so much, were a kind of
	ingrateful injury; to report otherwise, were a
	malice, that, giving itself the lie, would pluck
	reproof and rebuke from every ear that heard it.

First Officer	No more of him; he is a worthy man: make way, they
	are coming.

	[A sennet. Enter, with actors before them, COMINIUS
	the consul, MENENIUS, CORIOLANUS, Senators,
	SICINIUS and BRUTUS. The Senators take their
	places; the Tribunes take their Places by
	themselves. CORIOLANUS stands]

MENENIUS	Having determined of the Volsces and
	To send for Titus Lartius, it remains,
	As the main point of this our after-meeting,
	To gratify his noble service that
	Hath thus stood for his country: therefore,
	please you,
	Most reverend and grave elders, to desire
	The present consul, and last general
	In our well-found successes, to report
	A little of that worthy work perform'd
	By Caius Marcius Coriolanus, whom
	We met here both to thank and to remember
	With honours like himself.

First Senator	Speak, good Cominius:
	Leave nothing out for length, and make us think
	Rather our state's defective for requital
	Than we to stretch it out.

	[To the Tribunes]

		     Masters o' the people,
	We do request your kindest ears, and after,
	Your loving motion toward the common body,
	To yield what passes here.

SICINIUS	We are convented
	Upon a pleasing treaty, and have hearts
	Inclinable to honour and advance
	The theme of our assembly.

BRUTUS	Which the rather
	We shall be blest to do, if he remember
	A kinder value of the people than
	He hath hereto prized them at.

MENENIUS	That's off, that's off;
	I would you rather had been silent. Please you
	To hear Cominius speak?

BRUTUS	Most willingly;
	But yet my caution was more pertinent
	Than the rebuke you give it.

MENENIUS	He loves your people
	But tie him not to be their bedfellow.
	Worthy Cominius, speak.

	[CORIOLANUS offers to go away]

		  Nay, keep your place.

First Senator	Sit, Coriolanus; never shame to hear
	What you have nobly done.

CORIOLANUS	Your horror's pardon:
	I had rather have my wounds to heal again
	Than hear say how I got them.

BRUTUS	Sir, I hope
	My words disbench'd you not.

CORIOLANUS	No, sir: yet oft,
	When blows have made me stay, I fled from words.
	You soothed not, therefore hurt not: but
	your people,
	I love them as they weigh.

MENENIUS	Pray now, sit down.

CORIOLANUS	I had rather have one scratch my head i' the sun
	When the alarum were struck than idly sit
	To hear my nothings monster'd.

	[Exit]

MENENIUS	Masters of the people,
	Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter--
	That's thousand to one good one--when you now see
	He had rather venture all his limbs for honour
	Than one on's ears to hear it? Proceed, Cominius.

COMINIUS	I shall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus
	Should not be utter'd feebly. It is held
	That valour is the chiefest virtue, and
	Most dignifies the haver: if it be,
	The man I speak of cannot in the world
	Be singly counterpoised. At sixteen years,
	When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought
	Beyond the mark of others: our then dictator,
	Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight,
	When with his Amazonian chin he drove
	The bristled lips before him: be bestrid
	An o'er-press'd Roman and i' the consul's view
	Slew three opposers: Tarquin's self he met,
	And struck him on his knee: in that day's feats,
	When he might act the woman in the scene,
	He proved best man i' the field, and for his meed
	Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age
	Man-enter'd thus, he waxed like a sea,
	And in the brunt of seventeen battles since
	He lurch'd all swords of the garland. For this last,
	Before and in Corioli, let me say,
	I cannot speak him home: he stopp'd the fliers;
	And by his rare example made the coward
	Turn terror into sport: as weeds before
	A vessel under sail, so men obey'd
	And fell below his stem: his sword, death's stamp,
	Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot
	He was a thing of blood, whose every motion
	Was timed with dying cries: alone he enter'd
	The mortal gate of the city, which he painted
	With shunless destiny; aidless came off,
	And with a sudden reinforcement struck
	Corioli like a planet: now all's his:
	When, by and by, the din of war gan pierce
	His ready sense; then straight his doubled spirit
	Re-quicken'd what in flesh was fatigate,
	And to the battle came he; where he did
	Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if
	'Twere a perpetual spoil: and till we call'd
	Both field and city ours, he never stood
	To ease his breast with panting.

MENENIUS	Worthy man!

First Senator	He cannot but with measure fit the honours
	Which we devise him.

COMINIUS	Our spoils he kick'd at,
	And look'd upon things precious as they were
	The common muck of the world: he covets less
	Than misery itself would give; rewards
	His deeds with doing them, and is content
	To spend the time to end it.

MENENIUS	He's right noble:
	Let him be call'd for.

First Senator	Call Coriolanus.

Officer	He doth appear.

	[Re-enter CORIOLANUS]

MENENIUS	The senate, Coriolanus, are well pleased
	To make thee consul.

CORIOLANUS	I do owe them still
	My life and services.

MENENIUS	It then remains
	That you do speak to the people.

CORIOLANUS	I do beseech you,
	Let me o'erleap that custom, for I cannot
	Put on the gown, stand naked and entreat them,
	For my wounds' sake, to give their suffrage: please you
	That I may pass this doing.

SICINIUS	Sir, the people
	Must have their voices; neither will they bate
	One jot of ceremony.

MENENIUS	Put them not to't:
	Pray you, go fit you to the custom and
	Take to you, as your predecessors have,
	Your honour with your form.

CORIOLANUS	It is apart
	That I shall blush in acting, and might well
	Be taken from the people.

BRUTUS	Mark you that?

CORIOLANUS	To brag unto them, thus I did, and thus;
	Show them the unaching scars which I should hide,
	As if I had received them for the hire
	Of their breath only!

MENENIUS	Do not stand upon't.
	We recommend to you, tribunes of the people,
	Our purpose to them: and to our noble consul
	Wish we all joy and honour.

Senators	To Coriolanus come all joy and honour!

	[Flourish of cornets. Exeunt all but SICINIUS
	and BRUTUS]

BRUTUS	You see how he intends to use the people.

SICINIUS	May they perceive's intent! He will require them,
	As if he did contemn what he requested
	Should be in them to give.

BRUTUS	Come, we'll inform them
	Of our proceedings here: on the marketplace,
	I know, they do attend us.

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT II



SCENE III	The same. The Forum.


	[Enter seven or eight Citizens]

First Citizen	Once, if he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him.

Second Citizen	We may, sir, if we will.

Third Citizen	We have power in ourselves to do it, but it is a
	power that we have no power to do; for if he show us
	his wounds and tell us his deeds, we are to put our
	tongues into those wounds and speak for them; so, if
	he tell us his noble deeds, we must also tell him
	our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is
	monstrous, and for the multitude to be ingrateful,
	were to make a monster of the multitude: of the
	which we being members, should bring ourselves to be
	monstrous members.

First Citizen	And to make us no better thought of, a little help
	will serve; for once we stood up about the corn, he
	himself stuck not to call us the many-headed multitude.

Third Citizen	We have been called so of many; not that our heads
	are some brown, some black, some auburn, some bald,
	but that our wits are so diversely coloured: and
	truly I think if all our wits were to issue out of
	one skull, they would fly east, west, north, south,
	and their consent of one direct way should be at
	once to all the points o' the compass.

Second Citizen	Think you so? Which way do you judge my wit would
	fly?

Third Citizen	Nay, your wit will not so soon out as another man's
	will;'tis strongly wedged up in a block-head, but
	if it were at liberty, 'twould, sure, southward.

Second Citizen	Why that way?

Third Citizen	To lose itself in a fog, where being three parts
	melted away with rotten dews, the fourth would return
	for conscience sake, to help to get thee a wife.

Second Citizen	You are never without your tricks: you may, you may.

Third Citizen	Are you all resolved to give your voices? But
	that's no matter, the greater part carries it. I
	say, if he would incline to the people, there was
	never a worthier man.

	[Enter CORIOLANUS in a gown of humility,
	with MENENIUS]

	Here he comes, and in the gown of humility: mark his
	behavior. We are not to stay all together, but to
	come by him where he stands, by ones, by twos, and
	by threes. He's to make his requests by
	particulars; wherein every one of us has a single
	honour, in giving him our own voices with our own
	tongues: therefore follow me, and I direct you how
	you shall go by him.

All	Content, content.

	[Exeunt Citizens]

MENENIUS	O sir, you are not right: have you not known
	The worthiest men have done't?

CORIOLANUS	What must I say?
	'I Pray, sir'--Plague upon't! I cannot bring
	My tongue to such a pace:--'Look, sir, my wounds!
	I got them in my country's service, when
	Some certain of your brethren roar'd and ran
	From the noise of our own drums.'

MENENIUS	O me, the gods!
	You must not speak of that: you must desire them
	To think upon you.

CORIOLANUS	                  Think upon me! hang 'em!
	I would they would forget me, like the virtues
	Which our divines lose by 'em.

MENENIUS	You'll mar all:
	I'll leave you: pray you, speak to 'em, I pray you,
	In wholesome manner.

	[Exit]

CORIOLANUS	Bid them wash their faces
	And keep their teeth clean.

	[Re-enter two of the Citizens]

		      So, here comes a brace.

	[Re-enter a third Citizen]

	You know the cause, air, of my standing here.

Third Citizen	We do, sir; tell us what hath brought you to't.

CORIOLANUS	Mine own desert.

Second Citizen	Your own desert!

CORIOLANUS	Ay, but not mine own desire.

Third Citizen	How not your own desire?

CORIOLANUS	No, sir,'twas never my desire yet to trouble the
	poor with begging.

Third Citizen	You must think, if we give you any thing, we hope to
	gain by you.

CORIOLANUS	Well then, I pray, your price o' the consulship?

First Citizen	The price is to ask it kindly.

CORIOLANUS	Kindly! Sir, I pray, let me ha't: I have wounds to
	show you, which shall be yours in private. Your
	good voice, sir; what say you?

Second Citizen	You shall ha' it, worthy sir.

CORIOLANUS	A match, sir. There's in all two worthy voices
	begged. I have your alms: adieu.

Third Citizen	But this is something odd.

Second Citizen	An 'twere to give again,--but 'tis no matter.

	[Exeunt the three Citizens]

	[Re-enter two other Citizens]

CORIOLANUS	Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your
	voices that I may be consul, I have here the
	customary gown.

Fourth Citizen	You have deserved nobly of your country, and you
	have not deserved nobly.

CORIOLANUS	Your enigma?

Fourth Citizen	You have been a scourge to her enemies, you have
	been a rod to her friends; you have not indeed loved
	the common people.

CORIOLANUS	You should account me the more virtuous that I have
	not been common in my love. I will, sir, flatter my
	sworn brother, the people, to earn a dearer
	estimation of them; 'tis a condition they account
	gentle: and since the wisdom of their choice is
	rather to have my hat than my heart, I will practise
	the insinuating nod and be off to them most
	counterfeitly; that is, sir, I will counterfeit the
	bewitchment of some popular man and give it
	bountiful to the desirers. Therefore, beseech you,
	I may be consul.

Fifth Citizen	We hope to find you our friend; and therefore give
	you our voices heartily.

Fourth Citizen	You have received many wounds for your country.

CORIOLANUS	I will not seal your knowledge with showing them. I
	will make much of your voices, and so trouble you no further.

Both Citizens	The gods give you joy, sir, heartily!

	[Exeunt]

CORIOLANUS	Most sweet voices!
	Better it is to die, better to starve,
	Than crave the hire which first we do deserve.
	Why in this woolvish toge should I stand here,
	To beg of Hob and Dick, that do appear,
	Their needless vouches? Custom calls me to't:
	What custom wills, in all things should we do't,
	The dust on antique time would lie unswept,
	And mountainous error be too highly heapt
	For truth to o'er-peer. Rather than fool it so,
	Let the high office and the honour go
	To one that would do thus. I am half through;
	The one part suffer'd, the other will I do.

	[Re-enter three Citizens more]

	Here come more voices.
	Your voices: for your voices I have fought;
	Watch'd for your voices; for Your voices bear
	Of wounds two dozen odd; battles thrice six
	I have seen and heard of; for your voices have
	Done many things, some less, some more your voices:
	Indeed I would be consul.

Sixth Citizen	He has done nobly, and cannot go without any honest
	man's voice.

Seventh Citizen	Therefore let him be consul: the gods give him joy,
	and make him good friend to the people!

All Citizens	Amen, amen. God save thee, noble consul!

	[Exeunt]

CORIOLANUS	Worthy voices!

	[Re-enter MENENIUS, with BRUTUS and SICINIUS]

MENENIUS	You have stood your limitation; and the tribunes
	Endue you with the people's voice: remains
	That, in the official marks invested, you
	Anon do meet the senate.

CORIOLANUS	Is this done?

SICINIUS	The custom of request you have discharged:
	The people do admit you, and are summon'd
	To meet anon, upon your approbation.

CORIOLANUS	Where? at the senate-house?

SICINIUS	There, Coriolanus.

CORIOLANUS	May I change these garments?

SICINIUS	You may, sir.

CORIOLANUS	That I'll straight do; and, knowing myself again,
	Repair to the senate-house.

MENENIUS	I'll keep you company. Will you along?

BRUTUS	We stay here for the people.

SICINIUS	Fare you well.

	[Exeunt CORIOLANUS and MENENIUS]

	He has it now, and by his looks methink
	'Tis warm at 's heart.

BRUTUS	With a proud heart he wore his humble weeds.
	will you dismiss the people?

	[Re-enter Citizens]

SICINIUS	How now, my masters! have you chose this man?

First Citizen	He has our voices, sir.

BRUTUS	We pray the gods he may deserve your loves.

Second Citizen	Amen, sir: to my poor unworthy notice,
	He mock'd us when he begg'd our voices.

Third Citizen	Certainly
	He flouted us downright.

First Citizen	No,'tis his kind of speech: he did not mock us.

Second Citizen	Not one amongst us, save yourself, but says
	He used us scornfully: he should have show'd us
	His marks of merit, wounds received for's country.

SICINIUS	Why, so he did, I am sure.

Citizens	No, no; no man saw 'em.

Third Citizen	He said he had wounds, which he could show
	in private;
	And with his hat, thus waving it in scorn,
	'I would be consul,' says he: 'aged custom,
	But by your voices, will not so permit me;
	Your voices therefore.' When we granted that,
	Here was 'I thank you for your voices: thank you:
	Your most sweet voices: now you have left
	your voices,
	I have no further with you.' Was not this mockery?

SICINIUS	Why either were you ignorant to see't,
	Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness
	To yield your voices?

BRUTUS	Could you not have told him
	As you were lesson'd, when he had no power,
	But was a petty servant to the state,
	He was your enemy, ever spake against
	Your liberties and the charters that you bear
	I' the body of the weal; and now, arriving
	A place of potency and sway o' the state,
	If he should still malignantly remain
	Fast foe to the plebeii, your voices might
	Be curses to yourselves? You should have said
	That as his worthy deeds did claim no less
	Than what he stood for, so his gracious nature
	Would think upon you for your voices and
	Translate his malice towards you into love,
	Standing your friendly lord.

SICINIUS	Thus to have said,
	As you were fore-advised, had touch'd his spirit
	And tried his inclination; from him pluck'd
	Either his gracious promise, which you might,
	As cause had call'd you up, have held him to
	Or else it would have gall'd his surly nature,
	Which easily endures not article
	Tying him to aught; so putting him to rage,
	You should have ta'en the advantage of his choler
	And pass'd him unelected.

BRUTUS	Did you perceive
	He did solicit you in free contempt
	When he did need your loves, and do you think
	That his contempt shall not be bruising to you,
	When he hath power to crush? Why, had your bodies
	No heart among you? or had you tongues to cry
	Against the rectorship of judgment?

SICINIUS	Have you
	Ere now denied the asker? and now again
	Of him that did not ask, but mock, bestow
	Your sued-for tongues?

Third Citizen	He's not confirm'd; we may deny him yet.

Second Citizen	And will deny him:
	I'll have five hundred voices of that sound.

First Citizen	I twice five hundred and their friends to piece 'em.

BRUTUS	Get you hence instantly, and tell those friends,
	They have chose a consul that will from them take
	Their liberties; make them of no more voice
	Than dogs that are as often beat for barking
	As therefore kept to do so.

SICINIUS	Let them assemble,
	And on a safer judgment all revoke
	Your ignorant election; enforce his pride,
	And his old hate unto you; besides, forget not
	With what contempt he wore the humble weed,
	How in his suit he scorn'd you; but your loves,
	Thinking upon his services, took from you
	The apprehension of his present portance,
	Which most gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion
	After the inveterate hate he bears you.

BRUTUS	Lay
	A fault on us, your tribunes; that we laboured,
	No impediment between, but that you must
	Cast your election on him.

SICINIUS	Say, you chose him
	More after our commandment than as guided
	By your own true affections, and that your minds,
	Preoccupied with what you rather must do
	Than what you should, made you against the grain
	To voice him consul: lay the fault on us.

BRUTUS	Ay, spare us not. Say we read lectures to you.
	How youngly he began to serve his country,
	How long continued, and what stock he springs of,
	The noble house o' the Marcians, from whence came
	That Ancus Marcius, Numa's daughter's son,
	Who, after great Hostilius, here was king;
	Of the same house Publius and Quintus were,
	That our beat water brought by conduits hither;
	And  [Censorinus,]  nobly named so,
	Twice being  [by the people chosen]  censor,
	Was his great ancestor.

SICINIUS	One thus descended,
	That hath beside well in his person wrought
	To be set high in place, we did commend
	To your remembrances: but you have found,
	Scaling his present bearing with his past,
	That he's your fixed enemy, and revoke
	Your sudden approbation.

BRUTUS	Say, you ne'er had done't--
	Harp on that still--but by our putting on;
	And presently, when you have drawn your number,
	Repair to the Capitol.

All	We will so: almost all
	Repent in their election.

	[Exeunt Citizens]

BRUTUS	Let them go on;
	This mutiny were better put in hazard,
	Than stay, past doubt, for greater:
	If, as his nature is, he fall in rage
	With their refusal, both observe and answer
	The vantage of his anger.

SICINIUS	To the Capitol, come:
	We will be there before the stream o' the people;
	And this shall seem, as partly 'tis, their own,
	Which we have goaded onward.

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT III



SCENE I	Rome. A street.


	[Cornets. Enter CORIOLANUS, MENENIUS, all the
	Gentry, COMINIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, and other Senators]

CORIOLANUS	Tullus Aufidius then had made new head?

LARTIUS	He had, my lord; and that it was which caused
	Our swifter composition.

CORIOLANUS	So then the Volsces stand but as at first,
	Ready, when time shall prompt them, to make road.
	Upon's again.

COMINIUS	They are worn, lord consul, so,
	That we shall hardly in our ages see
	Their banners wave again.

CORIOLANUS	Saw you Aufidius?

LARTIUS	On safe-guard he came to me; and did curse
	Against the Volsces, for they had so vilely
	Yielded the town: he is retired to Antium.

CORIOLANUS	Spoke he of me?

LARTIUS	                  He did, my lord.

CORIOLANUS	How? what?

LARTIUS	How often he had met you, sword to sword;
	That of all things upon the earth he hated
	Your person most, that he would pawn his fortunes
	To hopeless restitution, so he might
	Be call'd your vanquisher.

CORIOLANUS	At Antium lives he?

LARTIUS	At Antium.

CORIOLANUS	I wish I had a cause to seek him there,
	To oppose his hatred fully. Welcome home.

	[Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS]

	Behold, these are the tribunes of the people,
	The tongues o' the common mouth: I do despise them;
	For they do prank them in authority,
	Against all noble sufferance.

SICINIUS	Pass no further.

CORIOLANUS	Ha! what is that?

BRUTUS	It will be dangerous to go on: no further.

CORIOLANUS	What makes this change?

MENENIUS	The matter?

COMINIUS	Hath he not pass'd the noble and the common?

BRUTUS	Cominius, no.

CORIOLANUS	                  Have I had children's voices?

First Senator	Tribunes, give way; he shall to the market-place.

BRUTUS	The people are incensed against him.

SICINIUS	Stop,
	Or all will fall in broil.

CORIOLANUS	Are these your herd?
	Must these have voices, that can yield them now
	And straight disclaim their tongues? What are
	your offices?
	You being their mouths, why rule you not their teeth?
	Have you not set them on?

MENENIUS	Be calm, be calm.

CORIOLANUS	It is a purposed thing, and grows by plot,
	To curb the will of the nobility:
	Suffer't, and live with such as cannot rule
	Nor ever will be ruled.

BRUTUS	Call't not a plot:
	The people cry you mock'd them, and of late,
	When corn was given them gratis, you repined;
	Scandal'd the suppliants for the people, call'd them
	Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness.

CORIOLANUS	Why, this was known before.

BRUTUS	Not to them all.

CORIOLANUS	Have you inform'd them sithence?

BRUTUS	How! I inform them!

CORIOLANUS	You are like to do such business.

BRUTUS	Not unlike,
	Each way, to better yours.

CORIOLANUS	Why then should I be consul? By yond clouds,
	Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me
	Your fellow tribune.

SICINIUS	You show too much of that
	For which the people stir: if you will pass
	To where you are bound, you must inquire your way,
	Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit,
	Or never be so noble as a consul,
	Nor yoke with him for tribune.

MENENIUS	Let's be calm.

COMINIUS	The people are abused; set on. This paltering
	Becomes not Rome, nor has Coriolanus
	Deserved this so dishonour'd rub, laid falsely
	I' the plain way of his merit.

CORIOLANUS	Tell me of corn!
	This was my speech, and I will speak't again--

MENENIUS	Not now, not now.

First Senator	                  Not in this heat, sir, now.

CORIOLANUS	Now, as I live, I will. My nobler friends,
	I crave their pardons:
	For the mutable, rank-scented many, let them
	Regard me as I do not flatter, and
	Therein behold themselves: I say again,
	In soothing them, we nourish 'gainst our senate
	The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition,
	Which we ourselves have plough'd for, sow'd,
	and scatter'd,
	By mingling them with us, the honour'd number,
	Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that
	Which they have given to beggars.

MENENIUS	Well, no more.

First Senator	No more words, we beseech you.

CORIOLANUS	How! no more!
	As for my country I have shed my blood,
	Not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs
	Coin words till their decay against those measles,
	Which we disdain should tatter us, yet sought
	The very way to catch them.

BRUTUS	You speak o' the people,
	As if you were a god to punish, not
	A man of their infirmity.

SICINIUS	'Twere well
	We let the people know't.

MENENIUS	What, what? his choler?

CORIOLANUS	Choler!
	Were I as patient as the midnight sleep,
	By Jove, 'twould be my mind!

SICINIUS	It is a mind
	That shall remain a poison where it is,
	Not poison any further.

CORIOLANUS	Shall remain!
	Hear you this Triton of the minnows? mark you
	His absolute 'shall'?

COMINIUS	'Twas from the canon.

CORIOLANUS	'Shall'!
	O good but most unwise patricians! why,
	You grave but reckless senators, have you thus
	Given Hydra here to choose an officer,
	That with his peremptory 'shall,' being but
	The horn and noise o' the monster's, wants not spirit
	To say he'll turn your current in a ditch,
	And make your channel his? If he have power
	Then vail your ignorance; if none, awake
	Your dangerous lenity. If you are learn'd,
	Be not as common fools; if you are not,
	Let them have cushions by you. You are plebeians,
	If they be senators: and they are no less,
	When, both your voices blended, the great'st taste
	Most palates theirs. They choose their magistrate,
	And such a one as he, who puts his 'shall,'
	His popular 'shall' against a graver bench
	Than ever frown in Greece. By Jove himself!
	It makes the consuls base: and my soul aches
	To know, when two authorities are up,
	Neither supreme, how soon confusion
	May enter 'twixt the gap of both and take
	The one by the other.

COMINIUS	Well, on to the market-place.

CORIOLANUS	Whoever gave that counsel, to give forth
	The corn o' the storehouse gratis, as 'twas used
	Sometime in Greece,--

MENENIUS	Well, well, no more of that.

CORIOLANUS	Though there the people had more absolute power,
	I say, they nourish'd disobedience, fed
	The ruin of the state.

BRUTUS	Why, shall the people give
	One that speaks thus their voice?

CORIOLANUS	I'll give my reasons,
	More worthier than their voices. They know the corn
	Was not our recompense, resting well assured
	That ne'er did service for't: being press'd to the war,
	Even when the navel of the state was touch'd,
	They would not thread the gates. This kind of service
	Did not deserve corn gratis. Being i' the war
	Their mutinies and revolts, wherein they show'd
	Most valour, spoke not for them: the accusation
	Which they have often made against the senate,
	All cause unborn, could never be the motive
	Of our so frank donation. Well, what then?
	How shall this bisson multitude digest
	The senate's courtesy? Let deeds express
	What's like to be their words: 'we did request it;
	We are the greater poll, and in true fear
	They gave us our demands.' Thus we debase
	The nature of our seats and make the rabble
	Call our cares fears; which will in time
	Break ope the locks o' the senate and bring in
	The crows to peck the eagles.

MENENIUS	Come, enough.

BRUTUS	Enough, with over-measure.

CORIOLANUS	No, take more:
	What may be sworn by, both divine and human,
	Seal what I end withal! This double worship,
	Where one part does disdain with cause, the other
	Insult without all reason, where gentry, title, wisdom,
	Cannot conclude but by the yea and no
	Of general ignorance,--it must omit
	Real necessities, and give way the while
	To unstable slightness: purpose so barr'd,
	it follows,
	Nothing is done to purpose. Therefore, beseech you,--
	You that will be less fearful than discreet,
	That love the fundamental part of state
	More than you doubt the change on't, that prefer
	A noble life before a long, and wish
	To jump a body with a dangerous physic
	That's sure of death without it, at once pluck out
	The multitudinous tongue; let them not lick
	The sweet which is their poison: your dishonour
	Mangles true judgment and bereaves the state
	Of that integrity which should become't,
	Not having the power to do the good it would,
	For the in which doth control't.

BRUTUS	Has said enough.

SICINIUS	Has spoken like a traitor, and shall answer
	As traitors do.

CORIOLANUS	                  Thou wretch, despite o'erwhelm thee!
	What should the people do with these bald tribunes?
	On whom depending, their obedience fails
	To the greater bench: in a rebellion,
	When what's not meet, but what must be, was law,
	Then were they chosen: in a better hour,
	Let what is meet be said it must be meet,
	And throw their power i' the dust.

BRUTUS	Manifest treason!

SICINIUS	                  This a consul? no.

BRUTUS	The aediles, ho!

	[Enter an AEdile]

	Let him be apprehended.

SICINIUS	Go, call the people:

	[Exit AEdile]

		in whose name myself
	Attach thee as a traitorous innovator,
	A foe to the public weal: obey, I charge thee,
	And follow to thine answer.

CORIOLANUS	Hence, old goat!

Senators, &C	We'll surety him.

COMINIUS	                  Aged sir, hands off.

CORIOLANUS	Hence, rotten thing! or I shall shake thy bones
	Out of thy garments.

SICINIUS	Help, ye citizens!

	[Enter a rabble of Citizens (Plebeians), with
	the AEdiles]

MENENIUS	On both sides more respect.

SICINIUS	Here's he that would take from you all your power.

BRUTUS	Seize him, AEdiles!

Citizens	Down with him! down with him!

Senators, &C	Weapons, weapons, weapons!

	[They all bustle about CORIOLANUS, crying]

	'Tribunes!' 'Patricians!' 'Citizens!' 'What, ho!'
	'Sicinius!' 'Brutus!' 'Coriolanus!' 'Citizens!'
	'Peace, peace, peace!' 'Stay, hold, peace!'

MENENIUS	What is about to be? I am out of breath;
	Confusion's near; I cannot speak. You, tribunes
	To the people! Coriolanus, patience!
	Speak, good Sicinius.

SICINIUS	Hear me, people; peace!

Citizens	Let's hear our tribune: peace Speak, speak, speak.

SICINIUS	You are at point to lose your liberties:
	Marcius would have all from you; Marcius,
	Whom late you have named for consul.

MENENIUS	Fie, fie, fie!
	This is the way to kindle, not to quench.

First Senator	To unbuild the city and to lay all flat.

SICINIUS	What is the city but the people?

Citizens	True,
	The people are the city.

BRUTUS	By the consent of all, we were establish'd
	The people's magistrates.

Citizens	You so remain.

MENENIUS	And so are like to do.

COMINIUS	That is the way to lay the city flat;
	To bring the roof to the foundation,
	And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges,
	In heaps and piles of ruin.

SICINIUS	This deserves death.

BRUTUS	Or let us stand to our authority,
	Or let us lose it. We do here pronounce,
	Upon the part o' the people, in whose power
	We were elected theirs, Marcius is worthy
	Of present death.

SICINIUS	                  Therefore lay hold of him;
	Bear him to the rock Tarpeian, and from thence
	Into destruction cast him.

BRUTUS	AEdiles, seize him!

Citizens	Yield, Marcius, yield!

MENENIUS	Hear me one word;
	Beseech you, tribunes, hear me but a word.

AEdile	Peace, peace!

MENENIUS	[To BRUTUS]  Be that you seem, truly your
	country's friend,
	And temperately proceed to what you would
	Thus violently redress.

BRUTUS	Sir, those cold ways,
	That seem like prudent helps, are very poisonous
	Where the disease is violent. Lay hands upon him,
	And bear him to the rock.

CORIOLANUS	No, I'll die here.

	[Drawing his sword]

	There's some among you have beheld me fighting:
	Come, try upon yourselves what you have seen me.

MENENIUS	Down with that sword! Tribunes, withdraw awhile.

BRUTUS	Lay hands upon him.

COMINIUS	Help Marcius, help,
	You that be noble; help him, young and old!

Citizens	Down with him, down with him!

	[In this mutiny, the Tribunes, the AEdiles, and the
	People, are beat in]

MENENIUS	Go, get you to your house; be gone, away!
	All will be naught else.

Second Senator	Get you gone.

COMINIUS	Stand fast;
	We have as many friends as enemies.

MENENIUS	Sham it be put to that?

First Senator	The gods forbid!
	I prithee, noble friend, home to thy house;
	Leave us to cure this cause.

MENENIUS	For 'tis a sore upon us,
	You cannot tent yourself: be gone, beseech you.

COMINIUS	Come, sir, along with us.

CORIOLANUS	I would they were barbarians--as they are,
	Though in Rome litter'd--not Romans--as they are not,
	Though calved i' the porch o' the Capitol--

MENENIUS	Be gone;
	Put not your worthy rage into your tongue;
	One time will owe another.

CORIOLANUS	On fair ground
	I could beat forty of them.

COMINIUS	I could myself
	Take up a brace o' the best of them; yea, the
	two tribunes:
	But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic;
	And manhood is call'd foolery, when it stands
	Against a falling fabric. Will you hence,
	Before the tag return? whose rage doth rend
	Like interrupted waters and o'erbear
	What they are used to bear.

MENENIUS	Pray you, be gone:
	I'll try whether my old wit be in request
	With those that have but little: this must be patch'd
	With cloth of any colour.

COMINIUS	Nay, come away.

	[Exeunt CORIOLANUS, COMINIUS, and others]

A Patrician	This man has marr'd his fortune.

MENENIUS	His nature is too noble for the world:
	He would not flatter Neptune for his trident,
	Or Jove for's power to thunder. His heart's his mouth:
	What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent;
	And, being angry, does forget that ever
	He heard the name of death.

	[A noise within]

		      Here's goodly work!

Second Patrician	I would they were abed!

MENENIUS	I would they were in Tiber! What the vengeance!
	Could he not speak 'em fair?

	[Re-enter BRUTUS and SICINIUS, with the rabble]

SICINIUS	Where is this viper
	That would depopulate the city and
	Be every man himself?

MENENIUS	You worthy tribunes,--

SICINIUS	He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock
	With rigorous hands: he hath resisted law,
	And therefore law shall scorn him further trial
	Than the severity of the public power
	Which he so sets at nought.

First Citizen	He shall well know
	The noble tribunes are the people's mouths,
	And we their hands.

Citizens	He shall, sure on't.

MENENIUS	Sir, sir,--

SICINIUS	Peace!

MENENIUS	Do not cry havoc, where you should but hunt
	With modest warrant.

SICINIUS	Sir, how comes't that you
	Have holp to make this rescue?

MENENIUS	Hear me speak:
	As I do know the consul's worthiness,
	So can I name his faults,--

SICINIUS	Consul! what consul?

MENENIUS	The consul Coriolanus.

BRUTUS	He consul!

Citizens	No, no, no, no, no.

MENENIUS	If, by the tribunes' leave, and yours, good people,
	I may be heard, I would crave a word or two;
	The which shall turn you to no further harm
	Than so much loss of time.

SICINIUS	Speak briefly then;
	For we are peremptory to dispatch
	This viperous traitor: to eject him hence
	Were but one danger, and to keep him here
	Our certain death: therefore it is decreed
	He dies to-night.

MENENIUS	                  Now the good gods forbid
	That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude
	Towards her deserved children is enroll'd
	In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam
	Should now eat up her own!

SICINIUS	He's a disease that must be cut away.

MENENIUS	O, he's a limb that has but a disease;
	Mortal, to cut it off; to cure it, easy.
	What has he done to Rome that's worthy death?
	Killing our enemies, the blood he hath lost--
	Which, I dare vouch, is more than that he hath,
	By many an ounce--he dropp'd it for his country;
	And what is left, to lose it by his country,
	Were to us all, that do't and suffer it,
	A brand to the end o' the world.

SICINIUS	This is clean kam.

BRUTUS	Merely awry: when he did love his country,
	It honour'd him.

MENENIUS	                  The service of the foot
	Being once gangrened, is not then respected
	For what before it was.

BRUTUS	We'll hear no more.
	Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence:
	Lest his infection, being of catching nature,
	Spread further.

MENENIUS	                  One word more, one word.
	This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find
	The harm of unscann'd swiftness, will too late
	Tie leaden pounds to's heels. Proceed by process;
	Lest parties, as he is beloved, break out,
	And sack great Rome with Romans.

BRUTUS	If it were so,--

SICINIUS	What do ye talk?
	Have we not had a taste of his obedience?
	Our aediles smote? ourselves resisted? Come.

MENENIUS	Consider this: he has been bred i' the wars
	Since he could draw a sword, and is ill school'd
	In bolted language; meal and bran together
	He throws without distinction. Give me leave,
	I'll go to him, and undertake to bring him
	Where he shall answer, by a lawful form,
	In peace, to his utmost peril.

First Senator	Noble tribunes,
	It is the humane way: the other course
	Will prove too bloody, and the end of it
	Unknown to the beginning.

SICINIUS	Noble Menenius,
	Be you then as the people's officer.
	Masters, lay down your weapons.

BRUTUS	Go not home.

SICINIUS	Meet on the market-place. We'll attend you there:
	Where, if you bring not Marcius, we'll proceed
	In our first way.

MENENIUS	                  I'll bring him to you.

	[To the Senators]

	Let me desire your company: he must come,
	Or what is worst will follow.

First Senator	Pray you, let's to him.

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT III



SCENE II	A room in CORIOLANUS'S house.


	[Enter CORIOLANUS with Patricians]

CORIOLANUS	Let them puff all about mine ears, present me
	Death on the wheel or at wild horses' heels,
	Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock,
	That the precipitation might down stretch
	Below the beam of sight, yet will I still
	Be thus to them.

A Patrician	You do the nobler.

CORIOLANUS	I muse my mother
	Does not approve me further, who was wont
	To call them woollen vassals, things created
	To buy and sell with groats, to show bare heads
	In congregations, to yawn, be still and wonder,
	When one but of my ordinance stood up
	To speak of peace or war.

	[Enter VOLUMNIA]

		    I talk of you:
	Why did you wish me milder? would you have me
	False to my nature? Rather say I play
	The man I am.

VOLUMNIA	                  O, sir, sir, sir,
	I would have had you put your power well on,
	Before you had worn it out.

CORIOLANUS	Let go.

VOLUMNIA	You might have been enough the man you are,
	With striving less to be so; lesser had been
	The thwartings of your dispositions, if
	You had not show'd them how ye were disposed
	Ere they lack'd power to cross you.

CORIOLANUS	Let them hang.

A Patrician	Ay, and burn too.

	[Enter MENENIUS and Senators]

MENENIUS	Come, come, you have been too rough, something
	too rough;
	You must return and mend it.

First Senator	There's no remedy;
	Unless, by not so doing, our good city
	Cleave in the midst, and perish.

VOLUMNIA	Pray, be counsell'd:
	I have a heart as little apt as yours,
	But yet a brain that leads my use of anger
	To better vantage.

MENENIUS	                  Well said, noble woman?
	Before he should thus stoop to the herd, but that
	The violent fit o' the time craves it as physic
	For the whole state, I would put mine armour on,
	Which I can scarcely bear.

CORIOLANUS	What must I do?

MENENIUS	Return to the tribunes.

CORIOLANUS	Well, what then? what then?

MENENIUS	Repent what you have spoke.

CORIOLANUS	For them! I cannot do it to the gods;
	Must I then do't to them?

VOLUMNIA	You are too absolute;
	Though therein you can never be too noble,
	But when extremities speak. I have heard you say,
	Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends,
	I' the war do grow together: grant that, and tell me,
	In peace what each of them by the other lose,
	That they combine not there.

CORIOLANUS	Tush, tush!

MENENIUS	A good demand.

VOLUMNIA	If it be honour in your wars to seem
	The same you are not, which, for your best ends,
	You adopt your policy, how is it less or worse,
	That it shall hold companionship in peace
	With honour, as in war, since that to both
	It stands in like request?

CORIOLANUS	Why force you this?

VOLUMNIA	Because that now it lies you on to speak
	To the people; not by your own instruction,
	Nor by the matter which your heart prompts you,
	But with such words that are but rooted in
	Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables
	Of no allowance to your bosom's truth.
	Now, this no more dishonours you at all
	Than to take in a town with gentle words,
	Which else would put you to your fortune and
	The hazard of much blood.
	I would dissemble with my nature where
	My fortunes and my friends at stake required
	I should do so in honour: I am in this,
	Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles;
	And you will rather show our general louts
	How you can frown than spend a fawn upon 'em,
	For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard
	Of what that want might ruin.

MENENIUS	Noble lady!
	Come, go with us; speak fair: you may salve so,
	Not what is dangerous present, but the loss
	Of what is past.

VOLUMNIA	                  I prithee now, my son,
	Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand;
	And thus far having stretch'd it--here be with them--
	Thy knee bussing the stones--for in such business
	Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant
	More learned than the ears--waving thy head,
	Which often, thus, correcting thy stout heart,
	Now humble as the ripest mulberry
	That will not hold the handling: or say to them,
	Thou art their soldier, and being bred in broils
	Hast not the soft way which, thou dost confess,
	Were fit for thee to use as they to claim,
	In asking their good loves, but thou wilt frame
	Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far
	As thou hast power and person.

MENENIUS	This but done,
	Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were yours;
	For they have pardons, being ask'd, as free
	As words to little purpose.

VOLUMNIA	Prithee now,
	Go, and be ruled: although I know thou hadst rather
	Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf
	Than flatter him in a bower. Here is Cominius.

	[Enter COMINIUS]

COMINIUS	I have been i' the market-place; and, sir,'tis fit
	You make strong party, or defend yourself
	By calmness or by absence: all's in anger.

MENENIUS	Only fair speech.

COMINIUS	                  I think 'twill serve, if he
	Can thereto frame his spirit.

VOLUMNIA	He must, and will
	Prithee now, say you will, and go about it.

CORIOLANUS	Must I go show them my unbarbed sconce?
	Must I with base tongue give my noble heart
	A lie that it must bear? Well, I will do't:
	Yet, were there but this single plot to lose,
	This mould of Marcius, they to dust should grind it
	And throw't against the wind. To the market-place!
	You have put me now to such a part which never
	I shall discharge to the life.

COMINIUS	Come, come, we'll prompt you.

VOLUMNIA	I prithee now, sweet son, as thou hast said
	My praises made thee first a soldier, so,
	To have my praise for this, perform a part
	Thou hast not done before.

CORIOLANUS	Well, I must do't:
	Away, my disposition, and possess me
	Some harlot's spirit! my throat of war be turn'd,
	Which quired with my drum, into a pipe
	Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice
	That babies lulls asleep! the smiles of knaves
	Tent in my cheeks, and schoolboys' tears take up
	The glasses of my sight! a beggar's tongue
	Make motion through my lips, and my arm'd knees,
	Who bow'd but in my stirrup, bend like his
	That hath received an alms! I will not do't,
	Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth
	And by my body's action teach my mind
	A most inherent baseness.

VOLUMNIA	At thy choice, then:
	To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour
	Than thou of them. Come all to ruin; let
	Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear
	Thy dangerous stoutness, for I mock at death
	With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list
	Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck'dst it from me,
	But owe thy pride thyself.

CORIOLANUS	Pray, be content:
	Mother, I am going to the market-place;
	Chide me no more. I'll mountebank their loves,
	Cog their hearts from them, and come home beloved
	Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going:
	Commend me to my wife. I'll return consul;
	Or never trust to what my tongue can do
	I' the way of flattery further.

VOLUMNIA	Do your will.

	[Exit]

COMINIUS	Away! the tribunes do attend you: arm yourself
	To answer mildly; for they are prepared
	With accusations, as I hear, more strong
	Than are upon you yet.

CORIOLANUS	The word is 'mildly.' Pray you, let us go:
	Let them accuse me by invention, I
	Will answer in mine honour.

MENENIUS	Ay, but mildly.

CORIOLANUS	Well, mildly be it then. Mildly!

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT III



SCENE III	The same. The Forum.


	[Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS]

BRUTUS	In this point charge him home, that he affects
	Tyrannical power: if he evade us there,
	Enforce him with his envy to the people,
	And that the spoil got on the Antiates
	Was ne'er distributed.

	[Enter an AEdile]

	What, will he come?

AEdile	He's coming.

BRUTUS	How accompanied?

AEdile	With old Menenius, and those senators
	That always favour'd him.

SICINIUS	Have you a catalogue
	Of all the voices that we have procured
	Set down by the poll?

AEdile	I have; 'tis ready.

SICINIUS	Have you collected them by tribes?

AEdile	I have.

SICINIUS	Assemble presently the people hither;
	And when they bear me say 'It shall be so
	I' the right and strength o' the commons,' be it either
	For death, for fine, or banishment, then let them
	If I say fine, cry 'Fine;' if death, cry 'Death.'
	Insisting on the old prerogative
	And power i' the truth o' the cause.

AEdile	I shall inform them.

BRUTUS	And when such time they have begun to cry,
	Let them not cease, but with a din confused
	Enforce the present execution
	Of what we chance to sentence.

AEdile	Very well.

SICINIUS	Make them be strong and ready for this hint,
	When we shall hap to give 't them.

BRUTUS	Go about it.

	[Exit AEdile]

	Put him to choler straight: he hath been used
	Ever to conquer, and to have his worth
	Of contradiction: being once chafed, he cannot
	Be rein'd again to temperance; then he speaks
	What's in his heart; and that is there which looks
	With us to break his neck.

SICINIUS	Well, here he comes.

	[Enter CORIOLANUS, MENENIUS, and COMINIUS,
	with Senators and Patricians]

MENENIUS	Calmly, I do beseech you.

CORIOLANUS	Ay, as an ostler, that for the poorest piece
	Will bear the knave by the volume. The honour'd gods
	Keep Rome in safety, and the chairs of justice
	Supplied with worthy men! plant love among 's!
	Throng our large temples with the shows of peace,
	And not our streets with war!

First Senator	Amen, amen.

MENENIUS	A noble wish.

	[Re-enter AEdile, with Citizens]

SICINIUS	Draw near, ye people.

AEdile	List to your tribunes. Audience: peace, I say!

CORIOLANUS	First, hear me speak.

Both Tribunes	Well, say. Peace, ho!

CORIOLANUS	Shall I be charged no further than this present?
	Must all determine here?

SICINIUS	I do demand,
	If you submit you to the people's voices,
	Allow their officers and are content
	To suffer lawful censure for such faults
	As shall be proved upon you?

CORIOLANUS	I am content.

MENENIUS	Lo, citizens, he says he is content:
	The warlike service he has done, consider; think
	Upon the wounds his body bears, which show
	Like graves i' the holy churchyard.

CORIOLANUS	Scratches with briers,
	Scars to move laughter only.

MENENIUS	Consider further,
	That when he speaks not like a citizen,
	You find him like a soldier: do not take
	His rougher accents for malicious sounds,
	But, as I say, such as become a soldier,
	Rather than envy you.

COMINIUS	Well, well, no more.

CORIOLANUS	What is the matter
	That being pass'd for consul with full voice,
	I am so dishonour'd that the very hour
	You take it off again?

SICINIUS	Answer to us.

CORIOLANUS	Say, then: 'tis true, I ought so.

SICINIUS	We charge you, that you have contrived to take
	From Rome all season'd office and to wind
	Yourself into a power tyrannical;
	For which you are a traitor to the people.

CORIOLANUS	How! traitor!

MENENIUS	                  Nay, temperately; your promise.

CORIOLANUS	The fires i' the lowest hell fold-in the people!
	Call me their traitor! Thou injurious tribune!
	Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths,
	In thy hand clutch'd as many millions, in
	Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say
	'Thou liest' unto thee with a voice as free
	As I do pray the gods.

SICINIUS	Mark you this, people?

Citizens	To the rock, to the rock with him!

SICINIUS	Peace!
	We need not put new matter to his charge:
	What you have seen him do and heard him speak,
	Beating your officers, cursing yourselves,
	Opposing laws with strokes and here defying
	Those whose great power must try him; even this,
	So criminal and in such capital kind,
	Deserves the extremest death.

BRUTUS	But since he hath
	Served well for Rome,--

CORIOLANUS	What do you prate of service?

BRUTUS	I talk of that, that know it.

CORIOLANUS	You?

MENENIUS	Is this the promise that you made your mother?

COMINIUS	Know, I pray you,--

CORIOLANUS	I know no further:
	Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death,
	Vagabond exile, raying, pent to linger
	But with a grain a day, I would not buy
	Their mercy at the price of one fair word;
	Nor cheque my courage for what they can give,
	To have't with saying 'Good morrow.'

SICINIUS	For that he has,
	As much as in him lies, from time to time
	Envied against the people, seeking means
	To pluck away their power, as now at last
	Given hostile strokes, and that not in the presence
	Of dreaded justice, but on the ministers
	That do distribute it; in the name o' the people
	And in the power of us the tribunes, we,
	Even from this instant, banish him our city,
	In peril of precipitation
	From off the rock Tarpeian never more
	To enter our Rome gates: i' the people's name,
	I say it shall be so.

Citizens	It shall be so, it shall be so; let him away:
	He's banish'd, and it shall be so.

COMINIUS	Hear me, my masters, and my common friends,--

SICINIUS	He's sentenced; no more hearing.

COMINIUS	Let me speak:
	I have been consul, and can show for Rome
	Her enemies' marks upon me. I do love
	My country's good with a respect more tender,
	More holy and profound, than mine own life,
	My dear wife's estimate, her womb's increase,
	And treasure of my loins; then if I would
	Speak that,--

SICINIUS	                  We know your drift: speak what?

BRUTUS	There's no more to be said, but he is banish'd,
	As enemy to the people and his country:
	It shall be so.

Citizens	It shall be so, it shall be so.

CORIOLANUS	You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate
	As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize
	As the dead carcasses of unburied men
	That do corrupt my air, I banish you;
	And here remain with your uncertainty!
	Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts!
	Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,
	Fan you into despair! Have the power still
	To banish your defenders; till at length
	Your ignorance, which finds not till it feels,
	Making not reservation of yourselves,
	Still your own foes, deliver you as most
	Abated captives to some nation
	That won you without blows! Despising,
	For you, the city, thus I turn my back:
	There is a world elsewhere.

	[Exeunt CORIOLANUS, COMINIUS, MENENIUS, Senators,
	and Patricians]

AEdile	The people's enemy is gone, is gone!

Citizens	Our enemy is banish'd! he is gone! Hoo! hoo!

	[Shouting, and throwing up their caps]

SICINIUS	Go, see him out at gates, and follow him,
	As he hath followed you, with all despite;
	Give him deserved vexation. Let a guard
	Attend us through the city.

Citizens	Come, come; let's see him out at gates; come.
	The gods preserve our noble tribunes! Come.

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT IV



SCENE I	Rome. Before a gate of the city.


	[Enter CORIOLANUS, VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, MENENIUS,
	COMINIUS, with the young Nobility of Rome]

CORIOLANUS	Come, leave your tears: a brief farewell: the beast
	With many heads butts me away. Nay, mother,
	Where is your ancient courage? you were used
	To say extremity was the trier of spirits;
	That common chances common men could bear;
	That when the sea was calm all boats alike
	Show'd mastership in floating; fortune's blows,
	When most struck home, being gentle wounded, craves
	A noble cunning: you were used to load me
	With precepts that would make invincible
	The heart that conn'd them.

VIRGILIA	O heavens! O heavens!

CORIOLANUS	Nay! prithee, woman,--

VOLUMNIA	Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome,
	And occupations perish!

CORIOLANUS	What, what, what!
	I shall be loved when I am lack'd. Nay, mother.
	Resume that spirit, when you were wont to say,
	If you had been the wife of Hercules,
	Six of his labours you'ld have done, and saved
	Your husband so much sweat. Cominius,
	Droop not; adieu. Farewell, my wife, my mother:
	I'll do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius,
	Thy tears are salter than a younger man's,
	And venomous to thine eyes. My sometime general,
	I have seen thee stem, and thou hast oft beheld
	Heart-hardening spectacles; tell these sad women
	'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes,
	As 'tis to laugh at 'em. My mother, you wot well
	My hazards still have been your solace: and
	Believe't not lightly--though I go alone,
	Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen
	Makes fear'd and talk'd of more than seen--your son
	Will or exceed the common or be caught
	With cautelous baits and practise.

VOLUMNIA	My first son.
	Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius
	With thee awhile: determine on some course,
	More than a wild exposture to each chance
	That starts i' the way before thee.

CORIOLANUS	O the gods!

COMINIUS	I'll follow thee a month, devise with thee
	Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear of us
	And we of thee: so if the time thrust forth
	A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send
	O'er the vast world to seek a single man,
	And lose advantage, which doth ever cool
	I' the absence of the needer.

CORIOLANUS	Fare ye well:
	Thou hast years upon thee; and thou art too full
	Of the wars' surfeits, to go rove with one
	That's yet unbruised: bring me but out at gate.
	Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and
	My friends of noble touch, when I am forth,
	Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come.
	While I remain above the ground, you shall
	Hear from me still, and never of me aught
	But what is like me formerly.

MENENIUS	That's worthily
	As any ear can hear. Come, let's not weep.
	If I could shake off but one seven years
	From these old arms and legs, by the good gods,
	I'ld with thee every foot.

CORIOLANUS	Give me thy hand: Come.

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT IV



SCENE II	The same. A  street near the gate.


	[Enter SICINIUS, BRUTUS, and an AEdile]

SICINIUS	Bid them all home; he's gone, and we'll no further.
	The nobility are vex'd, whom we see have sided
	In his behalf.

BRUTUS	                  Now we have shown our power,
	Let us seem humbler after it is done
	Than when it was a-doing.

SICINIUS	Bid them home:
	Say their great enemy is gone, and they
	Stand in their ancient strength.

BRUTUS	Dismiss them home.

	[Exit AEdile]

	Here comes his mother.

SICINIUS	Let's not meet her.

BRUTUS	Why?

SICINIUS	They say she's mad.

BRUTUS	They have ta'en note of us: keep on your way.

	[Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and MENENIUS]

VOLUMNIA	O, ye're well met: the hoarded plague o' the gods
	Requite your love!

MENENIUS	                  Peace, peace; be not so loud.

VOLUMNIA	If that I could for weeping, you should hear,--
	Nay, and you shall hear some.

	[To BRUTUS]

		        Will you be gone?

VIRGILIA	[To SICINIUS]  You shall stay too: I would I had the power
	To say so to my husband.

SICINIUS	Are you mankind?

VOLUMNIA	Ay, fool; is that a shame? Note but this fool.
	Was not a man my father? Hadst thou foxship
	To banish him that struck more blows for Rome
	Than thou hast spoken words?

SICINIUS	O blessed heavens!

VOLUMNIA	More noble blows than ever thou wise words;
	And for Rome's good. I'll tell thee what; yet go:
	Nay, but thou shalt stay too: I would my son
	Were in Arabia, and thy tribe before him,
	His good sword in his hand.

SICINIUS	What then?

VIRGILIA	What then!
	He'ld make an end of thy posterity.

VOLUMNIA	Bastards and all.
	Good man, the wounds that he does bear for Rome!

MENENIUS	Come, come, peace.

SICINIUS	I would he had continued to his country
	As he began, and not unknit himself
	The noble knot he made.

BRUTUS	I would he had.

VOLUMNIA	'I would he had'! 'Twas you incensed the rabble:
	Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth
	As I can of those mysteries which heaven
	Will not have earth to know.

BRUTUS	Pray, let us go.

VOLUMNIA	Now, pray, sir, get you gone:
	You have done a brave deed. Ere you go, hear this:--
	As far as doth the Capitol exceed
	The meanest house in Rome, so far my son--
	This lady's husband here, this, do you see--
	Whom you have banish'd, does exceed you all.

BRUTUS	Well, well, we'll leave you.

SICINIUS	Why stay we to be baited
	With one that wants her wits?

VOLUMNIA	Take my prayers with you.

	[Exeunt Tribunes]

	I would the gods had nothing else to do
	But to confirm my curses! Could I meet 'em
	But once a-day, it would unclog my heart
	Of what lies heavy to't.

MENENIUS	You have told them home;
	And, by my troth, you have cause. You'll sup with me?

VOLUMNIA	Anger's my meat; I sup upon myself,
	And so shall starve with feeding. Come, let's go:
	Leave this faint puling and lament as I do,
	In anger, Juno-like. Come, come, come.

MENENIUS	Fie, fie, fie!

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT IV



SCENE III	A highway between Rome and Antium.


	[Enter a Roman and a Volsce, meeting]

Roman	I know you well, sir, and you know
	me: your name, I think, is Adrian.

Volsce	It is so, sir: truly, I have forgot you.

Roman	I am a Roman; and my services are,
	as you are, against 'em: know you me yet?

Volsce	Nicanor? no.

Roman	The same, sir.

Volsce	You had more beard when I last saw you; but your
	favour is well approved by your tongue. What's the
	news in Rome? I have a note from the Volscian state,
	to find you out there: you have well saved me a
	day's journey.

Roman	There hath been in Rome strange insurrections; the
	people against the senators, patricians, and nobles.

Volsce	Hath been! is it ended, then? Our state thinks not
	so: they are in a most warlike preparation, and
	hope to come upon them in the heat of their division.

Roman	The main blaze of it is past, but a small thing
	would make it flame again: for the nobles receive
	so to heart the banishment of that worthy
	Coriolanus, that they are in a ripe aptness to take
	all power from the people and to pluck from them
	their tribunes for ever. This lies glowing, I can
	tell you, and is almost mature for the violent
	breaking out.

Volsce	Coriolanus banished!

Roman	Banished, sir.

Volsce	You will be welcome with this intelligence, Nicanor.

Roman	The day serves well for them now. I have heard it
	said, the fittest time to corrupt a man's wife is
	when she's fallen out with her husband. Your noble
	Tullus Aufidius will appear well in these wars, his
	great opposer, Coriolanus, being now in no request
	of his country.

Volsce	He cannot choose. I am most fortunate, thus
	accidentally to encounter you: you have ended my
	business, and I will merrily accompany you home.

Roman	I shall, between this and supper, tell you most
	strange things from Rome; all tending to the good of
	their adversaries. Have you an army ready, say you?

Volsce	A most royal one; the centurions and their charges,
	distinctly billeted, already in the entertainment,
	and to be on foot at an hour's warning.

Roman	I am joyful to hear of their readiness, and am the
	man, I think, that shall set them in present action.
	So, sir, heartily well met, and most glad of your company.

Volsce	You take my part from me, sir; I have the most cause
	to be glad of yours.

Roman	Well, let us go together.

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT IV



SCENE IV	Antium. Before Aufidius's house.


	[Enter CORIOLANUS in mean apparel, disguised
	and muffled]

CORIOLANUS	A goodly city is this Antium. City,
	'Tis I that made thy widows: many an heir
	Of these fair edifices 'fore my wars
	Have I heard groan and drop: then know me not,
	Lest that thy wives with spits and boys with stones
	In puny battle slay me.

	[Enter a Citizen]

		  Save you, sir.

Citizen	And you.

CORIOLANUS	       Direct me, if it be your will,
	Where great Aufidius lies: is he in Antium?

Citizen	He is, and feasts the nobles of the state
	At his house this night.

CORIOLANUS	Which is his house, beseech you?

Citizen	This, here before you.

CORIOLANUS	Thank you, sir: farewell.

	[Exit Citizen]

	O world, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast sworn,
	Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart,
	Whose house, whose bed, whose meal, and exercise,
	Are still together, who twin, as 'twere, in love
	Unseparable, shall within this hour,
	On a dissension of a doit, break out
	To bitterest enmity: so, fellest foes,
	Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep,
	To take the one the other, by some chance,
	Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends
	And interjoin their issues. So with me:
	My birth-place hate I, and my love's upon
	This enemy town. I'll enter: if he slay me,
	He does fair justice; if he give me way,
	I'll do his country service.

	[Exit]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT IV



SCENE V	The same. A hall in Aufidius's house.


	[Music within. Enter a Servingman]

First Servingman	Wine, wine, wine! What service
	is here! I think our fellows are asleep.

	[Exit]

	[Enter a second Servingman]

Second Servingman	Where's Cotus? my master calls
	for him. Cotus!

	[Exit]

	[Enter CORIOLANUS]

CORIOLANUS	A goodly house: the feast smells well; but I
	Appear not like a guest.

	[Re-enter the first Servingman]

First Servingman	What would you have, friend? whence are you?
	Here's no place for you: pray, go to the door.

	[Exit]

CORIOLANUS	I have deserved no better entertainment,
	In being Coriolanus.

	[Re-enter second Servingman]

Second Servingman	Whence are you, sir? Has the porter his eyes in his
	head; that he gives entrance to such companions?
	Pray, get you out.

CORIOLANUS	Away!

Second Servingman	Away! get you away.

CORIOLANUS	Now thou'rt troublesome.

Second Servingman	Are you so brave? I'll have you talked with anon.

	[Enter a third Servingman. The first meets him]

Third Servingman	What fellow's this?

First Servingman	A strange one as ever I looked on: I cannot get him
	out of the house: prithee, call my master to him.

	[Retires]

Third Servingman	What have you to do here, fellow? Pray you, avoid
	the house.

CORIOLANUS	Let me but stand; I will not hurt your hearth.

Third Servingman	What are you?

CORIOLANUS	A gentleman.

Third Servingman	A marvellous poor one.

CORIOLANUS	True, so I am.

Third Servingman	Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some other
	station; here's no place for you; pray you, avoid: come.

CORIOLANUS	Follow your function, go, and batten on cold bits.

	[Pushes him away]

Third Servingman	What, you will not? Prithee, tell my master what a
	strange guest he has here.

Second Servingman	And I shall.

	[Exit]

Third Servingman	Where dwellest thou?

CORIOLANUS	Under the canopy.

Third Servingman	Under the canopy!

CORIOLANUS	Ay.

Third Servingman	Where's that?

CORIOLANUS	I' the city of kites and crows.

Third Servingman	I' the city of kites and crows! What an ass it is!
	Then thou dwellest with daws too?

CORIOLANUS	No, I serve not thy master.

Third Servingman	How, sir! do you meddle with my master?

CORIOLANUS	Ay; 'tis an honester service than to meddle with thy
	mistress. Thou pratest, and pratest; serve with thy
	trencher, hence!

	[Beats him away. Exit third Servingman]

	[Enter AUFIDIUS with the second Servingman]

AUFIDIUS	Where is this fellow?

Second Servingman	Here, sir: I'ld have beaten him like a dog, but for
	disturbing the lords within.

	[Retires]

AUFIDIUS	Whence comest thou? what wouldst thou? thy name?
	Why speak'st not? speak, man: what's thy name?

CORIOLANUS	If, Tullus,

	[Unmuffling]

	Not yet thou knowest me, and, seeing me, dost not
	Think me for the man I am, necessity
	Commands me name myself.

AUFIDIUS	What is thy name?

CORIOLANUS	A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears,
	And harsh in sound to thine.

AUFIDIUS	Say, what's thy name?
	Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face
	Bears a command in't; though thy tackle's torn.
	Thou show'st a noble vessel: what's thy name?

CORIOLANUS	Prepare thy brow to frown: know'st
	thou me yet?

AUFIDIUS	I know thee not: thy name?

CORIOLANUS	My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done
	To thee particularly and to all the Volsces
	Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may
	My surname, Coriolanus: the painful service,
	The extreme dangers and the drops of blood
	Shed for my thankless country are requited
	But with that surname; a good memory,
	And witness of the malice and displeasure
	Which thou shouldst bear me: only that name remains;
	The cruelty and envy of the people,
	Permitted by our dastard nobles, who
	Have all forsook me, hath devour'd the rest;
	And suffer'd me by the voice of slaves to be
	Whoop'd out of Rome. Now this extremity
	Hath brought me to thy hearth; not out of hope--
	Mistake me not--to save my life, for if
	I had fear'd death, of all the men i' the world
	I would have 'voided thee, but in mere spite,
	To be full quit of those my banishers,
	Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast
	A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge
	Thine own particular wrongs and stop those maims
	Of shame seen through thy country, speed
	thee straight,
	And make my misery serve thy turn: so use it
	That my revengeful services may prove
	As benefits to thee, for I will fight
	Against my canker'd country with the spleen
	Of all the under fiends. But if so be
	Thou darest not this and that to prove more fortunes
	Thou'rt tired, then, in a word, I also am
	Longer to live most weary, and present
	My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice;
	Which not to cut would show thee but a fool,
	Since I have ever follow'd thee with hate,
	Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast,
	And cannot live but to thy shame, unless
	It be to do thee service.

AUFIDIUS	O Marcius, Marcius!
	Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart
	A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter
	Should from yond cloud speak divine things,
	And say 'Tis true,' I'ld not believe them more
	Than thee, all noble Marcius. Let me twine
	Mine arms about that body, where against
	My grained ash an hundred times hath broke
	And scarr'd the moon with splinters: here I clip
	The anvil of my sword, and do contest
	As hotly and as nobly with thy love
	As ever in ambitious strength I did
	Contend against thy valour. Know thou first,
	I loved the maid I married; never man
	Sigh'd truer breath; but that I see thee here,
	Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart
	Than when I first my wedded mistress saw
	Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I tell thee,
	We have a power on foot; and I had purpose
	Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn,
	Or lose mine arm fort: thou hast beat me out
	Twelve several times, and I have nightly since
	Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me;
	We have been down together in my sleep,
	Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat,
	And waked half dead with nothing. Worthy Marcius,
	Had we no quarrel else to Rome, but that
	Thou art thence banish'd, we would muster all
	From twelve to seventy, and pouring war
	Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,
	Like a bold flood o'er-bear. O, come, go in,
	And take our friendly senators by the hands;
	Who now are here, taking their leaves of me,
	Who am prepared against your territories,
	Though not for Rome itself.

CORIOLANUS	You bless me, gods!

AUFIDIUS	Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou wilt have
	The leading of thine own revenges, take
	The one half of my commission; and set down--
	As best thou art experienced, since thou know'st
	Thy country's strength and weakness,--thine own ways;
	Whether to knock against the gates of Rome,
	Or rudely visit them in parts remote,
	To fright them, ere destroy. But come in:
	Let me commend thee first to those that shall
	Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes!
	And more a friend than e'er an enemy;
	Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand: most welcome!

	[Exeunt CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS. The two
	Servingmen come forward]

First Servingman	Here's a strange alteration!

Second Servingman	By my hand, I had thought to have strucken him with
	a cudgel; and yet my mind gave me his clothes made a
	false report of him.

First Servingman	What an arm he has! he turned me about with his
	finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top.

Second Servingman	Nay, I knew by his face that there was something in
	him: he had, sir, a kind of face, methought,--I
	cannot tell how to term it.

First Servingman	He had so; looking as it were--would I were hanged,
	but I thought there was more in him than I could think.

Second Servingman	So did I, I'll be sworn: he is simply the rarest
	man i' the world.

First Servingman	I think he is: but a greater soldier than he you wot on.

Second Servingman	Who, my master?

First Servingman	Nay, it's no matter for that.

Second Servingman	Worth six on him.

First Servingman	Nay, not so neither: but I take him to be the
	greater soldier.

Second Servingman	Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that:
	for the defence of a town, our general is excellent.

First Servingman	Ay, and for an assault too.

	[Re-enter third Servingman]

Third Servingman	O slaves, I can tell you news,-- news, you rascals!


First Servingman	|
	|  What, what, what? let's partake.
Second Servingman	|


Third Servingman	I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as
	lieve be a condemned man.


First Servingman	|
	|  Wherefore? wherefore?
Second Servingman	|


Third Servingman	Why, here's he that was wont to thwack our general,
	Caius Marcius.

First Servingman	Why do you say 'thwack our general '?

Third Servingman	I do not say 'thwack our general;' but he was always
	good enough for him.

Second Servingman	Come, we are fellows and friends: he was ever too
	hard for him; I have heard him say so himself.

First Servingman	He was too hard for him directly, to say the troth
	on't: before Corioli he scotched him and notched
	him like a carbon ado.

Second Servingman	An he had been cannibally given, he might have
	broiled and eaten him too.

First Servingman	But, more of thy news?

Third Servingman	Why, he is so made on here within, as if he were son
	and heir to Mars; set at upper end o' the table; no
	question asked him by any of the senators, but they
	stand bald before him: our general himself makes a
	mistress of him: sanctifies himself with's hand and
	turns up the white o' the eye to his discourse. But
	the bottom of the news is that our general is cut i'
	the middle and but one half of what he was
	yesterday; for the other has half, by the entreaty
	and grant of the whole table. He'll go, he says,
	and sowl the porter of Rome gates by the ears: he
	will mow all down before him, and leave his passage polled.

Second Servingman	And he's as like to do't as any man I can imagine.

Third Servingman	Do't! he will do't; for, look you, sir, he has as
	many friends as enemies; which friends, sir, as it
	were, durst not, look you, sir, show themselves, as
	we term it, his friends whilst he's in directitude.

First Servingman	Directitude! what's that?

Third Servingman	But when they shall see, sir, his crest up again,
	and the man in blood, they will out of their
	burrows, like conies after rain, and revel all with
	him.

First Servingman	But when goes this forward?

Third Servingman	To-morrow; to-day; presently; you shall have the
	drum struck up this afternoon: 'tis, as it were, a
	parcel of their feast, and to be executed ere they
	wipe their lips.

Second Servingman	Why, then we shall have a stirring world again.
	This peace is nothing, but to rust iron, increase
	tailors, and breed ballad-makers.

First Servingman	Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace as far as
	day does night; it's spritely, waking, audible, and
	full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy;
	mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible; a getter of more
	bastard children than war's a destroyer of men.

Second Servingman	'Tis so: and as war, in some sort, may be said to
	be a ravisher, so it cannot be denied but peace is a
	great maker of cuckolds.

First Servingman	Ay, and it makes men hate one another.

Third Servingman	Reason; because they then less need one another.
	The wars for my money. I hope to see Romans as cheap
	as Volscians. They are rising, they are rising.

All	In, in, in, in!

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT IV



SCENE VI	Rome. A public place.


	[Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS]

SICINIUS	We hear not of him, neither need we fear him;
	His remedies are tame i' the present peace
	And quietness of the people, which before
	Were in wild hurry. Here do we make his friends
	Blush that the world goes well, who rather had,
	Though they themselves did suffer by't, behold
	Dissentious numbers pestering streets than see
	Our tradesmen with in their shops and going
	About their functions friendly.

BRUTUS	We stood to't in good time.

	[Enter MENENIUS]

		      Is this Menenius?

SICINIUS	'Tis he,'tis he: O, he is grown most kind of late.

Both Tribunes	Hail sir!

MENENIUS	        Hail to you both!

SICINIUS	Your Coriolanus
	Is not much miss'd, but with his friends:
	The commonwealth doth stand, and so would do,
	Were he more angry at it.

MENENIUS	All's well; and might have been much better, if
	He could have temporized.

SICINIUS	Where is he, hear you?

MENENIUS	Nay, I hear nothing: his mother and his wife
	Hear nothing from him.

	[Enter three or four Citizens]

Citizens	The gods preserve you both!

SICINIUS	God-den, our neighbours.

BRUTUS	God-den to you all, god-den to you all.

First Citizen	Ourselves, our wives, and children, on our knees,
	Are bound to pray for you both.

SICINIUS	Live, and thrive!

BRUTUS	Farewell, kind neighbours: we wish'd Coriolanus
	Had loved you as we did.

Citizens	Now the gods keep you!

Both Tribunes	Farewell, farewell.

	[Exeunt Citizens]

SICINIUS	This is a happier and more comely time
	Than when these fellows ran about the streets,
	Crying confusion.

BRUTUS	                  Caius Marcius was
	A worthy officer i' the war; but insolent,
	O'ercome with pride, ambitious past all thinking,
	Self-loving,--

SICINIUS	                  And affecting one sole throne,
	Without assistance.

MENENIUS	I think not so.

SICINIUS	We should by this, to all our lamentation,
	If he had gone forth consul, found it so.

BRUTUS	The gods have well prevented it, and Rome
	Sits safe and still without him.

	[Enter an AEdile]

AEdile	Worthy tribunes,
	There is a slave, whom we have put in prison,
	Reports, the Volsces with two several powers
	Are enter'd in the Roman territories,
	And with the deepest malice of the war
	Destroy what lies before 'em.

MENENIUS	'Tis Aufidius,
	Who, hearing of our Marcius' banishment,
	Thrusts forth his horns again into the world;
	Which were inshell'd when Marcius stood for Rome,
	And durst not once peep out.

SICINIUS	Come, what talk you
	Of Marcius?

BRUTUS	Go see this rumourer whipp'd. It cannot be
	The Volsces dare break with us.

MENENIUS	Cannot be!
	We have record that very well it can,
	And three examples of the like have been
	Within my age. But reason with the fellow,
	Before you punish him, where he heard this,
	Lest you shall chance to whip your information
	And beat the messenger who bids beware
	Of what is to be dreaded.

SICINIUS	Tell not me:
	I know this cannot be.

BRUTUS	Not possible.

	[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger	The nobles in great earnestness are going
	All to the senate-house: some news is come
	That turns their countenances.

SICINIUS	'Tis this slave;--
	Go whip him, 'fore the people's eyes:--his raising;
	Nothing but his report.

Messenger	Yes, worthy sir,
	The slave's report is seconded; and more,
	More fearful, is deliver'd.

SICINIUS	What more fearful?

Messenger	It is spoke freely out of many mouths--
	How probable I do not know--that Marcius,
	Join'd with Aufidius, leads a power 'gainst Rome,
	And vows revenge as spacious as between
	The young'st and oldest thing.

SICINIUS	This is most likely!

BRUTUS	Raised only, that the weaker sort may wish
	Good Marcius home again.

SICINIUS	The very trick on't.

MENENIUS	This is unlikely:
	He and Aufidius can no more atone
	Than violentest contrariety.

	[Enter a second Messenger]

Second Messenger	You are sent for to the senate:
	A fearful army, led by Caius Marcius
	Associated with Aufidius, rages
	Upon our territories; and have already
	O'erborne their way, consumed with fire, and took
	What lay before them.

	[Enter COMINIUS]

COMINIUS	O, you have made good work!

MENENIUS	What news? what news?

COMINIUS	You have holp to ravish your own daughters and
	To melt the city leads upon your pates,
	To see your wives dishonour'd to your noses,--

MENENIUS	What's the news? what's the news?

COMINIUS	Your temples burned in their cement, and
	Your franchises, whereon you stood, confined
	Into an auger's bore.

MENENIUS	Pray now, your news?
	You have made fair work, I fear me.--Pray, your news?--
	If Marcius should be join'd with Volscians,--

COMINIUS	If!
	He is their god: he leads them like a thing
	Made by some other deity than nature,
	That shapes man better; and they follow him,
	Against us brats, with no less confidence
	Than boys pursuing summer butterflies,
	Or butchers killing flies.

MENENIUS	You have made good work,
	You and your apron-men; you that stood so up much
	on the voice of occupation and
	The breath of garlic-eaters!

COMINIUS	He will shake
	Your Rome about your ears.

MENENIUS	As Hercules
	Did shake down mellow fruit.
	You have made fair work!

BRUTUS	But is this true, sir?

COMINIUS	Ay; and you'll look pale
	Before you find it other. All the regions
	Do smilingly revolt; and who resist
	Are mock'd for valiant ignorance,
	And perish constant fools. Who is't can blame him?
	Your enemies and his find something in him.

MENENIUS	We are all undone, unless
	The noble man have mercy.

COMINIUS	Who shall ask it?
	The tribunes cannot do't for shame; the people
	Deserve such pity of him as the wolf
	Does of the shepherds: for his best friends, if they
	Should say 'Be good to Rome,' they charged him even
	As those should do that had deserved his hate,
	And therein show'd like enemies.

MENENIUS	'Tis true:
	If he were putting to my house the brand
	That should consume it, I have not the face
	To say 'Beseech you, cease.' You have made fair hands,
	You and your crafts! you have crafted fair!

COMINIUS	You have brought
	A trembling upon Rome, such as was never
	So incapable of help.

Both Tribunes	Say not we brought it.

MENENIUS	How! Was it we? we loved him but, like beasts
	And cowardly nobles, gave way unto your clusters,
	Who did hoot him out o' the city.

COMINIUS	But I fear
	They'll roar him in again. Tullus Aufidius,
	The second name of men, obeys his points
	As if he were his officer: desperation
	Is all the policy, strength and defence,
	That Rome can make against them.

	[Enter a troop of Citizens]

MENENIUS	Here come the clusters.
	And is Aufidius with him? You are they
	That made the air unwholesome, when you cast
	Your stinking greasy caps in hooting at
	Coriolanus' exile. Now he's coming;
	And not a hair upon a soldier's head
	Which will not prove a whip: as many coxcombs
	As you threw caps up will he tumble down,
	And pay you for your voices. 'Tis no matter;
	if he could burn us all into one coal,
	We have deserved it.

Citizens	Faith, we hear fearful news.

First Citizen	For mine own part,
	When I said, banish him, I said 'twas pity.

Second Citizen	And so did I.

Third Citizen	And so did I; and, to say the truth, so did very
	many of us: that we did, we did for the best; and
	though we willingly consented to his banishment, yet
	it was against our will.

COMINIUS	Ye re goodly things, you voices!

MENENIUS	You have made
	Good work, you and your cry! Shall's to the Capitol?

COMINIUS	O, ay, what else?

	[Exeunt COMINIUS and MENENIUS]

SICINIUS	Go, masters, get you home; be not dismay'd:
	These are a side that would be glad to have
	This true which they so seem to fear. Go home,
	And show no sign of fear.

First Citizen	The gods be good to us! Come, masters, let's home.
	I ever said we were i' the wrong when we banished
	him.

Second Citizen	So did we all. But, come, let's home.

	[Exeunt Citizens]

BRUTUS	I do not like this news.

SICINIUS	Nor I.

BRUTUS	Let's to the Capitol. Would half my wealth
	Would buy this for a lie!

SICINIUS	Pray, let us go.

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT IV



SCENE VII	A camp, at a small distance from Rome.


	[Enter AUFIDIUS and his Lieutenant]

AUFIDIUS	Do they still fly to the Roman?

Lieutenant	I do not know what witchcraft's in him, but
	Your soldiers use him as the grace 'fore meat,
	Their talk at table, and their thanks at end;
	And you are darken'd in this action, sir,
	Even by your own.

AUFIDIUS	                  I cannot help it now,
	Unless, by using means, I lame the foot
	Of our design. He bears himself more proudlier,
	Even to my person, than I thought he would
	When first I did embrace him: yet his nature
	In that's no changeling; and I must excuse
	What cannot be amended.

Lieutenant	Yet I wish, sir,--
	I mean for your particular,--you had not
	Join'd in commission with him; but either
	Had borne the action of yourself, or else
	To him had left it solely.

AUFIDIUS	I understand thee well; and be thou sure,
	when he shall come to his account, he knows not
	What I can urge against him. Although it seems,
	And so he thinks, and is no less apparent
	To the vulgar eye, that he bears all things fairly.
	And shows good husbandry for the Volscian state,
	Fights dragon-like, and does achieve as soon
	As draw his sword; yet he hath left undone
	That which shall break his neck or hazard mine,
	Whene'er we come to our account.

Lieutenant	Sir, I beseech you, think you he'll carry Rome?

AUFIDIUS	All places yield to him ere he sits down;
	And the nobility of Rome are his:
	The senators and patricians love him too:
	The tribunes are no soldiers; and their people
	Will be as rash in the repeal, as hasty
	To expel him thence. I think he'll be to Rome
	As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it
	By sovereignty of nature. First he was
	A noble servant to them; but he could not
	Carry his honours even: whether 'twas pride,
	Which out of daily fortune ever taints
	The happy man; whether defect of judgment,
	To fail in the disposing of those chances
	Which he was lord of; or whether nature,
	Not to be other than one thing, not moving
	From the casque to the cushion, but commanding peace
	Even with the same austerity and garb
	As he controll'd the war; but one of these--
	As he hath spices of them all, not all,
	For I dare so far free him--made him fear'd,
	So hated, and so banish'd: but he has a merit,
	To choke it in the utterance. So our virtues
	Lie in the interpretation of the time:
	And power, unto itself most commendable,
	Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair
	To extol what it hath done.
	One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail;
	Rights by rights falter, strengths by strengths do fail.
	Come, let's away. When, Caius, Rome is thine,
	Thou art poor'st of all; then shortly art thou mine.

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT V



SCENE I	Rome. A public place.


	[Enter MENENIUS, COMINIUS, SICINIUS, BRUTUS,
	and others]

MENENIUS	No, I'll not go: you hear what he hath said
	Which was sometime his general; who loved him
	In a most dear particular. He call'd me father:
	But what o' that? Go, you that banish'd him;
	A mile before his tent fall down, and knee
	The way into his mercy: nay, if he coy'd
	To hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home.

COMINIUS	He would not seem to know me.

MENENIUS	Do you hear?

COMINIUS	Yet one time he did call me by my name:
	I urged our old acquaintance, and the drops
	That we have bled together. Coriolanus
	He would not answer to: forbad all names;
	He was a kind of nothing, titleless,
	Till he had forged himself a name o' the fire
	Of burning Rome.

MENENIUS	Why, so: you have made good work!
	A pair of tribunes that have rack'd for Rome,
	To make coals cheap,--a noble memory!

COMINIUS	I minded him how royal 'twas to pardon
	When it was less expected: he replied,
	It was a bare petition of a state
	To one whom they had punish'd.

MENENIUS	Very well:
	Could he say less?

COMINIUS	I offer'd to awaken his regard
	For's private friends: his answer to me was,
	He could not stay to pick them in a pile
	Of noisome musty chaff: he said 'twas folly,
	For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt,
	And still to nose the offence.

MENENIUS	For one poor grain or two!
	I am one of those; his mother, wife, his child,
	And this brave fellow too, we are the grains:
	You are the musty chaff; and you are smelt
	Above the moon: we must be burnt for you.

SICINIUS	Nay, pray, be patient: if you refuse your aid
	In this so never-needed help, yet do not
	Upbraid's with our distress. But, sure, if you
	Would be your country's pleader, your good tongue,
	More than the instant army we can make,
	Might stop our countryman.

MENENIUS	No, I'll not meddle.

SICINIUS	Pray you, go to him.

MENENIUS	What should I do?

BRUTUS	Only make trial what your love can do
	For Rome, towards Marcius.

MENENIUS	Well, and say that Marcius
	Return me, as Cominius is return'd,
	Unheard; what then?
	But as a discontented friend, grief-shot
	With his unkindness? say't be so?

SICINIUS	Yet your good will
	must have that thanks from Rome, after the measure
	As you intended well.

MENENIUS	I'll undertake 't:
	I think he'll hear me. Yet, to bite his lip
	And hum at good Cominius, much unhearts me.
	He was not taken well; he had not dined:
	The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then
	We pout upon the morning, are unapt
	To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff'd
	These and these conveyances of our blood
	With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls
	Than in our priest-like fasts: therefore I'll watch him
	Till he be dieted to my request,
	And then I'll set upon him.

BRUTUS	You know the very road into his kindness,
	And cannot lose your way.

MENENIUS	Good faith, I'll prove him,
	Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledge
	Of my success.

	[Exit]

COMINIUS	                  He'll never hear him.

SICINIUS	Not?

COMINIUS	I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eye
	Red as 'twould burn Rome; and his injury
	The gaoler to his pity. I kneel'd before him;
	'Twas very faintly he said 'Rise;' dismiss'd me
	Thus, with his speechless hand: what he would do,
	He sent in writing after me; what he would not,
	Bound with an oath to yield to his conditions:
	So that all hope is vain.
	Unless his noble mother, and his wife;
	Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him
	For mercy to his country. Therefore, let's hence,
	And with our fair entreaties haste them on.

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT V



SCENE II	Entrance of the Volscian camp before Rome.
	Two Sentinels on guard.


	[Enter to them, MENENIUS]

First Senator	Stay: whence are you?

Second Senator	Stand, and go back.

MENENIUS	You guard like men; 'tis well: but, by your leave,
	I am an officer of state, and come
	To speak with Coriolanus.

First Senator	From whence?

MENENIUS	From Rome.

First Senator	You may not pass, you must return: our general
	Will no more hear from thence.

Second Senator	You'll see your Rome embraced with fire before
	You'll speak with Coriolanus.

MENENIUS	Good my friends,
	If you have heard your general talk of Rome,
	And of his friends there, it is lots to blanks,
	My name hath touch'd your ears it is Menenius.

First Senator	Be it so; go back: the virtue of your name
	Is not here passable.

MENENIUS	I tell thee, fellow,
	The general is my lover: I have been
	The book of his good acts, whence men have read
	His name unparallel'd, haply amplified;
	For I have ever verified my friends,
	Of whom he's chief, with all the size that verity
	Would without lapsing suffer: nay, sometimes,
	Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground,
	I have tumbled past the throw; and in his praise
	Have almost stamp'd the leasing: therefore, fellow,
	I must have leave to pass.

First Senator	Faith, sir, if you had told as many lies in his
	behalf as you have uttered words in your own, you
	should not pass here; no, though it were as virtuous
	to lie as to live chastely. Therefore, go back.

MENENIUS	Prithee, fellow, remember my name is Menenius,
	always factionary on the party of your general.

Second Senator	Howsoever you have been his liar, as you say you
	have, I am one that, telling true under him, must
	say, you cannot pass. Therefore, go back.

MENENIUS	Has he dined, canst thou tell? for I would not
	speak with him till after dinner.

First Senator	You are a Roman, are you?

MENENIUS	I am, as thy general is.

First Senator	Then you should hate Rome, as he does. Can you,
	when you have pushed out your gates the very
	defender of them, and, in a violent popular
	ignorance, given your enemy your shield, think to
	front his revenges with the easy groans of old
	women, the virginal palms of your daughters, or with
	the palsied intercession of such a decayed dotant as
	you seem to be? Can you think to blow out the
	intended fire your city is ready to flame in, with
	such weak breath as this? No, you are deceived;
	therefore, back to Rome, and prepare for your
	execution: you are condemned, our general has sworn
	you out of reprieve and pardon.

MENENIUS	Sirrah, if thy captain knew I were here, he would
	use me with estimation.

Second Senator	Come, my captain knows you not.

MENENIUS	I mean, thy general.

First Senator	My general cares not for you. Back, I say, go; lest
	I let forth your half-pint of blood; back,--that's
	the utmost of your having: back.

MENENIUS	Nay, but, fellow, fellow,--

	[Enter CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS]

CORIOLANUS	What's the matter?

MENENIUS	Now, you companion, I'll say an errand for you:
	You shall know now that I am in estimation; you shall
	perceive that a Jack guardant cannot office me from
	my son Coriolanus: guess, but by my entertainment
	with him, if thou standest not i' the state of
	hanging, or of some death more long in
	spectatorship, and crueller in suffering; behold now
	presently, and swoon for what's to come upon thee.

	[To CORIOLANUS]

	The glorious gods sit in hourly synod about thy
	particular prosperity, and love thee no worse than
	thy old father Menenius does! O my son, my son!
	thou art preparing fire for us; look thee, here's
	water to quench it. I was hardly moved to come to
	thee; but being assured none but myself could move
	thee, I have been blown out of your gates with
	sighs; and conjure thee to pardon Rome, and thy
	petitionary countrymen. The good gods assuage thy
	wrath, and turn the dregs of it upon this varlet
	here,--this, who, like a block, hath denied my
	access to thee.

CORIOLANUS	Away!

MENENIUS	How! away!

CORIOLANUS	Wife, mother, child, I know not. My affairs
	Are servanted to others: though I owe
	My revenge properly, my remission lies
	In Volscian breasts. That we have been familiar,
	Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison, rather
	Than pity note how much. Therefore, be gone.
	Mine ears against your suits are stronger than
	Your gates against my force. Yet, for I loved thee,
	Take this along; I writ it for thy sake

	[Gives a letter]

	And would have rent it. Another word, Menenius,
	I will not hear thee speak. This man, Aufidius,
	Was my beloved in Rome: yet thou behold'st!

AUFIDIUS	You keep a constant temper.

	[Exeunt CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS]

First Senator	Now, sir, is your name Menenius?

Second Senator	'Tis a spell, you see, of much power: you know the
	way home again.

First Senator	Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your
	greatness back?

Second Senator	What cause, do you think, I have to swoon?

MENENIUS	I neither care for the world nor your general: for
	such things as you, I can scarce think there's any,
	ye're so slight. He that hath a will to die by
	himself fears it not from another: let your general
	do his worst. For you, be that you are, long; and
	your misery increase with your age! I say to you,
	as I was said to, Away!

	[Exit]

First Senator	A noble fellow, I warrant him.

Second Senator	The worthy fellow is our general: he's the rock, the
	oak not to be wind-shaken.

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT V



SCENE III	The tent of Coriolanus.


	[Enter CORIOLANUS, AUFIDIUS, and others]

CORIOLANUS	We will before the walls of Rome tomorrow
	Set down our host. My partner in this action,
	You must report to the Volscian lords, how plainly
	I have borne this business.

AUFIDIUS	Only their ends
	You have respected; stopp'd your ears against
	The general suit of Rome; never admitted
	A private whisper, no, not with such friends
	That thought them sure of you.

CORIOLANUS	This last old man,
	Whom with a crack'd heart I have sent to Rome,
	Loved me above the measure of a father;
	Nay, godded me, indeed. Their latest refuge
	Was to send him; for whose old love I have,
	Though I show'd sourly to him, once more offer'd
	The first conditions, which they did refuse
	And cannot now accept; to grace him only
	That thought he could do more, a very little
	I have yielded to: fresh embassies and suits,
	Nor from the state nor private friends, hereafter
	Will I lend ear to. Ha! what shout is this?

	[Shout within]

	Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow
	In the same time 'tis made? I will not.

	[Enter in mourning habits, VIRGILIA, VOLUMNIA,
	leading young MARCIUS, VALERIA, and Attendants]

	My wife comes foremost; then the honour'd mould
	Wherein this trunk was framed, and in her hand
	The grandchild to her blood. But, out, affection!
	All bond and privilege of nature, break!
	Let it be virtuous to be obstinate.
	What is that curt'sy worth? or those doves' eyes,
	Which can make gods forsworn? I melt, and am not
	Of stronger earth than others. My mother bows;
	As if Olympus to a molehill should
	In supplication nod: and my young boy
	Hath an aspect of intercession, which
	Great nature cries 'Deny not.' let the Volsces
	Plough Rome and harrow Italy: I'll never
	Be such a gosling to obey instinct, but stand,
	As if a man were author of himself
	And knew no other kin.

VIRGILIA	My lord and husband!

CORIOLANUS	These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome.

VIRGILIA	The sorrow that delivers us thus changed
	Makes you think so.

CORIOLANUS	Like a dull actor now,
	I have forgot my part, and I am out,
	Even to a full disgrace. Best of my flesh,
	Forgive my tyranny; but do not say
	For that 'Forgive our Romans.' O, a kiss
	Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge!
	Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss
	I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip
	Hath virgin'd it e'er since. You gods! I prate,
	And the most noble mother of the world
	Leave unsaluted: sink, my knee, i' the earth;

	[Kneels]

	Of thy deep duty more impression show
	Than that of common sons.

VOLUMNIA	O, stand up blest!
	Whilst, with no softer cushion than the flint,
	I kneel before thee; and unproperly
	Show duty, as mistaken all this while
	Between the child and parent.

	[Kneels]

CORIOLANUS	What is this?
	Your knees to me? to your corrected son?
	Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach
	Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds
	Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun;
	Murdering impossibility, to make
	What cannot be, slight work.

VOLUMNIA	Thou art my warrior;
	I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady?

CORIOLANUS	The noble sister of Publicola,
	The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle
	That's curdied by the frost from purest snow
	And hangs on Dian's temple: dear Valeria!

VOLUMNIA	This is a poor epitome of yours,
	Which by the interpretation of full time
	May show like all yourself.

CORIOLANUS	The god of soldiers,
	With the consent of supreme Jove, inform
	Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou mayst prove
	To shame unvulnerable, and stick i' the wars
	Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw,
	And saving those that eye thee!

VOLUMNIA	Your knee, sirrah.

CORIOLANUS	That's my brave boy!

VOLUMNIA	Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself,
	Are suitors to you.

CORIOLANUS	I beseech you, peace:
	Or, if you'ld ask, remember this before:
	The thing I have forsworn to grant may never
	Be held by you denials. Do not bid me
	Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate
	Again with Rome's mechanics: tell me not
	Wherein I seem unnatural: desire not
	To ally my rages and revenges with
	Your colder reasons.

VOLUMNIA	O, no more, no more!
	You have said you will not grant us any thing;
	For we have nothing else to ask, but that
	Which you deny already: yet we will ask;
	That, if you fail in our request, the blame
	May hang upon your hardness: therefore hear us.

CORIOLANUS	Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark; for we'll
	Hear nought from Rome in private. Your request?

VOLUMNIA	Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment
	And state of bodies would bewray what life
	We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself
	How more unfortunate than all living women
	Are we come hither: since that thy sight,
	which should
	Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance
	with comforts,
	Constrains them weep and shake with fear and sorrow;
	Making the mother, wife and child to see
	The son, the husband and the father tearing
	His country's bowels out. And to poor we
	Thine enmity's most capital: thou barr'st us
	Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort
	That all but we enjoy; for how can we,
	Alas, how can we for our country pray.
	Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory,
	Whereto we are bound? alack, or we must lose
	The country, our dear nurse, or else thy person,
	Our comfort in the country. We must find
	An evident calamity, though we had
	Our wish, which side should win: for either thou
	Must, as a foreign recreant, be led
	With manacles thorough our streets, or else
	triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin,
	And bear the palm for having bravely shed
	Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son,
	I purpose not to wait on fortune till
	These wars determine: if I cannot persuade thee
	Rather to show a noble grace to both parts
	Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner
	March to assault thy country than to tread--
	Trust to't, thou shalt not--on thy mother's womb,
	That brought thee to this world.

VIRGILIA	Ay, and mine,
	That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name
	Living to time.

Young MARCIUS	A' shall not tread on me;
	I'll run away till I am bigger, but then I'll fight.

CORIOLANUS	Not of a woman's tenderness to be,
	Requires nor child nor woman's face to see.
	I have sat too long.

	[Rising]

VOLUMNIA	Nay, go not from us thus.
	If it were so that our request did tend
	To save the Romans, thereby to destroy
	The Volsces whom you serve, you might condemn us,
	As poisonous of your honour: no; our suit
	Is that you reconcile them: while the Volsces
	May say 'This mercy we have show'd;' the Romans,
	'This we received;' and each in either side
	Give the all-hail to thee and cry 'Be blest
	For making up this peace!' Thou know'st, great son,
	The end of war's uncertain, but this certain,
	That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit
	Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name,
	Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses;
	Whose chronicle thus writ: 'The man was noble,
	But with his last attempt he wiped it out;
	Destroy'd his country, and his name remains
	To the ensuing age abhorr'd.' Speak to me, son:
	Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour,
	To imitate the graces of the gods;
	To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' the air,
	And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt
	That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak?
	Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man
	Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speak you:
	He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, boy:
	Perhaps thy childishness will move him more
	Than can our reasons. There's no man in the world
	More bound to 's mother; yet here he lets me prate
	Like one i' the stocks. Thou hast never in thy life
	Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy,
	When she, poor hen, fond of no second brood,
	Has cluck'd thee to the wars and safely home,
	Loaden with honour. Say my request's unjust,
	And spurn me back: but if it be not so,
	Thou art not honest; and the gods will plague thee,
	That thou restrain'st from me the duty which
	To a mother's part belongs. He turns away:
	Down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees.
	To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride
	Than pity to our prayers. Down: an end;
	This is the last: so we will home to Rome,
	And die among our neighbours. Nay, behold 's:
	This boy, that cannot tell what he would have
	But kneels and holds up bands for fellowship,
	Does reason our petition with more strength
	Than thou hast to deny 't. Come, let us go:
	This fellow had a Volscian to his mother;
	His wife is in Corioli and his child
	Like him by chance. Yet give us our dispatch:
	I am hush'd until our city be a-fire,
	And then I'll speak a little.

	[He holds her by the hand, silent]

CORIOLANUS	O mother, mother!
	What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope,
	The gods look down, and this unnatural scene
	They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O!
	You have won a happy victory to Rome;
	But, for your son,--believe it, O, believe it,
	Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd,
	If not most mortal to him. But, let it come.
	Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars,
	I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius,
	Were you in my stead, would you have heard
	A mother less? or granted less, Aufidius?

AUFIDIUS	I was moved withal.

CORIOLANUS	I dare be sworn you were:
	And, sir, it is no little thing to make
	Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir,
	What peace you'll make, advise me: for my part,
	I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you; and pray you,
	Stand to me in this cause. O mother! wife!

AUFIDIUS	[Aside]  I am glad thou hast set thy mercy and
	thy honour
	At difference in thee: out of that I'll work
	Myself a former fortune.

	[The Ladies make signs to CORIOLANUS]

CORIOLANUS	Ay, by and by;

	[To VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, &c]

	But we will drink together; and you shall bear
	A better witness back than words, which we,
	On like conditions, will have counter-seal'd.
	Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve
	To have a temple built you: all the swords
	In Italy, and her confederate arms,
	Could not have made this peace.

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT V



SCENE IV	Rome. A public place.


	[Enter MENENIUS and SICINIUS]

MENENIUS	See you yond coign o' the Capitol, yond
	corner-stone?

SICINIUS	Why, what of that?

MENENIUS	If it be possible for you to displace it with your
	little finger, there is some hope the ladies of
	Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him.
	But I say there is no hope in't: our throats are
	sentenced and stay upon execution.

SICINIUS	Is't possible that so short a time can alter the
	condition of a man!

MENENIUS	There is differency between a grub and a butterfly;
	yet your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown
	from man to dragon: he has wings; he's more than a
	creeping thing.

SICINIUS	He loved his mother dearly.

MENENIUS	So did he me: and he no more remembers his mother
	now than an eight-year-old horse. The tartness
	of his face sours ripe grapes: when he walks, he
	moves like an engine, and the ground shrinks before
	his treading: he is able to pierce a corslet with
	his eye; talks like a knell, and his hum is a
	battery. He sits in his state, as a thing made for
	Alexander. What he bids be done is finished with
	his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but eternity
	and a heaven to throne in.

SICINIUS	Yes, mercy, if you report him truly.

MENENIUS	I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his
	mother shall bring from him: there is no more mercy
	in him than there is milk in a male tiger; that
	shall our poor city find: and all this is long of
	you.

SICINIUS	The gods be good unto us!

MENENIUS	No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto
	us. When we banished him, we respected not them;
	and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us.

	[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger	Sir, if you'ld save your life, fly to your house:
	The plebeians have got your fellow-tribune
	And hale him up and down, all swearing, if
	The Roman ladies bring not comfort home,
	They'll give him death by inches.

	[Enter a second Messenger]

SICINIUS	What's the news?

Second Messenger	Good news, good news; the ladies have prevail'd,
	The Volscians are dislodged, and Marcius gone:
	A merrier day did never yet greet Rome,
	No, not the expulsion of the Tarquins.

SICINIUS	Friend,
	Art thou certain this is true? is it most certain?

Second Messenger	As certain as I know the sun is fire:
	Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt of it?
	Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide,
	As the recomforted through the gates. Why, hark you!

	[Trumpets; hautboys; drums beat; all together]

	The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries and fifes,
	Tabours and cymbals and the shouting Romans,
	Make the sun dance. Hark you!

	[A shout within]

MENENIUS	This is good news:
	I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia
	Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians,
	A city full; of tribunes, such as you,
	A sea and land full. You have pray'd well to-day:
	This morning for ten thousand of your throats
	I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy!

	[Music still, with shouts]

SICINIUS	First, the gods bless you for your tidings; next,
	Accept my thankfulness.

Second Messenger	Sir, we have all
	Great cause to give great thanks.

SICINIUS	They are near the city?

Second Messenger	Almost at point to enter.

SICINIUS	We will meet them,
	And help the joy.

	[Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT V



SCENE V	The same. A street near the gate.


	[Enter two Senators with VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA,
	VALERIA, &c. passing over the stage,
	followed by Patricians and others]

First Senator	Behold our patroness, the life of Rome!
	Call all your tribes together, praise the gods,
	And make triumphant fires; strew flowers before them:
	Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius,
	Repeal him with the welcome of his mother;
	Cry 'Welcome, ladies, welcome!'

All	Welcome, ladies, Welcome!

	[A flourish with drums and trumpets. Exeunt]




	CORIOLANUS


ACT V



SCENE VI	Antium. A public place.


	[Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, with Attendants]

AUFIDIUS	Go tell the lords o' the city I am here:
	Deliver them this paper: having read it,
	Bid them repair to the market place; where I,
	Even in theirs and in the commons' ears,
	Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse
	The city ports by this hath enter'd and
	Intends to appear before the people, hoping
	To purge herself with words: dispatch.

	[Exeunt Attendants]

	[Enter three or four Conspirators of AUFIDIUS' faction]

	Most welcome!

First Conspirator	How is it with our general?

AUFIDIUS	Even so
	As with a man by his own alms empoison'd,
	And with his charity slain.

Second Conspirator	Most noble sir,
	If you do hold the same intent wherein
	You wish'd us parties, we'll deliver you
	Of your great danger.

AUFIDIUS	Sir, I cannot tell:
	We must proceed as we do find the people.

Third Conspirator	The people will remain uncertain whilst
	'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either
	Makes the survivor heir of all.

AUFIDIUS	I know it;
	And my pretext to strike at him admits
	A good construction. I raised him, and I pawn'd
	Mine honour for his truth: who being so heighten'd,
	He water'd his new plants with dews of flattery,
	Seducing so my friends; and, to this end,
	He bow'd his nature, never known before
	But to be rough, unswayable and free.

Third Conspirator	Sir, his stoutness
	When he did stand for consul, which he lost
	By lack of stooping,--

AUFIDIUS	That I would have spoke of:
	Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth;
	Presented to my knife his throat: I took him;
	Made him joint-servant with me; gave him way
	In all his own desires; nay, let him choose
	Out of my files, his projects to accomplish,
	My best and freshest men; served his designments
	In mine own person; holp to reap the fame
	Which he did end all his; and took some pride
	To do myself this wrong: till, at the last,
	I seem'd his follower, not partner, and
	He waged me with his countenance, as if
	I had been mercenary.

First Conspirator	So he did, my lord:
	The army marvell'd at it, and, in the last,
	When he had carried Rome and that we look'd
	For no less spoil than glory,--

AUFIDIUS	There was it:
	For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him.
	At a few drops of women's rheum, which are
	As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour
	Of our great action: therefore shall he die,
	And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark!

	[Drums and trumpets sound, with great shouts of
	the People]

First Conspirator	Your native town you enter'd like a post,
	And had no welcomes home: but he returns,
	Splitting the air with noise.

Second Conspirator	And patient fools,
	Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear
	With giving him glory.

Third Conspirator	Therefore, at your vantage,
	Ere he express himself, or move the people
	With what he would say, let him feel your sword,
	Which we will second. When he lies along,
	After your way his tale pronounced shall bury
	His reasons with his body.

AUFIDIUS	Say no more:
	Here come the lords.

	[Enter the Lords of the city]

All The Lords	You are most welcome home.

AUFIDIUS	I have not deserved it.
	But, worthy lords, have you with heed perused
	What I have written to you?

Lords	We have.

First Lord	And grieve to hear't.
	What faults he made before the last, I think
	Might have found easy fines: but there to end
	Where he was to begin and give away
	The benefit of our levies, answering us
	With our own charge, making a treaty where
	There was a yielding,--this admits no excuse.

AUFIDIUS	He approaches: you shall hear him.

	[Enter CORIOLANUS, marching with drum and
	colours; commoners being with him]

CORIOLANUS	Hail, lords! I am return'd your soldier,
	No more infected with my country's love
	Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting
	Under your great command. You are to know
	That prosperously I have attempted and
	With bloody passage led your wars even to
	The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought home
	Do more than counterpoise a full third part
	The charges of the action. We have made peace
	With no less honour to the Antiates
	Than shame to the Romans: and we here deliver,
	Subscribed by the consuls and patricians,
	Together with the seal o' the senate, what
	We have compounded on.

AUFIDIUS	Read it not, noble lords;
	But tell the traitor, in the high'st degree
	He hath abused your powers.

CORIOLANUS	Traitor! how now!

AUFIDIUS	                  Ay, traitor, Marcius!

CORIOLANUS	Marcius!

AUFIDIUS	Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius: dost thou think
	I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name
	Coriolanus in Corioli?
	You lords and heads o' the state, perfidiously
	He has betray'd your business, and given up,
	For certain drops of salt, your city Rome,
	I say 'your city,' to his wife and mother;
	Breaking his oath and resolution like
	A twist of rotten silk, never admitting
	Counsel o' the war, but at his nurse's tears
	He whined and roar'd away your victory,
	That pages blush'd at him and men of heart
	Look'd wondering each at other.

CORIOLANUS	Hear'st thou, Mars?

AUFIDIUS	Name not the god, thou boy of tears!

CORIOLANUS	Ha!

AUFIDIUS	No more.

CORIOLANUS	Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart
	Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave!
	Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever
	I was forced to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords,
	Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion--
	Who wears my stripes impress'd upon him; that
	Must bear my beating to his grave--shall join
	To thrust the lie unto him.

First Lord	Peace, both, and hear me speak.

CORIOLANUS	Cut me to pieces, Volsces; men and lads,
	Stain all your edges on me. Boy! false hound!
	If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,
	That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I
	Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli:
	Alone I did it. Boy!

AUFIDIUS	Why, noble lords,
	Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune,
	Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart,
	'Fore your own eyes and ears?

All Conspirators	Let him die for't.

All The People	'Tear him to pieces.' 'Do it presently.' 'He kill'd
	my son.' 'My daughter.' 'He killed my cousin
	Marcus.' 'He killed my father.'

Second Lord	Peace, ho! no outrage: peace!
	The man is noble and his fame folds-in
	This orb o' the earth. His last offences to us
	Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius,
	And trouble not the peace.

CORIOLANUS	O that I had him,
	With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe,
	To use my lawful sword!

AUFIDIUS	Insolent villain!

All Conspirators	Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him!

	[The Conspirators draw, and kill CORIOLANUS:
	AUFIDIUS stands on his body]

Lords	Hold, hold, hold, hold!

AUFIDIUS	My noble masters, hear me speak.

First Lord	O Tullus,--

Second Lord	Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep.

Third Lord	Tread not upon him. Masters all, be quiet;
	Put up your swords.

AUFIDIUS	My lords, when you shall know--as in this rage,
	Provoked by him, you cannot--the great danger
	Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice
	That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours
	To call me to your senate, I'll deliver
	Myself your loyal servant, or endure
	Your heaviest censure.

First Lord	Bear from hence his body;
	And mourn you for him: let him be regarded
	As the most noble corse that ever herald
	Did follow to his urn.

Second Lord	His own impatience
	Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame.
	Let's make the best of it.

AUFIDIUS	My rage is gone;
	And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up.
	Help, three o' the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.
	Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully:
	Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he
	Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one,
	Which to this hour bewail the injury,
	Yet he shall have a noble memory. Assist.

	[Exeunt, bearing the body of CORIOLANUS. A dead
	march sounded]




	GLOSSARY


ABATE	to shorten
	To cast down
	To blunt
ABATEMENT	diminution
ABHOR	protest; disgust
ABIDE	to sojourn
	to expiate
ABLE	to uphold
ABRIDGEMENT	a short play
ABROAD	away, apart
ABROOK	to brook, abide
ABSEY-BOOK	a primer
ABSOLUTE	positive, certain
	Complete
ABUSE	to deceive
ABUSE	deception
ABY	to expiate a fault
ABYSM	abyss
ACCITE	to cite, summon
ACCUSE	accusation
ACHIEVE	to obtain
ACKNOWN	'to be acknown' is to acknowledge
ACQUITTANCE	a receipt or discharge
ACTION-TAKING	litigious
ACTURE	action
ADDITION	title, attribute
ADDRESS	to prepare oneself
ADDRESSED	prepared
ADVANCE	to prefer, promote to honour
ADVERTISEMENT	admonition
ADVERTISING	attentive
ADVICE	consideration, discretion
ADVISE	sometimes neuter, sometimes reflective, to
	consider, reflect
ADVISED	considerate
ADVOCATION	pleading, advocacy
AFEARED	afraid
AFFECT	to love
AFFY	to affiance
	To trust
AFRONT	in front
AGAZED	looking in amazement
AGLET-BABY	the small figure engraved on a jewel
AGNISE	to acknowledge, confess
A-GOOD	a good deal, plenteously
A-HOLD	a sea-term
AIERIE	the nest of a bird of prey
AIM	a guess
ALDER-LIEFEST	most loved of all
ALE	alehouse
ALLOW	to approve
ALLOWANCE	approval
AMES-ACE	two aces, the lowest throw of the dice
AMORT	dead, dejected
AN	if
ANCHOR	an anchorite, hermit
ANCIENT	an ensign-bearer
ANGEL	a coin, so called because it bore the image of
	an angel
ANIGHT	by night
ANSWER	retaliation
ANTHROPOPHAGINIAN	a cannibal
ANTICK	the fool in the old plays
ANTRE	a cave
APPARENT	heir-apparent
APPEAL	accusation
APPEAL	to accuse
APPEARED	made apparent
APPLE-JOHN	a kind of apple
APPOINTMENT	preparation
APPREHENSION	opinion
APPREHENSIVE	apt to apprehend or understand
APPROBATION	probation
APPROOF	approbation, proof
APPROVE	to prove
	To justify, make good
APPROVER	one who proves or tries
ARCH	chief
ARGAL	a ridiculous word intended for the Latin ergo
ARGENTINE	silver
ARGIER	Algiers
ARGOSY	originally a vessel of Ragusa or Ragosa, a
	Ragosine; hence any ship of burden
ARGUMENT	subject
ARMIGERO	a mistake for Armiger, the Latin for Esquire
AROINT	found only in the imperative mood, get thee
	gone
A-ROW	in a row
ARTICULATE	to enter into articles of agreement
	to exhibit in articles
ASK	to require
ASPECT	regard, looks
ASPERSION	sprinkling; hence blessing, because before the
	Reformation benediction was generally accompanied
	by the sprinkling of holy water
ASSAY	attempt
ASSAY	to attempt, test, make proof of
ASSINEGO	an ass
ASSUBJUGATE	to subjugate
ASSURANCE	deed of assurance
ASSURED	betrothed
ATOMY	an atom
	Used in contempt of a small person
ATONE	to put people at one, to reconcile
	to agree
ATTACH	to seize, lay hold on
ATTASKED	taken to task, reprehended
ATTEND	to listen to
ATTENT	attentive
ATTORNEY	an agent
ATTORNEY	to employ as an agent
	To perform by an agent
AUDACIOUS	spirited, daring, but without any note of blame
	attached to it
AUGUR	augury
AUTHENTIC	clothed with authority
AVAUNT	int. be gone, a word of abhorrence
AVE	the Latin for hail; hence acclamation
AVE-MARY	the angelic salutation addressed to the Blessed
	Virgin Mary
AVERRING	confirming
AVOID	get rid of
AWFUL	worshipful
AWKWARD	contrary


BACCARE	keep back
BACKWARD	the hinder part; hence, when applied to time,
	the past
BAFFLE	embarrass
BALKED	heaped, as on a ridge
BALLOW	a cudgel
BALM	the oil of consecration
BAN	to curse
BANK	to sail by the banks
BARM	yeast
BARN	a child
BARNACLE	a shellfish, supposed to produce the sea-bird
	of the same name
BASE	a game, sometimes called Prisoners' base
BASES	an embroidered mantle worn by knights on
	horseback, and reaching from the middle to
	below the knees
BASILISK	a kind of ordnance
BASTA	enough
BASTARD	raisin wine
BATE	to flutter, as a hawk
BATE	to except
	To abate
BAT-FOWLING	catching birds with a clap-net by night
BATLET	a small bat, used for beating clothes
BATTLE	army
BAVIN	used as an a piece of waste wood, applied
	contemptuously to anything worthless
	
BAWCOCK	a fine fellow
BAWD	procurer
BAY	the space between the main timbers of the roof
BEADSMAN	one who bids bedes, that is, prays prayers
	for another
BEARING-CLOTH	a rich cloth in which children were wrapt at
	their christening
BEAT	to flutter as a falcon, to meditate, consider
	earnestly
BEAVER	the lower part of a helmet
BEETLE	a mallet
BEING	dwelling
BEING	since, inasmuch as
BE-METE	to measure
BE-MOILED	daubed with dirt
BENDING	stooping under a weight
BENVENUTO	(Italian), welcome
BERGOMASK	a rustic dance
BESHREW	evil befal
BESTRAUGHT	distraught, distracted
BETEEM	to pour out
BETID	happened
BEZONIAN	a beggarly fellow
BIDING	abiding-place
BIGGEN	a night-cap
BILBERRY	the whortleberry
BILBO	a sword, from Bilboa, a town in Spain where
	they were made
BILBOES	fetters or stocks
BILL	a bill-hook, a weapon
BIN	been, are
BIRD-BOLT	a bolt to be shot from a crossbow at birds
BIRDING	part. hawking at partridges
BISSON	blind
BLANK	the white mark in the middle of a target;
	hence, metaphorically, that which is aimed at
BLENCH	to start aside, flinch
BLENT	blended
BLOOD-BOLTERED	smeared with blood
BLOW	to inflate
BOARD	to make advances to; accost
BOB	a blow, metaph. a sarcasm
BOB	to strike, metaph. to ridicule, or to obtain
	by raillery
BODGE	to botch, bungle
BODIKIN	a corrupt word used as an oath. 'Od's Bodikin,'
	God's little Body
BOITIER VERT	green box
BOLD	to embolden
BOLLEN	swollen
BOLTED	sifted, refined
BOLTER	a sieve
BOLTING-HUTCH	a hutch in which meal was sifted
BOMBARD	a barrel, a drunkard
BOMBAST	padding
BONA-ROBA	a harlot
BOND	that to which one is bound
BOOK	a paper of conditions
BOOT	help, use
BOOT	to help, to avail
BOOTLESS	without boot or advantage, useless
BOOTS	bots, a kind of worm
BORE	calibre of a gun; hence, metaph. size, weight,
	importance
BOSKY	covered with underwood
BOSOM	wish, heart's desire
BOTS	worms which infest horses
BOURN	a boundary
	A brook
BRACE	armour for the arm, state of defence
BRACH	a hound bitch
BRAID	deceitful
BRAVE	handsome, well-dressed
BRAVE	boast
BRAVERY	finery
	Boastfulness
BRAWL	a kind of dance
BREAST	voice
BREATHE	to exercise
BREATHING	exercising
BREECHING	liable to be whipt
BREED-BATE	a breeder of debate, a fomenter of quarrels
BREESE	the gadfly
BRIBE-BUCK	a buck given away in presents
BRING	to attend one on a journey
BROCK	a badger, a term of contempt
BROKE	to act as a procurer
BROKEN	having lost some teeth by age
BROKEN MUSIC	the music of stringed instruments
BROKER	an agent
BROTHERHOOD	trading company
BROWNIST	a sectary, a follower of Brown, the founder
	of the Independents
BRUIT	noise, report, rumour
BRUIT	to noise abroad
BRUSH	rude assault
BUCK	suds or lye for washing clothes in
BUCK-BASKET	the basket in which clothes are carried to the
	wash
BUCKING	washing
BUCK-WASHING	washing in lye
BUG	a bugbear, a spectre
BULLY-ROOK	a bragging cheater
BURGONET	a kind of helmet
BURST	to break
BUSKY	bushy
BUTT-SHAFT	a light arrow for shooting at a target
	
BUXOM	obedient
BY'RLAKIN	by our little Lady: an oath


CADDIS	worsted galloon, so called because it resembles
	the caddis-worm
CADE	a cask or barrel
CAGE	a prison
CAIN-COLOURED	red (applied to hair)
CAITIFF	a captive, a slave; hence, a witch
CALCULATE	prophesy
CALIVER	a hand-gun
CALLET	a trull
CALLING	appellation
CALM	qualm
CAN	to know, be skillful in
CANAKIN	a little can
CANARY	a wine brought from the Canary Islands
CANDLE-WASTERS	persons who sit up all night to drink
CANKER	a caterpillar
	The dog-rose
CANSTICK	a candlestick
CANTLE	a slice, corner
CANTON	a canto
CANVAS	to sift: hence, metaphorically, to prove
CAPABLE	subject to
	Intelligent
	Capable of inheriting
	Ample, capacious
CAPITULATE	make a combined force
CAPOCCHIA	a simpleton
CAPRICIO	caprice
CAPRICIOUS	lascivious
CAPTIOUS	capacious
CARACK	a large ship of burden
CARBONADO	meat scotched for broiling
CARBONADO	to scotch for broiling
CARD	the taper on which the points of the compass
	are marked under the mariner's needle
CAREIRE	the curvetting of a horse
CARKANET	a necklace
CARL	a churl
CARLOT	a churl
CASTILIAN	a native of Castile; used as a cant term
CASTILIANO VULGO	a cant term, meaning, apparently, to use discreet
	language
CATAIAN	a native of Cathay, a cant word
CATLING	cat-gut
CAUTEL	deceit
CAUTELOUS	insidious
CAVALERO	a cavalier, gentleman
CAVIARE	the roe of sturgeon pickled; metaph. a delicacy
	not appreciated by the vulgar
CEASE	decease
CEASE	put off, made to cease
CENSURE	judgment
CENSURE	to judge, criticise
CENTURY	a hundred of anything, whether men, prayers, or
	anything else
CEREMONY	a ceremonial vestment, religious rite, or
	anything ceremonial
CERTES	certainly
CESS	rate, reckoning
CHACE	a term at tennis
CHAMBER	a species of great gun
CHAMBERER	an effeminate man
CHANSON	a song
CHARACT	affected quality
CHARACTER	a letter, handwriting
CHARACTER	to carve or engrave
CHARACTERY	handwriting
	That which is written
CHARE	a turn of work
CHARGE-HOUSE	a free-school
CHARLES' WAIN	the constellation called also Ursa Major, or
	the Great Bear
CHARNECO	a species of sweet wine
CHAUDRON	entrails
CHEATER	for escheator, an officer who collected the
	fines to be paid into the Exchequer
	A decoy
CHEQUE	a technical term in falconry; when a falcon
	flies at a bird which is not her proper game she
	is said to cheque at it
CHEQUES	perhaps intended for ethics
CHEER	fortune, countenance
CHERRY-PIT	a game played with cherrystones
CHEVERIL	kid leather
CHEWIT	cough
CHILDING	pregnant
CH'ILL	vulgar for 'I will.' 
CHIRURGEONLY	in a manner becoming a surgeon
CHOPIN	a high shoe or clog
CHRISTENDOM	the state of being a Christian
CHRISTOM	clothed with a chrisom, the white garment
	which used to be put on newly-baptized children
CHUCK	chicken, a term of endearment
CHUFF	a coarse blunt clown
CINQUE PACE	a kind of dance
CIPHER	to decipher
CIRCUMSTANCE	an argument
CITAL	recital
CITE	to incite
CITTERN	a guitar
CLACK-DISH	a beggar's dish
CLAP I' THE CLOUT	to shoot an arrow into the bull's eye of the target
CLAW	to flatter
CLEPE	to call
CLIFF	clef, the key in music
CLING	to starve
CLINQUANT	glittering
CLIP	to embrace, enclose
CLOUT	the mark in the middle of a target
COAST	to advance
COBLOAF	a big loaf
COCK	a cockboat
COCK	a euphemism for God
COCK-AND-PIE	an oath
COCKLE	tares or darnel
COCKNEY	a cook
COCK-SHUT-TIME	the twilight, when cocks and hens go to roost
COG	to cheat, dissemble
COGNIZANCE	badge, token
COIGN	projecting corner stone
COIL	tumult, turmoil
COLLECTION	drawing a conclusion
COLLIED	blackened. Othello; 
COLOUR	pretence
COLOURABLE	specious
COLT	to defraud, befool
CO-MART	a joint bargain
COMBINATE	betrothed
COMBINE	to bind
COMMODITY	interest, profit
COMMONTY	used ludicrously for comedy
COMPACT	compacted, composed
COMPARATIVE	drawing comparisons
COMPARATIVE	rival
COMPARE	comparison
COMPASSIONATE	moving comparison
COMPETITOR	one who seeks the same thing, an associate in
	any object
COMPLEMENT	accomplishment
COMPLEXION	passion
COMPOSE	to agree
COMPOSTION	composition
COMPTIBLE	tractable
CON	to learn by heart
	To acknowledge
CONCEIT	conception, opinion, fancy
CONCUPY	concubine
CONDITION	temper, quality
CONDOLEMENT	grief
CONDUCT	escort
CONFECT	to make up into sweetmeats
CONFOUND	to consume, destroy
	Coriolanus; 
CONJECT	conjecture
CONSIGN	to sign a common bond, to confederate
CONSORT	company
CONSORT	to accompany
CONSTANCY	consistency
CONSTANT	settled, determined
CONSTANTLY	firmly
CONSTER	to construe
CONTEMPTIBLE	contemptuous
CONTINENT	that which contains anything
	That which is contained
CONTINUATE	uninterrupted
CONTRACTION	the marriage contract
CONTRARY	to oppose
CONTRIVE	to conspire
	to wear away
CONTROL	to confute
CONVENT	to convene, summon
	to be convenient
CONVERT	to change
CONVERTITE	a convert
CONVEY	to manage
	To filch
CONVEYANCE	theft, fraud
CONVICT	convicted
CONVICTED	overpowered, vanquished
	A doubtful word
CONVINCE	to conquer, subdue
CONVIVE	to feast together
CONVOY	escort
CONY-CATCH	to cheat
CONY-CATCHING	poaching, pilfering
COOLING CARD	used metaphorically for an insurmountable obstacle
COPATAIN HAT	a high-crowned hat
COPE	to reward, to give in return
COPY	theme
CORAGIO	courage! 
CORAM	an ignorant mistake for Quorum
CORANTO	lively dance
CORINTH	a cant term for a brothel
CORINTHIAN	a wencher
CORKY	dry like cork
CORNUTO	a cuckold
COROLLARY	a surplus
CORPORAL	corporeal, bodily
CORPORAL
OF THE FIELD	an aide-de-camp
CORRIVAL	rival
COSTARD	the head
COSTER-MONGER	peddling, mercenary
COTE	a cottage
COTE	to quote, instance
COTE	to come alongside, overtake
COT-QUEAN	an effeminate man, molly-coddle
COUCHINGS	crouchings
COUNT CONFECT	a nobleman composed of affectation
COUNTENANCE	fair shew
COUNTERFEIT	portrait
	A piece of base coin
COUNTERPOINT	a counterpane
COUNTERVAIL	to counterpoise, outweigh
COUNTRY	belonging to one's country
COUNTY	count, earl
COUPLEMENT	union
COURT HOLY-WATER	flattery
COVENT	a convent
COVER	to lay the table for dinner
COWISH	cowardly
COWL-STAFF	the staff on which a vessel is supported
	between two men
COX MY PASSION	an oath, a euphemism for 'God's Passion.'
COY	to stroke, fondle
	to condescend with difficulty
COYSTRIL	a kestrel, a cowardly kind of hawk
COZEN	to cheat
COZENAGE	cheating
COZENER	a cheater
COZIER	a tailor
CRACK	to boast
CRACK	a loud noise, clap
	A forward boy
CRACKER	boaster
CRACK-HEMP	a gallows-bird
CRANK	a winding passage
CRANKING	winding
CRANTS	garlands.  A doubtful word
CRARE	a ship of burden
CRAVEN	a dunghill cock
CREATE	formed, compounded
CREDENT	creditable
	Credible
	Credulous
CREDIT	report
CRESCIVE	increasing
CRESTLESS	not entitled to bear arms, lowborn
CRISP	curled, winding
CROSS	a piece of money, so called because the coin
	was formerly stamped with a cross
CROW-KEEPER	one who scares crows
CROWNER	a coroner
CROWNET	a coronet
CRY	the yelping of hounds
	A pack of hounds
	A company, use contemptuously
CRY AIM	to encourage
CUE	the last words of an actor's speech, which
	is the signal for the next actor to begin
CUISSES	pieces of armour to cover the thighs
CULLION	a base fellow
CUNNING	skill
CUNNING	skilful
CURB	to bend, truckle
CURRENTS	occurrences
CURST	
CURSTNESS	shrewishness
CURTAIL	a cur
CURTAL	a docked horse
CURTAL-AXE	a cutlass
CUSTALORUM	a ludicrous mistake for Custos Rotulorum
CUSTARD-COFFIN	the crust of a custard-pudding
CUSTOMER	a common woman
CUT	a cheat
	'To draw cuts' is to draw lots
CYPRESS	a kind of crape


DAFF	to befool
	To put off; this seems to be a corruption of 'doff.'
DAMN	to condemn
DANGER	reach, control, power
DANSKER	a Dane
DARE	to challenge
DARKLING	in the dark
DARRAIGN	to set in array
DAUB	to disguise
DAUBERY	imposition
DAY-WOMAN	a dairy-maid
DEAR	dire
	That which has to do with the affections
	Piteous
	Important
DEARN	lonely
DEBOSHED	debauched, drunken
DECK	to bedew. This is probably a form of the verb
	'to dag,' now a provincial word
DECK	a pack of cards
DECLINE	to enumerate, as in going through the cases of
	a noun
DECLINED	fallen
DEEM	doom, judgment
DEFEAT	to undo, destroy
DEFEAT	destruction
DEFEATURE	disfigurement
DEFENCE	art of fencing
DEFEND	to forbid
DEFENSIBLE	having the power to defend
DEFTLY	dexterously
DEFY	renounce
DEGREES	a step
DELAY	to let slip by delaying
DEMERIT	merit, desert
DEMURELY	solemnly
DENAY	denial
DENIER	the 12th part of a French sol coin
DENOTEMENT	marking
	Note or manifestation
DENY	to refuse
DEPART	departure
DEPART	to part
DEPARTING	parting, separation
DEPEND	to be in service
DERIVED	born, descended
DEROGATE	degraded
DESCANT	a variation upon a melody, hence,
	metaphorically, a comment on a given theme
DESIGN	to draw up articles
DESPATCH	to deprive, bereave
DESPERATE	determined, bold
DETECT	to charge, blame
DETERMINE	to conclude
DICH	optative mood, perhaps contracted for 'do it.'
DIET	food regulated by the rules of medicine
DIET	to have one's food regulated by the rules of
	medicine
DIFFUSED	confused
DIGRESSING	transgressing, going out of the right way
DIGRESSION	transgression
DIG-YOU-GOOD-DEN	give you good evening
DILDO	the chorus or burden of a song
DINT	stroke
DIRECTION	judgment, skill
DISABLE	to disparage
DISAPPOINTED	unprepared
DISCASE	to undress
DISCONTENT	a malcontent
DISCOURSE	power of reasoning
DISDAINED	disdainful
DISLIMN	to disfigure, transform
DISME	a tenth or tithe
DISPARK	to destroy a park
DISPONGE	to squeeze out as from a sponge
DISPOSE	disposal
DISPOSE	to conspire
DISPOSITION	maintenance
DISPUTABLE	disputatious
DISPUTE	to argue, examine
DISSEMBLY	used ridiculously for assembly
DISTASTE	to corrupt
DISTEMPERED	discontented
DISTRACTION	a detached troop or company of soldiers
DISTRAUGHT	distracted, mad
DIVERTED	turned from the natural course
DIVISION	a phrase or passage in a melody
DIVULGED	published, spoken of
DOFF	to do off, strip
	To put off with an excuse
DOLT	a small Dutch coin
DOLE	portion dealt
	Grief, lamentation
DON	to do on, put on
DONE	'done to death,' put to death
DOTANT	one who dotes, a dotard
DOUT	to do out, quench
DOWLAS	a kind of coarse sacking
DOWLE	the swirl of a feather
DOWN-GYVED	hanging down like gyves or fetters
DRAB	a harlot
DRABBING	whoring
DRAUGHT	a privy
DRAWN	having his sword drawn
DRAWN	drunk, having taken a good draught
DRIBBLING	weak
DRIVE	to rush impetuously
DROLLERY	a puppet-show
DRUMBLE	to dawdle
DRY	thirsty
DUC-DAME	perhaps the Latin duc-ad-me, bring him to me
DUDGEON	a dagger
DULL	soothing
DULLARD	a dull person
DUMP	complaint
DUP	to do up, Lift up


EAGER	sour
	Harsh
	Biting
EANLING	a yeanling, a lamb
EAR	to plough
ECHE	to eke out
EFT	ready, convenient
EISEL	vinegar
ELD	old age
EMBOSSED	swollen into protuberances
	Covered with foam
EMBOWELLED	disembowelled, emptied
EMBRASURE	embrace
EMINENCE	exalted station
EMPERY	empire
EMULATION	jealousy, mutiny
EMULOUS	jealous
ENCAVE	to place oneself in a cave
END	'Still an end,' continually for ever
ENFEOFF	to place in possession in fee simple
ENGINE	a machine of war
ENGLUT	to swallow speedily
ENGROSS	to make gross or fat
ENGROSSMENT	immoderate acquisition
ENKINDLE	to make keen
ENMEW	to shut up, as a hawk is shut up in a mew
ENSCONCE	to cover as with a fort
ENSEAMED	fat, rank
ENSHIELD	hidden
ENTERTAIN	encounter
	Experience
ENTERTAINMENT	treatment
	A disposition to entertain a proposal
	Service
ENTREATMENTS	interviews
EPHESIAN	a toper, a cant term
EQUIPAGE	attendance
EREWHILE	a short time since
ESCOT	to pay a man's reckoning, to maintain
ESPERANCE	hope, used as a war-cry
ESPIAL	a scout or spy
ESTIMATION	conjecture
ESTRIDGE	ostridge
ETERNE	eternal
EVEN	coequal
EVEN	to equal
EXAMINE	to question
EXCREMENT	that which grows outwardly from the body
	and has no sensation like the hair or nails
	Any outward show
EXECUTOR	an executioner
EXEMPT	excluded
EXERCISE	a religious service
EXHALE	to hale or draw out
	to draw the sword
EXHIBITION	allowance, pension
EXIGENT	death, ending
EXION	ridiculously used for 'action.' 
EXPECT	expectation
EXPEDIENCE	expedition, undertaking
	Haste
EXPEDIENT	expeditious, swift
EXPIATE	completed
EXPOSTULATE	to expound, discuss
EXPOSTURE	exposure
EXPRESS	to reveal
EXPULSE	to expel
EXSUFFICATE	that which has been hissed off, contemptible
EXTEND	to seize
EXTENT	a seizure
EXTERN	outward
EXTIRP	to extirpate
EXTRACTING	distracting
EXTRAUGHT	part. extracted, descended
EXTRAVAGANT	foreign, wandering
EXTREMES	extravagance of conduct
	Extremities
EYAS	a nestling hawk
EYAS-MUSKET	a nestling of the musket or merlin, the smallest
	species of British hawk
EYE	a glance, oeillad
EYE	a shade of colour, as in shot silk
EYNE	eyes


FACINOROUS	wicked
FACT	guilt
FACTIOUS	instant, importunate
FACULTY	essential virtue or power
FADGE	to suit
FADING	a kind of ending to a song
FAIN	glad
FAIN	gladly
FAIR	beauty
FAITOR	a traitor
FAll	to let fall
FALLOW	fawn-coloured
FALSE	falsehood
FALSING	deceptive
FAMILIAR	a familiar spirit
FANCY	
FANCY-FREE	untouched by love
FANG	to seize in the teeth
FANTASTIC	a fantastical person
FAP	drunk
FAR	farther
FARCED	stuffed
FARDEL	a burden
FARTUOUS	used ridiculously for ' virtuous.'
FAST	assuredly, unalterably
FAT	dull
FAVOUR	countenance
	Complexion
	Quality
FEAR	the object of fear
FEAR	to affright
FEARFUL	subject to fear, timorous
FEAT	dexterous
FEAT	to make fine
FEATER	comp. degree. more neatly
FEATLY	nimbly, daintily
FEATURE	beauty
FEDERARY	confederate
FEEDER	agent, servant
FEE-GRIEF	a grief held, as it were, in fee-simple, or the
	peculiar property of him who possesses it
FEERE	a companion, husband
FEHEMENTLY	used ridiculously for 'vehemently.'
FELL	the hide
FENCE	art or skill in defence
FEODARY	one who holds an estate by suit or service to
	a superior lord; hence one who acts under the
	direction of another
FESTER	to rankle, grow virulent
FESTINATELY	quickly
FET	fetched
FICO	a fig
FIELDED	in the field of battle
FIG	to insult
FIGHTS	clothes hung round a ship to conceal the men
	from the enemy
FILE	a list or catalogue
FILE	to defile
	To smooth or polish
	To make even
FILL-HORSE	shaft-horse
FILLS	the shafts
FILTH	a whore
FINE	end
FINE	to make fine or specious
FINELESS	endless
FIRAGO	ridiculously used for 'Virago.' 
FIRE-DRAKE	Will o' the Wisp
FIRE-NEW	with the glitter of novelty on, like newly-
	forged metal
FIRK	to chastise
FIT	a canto or division of a song
	A trick or habit
FITCHEW	a polecat
FIVES	a disease incident to horses
FLAP-DRAGON	raisins in burning brandy
FLAP-JACK	a pan-cake
FLAT	certain
FLATNESS	lowness, depth
FLAW	a gust of wind
	sudden emotion, or the cause of it
FLAW	to make a flaw in, to break
FLECKED	spotted, streaked
FLEET	to float
	To pass away
	to pass the time
FLEETING	inconstant
FLESHMENT	the act of fleshing the sword, hence the
	first feat of arms
FLEWED	furnished with hanging lips, as hounds are
FLIGHT	a particular mode of practising archery
FLIRT-GILL	a light woman
FLOTE	wave, sea
FLOURISH	an ornament
FLOURISH	to ornament, disguise with ornament
FLUSH	fresh, full of vigour
FOIL	defeat, disadvantage
FOIN	to fence, fight
FOISON	plenty
FOND	foolish, foolishly affectionate
FOOT-CLOTH	a saddle-cloth hanging down to the ground
FOR	for that, because
FORBID	accursed, outlawed
FORBODE	forbidden
FORCE	to stuff, for 'farce.' 
FORCED	falsely attributed
FORDO	to kill, destroy
	To weary
FOREIGN	obliged to live abroad
FOREPAST	former
FORESLOW	to delay
FORFEND	to forbid
FORGETIVE	inventive
FORKED	horned
FORMAL	regular, retaining its proper and essential
	characteristic
FORSPEAK	to speak against
FORSPENT	exhausted, weary
FORTHRIGHT	a straight path; forthrights and meanders,
	straight paths and crooked ones
FORWEARY	to weary, exhaust
FOSSET-SELLER	one who sells the pipes inserted into a vessel
	to give vent to the liquor, and stopped by a
	spigot
FOX	a sword; a cant word
FOX-SHIP	the cunning of the fox
FRAMPOLD	peevish, unquiet
FRANK	the feeding place of swine
FRANKED	confined
FRANKLIN	a freeholder, a small squire
FRAUGHT	freighted
FRAUGHTAGE	freight
FRAUGHTING	to fraught. loading or constituting the
	cargo of a ship
FRESH	a spring of fresh water
FRET	the stop of a guitar
FRET	to wear away
	To variegate
FRIEND	to befriend
FRIPPERY	an old-clothes shop
FROM	prep. contrary to
FRONT	to affront, oppose
FRONTIER	opposition
FRONTLET	that which is worn on the forehead
FRUSH	to break or bruise
FRUSTRATE	frustrated
FUB OFF	to put off
FULFILL	to fill full
FULL	complete
FULLAM	a loaded die
FULSOME	lustful
FURNISHED	equipped
FURNITOR	furnitory, an herb


GABERDINE	a loose outer coat, or smock frock
GAD	a pointed instrument, a goad
	Upon the gad, with impetuous haste, upon the spur
	of the moment
GAIN-GIVING	misgiving
GAIT	going, steps
GALLIARD	a kind of dance
GALLIASSE	a kind of ship
GALLIMAUFRY	a ridiculous medley
GALLOW	to scare
GALLOWGLASS	the irregular infantry of Ireland, and the
	Highlands of Scotland
GAMESTER	a frolicsome person
	A loose woman
GARBOIL	disorder, uproar
GARISH	gaudy, staring
GARNER	to lay by, as corn in a barn
GAST	frightened
GAUDY	festive
GAZE	an object of wonder
GEAR	matter of business of any kind
GECK	a fool
GENERAL	the generality, common people
GENERATIONS	children
GENEROSITY	noble birth
GENEROUS	noble
GENTILITY	good manners
GENTLE	gentlefolk
GENTLE	noble
GENTLE	to ennoble
GENTRY	complaisance, conduct becoming gentlefolk
GERMAN	akin
	Appropriate
GERMEN	seed, embryo
GEST	period
GIB	a he-cat
GIFTS	talents, endowment
GIGLOT	a wanton girl
GILDER	a coin of the value of 1s. 6d. or 2s
GILT	money
	State of wealth
GIMMAL	double
GIMMOR	contrivance
GING	gang
GIRD	to gibe
GIRD	a sarcasm or gibe
GLEEK	to scoff
GLEEK	a scoff
GLOSE	to comment; hence, to be garrulous
GLUT	to swallow
GNARL	to snarl
GOOD-DEED	indeed
GOOD-DEN	good-evening, contracted from 'Good-even.'
GOOD-YEAR
or GOOD-JER	a corruption of the French goujere; the
	venereal disease
GORBELLIED	corpulent
GOURD	a species of game of chance
GOUT	a drop
GOVERNMENT	discretion
GRACIOUS	abounding in grace Divine
GRAINED	engrained
GRAMERCY	int. grand mercy, much thanks
GRANGE	the farmstead attached to a monastery, a
	solitary farm-house
GRATILLITY	used ridiculously for 'gratuity.'
GRATULATE	to congratulate
GRAVE	to bury
GREASILY	grossly
GREEK	a bawd
GREEN	immature, fresh, unused
GREENLY	foolishly
GREET	to weep
GRIZE	a step
GROSSLY	palpably
GROUNDLING	one who sits in the pit of a theatre
GROWING	accruing
GUARD	decoration
GUARD	to decorate
GUARDAGE	guardianship
GUINEA-HEN	the pintado, a cant term
GULES	red, a term in heraldry
GULF	the throat
GUN-STONE	a cannon ball
GUST	taste, relish
GYVE	to fetter


HACK	to become common
HAGGARD	a wild or unreclaimed hawk
HAG-SEED	seed or offspring of a hag
HAIR	course, order, grain
HALIDOM	holiness, sanctification, Christian fellowship;
	used as an oath, and analogous to 'By my faith.'
HALL	an open space to dance in
HALLOWMAS	All Hallows' Day
HAP	chance, fortune
HAPPILY	accidentally
HANDSAW	perhaps a corruption of Heronshaw; a hern
HARDIMENT	defiance, brave deeds
HARLOCK	charlock, wild mustard
HARRY	to annoy, harass
HAUGHT	haughty
HAUNT	company
HAVING	property, fortune
HAVIOUR	behavior
HAY	a term in fencing
HEADY	violent, headlong
HEAT	of 'to heat,' heated
HEBENON	henbane
HEFT	a heaving
HEFT	furnished with a handle: hence,
	metaphorically, finished off, delicately formed
HELM	to steer, manage
HENCE	henceforward
HENCHMAN	a page or attendant
HENT	to seize, take
HERMIT	a beadsman, one bound to pray for another
HEST	command
HIGH	used in composition with adjectives to heighten
	or emphasize their signification, as, high-
	fantastical
HIGHT	called
HILD	held
HILDING	a paltry fellow
HINT	suggestion
HIREN	a prostitute. with a pun on the word 'iron.'
HIT	to agree
HOISE	to hoist, heave up on high
HOIST	hoisted
HOLP	to help; helped
HOME	to the utmost
HONEST	chaste
HONESTY	chastity
HONEY-STALKS	the red clover
HOODMAN-BLIND	the game now called blindman's-buff
HORN-MAD	probably, 'harn-mad,' that is, brain-mad
HOROLOGE	a clock
HOT-HOUSE	a brothel
HOX	to hamstring
HUGGER-MUGGER	secresy
HULL	to drift on the sea like a wrecked ship
HUMOROUS	fitful, or, perhaps, hurried
HUNT-COUNTER	to follow the scent the wrong way
HUNTS-UP	a holla used in hunting when the game was on
	foot
HURLY	noise, confusion
HURTLE	to clash
HURTLING	noise, confusion
HUSBANDRY	frugality
	Management
HUSWIFE	a jilt


ICE-BROOK	an icy-cold brook
I'FECKS	int. in faith, a euphemism
IGNOMY	ignominy
IMAGE	representation
IMBARE	to bare, lay open
IMMEDIACY	close connexion
IMMOMENT	unimportant
IMP	to graft. to splice a falcon's broken feathers
IMP	a scion, a child
IMPAWN	to stake, compromise
IMPEACH	to bring into question
IMPEACH	impeachment
IMPEACHMENT	cause of censure, hindrance
IMPERCEIVERANT	duff of perception
IMPETICOS	to pocket
IMPORTANCE	importunity
IMPORTANT	importunate
IMPORTING	significant
IMPOSE	imposition, meaning command or task imposed
	upon any one
IMPOSITIONS	command
IMPRESE	a device with a motto
IMPRESS	to compel to serve
INCAPABLE	unconscious
INCARNARDINE	to dye red
INCENSED	incited, egged on
INCH-MEAL	by inch-meal, by portions of inches
INCLINING	compliant
INCLINING	inclination
INCLIP	to embrace
INCLUDE	conclude
INCONY	fine, delicate
INCORRECT	ill-regulated
IND	India
INDENT	to compound or bargain
INDEX	a preface
INDIFFERENT	ordinary
INDIGEST	disordered
INDITE	to invite
	To convict
INDUCTION	introduction, beginning
INDURANCE	delay
INFINITE	infinite power
INGRAFT	to engraff, engrafted
INHABITABLE	uninhabitable
INHERIT	to possess
INHOOPED	penned up in hoops
INKHORN-MATE	a contemptuous term for an ecclesiastic, or man
	of learning
INKLE	a kind of narrow fillet or tape
INLAND	civilized, well-educated
INLY	inward
INLY	inwardly
INQUISITION	enquiry
INSANE	that which causes insanity
INSCONCE	to arm, fortify
INSTANCE	example
	Information
	Reason, proof
INTEND	to pretend
INTENDING	regarding
INTENDMENT	intention
INTENTIVELY	attentively
INTERESSED	allied
INTERMISSION	pause, delay
INTRENCHMENT	not capable of being cut
INTRINSE	intricate
INTRINSICATE	intricate
INVENTION	imagination
INWARD	an intimate friend
	intimate
INWARDNESS	intimacy
IRREGULOUS	lawless, licentious
ITERATION	reiteration


JACK	a mean fellow
JACK-A-LENT	a puppet thrown at in Lent
JACK GUARDANT	a jack in office
JADE	to whip, to treat with contempt
JAR	the ticking of a clock
JAR	to tick as a clock
JAUNCE	to prance
JESS	a strap of leather attached to the talons of a
	hawk, by which it is held on the fist
JEST	to tilt in a tournament
JET	to strut
JOURNAL	daily
JOVIAL	appertaining to Jove
JUDICIOUS	critical
JUMP	to agree
	to hazard
JUMP	hazard
JUMP	exactly, nicely
JUSTICER	a judge, magistrate
JUT	to encroach
JUTTY	a projection
JUTTY	to jut out beyond
JUVENAL	youth, young man


KAM	crooked
KECKSY	hemlock
KEECH	a lump of tallow
KEEL	to skin
KEEP	to restrain
KEISAR	Caesar, Emperor
KERN	the rude foot soldiers of the Irish
KIBE	a chilblain
KICKSHAW	a made dish
KICKSY WICKSY	a wife, used in disdain
KILN-HOLE	the ash-hole under a kiln
KIND	nature
KINDLE	to bring forth young; used only of beasts
KINDLESS	unnatural
KINDLY	natural
KIRTLE	a gown
KNAP	to snap, crack
KNAVE	a boy
	A serving-man
KNOT	a figure in garden beds
KNOW	to acknowledge


LABRAS	lips
LACED-MUTTON	a courtesan
LAG	the lowest of the people
LAG	late, behindhand
LAKIN	ladykin, little lady, an endearing term applied
	to the Virgin Mary in the oath, 'By our lakin.' 
LAND-DAMN	perhaps to extirpate; Hanmer thinks it means
	to kill by stopping the urine
LAPSED	taken, apprehended
LARGE	licentious, free
LARGESS	a present
LASS-LORN	deserted by a mistress
LATCH	to smear
	To catch
LATED	belated
LATTEN	made of brass
LAUND	lawn
LAVOLTA	a dance
LAY	wager
LEAGUE	besieging army
LEASING	lying
LEATHER-COATS	a kind of apple
LEECH	a physician
LEER	countenance, complexion
LEET	a manor court
LEGE	to allege
LEGERITY	lightness
LEIGER	an ambassador resident abroad
LEMAN	a lover or mistress
LENTEN	meagre
	That which may be eaten in Lent
L'ENVOY	the farewell or moral at the end of a tale or
	poem
LET	to hinder
	to binder
LET	hindrance
LETHE	death
LEVEL	to aim
LEVEL	that which is aimed at
LEWD	ignorant, foolish
LEWDLY	wickedly
LEWDSTER	a lewd person
LIBBARD	a leopard
LIBERAL	licentious
LIBERTY	libertinism
LICENCE	licentiousness
LIEF	dear
LIFTER	a thief
LIGHT O' LOVE	a tune so called
LIGHTLY	easily, generally
LIKE	to please
LIKE	to liken, compare
LIKE	likely
LIKELIHOOD	promise, appearance
LIKING	condition
LIMBECK	an alembick, a still
LIMBO	or Limbo patrum, the place where good men under
	the Old Testament were believed to be imprisoned till
	released by Christ after his crucifixion
LIME	bird-lime
LIME	to entangle as with bird-lime
	To smear with bird-lime
	To mix lime with beer or other liquor
LIMN	to draw
LINE	to cover on the inside
	To strengthen by inner works
LINSTOCK	a staff with a match at the end of it used by
	gunners in firing cannon
LIST	a margin, hence a bound or enclosure
LITHER	lazy
LITTLE	miniature
LIVELIHOOD	appearance of life
LIVERY	a law phrase, signifying the act of delivering
	a freehold into the possession of the heir or
	purchaser
LIVING	lively, convincing
LOACH	a fish so called
LOB	a looby
LOCKRAM	a sort of coarse linen
LODE-STAR	the leading-star, pole-star
LOFFE	to laugh
LOGGATS	the game called nine-pins
LONGLY	longingly
LOOF	to lull, bring a vessel up to the wind
LOON	a low contemptible fellow
LOT	a prize in a lottery
LOTTERY	that which falls to a man by lot
LOWT	a clown
LOWT	to treat one as a lowt, with contempt
LOZEL	a spendthrift
LUBBER	a leopard
LUCE	n. the pike or jack, a fresh-water fish
LUMPISH	duff, dejected
LUNES	fits of lunacy
LURCH	to defeat, to win
LURCH	to shift, to play tricks
LURE	a thing stuffed to resemble a bird with which
	the falconer allures a hawk
LUSH	juicy, luxuriant
LUSTIG	lusty, cheerful
LUXURIOUS	lascivious
LUXURY	lust
LYM	a limer or slow hound


MADE	having his fortune made
MAGNIFICO	the chief magistrate at Venice
MAGOT-PIE	a magpie, a pie which feeds on magots
MAIL	covered as with a coat of mail
MAIN-COURSE	a sea-term
MAKE	to do up, bar
	To do
MALKIN	a familiar name for Mary; hence a servant
	wench
MALLECHO	mischief
MAMMERING	hesitating
MAMMETS	a woman's breasts
	A doll
MAMMOCK	to break, tear
MAN	to tame a hawk
MANAGE	management
MANDRAGORA	or Mandrake a plant of soporiferous quality,
	supposed to resemble a man
MANKIND	having a masculine nature
MARCHES	frontiers, borders
MARCHPANE	a kind of sweet biscuit
MARGENT	margin
MARRY TRAP	an oath
MARTLEMAS	the Feast of St. Martin, which occurs on the
	11th of Nov. when the fine weather generally ends;
	hence applied to an old man
MATCH	an appointment
MATE	to confound, dismay
MEACOCK	tame, cowardly
MEALED	mingled
MEAN	instrument used to promote an end
MEAN	the tenor part in a harmony
MEAN	opportunity, power
MEASURE	reach
	A stately dance
MEAZEL	a leper, spoken in contempt of a mean person
MEDAL	a portrait in a locket
MEDICINE	a physician
MEED	reward, hire
	Merit
MEHERCLE	by Hercules
MEINY	retinue
MELL	to mix, to meddle
MEMORISE	to cause to be remembered
MEPHISTOPHILUS	the name of a familiar spirit
MERCATANTE	a foreign trader
MERELY	simply, absolutely
MESS	a company of four
METAPHYSICAL	supernatural
METE-YARD	measuring-wand
MEW UP	to confine
MICHER	a truant
MICKLE	much
MILL-SIXPENCE	a milled sixpence
MINCE	to do any thing affectedly
MINCING	affected
MISCREATE	illegitimate
MISDOUBT	to suspect
MISERY	avarice
MISPRISE	to despise
	To mistake
MISPRISION	mistake
MISSIVE	messenger
MISTEMPERED	angry
MISTHINK	to think ill of
MISTRESS	the jack in bowling
MOBLED	muffled
MODERN	commonplace
MODULE	a model, image
MOE	and more. Of frequent occurrence
MOIETY	a portion
MOME	a stupid person
MOMENTANY	momentary
MONTHS-MIND	a monthly commemoration of the dead, but used
	ludicrously to mean a great mind or strong desire
MOOD	anger
MOON-CALF	a nick-name applied to Caliban
MOONISH	inconstant
MOP	nod
MORISCO	a Moor
MORRIS-PIKE	Moorish-pike
MORT	death, applied to animals of the chase
MORT-DU-VINAIGRE	a ridiculous oath
MORTAL	fatal, deadly
	Murderous
MORTIFIED	ascetic
MOSE	a doubtful word, applied to some disease
	in a horse
MOTION	solicitation
	Emotion
MOTION	a puppet
MOTIVE	one who moves
	That which moves
MOTLEY	or the many-coloured coat of a fool, or
	a fool
MOTLEY-MINDED	foolish
MOUSE-HUNT	a weasel
MOW	to make grimaces
MOY	a coin, probably a moidore
MUCH	int. significant of contempt
MUCH	used ironically
MURE	a wall
MUST	a scramble
MUTINE	to mutiny
MUTINE	a mutineer


NAPKIN	a handkerchief
NATURAL	an idiot
NAYWARD	towards denial
NAYWORD	a catch-word, by-word
NEB	the beak
NEELD	a needle
NEIF	hand
NEPHEW	a grandson
NETHER-STOCKS	stockings
NEXT	nearest
NICE	foolish
NICK	score or reckoning
NICK	to brand with folly
NIGHTED	black as night
NIGHT-RULE	nightly solemnity
NINE MEN'S MORRIS	a place set apart for a Moorish dance by
	nine men
NINNY	a fool, jester
NOBILITY	nobleness
NOBLE	a coin, worth 6s. 8d
NODDY	a dolt
NONCE	for the nonce, corrupted from 'for then once,'
	for the occasion
NOOK-SHOTTEN	indented with bays and creeks
NOURISH	a nurse
NOVUM	a game at dice
NOWL	head
NUTHOOK	a hook for pulling down nuts, hence a thief
	


O	a circle
OAR	to row as with oars
OBSEQUIOUS	behaving as becomes one who attends funeral
	obsequies
OBSEQUIOUSLY	funereally
OBSTACLE	ridiculously used for 'obstinate.'
OCCUPATION	persons occupied in business
OCCURENT	an incident
OD'S BODY	|    'Od's in these
OD'S HEARTLINGS	|  and all similar
	| exclamations is
OD'S PITTIKINS	|  a euphemism
OD'S PLESSED WILL	|    for 'God's.'
OEILLIAD	an amorous glance
O'ERPARTED	having too important a part to act
O'ER-RAUGHT	overreached
	overtasked
OFFERING	challenging
OFFICE	benefit, kindness
	use, function
OLD	a cant term for great, as we say fine, or pretty
ONCE	some time
ONEYER	a banker.  A doubtful word
OPE	open
OPE	to open
	to open
OPEN	plain
	Public
OPEN	to give tongue as a hound
OPERANT	active
OPINIONED	used ridiculously for pinioned
OPPOSITE	adversary
OPPOSITION	combat
OR	before
ORDER	measures
ORDINANCE	rank, order
ORGULOUS	proud
ORT	leaving, refuse
OSTENT	show, appearance
OSTENTATION	show, appearance
	
OUNCE	a beast of prey of the tiger kind
OUPHE	a fairy
OUSEL-COCK	the blackbird
OUT	all out, fully
OUT-LOOK	to face down
OUTWARD	not in the secret of affairs
OUTWARD	outside
OWE	to own


PACK	to practise unlawful confederacy
PACK	a number of people confederated
PADDOCK	a toad
PAID	punished
PALABRAS	words, a cant term, from the Spanish
PALE	to enclose
PALL	to wrap as with a pall
PALLED	impaired
PALMER	one who bears a palm-branch, in token of having
	made a pilgrimage to Palestine
PALMY	victorious
PARCELLED	belonging to individuals
PARD	the leopard
PARITOR	an apparitor
PARLE	talk
PARLOUS	perilous
	keen, shrewd
PARTED	endowed, gifted
PARTIZAN	a pike
PASH	the face
PASH	to strike violently, to bruise, crush
PASS	to practise
	To surpass expectation
PASSANT	a term of heraldry, applied to animals
	represented on the shield as passing by at a trot
PASSING	surpassingly, exceedingly
PASSION	to have feelings
PASSIONATE	to suffer
PASSY-MEASURE	a kind of dance
PASTRY	the room where pastry was made
PATCH	a mean fellow
PATCHED	dressed in motley
PATCHERY	trickery
PATH	to walk
PATHETICAL	affected, hypocritical
PATIENT	to make patient, to compose
PATINE	the metal disc on which the bread is placed in
	the administration of the Eucharist
PATTERN	to give an example of
	Afford a pattern for
PAUCA VERBA	few words
PAUCAS	few, a cant word
PAVIN	a dance
PAX	a small image of Christ
PAY	to despatch
PEAT	a term of endearment for a child
PEDASCULE	a pedant, schoolmaster
PEER	to peep out
PEIZE	to balance, weigh down
PELTING	paltry
PERDU	lost
PERDURABLE	durable
PERDY	a euphemism for Par Dieu
PERFECT	certain
PERFECT	to inform perfectly
PERIAPTS	charms worn round the neck
PERJURE	a perjured person
PERSEVER	to persevere
PERSPECTIVE	a telescope, or some sort of optical glass
PEW-FELLOW	a comrade
PHEEZE	to comb, fleece, curry
PIA-MATER	the membrane covering the brain, the brain
	itself
PICK	to pitch, throw
PICKED	chosen, selected
PICKERS	(and stealers), the fingers, used ridiculously
PICKING	insignificant
PICKT-HATCH	a place noted for brothels. Merry Wives
	of Windsor
PIED	motley-coated, wearing the motley coat of a
	jester
PIELED	shaven
PLIGHT	pitched
PILCHER	a scabbard
PILL	to pillage
PIN	a malady of the eye
	The centre of a target
PINFOLD	a pound, a place to confine lost cattle
PIONED	digged
PLACKET	a petticoat-front
PLAIN SONG	a simple air
PLAITED	intricate
PLANCHED	made of boards
PLANTATION	colonizing, planting a colony
PLAUSIVE	plausible
PLEACHED	interwoven
POINT	a lace furnished with a tag by which the
	breeches were held up
POINT-DE-VICE	faultless
POISE	balance
	Doubt
POLLED	bare
POMANDER	a perfumed ball
POMEWATER	a kind of apple
POOR-JOHN	a herring
POPINJAY	a parrot
PORT	pomp, state
PORT	a gate
PORTABLE	bearable
PORTANCE	conduct, behavior
POSSESS	to inform
POTCH	to push violently
POTENT	a potentate
POUNCET-BOX	a box for holding perfumes
POWER	forces, army
PRACTISE	wicked stratagem
PRACTISANT	a confederate
PRANK	to dress up
PRECEPT	a justice's summons
PRECIOUSLY	in business of great importance
PREGNANCY	fertility of invention
PREGNANT	fertile of invention
	Ready
	Obvious
PRENOMINATE	to name beforehand, to prophesy
PRE-ORDINANCE	old-established law
PRESENCE	the presence-chamber
	High bearing
PREST	ready
PRETENCE	design
PRETEND	to portend
	To intend
PREVENT	to anticipate
PRICK	the mark denoting the hour on a dial
PRICK	to incite
	To choose by pricking a hole with a pin opposite the
	name
PRICK-SONG	music sung in parts by note
PRICKET	a stag of two years
PRIDE	heat
PRIG	to steal
PRIME	rank, lecherous
PRIMER	more-important
PRIMERO	a game at cards
PRINCIPALITY	that which holds the highest place
PRINCOX	a coxcomb
PRISER	a prize-fighter
PROCURE	to bring
PREFACE	interj. much good may it do you
PROFANE	outspoken
PROGRESS	a royal ceremonial journey
PROJECT	to shape or contrive
PROMPTURE	suggestion
PRONE	ready, willing
PROOF	strength of manhood
PROPAGATE	to advance, to forward
PROPAGATION	obtaining
PROPER-FALSE	natural falsehood
PROPERTIED	endowed with the properties of
PROPERTIES	scenes, dresses, &c. used in a theatre
	
PROPERTY	to take possession of
PROPOSE	to suppose, for the sake of argument
	To converse
PROPOSE	conversation
PROROGUE	to defer
PROVAND	provender
PROVISION	forecast
PUCELLE	a virgin, the name given to Joan of Arc
PUDENCY	modesty
PUGGING	thieving
PUN	to pound
PURCHASE	to acquire, win
PURCHASE	gain, winnings
PUT	to compel
PUTTER-ON	an instigator
PUTTER-OUT	one who lends money at interest
PUTTING-ON	instigation
PUTTOCK	a kite


QUAIL	to faint, be languid, be afraid
	to cause to quail
QUAINT	curiously beautiful
QUAKE	to cause to quake or tremble
QUALIFY	to moderate
QUALITY	those of the same nature
	Rank or condition
QUARREL	a suit, cause
QUARRY	game, a heap of game
QUART D'ECU	a quarter crown
QUARTER	the post allotted to a soldier
QUAT	a pimple; used in contempt of a person
QUEASY	squeamish, unsettled
	
QUELL	murder
QUENCH	to grow cool
QUERN	a hand-mill
QUEST	enquiry, search, inquest, jury
QUESTRIST	one who goes in search of another
QUICK	so far gone in pregnancy that the child is
	alive
QUICKEN	to come to life
QUIDDIT	|  a subtle question
QUIDDITY	|
QUILLET	quidebet, a subtle case in law
QUINTAIN	a post for tilting at
QUIP	sharp jest, a taunt
QUIRE	to sing in concert
QUIT	to requite, respond
QUIT	past tense of the verb to quit, quitted
QUITANCE	requital
QUIVER	active
QUOTE	to note


RABATO	a ruff
RABBIT-SUCKER	a weasel
RACE	breed; inherited nature
RACK	wreck
RACK	to enhance the price of anything
	To drive as clouds
RAG	a term of contempt applied to persons
RAKE	to cover
RAPT	transported with emotion
RAPTURE	a fit
RASCAL	a lean deer
RASH	quick, violent
RATE	opinion, judgment
RATE	to assign, to value
	To scold
RATOLORUM	a ludicrous mistake for Rotulorum
RAUGHT	past tense of reach
RAVIN	ravenous
RAVIN	to devour
RAWLY	inadequately
RAWNESS	unprovided state
RAYED	arrayed, served
RAZED	slashed
REAR-MOUSE	the bat
REBATE	to deprive of keenness
REBECK	a three-stringed fiddle
RECEIPT	money received
RECEIVING	capacity
RECHEAT	a point of the chase to call back the hounds
RECORD	to sing
RECORDER	a flute
RECURE	to cure, recover
RED-LATTICE	suitable to an ale-house, because ale-houses
	had commonly red lattices
RED-PLAGUE	erysipelas
REDUCE	to bring back
REECHY	smoky, dirty
REFELL	to refute
REFER	to reserve to
REGIMENT	government
REGREET	a salutation
REGREET	to salute
REGUERDON	requital
RELATIVE	applicable
REMEMBER	to remind
REMORSE	pity
REMORSEFUL	full of pity, compassionate
REMOTION	removal
REMOVED	sequestered, remote
RENDER	to describe you
RENDER	account
RENEGE	to renounce, to deny
REPAIR	to renovate, comfort
REPEAL	to reverse the sentence of exile. Two
	Gentlemen of Verona
REPROOF	confutation
REPUGN	to resist
REQUIEM	mass for the dead, so called because it begins
	with the words, Requiem eternam dona eis, Domine
RESOLVE	to satisfy
	To dissolve
RESPECT	consideration
RESPECTIVE	respectful, thoughtful
RESPECTIVE	corresponding
RESPECTIVELY	respectfully
RETAILED	handed down
RETIRE	retreat
RETIRE	to draw back
REVERB	to echo
REVOLT	a rebel
RIB	to enclose as within ribs
RID	to destroy
RIFT	to split
	to split
RIFT	a split
RIGGISH	wanton
RIGOL	a circle
RIPE	drunk
RIVAGE	the shore
RIVAL	a partner
RIVALITY	equal rank
RIVE	to fire
ROAD	the high road, applied to a common woman
ROISTING	roistering, violent
ROMAGE	unusual stir
RONVON	a term of contempt applied to a woman
ROOD	the crucifix
ROOK	a cheater
ROPERY	roguery
ROPE-TRICKS	tricks such as are played by a rope-dancer
ROUND	to whisper
	To become great with child
	to finish off
ROUND	a diadem
ROUND	unceremonious
ROUNDEL	a dance or song
ROUNDURE	an enclosure
ROUSE	carousal
ROYNISH	mangy
RUBIOUS	ruddy
RUDDOCK	the redbreast
RUSH	to push
RUSHLING	rustling


SACRIFICIAL	reverent, as words used in religious worship
SACRING-BELL	the little bell rung at mass to give notice
	that the elements are consecrated
SAD	serious
SADLY	seriously
SADNESS	seriousness
SAFE	to make safe
SAG	to hang down
SALT	lascivious
SALT	taste
SANDED	marked with yellow spots
SANS	without
SAUCY	lascivious
SAW	a moral saying
SAY	silken
SAY	assay, taste, relish
SCAFFOLDAGE	the gallery of a theatre
SCALD	scurvy, scabby
SCALE	to weigh in scales
SCALL	a scab, a word of reproach
SCAMBLE	to scramble
SCAMEL	probably a misprint for sea-mel, sea-mew
SCAN	to examine subtly
SCANT	to cut short, to spare
SCANT	scanty, short
	scarcely
SCANTLING	a small portion
SCAPE	to escape
SCAPE	a sally
SCATHE	injury
SCATHE	to injure
SCATHFUL	destructive
SCONCE	the head
SCOTCH	to bruise or cut slightly
SCRIMER	a fencer
SCROYLE	a scabby fellow
SCULL	a shoal of fish
SCURVY	scabby; metaph. mean
SEAL	to set one's seal to a deed; hence, to confirm
SEAM	fat
SEAMY	showing the seam or sewing
SEAR	scorched, withered
SEAR	to stigmatise
SEARCH	to probe; hence, to apply a healing remedy
	
SEATED	fixed, confirmed
SECT	a slip or scion
	A political party
SECURELY	inconsiderately
SEEL	to close
SEELING	closing, blinding
SEEMING	seemly, becomingly
SEEMING	outward manner and appearance
SEEN	versed, instructed
SELD	seldom
SELF-BOUNTY	native goodness
SEMBLABLY	alike
SENIORY	seniority
SENNET	a flourish of trumpets
SEPULCHRE	to bury
SEQUESTRATION	separation
SERE	dry
SERJEANT	a bailiff
SERPIGO	a cutaneous disease
SERVICEABLE	'serviceable vows,' vows that you will do
	her service, or be her servant
SETEBOS	the name of a fiend
SETTER	one who watches travellers to give information
	to thieves
SEVERAL	land which is not common but appropriated
SHAME	to be ashamed
SHAME	modesty
SHARDS	shreds, broken fragments of pottery
SHARDS	the wing cases of beetles; hence 'sharded,'
	and 'shard-borne,' 
SHARKED	snatched up, as a shark does his prey
SHEEN	brilliancy
SHEER	pure
	Unmixed
SHENT	rebuked, blamed
	Hurt
SHERIFF'S-POST	a post at the door of a sheriff, to which royal
	proclamations were fixed
SHIVE	slice
SHOT	the reckoning at an ale-house
SHOUGHS	shaggy dogs
SHOULDERED	plunged
SHOVEL-BOARD	game played by sliding metal pieces along
	a board at a mark
SHREWD	mischievous
SHRIFT	confession
	Absolution
SHRIVE	to confess
SHRIVING-TIME	time for confession
SHROUD	to enshroud oneself, cover oneself up
SIDE-SLEEVES	loose hanging sleeves
SIEGE	seat
	Stool
	Rank
SIGHT	an aperture in a helmet
SIGHTLESS	invisible
	Unsightly
SIGN	to give an omen
SILLY	simple, rustic
SIMULAR	counterfeit, feigned
SINGLE	feeble
SIR	a title applied to a bachelor of arts at the
	Universities
SITH	since
SITHENCE	since
SIZES	allowances
SKAINS-MATES	scapegraces
SKILL	to be of importance
SKILLESS	ignorant
SKIMBLE-SKAMBLE	rambling, disjointed
SKINKER	a drawer of liquor
SKIRR	to scour
SLACK	slacken
SLAVE	to turn to slavish uses
SLEAVE	floss-silk
SLEDDED	sledged
SLEIDED	untwisted, raw, applied to silk
	 (Gower)
SLEIGHTS	artifices
SLIPPER	slippery
SLIPS	a kind of noose, or leash
	A piece of base money
SLIVER	to slice
SLIVER	a slice
SLOPS	loose breeches
SLUBBER	to slur over
SMIRCHED	smeared, soiled
SMOOTH	to flatter
SMOOTHED	flattered, fawned upon
SNEAP	taunt, sarcasm
SNEAPED	pinched
SNECK-UP	go hang! 
SNUFF	anger
	'To take in snuff' is to take offence
SOFTLY	gently
SOIL	spot, taint
SOLICIT	solicitation
SOLIDARE	a small coin
SOLVE	solution
SOMETIMES	formerly
SOOTH	truth
	Conciliation
SOOTH	true
SOREL	a buck of the third year
SORRIEST	most sorrowful
SORRY	sorrowful, dismal
SORT	a company
	Rank, condition
	Lot
	'In a sort,' in a manner
SORT	to choose
	to suit
	To consort
SOT	fool
SOUL-FEARING	soul-terrifying
SOWL	to lug, drag
SOWTER	name of a dog
SPECIALLY	a special contract
SPED	settled, done for
SPEED	fortune
SPERR	to bolt, fasten
SPIAL	spy
SPILL	to destroy
SPILTH	spilling
SPLEEN	violent haste
	Used of the lightning flash
SPRAG	quick
SPRING	shoot, bud
	Beginning
SPRINGHALT	stringhalt, a disease of horses
SPRITED	haunted
SPURS	roots of trees
SQUANDERED	scattered
SQUARE	to quarrel
SQUARE	the front part of a woman's dress, stomacher
SQUARE	equitable
SQUARER	quarreller
SQUASH	an unripe peascod
SQUIER	a square or rule
SQUINY	to squint
STAGGERS	a disease in horses, attended with giddiness:
	hence any bewildering distress
STAIN	to disfigure
STALE	a decoy
	A gull
	A prostitute
STALE	to make stale, deprive anything of its
	freshness
STAND UPON	to be incumbent on
STANIEL	an inferior kind of hawk
STARK	stiff
STARKLY	stiffly
STATE	a canopied chair
STATION	attitude
	Act of standing
STATIST	a statesman
STATUA	a statue
STATUE	image, picture
STATUTE	security, obligation
STATUTE-CAPS	woollen caps worn by citizens
STAY	a cheque
STEAD	to profit
STEELED	set or fixed
STERNAGE	steerage, course
STICKLER	an arbitrator in combats
STIGMATIC	a deformed person
STIGMATICAL	deformed
STILL	constant
STILL	constantly
STILLY	softly
STINT	to stop
	to stop
STITHY	a smith's forge
STITHY	to forge
STOCCADO	a stoccata, or thrust in fencing
STOCK	a stocking
STOMACH	courage, stubbornness
	Appetite, inclination
STONE-BOW	a cross-bow for throwing stones
STOUP	a cup
STOUT	strong, healthy
STOVER	fodder
STRACHY	A word of doubtful meaning
STRAIGHT	immediately
STRAIN	lineage
	Disposition
STRAITED	straitened
STRANGE	foreign
	Coy, reserved
	Marvellous
STRANGENESS	coyness, reserve
STRANGER	foreigner
STRAPPADO	a kind of punishment
STRICTURE	strictness
STROSSERS	trowsers
STUCK	a thrust of a sword
STUCK IN	corruption of stoccata
STUFF	baggage
	Material, substance
STUFFED	filled, stored
STY	to lodge as in a sty
SUBSCRIBE	to yield
	to succumb
SUCCESS	issue, consequence
	Succession
SUCCESSIVE	succeeding
SUCCESSIVELY	in succession
SUDDEN	hasty, rash
SUDDENLY	hastily
SUFFERANCE	suffering
SUGGEST	to tempt, entice
SUGGESTION	temptation, enticement
SUITED	dressed
SULLEN	doleful, melancholy
SUMPTER	a horse that carries provisions on a journey
SUPPOSE	a trick, imposition
SUPPOSED	counterfeit
SURCEASE	to cease
SURCEASE	cessation, end
SURPRISE	to capture by surprise
SUR-REINED	over-worked
SUSPECT	suspicion
SUSPIRE	to breathe
SWABBER	a sweeper of the deck of a ship
SWARTH	black
SWARTH	quantity of grass cut down by one sweep of the
	scythe
SWASHER	swaggerer
SWASHING	dashing, smashing
SWATH	The same as 'swarth.' 
SWATHLING	swaddling
SWAY	to move on
SWEAR	to adjure
SWEAR OVER	to out-swear
SWIFT	ready, quick
SWINGE-BUCKLER	a bully


TABLE	a tablet, note-book
TABLE-BOOK	note-book
TABLES	the game of backgammon
	A note-book
TABOUR	a small side-drum
TABOURER	a player on the tabour
TABOURINE	tambourine, drum
TAG	the rabble
TAINT	tainted
TAINTURE	defilement
TAKE	to infect, blast, bewitch
TAKE IN	to conquer
TAKE OUT	to copy
TAKE UP	to borrow money, or buy on credit
	To make up a quarrel
TAKING	infection, malignant influence
TAKING UP	buying on credit
TALE	counting, reckoning
TALL	strong, valiant
TALLOW-CATCH	a lump of tallow
TANG	twang, sound
TANG	to sound
TANLING	anything tanned by the sun
TARRE	to excite, urge on
TARRIANCE	delay
TARTAR	Tartarus
TASK	to tax
	Challenge
TASKING	challenging
TASTE	to try
TAWDRY-LACE	a rustic necklace
TAXATION	satire, sarcasm
TAXING	satire
TEEN	grief
TELL	to count
TEMPER	to mix
TEMPERANCE	temperature
TEMPERED	mixed
TEND	to attend to
TENDER	to hold, to esteem
	To have consideration for
TENT	to probe as a wound
TENT	a probe for searching a wound
TERCEL	the male of the goshawk
TERMAGANT	a ranting character in old plays
TESTED	pure, assayed
TESTERN	to reward with a tester, or six-pence
THARBOROUGH	a constable
THEORICK	theory
THEWES	sinews, muscles
THICK	rapidly
THICK-PLEACHED	thickly intertwined
THIRD-BOROUGH	a constable
THOUGHT	anxiety, grief
	So 'to take thought' is to give way to grief
THRASONICAL	boastful
THREE-MAN BEETLE	a wooden mallet worked by three men
THREE-MAN-SONG-MEN	singers of glees in three parts
THREE-PILE	three-piled velvet
THRENE	lament
THRID	thread, fibre
THROE	to put in agonies
THRUM	the tufted end of a thread in weaving
THRUMMED	made od coarse ends or tufts
TICKLE	ticklish
TIGHT	nimble, active
TIGHTLY	briskly, promptly
TIKE	a cur
TILLY-VALLY	int. an exclamation of contempt
TILTH	tillage
TIMELESS	untimely
TINCT	stain, dye
TIRE	attire, head-dress
TIRE	to tear as a bird of prey
	Hence, metaphorically, to feed
TIRE	to attire, dress
TANG	twang, sound
TOD	to yield a tod of wool
TOKENED	marked with plague spots
TOKENS	plague spots
TOLL	to exact toll
	To pay toll
TOO TOO	excessively
TOPLESS	supreme, without superior
TOUCH	touchstone for testing gold
	Trait
	An acute feeling
TOUCHED	pricked
TOUSE	to pull, drag
TOWARD	nearly ready
TOWARDS	nearly ready
TOYS	trifles, foolish tricks
TRADE	beaten path
TRANECT	a ferry
TRANSLATED	transformed
TRASH	to cheque, as a huntsman his hounds
TRAVAIL	labour, toil
TRAY-TRIP	an old game played with dice
TREACHERS	traitors
TREATIES	entreaties
TRENCHED	carved
TRICK	technically, a copy of a coat of arms; hence,
	any peculiarity which distinguishes voice or
	feature
TRICK	to dress up
TRICKED	blazoned
TRICKING	ornament
TRICKSY	elegantly quaint
TRIPLE	third
TROJAN	a cant word for a thief
TROL-MY-DAMES	the name of a game; also called
	pigeon-holes
TROTH-PLIGHT	betrothed
TROW	to trust, think
TRUE	honest
TRUNDLE-TAIL	a long-tailed dog
TUCKET-SONANCE	a flourish on the trumpet
TUNDISH	a funnel
TURLYGOOD	a name adopted by bedlam-beggars
TURN	to modulate
TWANGLING	twanging
TWIGGEN	made of twigs, wicker
TWILLED	Retained by woven branches
TWINK	a twinkling
TWIRE	to peep, twinkle


UMBERED	stained, dark, as with umber
UNANELED	without extreme unction
UNAVOIDED	unavoidable
UNBARBED	untrimmed
UNBATED	unblunted
UNBOLT	to disclose
UNBOLTED	unsifted, unrefined
UNBREATHED	unpractised
UNCAPE	to throw off the hounds
UNCHARGED	undefended, applied to the gates of a city
UNCLEW	to unravel, undo
UNCOINED	unalloyed, unfeigned
UNDERGO	to undertake
UNDERTAKER	one who takes up another's quarrel
UNDER-WROUGHT	undermined
UNEATH	hardly
UNEXPRESSIVE	inexpressible
UNFAIR	to deprive of beauty
UNHAPPILY	censoriously
UNHAPPY	mischievous
UNHATCHED	undisclosed
UNHOUSELED	without receiving the sacrament
UNIMPROVED	unreproved
UNION	a pearl
UNJUST	dishonest
UNKIND	unnatural
UNLIVED	bereft of life
UNMANNED	untamed, applied to a hawk
UNOWED	unowned
UNPREGNANT	stupid
UNPROPER	common to all
UNQUESTIONABLE	not inquisitive
UNREADY	undressed
UNRESPECTIVE	inconsiderate
UNSISTING	unresting
UNSTANCHED	incontinent
UNTEMPERING	unsoftening
UNTENTED	unsearchable
UNTRADED	unused, uncommon
UNTRIMMED	spoiled of grace or ornament
UNTRUE	untruth
UNVALUED	invaluable
UPSPRING REEL	a boisterous dance
URCHIN	the hedge-hog
USANCE	usury
USE	interest
UTIS	riotous merriment, which accompanied the eighth
	day of a festival
UTTER	to expel, put forth
UTTERANCE	extremity


VADE	to fade
VAIL	to lower
VAILING	lowering
VAINNESS	vanity
VALANCED	adorned with a valence or fringe; applied
	to the beard
VALIDITY	value
VANTAGE	advantage
VANTBRACE	armour for the front of the arm
VARLET	a servant, valet
VAST	properly a waste-place, metaphorically, the dead
	of night
	A gulf
VASTIDITY	immensity
VASTLY	like a waste
VASTY	vast, waste
VAUNT	the van, that which precedes
VAUNT-COURIERS	forerunners
VAWARD	the van, vanguard, advanced guard of an army
	Hence, metaphorically, the first of anything
VEGETIVES	herbs
VELURE	velvet
VELVET-GUARDS	literally, velvet trimmings; applied
	metaphorically to the citizens who wore them
VENEW	a bout in fencing, metaphorically applied to
	repartee and sallies of wit
VENEY	a bout at fencing
VENGE	to avenge
VENTAGES	holes in a flute or flageolet
VERBAL	wordy
VERY	true, real
VIA	int. off with you! 
VICE	to screw
VICE	the buffoon in the old morality plays
VIE	to challenge; a term at cards
	To play as for a wager
VIEWLESS	invisible
VILLAIN	a lowborn man
VINEWED	mouldy
VIOL-DE-GAMBOYS	a bass viol
VIRGINALLING	playing as on the virginals, a kind of a
	spinet
VIRTUE	the essential excellence
	valour
VIRTUOUS	excellent
	Endowed with virtues
VIZAMENT	advisement
VOLUBLE	fickle
VOLUNTARY	volunteer
VOTARIST	votary, one who has taken a vow
VULGAR	the common people
VULGAR	common
VULGARLY	publicly


WAFT	to wave, beckon
	To turn
WAFTAGE	passage
WAFTURE	waving, beckoning
WAGE	to reward as with wages
WAILFUL	lamentable
WAIST	the middle of a ship
WANNION	'with a vengeance.' 
WAPPENED	withered, overworn
WARD	guard
	Prison
WARDEN	a large pear used for baking
WARDER	truncheon
WARN	to summon
WASSAIL	a drinking bout
	Festivity
WAT	a familiar word for a hare
WATCH	a watch light
WATCH	to tame by keeping constantly awake
WATER-GALL	a secondary rainbow
WATER-RUG	a kind of dog
WATER-WORK	painting in distemper
WAX	to grow
WAXEN	perhaps, to hiccough
WEALTH	weal, advantage
WEAR	fashion
WEATHER-FEND	to defend from the weather
WEB AND PIN	the cataract in the eye
WEE	small, tiny
WEE	to think
WEED	garment
WEET	to wit, know
WEIGH OUT	to outweigh
WELKIN	the sky
WELKIN	sky-blue
WELL-LIKING	in good condition
WELL SAID	int. well done! 
WEND	to go
WESAND	the wind-pipe
WHELK	a weal
WHELKED	marked with whelks or protuberances
WHEN	an exclamation of impatience
WHEN AS	when
WHERE	whereas
WHERE	a place
WHIFFLER	an officer who clears the way in processions
WHILE-ERE	a little while ago
WHILES	until
WHIP-STOCK	handle of a whip
WHIST	hushed, silent
WHITE	the centre of an archery butt
WHITELY	pale-faced.  A doubtful word
WHITING-TIME	bleaching time
WHITSTER	bleacher
WHITTLE	a clasp knife
WHOO-BUB	hubbub
WHOOP	to cry out with astonishment
WICKED	noisome, baneful
WIDOW	to give a jointure to
WIDOWHOOD	widow's jointure
WIGHT	person
WILD	weald
WILDERNESS	wildness
WIMPLED	veiled, hooded
WINDOW-BARS	lattice-work across a woman's stomacher
WINDRING	winding
WINTER-GROUND	to protect (a plant) from frost
WIS	in the compound 'I wis,' certainly
WISH	to commend
WISTLY	wistfully
WIT	knowledge, wisdom
WITHOUT	beyond
WITS	five, the five senses
WITTOL	a contented cuckold
WITTY	intelligent
WOMAN-TIRED	hen-pecked
WONDERED	marvellously gifted
WOOD	mad
WOODCOCK	a simpleton
WOODMAN	a forester, huntsman
	A cant term for a wencher
WOOLWARD	shirtless
WORD	to flatter or put off with words
	To repeat the words of a song
WORLD	'To go to the world' is to get married
	So 'a woman of the world' is a married woman
WORM	a serpent
WORSER	worse
WORSHIP	to honour
WORTH	wealth, fortune
WORTS	cabbages
WOT	to know
WOUND	twisted about
WREAK	vengeance
WREAK	to avenge
WREAKFUL	revengeful, avenging
WREST	an instrument used for tuning a harp
WRIT	gospel, truth
WRITHLED	shrivelled
WROTH	calamity, misfortune
WRUNG	twisted, strained
WRY	to swerve

XANTHIPPE	Socrate's scolding wife

YARE	ready, being understood
YARELY	readily
YAW	out of control
Y-CLAD	clad
Y-CLEPED	called, named
YEARN	to grieve, vex
	
YELLOWNESS	jealousy
YELLOWS	a disease of horses
YEOMAN	a sheriff's officer
YIELD	to reward
	To report
YOND	and yonder
YOUNKER	tyro


ZANY	a clown, gull


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