Title: The Works of William Shakespeare [Cambridge Edition] [Vol. 2 of 9]
Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: William George Clark
William Aldis Wright
Release date: March 13, 2014 [eBook #45128]
Most recently updated: October 24, 2024
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Jonathan Ingram, RichardW, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
This is Volume 2 (1863) of the nine-volume Cambridge edition of Shakespeare. Volume 1 is available from Project Gutenberg as EBook #23041. Transcriber's Endnote.
The five plays contained in this volume are here printed in the order in which they occur in the Folios.
1. Much Ado About Nothing. The first edition of this play is a Quarto, of which the title is as follows:
Much adoe about | Nothing. | As it hath been sundrie times publikely | acted by the right honourable, the Lord | Chamberlaine his seruants. | Written by William Shakespeare. | London | Printed by V. S. for Andrew Wise, and | William Aspley. | 1600.
The First Folio edition of this play was obviously printed from a copy of the Quarto belonging to the library of the theatre, and corrected for the purposes of the stage. Some stage directions of interest occur first in the Folio, but as regards the text, where the Folio differs from the Quarto it differs almost always for the worse. The alterations are due however to accident not design.
‘Davenant’s version,’ to which reference is made in the notes, is his play ‘The Law against Lovers.’
2. Love’s Labour’s Lost was published for the first time in Quarto, with the following title:
A | Pleasant | Conceited Comedie | called, | Loues labors lost. | As it was presented before her Highnes | this last Christmas. | Newly corrected and augmented | By W. Shakespere. | Imprinted at London by W. W. | for Cutbert Burby. | 1598.
The Folio edition is a reprint of this Quarto, differing only in its being divided into Acts, and, as usual, inferior in accuracy. The second Quarto (Q2) is reprinted from the First Folio.
It bears the following title:
Loues Labours lost. | A wittie and | pleasant | comedie, | As it was Acted by his Maiesties Seruants at | the Blacke-Friers and the Globe. | Written | By William Shakespeare. | London, | Printed by W. S. for John Smethwicke, and are to be | sold at his Shop in Saint Dunstones Church-yard vnder the Diall. | 1631.
3. A Midsummer-Night’s Dream. Of this play also the first edition is a Quarto, bearing the following title:
A | Midsommer nights | dreame. | As it hath beene sundry times pub|lickcly acted, by the Right honoura|ble, the Lord Chamberlaine his | seruants. | Written by William Shakespeare. | Imprinted at London, for Thomas Fisher, and are to | be soulde at his shoppe, at the Signe of the White Hart, | in Fleetestreete. 1600.
The copy of this Quarto in the Capell collection was formerly in the possession of Theobald, and bears this note in his handwriting: “Collated with the other Old Quarto with the same Title, printed by James Roberts in 1600, L. T.” The results of the collation are recorded in the margin. We have called this Q1.
In the same year another edition appeared, also in Quarto, with this title:
A | Midsommer nights | dreame. | As it hath beene sundry times pub|likely acted, by the Right Honoura|ble, the Lord Chamberlaine his | seruants. | Written by William Shakespeare. | Printed by Iames Roberts, 1600.
On comparing these two Quartos we find that they correspond page for page, though not line for line, except in the first five pages of sheet G. The printer’s errors in Fisher’s edition are corrected in that issued by Roberts, and from this circumstance, coupled with the facts that in the Roberts Quarto the ‘Exits’ are more frequently marked, and that it was not entered at Stationers’ Hall, as Fisher’s edition was, we infer that the Roberts Quarto was a pirated reprint of Fisher’s, probably for the use of the players. This may account for its having been followed by the First Folio. Fisher’s edition, though carelessly printed, contains on the whole the best readings, and may have been taken from the author’s manuscript.
The First Folio edition was printed from Roberts’s Quarto, which we have quoted as Q2.
4. The Merchant of Venice. Two Quarto editions of this play were published in the same year; (1) that generally known as the ‘Roberts Quarto,’ our Q1, bearing the following title-page:
The | excellent [History of the Mer|chant of Venice.| With the extreme cruelty of Shylocke | the Iew towards the saide Merchant, in cut|ting a iust pound of his flesh. And the obtaining | of Portia, by the choyse of | three Caskets.| Written by W. Shakespeare. | Printed by J. Roberts, 1600.
and (2) that known as the ‘Heyes Quarto,’ which we have called Q2, whose title-page is as follows:
The most excellent | Historie of the Merchant | of Venice. | With the extreame crueltie of Shylocke the Iewe | towards the sayd Merchant, in cutting a iust pound | of his flesh: and the obtayning of Portia| by the choyse of three | chests. | As it hath beene diuers times acted by the Lord | Chamberlaine his Servants.| Written by William Shakespeare. At London, | Printed by I. R. for Thomas Heyes, | and are to be sold in Paules Church-yard, at the | signe of the Greene Dragon. | 1600. |
Different opinions have been entertained as to the respective priority of these two editions. Johnson and Capell both speak of the Heyes Quarto as the first. On the other hand, in the title-page of the Roberts Quarto, now at Devonshire House, J. P. Kemble, to whom the whole collection of Dramas belonged, has written ‘First edition.’ ‘Collated and perfect, J. P. K. 1798.’ And on the opposite page he has copied the following ‘entry on the Stationers’ Registers.’ ‘July 22, 1598. (James Roberts) A booke of the Merchaunt of Venyse, otherwise called the Jewe of Venyse. Provided that it be not printed by the said James Roberts or any other whatsoever without leave first had from the ryght honourable, the Lord Chamberlen—39. b.’ This shows that he had examined the question. He possessed moreover a copy of the Heyes Quarto, also collated by him and found perfect.
Mr Bolton Corney in Notes and Queries (2nd ser. Vol. x. p. 21), has shown that there is at least a strong probability in favour of the precedence of the Roberts Quarto. We have therefore decided to call the Roberts Quarto Q1, and the Heyes Q2.
In a critical point of view the question is of little or no consequence. After a minute comparison of the two, we have come to the conclusion that neither was printed from the other. We are indebted sometimes to one and sometimes to the other for the true reading, where it is very improbable that the printer should have hit upon the correction. For example, Act ii. Sc. 8, line 39, the Roberts Quarto, sig. E. 1. recto, has ‘Slubber not business...’ while the Heyes Quarto, sig. D. 4. recto, has ‘Slumber....’ On the other hand, Act iii. Sc. 1, line 6, the Heyes Quarto, sig. F. 2. recto, has ‘gossip report,’ the true reading, while the Roberts Quarto, sig. F. 2. verso, has ‘gossips report.’ Other instances might be brought to prove that neither edition is printed from the other. But there is reason to think that they were printed from the same MS. Their agreement in spelling and punctuation and in manifest errors is too close to admit of any other hypothesis. We incline to believe that this common MS. was a transcript made from the author’s. It is certain, for instance, that the MS. had ‘veiling an Indian beauty’ (Act iii. Sc. 2, line 99), and it is equally certain that ‘beauty’ was not the word Shakespeare meant. Other examples of common errors derived from the MS. will be found in our footnotes, and our readers may investigate the question for themselves.
Q1 seems to have been printed by a more accurate printer or ‘overseen’ by a more accurate corrector than Q2, and therefore cœteris paribus we have preferred the authority of Q1.
The First Folio text is a reprint of the Heyes Quarto, which had doubtless belonged to the theatre library, and, as in other cases, had had some stage directions inserted.
The third Quarto, Q3, is also reprinted from Q2. It was published with the following title-page:
The most excellent | Historie of the Merchant | of Venice. | With the extreame crueltie of Shylocke | the Iewe towards the said Merchant, in | cutting a just pound of his flesh: and the obtaining of Portia by the choice | of three Chests. | As it hath beene divers times acted by the | Lord Chamberlaine his Servants. | Written by William Shakespeare. | London, | Printed by M.P. for Laurence Hayes, and are to be sold | at his Shop on Fleetbridge. 1637.
The so-called Fourth Quarto differs from Q3 only in having a new title-page. We might have suppressed ‘Q4’ altogether, but having made the collation we allow the record to stand. The title-page of Q4 is as follows:
The most excellent | Historie | of the | Merchant of Venice: | With the extreame cruelty of Shylocke | the Jew towards the said Merchant, in cutting a | just pound of his flesh; and the obtaining | of Portia by the choyce of three Chests. | As it hath beene diverse times acted by the | Lord Chamberlaine his Servants. | Written by William Shakespeare. | London: | Printed for William Leake, and are to be solde at his shop at the | signe of the Crown in Fleetstreet, between the two | Temple Gates. 1652.
The ‘Lansdowne version,’ which we have quoted in the notes, is the adaptation of The Merchant of Venice, published by Lord Lansdowne in 1701 under the title of The Jew of Venice.
5. As You Like It was printed for the first time in the First Folio; at least if any previous edition was ever published, no copy of it is known to be extant. This alone, of all the plays contained in the present volume, is divided into scenes in the Folio. In this play an unusual number of certain and probable emendations are due to the Second Folio.
The ‘De Quincey (or ‘Quincy’) MS.’ is an annotated copy of the Fourth Folio, quoted by Mr Grant White and Mr Halliwell.
In addition to those mentioned in the preface to the first volume, to whom we beg here to repeat our acknowledgments, we have to thank the Countess of Ellesmere and the Duke of Devonshire for the liberality with which they have thrown open to us the treasures of their libraries. We have to thank the Duke of Devonshire also for the interest which he has taken in our work and the help he has been kind enough to render in person. And on the same score we owe a debt of gratitude to Dr Kingsley, Mr Howard Staunton, Mr H. J. Roby, and Professor Craik, whose excellent volume The English of Shakespeare is too well known to need any commendation from us.
One act of kindness deserves an especial record. Dr Leo of Berlin, who had himself prepared an edition of Coriolanus, was meditating a complete edition of Shakespeare on the plan we have adopted, but gave up the scheme when he found we had anticipated him. Reading in the preface to our first volume an expression of regret that there was no index to Mr Sidney Walker’s Shakespeare Criticisms, Dr Leo copied out and sent us an index which he had made for his own use. It has been of the greatest service to us, and we here beg to thank him most cordially for his generous aid.
Mr Glover’s removal from Cambridge having compelled him to relinquish his part as Editor, Mr Wright, who was already engaged on the Glossary, has taken his place. This arrangement will, it is hoped, continue to the end.
Don Pedro, prince of Arragon.
Don John, his bastard brother.
Claudio, a young lord of Florence.
Benedick, a young lord of Padua.
Leonato, governor of Messina.
Antonio, his brother.
Balthasar, attendant on Don Pedro.
Conrade, follower of Don John.
Borachio, ” ” ”
Friar Francis.
Dogberry, a constable.
Verges, a headborough.
A Sexton.
A Boy.
Hero, daughter to Leonato2.
Beatrice, niece to Leonato.
Margaret, gentlewoman attending on Hero.
Ursula, ” ” ”
Messengers, Watch, Attendants, &c.
Scene—Messina.
001 Leon. I learn in this letter that Don Peter of Arragon comes this night to Messina.
Mess. He is very near by this: he was not three leagues off when I left him.
005 Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost in this action?
Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name.
Leon. A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings 008 home full numbers. I find here that Don Peter hath bestowed much honour on a young Florentine called Claudio.
010 Mess. Much deserved on his part, and equally remembered by Don Pedro: he hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age; doing, in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion: he hath indeed better bettered expectation than you must expect of me to tell you how.
015 Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it.
Mess. I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much joy in him; even so much, that joy could not show itself modest enough without a badge of bitterness.
020 Leon. Did he break out into tears?
Mess. In great measure.
Leon. A kind overflow of kindness: there are no faces truer than those that are so washed. How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping!
025 Beat. I pray you, is Signior Mountanto returned from the wars or no?
Mess. I know none of that name, lady: there was none such in the army of any sort.
Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece?
030 Hero. My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua.
Mess. O, he’s returned; and as pleasant as ever he was.
Beat. He set up his bills here in Messina and challenged Cupid at the flight; and my uncle’s fool, reading the challenge, subscribed for Cupid, and challenged him at the 035 bird-bolt. I pray you, how many hath he killed and eaten in these wars? But how many hath he killed? for, indeed, 037 I promised to eat all of his killing.
Leon. Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much; 039 but he’ll be meet with you, I doubt it not.
040 Mess. He hath done good service, lady, in these wars.
041 Beat. You had musty victual, and he hath help to eat 042 it: he is a very valiant trencher-man; he hath an excellent stomach.
Mess. And a good soldier too, lady.
045 Beat. And a good soldier to a lady: but what is he to a lord?
Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuffed with all honourable virtues.
Beat. It is so, indeed; he is no less than a stuffed 050 man: but for the stuffing,—well, we are all mortal.
Leon. You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her: they never meet but there’s a skirmish of wit between them.
Beat. Alas, he gets nothing by that! In our last conflict 055 four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man governed with one: so that if he have wit enough 057 to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between 058 himself and his horse; for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasonable creature. Who is his companion 060 now? He hath every month a new sworn brother.
Mess. Is’t possible?
Beat. Very easily possible: he wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat; it ever changes with the next block.
Mess. I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books.
065 Beat. No; an he were, I would burn my study. But, pray you, who is his companion? Is there no young squarer now that will make a voyage with him to the devil?
Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio.
070 Beat. O Lord, he will hang upon him like a disease: he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio! if he have 073 caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere 074 a’ be cured.
075 Mess. I will hold friends with you, lady.
Beat. Do, good friend.
077 Leon. You will never run mad, niece.
Beat. No, not till a hot January.
079 Mess. Don Pedro is approached.
080 D. Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: the fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and 081 you encounter it.
Leon. Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your Grace: for trouble being gone, comfort should 085 remain; but when you depart from me, sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave.
087 D. Pedro. You embrace your charge too willingly. I think this is your daughter.
Leon. Her mother hath many times told me so.
090 Bene. Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her?
Leon. Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a child.
092 D. Pedro. You have it full, Benedick: we may guess by this what you are, being a man. Truly, the lady fathers herself. Be happy, lady; for you are like an honourable 095 father.
Bene. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is.
Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior 100 Benedick: nobody marks you.
Bene. What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living?
Beat. Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it, as Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence.
105 Bene. Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted: and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart; for, truly, I love none.
Beat. A dear happiness to women: they would else have 110 been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that: I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.
Bene. God keep your ladyship still in that mind! so some gentleman or other shall ’scape a predestinate scratched face.
115 Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, an ’twere such 116 a face as yours were.
Bene. Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.
Beat. A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.
Bene. I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, 120 and so good a continuer. But keep your way, i’ God’s name; I have done.
Beat. You always end with a jade’s trick: I know you of old.
124 D. Pedro. That is the sum of all, Leonato. Signior 125 Claudio and Signior Benedick, my dear friend Leonato 126 hath invited you all. I tell him we shall stay here at the least a month; and he heartily prays some occasion may detain us longer. I dare swear he is no hypocrite, but prays from his heart.
130 Leon. If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn. 131 [To Don John] Let me bid you welcome, my lord: being reconciled to the prince your brother, I owe you all duty.
D. John. I thank you: I am not of many words, but I thank you.
135 Leon. Please it your Grace lead on?
136 D. Pedro. Your hand, Leonato; we will go together. [Exeunt all except Benedick and Claudio.
137 Claud. Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato?
Bene. I noted her not; but I looked on her.
140 Claud. Is she not a modest young lady?
Bene. Do you question me, as an honest man should do, for my simple true judgement; or would you have me speak 143 after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex?
144 Claud. No; I pray thee speak in sober judgement.
145 Bene. Why, i’faith, methinks she’s too low for a high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise: only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome; and being no other but as she is, I do not like her.
150 Claud. Thou thinkest I am in sport: I pray thee tell me truly how thou likest her.
Bene. Would you buy her, that you inquire after her?
Claud. Can the world buy such a jewel?
154 Bene. Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak you this 155 with a sad brow? or do you play the flouting Jack, to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare carpenter? Come, in what key shall a man take you, to go in the song?
158 Claud. In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that ever I looked on.
160 Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter: there’s her cousin, an she were not possessed 162 with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December. But I hope you have no intent to turn husband, have you?
165 Claud. I would scarce trust myself, though I had sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife.
167 Bene. Is’t come to this? In faith, hath not the world one man but he will wear his cap with suspicion? Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore again? Go to, i’faith; 170 an thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh away Sundays. Look; Don Pedro is 172 returned to seek you.
173 D. Pedro. What secret hath held you here, that you 174 followed not to Leonato’s?
175 Bene. I would your Grace would constrain me to tell.
D. Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegiance.
177 Bene. You hear, Count Claudio: I can be secret as a dumb man; I would have you think so; but, on my allegiance, mark you this, on my allegiance. He is in love. 180 With who? now that is your Grace’s part. Mark how 181 short his answer is;—With Hero, Leonato’s short daughter.
182 Claud. If this were so, so were it uttered.
Bene. Like the old tale, my lord: ‘it is not so, nor ’twas not so, but, indeed, God forbid it should be so.’
185 Claud. If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be otherwise.
D. Pedro. Amen, if you love her; for the lady is very well worthy.
Claud. You speak this to fetch me in, my lord.
190 D. Pedro. By my troth, I speak my thought.
Claud. And, in faith, my lord, I spoke mine.
Bene. And, by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I 193 spoke mine.
Claud. That I love her, I feel.
195 D. Pedro. That she is worthy, I know.
Bene. That I neither feel how she should be loved, nor know how she should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me: I will die in it at the stake.
D. Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the 200 despite of beauty.
Claud. And never could maintain his part but in the force of his will.
Bene. That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she brought me up, I likewise give her most humble thanks: 205 but that I will have a recheat winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick, all women shall pardon me. Because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the right to trust none; and the fine is, for the which I may go the finer, I will live a bachelor.
210 D. Pedro. I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love.
Bene. With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord; not with love: prove that ever I lose more blood with love than I will get again with drinking, pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker’s pen, and hang me up at the door of 215 a brothel-house for the sign of blind Cupid.
D. Pedro. Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument.
Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat, and shoot 219 at me; and he that hits me, let him be clapped on the 220 shoulder, and called Adam.
D. Pedro. Well, as time shall try: ‘In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke.’
Bene. The savage bull may; but if ever the sensible Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull’s horns, and set them 225 in my forehead: and let me be vilely painted; and in such great letters as they write ‘Here is good horse to hire,’ let them signify under my sign ‘Here you may see Benedick the married man.’
Claud. If this should ever happen, thou wouldst be 230 horn-mad.
D. Pedro. Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly.
Bene. I look for an earthquake too, then.
D. Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the hours. In 235 the meantime, good Signior Benedick, repair to Leonato’s: commend me to him, and tell him I will not fail him at supper; for indeed he hath made great preparation.
Bene. I have almost matter enough in me for such an embassage; and so I commit you—
240 Claud. To the tuition of God: From my house, if I had it,—
D. Pedro. The sixth of July: Your loving friend, Benedick.
Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not. The body of your discourse 245 is sometime guarded with fragments, and the guards are but slightly basted on neither: ere you flout old ends any further, examine your conscience: and so I leave you. [Exit.
248 Claud. My liege, your highness now may do me good.
249 D. Pedro. My love is thine to teach: teach it but how,
250 And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn
Any hard lesson that may do thee good.
Claud. Hath Leonato any son, my lord?
D. Pedro. No child but Hero; she’s his only heir.
Dost thou affect her, Claudio?
O, my lord,
255 When you went onward on this ended action,
I look’d upon her with a soldier’s eye,
That liked, but had a rougher task in hand
Than to drive liking to the name of love:
But now I am return’d and that war-thoughts
260 Have left their places vacant, in their rooms
Come thronging soft and delicate desires,
All prompting me how fair young Hero is,
Saying, I liked her ere I went to wars.
D. Pedro. Thou wilt be like a lover presently,
265 And tire the hearer with a book of words.
If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it;
267 And I will break with her and with her father,
268 And thou shalt have her. Was’t not to this end
269 That thou began’st to twist so fine a story?
270 Claud. How sweetly you do minister to love,
That know love’s grief by his complexion!
But lest my liking might too sudden seem,
I would have salved it with a longer treatise.
D. Pedro. What need the bridge much broader than the flood?
275 The fairest grant is the necessity.
Look, what will serve is fit: ’tis once, thou lovest,
And I will fit thee with the remedy.
I know we shall have revelling to-night:
I will assume thy part in some disguise,
280 And tell fair Hero I am Claudio;
And in her bosom I’ll unclasp my heart,
282 And take her hearing prisoner with the force
And strong encounter of my amorous tale:
Then after to her father will I break;
285 And the conclusion is, she shall be thine.
286 In practice let us put it presently. [Exeunt.
Leon. How now, brother! Where is my cousin, your son? hath he provided this music?
Ant. He is very busy about it. But, brother, I can tell 004 you strange news, that you yet dreamt not of.
005 Leon. Are they good?
006 Ant. As the event stamps them: but they have a good cover; they show well outward. The prince and Count 008 Claudio, walking in a thick-pleached alley in mine orchard, 009 were thus much overheard by a man of mine: the prince 010 discovered to Claudio that he loved my niece your daughter, and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance; 012 and if he found her accordant, he meant to take the present time by the top, and instantly break with you of it.
Leon. Hath the fellow any wit that told you this?
015 Ant. A good sharp fellow: I will send for him; and question him yourself.
Leon. No, no; we will hold it as a dream till it appear 018 itself: but I will acquaint my daughter withal, that she may 019 be the better prepared for an answer, if peradventure this be 020 true. Go you and tell her of it. [Enter attendants.] Cousins, you know what you have to do. O, I cry you mercy, friend; go you with me, and I will use your skill. Good 023 cousin, have a care this busy time. [Exeunt.
001 Con. What the good-year, my lord! why are you thus out of measure sad?
D. John. There is no measure in the occasion that 004 breeds; therefore the sadness is without limit.
005 Con. You should hear reason.
D. John. And when I have heard it, what blessing 007 brings it?
008 Con. If not a present remedy, at least a patient sufferance.
D. John. I wonder that thou, being (as thou sayest thou 010 art) born under Saturn, goest about to apply a moral medicine to a mortifying mischief. I cannot hide what I am: I must be sad when I have cause, and smile at no man’s jests; eat when I have stomach, and wait for no man’s leisure; sleep when I am drowsy, and tend on no man’s business; 015 laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in his humour.
016 Con. Yea, but you must not make the full show of this 017 till you may do it without controlment. You have of late stood out against your brother, and he hath ta’en you newly 019 into his grace; where it is impossible you should take true 020 root but by the fair weather that you make yourself: it is needful that you frame the season for your own harvest.
D. John. I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose 023 in his grace; and it better fits my blood to be disdained of all than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any: in this, 025 though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man, it must not be denied but I am a plain-dealing villain. I am 027 trusted with a muzzle, and enfranchised with a clog; therefore I have decreed not to sing in my cage. If I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do my 030 liking: in the meantime let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me.
Con. Can you make no use of your discontent?
033 D. John. I make all use of it, for I use it only. Who comes here?
035 What news, Borachio?
036 Bora. I came yonder from a great supper: the prince your brother is royally entertained by Leonato; and I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage.
D. John. Will it serve for any model to build mischief 040 on? What is he for a fool that betroths himself to unquietness?
Bora. Marry, it is your brother’s right hand.
D. John. Who? the most exquisite Claudio?
Bora. Even he.
045 D. John. A proper squire! And who, and who? which way looks he?
047 Bora. Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato.
048 D. John. A very forward March-chick! How came you 049 to this?
050 Bora. Being entertained for a perfumer, as I was smoking a musty room, comes me the prince and Claudio, 052 hand in hand, in sad conference: I whipt me behind the arras; and there heard it agreed upon, that the prince should woo Hero for himself, and having obtained her, give 055 her to Count Claudio.
D. John. Come, come, let us thither: this may prove food to my displeasure. That young start-up hath all the glory of my overthrow: if I can cross him any way, I bless myself 059 every way. You are both sure, and will assist me?
060 Con. To the death, my lord.
D. John. Let us to the great supper: their cheer is the greater that I am subdued. Would the cook were of my mind! Shall we go prove what’s to be done?
Bora. We’ll wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt.
Leon. Was not Count John here at supper?
Ant. I saw him not.
Beat. How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see him but I am heart-burned an hour after.
005 Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition.
Beat. He were an excellent man that were made just in the midway between him and Benedick: the one is too like an image and says nothing, and the other too like my lady’s eldest son, evermore tattling.
010 Leon. Then half Signior Benedick’s tongue in Count John’s mouth, and half Count John’s melancholy in Signior Benedick’s face,—
Beat. With a good leg and a good foot, uncle, and money enough in his purse, such a man would win any 015 woman in the world, if a’ could get her good-will.
Leon. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue.
Ant. In faith, she’s too curst.
Beat. Too curst is more than curst: I shall lessen God’s 020 sending that way; for it is said, ‘God sends a curst cow short horns;’ but to a cow too curst he sends none.
Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns.
Beat. Just, if he send me no husband; for the which blessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and 025 evening. Lord, I could not endure a husband with a beard 026 on his face: I had rather lie in the woollen.
027 Leon. You may light on a husband that hath no beard.
Beat. What should I do with him? dress him in my apparel, and make him my waiting-gentlewoman? He that 030 hath a beard is more than a youth; and he that hath no beard is less than a man: and he that is more than a youth is not for me; and he that is less than a man, I am not for him: therefore I will even take sixpence in earnest of the 034 bear-ward, and lead his apes into hell.
035 Leon. Well, then, go you into hell?
Beat. No, but to the gate; and there will the devil meet 037 me, like an old cuckold, with horns on his head, and say ‘Get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you to heaven; here’s no place for you maids:’ so deliver I up my apes, and away 040 to Saint Peter for the heavens; he shows me where the bachelors sit, and there live we as merry as the day is long.
Ant. [To Hero] Well, niece, I trust you will be ruled by your father.
044 Beat. Yes, faith; it is my cousin’s duty to make courtesy, and say, ‘Father, as it please you.’ But yet for all 045 that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make 047 another courtesy, and say, ‘Father, as it please me.’
Leon. Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband.
050 Beat. Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be overmastered 052 with a piece of valiant dust? to make an account of her life 053 to a clod of wayward marl? No, uncle, I’ll none: Adam’s 054 sons are my brethren; and, truly, I hold it a sin to match 055 in my kindred.
Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you: if the prince do solicit you in that kind, you know your answer.
Beat. The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be 059 not wooed in good time: if the prince be too important, tell 060 him there is measure in every thing, and so dance out the 061 answer. For, hear me, Hero: wooing, wedding, and repenting, 062 is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque pace: the first suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wedding, mannerly-modest, as a measure, 065 full of state and ancientry; and then comes repentance, and, with his bad legs, falls into the cinque pace faster and 067 faster, till he sink into his grave.
Leon. Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly.
Beat. I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by 070 daylight.
Leon. The revellers are entering, brother: make good 072 room. [All put on their masks.
D. Pedro. Lady, will you walk about with your friend?
Hero. So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and say 075 nothing, I am yours for the walk; and especially when I walk away.
D. Pedro. With me in your company?
Hero. I may say so, when I please.
D. Pedro. And when please you to say so?
080 Hero. When I like your favour; for God defend the lute should be like the case!
082 D. Pedro. My visor is Philemon’s roof; within the house 083 is Jove.
084 Hero. Why, then, your visor should be thatched.
085 D. Pedro. Speak low, if you speak love. [Drawing her aside.
086 Balth. Well, I would you did like me.
087 Marg. So would not I, for your own sake; for I have many ill qualities.
Balth. Which is one?
090 Marg. I say my prayers aloud.
091 Balth. I love you the better: the hearers may cry, Amen.
Marg. God match me with a good dancer!
Balth. Amen.
Marg. And God keep him out of my sight when the 095 dance is done! Answer, clerk.
096 Balth. No more words: the clerk is answered.
Urs. I know you well enough; you are Signior Antonio.
Ant. At a word, I am not.
Urs. I know you by the waggling of your head.
100 Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him.
101 Urs. You could never do him so ill-well; unless you were the very man. Here’s his dry hand up and down: you are he, you are he.
Ant. At a word, I am not.
105 Urs. Come, come, do you think I do not know you by 106 your excellent wit? can virtue hide itself? Go to, mum, 107 you are he: graces will appear, and there’s an end.
Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so?
Bene. No, you shall pardon me.
110 Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are?
Bene. Not now.
Beat. That I was disdainful, and that I had my good wit out of the ‘Hundred Merry Tales’:—well, this was Signior Benedick that said so.
115 Bene. What’s he?
116 Beat. I am sure you know him well enough.
Bene. Not I, believe me.
Beat. Did he never make you laugh?
Bene. I pray you, what is he?
120 Beat. Why, he is the prince’s jester: a very dull fool; 121 only his gift is in devising impossible slanders: none but libertines delight in him; and the commendation is not in 123 his wit, but in his villany; for he both pleases men and angers them, and then they laugh at him and beat him. I 125 am sure he is in the fleet: I would he had boarded me.
Bene. When I know the gentleman, I’ll tell him what you say.
Beat. Do, do: he’ll but break a comparison or two on me; which, peradventure not marked or not laughed at, 130 strikes him into melancholy; and then there’s a partridge 131 wing saved, for the fool will eat no supper that night. [Music.] We must follow the leaders.
Bene. In every good thing.
Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at 135 the next turning. [Dance. Then exeunt all except Don John, Borachio, and Claudio.
136 D. John. Sure my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it. The ladies follow her, and but one visor remains.
Bora. And that is Claudio: I know him by his bearing.
140 D. John. Are not you Signior Benedick?
Claud. You know me well; I am he.
D. John. Signior, you are very near my brother in his love: he is enamoured on Hero; I pray you, dissuade him from her: she is no equal for his birth: you may do the 145 part of an honest man in it.
146 Claud. How know you he loves her?
D. John. I heard him swear his affection.
Bora. So did I too; and he swore he would marry her to-night.
150 D. John. Come, let us to the banquet. [Exeunt Don John and Borachio.
Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick,
152 But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio.
’Tis certain so; the prince wooes for himself.
Friendship is constant in all other things
155 Save in the office and affairs of love:
156 Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues;
Let every eye negotiate for itself,
158 And trust no agent; for beauty is a witch,
Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.
160 This is an accident of hourly proof,
161 Which I mistrusted not. Farewell, therefore, Hero!
Bene. Count Claudio?
Claud. Yea, the same.
Bene. Come, will you go with me?
165 Claud. Whither?
Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own business, 167 county. What fashion will you wear the garland of? about 168 your neck, like an usurer’s chain? or under your arm, like a lieutenant’s scarf? You must wear it one way, for the 170 prince hath got your Hero.
Claud. I wish him joy of her.
172 Bene. Why, that’s spoken like an honest drovier: so they sell bullocks. But did you think the prince would have served you thus?
175 Claud. I pray you, leave me.
176 Bene. Ho! now you strike like the blind man: ’twas the boy that stole your meat, and you’ll beat the post.
Claud. If it will not be, I’ll leave you. [Exit.
179 Bene. Alas, poor hurt fowl! now will he creep into 180 sedges. But, that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and 181 not know me! The prince’s fool! Ha? It may be I go 182 under that title because I am merry. Yea, but so I am 183 apt to do myself wrong; I am not so reputed: it is the base, 184 though bitter, disposition of Beatrice that puts the world 185 into her person, and so gives me out. Well, I’ll be revenged as I may.
187 D. Pedro. Now, signior, where’s the count? did you see him?
Bene. Troth, my lord, I have played the part of Lady 190 Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a 191 warren: I told him, and I think I told him true, that your 192 grace had got the good will of this young lady; and I offered him my company to a willow-tree, either to make him a garland, 194 as being forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being 195 worthy to be whipped.
D. Pedro. To be whipped! What’s his fault?
Bene. The flat transgression of a school-boy, who, 198 being overjoyed with finding a birds’ nest, shows it his companion, and he steals it.
200 D. Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The transgression is in the stealer.
Bene. Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made, and the garland too; for the garland he might have worn himself, and the rod he might have bestowed on you, 205 who, as I take it, have stolen his birds’ nest.
D. Pedro. I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner.
Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith, you say honestly.
210 D. Pedro. The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you: the gentleman that danced with her told her she is much wronged by you.
Bene. O, she misused me past the endurance of a 214 block! an oak but with one green leaf on it would have 215 answered her; my very visor began to assume life and scold with her. She told me, not thinking I had been 217 myself, that I was the prince’s jester, that I was duller 218 than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jest, with such impossible conveyance, upon me, that I stood like a man at 220 a mark, with a whole army shooting at me. She speaks poniards, and every word stabs: if her breath were as terrible 222 as her terminations, there were no living near her; 223 she would infect to the north star. I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam had 225 left him before he transgressed: she would have made Hercules have turned spit, yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not of her: you shall find 228 her the infernal Ate in good apparel. I would to God some scholar would conjure her; for certainly, while she is 230 here, a man may live as quiet in hell as in a sanctuary; and people sin upon purpose, because they would go thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, horror, and perturbation 233 follows her.
D. Pedro. Look, here she comes.
235 Bene. Will your grace command me any service to the world’s end? I will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes that you can devise to send me on; I will fetch you a toothpicker now from the furthest inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prester John’s foot; fetch you a 240 hair off the great Cham’s beard; do you any embassage to the Pigmies; rather than hold three words’ conference 242 with this harpy. You have no employment for me?
D. Pedro. None, but to desire your good company.
Bene. O God, sir, here’s a dish I love not: I cannot 245 endure my Lady Tongue. [Exit.
D. Pedro. Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of Signior Benedick.
Beat. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile; and I 249 gave him use for it, a double heart for his single one: 250 marry, once before he won it of me with false dice, therefore your Grace may well say I have lost it.
D. Pedro. You have put him down, lady, you have put him down.
Beat. So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I 255 should prove the mother of fools. I have brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek.
D. Pedro. Why, how now, count! wherefore are you sad?
Claud. Not sad, my lord.
260 D. Pedro. How then? sick?
Claud. Neither, my lord.
Beat. The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, 263 nor well; but civil count, civil as an orange, and something 264 of that jealous complexion.
265 D. Pedro. I’ faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true; 266 though, I’ll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero 268 is won: I have broke with her father, and his good will obtained: name the day of marriage, and God give thee 270 joy!
Leon. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his Grace hath made the match, and all grace say Amen to it.
Beat. Speak, count, ’tis your cue.
275 Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for you, and dote upon the exchange.
Beat. Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth 280 with a kiss, and let not him speak neither.
D. Pedro. In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.
Beat. Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy side of care. My cousin tells him in his ear 284 that he is in her heart.
285 Claud. And so she doth, cousin.
Beat. Good Lord, for alliance! Thus goes every one 287 to the world but I, and I am sun-burnt; I may sit in a 288 corner, and cry heigh-ho for a husband!
D. Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one.
290 Beat. I would rather have one of your father’s getting. Hath your Grace ne’er a brother like you? Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them.
D. Pedro. Will you have me, lady?
Beat. No, my lord, unless I might have another for 295 working-days: your Grace is too costly to wear every day. But, I beseech your Grace, pardon me: I was born to speak all mirth and no matter.
D. Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to be 299 merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were 300 born in a merry hour.
Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then 302 there was a star danced, and under that was I born. Cousins, God give you joy!
Leon. Niece, will you look to those things I told 305 you of?
Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle. By your Grace’s pardon. [Exit.
308 D. Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady.
Leon. There’s little of the melancholy element in her, 310 my lord: she is never sad but when she sleeps; and not 311 ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say, she hath 312 often dreamed of unhappiness, and waked herself with laughing.
D. Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband.
315 Leon. O, by no means: she mocks all her wooers out of suit.
D. Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Benedick.
Leon. O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week married, they would talk themselves mad.
320 D. Pedro. County Claudio, when mean you to go to church?
Claud. To-morrow, my lord: time goes on crutches till love have all his rites.
Leon. Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a 325 just seven-night; and a time too brief, too, to have all 326 things answer my mind.
D. Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing: but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us. I will, in the interim, undertake one of 330 Hercules’ labours; which is, to bring Signior Benedick and 331 the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection the one with the other. I would fain have it a match; and I doubt 333 not but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction.
335 Leon. My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights’ watchings.
Claud. And I, my lord.
D. Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero?
Hero. I will do any modest office, my lord, to help 340 my cousin to a good husband.
D. Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know. Thus far can I praise him; he is of a noble strain, of approved valour, and confirmed honesty. I will teach you how to humour your cousin, that she shall 345 fall in love with Benedick; and I, with your two helps, will so practise on Benedick, that, in despite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer: his glory shall be ours, for we are the only love-gods. Go 350 in with me, and I will tell you my drift. [Exeunt.
D. John. It is so; the Count Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato.
Bora. Yea, my lord; but I can cross it.
D. John. Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be 005 medicinable to me: I am sick in displeasure to him; and whatsoever comes athwart his affection ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage?
Bora. Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me.
010 D. John. Show me briefly how.
Bora. I think I told your lordship, a year since, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to Hero.
D. John. I remember.
015 Bora. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to look out at her lady’s chamber window.
D. John. What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage?
Bora. The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you 020 to the prince your brother; spare not to tell him that he hath wronged his honour in marrying the renowned Claudio—whose estimation do you mightily hold up—to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero.
D. John. What proof shall I make of that?
025 Bora. Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato. Look you for any other issue?
D. John. Only to despite them, I will endeavour any thing.
030 Bora. Go, then; find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro and the Count Claudio alone: tell them that you know that Hero loves me; intend a kind of zeal both to the prince and 033 Claudio, as,—in love of your brother’s honour, who hath made this match, and his friend’s reputation, who is thus 035 like to be cozened with the semblance of a maid,—that you 036 have discovered thus. They will scarcely believe this without trial: offer them instances; which shall bear no less likelihood than to see me at her chamber-window; hear me call 039 Margaret, Hero; hear Margaret term me Claudio; and 040 bring them to see this the very night before the intended 041 wedding,—for in the meantime I will so fashion the matter that Hero shall be absent,—and there shall appear such 043 seeming truth of Hero’s disloyalty, that jealousy shall be called assurance and all the preparation overthrown.
045 D. John. Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put it in practice. Be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats.
048 Bora. Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame me.
050 D. John. I will presently go learn their day of marriage. [Exeunt.
001 Bene. Boy!
Boy. Signior?
Bene. In my chamber-window lies a book: bring it hither to me in the orchard.
005 Boy. I am here already, sir.
Bene. I know that; but I would have thee hence, and 007 here again. [Exit Boy.] I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to love, will, after he hath laughed at such 010 shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn by falling in love: and such a man is Claudio. I have known when there was no music with him but the drum and the fife; and now had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe: I have known when he would have walked ten mile a-foot 015 to see a good armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain and to the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier; 018 and now is he turned orthography; his words are a very fantastical banquet,—just so many strange dishes. May I 020 be so converted, and see with these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not: I will not be sworn but love may transform me 022 to an oyster; but I’ll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool. One woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am 025 well; another virtuous, yet I am well: but till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. 027 Rich she shall be, that’s certain; wise, or I’ll none; virtuous, or I’ll never cheapen her; fair, or I’ll never look on 029 her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an 030 angel; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour it please God. Ha! the prince and Monsieur Love! I will hide me in the arbour. [Withdraws.
D. Pedro. Come, shall we hear this music?
Claud. Yea, my good lord. How still the evening is,
035 As hush’d on purpose to grace harmony!
D. Pedro. See you where Benedick hath hid himself?
Claud. O, very well, my lord: the music ended,
038 We’ll fit the kid-fox with a pennyworth.
D. Pedro. Come, Balthasar, we’ll hear that song again.
040 Balth. O, good my lord, tax not so bad a voice
041 To slander music any more than once.
D. Pedro. It is the witness still of excellency
To put a strange face on his own perfection.
I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more.
045 Balth. Because you talk of wooing, I will sing;
Since many a wooer doth commence his suit
To her he thinks not worthy, yet he wooes,
Yet will he swear he loves.
Nay, pray thee, come;
Or, if thou wilt hold longer argument,
Do it in notes.
050 Note this before my notes;
There’s not a note of mine that’s worth the noting.
D. Pedro. Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks;
053 Note, notes, forsooth, and nothing. [Air.
Bene. Now, divine air! now is his soul ravished! Is it 055 not strange that sheeps’ guts should hale souls out of men’s bodies? Well, a horn for my money, when all’s done.
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever,
One foot in sea and one on shore,
060 To one thing constant never:
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into Hey nonny, nonny.
070 D. Pedro. By my troth, a good song.
Balth. And an ill singer, my lord.
072 D. Pedro. Ha, no, no, faith; thou singest well enough for a shift.
074 Bene. An he had been a dog that should have howled 075 thus, they would have hanged him: and I pray God his 076 bad voice bode no mischief. I had as lief have heard the night-raven, come what plague could have come after it.
D. Pedro. Yea, marry, dost thou hear, Balthasar? I 079 pray thee, get us some excellent music; for to-morrow night 080 we would have it at the Lady Hero’s chamber-window.
Balth. The best I can, my lord.
082 D. Pedro. Do so: farewell. [Exit Balthasar.] Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told me of to-day, that your niece Beatrice was in love with Signior 085 Benedick?
Claud. O, ay: stalk on, stalk on; the fowl sits. I did never think that lady would have loved any man.
Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful that she should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all 090 outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor.
Bene. Is’t possible? Sits the wind in that corner?
Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to 093 think of it, but that she loves him with an enraged affection; 094 it is past the infinite of thought.
095 D. Pedro. May be she doth but counterfeit.
Claud. Faith, like enough.
Leon. O God, counterfeit! There was never counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion as she discovers it.
D. Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shows she?
100 Claud. Bait the hook well; this fish will bite.
Leon. What effects, my lord? She will sit you, you 102 heard my daughter tell you how.
Claud. She did, indeed.
D. Pedro. How, how, I pray you? You amaze me: I 105 would have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection.
Leon. I would have sworn it had, my lord; especially against Benedick.
Bene. I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded 110 fellow speaks it: knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence.
Claud. He hath ta’en the infection: hold it up.
D. Pedro. Hath she made her affection known to Benedick?
115 Leon. No; and swears she never will: that’s her torment.
Claud. ’Tis true, indeed; so your daughter says: ‘Shall I,’ says she, ‘that have so oft encountered him with scorn, 120 write to him that I love him?’
Leon. This says she now when she is beginning to write to him; for she’ll be up twenty times a night; and there will she sit in her smock till she have writ a sheet of 124 paper: my daughter tells us all.
125 Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember 126 a pretty jest your daughter told us of.
127 Leon. O, when she had writ it, and was reading it 128 over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet?
Claud. That.
130 Leon. O, she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence; railed at herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her; ‘I measure him,’ 133 says she, ‘by my own spirit; for I should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I should.’
135 Claud. Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, 136 sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses; ‘O sweet Benedick! God give me patience!’
Leon. She doth indeed; my daughter says so: and the ecstasy hath so much overborne her, that my daughter is 140 sometime afeard she will do a desperate outrage to herself: it is very true.
D. Pedro. It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it.
144 Claud. To what end? He would make but a sport of 145 it, and torment the poor lady worse.
146 D. Pedro. An he should, it were an alms to hang him. She’s an excellent sweet lady; and, out of all suspicion, she is virtuous.
Claud. And she is exceeding wise.
150 D. Pedro. In every thing but in loving Benedick.
Leon. O, my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one that blood hath the victory. I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian.
155 D. Pedro. I would she had bestowed this dotage on 156 me: I would have daffed all other respects, and made her half myself. I pray you, tell Benedick of it, and hear what 158 a’ will say.
Leon. Were it good, think you?
160 Claud. Hero thinks surely she will die; for she says she will die, if he love her not; and she will die, ere she make her love known; and she will die, if he woo her, rather than she will bate one breath of her accustomed crossness.
D. Pedro. She doth well: if she should make tender of 165 her love, ’tis very possible he’ll scorn it; for the man, as 166 you know all, hath a contemptible spirit.
Claud. He is a very proper man.
D. Pedro. He hath indeed a good outward happiness.
169 Claud. Before God! and in my mind, very wise.
170 D. Pedro. He doth indeed show some sparks that are like wit.
172 Claud. And I take him to be valiant.
D. Pedro. As Hector, I assure you: and in the managing 174 of quarrels you may say he is wise; for either he avoids 175 them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a most Christian-like fear.
177 Leon. If he do fear God, a’ must necessarily keep peace: if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling.
180 D. Pedro. And so will he do; for the man doth fear God, howsoever it seems not in him by some large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for your niece. Shall we go 183 seek Benedick, and tell him of her love?
184 Claud. Never tell him, my lord: let her wear it out 185 with good counsel.
Leon. Nay, that’s impossible: she may wear her heart out first.
D. Pedro. Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter: let it cool the while. I love Benedick well; and 190 I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see 191 how much he is unworthy so good a lady.
Leon. My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready.
Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation.
195 D. Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for her; 196 and that must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry. 197 The sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of another’s dotage, and no such matter: that’s the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb-show. Let us send 200 her to call him in to dinner. [Exeunt Don Pedro, Claudio, and Leonato.
201 Bene. [Coming forward] This can be no trick: the conference was sadly borne. They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady: it seems her affections 204 have their full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited. 205 I hear how I am censured: they say I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. I did never think to marry: I must not seem proud: happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to 210 mending. They say the lady is fair,—’tis a truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous,—’tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me,—by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly, for I 214 will be horribly in love with her. I may chance have some 215 odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed so long against marriage: but doth not the appetite 217 alter? a man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career 220 of his humour? No, the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married. Here comes Beatrice. By this day! she’s a fair lady: I do spy some marks of love in her.
224 Beat. Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to 225 dinner.
Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.
Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to thank me: if it had been painful, I would not have come.
230 Bene. You take pleasure, then, in the message?
Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upon a 232 knife’s point, and choke a daw withal. You have no stomach, signior: fare you well. [Exit.
Bene. Ha! ‘Against my will I am sent to bid you come 235 in to dinner;’ there’s a double meaning in that. ‘I took no more pains for those thanks than you took pains to thank me;’ that’s as much as to say, Any pains that I take for 238 you is as easy as thanks. If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew. I will go get 240 her picture. [Exit.
001 Hero. Good Margaret, run thee to the parlour;
There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice
Proposing with the prince and Claudio:
004 Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula
005 Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse
Is all of her; say that thou overheard’st us;
And bid her steal into the pleached bower,
Where honeysuckles, ripen’d by the sun,
009 Forbid the sun to enter; like favourites,
010 Made proud by princes, that advance their pride
Against that power that bred it: there will she hide her,
012 To listen our propose. This is thy office;
Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone.
014 Marg. I’ll make her come, I warrant you, presently. [Exit.
015 Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley up and down,
Our talk must only be of Benedick.
When I do name him, let it be thy part
To praise him more than ever man did merit:
020 My talk to thee must be, how Benedick
Is sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter
Is little Cupid’s crafty arrow made,
That only wounds by hearsay.
Now begin;
For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs
025 Close by the ground, to hear our conference.
Urs. The pleasant’st angling is to see the fish
Cut with her golden oars the silver stream,
And greedily devour the treacherous bait:
029 So angle we for Beatrice; who even now
030 Is couched in the woodbine coverture.
Fear you not my part of the dialogue.
Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing
033 Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it. [Approaching the bower.
034 No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful;
035 I know her spirits are as coy and wild
As haggerds of the rock.
But are you sure
That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?
Hero. So says the prince and my new-trothed lord.
Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it, madam?
040 Hero. They did entreat me to acquaint her of it;
But I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick,
042 To wish him wrestle with affection,
And never to let Beatrice know of it.
Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman
045 Deserve as full as fortunate a bed
As ever Beatrice shall couch upon?
Hero. O god of love! I know he doth deserve
As much as may be yielded to a man:
But Nature never framed a woman’s heart
050 Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice;
051 Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Misprising what they look on; and her wit
Values itself so highly, that to her
All matter else seems weak: she cannot love,
055 Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
She is so self-endeared.
Sure, I think so;
And therefore certainly it were not good
058 She knew his love, lest she make sport at it.
Hero. Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man,
060 How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featured,
But she would spell him backward: if fair-faced,
062 She would swear the gentleman should be her sister;
063 If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antique,
Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed;
065 If low, an agate very vilely cut;
If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds;
If silent, why, a block moved with none.
So turns she every man the wrong side out;
And never gives to truth and virtue that
070 Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.
Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable.
072 Hero. No, not to be so odd, and from all fashions,
As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable:
But who dare tell her so? If I should speak,
075 She would mock me into air; O, she would laugh me
Out of myself, press me to death with wit!
Therefore let Benedick, like cover’d fire,
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly:
079 It were a better death than die with mocks,
080 Which is as bad as die with tickling.
Urs. Yet tell her of it: hear what she will say.
Hero. No; rather I will go to Benedick,
And counsel him to fight against his passion.
And, truly, I’ll devise some honest slanders
085 To stain my cousin with: one doth not know
How much an ill word may empoison liking.
Urs. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong!
She cannot be so much without true judgement,—
089 Having so swift and excellent a wit
090 As she is prized to have,—as to refuse
091 So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick.
Hero. He is the only man of Italy,
Always excepted my dear Claudio.
Urs. I pray you, be not angry with me, madam,
095 Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedick,
096 For shape, for bearing, argument and valour,
Goes foremost in report through Italy.
Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good name.
Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it.
100 When are you married, madam?
101 Hero. Why, every day, to-morrow. Come, go in:
I’ll show thee some attires; and have thy counsel
103 Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow.
104 Urs. She’s limed, I warrant you: we have caught her, madam.
105 Hero. If it prove so, then loving goes by haps:
106 Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. [Exeunt Hero and Ursula.
Beat. [Coming forward] 107 What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true?
Stand I condemn’d for pride and scorn so much?
Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu!
110 No glory lives behind the back of such.
And, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee,
Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand:
If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee
To bind our loves up in a holy band;
115 For others say thou dost deserve, and I
Believe it better than reportingly. [Exit.
D. Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, 002 and then go I toward Arragon.
Claud. I’ll bring you thither, my lord, if you’ll vouchsafe me.
005 D. Pedro. Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage, as to show a child his new coat and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick for his company; for, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth: he hath twice or thrice cut 010 Cupid’s bow-string, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him; he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinks his tongue speaks.
Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been.
Leon. So say I: methinks you are sadder.
015 Claud. I hope he be in love.
D. Pedro. Hang him, truant! there’s no true drop of blood in him, to be truly touched with love: if he be sad, he wants money.
Bene. I have the toothache.
020 D. Pedro. Draw it.
021 Bene. Hang it!
Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards.
D. Pedro. What! sigh for the toothache?
024 Leon. Where is but a humour or a worm.
025 Bene. Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it.
Claud. Yet say I, he is in love.
D. Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises; as, to 030 be a Dutchman to-day, a Frenchman to-morrow; or in the shape of two countries at once, as, a German from the waist downward, all slops, and a Spaniard from the hip upward, 033 no doublet. Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have 035 it appear he is.
Claud. If he be not in love with some woman, there is 037 no believing old signs: a’ brushes his hat o’ mornings; what should that bode?
D. Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber’s?
040 Claud. No, but the barber’s man hath been seen with him; and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuffed tennis-balls.
Leon. Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a beard.
045 D. Pedro. Nay, a’ rubs himself with civet: can you smell him out by that?
Claud. That’s as much as to say, the sweet youth’s in love.
048 D. Pedro. The greatest note of it is his melancholy.
Claud. And when was he wont to wash his face?
050 D. Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear what they say of him.
Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit; which is now crept 053 into a lute-string, and now governed by stops.
054 D. Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him: conclude, 055 conclude he is in love.
Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him.
D. Pedro. That would I know too: I warrant, one that knows him not.
Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions; and, in despite of 060 all, dies for him.
061 D. Pedro. She shall be buried with her face upwards.
Bene. Yet is this no charm for the toothache. Old signior, walk aside with me: I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak to you, which these hobby-horses must not 065 hear. [Exeunt Benedick and Leonato.
D. Pedro. For my life, to break with him about Beatrice.
Claud. ’Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this played their parts with Beatrice; and then the two bears will not bite one another when they meet.
070 D. John. My lord and brother, God save you!
D. Pedro. Good den, brother.
D. John. If your leisure served, I would speak with you.
D. Pedro. In private?
D. John. If it please you: yet Count Claudio may 075 hear; for what I would speak of concerns him.
076 D. Pedro. What’s the matter?
D. John. [To Claudio] Means your lordship to be married to-morrow?
D. Pedro. You know he does.
080 D. John. I know not that, when he knows what I know.
Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it.
D. John. You may think I love you not: let that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will 085 manifest. For my brother, I think he holds you well, and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect your ensuing marriage,—surely suit ill spent and labour ill bestowed.
D. Pedro. Why, what’s the matter?
D. John. I came hither to tell you; and, circumstances 090 shortened, for she has been too long a talking of, the lady is disloyal.
Claud. Who, Hero?
D. John. Even she; Leonato’s Hero, your Hero, every man’s Hero.
095 Claud. Disloyal?
D. John. The word is too good to paint out her wickedness; I could say she were worse: think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not till further warrant: 099 go but with me to-night, you shall see her chamber-window 100 entered, even the night before her wedding-day: if 101 you love her then, to-morrow wed her; but it would better fit your honour to change your mind.
Claud. May this be so?
D. Pedro. I will not think it.
105 D. John. If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know: if you will follow me, I will show you enough; and when you have seen more, and heard more, proceed accordingly.
Claud. If I see any thing to-night why I should not 110 marry her to-morrow, in the congregation, where I should wed, there will I shame her.
D. Pedro. And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her.
D. John. I will disparage her no farther till you are my 115 witnesses: bear it coldly but till midnight, and let the issue show itself.
D. Pedro. O day untowardly turned!
Claud. O mischief strangely thwarting!
119 D. John. O plague right well prevented! so will you 120 say when you have seen the sequel. [Exeunt.
Dog. Are you good men and true?
Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, body and soul.
Dog. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, 005 if they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the prince’s watch.
Verg. Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry.
008 Dog. First, who think you the most desartless man to be constable?
010 First Watch. Hugh Otecake, sir, or George Seacole; for they can write and read.
Dog. Come hither, neighbour Seacole. God hath blessed you with a good name: to be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune; but to write and read comes by nature.
015 Sec. Watch. Both which, master constable,—
Dog. You have: I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your favour, sir, why, give God thanks, and make no boast of it; and for your writing and reading, let that appear 019 when there is no need of such vanity. You are thought 020 here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable 021 of the watch; therefore bear you the lantern. This is your charge: you shall comprehend all vagrom men; you are to bid any man stand, in the prince’s name.
024 Sec. Watch. How if a’ will not stand?
025 Dog. Why, then, take no note of him, but let him go; and presently call the rest of the watch together, and thank God you are rid of a knave.
Verg. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the prince’s subjects.
030 Dog. True, and they are to meddle with none but the prince’s subjects. You shall also make no noise in the 032 streets; for for the watch to babble and to talk is most tolerable and not to be endured.
034 Watch. We will rather sleep than talk: we know what 035 belongs to a watch.
Dog. Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman; for I cannot see how sleeping should offend: only, have a care that your bills be not stolen. Well, you 039 are to call at all the ale-houses, and bid those that are 040 drunk get them to bed.
Watch. How if they will not?
Dog. Why, then, let them alone till they are sober: if they make you not then the better answer, you may say they are not the men you took them for.
045 Watch. Well, sir.
Dog. If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue of your office, to be no true man; and, for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, why, the more is for your honesty.
050 Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him?
Dog. Truly, by your office, you may; but I think they that touch pitch will be defiled: the most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is to let him show himself 055 what he is, and steal out of your company.
Verg. You have been always called a merciful man, partner.
Dog. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him.
060 Verg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse and bid her still it.
Watch. How if the nurse be asleep and will not hear us?
Dog. Why, then, depart in peace, and let the child wake 065 her with crying; for the ewe that will not hear her lamb 066 when it baes will never answer a calf when he bleats.
Verg. ’Tis very true.
Dog. This is the end of the charge:—you, constable, are to present the prince’s own person: if you meet the 070 prince in the night, you may stay him.
071 Verg. Nay, by’r lady, that I think a’ cannot.
Dog. Five shillings to one on’t, with any man that 073 knows the statues, he may stay him: marry, not without the prince be willing; for, indeed, the watch ought to offend no 075 man; and it is an offence to stay a man against his will.
Verg. By’r lady, I think it be so.
Dog. Ha, ah, ha! Well, masters, good night: an there be any matter of weight chances, call up me: keep your 079 fellows’ counsels and your own; and good night. Come, 080 neighbour.
Watch. Well, masters, we hear our charge: let us go sit here upon the church-bench till two, and then all to bed.
Dog. One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you, 085 watch about Signior Leonato’s door; for the wedding being there to-morrow, there is a great coil to-night. Adieu: be 087 vigitant, I beseech you. [Exeunt Dogberry and Verges.
Bora. What, Conrade!
089 Watch. [Aside] Peace! stir not.
090 Bora. Conrade, I say!
Con. Here, man; I am at thy elbow.
Bora. Mass, and my elbow itched; I thought there would a scab follow.
Con. I will owe thee an answer for that: and now forward 095 with thy tale.
Bora. Stand thee close, then, under this pent-house, for it drizzles rain; and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee.
Watch. [Aside] Some treason, masters: yet stand close.
100 Bora. Therefore know I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats.
Con. Is it possible that any villany should be so dear?
Bora. Thou shouldst rather ask, if it were possible any 104 villany should be so rich; for when rich villains have need 105 of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will.
Con. I wonder at it.
Bora. That shows thou art unconfirmed. Thou knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man.
110 Con. Yes, it is apparel.
Bora. I mean, the fashion.
Con. Yes, the fashion is the fashion.
Bora. Tush! I may as well say the fool’s the fool. But seest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion is?
115 Watch. [Aside] I know that Deformed; a’ has been a 116 vile thief this seven year; a’ goes up and down like a gentleman: I remember his name.
Bora. Didst thou not hear somebody?
119 Con. No; ’twas the vane on the house.
120 Bora. Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is? how giddily a’ turns about all the hot bloods 122 between fourteen and five-and-thirty? sometimes fashioning 123 them like Pharaoh’s soldiers in the reeky painting, 124 sometime like god Bel’s priests in the old church-window, sometime 125 like the shaven Hercules in the smirched worm-eaten tapestry, where his codpiece seems as massy as his club?
127 Con. All this I see; and I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man. But art not thou thyself 129 giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of 130 thy tale into telling me of the fashion?
Bora. Not so, neither: but know that I have to-night wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero’s gentlewoman, by the name of Hero: she leans me out at her mistress’ chamber-window, bids me a thousand times good night,—I tell this 135 tale vilely:—I should first tell thee how the prince, Claudio and my master, planted and placed and possessed by my 137 master Don John, saw afar off in the orchard this amiable encounter.
139 Con. And thought they Margaret was Hero?
140 Bora. Two of them did, the prince and Claudio; but the devil my master knew she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which first possessed them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly by my villany, which did confirm any slander that Don John had made, 145 away went Claudio enraged; swore he would meet her, as he was appointed, next morning at the temple, and there, 147 before the whole congregation, shame her with what he saw o’er night, and send her home again without a husband.
149 First Watch. We charge you, in the prince’s name, 150 stand!
Sec. Watch. Call up the right master constable. We have here recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery 153 that ever was known in the commonwealth.
First Watch. And one Deformed is one of them: I 155 know him; a’ wears a lock.
Con. Masters, masters,—
Sec. Watch. You’ll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you.
159 Con. Masters,—?
160 First Watch. Never speak: we charge you let us obey you to go with us.
Bora. We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken up of these men’s bills.
Con. A commodity in question, I warrant you. Come, 165 we’ll obey you. [Exeunt.
Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and desire her to rise.
Urs. I will, lady.
Hero. And bid her come hither.
005 Urs. Well. [Exit.
006 Marg. Troth, I think your other rabato were better.
Hero. No, pray thee, good Meg, I’ll wear this.
008 Marg. By my troth’s not so good; and I warrant your cousin will say so.
010 Hero. My cousin’s a fool, and thou art another: I’ll wear none but this.
Marg. I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner; and your gown’s a most rare fashion, i’ faith. I saw the Duchess of Milan’s gown that 015 they praise so.
Hero. O, that exceeds, they say.
017 Marg. By my troth’s but a night-gown in respect of 018 yours,—cloth o’ gold, and cuts, and laced with silver, set 019 with pearls, down sleeves, side sleeves, and skirts, round 020 underborne with a bluish tinsel: but for a fine, quaint, graceful and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on’t.
Hero. God give me joy to wear it! for my heart is exceeding heavy.
Marg. ’Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man.
025 Hero. Fie upon thee! art not ashamed?
Marg. Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? Is not marriage honourable in a beggar? Is not your lord honourable without marriage? I think you would have me 029 say, ‘saving your reverence, a husband:’ an bad thinking do 030 not wrest true speaking, I’ll offend nobody: is there any harm in ‘the heavier for a husband’? None, I think, an it be the right husband and the right wife; otherwise ’tis light, and not heavy: ask my Lady Beatrice else; here she comes.
034 Hero. Good morrow, coz.
035 Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero.
Hero. Why, how now? do you speak in the sick tune?
Beat. I am out of all other tune, methinks.
038 Marg. Clap’s into ‘Light o’ love;’ that goes without a burden: do you sing it, and I’ll dance it.
040 Beat. Ye light o’ love, with your heels! then, if your 041 husband have stables enough, you’ll see he shall lack no barns.
Marg. O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels.
045 Beat. ’Tis almost five o’clock, cousin; ’tis time you were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill: heigh-ho!
Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband?
Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H.
Marg. Well, an you be not turned Turk, there’s no 050 more sailing by the star.
Beat. What means the fool, trow?
Marg. Nothing I; but God send every one their heart’s desire!
Hero. These gloves the count sent me; they are an 055 excellent perfume.
Beat. I am stuffed, cousin; I cannot smell.
057 Marg. A maid, and stuffed! there’s goodly catching of cold.
Beat. O, God help me! God help me! how long have 060 you professed apprehension?
Marg. Even since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely?
Beat. It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap. By my troth, I am sick.
065 Marg. Get you some of this distilled Carduus Benedictus, and lay it to your heart: it is the only thing for a qualm.
Hero. There thou prickest her with a thistle.
Beat. Benedictus! why Benedictus? you have some 070 moral in this Benedictus.
Marg. Moral! no, by my troth, I have no moral meaning; I meant, plain holy-thistle. You may think perchance that I think you are in love: nay, by’r lady, I am not such a fool to think what I list; nor I list not to think what I 075 can; nor, indeed, I cannot think, if I would think my heart 076 out of thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love. Yet Benedick was such another, and now is he become a man: he swore he would 079 never marry; and yet now, in despite of his heart, he eats 080 his meat without grudging: and how you may be converted, I know not; but methinks you look with your eyes as other women do.
083 Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keeps?
Marg. Not a false gallop.
085 Urs. Madam, withdraw: the prince, the count, Signior Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of the town, are come to fetch you to church.
Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula. [Exeunt.
Leon. What would you with me, honest neighbour?
Dog. Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you that decerns you nearly.
004 Leon. Brief, I pray you; for you see it is a busy time 005 with me.
Dog. Marry, this it is, sir.
Verg. Yes, in truth it is, sir.
Leon. What is it, my good friends?
009 Dog. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the matter: 010 an old man, sir, and his wits are not so blunt as, God 011 help, I would desire they were; but, in faith, honest as the skin between his brows.
Verg. Yes, I thank God I am as honest as any man living that is an old man and no honester than I.
015 Dog. Comparisons are odorous: palabras, neighbour Verges.
Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious.
Dog. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor duke’s officers; but truly, for mine own part, if I were 020 as tedious as a king, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship.
Leon. All thy tediousness on me, ah?
023 Dog. Yea, an ’twere a thousand pound more than ’tis; for I hear as good exclamation on your worship as of any 025 man in the city; and though I be but a poor man, I am glad to hear it.
Verg. And so am I.
Leon. I would fain know what you have to say.
Verg. Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting your 030 worship’s presence, ha’ ta’en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina.
Dog. A good old man, sir; he will be talking: as they say, When the age is in, the wit is out: God help us! it is a world to see. Well said, i’ faith, neighbour Verges: well, 035 God’s a good man; an two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind. An honest soul, i’ faith, sir; by my troth he is, as ever broke bread; but God is to be worshipped; all men are not alike; alas, good neighbour!
Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you.
040 Dog. Gifts that God gives.
Leon. I must leave you.
042 Dog. One word, sir: our watch, sir, have indeed comprehended 043 two aspicious persons, and we would have them this morning examined before your worship.
045 Leon. Take their examination yourself, and bring it 046 me: I am now in great haste, as it may appear unto you.
047 Dog. It shall be suffigance.
048 Leon. Drink some wine ere you go: fare you well.
Mess. My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter 050 to her husband.
051 Leon. I’ll wait upon them: I am ready. [Exeunt Leonato and Messenger.
Dog. Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis Seacole; bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the gaol: we are now 054 to examination these men.
055 Verg. And we must do it wisely.
056 Dog. We will spare for no wit, I warrant you; here’s 057 that shall drive some of them to a noncome: only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication, and meet me at the gaol. [Exeunt.
Leon. Come, Friar Francis, be brief; only to the plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties afterwards.
004 Friar. You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady.
005 Claud. No.
006 Leon. To be married to her: friar, you come to marry her.
Friar. Lady, you come hither to be married to this 009 count.
010 Hero. I do.
Friar. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoined, I charge you, on your souls, to utter it.
Claud. Know you any, Hero?
015 Hero. None, my lord.
Friar. Know you any, count?
Leon. I dare make his answer, none.
Claud. O, what men dare do! what men may do! what 019 men daily do, not knowing what they do!
020 Bene. How now! interjections? Why, then, some be of laughing, as, ah, ha, he!
Claud. Stand thee by, Friar. Father, by your leave:
Will you with free and unconstrained soul
Give me this maid, your daughter?
025 Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her me.
Claud. And what have I to give you back, whose worth
May counterpoise this rich and precious gift?
D. Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again.
Claud. Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankfulness.
030 There, Leonato, take her back again:
Give not this rotten orange to your friend;
She’s but the sign and semblance of her honour.
Behold how like a maid she blushes here!
O, what authority and show of truth
035 Can cunning sin cover itself withal!
Comes not that blood as modest evidence
To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear,
All you that see her, that she were a maid,
By these exterior shows? But she is none:
040 She knows the heat of a luxurious bed;
Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty.
042 Leon. What do you mean, my lord?
Not to be married,
043 Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton.
044 Leon. Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof,
045 Have vanquish’d the resistance of her youth,
And made defeat of her virginity,—
Claud. I know what you would say: if I have known her,
048 You will say she did embrace me as a husband,
And so extenuate the ’forehand sin:
050 No, Leonato,
I never tempted her with word too large;
But, as a brother to his sister, show’d
Bashful sincerity and comely love.
Hero. And seem’d I ever otherwise to you?
055 Claud. Out on thee! Seeming! I will write against it:
056 You seem to me as Dian in her orb,
As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown;
But you are more intemperate in your blood
Than Venus, or those pamper’d animals
060 That rage in savage sensuality.
061 Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide?
062 Leon. Sweet prince, why speak not you?
What should I speak?
I stand dishonour’d, that have gone about
To link my dear friend to a common stale.
065 Leon. Are these things spoken, or do I but dream?
D. John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true.
Bene. This looks not like a nuptial.
True! O God!
Claud. Leonato, stand I here?
Is this the prince? is this the prince’s brother?
070 Is this face Hero’s? are our eyes our own?
Leon. All this is so: but what of this, my lord?
Claud. Let me but move one question to your daughter;
And, by that fatherly and kindly power
That you have in her, bid her answer truly.
075 Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child.
Hero. O, God defend me! how am I beset!
What kind of catechising call you this?
078 Claud. To make you answer truly to your name.
Hero. Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name
With any just reproach?
080 Marry, that can Hero;
081 Hero itself can blot out Hero’s virtue.
What man was he talk’d with you yesternight
Out at your window betwixt twelve and one?
Now, if you are a maid, answer to this.
085 Hero. I talk’d with no man at that hour, my lord.
086 D. Pedro. Why, then are you no maiden. Leonato,
I am sorry you must hear: upon mine honour,
Myself, my brother, and this grieved count
Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night
090 Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window;
091 Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain,
Confess’d the vile encounters they have had
A thousand times in secret.
094 D. John. Fie, fie! they are not to be named, my lord,
095 Not to be spoke of;
There is not chastity enough in language,
097 Without offence to utter them. Thus, pretty lady,
I am sorry for thy much misgovernment.
Claud. O Hero, what a Hero hadst thou been,
100 If half thy outward graces had been placed
101 About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart!
But fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell,
Thou pure impiety and impious purity!
For thee I’ll lock up all the gates of love,
105 And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang,
To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm,
And never shall it more be gracious.
108 Leon. Hath no man’s dagger here a point for me? [Hero swoons.
Beat. Why, how now, cousin! wherefore sink you down?
D. John. Come, let us go. These things, come thus to 110 light,
111 Smother her spirits up. [Exeunt Don Pedro, Don John, and Claudio.
112 Bene. How doth the lady?
Dead, I think. Help, uncle!
Hero! why, Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar!
Leon. O Fate! take not away thy heavy hand.
115 Death is the fairest cover for her shame
That may be wish’d for.
How now, cousin Hero!
Friar. Have comfort, lady.
118 Leon. Dost thou look up?
Friar. Yea, wherefore should she not?
120 Leon. Wherefore! Why, doth not every earthly thing
Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny
The story that is printed in her blood?
Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes:
For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die,
125 Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames,
126 Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches,
Strike at thy life. Grieved I, I had but one?
128 Chid I for that at frugal nature’s frame?
129 O, one too much by thee! Why had I one?
130 Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes?
131 Why had I not with charitable hand
Took up a beggar’s issue at my gates,
133 Who smirched thus and mired with infamy,
I might have said, ‘No part of it is mine;
135 This shame derives itself from unknown loins’?
136 But mine, and mine I loved, and mine I praised,
And mine that I was proud on, mine so much
That I myself was to myself not mine,
Valuing of her,—why, she, O, she is fallen
140 Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea
Hath drops too few to wash her clean again,
And salt too little which may season give
143 To her foul-tainted flesh!
Sir, sir, be patient.
For my part, I am so attired in wonder,
145 I know not what to say.
Beat. O, on my soul, my cousin is belied!
Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night?
Beat. No, truly, not; although, until last night,
I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow.
150 Leon. Confirm’d, confirm’d! O, that is stronger made
Which was before barr’d up with ribs of iron!
152 Would the two princes lie, and Claudio lie,
Who loved her so, that, speaking of her foulness,
Wash’d it with tears? Hence from her! let her die.
155 Friar. Hear me a little;
156 For I have only been silent so long,
157 And given way unto this course of fortune,
By noting of the lady: I have mark’d
159 A thousand blushing apparitions
160 To start into her face; a thousand innocent shames
161 In angel whiteness beat away those blushes;
And in her eye there hath appear’d a fire,
To burn the errors that these princes hold
Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool;
165 Trust not my reading nor my observations,
Which with experimental seal doth warrant
167 The tenour of my book; trust not my age,
168 My reverence, calling, nor divinity,
If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here
Under some biting error.
170 Friar, it cannot be.
Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left
Is that she will not add to her damnation
A sin of perjury; she not denies it:
Why seek’st thou, then, to cover with excuse
175 That which appears in proper nakedness?
Friar. Lady, what man is he you are accused of?
Hero. They know that do accuse me; I know none:
If I know more of any man alive
Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant,
180 Let all my sins lack mercy! O my father,
Prove you that any man with me conversed
At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight
Maintain’d the change of words with any creature,
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death!
185 Friar. There is some strange misprision in the princes.
186 Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honour;
And if their wisdoms be misled in this,
188 The practice of it lives in John the bastard,
189 Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies.
190 Leon. I know not. If they speak but truth of her,
These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour,
192 The proudest of them shall well hear of it.
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine,
Nor age so eat up my invention,
195 Nor fortune made such havoc of my means,
Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends,
197 But they shall find, awaked in such a kind,
Both strength of limb and policy of mind,
Ability in means and choice of friends,
To quit me of them throughly.
200 Pause awhile,
And let my counsel sway you in this case.
202 Your daughter here the princes left for dead:
Let her awhile be secretly kept in,
And publish it that she is dead indeed;
205 Maintain a mourning ostentation,
And on your family’s old monument
Hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites
That appertain unto a burial.
Leon. What shall become of this? what will this do?
210 Friar. Marry, this, well carried, shall on her behalf
Change slander to remorse; that is some good:
But not for that dream I on this strange course,
But on this travail look for greater birth.
She dying, as it must be so maintain’d,
215 Upon the instant that she was accused,
Shall be lamented, pitied, and excused
217 Of every hearer: for it so falls out,
That what we have we prize not to the worth
219 Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack’d and lost,
220 Why, then we rack the value, then we find
The virtue that possession would not show us
222 Whiles it was ours. So will it fare with Claudio:
When he shall hear she died upon his words,
224 The idea of her life shall sweetly creep
225 Into his study of imagination;
And every lovely organ of her life
Shall come apparell’d in more precious habit,
228 More moving-delicate and full of life,
Into the eye and prospect of his soul,
230 Than when she lived indeed; then shall he mourn,
If ever love had interest in his liver,
And wish he had not so accused her,
No, though he thought his accusation true.
Let this be so, and doubt not but success
235 Will fashion the event in better shape
Than I can lay it down in likelihood.
But if all aim but this be levell’d false,
The supposition of the lady’s death
Will quench the wonder of her infamy:
240 And if it sort not well, you may conceal her,
As best befits her wounded reputation,
In some reclusive and religious life,
Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries.
Bene. Signior Leonato, let the Friar advise you:
245 And though you know my inwardness and love
Is very much unto the prince and Claudio,
Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this
As secretly and justly as your soul
Should with your body.
249 Being that I flow in grief,
250 The smallest twine may lead me.
Friar. ’Tis well consented: presently away;
For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure.
Come, lady, die to live: this wedding-day
254 Perhaps is but prolong’d: have patience and endure. [Exeunt all but Benedick and Beatrice.
255 Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?
Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer.
Bene. I will not desire that.
Beat. You have no reason; I do it freely.
Bene. Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged.
260 Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her!
Bene. Is there any way to show such friendship?
Beat. A very even way, but no such friend.
Bene. May a man do it?
265 Beat. It is a man’s office, but not yours.
Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is not that strange?
Beat. As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as you: but 270 believe me not; and yet I lie not; I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin.
Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me.
273 Beat. Do not swear, and eat it.
Bene. I will swear by it that you love me; and I will 275 make him eat it that says I love not you.
Beat. Will you not eat your word?
Bene. With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest I love thee.
Beat. Why, then, God forgive me!
280 Bene. What offence, sweet Beatrice?
Beat. You have stayed me in a happy hour: I was about to protest I loved you.
Bene. And do it with all thy heart.
Beat. I love you with so much of my heart, that none 285 is left to protest.
Bene. Come, bid me do any thing for thee.
Beat. Kill Claudio.
Bene. Ha! not for the wide world.
289 Beat. You kill me to deny it. Farewell.
290 Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice.
Beat. I am gone, though I am here: there is no love in you: nay, I pray you, let me go.
Bene. Beatrice,—
Beat. In faith, I will go.
295 Bene. We’ll be friends first.
Beat. You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy.
Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy?
299 Beat. Is he not approved in the height a villain, that 300 hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O that I were a man! What, bear her in hand until they come to take hands; and then, with public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour,—O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place.
305 Bene. Hear me, Beatrice,—
Beat. Talk with a man out at a window! A proper saying!
Bene. Nay, but, Beatrice,—
Beat. Sweet Hero! She is wronged, she is slandered, 310 she is undone.
311 Bene. Beat—
312 Beat. Princes and counties! Surely, a princely testimony, 313 a goodly count, Count Comfect; a sweet gallant, surely! O that I were a man for his sake! or that I had 315 any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is 316 melted into courtesies, valour into compliment, and men 317 are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules that only tells a lie, and swears it. I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a 320 woman with grieving.
Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee.
Beat. Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it.
Bene. Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath 325 wronged Hero?
Beat. Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul.
Bene. Enough, I am engaged; I will challenge him. I 328 will kiss your hand, and so I leave you. By this hand, 329 Claudio shall render me a dear account. As you hear of 330 me, so think of me. Go, comfort your cousin: I must say she is dead: and so, farewell. [Exeunt.
001 Dog. Is our whole dissembly appeared?
002 Verg. O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton.
Sex. Which be the malefactors?
004 Dog. Marry, that am I and my partner.
005 Verg. Nay, that’s certain; we have the exhibition to examine.
Sex. But which are the offenders that are to be examined? let them come before master constable.
Dog. Yea, marry, let them come before me. What is 010 your name, friend?
Bora. Borachio.
Dog. Pray, write down, Borachio. Yours, sirrah?
Con. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade.
Dog. Write down, master gentleman Conrade. Masters, 015 do you serve God?
Con. Bora. 016 Yea, sir, we hope.
Dog. Write down, that they hope they serve God: and write God first; for God defend but God should go before such villains! Masters, it is proved already that you 020 are little better than false knaves; and it will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer you for yourselves?
Con. Marry, sir, we say we are none.
Dog. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you; but I will go about with him. Come you hither, sirrah; a word 025 in your ear: sir, I say to you, it is thought you are false knaves.
Bora. Sir, I say to you we are none.
Dog. Well, stand aside. ’Fore God, they are both in a tale. Have you writ down, that they are none?
030 Sex. Master constable, you go not the way to examine: 031 you must call forth the watch that are their accusers.
032 Dog. Yea, marry, that’s the eftest way. Let the watch come forth. Masters, I charge you, in the prince’s name, accuse these men.
035 First Watch. This man said, sir, that Don John, the prince’s brother, was a villain.
Dog. Write down, Prince John a villain. Why, this is flat perjury, to call a prince’s brother villain.
039 Bora. Master constable,—
040 Dog. Pray thee, fellow, peace: I do not like thy look, I promise thee.
Sex. What heard you him say else?
Sec. Watch. Marry, that he had received a thousand 044 ducats of Don John for accusing the Lady Hero 045 wrongfully.
Dog. Flat burglary as ever was committed.
047 Verg. Yea, by mass, that it is.
Sex. What else, fellow?
First Watch. And that Count Claudio did mean, upon 050 his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her.
Dog. O villain! thou wilt be condemned into everlasting redemption for this.
Sex. What else?
055 Watch. This is all.
Sex. And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stolen away; Hero was in this manner accused, in this very manner refused, and upon the grief of this suddenly died. Master Constable, let 060 these men be bound, and brought to Leonato’s: I will go before and show him their examination. [Exit.
Dog. Come, let them be opinioned.
063 Verg. Let them be in the hands—
Con. Off, coxcomb!
065 Dog. God’s my life, where’s the sexton? let him write 066 down, the prince’s officer, coxcomb. Come, bind them. Thou naughty varlet!
068 Con. Away! you are an ass, you are an ass.
Dog. Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not 070 suspect my years? O that he were here to write me down an ass! But, masters, remember that I am an ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass. No, thou villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness. I am a wise fellow; and, which 075 is more, an officer; and, which is more, a householder; and, 076 which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in Messina; and one that knows the law, go to; and a rich fellow enough, 078 go to; and a fellow that hath had losses; and one that hath two gowns, and every thing handsome about him. Bring 080 him away. O that I had been writ down an ass! [Exeunt.
Ant. If you go on thus, you will kill yourself;
And ’tis not wisdom thus to second grief
Against yourself.
I pray thee, cease thy counsel,
Which falls into mine ears as profitless
005 As water in a sieve: give not me counsel;
006 Nor let no comforter delight mine ear
007 But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine.
Bring me a father that so loved his child,
Whose joy of her is overwhelm’d like mine,
010 And bid him speak of patience;
Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine,
And let it answer every strain for strain,
As thus for thus, and such a grief for such,
In every lineament, branch, shape, and form:
015 If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard,
016 Bid sorrow wag, cry ‘hem!’ when he should groan,
Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk
018 With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me,
And I of him will gather patience.
020 But there is no such man: for, brother, men
021 Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief
Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it,
Their counsel turns to passion, which before
Would give preceptial medicine to rage,
025 Fetter strong madness in a silken thread,
Charm ache with air, and agony with words:
No, no; ’tis all men’s office to speak patience
To those that wring under the load of sorrow,
But no man’s virtue nor sufficiency,
030 To be so moral when he shall endure
The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel:
My griefs cry louder than advertisement.
Ant. Therein do men from children nothing differ.
Leon. I pray thee, peace. I will be flesh and blood;
035 For there was never yet philosopher
That could endure the toothache patiently,
However they have writ the style of gods,
038 And made a push at chance and sufferance.
Ant. Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself;
040 Make those that do offend you suffer too.
Leon. There thou speak’st reason: nay, I will do so.
My soul doth tell me Hero is belied;
And that shall Claudio know; so shall the prince,
And all of them that thus dishonour her.
045 Ant. Here comes the prince and Claudio hastily.
D. Pedro. Good den, good den.
Good day to both of you.
Leon. Hear you, my lords,—
We have some haste, Leonato.
Leon. Some haste, my lord! well, fare you well, my lord:
Are you so hasty now? well, all is one.
050 D. Pedro. Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man.
Ant. If he could right himself with quarrelling,
Some of us would lie low.
052 Who wrongs him?
053 Leon. Marry, thou dost wrong me; thou dissembler, thou:—
Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword:
I fear thee not.
055 Marry, beshrew my hand,
If it should give your age such cause of fear:
In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword.
Leon. Tush, tush, man; never fleer and jest at me:
I speak not like a dotard nor a fool,
060 As, under privilege of age, to brag
What I have done being young, or what would do,
Were I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head,
063 Thou hast so wrong’d mine innocent child and me,
That I am forced to lay my reverence by,
065 And, with grey hairs and bruise of many days,
Do challenge thee to trial of a man.
067 I say thou hast belied mine innocent child;
Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart,
And she lies buried with her ancestors;
070 O, in a tomb where never scandal slept,
Save this of hers, framed by thy villany!
Claud. My villany?
Thine, Claudio; thine, I say.
D. Pedro. You say not right, old man.
My lord, my lord,
I’ll prove it on his body, if he dare,
075 Despite his nice fence and his active practice,
His May of youth and bloom of lustihood.
Claud. Away! I will not have to do with you.
078 Leon. Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast kill’d my child:
If thou kill’st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man.
080 Ant. He shall kill two of us, and men indeed:
But that’s no matter; let him kill one first;
Win me and wear me; let him answer me.
083 Come, follow me, boy; come, sir boy, come, follow me:
Sir boy, I’ll whip you from your foining fence;
085 Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will.
Leon. Brother,—
Ant. Content yourself. God knows I loved my niece;
And she is dead, slander’d to death by villains,
That dare as well answer a man indeed
090 As I dare take a serpent by the tongue:
091 Boys, apes, braggarts, Jacks, milksops!
Brother Antony,—
Ant. Hold you content. What, man! I know them, yea,
And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple,—
094 Scambling, out-facing, fashion-monging boys,
095 That lie, and cog, and flout, deprave, and slander,
096 Go antiquely, and show outward hideousness,
097 And speak off half a dozen dangerous words,
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst;
And this is all.
Leon. But, brother Antony,—
100 Come, ’tis no matter:
Do not you meddle; let me deal in this.
102 D. Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience.
My heart is sorry for your daughter’s death:
But, on my honour, she was charged with nothing
105 But what was true, and very full of proof.
106 Leon. My lord, my lord,—
107 D. Pedro. I will not hear you.
108 Leon. No? Come, brother; away! I will be heard.
109 Ant. And shall, or some of us will smart for it. [Exeunt Leonato and Antonio.
110 D. Pedro. See, see; here comes the man we went to seek.
Claud. Now, signior, what news?
Bene. Good day, my lord.
D. Pedro. Welcome, signior: you are almost come to 114 part almost a fray.
115 Claud. We had like to have had our two noses snapped off with two old men without teeth.
D. Pedro. Leonato and his brother. What thinkest thou? Had we fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them.
120 Bene. In a false quarrel there is no true valour. I came to seek you both.
Claud. We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high-proof melancholy, and would fain have it beaten away. Wilt thou use thy wit?
125 Bene. It is in my scabbard: shall I draw it?
D. Pedro. Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side?
Claud. Never any did so, though very many have been beside their wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels; draw, to pleasure us.
130 D. Pedro. As I am an honest man, he looks pale. Art thou sick, or angry?
Claud. What, courage, man! What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.
Bene. Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, an you 135 charge it against me. I pray you choose another subject.
Claud. Nay, then, give him another staff: this last was broke cross.
D. Pedro. By this light, he changes more and more: I think he be angry indeed.
140 Claud. If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle.
Bene. Shall I speak a word in your ear?
Claud. God bless me from a challenge!
Bene. [Aside to Claudio] 143 You are a villain; I jest not: I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and 145 when you dare. Do me right, or I will protest your cowardice. You have killed a sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you.
Claud. Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer.
149 D. Pedro. What, a feast, a feast?
150 Claud. I’ faith, I thank him; he hath bid me to a calf’s-head 151 and a capon; the which if I do not carve most curiously, say my knife’s naught. Shall I not find a woodcock too?
Bene. Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily.
155 D. Pedro. I’ll tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit 156 the other day. I said, thou hadst a fine wit: ‘True,’ said 157 she, ‘a fine little one.’ ‘No,’ said I, ‘a great wit:’ ‘Right,’ 158 says she, ‘a great gross one.’ ‘Nay,’ said I, ‘a good wit:’ 159 ‘Just,’ said she, ‘it hurts nobody.’ ‘Nay,’ said I, ‘the 160 gentleman is wise:’ ‘Certain,’ said she, ‘a wise gentleman.’ ‘Nay,’ said I, ‘he hath the tongues:’ ‘That I believe,’ said she, ‘for he swore a thing to me on Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning; there’s a 164 double tongue; there’s two tongues.’ Thus did she, an hour 165 together, trans-shape thy particular virtues: yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the properest man in Italy.
Claud. For the which she wept heartily, and said she cared not.
169 D. Pedro. Yea, that she did; but yet, for all that, an 170 if she did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly: the old man’s daughter told us all.
172 Claud. All, all; and, moreover, God saw him when he was hid in the garden.
174 D. Pedro. But when shall we set the savage bull’s 175 horns on the sensible Benedick’s head?
Claud. Yea, and text underneath, ‘Here dwells Benedick the married man’?
Bene. Fare you well, boy: you know my mind. I will leave you now to your gossip-like humour: you break 180 jests as braggarts do their blades, which, God be thanked, hurt not. My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you: I must discontinue your company: your brother the bastard is fled from Messina: you have among you killed a sweet 184 and innocent lady. For my Lord Lackbeard there, he and 185 I shall meet: and till then peace be with him. [Exit.
D. Pedro. He is in earnest.
Claud. In most profound earnest; and, I’ll warrant you, for the love of Beatrice.
189 D. Pedro. And hath challenged thee.
190 Claud. Most sincerely.
D. Pedro. What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit!
193 Claud. He is then a giant to an ape: but then is an ape a doctor to such a man.
195 D. Pedro. But, soft you, let me be: pluck up, my heart, and be sad. Did he not say, my brother was fled?
197 Dog. Come, you, sir: if justice cannot tame you, she 198 shall ne’er weigh more reasons in her balance: nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be looked to.
200 D. Pedro. How now? two of my brother’s men bound! Borachio one!
Claud. Hearken after their offence, my lord.
D. Pedro. Officers, what offence have these men done?
Dog. Marry, sir, they have committed false report; 205 moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust things; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves.
D. Pedro. First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, 210 I ask thee what’s their offence; sixth and lastly, why 211 they are committed; and, to conclude, what you lay to their charge.
Claud. Rightly reasoned, and in his own division; and, by my troth, there’s one meaning well suited.
215 D. Pedro. Who have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? this learned constable is too cunning to be understood: what’s your offence?
Bora. Sweet prince, let me go no farther to mine answer: do you hear me, and let this count kill me. I have 220 deceived even your very eyes: what your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light; 222 who, in the night, overheard me confessing to this man, how Don John your brother incensed me to slander the Lady Hero; how you were brought into the orchard, and 225 saw me court Margaret in Hero’s garments: how you disgraced her, when you should marry her: my villany they have upon record; which I had rather seal with my death than repeat over to my shame. The lady is dead upon mine and my master’s false accusation; and, briefly, I desire 230 nothing but the reward of a villain.
D. Pedro. Runs not this speech like iron through your blood?
232 Claud. I have drunk poison whiles he utter’d it.
D. Pedro. But did my brother set thee on to this?
234 Bora. Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it.
235 D. Pedro. He is composed and framed of treachery: And fled he is upon this villany.
Claud. Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear In the rare semblance that I loved it first.
Dog. Come, bring away the plaintiffs: by this time our 240 sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter: and, masters, do not forget to specify, when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass.
Verg. Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the sexton too.
245 Leon. Which is the villain? let me see his eyes,
That, when I note another man like him,
I may avoid him: which of these is he?
Bora. If you would know your wronger, look on me.
249 Leon. Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast kill’d
Mine innocent child?
250 Yea, even I alone.
Leon. No, not so, villain; thou beliest thyself:
Here stand a pair of honourable men;
A third is fled, that had a hand in it.
I thank you, princes, for my daughter’s death:
255 Record it with your high and worthy deeds:
’Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.
Claud. I know not how to pray your patience;
Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself;
259 Impose me to what penance your invention
260 Can lay upon my sin: yet sinn’d I not
But in mistaking.
D. Pedro. By my soul, nor I:
And yet, to satisfy this good old man,
I would bend under any heavy weight
264 That he’ll enjoin me to.
265 Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter live;
That were impossible: but, I pray you both,
Possess the people in Messina here
How innocent she died; and if your love
Can labour ought in sad invention,
270 Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb,
And sing it to her bones, sing it to-night:
To-morrow morning come you to my house;
And since you could not be my son-in-law,
Be yet my nephew: my brother hath a daughter,
275 Almost the copy of my child that’s dead,
And she alone is heir to both of us:
Give her the right you should have given her cousin,
And so dies my revenge.
O noble sir,
Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me!
280 I do embrace your offer; and dispose
For henceforth of poor Claudio.
Leon. To-morrow, then, I will expect your coming;
To-night I take my leave. This naughty man
Shall face to face be brought to Margaret,
285 Who I believe was pack’d in all this wrong,
Hired to it by your brother.
No, by my soul, she was not;
Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me;
But always hath been just and virtuous
In any thing that I do know by her.
290 Dog. Moreover, sir, which indeed is not under white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass: I beseech you, let it be remembered in his punishment. And also, the watch heard them talk of one Deformed: they say he wears a key in his ear, and a lock 295 hanging by it; and borrows money in God’s name, the which he hath used so long and never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for God’s sake: pray you, examine him upon that point.
Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest pains.
300 Dog. Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend youth; and I praise God for you.
Leon. There’s for thy pains.
Dog. God save the foundation!
Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank 305 thee.
306 Dog. I leave an arrant knave with your worship; which I beseech your worship to correct yourself, for the example of others. God keep your worship! I wish your worship well; God restore you to health! I humbly give you leave 310 to depart; and if a merry meeting may be wished, God 311 prohibit it! Come, neighbour. [Exeunt Dogberry and Verges.
Leon. Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell.
Ant. Farewell, my lords: we look for you to-morrow.
D. Pedro. We will not fail.
To-night I’ll mourn with Hero.
Leon. [To the Watch] Bring you these fellows on.
315 We’ll talk with Margaret,
How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow. [Exeunt, severally.
Bene. Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands by helping me to the speech of Beatrice.
Marg. Will you, then, write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty?
005 Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou deservest it.
008 Marg. To have no man come over me! why, shall I 009 always keep below stairs?
010 Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound’s mouth; it catches.
Marg. And yours as blunt as the fencer’s foils, which hit, but hurt not.
Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret; it will not hurt a 015 woman: and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice: I give thee the bucklers.
Marg. Give us the swords; we have bucklers of our own.
Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice; and they are dangerous weapons for maids.
020 Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs.
Bene. And therefore will come. [Exit Margaret.
023 The god of love,
That sits above,
025 And knows me, and knows me,
How pitiful I deserve,—
I mean in singing; but in loving, Leander the good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of panders, and a whole 029 bookful of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names 030 yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse, why, 031 they were never so truly turned over and over as my poor 032 self in love. Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme; I have 033 tried: I can find out no rhyme to ‘lady’ but ‘baby,’ an 034 innocent rhyme; for ‘scorn,’ ‘horn,’ a hard rhyme; for 035 ‘school,’ ‘fool,’ a babbling rhyme; very ominous endings: 036 no, I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot 037 woo in festival terms.
038 Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee?
Beat. Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me.
040 Bene. O, stay but till then!
Beat. ‘Then’ is spoken; fare you well now: and yet, 042 ere I go, let me go with that I came; which is, with knowing what hath passed between you and Claudio.
Bene. Only foul words; and thereupon I will kiss thee.
045 Beat. Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkissed.
048 Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so forcible is thy wit. But I must tell thee plainly, 050 Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a coward. And, I pray thee now, tell me for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?
054 Beat. For them all together; which maintained so politic 055 a state of evil, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them. But for which of my good parts 057 did you first suffer love for me?
Bene. Suffer love,—a good epithet! I do suffer love indeed, for I love thee against my will.
060 Beat. In spite of your heart, I think; alas, poor heart! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours; for I will never love that which my friend hates.
Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.
064 Beat. It appears not in this confession: there’s not one 065 wise man among twenty that will praise himself.
Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived in the time of good neighbours. If a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in 069 monument than the bell rings and the widow weeps.
070 Beat. And how long is that, think you?
071 Bene. Question: why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter 072 in rheum: therefore is it most expedient for the wise, if Don Worm, his conscience, find no impediment to the contrary, 074 to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself. So 075 much for praising myself, who, I myself will bear witness, is praiseworthy: and now tell me, how doth your cousin?
Beat. Very ill.
Bene. And how do you?
Beat. Very ill too.
080 Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend. There will I 081 leave you too, for here comes one in haste.
Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle. Yonder’s old coil at home: it is proved my Lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the prince and Claudio mightily abused; 085 and Don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone. Will you come presently?
Beat. Will you go hear this news, signior?
088 Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes; and moreover I will go with thee to 090 thy uncle’s. [Exeunt.
Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato?
002 A Lord. It is, my lord.
Claud.[Reading out of a scroll]
003 Done to death by slanderous tongues
Was the Hero that here lies:
005 Death, in guerdon of her wrongs,
Gives her fame which never dies.
So the life that died with shame
Lives in death with glorious fame.
009 Hang thou there upon the tomb,
010 Praising her when I am dumb.
Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn.
Pardon, goddess of the night,
013 Those that slew thy virgin knight;
For the which, with songs of woe,
015 Round about her tomb they go.
Midnight, assist our moan;
Help us to sigh and groan,
Heavily, heavily:
Graves, yawn, and yield your dead,
020 Till death be uttered,
021 Heavily, heavily.
022 Claud. Now, unto thy bones good night!
023 Yearly will I do this rite.
D. Pedro. Good morrow, masters; put your torches out:
025 The wolves have prey’d; and look, the gentle day,
Before the wheels of Phœbus, round about
Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey.
Thanks to you all, and leave us: fare you well.
029 Claud. Good morrow, masters: each his several way.
030 D. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds;
And then to Leonato’s we will go.
032 Claud. And Hymen now with luckier issue speed’s
033 Than this for whom we render’d up this woe. [Exeunt.
Friar. Did I not tell you she was innocent?
Leon. So are the prince and Claudio, who accused her
Upon the error that you heard debated:
But Margaret was in some fault for this,
005 Although against her will, as it appears
In the true course of all the question.
007 Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well.
Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforced
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.
010 Leon. Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all,
Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves,
012 And when I send for you, come hither mask’d. [Exeunt Ladies.
The prince and Claudio promised by this hour
To visit me. You know your office, brother:
015 You must be father to your brother’s daughter,
And give her to young Claudio.
Ant. Which I will do with confirm’d countenance.
Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think.
Friar. To do what, signior?
020 Bene. To bind me, or undo me; one of them.
Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior,
Your niece regards me with an eye of favour.
023 Leon. That eye my daughter lent her: ’tis most true.
Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her.
025 Leon. The sight whereof I think you had from me,
From Claudio, and the prince: but what’s your will?
Bene. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical:
But, for my will, my will is, your good will
May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin’d
030 In the state of honourable marriage:
031 In which, good friar, I shall desire your help.
Leon. My heart is with your liking.
And my help.
033 Here comes the prince and Claudio.
034 D. Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assembly.
035 Leon. Good morrow, prince; good morrow, Claudio:
We here attend you. Are you yet determin’d
To-day to marry with my brother’s daughter?
Claud. I’ll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope.
Leon. Call her forth, brother; here’s the friar ready. [Exit Antonio.
D. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what’s the 040 matter,
That you have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness?
Claud. I think he thinks upon the savage bull.
Tush, fear not, man; we’ll tip thy horns with gold,
045 And all Europa shall rejoice at thee;
As once Europa did at lusty Jove,
When he would play the noble beast in love.
Bene. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low;
And some such strange bull leap’d your father’s cow,
050 And got a calf in that same noble feat
Much like to you, for you have just his bleat.
052 Claud. For this I owe you: here comes other reckonings.
Which is the lady I must seize upon?
054 Ant. This same is she, and I do give you her.
Claud. Why, then she’s mine. Sweet, let me see your 055 face.
Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take her hand
Before this friar, and swear to marry her.
058 Claud. Give me your hand: before this holy friar,
I am your husband, if you like of me.
060 Hero. And when I lived, I was your other wife: [Unmasking.
And when you loved, you were my other husband.
Claud. Another Hero!
Nothing certainer:
063 One Hero died defiled; but I do live,
And surely as I live, I am a maid.
065 D. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is dead!
Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived.
Friar. All this amazement can I qualify;
When after that the holy rites are ended,
069 I’ll tell you largely of fair Hero’s death:
070 Meantime let wonder seem familiar,
And to the chapel let us presently.
Bene. Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice?
Beat. [Unmasking] I answer to that name. What is your will?
Bene. Do not you love me?
074 Why, no; no more than reason.
075 Bene. Why, then your uncle, and the prince, and Claudio
076 Have been deceived; they swore you did.
Beat. Do not you love me?
077 Troth, no; no more than reason.
Beat. Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula
079 Are much deceived; for they did swear you did.
080 Bene. They swore that you were almost sick for me.
081 Beat. They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me.
082 Bene. ’Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me?
Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompense.
Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman.
085 Claud. And I’ll be sworn upon’t that he loves her;
For here’s a paper, written in his hand,
A halting sonnet of his own pure brain,
Fashion’d to Beatrice.
And here’s another,
Writ in my cousin’s hand, stolen from her pocket,
090 Containing her affection unto Benedick.
Bene. A miracle! here’s our own hands against our hearts. Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity.
094 Beat. I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I 095 yield upon great persuasion; and partly to save your life, 096 for I was told you were in a consumption.
097 Bene. Peace! I will stop your mouth. [Kissing her.
D. Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick, the married man?
099 Bene. I’ll tell thee what, prince; a college of wit-crackers 100 cannot flout me out of my humour. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram? No: if a man will be beaten 102 with brains, a’ shall wear nothing handsome about him. In 103 brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore 105 never flout at me for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion. For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin.
Claud. I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, 110 that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double-dealer; which, out of question, thou 112 wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee.
Bene. Come, come, we are friends: let’s have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts, 115 and our wives’ heels.
116 Leon. We’ll have dancing afterward.
117 Bene. First, of my word; therefore play, music. Prince, 118 thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife: there is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn.
120 Mess. My lord, your brother John is ta’en in flight,
And brought with armed men back to Messina.
122 Bene. Think not on him till to-morrow: I’ll devise thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, pipers. [Dance. [Exeunt.
Dramatis Personæ. Rowe and Pope included in the list of Dramatis Personæ, ‘Innogen, wife to Leonato.’ At the beginning of the first scene the Quarto and the Folios have, ‘Enter Leonato Governour of Messina, Innogen his wife, &c.’ and at the beginning of Act ii. Sc. i, ‘Enter Leonato, his brother, his wife, &c.’ But as no reference is made to such a character throughout the play, Theobald was doubtless right in striking the name out. The author probably, as Theobald observed, had designed such a character in his first sketch, and afterwards saw reason to omit it. It is impossible to conceive that Hero’s mother should have been present during the scenes in which the happiness and honour of her daughter were at issue, without taking a part, or being once referred to.
i. 1. 124. The punctuation which we have adopted seems to be the only one which will make sense of this passage without altering the text. We must suppose that, during the ‘skirmish of wit’ between Benedick and Beatrice, from line 96 to 123, Don Pedro and Leonato have been talking apart and making arrangements for the visit of the Prince and his friends, the one pressing his hospitable offers and the other, according to the manners of the time, making a show of reluctance to accept them.
i. 1. 182, 183. Johnson was not satisfied with his own conjecture, and supposed something to be omitted relating to Hero’s consent or to Claudio’s marriage; ‘something which Claudio and Pedro concur in wishing.’
i. 2. 1. We take this opportunity of reminding the reader that when no authority is given for the place of the scene, we generally follow the words of Capell. He, however, more frequently expands than alters the directions given by Pope. At the beginning of the next scene he puts, unnecessarily, ‘Another room in Leonato’s house.’ The stage was left vacant for an instant, but there is nothing to indicate a change of place.
ii. 1. 1. Mr Spedding, in The Gentleman’s Magazine, June 1850, proposed to rearrange the Acts thus:
| Act ii. | to begin at what is now | Act i. Sc. 2, |
| Act iii. | . . . . . . . . . . . . | Act ii. Sc. 3, |
| Act iv. | . . . . . . . . . . . . | Act iii. Sc. 4, |
Act v. remaining as it is.
We have not felt ourselves at liberty in such cases as this to desert the authority of the Folio.
ii. 1. Scene, a hall in Leonato’s house. It may be doubted whether the author did not intend this scene to take place in the garden rather than within doors. The banquet, of which Don John speaks, line 150, would naturally occupy the hall or great chamber. Don Pedro at the close of the scene says, ‘Go in with me, &c.’ If the dance, at line 135, were intended to be performed before the spectators, the stage might be supposed to represent a smooth lawn as well as the floor of a hall. On the other hand, the word ‘entering,’ at line 70, rather points to the scene as being within doors.
ii. 1. 67. The conjecture of the MS. corrector of Mr Collier’s Folio, which seems to have suggested itself independently to Capell (Notes, Vol. ii. p. 121), is supported by a passage in Marston’s Insatiate Countesse, Act ii. (Vol. iii. p. 125, ed. Halliwell):
‘Thinke of me as of the man
Whose dancing dayes you see are not yet done.
Len. Yet you sinke a pace, sir.’
ii. 1. 87. Mr Halliwell mentions that Mar. is altered to Mask. in the third Folio. This is not the case in Capell’s copy of it.
ii. 1. 218. In the copy before us of Theobald’s first edition, which belonged to Warburton, the latter has written ‘Mr Warburton’ after the note in which the reading ‘impassable,’ adopted by Theobald, is suggested and recommended, thus claiming it as his own. We have accepted his authority in this and other instances.
ii. 1. 237. bring you the length of Prester John’s foot: fetch you a hair off the great Cham’s beard. Though ‘of’ and ‘off’ are frequently interchanged in the old copies, yet, as in this place both Quarto and Folios are consistent in reading ‘of’ in the first clause and ‘off’ in the second, we follow them.
ii. 1. 284. The old copies here give us no help in determining whether Beatrice is meant to cry, ‘Heigh-ho for a husband,’ or merely, ‘Heigh-ho,’ and wish for a husband. Most editors seem by their punctuation to adopt the latter view. We follow Staunton in taking the former. It probably was the burden of a song. At all events it was so well-known as to be almost proverbial. It is again alluded to iii. 4. 48.
ii. 2. 39. The substitution of ‘Borachio’ for ‘Claudio’ does not relieve the difficulty here. Hero’s supposed offence would not be enhanced by calling one lover by the name of the other. The word ‘term,’ moreover, is not the one which would be used to signify the calling a person by his own proper name. It is not clearly explained how Margaret could, consistently with the ‘just and virtuous’ character which Borachio claims for her in the fifth act, lend herself to the villain’s plot. Perhaps the author meant that Borachio should persuade her to play, as children say, at being Hero and Claudio.
ii. 3. 27–30. wise, or I’ll none; virtuous, or I’ll never cheapen her; fair, or I’ll never look on her. Pope erroneously remarks, ‘these words added out of the edition of 1623.’ They are found in the Quarto, all the Folios, and Rowe. Warburton enhances the blunder by including the next clause also, ‘mild, or come not near me.’
ii. 3. 81. We have adhered to the old stage direction in this place, because it is not certain that any musicians accompanied Balthasar. The direction of the Quarto at line 38, ‘Enter Balthasar with musicke,’ may only mean that the singer had a lute with him. In the direction of the Folios, at line 33, only ‘Jacke Wilson’ is mentioned.
ii. 3. 225. Mr Halliwell says that we ought to change ‘dinner’ to ‘supper’ here and at line 235, in order to make the action consistent, as we find from line 34 that it is evening: ‘How still the evening is, &c.’ Such inaccuracies are characteristic of Shakespeare, and this cannot well have been due to the printer or copier.
iii. 3. 10. George Seacole. For ‘George’ Mr Halliwell reads ‘Francis.’ But ‘Francis Seacole,’ mentioned iii. 5. 52, is the sexton, and, as it would appear, town-clerk also, too high a functionary to be employed as a common watchman. If the same person had been intended, the error would have been analogous to that in the Merry Wives of Windsor, where Master Page is christened ‘Thomas’ in one place and ‘George’ in another.
iii. 3. 115, 116. Here Rowe, contrary to his custom, does not alter ‘a’ into ‘he.’ We do not in all cases notice these perpetually recurring variations.
iii. 3. 119. Mr Halliwell says that he has found ‘raine’ for ‘vaine’ in one copy of the first Folio.
iii. 4. 8, 17. The recurrence of this phrase makes it almost certain that the omission of ‘it’ is not a printer’s error, but an authentic instance of the omission of the third personal pronoun. So the first, or second, is omitted in iii. 4. 51; ‘What means the fool, trow?’ For other instances, see Sidney Walker’s Criticisms, Vol. i. p. 77 sqq. And compare note xi, Measure for Measure.
iii. 4. 29. say, ‘saving your reverence, a husband.’ The Quarto and Folios punctuate thus: say, saving your reverence a husband. Modern editions have say, saving your reverence, ‘a husband.’ But surely Margaret means that Hero was so prudish as to think that the mere mention of the word ‘husband’ required an apology.
iv. 1. 154–157. Hear me...mark’d. This commencement of the Friar’s speech comes at the bottom of page, sig. G. i. (r) of the Quarto. The type appears to have been accidentally dislocated, and the passage was then set up as prose. The Folio follows the Quarto except that it puts a full stop instead of a comma after ‘markt.’ Some words were probably lost in the operation, giving the Friar’s reason for remaining silent, viz. that he might find out the truth. The whole passage would therefore stand as follows:
Hear me a little; for I have only been
Silent so long and given way unto
This course of fortune . . . . .
By noting of the lady I have mark’d, &c.
The usual punctuation:
And given way unto this course of fortune,
By noting of the lady: I have mark’d, &c.
makes but indifferent sense.
‘I have only been silent’ may mean ‘I alone have been silent.’
iv. 2. 1. The Quarto and Folios agree, with slight differences of spelling, in the stage direction given in the note. The Town Clerk is clearly the same functionary as the Sexton mentioned in the second line.
The first speech is given in the Quarto and Folios to ‘Keeper’—a misprint for ‘Kemp’—the name of the famous actor who played Dogberry. All the other speeches of Dogberry throughout the scene, except two, are given to ‘Kemp,’ those of Verges to ‘Cowley’ or ‘Couley.’ Both Willam Kempt (i. e. Kempe or Kemp) and Richard Cowley are mentioned in the list of the ‘Principall Actors’ prefixed to the first Folio. The speech of Dogberry, line 4, is assigned to ‘Andrew,’ which is supposed to be a nickname of Kemp, who so often played the part of ‘Merry Andrew.’ That in lines 14, 15, is given in the Quarto to ‘Ke.’ and in the Folios to ‘Kee.’ or Keep.,’ a repetition of the error in line 1. The retention of these names in the successive printed copies, as well as that of ‘Jack Wilson’ in a former scene, shows the extreme carelessness with which the original MS. had been revised for the press in the first instance, and supplies a measure of the editorial care to which the several Folios were submitted. All that is known about these actors is collected in a volume edited by Mr Collier for the Shakespeare Society.
iv. 2. 63, 64. Verg. Let them be in the hands. Con. Off coxcomb! The reading of the Quarto is ‘Couley. Let them be in the hands of coxcombe.’ In the Folio, ‘Sex.’ is substituted for ‘Couley,’ without materially improving the sense. The first words may be a corruption of a stage direction [Let them bind them] or [Let them bind their hands].
v. 1. 143. We have introduced the words ‘[Aside to Claudio]’, because it appears from what Don Pedro says, line 149, ‘What, a feast, a feast?’ and, from the tone of his banter through the rest of the dialogue, that he had not overheard more than Claudio’s reply about ‘good cheer.’
v. 2. 1. Scene, Leonato’s garden. It is clear from line 83, where Ursula says, ‘Yonder’s old coil at home,’ that the scene is not supposed to take place in Leonato’s house, but out of doors. We have therefore, in this case, deserted our usual authorities, Pope and Capell.
v. 2. 42. The same construction, i.e. the non-repetition of the preposition, is found in Marston’s Fawne, Act i. Sc. 2: (Vol. ii. p. 24, ed. Halliwell), “With the same stratagem we still are caught.”
Scene i. Before L.’s house] Capell. A court before L.’s house. Pope.
Enter...] See note (i).
1, 8: Peter] Q Ff. Pedro Rowe.
8: numbers] number F4.
35: bird-bolt] Theobald. but-bolt Id. conj. burbolt Q Ff.
37: promised] promise F4.
39: be] om. F3 F4.
meet] met Capell.
40: these] Q F1. those F2 F3 F4.
41: Beat.] Mes. F2.
victual] Capell. vittaile Q. victuall F1 F2 F3. victuals F4.
eat] F3 F4. eate Q F2. ease F1.
42: he is] Q. he’s Ff.
50: stuffing,—well,] Theobald (Davenant’s version). stuffing well, Q Ff.
57: warm] from harm Warburton.
58: wealth] wearth Hanmer.
65, 161, 170 and passim. an] Theobald. and Q Ff. if Pope.
73: Benedick] Benedict Q F1.
74: a’] a Q1. he F1. it F2 F3 F4.
77: never] Q. ne’re Ff.
79: Enter ... Don John] Enter ... John the Bastard. Q Ff.
80: Scene ii. Pope.
80, 81: you are...trouble:] Ff. are you...trouble: Q. are you...trouble? Collier.
87: too] Q F1. more F2 F3 F4. most Rowe.
90: sir] Q. om. Ff.
92: we] you Rowe (ed. 2).
110: pernicious] pertinacious Grey conj.
116: were] om. Collier MS.
120: i’] Capell. a Q Ff. o’ Warburton.
124: That...all, Leonato.] That...all: Leonato, Q. This...all: Leonato, Ff. This...all: Don John, Hanmer. See note (ii).
126: tell him] Q F1 F2. tell you F3 F4.
131, 132: Q Ff place a comma after lord and a colon or semicolon after brother.
136: [Exeunt...] Exeunt. Manent ... Q. [Exeunt. Manet... Ff.
137: Scene iii. Pope.
143: their] her Capell conj.
144: pray thee] Q F1 prethee F2 F3 F4.
145: a high] a hie Q F1 F2. an high F3 F4.
154: into] in too Hanmer.
158, 159: ever I] I ever Pope.
162: with a] with such a Rowe (ed. 2).
167: this? In faith] Q Ff. this, in faith? Pope.
172: Re-enter Don Pedro.] Hanmer. Enter Don Pedro, John the bastard. Q Ff.
173: Scene iv. Pope.
174: Leonato’s] Rowe (ed. 2). Leonatoes Q F1 F2. Leonato F3 F4. Leonato’s house Pope.
177: can] cannot F4.
180: With who?] Q F1. With whom? F2 F3 F4.
181: his] the Collier MS.
182, 183: Claud. If ... were it. Bene. Uttered like the old tale ... Johnson conj. See note (iii).
193: spoke] Q. speake F1 F2. speak F3 F4.
205: recheat] rechate Q Ff.
219: hits] first hits Collier MS.
248: Scene v. Pope.
249: to teach] to use S. Walker conj.
267: I will] I’ll Pope.
267, 268: and with her father, And thou shalt have her] Q. Omitted in Ff. restored by Theobald.
269: story] string Lettsom conj.
270: you do] Q. do you Ff.
275: grant] plea Hanmer. ground Collier MS.
grant is] garant’s Anon. conj.
is] Q F1 F2. in F3 F4.
the] to Hayley conj.
282: the] a F4.
286: presently] instantly Capell conj. MS.
Scene ii.] Capell.
A room in L.’s house] Capell. See note (iv).
Enter...] Enter L. and an old man brother to L. Q Ff. Re-enter A. and L. Pope.
4: strange] Q. om. Ff.
6: event] F2 F3 F4 events Q F1.
8: mine orchard] Q. my orchard Ff.
9: thus much] Q. thus Ff.
12: he meant] Q F1 F2 F3. meant F4.
18: withal] Theobald. withall Q F1 F2. with all F3 F4.
19: an]Q F1. om. F2 F3 F4.
20: Enter attendants] Edd. Several cross the stage here. Theobald. Enter several persons, bearing things for the Banquet. Capell.
23: cousin] cousins Steevens.
Scene iii.] Capell. Scene vi. Pope.
1: good-year] good-yeere Q. good yeere F1 F2. good year F3 F4. good-jer Theobald. goujeres Hanmer. goujere Steevens.
4: breeds] breeds it. Theobald.
7: brings] Q. bringeth Ff.
8: at least] Q. yet Ff.
10: moral] morall Q F1. mortall F2 F3 F4.
16: the full] full S. Walker conj. who would print lines 16–21 as verses, ending this...controlement ... brother...grace...root...yourself...season...harvest.
17: of late] till of late Collier MS.
19: true] Q. om. Ff.
23: in his grace] by his grace Johnson conj. in his garden Id. conj. (withdrawn).
27: muzzle] mussell Q F1 F2 F3. muzzel F4.
33: I make] Q. I will make Ff.
36: came] come Capell conj.
47: on] Ff. one Q.
48: came] Q F1. come F2 F3 F4.
49: to this?] to know this? Johnson.
52: whipt me] Q. whipt Ff.
59: me?] Ff. me. Q.
Scene i. A hall...] Theobald. L.’s House. Pope. See note (vi).
Enter...] Enter L., his brother, his wife, Hero his daughter and Beatrice his niece and a kinsman. Q Ff. (and kinsman F3 F4). See note (i).
15: a’] Collier. a Q. he Ff.
26: the woollen] woollen Rowe (ed. 2).
27: on] Q. upon Ff.
34: bear-ward] Collier. Berrord Q F1 F2. Bearherd F3 F4.
35: hell?] Hanmer. hell. Q Ff. hell,—Theobald.
35–41: Put in the margin as spurious by Warburton.
37: horns] his horns F4.
40: Peter for the heavens;] Pope. Peter: for the heavens, Q Ff. Peter. for the heavens! Staunton.
44, 47: courtesy] cursie Q. curtsie Ff.
45: Father] Q. om. Ff.
47: please] Q F1. pleases F2 F3 F4.
52: an account] Q. account Ff.
53: wayward] cold wayward F3 F4.
54: my] om. F3 F4.
59: important] importunate Rowe (ed. 2).
61: hear] here Q.
62: as] om. Rowe.
65: ancientry] aunchentry Q F1 F2. anchentry F3 F4.
67: sink] sincke Q. sinkes F1 F2. sinks F3 F4. sink apace Collier MS. See note (v).
72: All...masks] L. and his company mask. Capell.
73: Scene ii. Pope.
Enter...masked.] Enter Prince, Pedro, Claudio, and Benedicke, and Balthasar, or dumb John. Q. Enter...John, Maskers with a drum. Ff.
82–85: Printed as two verses by Grant White.
83: Jove] Q. Love F1. love F2 F3 F4.
84, 85: Hero...thatch’d. D. Pedro...love] Hero...thatch’d. Speak...speak, Jove. Anon. conj.
85: D. Pedro] Marg. Heath conj. [Drawing her aside] Capell.
86, 89, 91: These lines are given to Benedick in Q Ff. Theobald gives them to Balthasar.
87: Marg.] Mas. F4. See note (viii.)
90: Marg.] Mask. F4.
91: [Turning off in quest of another. Capell.
96: [Parting different ways. Capell.
101: ill-well] Theobald. ill well Q Ff. ill Will Rowe. ill, well Pope.
106: mum,] mumme, Q Ff. mummer, Anon. conj.
107: [Mixing with the company. Capell.
110: not tell] Q F1. tell F2 F3 F4.
116: Beat.] om. F2.
121: impossible] impassible Warburton.
123: pleases] Q. pleaseth Ff.
131: [Music] Musick within. Theobald. [Musick begins: Dance forming. Capell.
135: [Dance......Claudio] Dance. Exeunt. Q. [Exeunt. Musicke for the dance. Ff. [Exeunt. Manent Don. J., B. and C. Warburton. [Dance: and exeunt D. Ped. and Leo. conversing...Capell.
136: Scene iii. Pope.
146: you] ye Theobald.
152: these] this F3 F4.
156: their] your Hanmer.
158: for] om. Pope.
161: therefore] then Pope.
167: county] Q. Count Ff.
of] Q F4. off F1 F2 F3.
168: an] a F4.
172: drovier] Q Ff. drover Rowe (ed. 2)
176: Ho! now] Ho now Q F1. Ho no! F2 F3. No no! F4.
179: fowl] foule Q. fowle F1. soule F2. soul F3 F4.
181: Ha?] F2 F3 F4. hah, Q. Hah? F1.
182: Yea] Q F1. you F2. yet F3 F4.
182, 3: so...wrong;] so; (but...wrong) Capell.
183: base,] bare Anon. conj.
184: though bitter] the bitter Steevens (Johnson conj.). tough, bitter Jackson conj. through-bitter Anon. conj.
world] word F3 F4.
187: Scene iv. Pope.
Re-enter Don Pedro.] Enter the Prince. Ff. Enter the Prince, Hero, Leonato, John and Borachio, and Conrade. Q.
191: I told] Q. told Ff.
192: good] Q. om. Ff.
this] his S. Walker conj.
194: up] Q. om. Ff.
198, 205: birds’] birds Q Ff. bird’s Rowe (ed. 2).
214: but with] with but Capell conj.
217: that] Q. and that Ff.
218: impossible] impassable Theobald (Warburton). See note (ix). impetuous Hanmer. importable Johnson conj. imposeable Becket conj. unportable Collier MS. impitiable Jackson.
222: her terminations] Q. terminations Ff. her minations S. Walker conj.
223: to the north] the north Warburton conj.
225: left] lent Collier MS.
228: the infernal] in the infernal F3 F4.
233: follows] follow Pope.
235: Scene v. Pope.
240: off] of Collier. See note (x).
242: You have] Have you Collier MS.
245: my Lady Tongue.] Q. this Lady Tongue F1. this lady’s tongue F2 F3 F4.
249: his] Q. a Ff.
263: civil count] civil, count Theobald.
264: that jealous] Q. a jealous Ff. as jealous a Collier MS.
266: I’ll] Q F1. I F2 F3 F4.
268, 269: and his...obtained:] Pope. and his...obtained, Q Ff. and, his...obtained, Collier.
284: her] Q. my Ff.
287: to] through Jackson conj.
world] wood Johnson conj.
288: heigh-ho for a husband!] See note (xi).
299: of] Ff. a Q. o’ Edd. conj.
302: was I] Q F1 F2. I was F3 F4.
308: Scene vi. Pope.
pleasant-spirited] Theobald. pleasant spirited Q Ff.
311: ever] even Anon. conj.
312: unhappiness] an happiness Theobald.
320: County] Countie Q. Counte F1. Count F2 F3 F4.
326: my] Q. om. Ff. our Collier MS.
331: mountain] mooting Johnson conj.
mountain of affection] mounting affection of Becket conj.
331, 332: the...the] th’...th’ Q Ff.
333: but] om. Pope.
350: in] om. F3 F4.
Scene ii.] Scene vii. Pope.
The same] Edd. Scene changes. Pope. Scene changes to another apartment in L.’s house. Theobald.
30: Don] Q. on Ff.
33: in love] Q. in a love Ff.
33–35: as,—in...maid,—that] Capell, (as in...match)...maid, that Q Ff.
36: scarcely] hardly Rowe.
39: Claudio] Borachio Pope, ed. 2 (Theobald). See note (xii).
41: so] om. F3 F4.
43: truth] Q. truths Ff. proofs Collier MS.
Hero’s] her Capell.
48: you] Q, Capell. thou Ff.
Scene iii.] Scene viii. Pope.
Enter Benedick.] Collier. Enter Benedick alone. Q Ff. Enter B. and a Boy. Rowe. Enter B. and a Boy following. Staunton.
1: Enter Boy.] Collier, om. Q Ff.
7: [Exit Boy.] Exit. Q. Ff (after line 5).
18: orthography] Ff. ortography Q. orthographer Rowe (ed. 2). orthographist Capell conj.
22: an] and Q.
27–30: See note (xiii).
29: I] Q. om. Ff.
33: Scene ix. Pope.
Enter......Leonato] Capell. Enter prince, Leonato, Claudio, Musicke. Q. Enter Prince, L., C. and Jacke Wilson. Ff.
38: kid-fox] cade fox Hanmer. hid fox Warburton.
Enter...Music] Q. om. Ff.
40: tax] task Capell conj.
41, 42: F1 repeats these lines in the turn of the page.
45–56: Put into the margin as spurious by Pope.
53: nothing] Q Ff. noting Theobald.
65: moe] Q F1. more F2 F3 F4.
66: Of] Or Collier MS.
67: fraud...was] Q. fraud...were Ff. frauds...were Pope.
68: leavy] leafy Pope.
72: no, no] ne no F4.
no, faith;] no; faith, Collier.
74: An] Capell. And Q Ff. If Pope.
76: lief] live Q.
79: us] om. Rowe.
night] om. Pope.
82: [Exit B.] Exeunt Bal. and Musick. Capell. See note (xiv).
93, 94: it,...affection;] it,...affection, Q Ff. it;...affection, Pope. it;...affection,— Capell.
94: infinite] definite Warburton.
100: this] Q F1. the F2 F3 F4.
102: tell you] tell Capell.
124: paper] paper full Collier MS.
126: us of] of us Q.
127: was] om. F3 F4.
128: over] ever F2.
sheet?] Capell. sheet. Q Ff. sheets. Collier MS.
133: for] om. Rowe.
136: prays, curses] prays, cries Collier MS. curses, prays Halliwell.
140: afeard] Q Ff. afraid Rowe.
144: make but] Q. but make Ff.
146: alms] alms-deed Collier MS.
156: daffed] Johnson. daft Q Ff. dofft Pope. dafft Theobald.
158: a’] a Q. he Ff.
166: contemptible] contemptuous Hanmer.
169: Before] Q. ’Fore Ff.
172: Claud.] Q. Leon. Ff.
174: say] Q. see Ff.
175: most] Q. om. Ff.
177–182: Leon. If he...make.] Put into the margin as spurious by Pope.
177: a’ must] a must Q Ff. he must Rowe.
183: seek] Q. see Ff.
184: wear] wait Rowe (ed. i).
190: see] shew Rowe (ed. i).
191: unworthy] Q. unworthy to have Ff.
196: gentlewomen] Q. gentlewoman Ff.
197: one an opinion of another’s] an opinion of one another’s Pope.
200: in to] Q F4. into F1 F2 F3. to Rowe (ed. i).
201: Scene x. Pope.
204: their] Q. the Ff.
214: have] to have Rowe.
215: remnants] Q F1. remains F2 F3 F4.
217: youth...age] age...youth Collier MS.
224: in to] into F3.
232: knife’s] Pope. knives Q Ff.
choke] not choke Collier MS.
235: in to] into F1.
238: is] are Hanmer.
Scene i. Enter... Ursula.] Enter H. and two Gentlewomen, M. and Ursley. Q.
1: to] into Pope.
4: Ursula] Ursley Q.
9: like] like to Pope.
12: listen our propose] Q. listen our purpose F1. listen to our purpose F2 F3 F4.
14: warrant you] Q F1. warrant F2 F3 F4.
23: Enter B. behind.] Steevens (after line 23). Enter B. Q (after line 25) Ff. Enter B. running towards the arbour. Theobald. Enter B. stealing in behind. Collier MS.
29: even] e’en Pope.
33: false sweet] false-sweet S. Walker conj.
34: she is] she’s Pope.
42: wrestle] wrastle Q Ff.
45: as full as] Q F1 F2. as full, as F3 F4.
51: eyes] Q F1. eye F2 F3 F4.
58: she] sheele Q.
62: She would] She’d Pope.
63: antique] Q. anticke F1.
65: agate] agot Q Ff. aglet Theobald (Warburton).
72: not] for Rowe. nor Capell.
75: She would] she’d Pope.
air] an air Rowe (ed. i).
79: better death than] better death, then Q. better death, to F1. better death, to F2 F3 F4.
80: as die] as ’tis to die Pope.
89: swift] sweet Rowe.
91: Signior] om. Pope.
96: bearing, argument] F4. bearing argument Q F1 F2 F3.
for bearing, argument] forbearing argument Jackson conj.
101: every day] in a day Collier MS.
103: me to-morrow] me,—to-morrow! Anon. conj.
104: limed] Q. tane Ff. ta’en Rowe.
106: Cupid kills] Q F1 F2. Cupids kills F3. Cupid kill F4.
107: mine] my F4.
110: behind the back] but in the lack Collier MS.
Scene ii. A room...] Capell.
2: go I] I go F3 F4.
10: hangman] henchman Upton conj. twangman Becket conj.
15: be] is Pope.
21, 22: Omitted by Tieck.
21: Bene.] Leon. Anon. conj.
24: Where] Which Rowe.
25: can] Pope. cannot Q Ff.
30–33: or in the...doublet] Q. omitted in Ff, restored by Pope (ed. 2).
33: no doublet] all doublet Mason conj.
35: appear] Q. to appear Ff.
37: a’] a Q Ff. he Rowe.
o’ mornings] Pope (ed. i). a mornings Q Ff. a-mornings Pope (ed. 2).
45: a’] a Q Ff. he Rowe.
48: D. Pedro.] Prin. Ff. Bene. Q.
53: now governed] governed Anon. conj. new-governed S. Walker conj.
54: conclude, conclude] Q. conclude Ff.
61: face] heels Theobald. feet Mason conj.
upwards] downwards Grey conj.
70: Scene iii. Pope.
76: D. Pedro.] Claudio. Capell conj.
85, 86: brother,...heart hath] Rowe. brother (I think...heart) hath Q Ff.
90: has] Q. hath Ff.
99: to-night,] Q omits the comma.
101: her then,] Hanmer. her, then Q Ff.
110: her to-morrow,] Rowe. Q Ff. omit the comma. her; to-morrow, Capell.
115: midnight] Q. night Ff.
119, 120: so...sequel.] Printed as a verse by Rowe.
120: when you have] when have F2.
Scene iii.] Capell. Scene iv. Pope. om. Q Ff.
Enter D. and Verges...] Enter D. and his compartner... Q Ff.
8: desartless] disartless F4.
10: George] Francis Halliwell. See note (xvi).
19: no] more Warburton.
21: lantern] lantherne Q F1 F2. lanthorn F3 F4.
24: a’] he Rowe.
32: to talk] Q. talk Ff.
34, 41, 50, 62, 81: Watch.] Watch 2. Rowe.
39: those] Q. them Ff.
55: your] Q F1 F2. his F3 F4.
66: he bleats] Q F1 F2. it bleats F3 F4.
71: a’] a Q F1 F2 F3. I F4. he Pope.
73: statues] F1. statutes Q F2 F3 F4.
79: fellows’] Hanmer. fellowes Q F1 F2. fellows F3 F4. fellow’s Rowe.
counsels] counsel F4.
87: vigitant] Q F1. vigilant F2 F3 F4.
88: Scene v. Pope.
89: [Aside.] Rowe.
95: with] om. Rowe (ed. 1).
100: Don] Dun Q.
104: villany] villain Warburton.
rich] cheap Theobald conj.
115, 116: a’...a’] a...a Q Ff. he...he Pope. See note (xvii).
116: this seven year] Q. this seven years Ff. these seven years Warburton. these seven year Steevens.
119: vane] Q F2 F3 F4. vaine F1. rain S. Walker conj. See note (xviii).
122: sometimes] Q Ff. sometime Steevens.
123: reeky] rechie Q Ff.
123, 124: sometime] Q F1 F2. sometimes F3 F4.
124: god] the god Pope.
124, 125: sometime] Q F1 F3 F4. somtime F2. sometimes Rowe.
127: and I see] Q. and see Ff.
129: too] om. Rowe.
137: afar] far Pope.
139: they] Q. thy Ff.
147: saw] had seen Capell.
149: [Starting out upon them. Capell.
153: the] Q F1 F2. a F3 F4.
159–161: Con. Masters,—First Watch. Never...us.] Theobald. Con. Masters, never...us. Q Ff.
Scene iv.] Capell. Scene vi. Pope.
Hero’s apartment.] Theobald.
6: rabato] Hanmer. rebato Q Ff.
8: troth’s] troth it’s Rowe (ed. 2).
17: troth’s] troth it’s Pope. See note (xix).
18: o’ gold] Capell. a gold Q Ff. of gold Pope.
19: pearls, down sleeves] pearls down the sleeves Steevens conj.
skirts, round] Q F1 F2. skirts, round, F3 F4. skirts round, Hanmer. skirts round Dyce.
29: say, ‘saving...husband:’] See note (xx).
an] and Ff. & Q. if Pope.
34: Scene vii. Pope.
38: Clap’s] Q. Claps Ff. Clap us Rowe (ed. 2).
38, 40: o’ love] Rowe (ed. 2). a love Q Ff.
40: Ye] Q Ff. Yes, Rowe. Yea, Steevens (Capell conj.).
41: see] Q. look Ff.
57: goodly] Q F1 F2. a goodly F3 F4.
65: this] the Capell conj.
76: of thinking] with thinking Pope. o’ thinking Capell.
79: eats] eats not Johnson conj.
83: that] om. F4.
Scene v.] Scene viii. Pope.
Enter...] Enter Leonato, and the Constable, and the Headborough. Q Ff.
4: it is] ’tis F4.
9: off] Steevens (Capell conj.). of Q Ff.
11: honest] as honest Rowe (ed. 2).
23: an ’twere a thousand pound] Capell. and ’t twere a thousand pound Q. and ’twere a thousand times Ff. and twice a thousand times Pope.
30: ha’] ha Q. have Ff. hath Pope.
35: God’s] he’s Pope.
an] Pope. and Q Ff.
ride of a horse] Q F1. ride of horse F2. rides an horse F3 F4. ride an horse Rowe (ed 2).
42: our watch, sir,] om. sir F4.
43: aspicious] auspicious Rowe (ed. 2).
46: it] Q. om. Ff.
47: [Exit Q Ff.
48: Enter...] Rowe.
51: [Exeunt L. and M.] Capell. [Ex. Leon. Pope.
54: examination] Q. examine Ff.
these] Q. those Ff.
56: you] om. Pope.
57: that] that [touching his forehead. Johnson.
57: to a noncome] Q Ff. to non-come Pope. to a non-com Capell.
Scene i. and attendants.] om. Q Ff. Guests and attendants. Grant White.
4: lady.] lady? Rowe (ed. 2).
6: her: friar,] Q F1. her, friar, F2 F3 F4. her, friar; Rowe (ed. 2).
9: count.] count? Rowe (ed. 2).
19: not knowing what they do!] Q. omitted in Ff.
42–44: S. Walker proposes to make four lines ending lord?...soul...lord,...proof.
43: Not to knit] Q F1. Not knit F2 F3 F4. Nor knit Steevens conj. Not to be...soul as one line, Steevens (Tyrwhitt conj.).
44: Dear] Dear, dear Capell.
proof] approof Theobald.
48: You will] You’ll Pope.
55: thee! Seeming] Grant White. thee seeming Q Ff. thy seeming Pope. the seeming Knight.
write] rate Warburton conj.
56: You...orb] Becket would put in inverted commas.
seem] seem’d Hanmer.
Dian] Diane Q F1 F2. Diana F3 F4.
60: rage] range Collier MS.
61: wide] wild Collier MS.
62: Leon.] Claud. Tieck.
75: do so] Q F2. doe F1. to do F3 F4.
78: F2 F3 F4 give this line to Leonato; Theobald restored it to Claudio.
81: itself] herself Rowe.
86: are you] Q. you are Ff.
91: most like a liberal] like an illiberal Hanmer. like a most liberal Anon. conj.
94: Fie, fie] Fie Hanmer, dividing the lines, A thousand...are Not...spoke of.
95: spoke] Q. spoken Ff.
97: Thus] Thou Collier MS.
101: thy thoughts] Q Ff. the thoughts Rowe.
108: [Hero swoons] Hanmer.
111: [Exeunt...] Rowe. om. Q Ff.
112: Scene ii. Pope.
118: look up] still look up Steevens conj.
120: Why, doth not] Theobald. Why doth not Q Ff.
125: shames] shame’s F3 F4.
126: rearward] F3 F4. rereward Q. reward F1. reareward F2. hazard Collier MS. re-word Brae conj.
128: frame] ’fraine Warburton. hand Hanmer. frown Collier MS.
129: O,] Q F1. om. F2 F3 F4. I’ve Rowe.
131: I not] not I Rowe.
133: smirched] Q. smeered F1 F2 F3. smeer’d F4.
136, 137: and...and...And] as...as...As Warburton.
140: ink,] ink! Capell.
143: foul-tainted] foule tainted Q Ff. soul-tainted Collier MS.
143–145: Sir, sir...to say] Printed as prose in Q Ff, as verse by Pope.
152: Would the two princes lie, and Claudio lie] Q. Would the princes lie and Claudio lie F1. Would the prince lie and Claudio would he lie F2 F3 F4.
155–158: Hear me......mark’d] See note (xxi).
156: been silent] silent been Grant White.
157: course] cross Collier MS.
159, 160: apparitions To start into] Q F1 F2 F3. apparitions To start in F4. apparitions start Into Reed.
161: beat] beate Q. beare F1 F2. bear F3 F4.
165: observations] observation Hanmer.
167: tenour] Theobald. tenure Q Ff.
book] books Heath conj.
168: reverence, calling] reverend calling Collier MS.
170: biting] blighting Collier MS.
Friar] om. Hanmer.
185: princes] Q F1. prince F2 F3 F4.
186: bent] bend Becket conj.
188: lives] lies S. Walker conj.
189: frame of] fraud and Collier MS.
192: of it] it F3 F4.
197: kind] cause Capell conj. MS.
200: throughly] thoroughly F4.
202: princes left for dead] Theobald. princesse (left for dead) Q Ff.
217: it so] so it F4.
219: Whiles] Whilst Pope.
lack’d and lost] lost and lack’d Collier MS.
220: rack] reck Johnson (ed. 1).
222: Whiles] Whilst Rowe. Whist Warburton.
224: life] love Pope.
228: moving-delicate] Capell. moving delicate, Q F1. moving, delicate, F2 F3 F4.
249: I flow in grief] I flow In grief, alas, Hanmer. alas, I flow in grief Capell.
254: [Exeunt...] Exit. Q Ff.
255: Scene iii. Pope.
273: swear] Q. swear by it Ff.
289: it] Q. om. Ff.
290: [He seizes her. Halliwell.
299: he] Rowe. a Q Ff.
311: Beat—] Theolbald Beat? Q F1. Bett? F2 F3. But? F4. But— Rowe. But, Beatrice— Steevens conj.
312: counties] counts Rowe (ed. 2).
313: count, Count Comfect] counte, counte comfect Q. count, comfect F1. count-comfect F2 F3 F4. Count—confect Grant White.
316: courtesies] cursies Q F1. curtsies F2. curtesies F3 F4. courtesy Collier MS. curses Grant White conj.
317: tongue] tongues Hanmer.
328: I leave] Q. leave Ff.
329: a dear] Q F1. dear F2 F3 F4.
Scene ii.] Capell. Scene iv. Pope.
A prison] Theobald.
Enter...] Enter the Constables, Borachio, and the Towne Clearke in gownes. Q Ff. See note (xxi).
1: Dog.] Capell. Keeper Q Ff. Town-Clerk. Rowe. See note (xxi).
2: Verg.] Capell. Cowley. Q F1 F2 F3. Cowly. F4. Dog. Rowe. See note (xxi).
a cushion] Q F1. cushion F2 F3 F4.
4: Dog.] Capell. Andrew. Q Ff. Verg. Rowe. See note (xxi).
16–19: Yea, sir...villains] Omitted in Ff, restored by Theobald.
20: go] grow Rowe (ed. 2).
25: ear: sir,] ear sir, Q F1 F2 F3. ear sir; F4.
30: constable] Town Clerk Rowe.
31: forth] Q Ff. om. Rowe.
32: eftest] easiest Rowe. deftest Theobald.
39: constable] Town Clerk Rowe.
44: for accusing] for the accusing Rowe (ed. 2).
47: by mass] Q. by th’ masse Ff.
60: Leonato’s] Leonatoes Q. Leonato Ff.
63, 64: Verg. Let them be in the hands— Con. Off, coxcomb!] Malone. Couley. Let them be in the hands of Coxcombe Q. Sex. Let...coxcombe Ff. Conr. Let...coxcomb Theobald. Con. Let us...Coxcomb Hanmer. Sexton. Let them be in hand. Conr. Off, Coxcomb! Warburton. Ver. Let them be in bands. Con. Off, coxcomb! Capell. Let them be in band— Steevens. Let them bind their hands Tyrwhitt conj. (withdrawn). Ver. Let them be in the hands of— Con. Coxcomb! Malone conj. Ver. Let them be bound. Con. Hands off, Coxcomb! Collier MS. See note (xxii).
66, 67: bind them. Thou] bind them; thou F3 F4. bind them thou Q F1 F2.
68: Con.] Rowe. Couley. Q F1 F2 F3. Cowley. F4.
76: is] Q. om. Ff.
78: losses] leases Collier MS. lawsuits Anon. (N. and Q.) conj.
80: [Exeunt.] Pope. [Exit. Q Ff.
Scene i. Before L.’s house] Pope.
6: comforter] Q. comfort F1. comfort els F2. comfort else F3 F4.
7: do] doe Q. doth Ff.
10: speak] speak to me Hanmer.
16: Bid sorrow wag, cry ‘hem!’] Capell. And sorrow, wagge, crie hem Q F1 F2. And hallow, wag, cry hem F3. And hollow, wag, cry hem F4. And sorrow wage; cry, hem Theobald. And sorrow waive, cry hem Hanmer. And, sorrow wag! cry; hem Johnson. And sorrow gagge; cry hem Tyrwhitt conj. And sorrowing, cry hem Heath conj. Cry, sorrow, wag! and hem Steevens (Johnson conj.). In sorrow wag; cry hem Malone. And sorry wag, cry hem Steevens conj. And, sorrow waggery, hem Ritson conj. And sorrow-wagg’d cry hem Becket conj. And—sorrow wag!—cry hem Dyce. Call sorrow joy, cry hem Collier MS. Say, sorrow, wag; cry hem S. Walker conj. And sorrow’s wag, cry hem Grant White. And sorrow away! cry hem Halliwell conj. At sorrow wink, cry hem Anon. conj.
18: candle-wasters] caudle-waters Jackson conj.
yet] you Collier MS.
21: speak] Q F1 F2. give F3 F4.
38: push] Q Ff. pish Rowe (ed. 2).
45: Scene ii. Pope.
52: wrongs him] wrongeth him Hanmer. wrongs him, sir? Capell.
53: Marry, thou] marry, Thou, thou Steevens. who? Marry thou S. Walker conj.
63: mine] Q. my Ff.
67: mine] my Pope.
78: daff] doffe Warburton.
83: come, sir boy, come, follow me] Q Ff. come boy, follow me Pope. come sir boy, follow me Capell.
91: braggarts, Jacks] Jacks, braggarts Hanmer.
94: monging] Q F1. mongring F2 F3 F4.
96: and] om. Spedding conj.
outward] an outward Rowe.
97: off] Theobald, of Q Ff.
102: wake] rack Hanmer. wrack Warburton. waste Talbot conj.
patience] passions Anon. conj.
105: what] om. F2 F3 F4.
106–109: Printed as three lines ending No!...shall,...it. by Hanmer.
107: Enter Benedick. Ff.
108: No?] Capell. No Q F1. No! F2 F3 F4.
Come] om. Steevens.
109: Enter Ben. Q.
[Exeunt...] Exeunt ambo. Q Ff (after the preceding line).
110: we] he F3 F4.
114: almost] om. Rowe (ed. 2).
115: like] likt Q F1.
120: a] om. F3 F4.
143: [Aside to Claudio] Edd. See note (xxiii).
149: a feast, a feast?] Q F1. a feast? F2 F3 F4.
150: I’ faith] Ay, faith, Capell conj.
a calf’s-head] Malone. a calves head Q F1 F2. calves heads F3 F4.
151: a capon] a cap-on Capell. capers Collier MS.
156: True] Right Rowe (ed. 2).
said] Q. saies F1 F2 F3 says F4.
157: Right] Just Rowe (ed. 2).
158: says she] said she Pope.
159: said she] says she Steevens.
160, 161: a wise gentleman] a wise gentle man Johnson conj.
164: there’s] theirs Q.
169: an] Hanmer. and Q Ff.
172: God] who Collier MS.
174: savage] Q F1 F2. salvage F3 F4.
175: on] one Q.
184: lady. For] lady: for Q F1 F2 F3. lady, for F4. lady for Rowe.
185: [Exit.] Rowe.
189: thee.] thee? Pope.
193: Scene iv. Pope.
195: let me be] Q F1. let me see F2 F3 F4. let be Capell.
let me be: pluck] let me pluck Malone conj.
197: Scene iv. Hanmer.
Enter...] Hanmer. Enter Constables, C. and B. Q (after 192). Enter Constable, C. and B. Ff (after 192).
198: weigh more] more weigh S. Walker conj.
an] if Pope.
211: you lay] lay you F4.
215: Who] Q F1. Whom F2 F3 F4.
222: overheard] heard F4.
232: whiles] while Rowe.
234: Yea, and...of it] Yea; And...on’t S. Walker conj.
and] om. Pope.
richly] rich F2 F3 F4.
235: and framed] om. F3 F4.
240: reformed] informed F3 F4.
245: Scene v. Pope.
Re-enter...] Capell. Enter Leonato. Q Ff. Enter L. and Sexton. Theobald.
249: Art thou] Q. Art thou thou F1. Art thou, art thou F2 F3 F4.
259: Impose] Expose Hanmer.
me to] to me Capell conj.
264: to] too F3 F4.
265: I cannot bid you bid my daughter live] Q F1. I cannot bid you daughter live F2. I cannot bid your daughter live F3. You cannot bid my daughter live F4. You cannot bid my daughter live again Rowe. I cannot bid you cause my daughter live Collier MS.
285: pack’d] packt Q Ff. pact Collier.
306: arrant] errant F4.
311: [Exeunt D. and V.] Edd. Exeunt D., V. and Watch. Capell. Exeunt. Ff (after line 312). om. Q.
315: [To the Watch.] Edd.
Scene ii.] Capell. Scene vi. Pope.
Leonato’s garden.] Reed. L.’s house. Pope. See note (xxiv).
8, 9: me! why, shall...stairs?] me, why shal...staires. Q. me, why, shall...staires? Ff.
9: keep below] keep above Theobald. keep men below Steevens conj. keep them below Singer conj.
23: [Sings.] Pope.
23–26: Printed as prose in Q Ff, as verse by Capell.
29: names] Q F3 F4. name F1 F2.
31: over and over] Q F1. over F2 F3 F4.
32: it in] Q F3 F4. it F1 F2.
33: baby] babie Q F1. badie F2 F3. bady F4. baudy Rowe.
34: innocent] Q F1. innocents F2 F3 F4. innocent’s Rowe.
36: nor] Q. for Ff.
37: Enter Beatrice] Ff. Enter B. Q (after line 38).
38: Scene vii. Pope.
called] call Rowe.
42: came] came for Pope. See note (xxvi).
48: his] its Rowe.
54: all together] altogether Hanmer.
maintained] maintain Capell conj.
57: first] om. Rowe.
64: this] that Hanmer.
69: monument] Q. monuments Ff.
bell rings] Q. bells ring Ff.
71: Question:] Question, Q Ff. Question? Pope. om. Hanmer.
72: rheum] thewme F3. thewm F4.
is it] it is F4.
74: myself. So] myself so Q Ff.
81: Enter U.] Q. Enter U. Ff (after line 79).
88: in thy lap] on thy lip Brae conj.
90: uncle’s] uncle Rowe.
Scene iii.] Capell. Scene viii. Pope.
2: A Lord.] Lord. Q Ff. Atten. Rowe.
3: Claud. [Reading...] Capell. Epitaph. Q Ff.
3: by] with Capell (corrected in MS.).
9: [Affixing it. Capell.
10: dumb] Ff. dead Q.
13: thy] the Rowe.
knight] bright Collier MS.
15: they] we Collier MS.
20: Till] Until Hanmer.
21: Heavily, heavily] Q. Heavenly, heavenly Ff.
22: Claud.] Rowe. Lo. Q Ff.
23: rite] Pope. right Q Ff.
29: his several way] his way can tell Collier MS.
32: speed’s] Theobald (Thirlby conj.). speeds Q F1 speed F2 F3 F4.
33: whom] which Hanmer.
Scene iv.] Scene ix. Pope.
...Margaret] om. Reed (1793).
7: sort] sorts Q.
10: you] Q F1. yong F2. young F3 F4.
12: [Exeunt Ladies.] Q Ff (after line 16). Capell (after line 17). Dyce (after line 14).
23: Leon.] Q F1. Old. F2 F3 F4. Ant. Rowe.
30: In the] Q F1. I’th F2 F3 F4.
state] estate Johnson.
31: friar,] om. F3 F4.
33: Here...Claudio] Q. omitted in Ff.
34: Scene x. Pope.
and...others] and...other. Q. with attendants. Ff.
45: all Europa] Q F1 F2. so all Europe F3 F4. all our Europe Steevens conj.
50: And got] Q F3 F4. A got F1 F2.
52: Scene xi. Pope.
comes] Q Ff. come Rowe.
Re-enter...] Enter brother, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, Ursula. Q Ff.
54: This line is given to Leonato in Q Ff, to Antonio first by Theobald.
58: hand: before......friar,] Pope. hand before...friar, Q Ff.
60: [Unmasking.] Rowe.
63: defiled] Q. om. Ff. belied Collier MS.
69: you] thee F3 F4.
74: Why, no] Why F3 F4. No Steevens.
75, 76: Printed as Prose in Ff.
76: they swore] Q Ff. for they did swear Hanmer. for they swore Capell.
77: Troth] om. Steevens.
79: did swear] swore Collier MS.
80: that] Q. om. Ff.
81: that] Q. om. Ff.
82: such] Q. om. Ff.
94: not] yet Theobald, now Hanmer.
96: I was told] Q F1 F2 as I told F3 F4 as I was told Rowe.
97: Given to Leonato in Q Ff, corrected by Theobald.
[Kissing her.] Theobald.
99: wit-crackers] witte-crackers Q F1 F2. witty-crackers F3 F4.
102: a’] a Q Ff, Collier. he Rowe.
103: purpose] propose Reed (1803).
105: what] Q F3 F4. om. F1 F2.
112: do] no F4.
116: afterward] Q F2. afterwards F2 F3 F4.
117: play,] Pope. play Q Ff.
118: there is no] No S. Walker conj., making a verse.
122: thee] the, F4.
Ferdinand, king of Navarre.
Biron, lord attending on the King.
Longaville, ” ” ”
Dumain, ” ” ”
Boyet, lord attending on the Princess of France.
Mercade, ” ” ”
Don Adriano de Armado, a fantastical Spaniard.
Sir Nathaniel, a curate.
Holofernes, a schoolmaster.
Dull, a constable.
Costard, a clown.
Moth2, page to Armado.
A Forester.
The Princess of France.
Rosaline, lady attending on the Princess.
Maria, ” ” ”
Katharine, ” ” ”
Jaquenetta, a country wench.
Lords, Attendants, &c.
Scene—Navarre.
King. Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives,
Live register’d upon our brazen tombs,
003 And then grace us in the disgrace of death;
When, spite of cormorant devouring Time,
005 The endeavour of this present breath may buy
That honour which shall bate his scythe’s keen edge,
And make us heirs of all eternity.
Therefore, brave conquerors,—for so you are,
That war against your own affections
010 And the huge army of the world’s desires,—
Our late edict shall strongly stand in force:
Navarre shall be the wonder of the world;
013 Our court shall be a little Academe,
Still and contemplative in living art.
015 You three, Biron, Dumain, and Longaville,
Have sworn for three years’ term to live with me
My fellow-scholars, and to keep those statutes
018 That are recorded in this schedule here:
Your oaths are pass’d; and now subscribe your names,
020 That his own hand may strike his honour down
That violates the smallest branch herein:
If you are arm’d to do as sworn to do,
023 Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it too.
Long. I am resolved; ’tis but a three years’ fast:
025 The mind shall banquet, though the body pine:
Fat paunches have lean pates; and dainty bits
027 Make rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the wits.
Dum. My loving lord, Dumain is mortified:
029 The grosser manner of these world’s delights
030 He throws upon the gross world’s baser slaves:
031 To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die;
With all these living in philosophy.
Biron. I can but say their protestation over;
So much, dear liege, I have already sworn,
035 That is, to live and study here three years.
But there are other strict observances;
As, not to see a woman in that term,
Which I hope well is not enrolled there;
And one day in a week to touch no food,
040 And but one meal on every day beside,
The which I hope is not enrolled there;
And then, to sleep but three hours in the night,
And not be seen to wink of all the day,—
When I was wont to think no harm all night,
045 And make a dark night too of half the day,—
Which I hope well is not enrolled there:
O, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep,
Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep!
King. Your oath is pass’d to pass away from these.
050 Biron. Let me say no, my liege, an if you please:
I only swore to study with your grace,
And stay here in your court for three years’ space.
Long. You swore to that, Biron, and to the rest.
Biron. By yea and nay, sir, then I swore in jest.
055 What is the end of study? let me know.
King. Why, that to know, which else we should not know.
Biron. Things hid and barr’d, you mean, from common sense?
King. Ay, that is study’s god-like recompense.
Biron. Come on, then; I will swear to study so,
060 To know the thing I am forbid to know:
As thus,—to study where I well may dine,
062 When I to feast expressly am forbid;
Or study where to meet some mistress fine,
When mistresses from common sense are hid;
065 Or, having sworn too hard a keeping oath,
Study to break it, and not break my troth.
067 If study’s gain be thus, and this be so,
Study knows that which yet it doth not know:
Swear me to this, and I will ne’er say no.
070 King. These be the stops that hinder study quite,
And train our intellects to vain delight.
072 Biron. Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain,
Which, with pain purchased, doth inherit pain:
As, painfully to pore upon a book
075 To seek the light of truth; while truth the while
Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look:
077 Light, seeking light, doth light of light beguile:
So, ere you find where light in darkness lies,
Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes.
080 Study me how to please the eye indeed,
By fixing it upon a fairer eye;
Who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed,
083 And give him light that it was blinded by.
Study is like the heaven’s glorious sun,
085 That will not be deep-search’d with saucy looks:
Small have continual plodders ever won,
087 Save base authority from others’ books.
These earthly godfathers of heaven’s lights,
That give a name to every fixed star,
090 Have no more profit of their shining nights
Than those that walk and wot not what they are.
092 Too much to know, is to know nought but fame;
And every godfather can give a name.
King. How well he’s read, to reason against reading!
095 Dum. Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding!
Long. He weeds the corn, and still lets grow the weeding.
Biron. The spring is near, when green geese are a-breeding.
Dum. How follows that?
Fit in his place and time.
Dum. In reason nothing.
Something, then, in rhyme.
100 King. Biron is like an envious sneaping frost,
That bites the first-born infants of the spring.
Biron. Well, say I am; why should proud summer boast,
103 Before the birds have any cause to sing?
Why should I joy in any abortive birth?
105 At Christmas I no more desire a rose
106 Than wish a snow in May’s new-fangled shows;
But like of each thing that in season grows.
108 So you, to study now it is too late,
109 Climb o’er the house to unlock the little gate.
110 King. Well, sit you out: go home, Biron: adieu.
Biron. No, my good lord; I have sworn to stay with you:
And though I have for barbarism spoke more
Than for that angel knowledge you can say,
114 Yet confident I’ll keep what I have swore,
115 And bide the penance of each three years’ day.
Give me the paper; let me read the same;
117 And to the strict’st decrees I’ll write my name.
King. How well this yielding rescues thee from shame!
Biron [reads]. ‘Item, That no woman shall come within a 120 mile of my court,’—Hath this been proclaimed?
Long. Four days ago.
123 Biron. Let’s see the penalty. [Reads] ‘on pain of losing her tongue.’ Who devised this penalty?
Long. Marry, that did I.
125 Biron. Sweet lord, and why?
Long. To fright them hence with that dread penalty.
127 Biron. A dangerous law against gentility!
[Reads] ‘Item, If any man be seen to talk with a woman within the term of three years, he shall endure such public shame as the rest 130 of the court can possibly devise.’
This article, my liege, yourself must break;
For well you know here comes in embassy
The French king’s daughter with yourself to speak,—
A maid of grace and complete majesty,—
135 About surrender up of Aquitaine
136 To her decrepit, sick, and bedrid father:
Therefore this article is made in vain,
138 Or vainly comes the admired princess hither.
King. What say you, lords? why, this was quite forgot.
140 Biron. So study evermore is overshot:
While it doth study to have what it would,
It doth forget to do the thing it should;
And when it hath the thing it hunteth most,
’Tis won as towns with fire, so won, so lost.
145 King. We must of force dispense with this decree;
146 She must lie here on mere necessity.
147 Biron. Necessity will make us all forsworn
Three thousand times within this three years’ space;
For every man with his affects is born,
150 Not by might master’d, but by special grace:
151 If I break faith, this word shall speak for me,
I am forsworn on ‘mere necessity.’
153 So to the laws at large I write my name: [Subscribes
And he that breaks them in the least degree
155 Stands in attainder of eternal shame:
156 Suggestions are to other as to me;
But I believe, although I seem so loth,
158 I am the last that will last keep his oath.
But is there no quick recreation granted?
160 King. Ay, that there is. Our court, you know, is haunted
161 With a refined traveller of Spain;
162 A man in all the world’s new fashion planted,
That hath a mint of phrases in his brain;
164 One whom the music of his own vain tongue
165 Doth ravish like enchanting harmony;
A man of complements, whom right and wrong
Have chose as umpire of their mutiny:
This child of fancy, that Armado hight,
For interim to our studies, shall relate.
170 In high-born words, the worth of many a knight
From tawny Spain, lost in the world’s debate.
How you delight, my lords, I know not, I;
But, I protest, I love to hear him lie,
And I will use him for my minstrelsy.
175 Biron. Armado is a most illustrious wight.
176 A man of fire-new words, fashion’s own knight.
Long. Costard the swain and he shall be our sport;
178 And, so to study, three years is but short.
179 Dull. Which is the Duke’s own person?
180 Biron. This, fellow: what wouldst?
Dull. I myself reprehend his own person, for I am his 182 Grace’s tharborough: but I would see his own person in flesh and blood.
Biron. This is he.
185 Dull. Signior Arme—Arme—commends you. There’s villany abroad: this letter will tell you more.
Cost. Sir, the contempts thereof are as touching me.
King. A letter from the magnificent Armado.
Biron. How low soever the matter, I hope in God for 190 high words.
191 Long. A high hope for a low heaven: God grant us patience!
193 Biron. To hear? or forbear laughing?
194 Long. 195 To hear meekly, sir, and to laugh moderately; or to forbear both.
Biron. Well, sir, be it as the style shall give us cause 197 to climb in the merriness.
Cost. The matter is to me, sir, as concerning Jaquenetta. 199 The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner.
200 Biron. In what manner?
Cost. In manner and form following, sir; all those three: I was seen with her in the manor-house, sitting with her upon the form, and taken following her into the park; which, put together, is in manner and form following. Now, 205 sir, for the manner,—it is the manner of a man to speak to a woman: for the form,—in some form.
Biron. For the following, sir?
Cost. As it shall follow in my correction: and God defend the right!
210 King. Will you hear this letter with attention?
Biron. As we would hear an oracle.
Cost. Such is the simplicity of man to hearken after the flesh.
King. [reads]. ‘Great deputy, the welkin’s vicegerent, and sole 215 dominator of Navarre, my soul’s earth’s god, and body’s fostering patron.’—
Cost. Not a word of Costard yet.
King. [reads]. ‘So it is,’—
Cost. It may be so: but if he say it is so, he is, in telling 220 true, but so.
King. Peace!
Cost. Be to me, and every man that dares not fight!
King. No words!
Cost. Of other men’s secrets, I beseech you.
King. [reads]. 225 ‘So it is, besieged with sable-coloured melancholy, I did commend the black-oppressing humour to the most wholesome physic of thy health-giving air; and, as I am a gentleman, betook myself to walk. The time when. About the sixth hour; when beasts most graze, birds best peck, and men sit down to that nourishment 230 which is called supper: so much for the time when. Now for the ground which; which, I mean, I walked upon: it is ycleped thy park. Then for the place where; where, I mean, I did encounter that obscene and most preposterous event, that draweth from my snow-white pen the ebon-coloured ink, which here thou viewest, beholdest, 235 surveyest, or seest: but to the place where,—it standeth north-north- east and by east from the west corner of thy curious-knotted garden: 237 there did I see that low-spirited swain, that base minnow of thy mirth,’—
239 Cost. Me?
King. [reads]. 240 ‘that unlettered small-knowing soul,’—
Cost. Me?
King. [reads]. 242 ‘that shallow vassal,’—
Cost. Still me?
King. [reads]. ‘which, as I remember, hight Costard,’
245 Cost. O, me!
King. [reads]. ‘sorted and consorted, contrary to thy established 247 proclaimed edict and continent canon, which with,—O, with— but with this I passion to say wherewith,’—
Cost. With a wench.
King. [reads] 250 ‘with a child of our grandmother Eve, a female; 251 or, for thy more sweet understanding, a woman. Him I, as my everesteemed 252 duty pricks me on, have sent to thee, to receive the meed 253 of punishment, by thy sweet Grace’s officer, Anthony Dull; a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, and estimation.’
255 Dull. Me, an’t shall please you; I am Anthony Dull.
King. [reads]. ‘For Jaquenetta,—so is the weaker vessel called 257 which I apprehended with the aforesaid swain,—I keep her as a vessel of thy law’s fury; and shall, at the least of thy sweet notice, bring her to trial. Thine, in all compliments of devoted and heart-burning heat 260 of duty. Don Adriano de Armado.’
Biron. This is not so well as I looked for, but the best that ever I heard.
King. Ay, the best for the worst. But, sirrah, what say you to this?
265 Cost. Sir, I confess the wench.
King. Did you hear the proclamation?
Cost. I do confess much of the hearing it, but little of the marking of it.
King. It was proclaimed a year’s imprisonment, to be 270 taken with a wench.
271 Cost. I was taken with none, sir: I was taken with a 272 damsel.
King. Well, it was proclaimed damsel.
Cost. This was no damsel neither, sir; she was a virgin.
275 King. It is so varied too; for it was proclaimed virgin.
Cost. If it were, I deny her virginity: I was taken with a maid.
King. This maid will not serve your turn, sir.
Cost. This maid will serve my turn, sir.
280 King. Sir, I will pronounce your sentence: you shall fast a week with bran and water.
Cost. I had rather pray a month with mutton and porridge.
King. And Don Armado shall be your keeper.
285 My Lord Biron, see him deliver’d o’er:
And go we, lords, to put in practice that
287 Which each to other hath so strongly sworn. [Exeunt King, Longaville, and Dumain.
288 Biron. I’ll lay my head to any good man’s hat,
These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn.
290 Sirrah, come on.
Cost. I suffer for the truth, sir; for true it is, I was taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a true girl; and, 293 therefore, welcome the sour cup of prosperity! Affliction 294 may one day smile again; and till then, sit thee down, 295 sorrow! [Exeunt.
Arm. Boy, what sign is it when a man of great spirit grows melancholy?
Moth. A great sign, sir, that he will look sad.
Arm. Why, sadness is one and the self-same thing, 005 dear imp.
Moth. No, no; O Lord, sir, no.
Arm. How canst thou part sadness and melancholy, my tender juvenal?
Moth. By a familiar demonstration of the working, 010 my tough senior.
Arm. Why tough senior? why tough senior?
Moth. Why tender juvenal? why tender juvenal?
013 Arm. I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a congruent epitheton appertaining to thy young days, which we may 015 nominate tender.
Moth. And I, tough senior, as an appertinent title to your old time, which we may name tough.
Arm. Pretty and apt.
Moth. How mean you, sir? I pretty, and my saying 020 apt? or I apt, and my saying pretty?
Arm. Thou pretty, because little.
022 Moth. Little pretty, because little. Wherefore apt?
023 Arm. And therefore apt, because quick.
Moth. Speak you this in my praise, master?
025 Arm. In thy condign praise.
Moth. I will praise an eel with the same praise.
027 Arm. What, that an eel is ingenious?
Moth. That an eel is quick.
Arm. I do say thou art quick in answers: thou heatest 030 my blood.
Moth. I am answered, sir.
Arm. I love not to be crossed.
033 Moth. [Aside] He speaks the mere contrary; crosses love not him.
035 Arm. I have promised to study three years with the 036 Duke.
Moth. You may do it in an hour, sir.
Arm. Impossible.
Moth. How many is one thrice told?
040 Arm. I am ill at reckoning; it fitteth the spirit of a tapster.
Moth. You are a gentleman and a gamester, sir.
Arm. I confess both: they are both the varnish of a complete man.
045 Moth. Then, I am sure, you know how much the gross sum of deuce-ace amounts to.
Arm. It doth amount to one more than two.
048 Moth. Which the base vulgar do call three.
Arm. True.
050 Moth. Why, sir, is this such a piece of study? Now 051 here is three studied, ere ye’ll thrice wink: and how easy it is to put years to the word three, and study three years in two words, the dancing horse will tell you.
Arm. A most fine figure!
055 Moth. To prove you a cipher.
Arm. I will hereupon confess I am in love: and as it is base for a soldier to love, so am I in love with a base wench. If drawing my sword against the humour of affection would deliver me from the reprobate thought of it, I 060 would take Desire prisoner, and ransom him to any French courtier for a new-devised courtesy. I think scorn to sigh: methinks I should outswear Cupid. Comfort me, boy: what great men have been in love?
Moth. Hercules, master.
065 Arm. Most sweet Hercules! More authority, dear boy, name more; and, sweet my child, let them be men of good repute and carriage.
Moth. Samson, master: he was a man of good carriage, great carriage, for he carried the town-gates on his 070 back like a porter: and he was in love.
Arm. O well-knit Samson! strong-jointed Samson! I do excel thee in my rapier as much as thou didst me in carrying gates. I am in love too. Who was Samson’s love, my dear Moth?
075 Moth. A woman, master.
Arm. Of what complexion?
Moth. Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the four.
Arm. Tell me precisely of what complexion.
080 Moth. Of the sea-water green, sir.
Arm. Is that one of the four complexions?
Moth. As I have read, sir; and the best of them too.
Arm. Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers; but to have a love of that colour, methinks Samson had small 085 reason for it. He surely affected her for her wit.
086 Moth. It was so, sir; for she had a green wit.
087 Arm. My love is most immaculate white and red.
088 Moth. Most maculate thoughts, master, are masked under such colours.
090 Arm. Define, define, well-educated infant.
Moth. My father’s wit, and my mother’s tongue, assist me!
Arm. Sweet invocation of a child; most pretty and 094 pathetical!
Moth.
095 If she be made of white and red,
Her faults will ne’er be known;
097 For blushing cheeks by faults are bred,
And fears by pale white shown:
Then if she fear, or be to blame,
100 By this you shall not know;
For still her cheeks possess the same
Which native she doth owe.
A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of white and red.
105 Arm. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar?
107 Moth. The world was very guilty of such a ballad some three ages since: but, I think, now ’tis not to be found; or, if it were, it would neither serve for the writing 110 nor the tune.
Arm. I will have that subject newly writ o’er, that I may example my digression by some mighty precedent. Boy, I do love that country girl that I took in the park 114 with the rational hind Costard: she deserves well.
115 Moth. [Aside] To be whipped; and yet a better 116 love than my master.
117 Arm. Sing, boy; my spirit grows heavy in love.
Moth. And that’s great marvel, loving a light wench.
Arm. I say, sing.
120 Moth. Forbear till this company be past.
Dull. Sir, the duke’s pleasure is, that you keep Costard 122 safe: and you must suffer him to take no delight nor no 123 penance; but a’ must fast three days a week. For this damsel, I must keep her at the park: she is allowed for 125 the day-woman. Fare you well.
Arm. I do betray myself with blushing. Maid.
Jaq. Man.
Arm. I will visit thee at the lodge.
Jaq. That’s hereby.
130 Arm. I know where it is situate.
Jaq. Lord, how wise you are!
Arm. I will tell thee wonders.
133 Jaq. With that face?
Arm. I love thee.
135 Jaq. So I heard you say.
Arm. And so, farewell.
Jaq. Fair weather after you!
138 Dull. Come, Jaquenetta, away! [Exeunt Dull and Jaquenetta.
139 Arm. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere thou 140 be pardoned.
Cost. Well, sir, I hope, when I do it, I shall do it on a full stomach.
Arm. Thou shalt be heavily punished.
Cost. I am more bound to you than your fellows, for 145 they are but lightly rewarded.
Arm. Take away this villain; shut him up.
Moth. Come, you transgressing slave; away!
148 Cost. Let me not be pent up, sir: I will fast, being loose.
Moth. No, sir; that were fast and loose: thou shalt to 150 prison.
Cost. Well, if ever I do see the merry days of desolation that I have seen, some shall see.
Moth. What shall some see?
Cost. Nay, nothing, Master Moth, but what they look 155 upon. It is not for prisoners to be too silent in their words; and therefore I will say nothing: I thank God I have as little patience as another man; and therefore I can be quiet. [Exeunt Moth and Costard.
Arm. I do affect the very ground, which is base, where her shoe, which is baser, guided by her foot, which is basest, 160 doth tread. I shall be forsworn, which is a great argument of falsehood, if I love. And how can that be true love which is falsely attempted? Love is a familiar; Love is 163 a devil: there is no evil angel but Love. Yet was Samson so tempted, and he had an excellent strength; yet was 165 Solomon so seduced, and he had a very good wit. Cupid’s butt-shaft is too hard for Hercules’ club; and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard’s rapier. The first and second cause will not serve my turn; the passado he respects not, 169 the duello he regards not: his disgrace is to be called boy; 170 but his glory is to subdue men. Adieu, valour! rust, rapier! 171 be still, drum! for your manager is in love; yea, he loveth. Assist me some extemporal god of rhyme, for I am sure I 173 shall turn sonnet. Devise, wit; write, pen; for I am for 174 whole volumes in folio. [Exit.
001 Boyet. Now, madam, summon up your dearest spirits:
002 Consider who the king your father sends;
To whom he sends; and what’s his embassy:
Yourself, held precious in the world’s esteem,
005 To parley with the sole inheritor
Of all perfections that a man may owe,
Matchless Navarre; the plea of no less weight
Than Aquitaine, a dowry for a queen.
Be now as prodigal of all dear grace.
010 As Nature was in making graces dear,
When she did starve the general world beside,
And prodigally gave them all to you.
013 Prin. Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean,
Needs not the painted flourish of your praise:
Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye,
Not utter’d by base sale of chapmen’s tongues:
I am less proud to hear you tell my worth
Than you much willing to be counted wise
019 In spending your wit in the praise of mine.
020 But now to task the tasker: good Boyet,
021 You are not ignorant, all-telling fame
Doth noise abroad, Navarre hath made a vow,
Till painful study shall outwear three years,
No woman may approach his silent court:
025 Therefore to’s seemeth it a needful course,
Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleasure; and in that behalf,
Bold of your worthiness, we single you
As our best-moving fair solicitor.
030 Tell him, the daughter of the King of France,
On serious business, craving quick dispatch,
032 Importunes personal conference with his Grace:
Haste, signify so much; while we attend,
034 Like humble-visaged suitors, his high will.
035 Boyet. Proud of employment, willingly I go.
036 Prin. All pride is willing pride, and yours is so. [Exit Boyet.
037 Who are the votaries, my loving lords,
That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke?
039 First Lord. Lord Longaville is one.
Know you the man?
040 Mar. I know him, madam: at a marriage-feast,
Between Lord Perigort and the beauteous heir
Of Jaques Falconbridge, solemnized
043 In Normandy, saw I this Longaville:
044 A man of sovereign parts he is esteem’d;
045 Well fitted in arts, glorious in arms:
Nothing becomes him ill that he would well.
The only soil of his fair virtue’s gloss,
047 If virtue’s gloss will stain with any soil,
Is a sharp wit match’d with too blunt a will;
050 Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills
051 It should none spare that come within his power.
052 Prin. Some merry mocking lord, belike; is’t so?
Mar. They say so most that most his humours know.
Prin. Such short-lived wits do wither as they grow.
055 Who are the rest?
Kath. The young Dumain, a well-accomplish’d youth,
Of all that virtue love for virtue loved:
058 Most power to do most harm, least knowing ill;
For he hath wit to make an ill shape good,
060 And shape to win grace, though he had no wit.
061 I saw him at the Duke Alençon’s once;
And much too little of that good I saw
Is my report to his great worthiness.
064 Ros. Another of these students at that time
065 Was there with him, if I have heard a truth.
Biron they call him; but a merrier man,
Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour’s talk withal:
069 His eye begets occasion for his wit;
070 For every object that the one doth catch,
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest,
Which his fair tongue, conceit’s expositor,
Delivers in such apt and gracious words,
That aged ears play truant at his tales,
075 And younger hearings are quite ravished;
076 So sweet and voluble is his discourse.
Prin. God bless my ladies! are they all in love,
That every one her own hath garnished
With such bedecking ornaments of praise?
080 First Lord. Here comes Boyet.
080 Now, what admittance, lord?
Boyet. Navarre had notice of your fair approach;
And he and his competitors in oath
Were all address’d to meet you, gentle lady,
084 Before I came. Marry, thus much I have learnt:
085 He rather means to lodge you in the field,
Like one that comes here to besiege his court,
Than seek a dispensation for his oath,
088 To let you enter his unpeeled house.
089 Here comes Navarre.
090 King. Fair princess, welcome to the court of Navarre.
Prin. ‘Fair’ I give you back again; and ‘welcome’ I have not yet: the roof of this court is too high to be yours; 093 and welcome to the wide fields too base to be mine.
King. You shall be welcome, madam, to my court.
095 Prin. I will be welcome, then: conduct me thither.
King. Hear me, dear lady; I have sworn an oath.
Prin. Our Lady help my lord! he’ll be forsworn.
King. Not for the world, fair madam, by my will.
099 Prin. Why, will shall break it; will, and nothing else.
100 King. Your ladyship is ignorant what it is.
Prin. Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise,
Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance.
I hear your grace hath sworn out house-keeping:
’Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord,
105 And sin to break it.
But pardon me, I am too sudden-bold:
To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming,
And suddenly resolve me in my suit.
110 King. Madam, I will, if suddenly I may.
Prin. You will the sooner, that I were away;
For you’ll prove perjured, if you make me stay.
Biron. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
114 Ros. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
115 Biron. I know you did.
116 Ros. How needless was it, then, to ask the question!
Biron. You must not be so quick.
Ros. ’Tis ’long of you that spur me with such questions.
Biron. Your wit’s too hot, it speeds too fast, ’twill tire.
120 Ros. Not till it leave the rider in the mire.
Biron. What time o’ day?
Ros. The hour that fools should ask.
Biron. Now fair befall your mask!
Ros. Fair fall the face it covers!
125 Biron. And send you many lovers!
Ros. Amen, so you be none.
Biron. Nay, then will I be gone.
King. Madam, your father here doth intimate
129 The payment of a hundred thousand crowns;
130 Being but the one half of an entire sum
Disbursed by my father in his wars.
But say that he or we, as neither have,
Received that sum, yet there remains unpaid
134 A hundred thousand more; in surety of the which,
135 One part of Aquitaine is bound to us,
Although not valued to the money’s worth.
If, then, the king your father will restore
138 But that one-half which is unsatisfied,
We will give up our right in Aquitaine,
140 And hold fair friendship with his Majesty.
But that, it seems, he little purposeth,
142 For here he doth demand to have repaid
143 A hundred thousand crowns; and not demands,
144 On payment of a hundred thousand crowns,
145 To have his title live in Aquitaine;
Which we much rather had depart withal,
147 And have the money by our father lent,
Than Aquitaine so gelded as it is.
Dear princess, were not his requests so far
150 From reason’s yielding, your fair self should make
A yielding, ’gainst some reason, in my breast,
And go well satisfied to France again.
Prin. You do the king my father too much wrong,
And wrong the reputation of your name,
155 In so unseeming to confess receipt
Of that which hath so faithfully been paid.
King. I do protest I never heard of it;
158 And if you prove it, I’ll repay it back,
Or yield up Aquitaine.
We arrest your word.
160 Boyet, you can produce acquittances
For such a sum from special officers
Of Charles his father.
Satisfy me so.
Boyet. So please your Grace, the packet is not come,
Where that and other specialties are bound:
165 To-morrow you shall have a sight of them.
King. It shall suffice me: at which interview
167 All liberal reason I will yield unto.
Meantime receive such welcome at my hand
As honour, without breach of honour, may
170 Make tender of to thy true worthiness:
171 You may not come, fair princess, in my gates;
But here without you shall be so received
As you shall deem yourself lodged in my heart,
174 Though so denied fair harbour in my house.
175 Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell:
176 To-morrow shall we visit you again.
Prin. Sweet health and fair desires consort your Grace!
178 King. Thy own wish wish I thee in every place! [Exit.
179 Biron. Lady, I will commend you to mine own heart.
180 Ros. Pray you, do my commendations; I would be
glad to see it.
Biron. I would you heard it groan.
183 Ros. Is the fool sick?
Biron. Sick at the heart.
185 Ros. Alack, let it blood.
Biron. Would that do it good?
Ros. My physic says ‘ay’.
Biron. Will you prick’t with your eye?
189 Ros. No point, with my knife.
190 Biron. Now, God save thy life!
Ros. And yours from long living!
192 Biron. I cannot stay thanksgiving. [Retiring.
Dum. Sir, I pray you, a word: what lady is that same?
194 Boyet. The heir of Alençon, Katharine her name.
195 Dum. A gallant lady. Monsieur, fare you well. [Exit.
Long. I beseech you a word: what is she in the white?
197 Boyet. A woman sometimes, an you saw her in the light.
Long. Perchance light in the light. I desire her name.
Boyet. She hath but one for herself; to desire that were a shame.
200 Long. Pray you, sir, whose daughter?
Boyet. Her mother’s, I have heard.
202 Long. God’s blessing on your beard!
Boyet. Good sir, be not offended.
She is an heir of Falconbridge.
205 Long. Nay, my choler is ended.
She is a most sweet lady.
207 Boyet. Not unlike, sir, that may be. [Exit Long.
208 Biron. What’s her name in the cap?
209 Boyet. Rosaline, by good hap.
210 Biron. Is she wedded or no?
Boyet. To her will, sir, or so.
212 Biron. You are welcome, sir: adieu.
213 Boyet. Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you. [Exit Biron.
Mar. That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord:
Not a word with him but a jest.
215 And every jest but a word.
Prin. It was well done of you to take him at his word.
Boyet. I was as willing to grapple as he was to board.
218 Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry.
And wherefore not ships?
No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips.
220 Mar. You sheep, and I pasture: shall that finish the jest?
221 Boyet. So you grant pasture for me. [Offering to kiss her.
Not so, gentle beast:
My lips are no common, though several they be.
Boyet. Belonging to whom?
To my fortunes and me.
224 Prin. Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, agree:
225 This civil war of wits were much better used
On Navarre and his book-men; for here ’tis abused.
227 Boyet. If my observation, which very seldom lies,
By the heart’s still rhetoric disclosed with eyes,
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.
230 Prin. With what?
Boyet. With that which we lovers entitle affected.
Prin. Your reason?
233 Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their retire
234 To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire:
235 His heart, like an agate, with your print impress’d,
Proud with his form, in his eye pride express’d:
His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,
Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be;
All senses to that sense did make their repair,
240 To feel only looking on fairest of fair:
Methought all his senses were lock’d in his eye,
As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy;
243 Who, tendering their own worth from where they were glass’d,
244 Did point you to buy them, along as you pass’d:
245 His face’s own margent did quote such amazes,
That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes.
247 I’ll give you Aquitaine, and all that is his,
An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss.
249 Prin. Come to our pavilion: Boyet is disposed.
250 Boyet. But to speak that in words which his eye hath disclosed.
I only have made a mouth of his eye,
By adding a tongue which I know will not lie.
Ros. Thou art an old love-monger, and speakest skilfully.
Mar. He is Cupid’s grandfather, and learns news of him.
255 Ros. Then was Venus like her mother; for her father is but grim.
Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches?
No.
What then, do you see?
Ros. Ay, our way to be gone.
You are too hard for me. [Exeunt.
Arm. Warble, child; make passionate my sense of hearing.
Moth. Concolinel. [Singing.
Arm. Sweet air! Go, tenderness of years; take this 005 key, give enlargement to the swain, bring him festinately hither: I must employ him in a letter to my love.
007 Moth. Master, will you win your love with a French brawl?
Arm. How meanest thou? brawling in French?
010 Moth. No, my complete master: but to jig off a tune at 011 the tongue’s end, canary to it with your feet, humour it with 012 turning up your eyelids, sigh a note and sing a note, sometime 013 through the throat, as if you swallowed love with singing 014 love, sometime through the nose, as if you snuffed up 015 love by smelling love; with your hat penthouse-like o’er the 016 shop of your eyes; with your arms crossed on your thin-belly doublet, like a rabbit on a spit; or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting; and keep not too 019 long in one tune, but a snip and away. These are complements, 020 these are humours; these betray nice wenches, that 021 would be betrayed without these; and make them men of note—do you note me?—that most are affected to these.
Arm. How hast thou purchased this experience?
024 Moth. By my penny of observation.
025 Arm. But O,—but O,—
Moth. ‘The hobby-horse is forgot.’
Arm. Callest thou my love ‘hobby-horse’?
Moth. No, master; the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your love perhaps a hackney. But have you forgot your 030 love?
Arm. Almost I had.
Moth. Negligent student! learn her by heart.
Arm. By heart and in heart, boy.
Moth. And out of heart, master: all those three I will 035 prove.
Arm. What wilt thou prove?
037 Moth. A man, if I live; and this, by, in, and without, 038 upon the instant: by heart you love her, because your heart cannot come by her; in heart you love her, because your 040 heart is in love with her; and out of heart you love her, being out of heart that you cannot enjoy her.
Arm. I am all these three.
Moth. And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all.
045 Arm. Fetch hither the swain: he must carry me a letter.
046 Moth. A message well sympathized; a horse to be ambassador for an ass.
Arm. Ha, ha! what sayest thou?
Moth. Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the 050 horse, for he is very slow-gaited. But I go.
Arm. The way is but short: away!
Moth. As swift as lead, sir.
053 Arm. The meaning, pretty ingenious?
Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow?
055 Moth. Minimè, honest master; or rather, master, no.
Arm. I say lead is slow.
057 You are too swift, sir, to say so:
Is that lead slow which is fired from a gun?
Arm. Sweet smoke of rhetoric!
He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that’s he:
I shoot thee at the swain.
060 Thump, then, and I flee. [Exit.
061 Arm. A most acute juvenal; volable and free of grace!
By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face:
063 Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place.
My herald is return’d.
065 Moth. A wonder, master! here’s a Costard broken in a shin.
066 Arm. Some enigma, some riddle: come, thy l’envoy; begin.
067 Cost. No egma, no riddle, no l’envoy; no salve in the 068 mail, sir: O, sir, plantain, a plain plantain! no l’envoy, no 069 l’envoy; no salve, sir, but a plantain!
070 Arm. By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly 071 thought my spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling. O, pardon me, my stars! Doth the 073 inconsiderate take salve for l’envoy, and the word l’envoy for a salve?
075 Moth. Do the wise think them other? is not l’envoy a salve?
076 Arm. No, page: it is an epilogue or discourse, to make plain
077 Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain.
078 I will example it:
The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
080 Were still at odds, being but three.
There’s the moral. Now the l’envoy.
Moth. I will add the l’envoy. Say the moral again.
Arm. The fox, the ape, the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.
085 Moth. Until the goose came out of door,
086 And stay’d the odds by adding four.
Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with my l’envoy.
The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
090 Were still at odds, being but three.
091 Arm. Until the goose came out of door,
Staying the odds by adding four.
Moth. A good l’envoy, ending in the goose: would you desire more?
095 Cost. The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose, that’s flat.
Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose be fat.
To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose:
Let me see; a fat l’envoy; ay, that’s a fat goose.
Arm. Come hither, come hither. How did this argument begin?
100 Moth. By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin.
101 Then call’d you for the l’envoy.
Cost. True, and I for a plantain: thus came your argument in;
Then the boy’s fat l’envoy, the goose that you bought;
And he ended the market.
105 Arm. But tell me; how was there a Costard broken in
a shin?
Moth. I will tell you sensibly.
Cost. Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth: I will speak
that l’envoy:
110 I Costard, running out, that was safely within,
Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin.
Arm. We will talk no more of this matter.
Cost. Till there be more matter in the shin.
114 Arm. Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee.
115 Cost. O, marry me to one Frances: I smell some l’envoy, some goose, in this.
Arm. By my sweet soul, I mean setting thee at liberty, enfreedoming thy person: thou wert immured, restrained, 118 captivated, bound.
120 Cost. True, true; and now you will be my purgation, 121 and let me loose.
122 Arm. I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance; and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this: bear this significant [giving a letter] to the country maid Jaquenetta: 125 there is remuneration; for the best ward of mine 126 honour is rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow. [Exit.
Moth. Like the sequel, I. Signior Costard, adieu.
128 Cost. My sweet ounce of man’s flesh! my incony Jew! [Exit Moth.
Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration! O, 130 that’s the Latin word for three farthings: three farthings— 131 remuneration.—‘What’s the price of this inkle?’—‘One 132 penny.’—‘No, I’ll give you a remuneration:’ why, it carries 133 it. Remuneration! why, it is a fairer name than French crown. I will never buy and sell out of this word.
135 Biron. O, my good knave Costard! exceedingly well met.
Cost. Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration?
138 Biron. What is a remuneration?
Cost. Marry, sir, halfpenny farthing.
140 Biron. Why, then, three-farthing worth of silk.
Cost. I thank your worship: God be wi’ you!
Biron. Stay, slave; I must employ thee:
143 As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave,
Do one thing for me that I shall entreat.
145 Cost. When would you have it done, sir?
Biron. This afternoon.
Cost. Well, I will do it, sir: fare you well.
Biron. Thou knowest not what it is.
Cost. I shall know, sir, when I have done it.
150 Biron. Why, villain, thou must know first.
Cost. I will come to your worship to-morrow morning.
Biron. It must be done this afternoon. Hark, slave, it is but this:
154 The princess comes to hunt here in the park,
155 And in her train there is a gentle lady;
When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name,
And Rosaline they call her: ask for her;
And to her white hand see thou do commend
159 This seal’d-up counsel. There’s thy guerdon; go. [Giving him a shilling.
160 Cost. Gardon, O sweet gardon! better than remuneration, 161 a ’leven-pence farthing better: most sweet gardon! I 162 will do it, sir, in print. Gardon! Remuneration! [Exit.
163 Biron. And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love’s whip;
165 A very beadle to a humorous sigh;
A critic, nay, a night-watch constable;
A domineering pedant o’er the boy;
168 Than whom no mortal so magnificent!
169 This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy;
170 This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid;
Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms,
The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
Liege of all loiterers and malcontents,
Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces,
175 Sole imperator and great general
Of trotting ’paritors:—O my little heart!—
177 And I to be a corporal of his field,
And wear his colours like a tumbler’s hoop!
179 What! I love! I sue! I seek a wife!
180 A woman, that is like a German clock,
Still a-repairing, ever out of frame,
182 And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watch’d that it may still go right!
Nay, to be perjured, which is worst of all;
185 And, among three, to love the worst of all;
186 A wightly wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch-balls stuck in her face for eyes;
Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed,
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard:
190 And I to sigh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty dreadful little might.
194 Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue and groan:
195 Some men must love my lady, and some Joan. [Exit.
Prin. Was that the king, that spurred his horse so hard
002 Against the steep uprising of the hill?
003 Boyet. I know not; but I think it was not he.
Prin. Whoe’er a’ was, a’ showed a mounting mind.
005 Well, lords, to-day we shall have our dispatch:
006 On Saturday we will return to France.
Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush
That we must stand and play the murderer in?
009 For. Hereby, upon the edge of yonder coppice;
010 A stand where you may make the fairest shoot.
011 Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot,
And thereupon thou speak’st the fairest shoot.
013 For. Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so.
014 Prin. What, what? first praise me, and again say no?
015 O short-lived pride! Not fair? alack for woe!
For. Yes, madam, fair.
Nay, never paint me now:
Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Here, good my glass, take this for telling true:
Fair payment for foul words is more than due.
020 For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.
Prin. See, see, my beauty will be saved by merit!
022 O heresy in fair, fit for these days!
023 A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.
But come, the bow: now mercy goes to kill,
025 And shooting well is then accounted ill.
Thus will I save my credit in the shoot:
027 Not wounding, pity would not let me do’t;
If wounding, then it was to show my skill,
That more for praise than purpose meant to kill.
030 And, out of question, so it is sometimes,
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes,
032 When, for fame’s sake, for praise, an outward part,
We bend to that the working of the heart;
As I for praise alone now seek to spill
035 The poor deer’s blood, that my heart means no ill.
Boyet. Do not curst wives hold that self-sovereignty
Only for praise sake, when they strive to be
Lords o’er their lords?
Prin. Only for praise: and praise we may afford
040 To any lady that subdues a lord.
Boyet. Here comes a member of the commonwealth.
042 Cost. God dig-you-den all! Pray you, which is the head lady?
045 Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads.
Cost. Which is the greatest lady, the highest?
Prin. The thickest and the tallest.
Cost. The thickest and the tallest! it is so; truth is truth.
049 An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit,
050 One o’ these maids’ girdles for your waist should be fit.
Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickest here.
Prin. What’s your will, sir? what’s your will?
Cost. I have a letter from Monsieur Biron to one Lady Rosaline.
Prin. O, thy letter, thy letter! he’s a good friend of mine:
055 Stand aside, good bearer. Boyet, you can carve;
Break up this capon.
I am bound to serve.
This letter is mistook, it importeth none here;
It is writ to Jaquenetta.
We will read it, I swear.
Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear.
060 Boyet [reads]. By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible; true, that thou art beauteous; truth itself, that thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal! The magnanimous and most 064 illustrate king Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate 065 beggar Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly say, Veni, vidi, 066 vici; which to annothanize in the vulgar,—O base and obscure 067 vulgar!—videlicet, He came, saw, and overcame: he came, one; saw, 068 two; overcame, three. Who came? the king: why did he come? to see: why did he see? to overcome: to whom came he? to the beggar: 070 what saw he? the beggar: who overcame he? the beggar. The conclusion 071 is victory: on whose side? the king’s. The captive is enriched: on whose side? the beggar’s. The catastrophe is a nuptial: on whose side? the king’s: no, on both in one, or one in both. I am the king; for so stands the comparison: thou the beggar; for so witnesseth 075 thy lowliness. Shall I command thy love? I may: shall I enforce thy love? I could: shall I entreat thy love? I will. What shalt thou exchange for rags? robes; for tittles? titles; for thyself? me. Thus, expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part. Thine, in the 080 dearest design of industry,Don Adriano de Armado.
Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar
’Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey.
Submissive fall his princely feet before,
And he from forage will incline to play:
085 But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then?
Food for his rage, repasture for his den.
087 Prin. What plume of feathers is he that indited this letter?
What vane? what weathercock? did you ever hear better?
Boyet. I am much deceived but I remember the style.
090 Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o’er it erewhile.
Boyet. This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps here in court;
092 A phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport
To the prince and his bookmates.
Thou fellow, a word:
Who gave thee this letter?
I told you; my lord.
Prin. To whom shouldst thou give it?
095 From my lord to my lady.
Prin. From which lord to which lady?
Cost. From my lord Biron, a good master of mine,
To a lady of France that he call’d Rosaline.
099 Prin. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, lords, away.
100 [To Ros.] Here, sweet, put up this: ’twill be thine another [Exeunt Princess and train.
101 Boyet. Who is the suitor? who is the suitor?
Shall I teach you to know?
Boyet. Ay, my continent of beauty.
Why, she that bears the bow.
Finely put off!
Boyet. My lady goes to kill horns; but, if thou marry,
105 Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry.
Finely put on!
Ros. Well, then, I am the shooter.
And who is your deer?
108 Ros. If we choose by the horns, yourself come not near.
Finely put on, indeed!
110 Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the brow.
Boyet. But she herself is hit lower: have I hit her now?
Ros. Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was a man when King Pepin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it?
115 Boyet. So I may answer thee with one as old, that was a woman when Queen Guinover of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit it.
Ros.
Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it,
119 Thou canst not hit it, my good man.
Boyet.
120 An I cannot, cannot, cannot,
121 An I cannot, another can. [Exeunt Ros. and Kath.
Cost. By my troth, most pleasant: how both did fit it!
123 Mar. A mark marvellous well shot, for they both did hit it.
Boyet. A mark! O, mark but that mark! A mark, says my lady!
125 Let the mark have a prick in’t, to mete at, if it may be.
Mar. Wide o’ the bow-hand! i’ faith, your hand is out.
Cost. Indeed, a’ must shoot nearer, or he’ll ne’er hit the clout.
Boyet. An if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in.
129 Cost. Then will she get the upshoot by cleaving the pin.
130 Mar. Come, come, you talk greasily; your lips grow foul.
Cost. She’s too hard for you at pricks, sir: challenge her to bowl.
Boyet. I fear too much rubbing. Good night, my good owl. [Exeunt Boyet and Maria.
Cost. By my soul, a swain! a most simple clown!
Lord, Lord, how the ladies and I have put him down!
135 O’ my troth, most sweet jests! most incony vulgar wit!
When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were, so fit.
137 Armado o’ th’ one side,—O, a most dainty man!
To see him walk before a lady and to bear her fan!
139 To see him kiss his hand! and how most sweetly a’ will swear!
140 And his page o’ t’ other side, that handful of wit!
141 Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical nit!
142 Sola, sola! [Shout-within. [Exit Costard, running.
Nath. Very reverend sport, truly; and done in the testimony of a good conscience.
003 Hol. The deer was, as you know, sanguis, in blood; ripe 004 as the pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear 005 of caelo, the sky, the welkin, the heaven; and anon falleth like a crab on the face of terra, the soil, the land, the earth.
Nath. Truly, Master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least: but, sir, I assure ye, it was a buck of the first head.
010 Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.
Dull. ’Twas not a haud credo; ’twas a pricket.
Hol. Most barbarous intimation! yet a kind of insinuation, as it were, in via, in way, of explication; facere, as it were, replication, or, rather, ostentare, to show, as it were, 015 his inclination, after his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or, rather, unlettered, or, ratherest, unconfirmed fashion, to insert again my haud credo for a deer.
Dull. I said the deer was not a haud credo; ’twas a pricket.
020 Hol. Twice-sod simplicity, bis coctus!
O thou monster Ignorance, how deformed dost thou look!
Nath. Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book;
he hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink:
024 his intellect is not replenished; he is only an animal, only
025 sensible in the duller parts:
026 And such barren plants are set before us, that we thankful should be,
Which we of taste and feeling are, for those parts that do 027 fructify in us more than he.
028 For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, or a fool,
029 So were there a patch set on learning, to see him in a school:
030 But omne bene, say I; being of an old father’s mind,
Many can brook the weather that love not the wind.
032 Dull. You two are book-men: can you tell me by your wit
What was a month old at Cain’s birth, that’s not five weeks old as yet?
034 Hol. Dictynna, goodman Dull; Dictynna, goodman Dull.
035 Dull. What is Dictynna?
036 Nath. A title to Phœbe, to Luna, to the moon.
Hol. The moon was a month old when Adam was no more,
038 And raught not to five weeks when he came to five-score.
The allusion holds in the exchange.
040 Dull. ’Tis true indeed; the collusion holds in the exchange.
Hol. God comfort thy capacity! I say, the allusion holds in the exchange.
044 Dull. And I say, the pollusion holds in the exchange; 045 for the moon is never but a month old: and I say beside that, ’twas a pricket that the princess killed.
047 Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph 048 on the death of the deer? And, to humour the ignorant, 049 call I the deer the princess killed a pricket.
050 Nath. Perge, good Master Holofernes, perge; so it 051 shall please you to abrogate scurrility.
Hol. I will something affect the letter, for it argues facility.
054 The preyful princess pierced and prickd a pretty pleasing pricket;
055 Some say a sore; but not a sore, till now made sore with shooting.
056 The dogs did yell: put L to sore, then sorel jumps from thicket;
Or pricket sore, or else sorel; the people fall a-hooting.
058 If sore be sore, then L to sore makes fifty sores one sorel.
Of one sore I an hundred make by adding but one more L.
060 Nath. A rare talent!
Dull. [Aside] If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him with a talent.
063 Hol. This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, 065 ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions: these are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb of 066 pia mater, and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion. But 068 the gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it.
070 Nath. Sir, I praise the Lord for you: and so may my parishioners; for their sons are well tutored by you, and their daughters profit very greatly under you: you are a good member of the commonwealth.
074 Hol. Mehercle, if their sons be ingenuous, they shall 075 want no instruction; if their daughters be capable, I will 076 put it to them: but vir sapit qui pauca loquitur; a soul feminine saluteth us.
078 Jaq. God give you good morrow, master Parson.
079 Hol. Master Parson, quasi pers-on. An if one 080 should be pierced, which is the one?
081 Cost. Marry, master schoolmaster, he that is likest to a hogshead.
083 Hol. Piercing a hogshead! a good lustre of conceit in a turf of earth; fire enough for a flint, pearl enough for a 085 swine: ’tis pretty; it is well.
086 Jaq. Good master Parson, be so good as read me this letter: it was given me by Costard, and sent me from Don Armado: I beseech you, read it.
089 Hol. Fauste, precor gelida quando pecus omne sub 090 umbra Ruminat,—and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan! I may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice;
092 Venetia, Venetia,
Chi non ti vede non ti pretia.
Old Mantuan, old Mantuan! who understandeth thee not, 095 loves thee not. Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa. Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? or rather, as Horace says in his— What, my soul, verses?
Nath. Ay, sir, and very learned.
099 Hol. Let me hear a staff, a stanze, a verse; lege, domine.
Nath. [reads]
100 If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love?
101 Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow’d!
102 Though to myself forsworn, to thee I’ll faithful prove;
103 Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bow’d.
Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes,
105 Where all those pleasures live that art would comprehend:
If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice;
Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend;
All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder;
Which is to me some praise that I thy parts admire:
110 Thy eye Jove’s lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder,
Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire.
112 Celestial as thou art, O, pardon love this wrong,
113 That sings heaven’s praise with such an earthly tongue.
Hol. You find not the apostrophas, and so miss the 115 accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here are only numbers ratified; but, for the elegancy, facility, and golden 117 cadence of poesy, caret. Ovidius Naso was the man: and why, indeed, Naso, but for smelling out the odoriferous 119 flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? Imitari is nothing: 120 so doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the tired horse his rider. But, damosella virgin, was this directed to you?
Jaq. Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Biron, one of the 123 strange queen’s lords.
125 Hol. I will overglance the superscript: ‘To the snow-white hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline.’ I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of 128 the party writing to the person written unto: ‘Your ladyship’s 129 in all desired employment, Biron.’ Sir Nathaniel, this 130 Biron is one of the votaries with the king; and here he hath framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger queen’s, which accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath miscarried. 133 Trip and go, my sweet; deliver this paper into the royal hand of the king: it may concern much. Stay not thy 135 compliment; I forgive thy duty: adieu.
Jaq. Good Costard, go with me. Sir, God save your life!
137 Cost. Have with thee, my girl. [Exeunt Cost. and Jaq.
Nath. Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very religiously; and, as a certain father saith,—
140 Hol. Sir, tell not me of the father; I do fear colourable colours. But to return to the verses: did they please you, Sir Nathaniel?
Nath. Marvellous well for the pen.
Hol. I do dine to-day at the father’s of a certain pupil 145 of mine; where, if, before repast, it shall please you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my privilege I 147 have with the parents of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake 148 your ben venuto; where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned, neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor 150 invention: I beseech your society.
Nath. And thank you too; for society, saith the text, is the happiness of life.
Hol. And, certes, the text most infallibly concludes it. [To Dull] Sir, I do invite you too; you shall not say 155 me nay: pauca verba. Away! the gentles are at their game, and we will to our recreation. [Exeunt.
001 Biron. The king he is hunting the deer; I am coursing 002 myself: they have pitched a toil; I am toiling in a pitch,— 003 pitch that defiles: defile! a foul word. Well, set thee down, sorrow! for so they say the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool: well proved, wit! By the Lord, this love is 005 as mad as Ajax: it kills sheep; it kills me, I a sheep: well 006 proved again o’ my side! I will not love: if I do, hang me; i’ faith, I will not. O, but her eye,—by this light, but for 009 her eye, I would not love her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, 010 I do nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By heaven, I do love: and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to 012 be melancholy; and here is part of my rhyme, and here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o’ my sonnets already: the clown bore it, the fool sent it, and the lady hath it: sweet 015 clown, sweeter fool, sweetest lady! By the world, I would not care a pin, if the other three were in. Here comes one 017 with a paper: God give him grace to groan! [Stands aside.
King. Ay me!
Biron. [Aside] Shot, by heaven! Proceed, sweet Cupid: 020 thou hast thumped him with thy bird-bolt under the left pap. In faith, secrets!
King [reads].
So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not
To those fresh morning drops upon the rose,
024 As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote
025 The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows:
Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright
Through the transparent bosom of the deep,
As doth thy face through tears of mine give light;
Thou shinest in every tear that I do weep:
030 No drop but as a coach doth carry thee;
So ridest thou triumphing in my woe.
Do but behold the tears that swell in me,
And they thy glory through my grief will show:
034 But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep
035 My tears for glasses, and still make me weep.
036 O queen of queens! how far dost thou excel,
No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell.
How shall she know my griefs? I’ll drop the paper:—
Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here? [Steps aside.
040 What, Longaville! and reading! Listen, ear.
Biron. Now, in thy likeness, one more fool appear!
Long. Ay me, I am forsworn!
043 Biron. Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers.
045 King. In love, I hope: sweet fellowship in shame!
Biron. One drunkard loves another of the name.
Long. Am I the first that have been perjured so?
Biron. I could put thee in comfort. Not by two that I know:
049 Thou makest the triumviry, the corner-cap of society.
050 The shape of Love’s Tyburn that hangs up simplicity.
Long. I fear these stubborn lines lack power to move.
O sweet Maria, empress of my love!
These numbers will I tear, and write in prose.
Biron. O, rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid’s hose:
055 Disfigure not his slop.
This same shall go. [Reads.
Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,
057 ’Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,
Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Vows for thee broke deserve not 059 punishment.
060 A woman I forswore; but I will prove,
Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee:
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly 062 love;
Thy grace being gain’d cures all disgrace in me.
Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour 064 is:
Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost 065 shine,
Exhalest this vapour-vow; in thee it 066 is:
If broken then, it is no fault of 067 mine:
If by me broke, what fool is not so wise
069 To lose an oath to win a paradise?
070 Biron. This is the liver-vein, which makes flesh a deity,
071 A green goose a goddess: pure, pure idolatry.
072 God amend us, God amend! we are much out o’ the way.
Long. By whom shall I send this?—Company! stay. [Steps aside.
Biron. All hid, all hid, an old infant play.
075 Like a demigod here sit I in the sky,
076 And wretched fools’ secrets heedfully o’er-eye.
077 More sacks to the mill! O heavens, I have my wish!
Dumain transform’d! four woodcocks in a dish!
Dum. O most divine Kate!
080 Biron. O most profane coxcomb!
081 Dum. By heaven, the wonder in a mortal eye!
082 Biron. By earth, she is not, corporal, there you lie.
083 Dum. Her amber hairs for foul hath amber quoted.
Biron. An amber-colour’d raven was well noted.
Dum. As upright as the cedar.
085 Stoop, I say;
Her shoulder is with child.
As fair as day.
Biron. Ay, as some days; but then no sun must shine.
Dum. O that I had my wish!
And I had mine!
089 King. And I mine too, good Lord!
090 Biron. Amen, so I had mine: is not that a good word?
Dum. I would forget her; but a fever she
Reigns in my blood, and will remember’d be.
Biron. A fever in your blood! why, then incision
Would let her out in saucers: sweet misprision!
095 Dum. Once more I’ll read the ode that I have writ.
Biron. Once more I’ll mark how love can vary wit.
097 Dum. [reads]
On a day—alack the day!—
098 Love, whose month is ever May,
Spied a blossom passing fair
100 Playing in the wanton air:
101 Through the velvet leaves the wind,
102 All unseen, can passage find;
103 That the lover, sick to death,
104 Wish himself the heaven’s breath.
105 Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow;
106 Air, would I might triumph so!
107 But, alack, my hand is sworn
108 Ne’er to pluck thee from thy thorn;
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet,
110 Youth so apt to pluck a sweet!
111 Do not call it sin in me,
That I am forsworn for thee;
113 Thou for whom Jove would swear
Juno but an Ethiope were;
115 And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love.
This will I send and something else more plain,
118 That shall express my true love’s fasting pain.
O, would the king, Biron, and Longaville,
120 Were lovers too! Ill, to example ill,
Would from my forehead wipe a perjured note;
For none offend where all alike do dote.
Long. [advancing]. Dumain, thy love is far from charity,
That in love’s grief desirest society:
125 You may look pale, but I should blush, I know,
126 To be o’erheard and taken napping so.
King [advancing]. 127 Come, sir, you blush; as his your case is such;
128 You chide at him, offending twice as much;
129 You do not love Maria; Longaville
130 Did never sonnet for her sake compile,
Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart
His loving bosom, to keep down his heart.
I have been closely shrouded in this bush
And mark’d you both and for you both did blush:
135 I heard your guilty rhymes, observed your fashion,
Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion:
137 Ay me! says one; O Jove! the other cries;
138 One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other’s eyes:
139 You would for paradise break faith and troth; [To Long.
140 And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath. [To Dum.
What will Biron say when that he shall hear
142 Faith infringed, which such zeal did swear?
How will he scorn! how will he spend his wit!
144 How will he triumph, leap and laugh at it!
145 For all the wealth that ever I did see,
I would not have him know so much by me.
147 Biron. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy. [Advancing.
Ah, good my liege, I pray thee, pardon me!
Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to reprove
150 These worms for loving, that art most in love?
151 Your eyes do make no coaches; in your tears
There is no certain princess that appears;
You’ll not be perjured, ’tis a hateful thing;
Tush, none but minstrels like of sonneting!
155 But are you not ashamed? nay, are you not,
All three of you, to be thus much o’ershot?
157 You found his mote; the king your mote did see;
But I a beam do find in each of three.
O, what a scene of foolery have I seen,
160 Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow and of teen!
O me, with what strict patience have I sat,
162 To see a king transformed to a gnat!
To see great Hercules whipping a gig,
164 And profound Solomon to tune a jig,
165 And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys,
166 And critic Timon laugh at idle toys!
Where lies thy grief, O, tell me, good Dumain?
And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain?
And where my liege’s? all about the breast:
170 A caudle, ho!
King. Too bitter is thy jest.
Are we betray’d thus to thy over-view?
172 Biron. Not you to me, but I betray’d by you:
I, that am honest; I, that hold it sin
To break the vow I am engaged in;
175 I am betray’d, by keeping company
176 With men like you, men of inconstancy.
When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme?
178 Or groan for love? or spend a minute’s time
179 In pruning me? When shall you hear that I
180 Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,
A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist,
A leg, a limb?—
Soft! whither away so fast?
A true man or a thief that gallops so?
Biron. I post from love: good lover, let me go.
Jaq. God bless the king!
185 What present hast thou there?
Cost. Some certain treason.
What makes treason here?
Cost. Nay, it makes nothing, sir.
If it mar nothing neither,
188 The treason and you go in peace away together.
Jaq. I beseech your Grace, let this letter be read:
190 Our parson misdoubts it; ’twas treason, he said.
191 King. Biron, read it over. [Giving him the paper.
Where hadst thou it?
Jaq. Of Costard.
King. Where hadst thou it?
195 Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. [Biron tears the letter.
196 King. How now! what is in you? why dost thou tear it?
Biron. A toy, my liege, a toy: your Grace needs not fear it.
Long. It did move him to passion, and therefore let’s hear it.
199 Dum. It is Biron’s writing, and here is his name. [Gathering up the pieces.
200 Biron. [To Costard] Ah, you whoreson loggerhead! you were born to do me shame.
201 Guilty, my lord, guilty! I confess, I confess.
King. What?
Biron. That you three fools lack’d me fool to make up the mess:
204 He, he, and you, and you, my liege, and I,
205 Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die.
O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more.
Dum. Now the number is even.
207 True, true; we are four.
Will these turtles be gone?
Hence, sirs; away!
209 Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay. [Exeunt Costard and Jaquenetta.
210 Biron. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O, let us embrace!
As true we are as flesh and blood can be:
212 The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face;
Young blood doth not obey an old decree:
214 We cannot cross the cause why we were born;
215 Therefore of all hands must we be forsworn.
King. What, did these rent lines show some love of thine?
217 Biron. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heavenly Rosaline,
That, like a rude and savage man of Inde,
At the first opening of the gorgeous east,
220 Bows not his vassal head and strucken blind
Kisses the base ground with obedient breast?
What peremptory eagle-sighted eye
Dares look upon the heaven of her brow,
That is not blinded by her majesty?
225 King. What zeal, what fury hath inspired thee now?
My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon;
She an attending star, scarce seen a light.
Biron. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Biron:
O, but for my love, day would turn to night!
230 Of all complexions the cull’d sovereignty
Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek;
Where several worthies make one dignity,
Where nothing wants that want itself doth seek.
Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,—
235 Fie, painted rhetoric! O, she needs it not:
To things of sale a seller’s praise belongs,
237 She passes praise; then praise too short doth blot.
A wither’d hermit, five-score winters worn,
Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye:
240 Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born,
And gives the crutch the cradle’s infancy:
O, ’tis the sun that maketh all things shine.
King. By heaven, thy love is black as ebony.
244 Biron. Is ebony like her? O wood divine!
245 A wife of such wood were felicity.
O, who can give an oath? where is a book?
That I may swear beauty doth beauty lack,
If that she learn not of her eye to look:
No face is fair that is not full so black.
250 King. O paradox! Black is the badge of hell,
251 The hue of dungeons and the school of night;
252 And beauty’s crest becomes the heavens well.
Biron. Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light.
254 O, if in black my lady’s brows be deck’d,
255 It mourns that painting and usurping hair
Should ravish doters with a false aspect;
And therefore is she born to make black fair.
258 Her favour turns the fashion of the days,
For native blood is counted painting now;
260 And therefore red, that would avoid dispraise,
Paints itself black, to imitate her brow.
262 Dum. To look like her are chimney-sweepers black.
Long. And since her time are colliers counted bright.
264 King. And Ethiopes of their sweet complexion crack.
265 Dum. Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light.
Biron. Your mistresses dare never come in rain,
267 For fear their colours should be wash’d away.
King. ’Twere good, yours did; for, sir, to tell you plain,
I ’ll find a fairer face not wash’d to-day.
270 Biron.I’ll prove her fair, or talk till doomsday here.
King.No devil will fright thee then so much as she.
Dum.I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear.
Long. Look, here’s thy love: my foot and her face see.
Biron. O, if the streets were paved with thine eyes,
275 Her feet were much too dainty for such tread!
276 Dum. O vile! then, as she goes, what upward lies
The street should see as she walk’d overhead.
King. But what of this? are we not all in love?
279 Biron. Nothing so sure; and thereby all forsworn.
280 King. Then leave this chat; and, good Biron, now prove
Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn.
Dum. Ay, marry, there; some flattery for this evil.
Long. O, some authority how to proceed;
Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the devil.
Dum. Some salve for perjury.
285 ’Tis more than need.
286 Have at you, then, affection’s men at arms.
Consider what you first did swear unto,
To fast, to study, and to see no woman;
289 Flat treason ’gainst the kingly state of youth.
290 Say, can you fast? your stomachs are too young;
And abstinence engenders maladies.
And where that you have vow’d to study, lords,
293 In that each of you have forsworn his book,
Can you still dream and pore and thereon look?
295 For when would you, my Lord, or you, or you,
Have found the ground of study’s excellence
Without the beauty of a woman’s face?
From women’s eyes this doctrine I derive;
They are the ground, the books, the academes
300 From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire.
301 Why, universal plodding prisons up
The nimble spirits in the arteries,
As motion and long-during action tires
304 The sinewy vigour of the traveller.
305 Now, for not looking on a woman’s face,
You have in that forsworn the use of eyes
And study too, the causer of your vow;
For where is any author in the world
309 Teaches such beauty as a woman’s eye?
310 Learning is but an adjunct to ourself
And where we are our learning likewise is
312 Then when ourselves we see in ladies’ eyes.
Do we not likewise see our learning there?
O, we have made a vow to study, lords,
315 And in that vow we have forsworn our books
For when would you, my liege, or you, or you,
In leaden contemplation have found out
318 Such fiery numbers as the prompting eyes
319 Of beauty’s tutors have enrich’d you with?
320 Other slow arts entirely keep the brain;
And therefore, finding barren practisers,
Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil:
But love, first learned in a lady’s eyes,
Lives not alone immured in the brain;
325 But, with the motion of all elements,
Courses as swift as thought in every power,
And gives to every power a double power,
Above their functions and their offices.
It adds a precious seeing to the eye;
330 A lover’s eyes will gaze an eagle blind;
A lover’s ear will hear the lowest sound,
332 When the suspicious head of theft is stopp’d:
Love’s feeling is more soft and sensible
Than are the tender horns of cockled snails;
335 Love’s tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste:
336 For valour, is not Love a Hercules,
Still climbing trees in the Hesperides?
338 Subtle as Sphinx; as sweet and musical
339 As bright Apollo’s lute, strung with his hair;
340 And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods
341 Make heaven drowsy with the harmony.
Never durst poet touch a pen to write
343 Until his ink were temper’d with Love’s sighs;
O, then his lines would ravish savage ears,
345 And plant in tyrants mild humility.
From women’s eyes this doctrine I derive:
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire;
They are the books, the arts, the academes,
That show, contain and nourish all the world:
350 Else none at all in ought proves excellent.
Then fools you were these women to forswear;
Or keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools.
For wisdom’s sake, a word that all men love;
354 Or for love’s sake, a word that loves all men;
355 Or for men’s sake, the authors of these women;
356 Or women’s sake, by whom we men are men;
357 Let us once lose our oaths to find ourselves,
Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths.
It is religion to be thus forsworn,
360 For charity itself fulfils the law,
And who can sever love from charity?
King. Saint Cupid, then! and, soldiers, to the field!
363 Biron. Advance your standards, and upon them, lords;
Pell-mell, down with them! but be first advised,
365 In conflict that you get the sun of them.
Long. Now to plain-dealing; lay these glozes by:
Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France?
King. And win them too: therefore let us devise
Some entertainment for them in their tents.
370 Biron. First, from the park let us conduct them thither;
Then homeward every man attach the hand
Of his fair mistress: in the afternoon
We will with some strange pastime solace them,
Such as the shortness of the time can shape;
375 For revels, dances, masks and merry hours
376 Forerun fair Love, strewing her way with flowers.
King. Away, away! no time shall be omitted
378 That will betime, and may by us be fitted.
379 Biron. Allons! allons! Sow’d cockle reap’d no corn;
380 And justice always whirls in equal measure:
Light wenches may prove plagues to men forsworn;
If so, our copper buys no better treasure. [Exeunt.
001 Hol. Satis quod sufficit.
002 Nath. I praise God for you, sir: your reasons at dinner have been sharp and sententious; pleasant without scurrility, 004 witty without affection, audacious without impudency, learned 005 without opinion, and strange without heresy. I did converse this quondam day with a companion of the king’s, who is intituled, nominated, or called, Don Adriano de Armado.
008 Hol. Novi hominem tanquam te: his humour is lofty, his discourse peremptory, his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, 010 his gait majestical, and his general behaviour vain, ridiculous, 011 and thrasonical. He is too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odd, as it were, too peregrinate, as I may call it.
013 Nath. A most singular and choice epithet. [Draws out his table-book.
Hol. He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer 015 than the staple of his argument. I abhor such fanatical phantasimes, such insociable and point-devise companions; 017 such rackers of orthography, as to speak dout, fine, when he should say doubt; det, when he should pronounce debt, —d, e, b, t, not d, e, t: he clepeth a calf, cauf; half, hauf; 020 neighbour vocatur nebour; neigh abbreviated ne. This is 021 abhominable,—which he would call abbominable: it insinuateth 022 me of insanie: ne intelligis, domine? to make frantic, lunatic.
024 Nath. Laus Deo, bene intelligo.
025 Hol. Bon, bon, fort bon, Priscian! a little scratched, ’twill serve.
026 Nath. Videsne quis venit?
Hol. Video, et gaudeo.
Arm. Chirrah! [To Moth.
030 Hol. Quare chirrah, not sirrah?
Arm. Men of peace, well encountered.
Hol. Most military sir, salutation.
Moth. [Aside to Costard] They have been at a great 034 feast of languages, and stolen the scraps.
035 Cost. O, they have lived long on the alms-basket of words. I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word; for thou art not so long by the head as honorificabilitudinitatibus: thou art easier swallowed than a flap-dragon.
Moth. Peace! the peal begins.
040 Arm. [To Hol.] Monsieur, are you not lettered?
Moth. Yes, yes; he teaches boys the horn-book. What is a, b, spelt backward, with the horn on his head?
Hol. Ba, pueritia, with a horn added.
045 Moth. Ba, most silly sheep with a horn. You hear his learning.
Hol. Quis, quis, thou consonant?
047 Moth. The third of the five vowels, if you repeat them; or the fifth, if I.
Hol. I will repeat them,—a, e, i,—
050 Moth. The sheep: the other two concludes it,—o, u.
051 Arm. Now, by the salt wave of the Mediterraneum, a sweet touch, a quick venue of wit,—snip, snap, quick and home! it rejoiceth my intellect: true wit!
Moth. Offered by a child to an old man; which is wit-old.
055 Hol. What is the figure? what is the figure?
Moth. Horns.
057 Hol. Thou disputest like an infant: go, whip thy gig.
Moth. Lend me your horn to make one, and I will whip 059 about your infamy circum circa,—a gig of a cuckold’s horn.
060 Cost. An I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst have it to buy gingerbread: hold, there is the very remuneration I had of thy master, thou halfpenny purse of wit, thou pigeon-egg of discretion. O, an the heavens were so pleased that thou wert but my bastard, what a 065 joyful father wouldst thou make me! Go to; thou hast it 066 ad dunghill, at the fingers’ ends, as they say.
Hol. O, I smell false Latin; dunghill for unguem.
068 Arm. Arts-man, preambulate, we will be singuled from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the 070 charge-house on the top of the mountain?
Hol. Or mons, the hill.
Arm. At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain.
Hol. I do, sans question.
074 Arm. Sir, it is the king’s most sweet pleasure and affection 075 to congratulate the princess at her pavilion in the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the afternoon.
Hol. The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable, congruent and measurable for the afternoon: the 080 word is well culled, chose, sweet and apt, I do assure you, sir, I do assure.
Arm. Sir, the king is a noble gentleman, and my familiar, 083 I do assure ye, very good friend: for what is inward 084 between us, let it pass. I do beseech thee, remember thy 085 courtesy; I beseech thee, apparel thy head: and among 086 other important and most serious designs, and of great import indeed, too, but let that pass: for I must tell thee, it will please his Grace, by the world, sometime to lean upon my poor shoulder, and with his royal finger, thus, dally with 090 my excrement, with my mustachio; but, sweet heart, let that pass. By the world, I recount no fable: some certain special honours it pleaseth his greatness to impart to Armado, a soldier, a man of travel, that hath seen the world; but let that pass. The very all of all is,—but, sweet heart, 095 I do implore secrecy,—that the king would have me present the princess, sweet chuck, with some delightful ostentation, or show, or pageant, or antique, or firework. Now, understanding that the curate and your sweet self are good at 099 such eruptions and sudden breaking out of mirth, as it 100 were, I have acquainted you withal, to the end to crave your assistance.
Hol. Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies. 103 Sir, as concerning some entertainment of time, some show 104 in the posterior of this day, to be rendered by our assistants, 105 at the king’s command, and this most gallant, illustrate, 106 and learned gentleman, before the princess; I say none so fit as to present the Nine Worthies.
Nath. Where will you find men worthy enough to present them?
110 Hol. Joshua, yourself; myself and this gallant gentleman, Judas Maccabæus; this swain, because of his great limb 112 or joint, shall pass Pompey the Great; the page, Hercules,—
Arm. Pardon, sir; error: he is not quantity enough for that Worthy’s thumb: he is not so big as the end of his club.
115 Hol. Shall I have audience? he shall present Hercules in minority: his enter and exit shall be strangling a snake; and I will have an apology for that purpose.
Moth. An excellent device! so, if any of the audience hiss, you may cry, “Well done, Hercules! now thou crushest 120 the snake!” that is the way to make an offence gracious, 121 though few have the grace to do it.
Arm. For the rest of the Worthies?—
Hol. I will play three myself.
Moth. Thrice-worthy gentleman!
125 Arm. Shall I tell you a thing?
Hol. We attend.
127 Arm. We will have, if this fadge not, an antique. I beseech you, follow.
Hol. Via, goodman Dull! thou hast spoken no word 130 all this while.
Dull. Nor understood none neither, sir.
132 Hol. Allons! we will employ thee.
133 Dull. I’ll make one in a dance, or so; or I will play
On the tabor to the Worthies, and let them dance the hay.
135 Hol. Most dull, honest Dull! To our sport, away! [Exeunt.
Prin. Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart,
If fairings come thus plentifully in:
003 A lady wall’d about with diamonds!
Look you what I have from the loving king.
005 Ros. Madam, came nothing else along with that?
Prin. Nothing but this! yes, as much love in rhyme
As would be cramm’d up in a sheet of paper,
008 Writ o’ both sides the leaf, margent and all,
That he was fain to seal on Cupid’s name.
010 Ros. That was the way to make his godhead wax,
011 For he hath been five thousand years a boy.
012 Kath. Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too.
013 Ros. You’ll ne’er be friends with him; a’ kill’d your sister.
Kath. He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy;
015 And so she died: had she been light, like you,
Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit,
017 She might ha’ been a grandam ere she died:
And so may you; for a light heart lives long.
Ros. What’s your dark meaning, mouse, of this light word?
020 Kath. A light condition in a beauty dark.
Ros. We need more light to find your meaning out.
Kath. You’ll mar the light by taking it in snuff;
Therefore I’ll darkly end the argument.
Ros. Look, what you do, you do it still i’ th’ dark.
025 Kath. So do not you, for you are a light wench.
Ros. Indeed I weigh not you, and therefore light.
Kath. You weigh me not?—O, that’s you care not for me.
028 Ros. Great reason; for ‘past cure is still past care.’
Prin. Well bandied both; a set of wit well play’d.
030 But, Rosaline, you have a favour too:
Who sent it? and what is it?
I would you knew:
An if my face were but as fair as yours,
My favour were as great; be witness this.
Nay, I have verses too, I thank Biron:
035 The numbers true; and, were the numbering too,
I were the fairest goddess on the ground:
I am compared to twenty thousand fairs.
O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter!
Prin. Any thing like?
040 Ros. Much in the letters; nothing in the praise.
041 Prin. Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion.
042 Kath. Fair as a text B in a copy-book.
043 Ros. ’Ware pencils, ho! let me not die your debtor,
My red dominical, my golden letter:
045 O that your face were not so full of O’s!
046 Kath. A pox of that jest! and I beshrew all shrows.
047 Prin. But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumain?
Kath. Madam, this glove.
Did he not send you twain?
049 Kath. Yes, madam, and, moreover,
050 Some thousand verses of a faithful lover,
051 A huge translation of hypocrisy,
Vilely compiled, profound simplicity.
053 Mar. This and these pearls to me sent Longaville:
The letter is too long by half a mile.
055 Prin. I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart
The chain were longer and the letter short?
Mar. Ay, or I would these hands might never part.
058 Prin. We are wise girls to mock our lovers so.
Ros. They are worse fools to purchase mocking so.
060 That same Biron I’ll torture ere I go:
O that I knew he were but in by the week!
How I would make him fawn, and beg, and seek,
And wait the season, and observe the times,
And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes,
065 And shape his service wholly to my hests,
066 And make him proud to make me proud that jests!
067 So perttaunt-like would I o’ersway his state,
That he should be my fool, and I his fate.
Prin. None are so surely caught, when they are catch’d,
070 As wit turn’d fool: folly, in wisdom hatch’d,
Hath wisdom’s warrant and the help of school,
072 And wit’s own grace to grace a learned fool.
Ros. The blood of youth burns not with such excess
074 As gravity’s revolt to wantonness.
075 Mar. Folly in fools bears not so strong a note
As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote;
Since all the power thereof it doth apply
To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity.
079 Prin. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.
080 Boyet. O, I am stabb’d with laughter! Where’s her Grace?
Prin. Thy news, Boyet?
Prepare, madam, prepare!
082 Arm, wenches, arm! encounters mounted are
Against your peace: Love doth approach disguised,
Armed in arguments; you’ll be surprised:
085 Muster your wits; stand in your own defence;
Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence.
Prin. Saint Denis to Saint Cupid! What are they
088 That charge their breath against us? say, scout, say.
089 Boyet. Under the cool shade of a sycamore
090 I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour;
When, lo! to interrupt my purposed rest,
Toward that shade I might behold addrest
093 The king and his companions: warily
I stole into a neighbour thicket by,
095 And overheard what you shall overhear;
096 That, by and by, disguised they will be here.
Their herald is a pretty knavish page,
That well by heart hath conn’d his embassage:
Action and accent did they teach him there;
100 ‘Thus must thou speak,’ and ‘thus thy body bear:’
And ever and anon they made a doubt
Presence majestical would put him out;
103 ‘For,’ quoth the king, ‘an angel shalt thou see;
Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously.’
105 The boy replied, ‘An angel is not evil;
I should have fear’d her, had she been a devil.’
With that, all laugh’d, and clapp’d him on the shoulder,
Making the bold wag by their praises bolder:
One rubb’d his elbow thus, and fleer’d and swore
110 A better speech was never spoke before;
Another, with his finger and his thumb,
Cried, ‘Via! we will do’t, come what will come;’
The third he caper’d, and cried, ‘All goes well;’
The fourth turn’d on the toe, and down he fell.
115 With that, they all did tumble on the ground,
With such a zealous laughter, so profound,
That in this spleen ridiculous appears,
118 To check their folly, passion’s solemn tears.
Prin. But what, but what, come they to visit us?
120 Boyet. They do, they do; and are apparell’d thus,
121 Like Muscovites or Russians, as I guess.
122 Their purpose is to parle, to court and dance;
123 And every one his love-feat will advance
Unto his several mistress, which they’ll know
125 By favours several which they did bestow.
Prin. And will they so? the gallants shall be task’d;
For, ladies, we will every one be mask’d;
And not a man of them shall have the grace,
Despite of suit, to see a lady’s face.
130 Hold, Rosaline, this favour thou shalt wear,
And then the king will court thee for his dear;
Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine,
So shall Biron take me for Rosaline.
134 And change you favours too; so shall your loves
135 Woo contrary, deceived by these removes.
Ros. Come on, then; wear the favours most in sight.
Kath. But in this changing what is your intent?
Prin. The effect of my intent is to cross theirs:
139 They do it but in mocking merriment;
140 And mock for mock is only my intent.
Their several counsels they unbosom shall
To loves mistook, and so be mock’d withal
Upon the next occasion that we meet,
With visages display’d, to talk and greet.
145 Ros. But shall we dance, if they desire us to’t?
Prin. No, to the death, we will not move a foot:
Nor to their penn’d speech render we no grace;
148 But while ’tis spoke each turn away her face.
149 Boyet. Why, that contempt will kill the speaker’s heart,
150 And quite divorce his memory from his part.
Prin. Therefore I do it; and I make no doubt
152 The rest will ne’er come in, if he be out.
There’s no such sport as sport by sport o’erthrown;
To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own:
155 So shall we stay, mocking intended game,
156 And they, well mock’d, depart away with shame. [Trumpets sound within.
157 Boyet. The trumpet sounds: be mask’d; the maskers come. [The Ladies mask.
Moth. All hail, the richest beauties on the earth!—
159 Boyet. Beauties no richer than rich taffeta.
160 Moth. A holy parcel of the fairest dames [The Ladies turn their backs to him.
That ever turn’d their—backs—to mortal views!
Biron. [Aside to Moth] Their eyes, villain, their eyes.
163 Moth. That ever turn’d their eyes to mortal views!—
Out—
164 Boyet. True; out indeed.
165 Moth. Out of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe
Not to behold—
Biron. [Aside to Moth] Once to behold, rogue.
Moth. Once to behold with your sun-beamed eyes,
—with your sun-beamed eyes—
170 Boyet. They will not answer to that epithet;
You were best call it ‘daughter-beamed eyes.’
Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings me out.
173 Biron. Is this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue! [Exit Moth.
174 Ros. What would these strangers? know their minds, Boyet:
175 If they do speak our language, ’tis our will
That some plain man recount their purposes:
177 Know what they would.
178 Boyet. What would you with the princess?
Biron. Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.
180 Ros. What would they, say they?
181 Boyet. Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.
Ros. Why, that they have; and bid them so be gone.
Boyet. She says, you have it, and you may be gone.
King. Say to her, we have measured many miles
185 To tread a measure with her on this grass.
Boyet. They say, that they have measured many a mile
187 To tread a measure with you on this grass.
Ros. It is not so. Ask them how many inches
Is in one mile: if they have measured many,
190 The measure then of one is easily told.
Boyet. If to come hither you have measured miles,
And many miles, the princess bids you tell
193 How many inches doth fill up one mile.
Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps.
Boyet. She hears herself.
195 How many weary steps,
Of many weary miles you have o’ergone,
Are number’d in the travel of one mile?
Biron. We number nothing that we spend for you:
Our duty is so rich, so infinite,
200 That we may do it still without accompt.
Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face,
That we, like savages, may worship it.
Ros. My face is but a moon, and clouded too.
King. Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do!
205 Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine,
Those clouds removed, upon our watery eyne.
Ros. O vain petitioner! beg a greater matter;
208 Thou now request’st but moonshine in the water.
209 King. Then, in our measure do but vouchsafe one change.
210 Thou bid’st me beg: this begging is not strange.
Ros. Play, music, then! Nay, you must do it soon. [Music plays.
212 Not yet! no dance! Thus change I like the moon.
King. Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged?
Ros. You took the moon at full, but now she’s changed.
215 King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man.
216 The music plays; vouchsafe some motion to it.
Ros. Our ears vouchsafe it.
But your legs should do it.
Ros. Since you are strangers, and come here by chance,
We’ll not be nice: take hands. We will not dance.
220 King. Why take we hands, then?
Only to part friends:
Curtsey, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends.
King. More measure of this measure; be not nice.
Ros. We can afford no more at such a price.
224 King. Prize you yourselves: what buys your company?
Ros. Your absence only.
225 That can never be.
Ros. Then cannot we be bought: and so, adieu;
Twice to your visor, and half once to you.
King. If you deny to dance, let’s hold more chat.
Ros. In private, then.
229 I am best pleased with that. [They converse apart.
230 Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee.
Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three.
232 Biron. Nay then, two treys, an if you grow so nice,
Metheglin, wort, and malmsey: well run, dice!
There’s half-a-dozen sweets.
Seventh sweet, adieu:
235 Since you can cog, I’ll play no more with you.
Biron. One word in secret.
Let it not be sweet.
Biron. Thou grievest my gall.
237 Gall! bitter.
Therefore meet. [They converse apart.
Dum. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?
Mar. Name it.
Fair lady,—
Say you so? Fair lord,—
240 Take that for your fair lady.
Please it you,
As much in private, and I’ll bid adieu. [They converse apart.
242 Kath. What, was your vizard made without a tongue?
Long. I know the reason, lady, why you ask.
Kath. O for your reason! quickly, sir; I long.
245 Long. You have a double tongue within your mask,
And would afford my speechless vizard half.
247 Kath. Veal, quoth the Dutchman. Is not ‘veal’ a calf?
Long. A calf, fair lady!
No, a fair lord calf.
Long. Let’s part the word.
No, I’ll not be your half:
250 Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox.
251 Long. Look, how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks!
Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so.
Kath. Then die a calf, before your horns do grow.
Long. One word in private with you, ere I die.
255 Kath. Bleat softly, then; the butcher hears you cry. [They converse apart.
Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen
257 As is the razor’s edge invisible,
Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen;
259 Above the sense of sense; so sensible
260 Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings
261 Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things.
Ros. Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off.
263 Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff!
264 King. Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits.
265 Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits. [Exeunt King, Lords, and Blackamoors.
Are these the breed of wits so wonder’d at?
Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff’d out.
Ros. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat.
269 Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout!
270 Will they not, think you, hang themselves to-night?
Or ever, but in vizards, show their faces?
This pert Biron was out of countenance quite.
273 Ros. O, they were all in lamentable cases!
The king was weeping-ripe for a good word.
275 Prin. Biron did swear himself out of all suit.
Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his sword:
No point, quoth I; my servant straight was mute.
Kath. Lord Longaville said, I came o’er his heart;
And trow you what he call’d me?
Qualm, perhaps.
Kath. Yes, in good faith.
280 Go, sickness as thou art!
Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps.
But will you hear? the king is my love sworn.
Prin. And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me.
Kath. And Longaville was for my service born.
285 Mar. Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on tree.
Boyet. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear:
Immediately they will again be here
In their own shapes; for it can never be
289 They will digest this harsh indignity.
Prin. Will they return?
290 They will, they will, God knows,
And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows:
Therefore change favours; and, when they repair,
Blow like sweet roses in this summer air.
Prin. How blow? how blow? speak to be understood.
295 Boyet. Fair ladies mask’d are roses in their bud;
296 Dismask’d, their damask sweet commixture shown,
297 Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.
Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do,
If they return in their own shapes to woo?
300 Ros. Good madam, if by me you’ll be advised,
Let’s mock them still, as well known as disguised:
Let us complain to them what fools were here,
Disguised like Muscovites, in shapeless gear;
And wonder what they were and to what end
305 Their shallow shows and prologue vilely penn’d,
And their rough carriage so ridiculous,
307 Should be presented at our tent to us.
Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand.
309 Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run o’er land. [Exeunt Princess, Rosaline, Katharine, and Maria.
310 King. Fair sir, God save you! Where’s the princess?
Boyet. Gone to her tent. Please it your Majesty
312 Command me any service to her thither?
King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word.
Boyet. I will; and so will she, I know, my lord. [Exit.
315 Biron. This fellow pecks up wit as pigeons pease,
316 And utters it again when God doth please:
He is wit’s pedler, and retails his wares
At wakes and wassails, meetings, markets, fairs;
And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know,
320 Have not the grace to grace it with such show.
This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve;
Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve;
323 A’ can carve too, and lisp: why, this is he
324 That kiss’d his hand away in courtesy;
325 This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice,
That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice
In honourable terms: nay, he can sing
328 A mean most meanly; and in ushering,
Mend him who can: the ladies call him sweet;
330 The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet:
331 This is the flower that smiles on every one,
332 To show his teeth as white as whale’s bone;
333 And consciences, that will not die in debt,
334 Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet.
335 King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart,
That put Armado’s page out of his part!
337 Biron. See where it comes! Behaviour, what wert thou
338 Till this madman show’d thee? and what art thou now?
King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day!
340 Prin. ‘Fair’ in ‘all hail’ is foul, as I conceive.
341 King. Construe my speeches better, if you may.
Prin. Then wish me better; I will give you leave.
343 King. We came to visit you, and purpose now
To lead you to our court; vouchsafe it then.
345 Prin. This field shall hold me; and so hold your vow:
346 Nor God, nor I, delights in perjured men.
King. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke:
348 The virtue of your eye must break my oath.
Prin. You nickname virtue; vice you should have spoke;
350 For virtue’s office never breaks men’s troth.
Now by my maiden honour yet as pure
352 As the unsullied lily I protest,
A world of torments though I should endure,
I would not yield to be your house’s guest;
355 So much I hate a breaking cause to be
356 Of heavenly oaths, vow’d with integrity.
King. O, you have lived in desolation here,
Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame.
Prin. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear;
360 We have had pastimes here and pleasant game:
A mess of Russians left us but of late.
King. How, madam! Russians!
Ay, in truth, my lord;
Trim gallants, full of courtship and of state.
Ros. Madam, speak true. It is not so, my lord:
365 My lady, to the manner of the days,
In courtesy gives undeserving praise.
We four indeed confronted were with four
368 In Russian habit: here they stay’d an hour,
And talk’d apace; and in that hour, my lord,
370 They did not bless us with one happy word.
I dare not call them fools; but this I think,
When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink.
373 Biron. This jest is dry to me. Fair gentle sweet,
374 Your wit makes wise things foolish: when we greet,
375 With eyes best seeing, heaven’s fiery eye,
By light we lose light: your capacity
Is of that nature that to your huge store
Wise things seem foolish and rich things but poor.
379 Ros. This proves you wise and rich, for in my eye,—
380 Biron. I am a fool, and full of poverty.
Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong,
It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.
Biron. O, I am yours, and all that I possess!
Ros. All the fool mine?
I cannot give you less.
385 Ros. Which of the vizards was it that you wore?
Biron. Where? when? what vizard? why demand you this?
Ros. There, then, that vizard; that superfluous case
That hid the worse, and show’d the better face.
King. We are descried; they’ll mock us now downright.
390 Dum. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest.
Prin. Amazed, my lord? why looks your highness sad?
392 Ros. Help, hold his brows! he’ll swound! Why look you pale?
Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy.
Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury.
395 Can any face of brass hold longer out?
396 Here stand I: lady, dart thy skill at me;
Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout;
Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance;
Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit;
400 And I will wish thee never more to dance,
Nor never more in Russian habit wait.
O, never will I trust to speeches penn’d,
Nor to the motion of a schoolboy’s tongue;
404 Nor never come in vizard to my friend;
405 Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper’s song!
Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise,
407 Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affectation,
Figures pedantical; these summer-flies
Have blown me full of maggot ostentation:
410 I do forswear them; and I here protest,
By this white glove,—how white the hand, God knows!—
Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express’d
In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes:
And, to begin, wench,—so God help me, la!—
415 My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.
Ros. Sans sans, I pray you.
Yet I have a trick
Of the old rage:—bear with me, I am sick;
I’ll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see:
Write, ‘Lord have mercy on us’ on those three;
420 They are infected; in their hearts it lies;
421 They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes;
These lords are visited; you are not free,
For the Lord’s tokens on you do I see.
Prin. No, they are free that gave these tokens to us.
425 Biron. Our states are forfeit: seek not to undo us.
Ros. It is not so; for how can this be true,
That you stand forfeit, being those that sue?
Biron. Peace! for I will not have to do with you.
Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend.
430 Biron. Speak for yourselves; my wit is at an end.
King. Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression
Some fair excuse.
The fairest is confession.
433 Were not you here but even now disguised?
King. Madam, I was.
And were you well advised?
King. I was, fair madam.
435 When you then were here,
What did you whisper in your lady’s ear?
King. That more than all the world I did respect her.
Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will reject her.
439 King. Upon mine honour, no.
Peace, peace! forbear:
440 Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.
King. Despise me, when I break this oath of mine.
Prin. I will: and therefore keep it. Rosaline,
What did the Russian whisper in your ear?
Ros. Madam, he swore that he did hold me dear
445 As precious eyesight, and did value me
446 Above this world; adding thereto, moreover,
That he would wed me, or else die my lover.
Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord
Most honourably doth uphold his word.
450 King. What mean you, madam? by my life, my troth,
I never swore this lady such an oath.
Ros. By heaven, you did; and to confirm it plain,
You gave me this: but take it, sir, again.
454 King. My faith and this the princess I did give:
455 I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.
Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear;
And Lord Biron, I thank him, is my dear.
What, will you have me, or your pearl again?
Biron. Neither of either; I remit both twain.
460 I see the trick on’t: here was a consent,
Knowing aforehand of our merriment,
To dash it like a Christmas comedy:
463 Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany,
Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick,
465 That smiles his cheek in years, and knows the trick
To make my lady laugh when she’s disposed,
Told our intents before; which once disclosed,
The ladies did change favours; and then we,
Following the signs, woo’d but the sign of she.
470 Now, to our perjury to add more terror,
We are again forsworn, in will and error.
472 Much upon this it is: and might not you [To Boyet.
Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue?
474 Do not you know my lady’s foot by the squier,
475 And laugh upon the apple of her eye?
And stand between her back, sir, and the fire,
Holding a trencher, jesting merrily?
478 You put our page out: go, you are allow’d;
Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud.
480 You leer upon me, do you? there’s an eye
481 Wounds like a leaden sword.
Full merrily
482 Hath this brave manage, this career, been run.
Biron. Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace! I have done.
484 Welcome, pure wit! thou part’st a fair fray.
485 Cost. O Lord, sir, they would know
Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no.
Biron. What, are there but three?
487 No, sir; but it is vara fine,
488 For every one pursents three.
And three times thrice is nine.
Cost. Not so, sir; under correction, sir; I hope it is not so.
490 You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir; we know what we know:
491 I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir,—
Biron. Is not nine.
Cost. Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount.
495 Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine.
Cost. O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, sir.
Biron. How much is it?
Cost. O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, 500 will show whereuntil it doth amount: for mine own part, I 501 am, as they say, but to parfect one man in one poor man, Pompion the Great, sir.
Biron. Art thou one of the Worthies?
504 Cost. It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompion 505 the Great: for mine own part, I know not the degree of the Worthy, but I am to stand for him.
Biron. Go, bid them prepare.
Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take some care. [Exit.
King. Biron, they will shame us: let them not approach.
510 Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord: and ’tis some policy
511 To have one show worse than the king’s and his company.
King. I say they shall not come.
Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o’errule you now:
514 That sport best pleases that doth least know how:
515 Where zeal strives to content, and the contents
Dies in the zeal of that which it presents:
Their form confounded makes most form in mirth,
517 When great things labouring perish in their birth.
Biron. A right description of our sport, my lord.
520 Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal 521 sweet breath as will utter a brace of words. [Converses apart with the King, and delivers him a paper.
Prin. Doth this man serve God?
Biron. Why ask you?
524 Prin. He speaks not like a man of God’s making.
525 Arm. That is all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch; for, I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical; too too vain, too too vain: but we will put it, as they say, 528 to fortuna de la guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, 529 most royal couplement! [Exit.
530 King. Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies. He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the Great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado’s page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Maccabæus:
534 And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive,
535 These four will change habits, and present the other five.
Biron. There is five in the first show.
King. You are deceived; ’tis not so.
Biron. ‘The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool and the boy:—
540 Abate throw at novum, and the whole world again
541 Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his vein.
542 King. The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain.
543 Cost. I Pompey am,—
You lie, you are not he.
Cost. I Pompey am,—
With libbard’s head on knee.
545 Biron. Well said, old mocker: I must needs be friends with thee.
Cost. I Pompey am, Pompey surnamed the Big,—
Dum. The Great.
Cost. It is, ‘Great,’ sir:—
Pompey surnamed the Great;
That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to sweat:
550 And travelling along this coast, I here am come by chance,
And lay my arms before the legs of 551 this sweet lass of France.
If your ladyship would say, ‘Thanks, Pompey,’ I had done.
553 Prin. Great thanks, Great Pompey.
Cost. ’Tis not so much worth; but I hope I was perfect:
555 I made a little fault in ‘Great.’
Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best Worthy.
Nath. When in the world I lived, I was the world’s commander;
By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might:
560 My scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander,—
Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right.
562 Biron. Your nose smells ‘no’ in this, most tender-smelling knight.
563 Prin. The conqueror is dismay’d. Proceed, good Alexander.
Nath. When in the world I lived, I was the world’s commander,—
565 Boyet. Most true, ’tis right; you were so, Alisander.
Biron. Pompey the Great,—
Cost. Your servant, and Costard.
Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.
Cost. [To Sir Nath.] O, sir, you have overthrown Alisander 570 the conqueror! You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds his poll-axe sitting on a close-stool, will be given to Ajax: he will be the ninth 573 Worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. [Nath. retires.] 574 There, an’t shall please 575 you; a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and 576 soon dashed. He is a marvellous good neighbour, faith, and a very good bowler: but, for Alisander,—alas, you see 578 how ’tis,—a little o’erparted. But there are Worthies a-coming 579 will speak their mind in some other sort.
580 Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey.
Hol.
581 Great Hercules is presented by this imp,
Whose club kill’d Cerberus, that 582 three-headed canis;
And when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp,
Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus.
Quoniam he seemeth in minority,
585 Ergo I come with this apology.
587 Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish. [Moth retires.
Judas I am,-
Dum. A Judas!
Hol. Not Iscariot, sir.
590 Judas I am, ycliped Maccabæus.
Dum. Judas Maccabæus dipt is plain Judas.
593 Biron. A kissing traitor. How art thou proved Judas?
Hol. Judas I am,—
595 Dum. The more shame for you, Judas.
Hol. What mean you, sir?
Boyet. To make Judas hang himself.
Hol. Begin, sir; you are my elder.
Biron. Well followed: Judas was hanged on an elder.
600 Hol. I will not be put out of countenance.
Biron. Because thou hast no face.
Hol. What is this?
Boyet. A cittern-head.
Dum. The head of a bodkin.
605 Biron. A Death’s face in a ring.
Long. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen.
607 Boyet. The pommel of Cæsar’s falchion.
Dum. The carved-bone face on a flask.
Biron. Saint George’s half-cheek in a brooch.
610 Dum. Ay, and in a brooch of lead.
Biron. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer.
And now forward; for we have put thee in countenance.
Hol. You have put me out of countenance.
Biron. False: we have given thee faces.
615 Hol. But you have out-faced them all.
Biron. An thou wert a lion, we would do so.
617 Boyet. Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go.
And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost thou stay?
Dum. For the latter end of his name.
620 Biron. For the ass to the Jude; give it him:—Jud-as, away!
Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.
Boyet. A light for Monsieur Judas! it grows dark, he may stumble. [Hol. retires.
623 Prin. Alas, poor Maccabæus, how hath he been baited!
625 Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles: here comes Hector in arms.
626 Dum. Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.
628 King. Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this.
Boyet. But is this Hector?
630 King. I think Hector was not so clean-timbered.
631 Long. His leg is too big for Hector’s.
Dum. More calf, certain.
633 Boyet. No; he is best indued in the small.
Biron. This cannot be Hector.
635 Dum. He’s a god or a painter; for he makes faces.
Arm. The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift,—
638 Dum. A gilt nutmeg.
Biron. A lemon.
640 Long. Stuck with cloves.
Dum. No, cloven.
642 Arm. Peace!—
The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;
645 A man so breathed, that certain he would fight; yea
From morn till night, out of his pavilion.
I am that flower,—
647 That mint.
That columbine.
650 Arm. Sweet Lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.
Long. I must rather give it the rein, for it runs against Hector.
Dum. Ay, and Hector’s a greyhound.
Arm. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet 653 chucks, beat not the bones of the buried: when he breathed, he was a man. But I will forward with my device. [To the Princess] 655 Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing.
Prin. Speak, brave Hector: we are much delighted.
Arm. I do adore thy sweet Grace’s slipper.
Boyet. [Aside to Dum.] Loves her by the foot.
Dum. [Aside to Boyet] He may not by the yard.
660 Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,—
661 Cost. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way.
Arm. What meanest thou?
Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest Troyan, the 665 poor wench is cast away: she’s quick; the child brags in her belly already: ’tis yours.
Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? thou shalt die.
Cost. Then shall Hector be whipped for Jaquenetta that 670 is quick by him, and hanged for Pompey that is dead by him.
Dum. Most rare Pompey!
Boyet. Renowned Pompey!
Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the Huge!
675 Dum. Hector trembles.
Biron. Pompey is moved. More Ates, more Ates! stir 677 them on! stir them on!
Dum. Hector will challenge him.
Biron. Ay, if a’ have no more man’s blood in’s belly 680 than will sup a flea.
Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee.
Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man: 683 I’ll slash; I’ll do it by the sword. I bepray you, let me borrow my arms again.
685 Dum. Room for the incensed Worthies!
Cost. I’ll do it in my shirt.
687 Dum. Most resolute Pompey!
688 Moth. Master, let me take you a button-hole lower. Do you not see Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What 690 mean you? You will lose your reputation.
Arm. Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat in my shirt.
Dum. You may not deny it: Pompey hath made the challenge.
695 Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will.
Biron. What reason have you for’t?
Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go woolward for penance.
699 Boyet. True, and it was enjoined him in Rome for want 700 of linen: since when, I’ll be sworn, he wore none but a dish-clout 701 of Jaquenetta’s, and that a’ wears next his heart for a 702 favour.
Mar. God save you, madam!
704 Prin. Welcome, Marcade;
705 But that thou interrupt’st our merriment.
706 Mar. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring
Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father—
Prin. Dead, for my life!
Mar. Even so; my tale is told.
710 Biron. Worthies, away! the scene begins to cloud.
Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath. I have 712 seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier. [Exeunt Worthies.
King. How fares your majesty?
715 Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night.
King. Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay.
Prin. Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious lords,
718 For all your fair endeavours; and entreat,
Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe
720 In your rich wisdom to excuse, or hide,
The liberal opposition of our spirits,
If over-boldly we have borne ourselves
In the converse of breath: your gentleness
Was guilty of it. Farewell, worthy lord!
725 A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue:
726 Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtain’d.
728 King. The extreme parts of time extremely forms
All causes to the purpose of his speed;
730 And often, at his very loose, decides
731 That which long process could not arbitrate:
And though the mourning brow of progeny
Forbid the smiling courtesy of love
734 The holy suit which fain it would convince;
735 Yet, since love’s argument was first on foot,
Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it
From what it purposed; since, to wail friends lost
738 Is not by much so wholesome-profitable
As to rejoice at friends but newly found.
740 Prin. I understand you not: my griefs are double.
741 Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief;
And by these badges understand the king.
For your fair sakes have we neglected time,
Play’d foul play with our oaths: your beauty, ladies,
745 Hath much deform’d us, fashioning our humours
Even to the opposed end of our intents:
And what in us hath seem’d ridiculous,—
748 As love is full of unbefitting strains;
All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain;
750 Form’d by the eye, and therefore, like the eye,
751 Full of strange shapes, of habits and of forms,
Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll
To every varied object in his glance:
Which parti-coated presence of loose love
755 Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
756 Have misbecomed our oaths and gravities,
Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested us to make. Therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
760 Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,
By being once false for ever to be true
762 To those that make us both,—fair ladies, you:
763 And even that falsehood, in itself a sin,
Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace.
765 Prin. We have received your letters full of love:
766 Your favours, the ambassadors of love;
And, in our maiden council, rated them
At courtship, pleasant jest and courtesy,
As bombast and as lining to the time:
770 But more devout than this in our respects
771 Have we not been; and therefore met your loves
In their own fashion, like a merriment.
Dum. Our letters, madam, show’d much more than jest.
Long. So did our looks.
We did not quote them so.
775 King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour,
Grant us your loves.
A time, methinks, too short
To make a world-without-end bargain in.
No, no, my lord, your grace is perjured much,
Full of dear guiltiness; and therefore this:—
780 If for my love, as there is no such cause,
You will do aught, this shall you do for me:
Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed
To some forlorn and naked hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world;
785 There stay until the twelve celestial signs
786 Have brought about the annual reckoning.
If this austere insociable life
Change not your offer made in heat of blood;
If frosts and fasts, hard lodging and thin weeds
790 Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,
But that it bear this trial, and last love;
Then, at the expiration of the year,
793 Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts,
And, by this virgin palm now kissing thine,
795 I will be thine; and till that instant shut
My woeful self up in a mourning house,
Raining the tears of lamentation
For the remembrance of my father’s death.
If this thou do deny, let our hands part,
800 Neither intitled in the other’s heart.
King. If this, or more than this, I would deny,
802 To flatter up these powers of mine with rest,
The sudden hand of death close up mine eye!
804 Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast.
805 Biron. And what to me, my love? and what to me?
806 Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rack’d,
807 You are attaint with faults and perjury:
Therefore if you my favour mean to get,
A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest,
810 But seek the weary beds of people sick.
Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me?
812 A wife?
A beard, fair health, and honesty;
With three-fold love I wish you all these three.
Dum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife?
815 Kath. Not so, my lord; a twelvemonth and a day
I’ll mark no words that smooth-faced wooers say:
Come when the king doth to my lady come;
Then, if I have much love, I’ll give you some.
Dum. I’ll serve thee true and faithfully till then.
820 Kath. Yet swear not, lest ye be forsworn again.
Long. What says Maria?
At the twelvemonth’s end
I’ll change my black gown for a faithful friend.
Long. I’ll stay with patience; but the time is long.
Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young.
825 Biron. Studies my lady? mistress, look on me;
Behold the window of my heart, mine eye,
What humble suit attends thy answer there:
828 Impose some service on me for thy love.
829 Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my Lord Biron,
830 Before I saw you; and the world’s large tongue
Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks,
Full of comparisons and wounding flouts,
833 Which you on all estates will execute
That lie within the mercy of your wit.
835 To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain,
And therewithal to win me, if you please,
Without the which I am not to be won,
You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day
Visit the speechless sick, and still converse
840 With groaning wretches; and your task shall be,
With all the fierce endeavour of your wit
To enforce the pained impotent to smile.
Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of death?
It cannot be; it is impossible:
845 Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
Ros. Why, that’s the way to choke a gibing spirit,
Whose influence is begot of that loose grace
Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools:
A jest’s prosperity lies in the ear
850 Of him that hears it, never in the tongue
Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears,
852 Deaf’d with the clamours of their own dear groans,
853 Will hear your idle scorns, continue then,
And I will have you and that fault withal;
855 But if they will not, throw away that spirit,
And I shall find you empty of that fault,
Right joyful of your reformation.
Biron. A twelvemonth! well; befall what will befall,
I’ll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital.
Prin. [To the King] Ay, sweet my Lord; and so I take 860 my leave.
King. No, madam; we will bring you on your way.
Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old play;
Jack hath not Jill: these ladies’ courtesy
Might well have made our sport a comedy.
865 King. Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a day,
And then ’twill end.
That’s too long for a play.
Arm. Sweet Majesty, vouchsafe me,—
868 Prin. Was not that Hector?
Dum. The worthy knight of Troy.
870 Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave. I am a votary; I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold the 872 plough for her sweet love three years. But, most esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled in praise of the owl and the cuckoo? it 875 should have followed in the end of our show.
King. Call them forth quickly; we will do so.
877 Arm. Holla! approach.
This side is Hiems, Winter, this Ver, the Spring; the one maintained by the owl, the other by the cuckoo. Ver, 880 begin.
Spring.
When daisies pied and violets blue
882 And lady-smocks all silver-white
883 And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
884 Do paint the meadows with delight,
885 The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
Cuckoo;
Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
890 When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,
And merry larks are ploughmen’s clocks,
When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,
And maidens bleach their summer smocks,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
895 Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
Cuckoo;
Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
Winter.
When icicles hang by the wall,
900 And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
903 When blood is nipp’d and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
905 Tu-whit;
Tu-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson’s saw,
910 And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian’s nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-whit;
915 Tu-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
917 Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs 918 of Apollo. You that way,—we this way. [Exeunt.
Dramatis Personæ. Biron is spelt ‘Berowne,’ Longaville ‘Longavill,’ in Q1 F1 Q2; Mercade ‘Marcade,’ in Qq Ff. Armado is written sometimes ‘Armatho.’ Mr Grant White suggests that Moth should be written ‘Mote,’ as it was clearly so pronounced. See note (vi). ‘Boyet’ is made to rhyme with ‘debt’ in V. 2. 334; ‘Longaville’ with ‘ill’ in iv. 3. 119, and with ‘mile’ in V. 2. 53; ‘Rosaline’ with ‘thine,’ iv. 3. 217. Costard, in the old stage directions, is called ‘Clown.’
Mason says, ‘I believe the title of this play should be ‘Love’s Labours Lost,’ but it is clear, from the form in which it is written in the running title of Qq F1 F2 ‘Loves Labour’s Lost,’ that the full name was intended to be ‘Love’s Labour is Lost.’ On the title pages however of Q1 and Q2 it is written respectively ‘Loues labors lost,’ and ‘Loues Labours lost.’ It is called by Meres (1598) ‘Love Labour Lost,’ and by Tofte ‘Love’s Labour Lost,’ which is in favour of the ordinary spelling.
As the scene through the play is in the King of Navarre’s park, and as it is perfectly obvious when the action is near the palace and when near the tents of the French princess, we have not thought it necessary to specify the several changes.
i. 1. 23. This is an instance of the lax grammar of the time which permitted the use of a singular pronoun referring to a plural substantive, and vice versa, as in The Two Noble Kinsmen, Act i. Sc. 1;
‘You cannot read it there; there, through my tears,
Like wrinkled pebbles in a glassy stream,
You may behold ’em.’
i. 1. 110. Singer says that in a copy of F1 which he used, the reading is ‘sit.’
i. 2. 86. There is probably an allusion in the words, ‘for she had a green wit,’ to the ‘green withes,’ with which Samson was bound. In Shakespeare’s time, ‘mote’ was frequently written ‘moth,’ as in iv. 3. 157 of this play, and in Much Ado about Nothing (ii. 3) the same variety of spelling gives rise to an obscure pun, ‘Note notes, forsooth, and nothing.’ Compare, also, As You Like It, iii. 3. 5.
ii. 1. 88. We have retained in this passage the reading of the first Quarto, ‘unpeeled,’ in preference to the ‘unpeopled’ of the second Quarto and the Folios, which is evidently only a conjectural emendation, and does not furnish a better sense than many other words which might be proposed. In the same way, in Act iii. Sc. 1, line 61, we have followed the first Quarto in reading ‘volable’ instead of ‘voluble,’ as it has direct reference to Moth’s last words ‘thump, then, and I flee,’ and is in better keeping with the Euphuistic language of the speaker.
In ii. 1. 114 sqq. the speakers are ‘Berowne’ and ‘Kather.’ in Q1. This is followed by Capell, who justifies it as follows: ‘When the King and his lords enter, the ladies mask, and continue mask’d ’till they go: Biron, while the letter is reading, seeks his mistress; accosts Catharine instead of her, finds his error, and leaves her: the King’s exit gives him an opportunity to make another attempt, and he then lights on the right but without knowing her; makes a third by enquiry, and is baffled in that too, for he describes Maria, and is told she is Catharine.’ In this and other scenes the characters are so confused in the old copies that they can be determined only by the context, in this play a very unsafe guide.
ii. 1. 212. In this line, as well as in iii. 1. 140, 142, &c. and iv. 3. 279, the ‘O’ is superfluous and appears to have crept into the text from the last letter of the stage direction ‘Bero.’ In the first instance in which this occurs the first Quarto stands alone, and the error is corrected in the second Quarto and the Folios, and we have therefore ventured to make the same correction in the other cases.
iii. 1. 186. As ‘wightly,’ in the sense of ‘nimble,’ has no etymological connection with ‘white,’ we have thought it best to retain the spelling which is least likely to mislead.
iv. 2. 27. Which we of taste and feeling are, for those... In Qq Ff this passage stands as follows: ‘which we taste and feeling, are for those parts that do fructify in us more than he,’ except that Q1 F4 put a comma after ‘taste’ and Q2 omits ‘do.’ Theobald, on Warburton’s suggestion, reads, ‘parts (which we taste and feel ingradare) that do, &c.’ Hanmer is the first to print it as verse, reading,
‘And such barren plants are set before us, that we thankful should be,
For those parts which we taste and feel do fructify in us more than he.’
Johnson proposes, ‘When we taste and feeling are for those parts, &c.’ Tyrwhitt conjectured, ‘Which we of taste and feeling are, &c.’ and is followed by Collier and several modern editors. This reading appears to make the best sense with the least alteration. In Collier MS. we find ‘which we having taste and feeling &c.’
iv. 2. 63, 70, 74. In Qq Ff these three speeches are incorrectly assigned to Nath., Hol. and Nath. respectively, whereas the third evidently belongs to Holofernes. Similarly the speeches beginning with lines 79, 83, 89, 99 are assigned to Nath. instead of Hol., and vice versâ line 99 which properly belongs to Nath. is given to Hol. Again 115–122 and 125–129 are given to Nath. in consequence of which ‘Sir Nathaniel,’ in line 129, was written ‘Sir Holofernes,’ a title to which the pedant had no claim. The mistake probably arose from the stage direction ‘Ped.’ being confounded with ‘Per.,’ that is, Person or Parson. Besides, in line 114, the ‘Ped.’ of F1 is changed in the later folios to ‘Pedro.’
iv. 3. 142. In Q1 this line stands at the top of the page. The catch-word on the preceding page is ‘Fayth,’ shewing that the word omitted, whatever it be, was not the first in the line.
iv. 3. 178. By the kind permission of the Duke of Devonshire, we have collated the copy of the first Quarto, which is in his Grace’s library, with that which is in the Capell collection. Besides the important difference mentioned in the foot-note, the following are found:
E. 3. (r) line 5, paper (Capell) p a d e r (Devonshire).
E. 3. (v) line 12, corporall (Capell) croporall (Devonshire).
I. 3. (r) line 22, then w i (Capell) then w (Devonshire).
iv. 3. 244. Theobald’s note is: ‘O word divine! This is the reading of all the editions that I have seen; but both Dr Thirlby and Mr Warburton concurred in reading (as I had likewise conjectured) O wood divine!’
‘Wood,’ however, is the reading of Rowe’s first edition. It was perhaps only a happy misprint, as it is altered to ‘word’ in the second.
iv. 3. 251. As ‘suiter’ was pronounced and sometimes written ‘shooter’ (iv. 1. 101), so probably ‘suit’ was sometimes written ‘shoote,’ a word easily corrupted into ‘schoole.’
iv. 3. 285. Although it is not necessary to omit a syllable on account of the metre, as Mr Sidney Walker seems to have thought, we have adopted one of his conjectures for the reason mentioned in note (ix). A similar error, which has hitherto escaped notice, seems to occur in iv. 2. 83, where the word ‘Of,’ which in the original MS. was part of the stage direction ‘Holof.’, has crept into the text. If this hypothesis be true, it follows that the frequently recurring error of ‘Nath.’ for ‘Hol.’ is not due to the author himself, but to an unskilful corrector.
iv. 3. 295. Mr Dyce omits lines 295–300, For when would you...true Promethean fire; and lines 308–315, For where is...forsworn our books, which are repeated in substance, and, to some extent verbatim, in the latter part of the speech.
There can be no doubt that two drafts of the speech have been blended together, and that the author meant to cancel a portion of it; but as there also can be no doubt that the whole came from his pen, we do not venture to correct the printer’s error. We would ‘lose no drop of the immortal man.’ The error is indeed a very instructive one. It goes to prove that the first Quarto was printed from the author’s original MS.; that the author had not made a ‘foul copy’ of his work; and that he had not an opportunity of revising the proof sheets as they passed through the press.
For the same reason we have retained V. 2. 805–810.
iv. 3. 341. We have here retained ‘make,’ because the inaccuracy is so natural, that it probably came from the pen of the author. It escaped correction in all the Quartos and Folios, as well as in Rowe’s and Pope’s editions.
v. 1. 24, 25. The reading which we have given in the text, and which had occurred to us before we discovered that Capell had hit upon nearly the same conjecture, comes nearer to the words and punctuation of the Quartos and Folios than Theobald’s, which, since his time, has been the received reading. Sir Nathaniel is not represented elsewhere as an ignoramus who would be likely to say ‘bone’ for ‘bene.’ Holofernes patronizingly calls him ‘Priscian,’ but, pedagogue-like, will not admit his perfect accuracy. ‘A little scratched’ is a phrase familiar to the schoolmaster, from his daily task of correcting his pupils’ ‘latines.’
Capell’s conjecture, given in his Notes, Vol. i. p. 44 of the Various Readings, is ‘Nath. Laus Deo bone intelligo. Hol. Bone! bon, fort bon; Priscian.’ In his printed text he follows Theobald.
Some corruption is still left in line 22: insanie: ne intelligis. Perhaps we should read insano fare: intelligis...
v. 1. 110. There is some corruption in this passage, which cannot with certainty be removed. In the subsequent scene five ‘worthies’ only are presented, viz. Hector by Armado, Pompey by Costard, Alexander by Nathaniel, Hercules by the Page, and Judas Maccabæus by Holofernes.
v. 2. 43. Johnson says ‘The former editions read Were pencils,’ and attributes the restoration of Ware to Hanmer. Mr Halliwell repeats the assertion. In reality, all the editions read Ware.
v. 2. 232. Mr Sidney Walker, in his Criticisms, Vol. ii. p. 153, remarks that, ‘and if (he means an if) is always in the old plays printed ‘and if.’ Here is an instance to the contrary. See also Mr Lettsom’s note, l. c. And, not an, seems to be printed in nine cases out of ten, whatever the following word be.
v. 2. 247. ‘Dutchman’ here, as usual, means ‘German.’ The word alluded to is ‘Viel,’ a word which would be likely to be known from the frequent use which the sailors from Hamburg or Bremen would have cause to make of the phrase ‘zu viel’ in their bargains with the London shopkeepers.
v. 2. 312. Mr Collier says that in some copies of Q1 ‘thither’ is omitted.
v. 2. 528. The modern editors who have followed Hanmer’s reading ‘della,’ in preference to Theobald’s ‘de la,’ have forgotten that Armado is a Spaniard, not an Italian.
Scene i. The king...park] See note (iii).
Biron] F2 F3 F4. Berowne Qq F1 and passim.
3: And...death] Put in the margin as spurious by Pope.
13: Academe] Q2 F2. Achademe Q1 F1. Academy F3 F4.
18: schedule] sedule Q1. scedule Q2 Ff.
23: oaths] oath Steevens. See note (iv).
keep it too] keepe it to Qq F1 keep them to F2. keep them too F3 F4.
27: bankrupt quite] bancrout quite Q1. bankerout Ff. banquerout Q2. quite restored by Pope, and again rejected by Theobald.
29: these] this Collier MS.
31: pomp] pome Q1.
62: feast...forbid] Theobald. fast...forbid Qq Ff. fast...fore-bid Theobald conj.
65: hard a keeping] hard-a-keeping Hanmer.
67: thus] Qq Ff. this Pope.
72: Why,] Pope. Why? Qq Ff. but] Q1. and Ff Q2.
77: of light] Qq F1. om. F2 F3 F4.
83: it was] was it Steevens.
87: base] bare S. Walker conj.
others’] other Rowe (ed. 1).
92: nought but fame;] nought: but feign; Warburton. nought but shame; Id. conj.
103: any] Qq Ff. an Pope.
106: in] on Capell.
new-fangled] new-spangled Grey conj.
shows] F3 F4. showes Qq F1 F2. earth Theobald. mirth S. Walker conj. Malone supposes a line to be lost after line 103.
108: So you, to study] Go you to study, Anon. conj. But you’ll to study, Lettsom conj.
to study] by study Collier MS.
109: Climb o’er the house to unlock the little gate] Q1 That were to climb o’er the house to unlock the gate Ff Q2. Climb o’er the house-top to unlock the gate Collier MS. That were to climb the house o’er to unlock the gate Grant White.
110: sit] Qq F2 F3 F4. fit F1. set Malone conj. See note (v).
114: I’ll keep what] I’ll keep to what Collier MS.
swore] F2 F3 F4. sworne Qq F1.
117: strict’st] F2 F3 F4. strictest Qq F1.
123: this penalty?] this? Steevens, reading On...this? as a verse.
127: Biron] Theobald. Qq Ff continue this line to Longaville.
gentility] gentletie Q1. garrulity Theobald conj. scurrility Staunton conj.
130: can possibly] Pope. can possible Q1. shall possibly Ff Q2.
136: bedrid] bedred Q1.
138: hither] rather Collier MS.
146: She] We Capell.
147: us all] us both Q2.
151: speak] Q1. break Ff Q2. plead Collier MS.
153: [Subscribes.] Subscribes and gives back the paper. Capell.
156: Other] Q1. others Ff Q2.
158: will last] last will S. Walker conj.
161: refined] Qq F1. conceited F2 F3 F4.
162: world’s] world’s Qq F1. world F2 F3 F4.
world’s...planted] world-new fashions flaunted Collier MS.
164: One whom] F2 F3 F4. on who Q1. one who F1 Q2.
176: fire-new] fire, new F1.
178: is] are Pope.
Enter......Costard] Malone. Enter a Constable with Costard with a letter. Qq Ff.
179: Duke’s] Qq Ff. King’s Theobald.
182: tharborough] farborough Q1.
191: heaven] having Theobald. haven Jackson conj. hearing Collier MS.
193: laughing] Capell. hearing Qq Ff.
194: and] om. Rowe (ed. 2).
197: climb] F3 F4. clime Qq F1 F2. chime Collier MS.
199: with the manner] with the manor Hanmer. in the manner Warburton.
205: it is] Qq F1. is F2 F3 F4. in Rowe (ed. 2).
220: true, but so] true: but so Qq Ff. true, but so, so Hanmer.
237: minnow] Qq Ff. minion or minim Anon. conj.
239, 241, 243: Me?...Me?...me?] Ff Q2. Mee?...Mee?...mee. Q1. Me...Me...me. Hanmer.
242: vassal] vessel Collier MS.
247: which] with, Theobald.
251: sweet] Qq F1. om. F2 F3 F4.
252: meed] need Warburton.
253: thy] Qq F1. the F2 F3 F4.
257: keep] Qq F2 F3 F4. keeper F1.
vessel] vassal Theobald.
260: Adriano] Qq. Adriana Ff.
271: I...I] It...I F2.
272, 273, 274: damsel] Q1, except in line 241 demsel. damosell Ff Q2.
287: [Exeunt...] Exeunt. F2 F3 F4. om. Qq F1.
288: good man’s hat] man’s good hat Capell conj. goodman’s hat Anon. conj.
290: Given to Constable in Collier MS.
293: prosperity] prosperie Q1.
294: till then, sit thee] Q1. untill then sit Ff Q2. untill then set thee Collier MS.
Scene ii.] Scene iii. Pope.
The same. Armado’s house. Pope. See note (iii).
Enter Armado...] Enter Armado a Braggart... F2.
10, 11, 16: senior] signeor Q1. signeur F1.
13: epitheton] F2 F3 F4. apethaton Q1. apathaton. F1 Q2.
22: Little pretty] Little! pretty Theobald.
23: apt] om. Q2.
27: ingenious] Q1 F4. ingenuous F1 Q2 F2 F3.
33: [Aside.] Hanmer.
the mere contrary] Qq F1. the clean contrary F2 F3 F4. contrary Hanmer.
36: Duke] King Theobald.
40: fitteth] Q1 fits Ff Q2.
48: do] Q1. om. Ff Q2.
51: here is] Q1. here’s Ff Q2.
ye’ll] Yele Q1. You’ll FF Q2.
51, 52: it is] is it Warburton.
55: [Aside. Hanmer.
87: My] Me Q2.
88: maculate] Q1 immaculate Ff Q2.
94: pathetical] poetical Collier MS.
97: blushing] F2 F3 F4. blush-in Qq F1.
107: very guilty] Qq Ff. guilty Rowe.
114: rational] irrational Hanmer.
115: [Aside.] Hanmer.
116: master] master deserves Hanmer.
117: love] F2 F3 F4. loue Qq. ioue F1.
120: Enter...] Enter Clown, Constable, and Wench. Qq Ff. Enter C., D., J. and Maid. Rowe.
122: suffer him to] Q1. let him Ff Q2.
123: a’] Q1. hee F1 Q2. he F2 F3 F4.
125: [Exit. Ff Q2. om. Q1.
133: that] Q1 F2 F3 F4. what F1 Q2.
138: Dull.] Theobald. Clo. Qq F1. om. F2 F3 F4.
[Exeunt D. and J.] Exeunt. Qq Ff.
139: Arm.] Ar. Q1. Clo. F1. Brag. Q2. Con. F2 F3 F4.
148: will fast] will be fast F2 F3 F4.
155: not] om. Q2.
too] Q1. om. Ff Q2.
words] wards Johnson conj.
163: was Samson] was Sampson Q1. Sampson was Ff Q2.
165: Solomon] F3 F4. Salomon Qq F1 F2.
169: duello] duella. Q1.
171: manager] Armiger Collier MS.
173: sonnet] Ff Qq. sonneteer Hanmer. sonneter Capell. a sonnet Amyot conj. sonnet-maker Collier MS. sonnets Grant White.
174: [Exit.] Q1. Exit Finis actus primus. F1 Q2. Finis actus primi. F2 F3 F4.
Act ii.] om. Q1. Actus secunda F1 F2. Actus secundus. Q2 F3 F4.
Enter...] Rowe. Enter the Princesse of France with three attending Ladies and three Lords. Qq Ff.
1: dearest] clearest Collier MS.
2: who] Qq F1. whom F2 F3 F4.
13: Prin.] F2 F3 F4. Queen. Qq F1.
Lord] L. Qq Ff.
beauty, though] thought Q2.
19: your wit in the praise] Qq F1. thus your wit in praise F2 F3 F4.
21: You ...] Prin. You ... F1 Q2.
25: to ’s seemeth] Qq Ff. to us seemeth Rowe (ed. 2). to us seems Pope.
32: Importunes] Importuous Q1.
34: visaged] Ff Q2. visage Q1.
36: [Exit B.] Dyce. Exit. Q1 F1 (after line 34).
37, 38: Printed as prose in Qq Ff. First as verse by Rowe (ed. 2).
39: First Lord. Lord Longaville] Capell. Lor. Longavill. Qq Ff.
you] ye Warburton.
40: Mar.] Rowe. 1 Lady. Qq Ff. Lord. Hanmer.
I know] I knew F2 F3 F4.
40–43: madam: at...solemnized In] Capell. madam at...solemnized. In Qq Ff.
43: In Normandy,] Mar. In Normandy Hanmer.
44: of sovereign parts] Ff Q2. of soveraigne peerelsse Q1. of— sovereign, peerless Malone conj. a sovereign pearl Steevens conj. of his sovereign peerless Jackson conj.
45: Well fitted in arts] Qq F1. Well fitted in the arts F2 F3 F4. In arts well fitted Grant White conj.
47, 48: gloss...gloss] glose ...glose Q1.
51: none spare] spare none Rowe (ed. 2).
52: merry mocking] merry-mocking Rowe.
55: Who...rest?] omitted by Rowe (ed. 1).
58: power to do most] powerful to do Hanmer.
60: he] she F1 Q2.
61: Alençon’s] Alansoes Qq F1. Alanzoes F2 F3 F4. Alanson’s Rowe.
64: these] the Q2.
65: if] Q1. as Ff Q2.
if...a truth] as...a youth Theobald conj.
69: his wit] Qq F1. wit F2 F3 F4.
76: voluble] valuable Rowe (ed. 2).
80: First Lord.] Lord. Q1. Ma. Ff Q2.
84: much] om. F2 F3 F4.
88: unpeeled] Q1. unpeopled Ff Q2. See note (vii).
89: [The Ladies mask. Capell.
90: Scene ii. Pope.
King.] Navar. Qq Ff.
...and Attendants] Rowe. om. Qq Ff.
93: wide] wild Reed (ed. 1803).
99: it; will] Capell. it will, Qq Ff. it’s will, Rowe (ed. 2).
105: And sin] Not sin Hanmer.
105, 106: And...sudden-bold] As one line in Q1.
114: Ros.] Rosa. Ff Q2. Kather. Q1. See note (viii).
115–117: As two verses ending then,...quick. in Capell.
116, 118, 120, 122, 124, 126: Ros.] Rosa, Ff Q3. Kath. Q1.
129: a] one Rowe (ed. 1)
134: the which] which Capell.
138: unsatisfied] but satisfied Q2.
142: repaid] repaie F1 Q2.
143: A] Q1. An Ff Q2.
demands] remembers Rowe.
144: On] Theobald. One Qq Ff.
a] Q1 F1 F2 F3. an Q2 F4.
147: father] fathers Q2.
158: And if] An if Delius conj.
167: I will] Q1. would I Ff Q2.
171: in] Ff Q2. within Q1.
174: fair] Q1. farther Ff Q2. free Collier MS.
176: shall we] Q1. we shall Ff Q2.
178: [Exit.] Qq Ff. [Exeunt King and his train. Capell.
179: mine own] Q2. my none Q1. my own Ff. my Capell.
179, 182, 184, 186, 188, 190: Biron.] Ber. Q1. Boy. Ff Q2.
180: Pray] Now, pray Capell, reading as verse.
183–192: Put in the margin as spurious by Pope.
183: fool] foole Q1. soule F1 Q2 F2. soul F3 F4.
189: No point,] No poynt, (in italics) Qq Ff. No, (rom.) point, (ital.) Capell.
192: Biron.] Ber. Qq F1. Bir. F2 F3 F4.
[Retiring.] Capell. [Exit. Qq Ff.
Enter Dumaine. Qq Ff.
194: Katharine] Singer (Capell conj.). Rosalin Qq Ff.
195: Enter Longavile. F2 F3 F4.
197: sometimes] sometime Q2.
an] and Q1. if Ff Q2.
197–203: A woman......offended.] Put in the margin by Pope.
202: on your] Qq. a your Ff.
205: Nay, my choler is ended] omitted by Pope.
207: Enter Berowne. Qq Ff.
208–226: What’s ... abused] Put in the margin by Pope.
209: Rosaline] Singer (Anon. N. and Q. conj.). Katherine Qq Ff.
212: You] Ff Q2. O you Q1. See note (ix).
213: [Exit Biron.] Q1. [Exit. Ff Q2. [The Ladies unmask. Capell.
218: Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry. Boyet. And...ships?] Rowe (ed. 2). Lady Ka. Two hot sheepes marie. Bo. And...shipps? Q1. La. Ma. Two hot sheeps marie: And wherefore not ships? Ff Q2. See note (viii).
221: [Offering...] Capell.
224: but, gentles, agree] Theobald. but gentles agree Qq Ff.
227, 229: Punctuated as in Theobald, observation (which...eyes. Deceave... Q1. observation (which...eyes) Deceive Ff Q2.
230–252: Prin. With-what?...lie.] Put in the margin by Pope.
233: did] Q1. doc Ff Q2.
their] the Q2.
234: thorough] through Q2.
240: feel only] feed on by Jackson conj.
243: where] Q1. whence Ff Q2.
244: point you] Q1. point out Ff Q2.
245: quote] Q2. coate Q1 F1 F2. coat F3 F4.
247: and] om. Q2.
249: disposed.] disposed— Warburton.
Act iii.] Actus Tertius. F1 Q2. Actus Tertia. F2 F3 F4. om. Q1.
Scene i.] Rowe. Scene ii. Capell, following Theobald, who continues Act i.
Enter Armado and Moth.] Enter Braggart and his boy. Q1. Enter Braggart and Boy: Song. Ff Q2.
7: Master] Q1. om. Ff Q2.
11: your] Q1. the Ff Q2.
12: eyelids] Q1. eye Ff Q2.
sometime] something Rowe (ed. 1). sometimes Pope.
13: as if] Theobald. if Qq Ff.
singing love, sometime] Theobald. singing love sometime Q1. singing, love sometime Ff Q2.
14: through the nose] F2 F3 F4. through: nose Qq F1.
16, 17: thin-belly] F3 F4. thinbellies Q1. thinbellie F1 Q2. thinebelly F2.
thin-belly doublet] thin belly-doublet Steevens. thin belly’s doublet Collier.
19 complements] ’complishments Hanmer.
21: them men of note—do you note me?—that] Hanmer. them men of note: do you note men that Qq Ff. the men of note: do you note men, that Theobald. them men of note (do you note men?) that Malone.
24: penny] Hanmer. penne Q1 F1 F2. pen Q2 F3 F4. paine Collier MS. ken Becket conj.
37: and this,] Theobald, (and this) Qq Ff.
without] out of Pope.
38, 39: by heart...by her] omitted by Rowe.
45: Arm.] Boy. Q2.
46: message] messenger Collier MS.
53: The] Q1. Thy Ff Q.
ingenious] ingenuous Q2.
57: so] so, so soon Johnson conj.
60: flee] fly Rowe.
61: volable] Q1. voluble Ff Q2.
free] fair Collier MS.
63: Most rude] moist-eyed Collier MS.
65: Scene ii. Pope.
65–121: Moth. A wonder...loose] Put in the margin by Pope.
66: come, thy] Qq F1. no F2 F3 F4.
66, 67: l’envoy; begin] Capell. lenvoy begin Qq Ff.
67, 68: in the mail] in thee male Qq F1. in the male F2 F3 F4. in the vale Johnson conj. in the matter Capell. à the mal Becket conj. in them all Knight (Tyrwhitt conj.).
68: O,] Q1 F3 F4. Or F1 Q2 F2.
plain] pline Q1.
69: no salve] Qq F1. or salve F2 F3 F4.
71: my lungs] thy lungs Edd. conj.
73: word] Qq F1. world F2 F3 F4.
76: page] Moth Rowe (ed. 1).
77: sain] saine Q1. faine F1 Q2 F2. fain F3 F4.
78–86: I will...four] omitted in Ff Q2.
86, 92: adding] making Collier MS.
91: Arm.] Qq F1 Pag. F2 F3 F4.
101: the] a F3 F4.
110: I Costard] Costard Warburton.
114: Sirrah Costard] Marry, Costard Knight conj. Sirrah Costard, marry, Collier MS.
118: immured] F2 F3 F4. emured Qq F1.
121: loose] be loose Collier MS.
122: set thee from] set thee free from Collier MS.
126: honour] Q1. honours Ff Q2.
128: Jew] jewel Warburton.
131: inkle] yncle Qq Ff.
One penny] i. d. Qq F1 F2. i. de. F3 F4. Five farthings Rowe (ed. 1). A penny Rowe (ed. 2).
132, 133: carries it. Remuneration!] Theobald, carries it remuneration Qq F1 F2. carries it’s remuneration F3 F4.
133: French] Q1. a French Ff Q2.
135: Scene iii. Pope.
138: What] O what Q1.
140: three-farthing worth] Q1. three farthings worth Ff Q2.
140, 142, 146, 148, 163: Each of these lines begins with O in Qq Ff. See note (ix).
143: win] om. Q2.
150: know] know it F3 F4.
154: princess] princes Q2.
159: [Giving ...shilling] Edd.
161: a ’leven-pence] a levenpence Qq Ff. elevenpence Rowe.
162: in print] in point Anon. conj. ap. Halliwell.
Gardon] Qq F1. guerdon F2 F3 F4.
163–168: Q1 prints as three lines ending whip...constable...magnificent; Ff Q2 as six lines ending love...whip...criticke...constable...boy...magnificent.
165: a humorous] an amorous Hanmer.
168: so] more Rowe.
169: wimpled] whimp’ring Hanmer.
170: senior-junior] Hanmer (Anon. conj. apud Theobald), signior Junios Qq Ff. signior Juno’s Rowe (ed. 2). signior Junio Pope. Signior Julio’s Upton conj.
dwarf] dwarfe F1.
Dan] Q1. Don Ff Q2.
177: field] file Theobald (Warburton).
179: What! I love! I sue!] What? I love! I sue! what? Hanmer. What? what? I love! I sue! Johnson. What? I! I love! I sue! Malone (Tyrwhitt conj.).
180: German clock] F2 F3 F4. Jermane Cloake Q1. Germane Cloake F1. Germaine Cloake Q2.
182: aright] right Capell.
being a] Qq F1. being but F2 F3 F4.
186: wightly] Edd. whitley Qq F1 F2. whitely F3 F4. witty Collier MS. whiteless Porson conj. See note (x).
194: sue and groan] F2 F3 F4. shue, grone Q1 F1. sue grone Q2. sue, watch, groan Lettsom conj.
Act iv.] Act iii. Theobald.
enter...] Enter the Princesse, a Forrester, her Ladyes, and her Lordes. Qq Ff.
2: uprising] unrising F2 F3 F4.
3: Boy.] Ff Q2. For. Q2.
6: on] ore Q1.
9: Hereby] Hardby Hanmer.
coppice] copse S. Walker conj.
11–40: I thank...lord] Put in the margin by Pope.
13: madam] om. F3 F4.
14: and again] Q1 and then again F1 Q2. then again F2 F3 F4.
22: fair] faith Collier MS.
23: fair] the F3 F4.
27: do’t] doote Q1.
32: for praise] to praise F2 F3 F4.
35: deer’s] Deere F2.
that] tho’ Warburton conj.
40: a] her Rowe.
42–52: God...will] Put in the margin by Pope.
49, 50: your waist...my wit...your waist] my waste...your wit...my waste Warburton.
49: my wit] your wit Johnson conj.
64: illustrate] illustrious Q2.
65: Zenelophon] Penelophon Collier.
66: annothanize] Qq F1. anatomize F2 F3 F4. annotanize Knight.
67: videlicet] is Capell.
saw] F2 F3 F4. see Qq F1.
saw] Rowe. see Qq Ff.
68: overcame] Q2 F3 F4. covercame Q1 F1 F2.
70: who overcame he?] Qq Ff. who overcame him? Rowe (ed. 1). whom overcame he? Hanmer.
71: the king’s] Q2 F3 F4. the king Q1 F1.
captive] captivitie Q2.
80: Adriano] Q2. Adriana Q1 Ff. Armado] F2 F3 F4. Armatho Qq F1.
87: feathers] feather F2 F3 F4.
92: phantasime] Qq F1. phantasme F2 F3 F4. phantasma Capell conj.
Monarcho] monorcho Q2.
Monarcho] mammuccio Hanmer. {Transcriber's Note: this linenote has been copied to this location from the original book's ADDENDA.}
99: lords] ladies Johnson conj.
100: Exeunt...] Exeunt. Ff Q2. om. Q1.
101–142: Who is... sola.] Put in the margin by Pope.
101: suitor...suitor] Steevens (Farmer conj.). shooter Qq Ff.
108: the] om. F2 F3 F4.
119: [Exit. Q1.
120: An] And Q1. om. Ff Q2.
121: [Exeunt R. and K.] Capell. [Exit. Ff. Q2.
123: hit it] F4. hit Qq F1 F2 F3.
129: pin] F2 F3 F4. is in Qq F1.
137: Armado o’ th’ one] Rowe (ed. 2). Armatho ath toothen Q1. Armathor ath to the F1 Q2. Armado ath to F2 F3 F4. Armado o’ th’ to Grant White.
139: After this line Collier MS. inserts Looking babies in her eyes his passion to declare.
140: o’ t’ other] at other Qq Ff.
of wit] of small wit Collier MS.
141: a most] F2 F3 F4. most Qq F1.
142: [Shout within.] F4. Shot within. Q1. Shoote within. F1. Shoote with him. Q2. Showte within. F2.
3: Hol.] Ped. Qq Ff.
sanguis, in blood] in sanguis, blood Capell.
4: the] Q1. a Ff Q2.
24: animal] animal, not to think Collier MS.
26, 27: Printed as prose in Qq Ff, first as verse by Hanmer.
27: Which we of taste and feeling are, for those...] See note (xi).
do] Q1 Ff. om. Q2.
28: indiscreet] indistreell Q1.
29: see] set Collier MS.
32: me] Q1. om. Ff Q2.
34: Dictynna] Rowe. Dictisima Q1 F1 F2 F3. Dictissima Q2 F4. Doctissime...Dictynna Collier MS.
35: Dictynna] Dictinna F2 F3 F4. Dictima Qq F1.
36: title] tittle F2.
38: raught] rought Q1. wrought Ff Q2.
44: pollusion] Q2 F3 F4. polusion Q1 F1 F2. pollution Rowe (ed. 2).
47: epitaph] epigram Capell conj. MS.
48: ignorant] ignorault Q1.
49: call I] Edd. call’d Qq Ff. I have call’d Rowe. I will call Singer. I call Collier MS.
a] the Q2.
51: scurrility] squirilitie Q1.
54: preyful] prayfull Qq F1. praysfull F2.
54–59: Printed as twelve lines in Qq Ff.
56, 58: L] ell Qq Ff.
56: jumps] jumpt Pope.
58: one sorel] Edd. o sorell Q1. O sorell Q2 Ff. of sorel Warburton. O sore L Capell.
63: Hol.] Nath. Qq Ff. See note (xii).
66, 67: pia mater] Rowe. primater Qq Ff.
68: in whom] whom Q1.
70: my] our Rowe (ed. i).
74: ingenuous] Q2 F3 F4. ingenous Q1. ingennous F1 F2. ingenious Capell.
76: sapit] Q2 F2 F3 F4. sapis Q1 F1.
78: parson] F2 F3 F4. person Qq F1.
79: pers-on] pers-one Steevens.
79–85: Put in the margin by Pope.
81: likest] Ff Q2. liklest Q1.
83: Piercing] Edd. Of persing Qq Ff. See note (xvii).
lustre] cluster F3 F4.
86: Parson] Qq Ff.
89: Fauste, precor gelida quando pecus omne] F2 F3 F4. Facile precor gellida quando pecas omnia Q1 F1. Facile precor gleida quando peccas omnia Q2.
92, 93: Venetia,.....ti.....ti pretia] Edd. (from Florio’s ‘Second Frutes.’) Vinegia...te...ei non te pregia Theobald. Vemchie, vencha, que non te vnde, que non te perreche Q1 F1. Vemchie, vencha...perroche Q2. Vemchie, vencha...piaech F2 F3 F4, Rowe, Pope.
95: loves thee not] Q1. om. Ff Q2.
99: stanze] F1 Q2. stauze Q1. stanza F2 F3 F4.
101: Ah] O ‘Passionate Pilgrim.’
102: faithful] constant Ib.
103: were] like Ib.
105: would] can Ib.
110: bears] seems Ib.
112: pardon love this] do not love that Ib.
113: That sings] To sing Ib. That sings the S. Walker conj.
115: canzonet] Theobald. cangenet Qq Ff.
115–122: Here...you] Theobald continues to Holofernes. In Qq Ff they are given to Nathaniel.
117: caret] carent Nicholson conj.
119: invention? imitari] Theobald. invention imitarie Qq Ff. invention? imitating Collier MS.
120: tired] tyred Qq Ff. try’d Theobald. ’tired Capell. trained Heath conj.
123, 124: one of the strange queen’s lords] to one of the strange queen’s ladies Theobald.
125–129: I will...Biron] given to Nathaniel in Qq Ff. See note (xii).
128: writing] Rowe. written Qq Ff.
129: in] it Q2.
Sir Nathaniel] Capell. Sir Holofernes Qq Ff. om. Theobald.
129–135: Given to Dull by Rowe.
133: royal] om. Ff Q2.
137: [Exeunt...] Exit. Qq Ff.
145: before] Q1. being Ff Q2.
repast] request Heath conj.
147: or] Qq F1 F2. and F3 F4.
148: ben venuto] Rowe (ed. 2). bien venuto Q1 F2 F3 F4. bien vonuto F1 Q2. bien venu too Edd conj.
Scene iii.] Scene iv. Pope. Act iv. Capell.
1: he] om. Rowe (ed. 2).
2: a pitch] pitch Hanmer.
3: set] Qq Ff. sit Hanmer.
5: and I the fool] and ay the fool Grant White, am I the fool Anon. conj.
6: I a sheep] ay a sheep Grant White.
9: love her] love Rowe (ed. 2).
12, 13: melancholy] mallichollie Qq Ff.
17: [Stands aside.] [retiring. Capell, and at line 21 [Gets up into a tree. id.
24: smote] smot Qq Ff.
25: night of dew] Qq Ff. dew of night Singer (Musgrave conj.).
34: wilt] will Q1.
36: dost thou] Qq Ff. thou dost Singer (Collier MS.).
43: perjure] perjurd F2.
49: triumviry] Rowe (ed. 2). triumphery Qq F1 F2. triumphry F3 F4. triumvirate Rowe (ed. 1).
55: slop] Theobald. shop Qq Ff. shape Egerton MS.
57: cannot] could not ‘Passionate Pilgrim.’
59: deserve] deserves Q2.
62: earthly] earthy F3 F4.
64: Vows are but breath] My vow was breath ‘Passionate Pilgrim.’
65: which on my earth dost] that on this earth doth Ib.
66: Exhalest] Exhale Ib.
67: If broken then,] Q1 Ff. If broken, then Q2 ‘Passionate Pilgrim.’
69: lose] F4. loose Qq F1 F2 F3. breake ‘Passionate Pilgrim.’
71: idolatry] ydotarie Q1.
72: God amend!] God amend us! Collier MS.
[Enter Dumaine. Qq Ff.
76: fools’] souls’ S. Walker conj.
77: [Enter Dumaine, with a paper.] Dyce.
81: wonder] woonder Q1.
in] Q1. of Ff Q2.
82: not, corporal] but corporal Theobald. most corporal Collier MS.
83: hairs] hair Capell conj.
for foul...quoted] fourfold...coated] Jackson conj.
hath] have Rowe.
quoted] coted Qq Ff.
85, 86: Stoop...child. As one line in Qq Ff. Corrected by Theobald.
89: I] Johnson. om. Qq Ff.
97: [reads] reads his sonnet Qq Ff.
98: month is ever May] Q1. month is every May Ff Q2. every month is May Anon conj.
is] was ‘England’s Helicon.’
101: velvet leaves the] velvet, leaves the Qq F1 F2 F3. velvet leaves, the F4.
102: can] ’gan Theobald, gan ‘England’s Helicon’ and ‘the Passionate Pilgrim.’
103 lover] shepheard ‘England’s Helicon.’
104: Wish] Qq F1. wish’d F2 F3 F4. ‘Passionate Pilgrim.’
105: may blow] to blow F3 F4.
106: Air.] Ah! Johnson conj.
107: alack] alas ‘Passionate Pilgrim,’ and ‘England’s Helicon.’
is] hath Ib.
108: thorn] Rowe (ed. 2) (from ‘England’s Helicon’), throne Qq Ff, ‘Passionate Pilgrim.’
111, 112: Do...thee] om. ‘Passionate Pilgrim,’ and ‘England’s Helicon.’
113: Thou] Thee Singer.
whom Jove] whom ev’n Jove Rowe (ed. 2). whose love Jove S. Walker conj. (withdrawn). whom great Jove Collier MS.
118: fasting] fest’ring Theobald conj. lasting Capell.
126: o’erheard] ore-hard Q1.
127: you blush;] do, blush; Capell conj. blush you: Collier MS. your blush: S. Walker conj.
128: chide] chid F2.
129: Maria:] Maria? Qq F1 F2. Maria, F3 F4.
137: Ay] Ah Rowe (ed. 1).
138: One, her] One her Q1. On her F1 Q2. Her F2 F3 F4. One’s S. Walker conj.
139: [To Long.] Johnson.
140: [To Dum.] Johnson.
142: Faith] Qq F1. A faith F2 F3 F4. Of faith or Faith so, or Such faith S. Walker conj. Faiths Delius conj. See note (xiii).
zeal] a zeal F2.
144: leap] geap Warburton.
145: I] eye Capell conj.
147: [Advancing.] Coming from his tree. Capell.
150: art] Qq F1. are F2 F3 F4.
151: coaches; in] Hanmer. coaches in Rowe (ed. 2). couches in Qq Ff. loaches in Grey conj.
157: mote...mote] Rowe. moth...moth Qq Ff.
162: gnat] knot Theobald. sot Johnson conj. knott Collins conj. quat Becket conj.
164: to tune] Q1. tuning Ff Q2.
166: toys] toyles Q2.
170: caudle] Q1. candle Ff Q2.
172: to me...by you] Capell. by me...to you Qq Ff. by me...by you Theobald.
176: men like you, men of inconstancy] Dyce (S. Walker conj.). men like men of inconstancy Qq F1. men, like men of strange inconstancy F2 F3 F4 (strang F2). vane-like men of strange inconstancy Hanmer (Warburton). moon-like men of strange inconstancy Steevens (Mason conj.). men, like men of such inconstancy Tieck conj. men-like women of inconstancy Collier conj. men like you, men all inconstancy Lettsom conj. men like women for inconstancy Anon. conj.
178: love] Love Q1. (Duke of Devonshire’s copy). Ione Q1. Ioane Qq F1 F2. Joan F3 F4. See note (xiv).
179–182: In pruning......limb?] Printed as prose in Qq Ff, corrected by Rowe (ed. 2).
185: present] presentment Singer. peasant Collier MS.
[Offering a paper. Capell.
188: away] om. F2 F3 F4.
190: parson] person Qq Ff.
’twas] Q1. it was Ff Q2.
191: [Giving...paper.] Capell. [He reads the letter. Qq Ff.
195: [Biron...letter.] Capell.
196: is in] Qq F1 F2. mean F3 F4.
199: [Gathering...] Capell.
201: lord] liege Capell (corrected in MS.).
204: and you, and you] and you Reed (1803).
207, 208: True...gone?] Printed as one line in Qq Ff.
209: [Exeunt...] Exit. F2. om. Q1 F1.
212: show] shew Q1. will shew Ff Q2.
214: were] Q1 F3 F4. are F1 Q2 F2.
217: quoth you] om. Capell.
220: strucken] F4. strooken Qq F1 F2 F3.
237: then] and Capell.
244: wood] Rowe (ed. 1). word Qq Ff. See note (xv).
250: Black is] Black as F3 F4.
251: school] F3 F4. schoole Qq F1. F2. scowl Theobald (Warburton). stole Hanmer (Theobald conj.). soul Thirlby conj. soil Dyce conj. shade Collier MS. scroll, shroud, or seal Halliwell conj. suit Edd. conj. See note (xvi).
252: Given to Biron by Hanmer.
crest] dress Hanmer. crete Warburton. craye Edwards conj. cresset Becket conj. best Collier MS.
254: brows] brow F4.
255: and] F4. om. Qq F1. an F2 F3.
usurping] usurped Hanmer.
258: the days] these days Collier MS.
262: black] blake Q1.
264: crack] Q2 F3 F4. crake Q1 F1 F2.
sweet] swart Anon. conj.
267: their] her Q2.
276: lies] lyes? Qq Ff.
279: Nothing] F2 F3 F4. O nothing Qq F1. See note (ix).
285: ’Tis] S. Walker conj. O Id. conj. O tis Qq Ff. See note (xvii).
286: affection’s men] affections men Qq F1 F2. affections, men F3 F4.
289: ’gainst] against Q2.
293: have] hath Rowe (ed. 2).
295: See note (xviii).
301: prisons] Theobald. poysons Qq Ff.
304: sinewy] sinnowy Qq Ff.
309: beauty] duty Warburton. learning Collier MS.
312, 313: eyes, Do] F2 F3 F4. eyes With our selves Do Qq F1.
318: numbers] notions Hanmer.
319: beauty’s] beautis Q1. beauties Ff. Q2. beauteous Hanmer.
332: head] hand Griffith conj. heed Anon. conj.
theft] thrift Theobald.
335: dainty Bacchus] F2 F3 F4. dainty, Bacchus Qq. F1.
336: valour] savour Theobald. flavour Griffith conj.
338: Sphinx] a Sphinx F3 F4.
339: This line printed twice in F2.
340: speaks,......gods] speaks (the voice of all) the gods Tyrwhitt conj.
340, 341: the voice......heaven] the voice makes all the gods Of heaven Farmer conj.
341: Make] Makes Hanmer. Mark, Theobald (Warburton). Wakes drowsy heaven Becket conj. Wakes heaven, drowsy Jackson conj. See note (xix).
the] its Steevens conj.
343: sighs] tears Griffith conj.
345: humility] humanity Griffith conj.
354: that loves all men] that moves all men Hanmer. all women love Warburton. that joyes all men Heath conj. that leads all men Mason conj.
355: men’s] man’s Anon. conj.
authors] Capell. author Qq Ff.
women] words Farmer conj.
356: Or] For Warburton conj. transposing lines 355, 356.
women’s] womans F4.
357: Let us] F2 F3 F4. Lets us Q1. Let’s F1 Q2.
357, 358: lose...lose] F4. loose...loose Qq F1 F2 F3.
363: standards] standars Q1.
365: conflict] conflish F2.
376: her] his Capell conj.
378: betime] Rowe (ed. 2) be time Qq Ff. betide Staunton conj.
379: Allons! allons] Theobald (Warburton). Alone, alone Qq Ff.
Act v.] Actus Quartus Ff Q2.
1: quod] Rowe. quid Qq Ff.
2: sir] om. Q2.
4: affection] Qq F1. affectation F2 F3 F4.
8: hominem] F3 F4. hominum Qq F1 F2.
tanquam] tanquem Rowe.
11: picked] piqued Becket conj.
13: [Draws...] F3 F4. Draw... Qq F1 F2.
17: orthography] ortagriphie Q1 F1. ortographie Q2. ortagriphy F2. ortagraphy F3 F4.
21: he] we F3 F4.
abbominable] Q1. abhominable F1 F2. abominable F3 F4.
22: me] Qq Ff. to me Hanmer. men Farmer conj. one Collier MS.
insanie] Theobald (Warburton conj.). infamie Qq Ff. insanity Warburton. insanire S. Walker conj. insania Collier MS.
ne] nonne Johnson conj.
22: make] be mad Johnson conj. wax Dyce conj.
24: bene] bone Theobald.
25: Bon, bon, fort bon, Priscian!] Edd. bome boon for boon prescian; Qq Ff. Bone?—bone for bene; Priscian Theobald. See note (xx).
scratched] scratcht Qq F1. scarch F2 F3. search F4. scratch Pope.
26: Scene ii. Pope.
34: stolen] stole F2 F3 F4.
the] om. Q2.
47: third] Theobald. last Qq Ff.
51: wave] wane Q1.
57: disputest] F4. disputes Qq F1. disputes’t F2 F3.
59: circum circa] Theobald. unum cita Qq Ff. manu cita Anon. conj.
66, 67: dunghill...dunghill] dungil...dunghel Qq F1 F2 F3. dunghil...dunghel F4.
68: preambulate] Edd. preambulat Qq Ff. prœambula Theobald.
singuled] Q1. singled Ff Q2.
70: charge-house] church-house Theobald conj. large house Collier MS.
74: most] om. Q2.
80: chose] Qq F2. choise F2. choice F3 F4.
you] om. Q2.
83: very] my very Rowe.
84: remember] refrain Capell. remember not Malone.
thy] my Jackson conj.
86: important] importunt Q1. importunate Ff Q2.
95: secrecy] F2 F3 F4. secretie Q1. secrecie F1 Q2. secretly Rowe.
99: breaking out] breakings-out Capell.
103: Sir] Rowe. Sir Holofernes Qq Ff. Sir [To Nathaniel.] Hanmer. Sir Nathaniel Capell.
104: rendered] rended Q1.
assistants] Qq Ff. assistance Heath conj.
105: at] om. Qq F1. at F2 F3 F4.
106: gentleman] gentleman’s Capell conj.
110: myself and] om. Rowe. myself or Capell. myself David Nicholson conj. See note (xxi).
gentleman] man Theobald.
112: pass] pass for Capell. pass as Edd. conj.
the page] and the page Rowe.
121: do] know Hanmer.
127: antique. I beseech you] antick, I beseech you, to Collier MS.
132: Allons] alone Qq Ff.
133, 134: Printed as verse first by Dyce (S. Walker conj.).
133: or I will] or will F3 F4.
Scene ii.] Scene iii. Pope. Act v. Scene i. Capell.
3, 4: These two lines to be transposed. S. Walker conj.
3: A lady] All ladies Lettsom conj.
8: o’] a Q1. on Ff Q2.
11: years] yeare Q1.
12: shrewd] shrowd Q1.
13: ne’er] neare Q1.
17: ha’] a Qq F1 F2. have F3 F4.
a grandam] Grandam Q1.
28: cure...care] Theobald (Thirlby conj.). care...cure Qq Ff.
41: as] om. Rowe.
42: B] R Collier MS.
43: ’Ware] See note (xxii).
pencils] Rowe. pensalls Q1. pensals F1. pensils Q2 F2 F3 F4.
ho!] Hanmer. How? Qq Ff.
45: not so] Q1. om. Ff Q2.
46: Kath.] Theobald. Prin. QQ Ff.
I] om. Capell.
beshrew] beshrow Q1.
47: Katharine,] om. S. Walker conj.
to you from fair] you from Ritson conj.
49: moreover] sent moreover Capell.
51: hypocrisy] apocrypha Warburton conj. (withdrawn).
53: pearls] pearle Q1.
58: mock...so] make...sport Anon. conj.
so] for’t Theobald.
65: wholly to my hests] Dyce (S. Walker conj.). wholly to my device Qq F1. all to my behests F2 F3 F4.
65, 66: hests...jests] behest...jest Capell conj. MS.
66: that] Qq F1. with F2 F3 F4.
67: perttaunt-like] Q1. pertaunt-like Ff Q2. pedant-like Theobald. portent-like Hanmer. pageant-like Capell. scoffingly Douce conj. potent-like Singer. potently Collier MS. persaunt-like Grant White. pert-taunt-like Anon. conj.
70: fool:] Q1 F4. foole? F1 Q2 F2 F3.
72: own] one Q2.
74: wantonness] F3 F4. wantonesse F2. wantons be Qq F1.
79: is] Q1. om. Ff Q2.
80: stabb’d] stable Q1.
82: encounters] encounterers Collier MS.
88: their breath] the breach Collier MS.
89: sycamore] siccamone Q1.
93: companions: warily] Ff Q2. companions warely, Q1.
96: they] thy Q1.
103: shalt] shall F2.
118: folly, passion’s solemn] Theobald. follie pashions solembe Q1. folly passions solemne F1 Q2. folly passions, solemn F2 F3 F4. folly, passions, solemn Pope. folly with passion’s solemn Hanmer. folly, passions sudden Collier MS. folly’s passion, solemn Staunton conj.
120: After this line S. Walker thinks a line may have been lost.
121: as] Qq F1. or F2. and F3 F4.
122: parle, to] Capell. parlee, to Qq F1 F2. parlee F3 F4.
123: love-feat] Q1 Ff. love-seat Q2. love-suit Dyce (S. Walker conj.).
134: you] Q1. your Ff Q2.
too] two Q1.
139: mocking merriment] Ff Q2. mockerie merement Q1.
148: her] F2 F3 F4. his Qq F1.
149: speaker’s] Q1. keepers Ff Q2.
152: ne’er] ne’re F2 F3 F4. ere Qq F1.
156: Trumpets...] Sound Trom. Q1. Sound. Ff Q2.
157: Enter...] Enter Black-moores with musicke, the Boy with a speach, and the rest of the Lords disguysed. Qq Ff.
159: Boyet.] Theobald. Berow. Q1. Ber. F1 Q2. Bir. F2 F3 F4.
160: The Ladies...] This stage direction, printed in Roman type, comes after line 162 in Qq Ff.
163: ever] even Q1.
164: Boyet.] Qq F1. Bir. F2 F3 F4.
165: spirits] Qq F1. spirit F2 F3 F4.
170: Boyet.] Qq F1. Bir. F2 F3 F4.
173: [Exit Moth.] Moth withdraws. Capell. om. Qq Ff.
174: strangers] stranges Q1.
175: they] thy F2.
177: would.] Pope. would? Qq Ff.
178: princess] F4. princes Qq F1 F2 F3.
181, 182: These two lines omitted in Rowe (ed. 1).
185: her on this] Q1. you on the Ff Q2.
187: this] the Rowe (ed. 2).
193: doth] do Johnson.
208: request’st] Theobald. requests Qq Ff.
209: do but vouchsafe] Q1. vouchsafe but Ff Q2.
212: Not yet! no dance!] Not yet no dance: QQ Ff. Not yet? no dance? Pope. Not yet? no dance: Hanmer.
215: King. Yet...man] omitted by Capell (Theobald conj.).
the man] to man it Jackson conj.
216: The music...] given to Rosaline in Qq Ff, corrected by Theobald.
220: we] Q1. you Ff Q2.
224: Prize] F4. Prise Qq F1 F2 F3. Price Rowe (ed. 1).
you yourselves] Q1. yourselves F1 Q2. yourselves then F2 F3 F4.
229, 237, 241: [They converse apart.] Capell.
232: an] Q1 F1. and Q2 F2 F3 F4. See note (xxiii).
237: Gall! bitter] Gall, bitter Q1 Ff. Gall bitter Q2. Gall’s bitter Hanmer.
240: Take that] Q1. take you that Ff Q2.
242, 244, 247, 248, 249, 253, 255: Kath.] Rowe. Mar. Qq Ff.
247: Veal] See note (xxiv).
251: butt] but to F2 F3 F4.
257: invisible] invincible Theobald.
259: sense; so sensible] Punctuated thus by Pope. sence so sensible, Q1 sence so sensible: Ff Q2.
261: bullets] om. Capell.
263: pure] pure pure Capell.
264: Farewell] Adieu Capell.
265: Exeunt...] Exeunt. F1, after line 264. om. Q1.
269: wit, kingly-poor] wit, kingly poor Qq Ff. wit, kill’d by pure Collier MS. wit, stung by poor Singer. wit, poor-liking Staunton conj.
273: O] F2 F3 F4. om. Qq F1 I (for Ay) Edd. conj.
275: suit] sooth or truth Grey conj.
289: digest] Qq F1 F4. disgest F2 F3.
295: their] the Warburton.
296, 297: Dismask’d...blown] Or angel-veiling clouds: are roses blown, Dismaskt,...shewn Theobald (Warburton conj.). Or angels veil’d in clouds;...shewn Warburton.
297: Are...blown] Are angels, (val’d the clouds)...blown Becket conj. Are angels veil’d in clouds of roses blown Peck conj.
vailing] Ff Q2. varling Q1.
307: tent] tents Capell conj.
309: roes run o’er] roes runs ore Q1. roes runnes ore F1 Q2 F2. roes runs ore the F3. roes run o’er the F4. roes run over Steevens.
Scene vii. Pope. Act v. Theobald.
Re-enter...] Enter the King and the rest. Qq Ff.
312: thither], Q1. om. Ff Q2. See note (xxv).
315: pecks] Q1. pickes Ff Q2.
pigeons] pigeon Rowe.
316: God] Q1. Jove Ff Q2.
323: A’] A Q1. He Ff Q2.
324: his hand away] Q1. away his hand Ff Q2.
328: meanly] manly Rowe (ed. 2). mainly Pope.
331: flower that] fleerer Theobald conj. (withdrawn).
332: whale’s] whales Qq F1. whale his F2 F3 F4.
333: not] om. F4.
334: due] Q1. dutie F1. duty Q2. F2 F3 F4.
337: it] he Collier MS.
337–342: See...leave] Put in the margin by Pope.
338: madman] man Theobald.
341: Construe...speeches] Consture...spaches Q1.
343: Scene viii. Pope.
came] come Pope.
346: delights] delight Rowe.
348: must break] makes break Hanmer. made break Warburton conj.
350: men’s] F3 F4. mens Q1. men F1 Q2 F2.
352: unsullied] F2 F3 F4. unsallied Qq F1.
356: oaths] oath Q2.
365: the days] these days Collier MS.
368: Russian] Q1 F2 F3 F4. Russia F1 Q2.
373: Fair] F2 F3 F4. om. Qq F1.
374: wit makes] F2 F3 F4. wits makes Qq F1. wits make Anon. conj.
379: for] but Capell conj.
385: was it] what it F1.
390: Dum.] Duman. Q1. Du. F1 Q2. Duk. F2 F3 F4.
392: swound] F2 F3 F4. sound Qq F1. swoon Pope.
396: I: lady,] I, lady Qq F1 F2. I, lady, F3 F4. I, lady: Capell.
404: vizard] Qq F1 F2. vizards F3 F4.
405: rhyme] rime Qq Ff. time Rowe.
407: affectation] Rowe. affection Qq Ff.
415: sans] sance Q1 (ital.).
421: it] om. Q2.
433: not you] Q1. you not Ff Q2.
439: mine] my F4.
446: thereto] Qq F1. there F2 F3 F4.
454: the] to th’ F3 F4.
463: slight zany] sleight saine Q1.
465: smiles his] smiles, his Q1. smites his Jackson conj.
years] jeers Theobald. fleers Hanmer. tears Jackson conj.
472: Much...and] Boyet. Much...Biron. And Johnson conj.
it is] F2 F3 F4. tis Qq F1.
[To Boyet.] Rowe.
474: not you] you not Q2.
squier] Qq F1 F2 F3. square F4. squire Capell.
478: allow’d] F3 F4. aloude Q1. alowd F1 Q2. allowd F2.
481: merrily] merely Q1.
482: Hath this brave manage] Theobald. hath this brave nuage Q1. hath this brave manager Ff Q2. Brave manager, hath this Pope.
484: part’st] prat’st F3 F4. partest Pope.
487: vara] very Rowe (ed. 2).
488: pursents] presents Rowe (ed. 2).
490: beg] bag Becket conj.
491: hope, sir] hope F3 F4.
501: they] thy Q1.
parfect] Q1. perfect Ff Q2. persent Collier. pursent Grant White (S. Walker conj.).
in] e’en Malone.
504: Pompion] Rowe (ed. 2). Pompey Qq Ff.
510, 511: Printed as verse in Q1, as prose in Ff Q2.
511: king’s] king F3 F4.
514: least] Ff Q2. best Q1.
515, 516: contents Dies...presents] Qq Ff. content Dies...presents Rowe (ed. 1). content Dies in the zeal of that it doth present Hanmer. contents Die in the zeal of him which them presents Johnson conj. contents Die in the zeal of them which it presents Steevens. discontent Dies in the zeal of them which it present Staunton. content Lies in the zeal of those which it present Mason conj. contents Die in the zeal of them which it presents Malone. contents Lie in the fail of that which it presents Singer. contents Dyes with the zeal of that which it presents Keightley conj.
517: Their] There Capell. The Knight.
521: [Converses...] Capell.
524: He] Ff Q2. A Q1.
God’s] Ff Q2. God his Q1.
525: That is] Q1. That’s Ff Q2.
528: de la guerra] Theobald. delaguar Qq Ff. della guerra Hanmer. See note (xxvi).
529: couplement] complement Q2.
534, 535: Printed as prose in Qq Ff, as verse in Rowe (ed. 2).
540: Abate] Qq F1. A bare F2 F3 F4. A fair Heath conj. Abate a Malone. A bait Jackson conj.
novum] novem Hanmer.
541: pick] Q1. prick Ff Q2.
in his] Q1. in’s Ff Q2.
[Seats brought forth.] Capell.
542: Flourish. Enter, arm’d and accouter’d, his Scutcheon born before him, Costard for Pompey. Capell.
543: [Costard prostrates himself. Staunton conj.
Boyet] F2 F3 F4. Bero. Q1. Ber. F1 Q2.
551: [Does his obeisance to the Princess. Capell.
553: Prin.] F2 F3 F4. Lady. Q1. La. F1 Q2.
562: this,] his Q1. this Ff Q2.
563: Alexander] Alisander Capell.
573: afeard] Q1. afraid Ff Q2.
574: [Nath. retires.] Capell.
576: faith] Q1. insooth Ff Q2.
578. ’tis,] Johnson. ’tis Q1 Ff. it’s Q2.
579: [Exit Curat. Q1. Exit Cu. F1 Q2. Exit Clo. F2 F3 F4 (after line 580).
580: Prin.] Quee. Q1. Qu. F1 Q2. Clo. F2 F3 F4.
581: Hercules is] Hercules’ S. Walker conj.
582: canis] Rowe. canus Qq Ff.
587: [Moth retires.] Exit Boy. Qq Ff. [Moth does his obeisance and retires. Capell.
593: proved] F2. proud Q1. prou’d F1 Q2.
600: out of] Q1 Ff. of Q2.
607: falchion] fauchion Q1. faulchion Ff Q2.
617: as he is an ass,] Q2 F3 F4. as he is, an ass, Q1 F1 F2.
623: hath he] he hath Pope.
626: by] to Hanmer.
628: Troyan] Qq Ff. Trojan Rowe, and line 664.
631: Hector’s] Q1. Hector Ff Q2.
633: in] with F3 F4.
638: A gilt nutmeg] Ff Q2. A gift nutmeg Q1 Gift! a nutmeg Capell.
642: Peace!] om. Ff Q2.
645: fight; yea] Qq Ff. fight ye, Rowe (ed. 2).
647: mint] pink Capell conj.
653, 654: when he breathed...man] Q1 om. Ff Q2.
655: [Biron steps to Costard and whispers him. Capell.
661: The party is gone] Printed in italics as a stage direction by Qq Ff.
677: on! stir] Rowe. or stir Qq Ff.
683: bepray] Q1. pray Ff Q2.
687: [stripping. Capell.
688: [coming up to Arm. and whispering him. Capell.
699: Boyet.] Moth. (to the lords aside). Capell.
701: a’ wears] a wears Q1. he wears Ff Q2.
702: Marcade.] Qq Ff. Macard. Rowe. Mercade. Capell.
704: Marcade] good Mercade Capell, reading 703, 704 as a verse.
705: interrupt’st] interrupptest Q1. interruptest Ff Q2.
705–707: Printed as prose in Qq Ff.
706, 707: bring Is heavy in] bring; ’Tis heavy on Capell.
712: day] days Warburton’s note.
wrong] right Warburton.
718: entreat,] entreat: Q1. entreats: Ff. intreats: Q2.
725: not] but Collier MS.
a nimble] Theobald, a humble Qq F1. an humble F2 F3 F4.
726: too short] Q1. so short Ff Q2.
728: parts....forms] parts....form Rowe (ed. 1). past...forms Theobald. haste....forms Singer. dart....forms Staunton conj. parting time expressly forms Collier MS.
731: process] process of time F3 F4.
734: it would] would it Johnson conj.
738: wholesome-profitable] holdsome profitable Q1.
740: are double] Qq Ff. are deaf Capell. are dull Collier MS. hear dully Staunton conj.
740–742: Prin. I...double. Biron. Honest...And by...] Prin. I...grief. King. And by... Johnson conj.
741: ear] care Q1. ears F1. eares Q2 F2. cares F3 F4.
748: strains] strangeness Collier MS.
751: strange] Capell. straying Qq Ff. stray Coleridge conj.
756: Have] ’T hath Capell.
misbecomed] misbecombd Q1. misbecom’d Ff. misbecomm’d Q2.
762: make] make them Pope.
763: a sin] so base Collier MS.
766: the] om. Q1.
770: this in our] Hanmer. this our Q1. these are our Ff Q2. these are your Tyrwhitt conj. this (save our...) Warburton.
771: been] seen Tyrwhitt conj.
786: the] Q1. their Ff Q2.
793: me by] by F3 F4.
795: instant] Ff Q2. instance Q1.
800: intitled] F1 F2 F3 Q2. intiled Q1. intituled F4.
802: flatter] fetter Hanmer (Warburton).
804: Hence ever] Ff. Hence herrite Q1.
805–810: Included in brackets by Theobald at the suggestion of Thirlby and Warburton, and omitted by Hanmer. See note (xviii).
806: rack’d] rank Rowe. reck’d Becket conj.
807: faults] fault F2 F3 F4.
812: A wife?...] Dyce. Kath. A wife? a beard, faire health, and... Qq Ff. Kath. A wife, a beard (fair youth) and... Theobald. Kath. No wife: a beard, fair health, and... Hanmer.
828: thy] Q1. my Ff. Q2.
829: have] had Collier MS.
833: estates] estetes Q1.
execute] exercise Collier MS.
835: fruitful] fructful Q1.
852: dear] dere Johnson conj. drear Jackson conj. dire Collier MS.
853: then] them Collier MS.
860: [To the King] Breaking Converse with the King and curtsying. Capell.
868: not] om. Q2.
872: years] yeare Q1. year Capell.
877: Re-enter...] Enter all. Qq Ff.
882, 883: Theobald. In Ff Qq the order is 883, 882.
883: cuckoo-buds] cowslip-buds Farmer conj. crocus-buds Whalley conj.
884: with delight] much-bedight Warburton.
903: foul] full Q1.
905, 906: Tu-whit; Tu-who] Qq Ff. Tu-who; Tu-whit, tu-who Capell.
917: Arm.] Brag. Ff Q2. om. Q1.
917, 918: The words...Apollo] In Q1 printed in larger type.
918: You that way,—we this way.] om. Q1.
Theseus, Duke of Athens.
Egeus, father to Hermia.
Lysander, in love with Hermia.
Demetrius, ” ” ” ”
Philostrate, master of the revels to Theseus
Quince, a carpenter.
Snug, a joiner.
Bottom, a weaver.
Flute, a bellows-mender.
Snout, a tinker.
Starveling, a tailor.
Hippolyta, queen of the Amazons, betrothed to Theseus.
Hermia, daughter to Egeus, in love with Lysander.
Helena, in love with Demetrius.
Oberon, king of the fairies.
Titania, queen of the fairies.
Puck, or Robin Goodfellow.
Peaseblossom, fairy.
Cobweb, ”
Moth, ”
Mustardseed, ”
Other fairies attending their King and Queen. Attendants on Theseus and Hippolyta.
Scene—Athens, and a wood near it.
The. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour
Draws on apace; four happy days bring in
Another moon: but, O, methinks, how slow
004 This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires,
005 Like to a step-dame, or a dowager,
006 Long withering out a young man’s revenue.
007 Hip. Four days will quickly steep themselves in night;
008 Four nights will quickly dream away the time;
And then the moon, like to a silver bow
010 New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night
Of our solemnities.
Go, Philostrate,
Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments;
Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth:
Turn melancholy forth to funerals;
015 The pale companion is not for our pomp. [Exit Philostrate.
Hippolyta, I woo’d thee with my sword,
And won thy love, doing thee injuries;
But I will wed thee in another key,
019 With pomp, with triumph and with revelling.
020 Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke!
The. Thanks, good Egeus: what’s the news with thee?
Ege. Full of vexation come I, with complaint
Against my child, my daughter Hermia.
024 Stand forth, Demetrius. My noble lord,
025 This man hath my consent to marry her.
Stand forth, Lysander: and, my gracious duke,
027 This man hath bewitch’d the bosom of my child:
Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes,
And interchanged love-tokens with my child:
030 Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung,
With feigning voice, verses of feigning love;
And stolen the impression of her fantasy
With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits,
Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats, messengers
035 Of strong prevailment in unharden’d youth:
With cunning hast thou filch’d my daughter’s heart;
Turn’d her obedience, which is due to me,
038 To stubborn harshness: and, my gracious duke,
Be it so she will not here before your Grace
040 Consent to marry with Demetrius,
I beg the ancient privilege of Athens,
As she is mine, I may dispose of her:
Which shall be either to this gentleman
Or to her death, according to our law
045 Immediately provided in that case.
The. What say you, Hermia? be advised, fair maid:
To you your father should be as a god;
One that composed your beauties; yea, and one
To whom you are but as a form in wax
050 By him imprinted and within his power
051 To leave the figure or disfigure it.
Demetrius is a worthy gentleman.
Her. So is Lysander.
In himself he is;
But in this kind, wanting your father’s voice,
055 The other must be held the worthier.
Her. I would my father look’d but with my eyes.
The. Rather your eyes must with his judgement look.
Her. I do entreat your Grace to pardon me.
I know not by what power I am made bold,
060 Nor how it may concern my modesty,
In such a presence here to plead my thoughts;
But I beseech your Grace that I may know
The worst that may befall me in this case,
If I refuse to wed Demetrius.
065 The. Either to die the death, or to abjure
For ever the society of men.
Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires;
Know of your youth, examine well your blood,
069 Whether, if you yield not to your father’s choice,
070 You can endure the livery of a nun;
For aye to be in shady cloister mew’d,
To live a barren sister all your life,
Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.
Thrice-blessed they that master so their blood,
075 To undergo such maiden pilgrimage;
076 But earthlier happy is the rose distill’d,
Than that which, withering on the virgin thorn,
Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.
Her. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord,
080 Ere I will yield my virgin patent up
081 Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke
My soul consents not to give sovereignty.
The. Take time to pause; and, by the next new moon,—
The sealing-day betwixt my love and me,
085 For everlasting bond of fellowship,—
Upon that day either prepare to die
087 For disobedience to your father’s will,
Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would;
Or on Diana’s altar to protest
090 For aye austerity and single life.
Dem. Relent, sweet Hermia: and, Lysander, yield
Thy crazed title to my certain right.
Lys. You have her father’s love, Demetrius;
094 Let me have Hermia’s: do you marry him.
095 Ege. Scornful Lysander! true, he hath my love,
And what is mine my love shall render him.
And she is mine, and all my right of her
098 I do estate unto Demetrius.
Lys. I am, my lord, as well derived as he,
100 As well possess’d; my love is more than his;
101 My fortunes every way as fairly rank’d,
102 If not with vantage, as Demetrius’;
And, which is more than all these boasts can be,
I am beloved of beauteous Hermia:
105 Why should not I then prosecute my right?
Demetrius, I’ll avouch it to his head,
107 Made love to Nedar’s daughter, Helena,
And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes,
Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry,
110 Upon this spotted and inconstant man.
The. I must confess that I have heard so much,
And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof;
But, being over-full of self-affairs,
My mind did lose it. But, Demetrius, come;
115 And come, Egeus; you shall go with me,
I have some private schooling for you both.
For you, fair Hermia, look you arm yourself
To fit your fancies to your father’s will;
Or else the law of Athens yields you up,—
120 Which by no means we may extenuate,—
To death, or to a vow of single life.
Come, my Hippolyta: what cheer, my love?
Demetrius and Egeus, go along:
I must employ you in some business
125 Against our nuptial, and confer with you
Of something nearly that concerns yourselves.
127 Ege. With duty and desire we follow you. [Exeunt all but Lysander and Hermia.
128 Lys. How now, my love! why is your cheek so pale?
How chance the roses there do fade so fast?
130 Her. Belike for want of rain, which I could well
131 Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes.
132 Lys. Ay me! for aught that I could ever read,
Could ever hear by tale or history,
The course of true love never did run smooth;
135 But, either it was different in blood,—
136 Her. O cross! too high to be enthrall’d to low.
Lys. Or else misgraffed in respect of years,—
138 Her. O spite! too old to be engaged to young.
139 Lys. Or else it stood upon the choice of friends,—
140 Her. O hell! to choose love by another’s eyes.
Lys. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,
143 Making it momentany as a sound,
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream;
145 Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
146 That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
And ere a man hath power to say ‘Behold!’
148 The jaws of darkness do devour it up:
So quick bright things come to confusion.
150 Her. If then true lovers have been ever cross’d,
It stands as an edict in destiny:
Then let us teach our trial patience,
Because it is a customary cross,
154 As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs,
155 Wishes and tears, poor fancy’s followers.
Lys. A good persuasion: therefore, hear me, Hermia.
I have a widow aunt, a dowager
Of great revenue, and she hath no child:
159 From Athens is her house remote seven leagues;
160 And she respects me as her only son.
There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee;
And to that place the sharp Athenian law
Cannot pursue us. If thou lovest me, then,
Steal forth thy father’s house to-morrow night;
165 And in the wood, a league without the town,
Where I did meet thee once with Helena,
167 To do observance to a morn of May,
There will I stay for thee.
168 My good Lysander!
I swear to thee, by Cupid’s strongest bow,
170 By his best arrow with the golden head,
By the simplicity of Venus’ doves,
172 By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves,
And by that fire which burn’d the Carthage queen,
When the false Troyan under sail was seen,
175 By all the vows that ever men have broke,
In number more than ever women spoke,
In that same place thou hast appointed me,
To-morrow truly will I meet with thee.
Lys. Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helena.
180 Her. God speed fair Helena! whither away?
Hel. Call you me fair? that fair again unsay.
182 Demetrius loves your fair: O happy fair!
Your eyes are lode-stars; and your tongue’s sweet air
More tuneable than lark to shepherd’s ear.
185 When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.
186 Sickness is catching: O, were favour so,
187 Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go;
My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye,
My tongue should catch your tongue’s sweet melody.
190 Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,
191 The rest I’d give to be to you translated.
O, teach me how you look; and with what art
You sway the motion of Demetrius’ heart!
Her. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still.
195 Hel. O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill!
Her. I give him curses, yet he gives me love.
Hel. O that my prayers could such affection move!
Her. The more I hate, the more he follows me.
Hel. The more I love, the more he hateth me.
200 Her. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine.
Hel. None, but your beauty: would that fault were mine!
Her. Take comfort: he no more shall see my face;
Lysander and myself will fly this place.
Before the time I did Lysander see,
205 Seem’d Athens as a paradise to me:
206 O, then, what graces in my love do dwell,
207 That he hath turn’d a heaven unto a hell!
Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold:
To-morrow night, when Phœbe doth behold
210 Her silver visage in the watery glass,
Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass,
A time that lovers’ flights doth still conceal,
213 Through Athens’ gates have we devised to steal.
Her. And in the wood, where often you and I
215 Upon faint primrose-beds were wont to lie,
216 Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet,
There my Lysander and myself shall meet;
And thence from Athens turn away our eyes,
219 To seek new friends and stranger companies.
220 Farewell, sweet playfellow: pray thou for us;
And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius!
Keep word, Lysander: we must starve our sight
From lovers’ food till morrow deep midnight.
Lys. I will, my Hermia. [Exit Herm.
Helena, adieu:
225 As you on him, Demetrius dote on you! [Exit.
Hel. How happy some o’er other some can be!
Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.
But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so;
229 He will not know what all but he do know:
230 And as he errs, doting on Hermia’s eyes,
So I, admiring of his qualities:
Things base and vile, holding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity:
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
235 And therefore is wing’d Cupid painted blind:
Nor hath Love’s mind of any judgement taste;
237 Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste:
And therefore is Love said to be a child,
239 Because in choice he is so oft beguiled.
240 As waggish boys in game themselves forswear,
So the boy Love is perjured every where:
For ere Demetrius look’d on Hermia’s eyne,
He hail’d down oaths that he was only mine;
244 And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt,
245 So he dissolved, and showers of oaths did melt.
I will go tell him of fair Hermia’s flight:
Then to the wood will he to-morrow night
248 Pursue her; and for this intelligence
249 If I have thanks, it is a dear expense:
250 But herein mean I to enrich my pain,
To have his sight thither and back again. [Exit.
Quin. Is all our company here?
Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by 003 man, according to the scrip.
Quin. Here is the scroll of every man’s name, which is 005 thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before 006 fore the duke and the duchess, on his wedding-day at night.
Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats 008 on; then read the names of the actors; and so grow to a point.
010 Quin. Marry, our play is, The most lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby.
Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll. Masters, spread yourselves.
015 Quin. Answer as I call you. Nick Bottom, the weaver.
Bot. Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed.
Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus.
Bot. What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant?
019 Quin. A lover, that kills himself most gallant for love.
020 Bot. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it: if I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move 022 storms, I will condole in some measure. To the rest: yet my chief humour is for a tyrant: I could play Ercles rarely, 024 or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split.
This was lofty! Now name the rest of the players. This is Ercles’ vein, a tyrant’s vein; a lover is more condoling.
035 Quin. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender.
Flu. Here, Peter Quince.
037 Quin. Flute, you must take Thisby on you.
Flu. What is Thisby? a wandering knight?
Quin. It is the lady that Pyramus must love.
040 Flu. Nay, faith, let not me play a woman; I have a beard coming.
Quin. That’s all one: you shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will.
Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too, I’ll 045 speak in a monstrous little voice, ‘Thisne, Thisne;’ ‘Ah Pyramus, my lover dear! thy Thisby dear, and lady dear!’
Quin. No, no; you must play Pyramus: and, Flute, you Thisby.
Bot. Well, proceed.
050 Quin. Robin Starveling, the tailor.
Star. Here, Peter Quince.
Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby’s mother. Tom Snout, the tinker.
Snout. Here, Peter Quince.
055 Quin. You, Pyramus’ father: myself, Thisby’s father: 056 Snug, the joiner; you, the lion’s part: and, I hope, here is a play fitted.
Snug. Have you the lion’s part written? pray you, if 059 it be, give it me, for I am slow of study.
060 Quin. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring.
Bot. Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that I will do any man’s heart good to hear me; I will roar, that I will make the duke say, ‘Let him roar again, let him roar 065 again.’
066 Quin. An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek; and that were enough to hang us all.
All. That would hang us, every mother’s son.
070 Bot. I grant you, friends, if that you should fright the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us: but I will aggravate my voice so, that I 073 will roar you as gently as any sucking dove; I will roar you an ’twere any nightingale.
075 Quin. You can play no part but Pyramus; for Pyramus is a sweet-faced man; a proper man, as one shall see in a summer’s day; a most lovely, gentleman-like man: therefore you must needs play Pyramus.
Bot. Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I 080 best to play it in?
Quin. Why, what you will.
Bot. I will discharge it in either your straw colour beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain 084 beard, or your French crown colour beard, your perfect 085 yellow.
Quin. Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then you will play barefaced. But, masters, here are your parts: and I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them by to-morrow night; and meet me 090 in the palace wood, a mile without the town, by moonlight; 091 there will we rehearse, for if we meet in the city, we shall be dogged with company, and our devices known. In the meantime I will draw a bill of properties, such as our play wants. I pray you, fail me not.
095 Bot. We will meet; and there we may rehearse most obscenely 096 and courageously. Take pains; be perfect: adieu.
Quin. At the duke’s oak we meet.
Bot. Enough; hold or cut bow-strings. [Exeunt.
Puck. How now, spirit! whither wander you?
Fai.
Over hill, over dale,
003 Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
005 Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander every where,
007 Swifter than the moon’s sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,
009 To dew her orbs upon the green.
010 The cowslips tall her pensioners be:
011 In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours:
014 I must go seek some dewdrops here,
015 And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear.
Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I’ll be gone:
Our queen and all her elves come here anon.
Puck. The king doth keep his revels here to-night:
Take heed the queen come not within his sight;
020 For Oberon is passing fell and wrath,
Because that she as her attendant hath
A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king;
She never had so sweet a changeling:
And jealous Oberon would have the child
025 Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild;
But she perforce withholds the loved boy,
Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy:
And now they never meet in grove or green,
By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen,
030 But they do square, that all their elves for fear
Creep into acorn-cups and hide them there.
032 Fai. Either I mistake your shape and making quite,
033 Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite
034 Call’d Robin Goodfellow: are not you he
035 That frights the maidens of the villagery;
036 Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern,
And bootless make the breathless housewife churn;
And sometime make the drink to bear no barm;
Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm?
040 Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck,
You do their work, and they shall have good luck:
Are not you he?
042 Thou speak’st aright;
I am that merry wanderer of the night.
I jest to Oberon, and make him smile,
045 When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
046 Neighing in likeness of a filly foal:
And sometime lurk I in a gossip’s bowl,
In very likeness of a roasted crab;
And when she drinks, against her lips I bob
050 And on her wither’d dewlap pour the ale.
The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale,
Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me;
Then slip I from her bum, down topples she,
054 And ‘tailor’ cries, and falls into a cough;
055 And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh;
056 And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear
A merrier hour was never wasted there.
058 But, room, fairy! here comes Oberon.
059 Fai. And here my mistress. Would that he were gone!
060 Obe. Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania.
061 Tita. What, jealous Oberon! Fairies, skip hence:
I have forsworn his bed and company.
Obe. Tarry, rash wanton: am not I thy lord?
Tita. Then I must be thy lady: but I know
065 When thou hast stolen away from fairy land,
And in the shape of Corin sat all day,
Playing on pipes of corn, and versing love
To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here,
069 Come from the farthest steppe of India?
070 But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon,
Your buskin’d mistress and your warrior love,
To Theseus must be wedded, and you come
To give their bed joy and prosperity.
Obe. How canst thou thus for shame, Titania,
075 Glance at my credit with Hippolyta,
Knowing I know thy love to Theseus?
077 Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night
078 From Perigenia, whom he ravished?
079 And make him with fair Ægle break his faith,
080 With Ariadne and Antiopa?
Tita. These are the forgeries of jealousy:
082 And never, since the middle summer’s spring,
Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead,
By paved fountain or by rushy brook,
085 Or in the beached margent of the sea,
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,
But with thy brawls thou hast disturb’d our sport.
Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain,
As in revenge, have suck’d up from the sea
090 Contagious fogs; which falling in the land,
091 Have every pelting river made so proud,
That they have overborne their continents:
The ox hath therefore stretch’d his yoke in vain,
The ploughman lost his sweat; and the green corn
095 Hath rotted ere his youth attain’d a beard:
The fold stands empty in the drowned field,
097 And crows are fatted with the murrion flock;
The nine men’s morris is fill’d up with mud;
099 And the quaint mazes in the wanton green,
100 For lack of tread, are undistinguishable:
101 The human mortals want their winter here;
No night is now with hymn or carol blest:
Therefore the moon, the governess of floods,
Pale in her anger, washes all the air,
105 That rheumatic diseases do abound:
106 And thorough this distemperature we see
107 The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose;
109 And on old Hiems’ thin and icy crown
110 An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds
Is, as in mockery, set: the spring, the summer,
112 The childing autumn, angry winter, change
113 Their wonted liveries; and the mazed world,
114 By their increase, now knows not which is which:
115 And this same progeny of evils comes
From our debate, from our dissension;
We are their parents and original.
Obe. Do you amend it, then; it lies in you:
Why should Titania cross her Oberon?
120 I do but beg a little changeling boy,
To be my henchman.
Set your heart at rest:
122 The fairy land buys not the child of me.
123 His mother was a votaress of my order:
And, in the spiced Indian air, by night,
125 Full often hath she gossip’d by my side;
And sat with me on Neptune’s yellow sands,
127 Marking the embarked traders on the flood;
When we have laugh’d to see the sails conceive
And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind;
130 Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait
131 Following,—her womb then rich with my young squire,—
Would imitate, and sail upon the land,
To fetch me trifles, and return again,
As from a voyage, rich with merchandise.
135 But she, being mortal, of that boy did die;
136 And for her sake do I rear up her boy;
And for her sake I will not part with him.
Obe. How long within this wood intend you stay?
Tita. Perchance till after Theseus’ wedding-day.
140 If you will patiently dance in our round,
And see our moonlight revels, go with us;
If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts.
Obe. Give me that boy, and I will go with thee.
144 Tita. Not for thy fairy kingdom. Fairies, away!
145 We shall chide downright, if I longer stay. [Exit Titania with her train.
Obe. Well, go thy way: thou shalt not from this grove
Till I torment thee for this injury.
My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou rememberest
149 Since once I sat upon a promontory,
150 And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin’s back,
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath,
That the rude sea grew civil at her song,
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,
To hear the sea-maid’s music.
I remember.
155 Obe. That very time I saw, but thou couldst not,
Flying between the cold moon and the earth,
157 Cupid all arm’d: a certain aim he took
158 At a fair vestal throned by the west,
And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow,
160 As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts:
But I might see young Cupid’s fiery shaft
162 Quench’d in the chaste beams of the watery moon,
163 And the imperial votaress passed on,
In maiden meditation, fancy-free.
165 Yet mark’d I where the bolt of Cupid fell:
It fell upon a little western flower,
Before milk-white, now purple with love’s wound,
And maidens call it love-in-idleness.
Fetch me that flower; the herb I shew’d thee once:
170 The juice of it on sleeping eye-lids laid
Will make or man or woman madly dote
172 Upon the next live creature that it sees.
Fetch me this herb; and be thou here again
Ere the leviathan can swim a league.
175 Puck. I’ll put a girdle round about the earth
In forty minutes. [Exit.
Having once this juice,
177 I’ll watch Titania when she is asleep,
And drop the liquor of it in her eyes.
179 The next thing then she waking looks upon,
180 Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull,
181 On meddling monkey, or on busy ape,
She shall pursue it with the soul of love:
183 And ere I take this charm from off her sight,
As I can take it with another herb,
185 I’ll make her render up her page to me.
But who comes here? I am invisible;
And I will overhear their conference.
188 Dem. I love thee not, therefore pursue me not.
Where is Lysander and fair Hermia?
190 The one I’ll slay, the other slayeth me.
191 Thou told’st me they were stolen unto this wood;
192 And here am I, and wode within this wood,
Because I cannot meet my Hermia.
Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more.
195 Hel. You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant;
But yet you draw not iron, for my heart
197 Is true as steel: leave you your power to draw,
And I shall have no power to follow you.
Dem. Do I entice you? do I speak you fair?
200 Or, rather, do I not in plainest truth
201 Tell you, I do not nor I cannot love you?
202 Hel. And even for that do I love you the more.
I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius,
The more you beat me, I will fawn on you:
205 Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me,
206 Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave,
Unworthy as I am, to follow you.
208 What worser place can I beg in your love,—
And yet a place of high respect with me,—
210 Than to be used as you use your dog?
Dem. Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit;
For I am sick when I do look on thee.
Hel. And I am sick when I look not on you.
Dem. You do impeach your modesty too much,
215 To leave the city, and commit yourself
Into the hands of one that loves you not;
To trust the opportunity of night
And the ill counsel of a desert place
With the rich worth of your virginity.
220 Hel. Your virtue is my privilege: for that
It is not night when I do see your face,
Therefore I think I am not in the night;
Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company,
For you in my respect are all the world:
225 Then how can it be said I am alone,
When all the world is here to look on me?
Dem. I’ll run from thee and hide me in the brakes,
And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts.
Hel. The wildest hath not such a heart as you.
230 Run when you will, the story shall be changed:
Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase;
The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind
Makes speed to catch the tiger; bootless speed,
When cowardice pursues, and valour flies.
235 Dem. I will not stay thy questions; let me go:
Or, if thou follow me, do not believe
But I shall do thee mischief in the wood.
238 Hel. Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field,
You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius!
240 Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex:
We cannot fight for love, as men may do;
242 We should be woo’d, and were not made to woo. [Exit Dem.
243 I’ll follow thee, and make a heaven of hell,
244 To die upon the hand I love so well. [Exit.
245 Obe. Fare thee well, nymph: ere he do leave this grove,
246 Thou shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy love.
247 Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer.
Puck. Ay, there it is.
I pray thee, give it me.
249 I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
250 Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows;
251 Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine:
253 There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,
254 Lull’d in these flowers with dances and delight;
255 And there the snake throws her enamell’d skin,
256 Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in:
257 And with the juice of this I’ll streak her eyes,
And make her full of hateful fantasies.
Take thou some of it, and seek through this grove:
260 A sweet Athenian lady is in love
With a disdainful youth: anoint his eyes;
But do it when the next thing he espies
May be the lady: thou shalt know the man
By the Athenian garments he hath on.
265 Effect it with some care that he may prove
266 More fond on her than she upon her love:
And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow.
268 Puck. Fear not, my lord, your servant shall do so. [Exeunt.
Tita. Come, now a roundel and a fairy song;
002 Then, for the third part of a minute, hence;
Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds;
Some war with rere-mice for their leathern wings,
005 To make my small elves coats; and some keep back
The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots and wonders
007 At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep;
Then to your offices, and let me rest.
009 Fir. Fairy.
You spotted snakes with double tongue.
010 Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;
Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong,
Come not near our fairy queen.
013 Philomel, with melody
014 Sing in our sweet lullaby;
015 Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby:
Never harm,
Nor spell, nor charm,
Come our lovely lady nigh;
So, good night, with lullaby.
Fir. Fairy.
020 Weaving spiders, come not here;
021 Hence, you long-legg’d spinners, hence!
Beetles black, approach not near;
Worm nor snail, do no offence.
Philomel, with melody, &c.
Sec. Fairy.
025 Hence, away! now all is well:
026 One aloof stand sentinel. [Exeunt Fairies. Titania sleeps.
Obe. What thou seest when thou dost wake,
Do it for thy true-love take;
Love and languish for his sake:
030 Be it ounce, or cat, or bear,
Pard, or boar with bristled hair,
032 In thy eye that shall appear
When thou wakest, it is thy dear:
034 Wake when some vile thing is near. [Exit.
035 Lys. Fair love, you faint with wandering in the wood;
And to speak troth, I have forgot our way:
We’ll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good,
038 And tarry for the comfort of the day.
039 Her. Be it so, Lysander: find you out a bed;
040 For I upon this bank will rest my head.
Lys. One turf shall serve as pillow for us both;
One heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth.
Her. Nay, good Lysander; for my sake, my dear,
Lie further off yet, do not lie so near.
045 Lys. O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence!
046 Love takes the meaning in love’s conference.
047 I mean, that my heart unto yours is knit,
048 So that but one heart we can make of it:
049 Two bosoms interchained with an oath;
050 So then two bosoms and a single troth.
Then by your side no bed-room me deny;
For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie.
Her. Lysander riddles very prettily:
Now much beshrew my manners and my pride,
055 If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied.
But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy
057 Lie further off; in human modesty,
Such separation as may well be said
Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid,
060 So far be distant; and, good night, sweet friend:
Thy love ne’er alter till thy sweet life end!
Lys. Amen, amen, to that fair prayer, say I;
And then end life when I end loyalty!
Here is my bed: sleep give thee all his rest!
065 Her. With half that wish the wisher’s eyes be press’d! [They sleep.
Puck. Through the forest have I gone,
067 But Athenian found I none,
On whose eyes I might approve
This flower’s force in stirring love.
070 Night and silence.—Who is here?
Weeds of Athens he doth wear:
This is he, my master said,
Despised the Athenian maid;
And here the maiden, sleeping sound,
075 On the dank and dirty ground.
Pretty soul! she durst not lie
077 Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy.
Churl, upon thy eyes I throw
All the power this charm doth owe.
080 When thou wakest, let love forbid
Sleep his seat on thy eyelid:
So awake when I am gone;
For I must now to Oberon. [Exit.
084 Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius.
085 Dem. I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.
Hel. O, wilt thou darkling leave me? do not so.
087 Dem. Stay, on thy peril: I alone will go. [Exit.
Hel. O, I am out of breath in this fond chase!
The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace.
090 Happy is Hermia, wheresoe’er she lies;
For she hath blessed and attractive eyes.
How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears:
If so, my eyes are oftener wash’d than hers.
No, no, I am as ugly as a bear;
095 For beasts that meet me run away for fear:
096 Therefore no marvel though Demetrius
Do, as a monster, fly my presence thus.
What wicked and dissembling glass of mine
Made me compare with Hermia’s sphery eyne?
100 But who is here? Lysander! on the ground!
Dead? or asleep? I see no blood, no wound.
Lysander, if you live, good sir, awake.
Lys. [Awaking] And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake.
104 Transparent Helena! Nature shows art,
105 That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart.
106 Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word
Is that vile name to perish on my sword!
Hel. Do not say so, Lysander; say not so.
What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though?
110 Yet Hermia still loves you: then be content.
Lys. Content with Hermia! No; I do repent
The tedious minutes I with her have spent.
113 Not Hermia but Helena I love:
Who will not change a raven for a dove?
115 The will of man is by his reason sway’d;
And reason says you are the worthier maid.
Things growing are not ripe until their season:
118 So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason;
And touching now the point of human skill,
120 Reason becomes the marshal to my will,
And leads me to your eyes; where I o’erlook
122 Love’s stories, written in love’s richest book.
Hel. Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born?
When at your hands did I deserve this scorn?
125 Is’t not enough, is’t not enough, young man,
That I did never, no, nor never can,
127 Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius’ eye,
But you must flout my insufficiency?
Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you do,
130 In such disdainful manner me to woo.
But fare you well: perforce I must confess
I thought you lord of more true gentleness.
O, that a lady, of one man refused,
Should of another therefore be abused! [Exit.
135 Lys. She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there:
And never mayst thou come Lysander near!
For as a surfeit of the sweetest things
138 The deepest loathing to the stomach brings,
Or as the heresies that men do leave
140 Are hated most of those they did deceive,
So thou, my surfeit and my heresy,
Of all be hated, but the most of me!
143 And, all my powers, address your love and might
To honour Helen and to be her knight! [Exit.
Her. [Awaking] 145 Help me, Lysander, help me! do thy best
To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast!
147 Ay me, for pity! what a dream was here!
Lysander, look how I do quake with fear:
Methought a serpent eat my heart away,
150 And you sat smiling at his cruel prey.
Lysander! what, removed? Lysander! lord!
What, out of hearing? gone? no sound, no word?
Alack, where are you? speak, an if you hear;
154 Speak, of all loves! I swoon almost with fear.
155 No? then I well perceive you are not nigh:
156 Either death or you I’ll find immediately. [Exit.
Bot. Are we all met?
002 Quin. Pat, pat; and here’s a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn-brake our tiring-house; and we will do it in 005 action as we will do it before the duke.
Bot. Peter Quince,—
Quin. What sayest thou, bully Bottom?
Bot. There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisby that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw 010 a sword to kill himself; which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that?
012 Snout. By’r lakin, a parlous fear.
Star. I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done.
015 Bot. Not a whit: I have a device to make all well. Write me a prologue; and let the prologue seem to say, we will do no harm with our swords, and that Pyramus is not 018 killed indeed; and, for the more better assurance, tell them that I Pyramus am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver: 020 this will put them out of fear.
Quin. Well, we will have such a prologue; and it shall be written in eight and six.
023 Bot. No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight.
025 Snout. 025 Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion?
Star. I fear it, I promise you.
027 Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with yourselves: to bring in,—God shield us!—a lion among ladies, is a most dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl 030 than your lion living; and we ought to look to ’t.
Snout. Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion.
Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion’s neck; and he himself must 035 speak through, saying thus, or to the same defect,—‘Ladies,’ —or, ‘Fair ladies,—I would wish you,’—or, ‘I would request you,’—or, ‘I would entreat you,—not to fear, not to tremble: my life for yours. If you think I come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life: no, I am no such thing; I 040 am a man as other men are:’ and there indeed let him 041 name his name, and tell them plainly, he is Snug the joiner.
Quin. Well, it shall be so. But there is two hard things; that is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber; for, you know, Pyramus and Thisby meet by moonlight.
045 Snout. Doth the moon shine that night we play our play?
Bot. A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanac; find 047 out moonshine, find out moonshine.
Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night.
049 Bot. Why, then may you leave a casement of the great 050 chamber window, where we play, open, and the moon may shine in at the casement.
Quin. Ay; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lantern, and say he comes to disfigure, or to present, the person of moonshine. Then, there is another 055 thing: we must have a wall in the great chamber; for Pyramus and Thisby, says the story, did talk through the chink of a wall.
058 Snout. You can never bring in a wall. What say you, Bottom?
060 Bot. Some man or other must present wall: and let him 061 have some plaster, or some loam, or some rough-cast about 062 him, to signify wall; and let him hold his fingers thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramus and Thisby whisper.
Quin. If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit 065 down, every mother’s son, and rehearse your parts. Pyramus, you begin: when you have spoken your speech, enter into that brake: and so every one according to his cue.
068 Puck. What hempen home-spuns have we swaggering here,
So near the cradle of the fairy queen?
070 What, a play toward! I’ll be an auditor;
071 An actor too perhaps, if I see cause.
Quin. Speak, Pyramus. Thisby, stand forth.
073 Bot. Thisby, the flowers of odious savours sweet,—
074 Quin. Odours, odours.
075 Bot. —— odours savours sweet:
So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby 076 dear.
But hark, a voice! stay thou but here 077 awhile,
And by and by I will to thee appear. [Exit.
Puck. 079 A stranger Pyramus than e’er play’d here. [Exit.
080 Flu. Must I speak now?
081 Quin. Ay, marry, must you; for you must understand he
goes but to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again.
Flu. Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue,
Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier,
085 Most brisky juvenal, and eke most lovely Jew,
As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire,
I’ll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny’s tomb.
Quin. ‘Ninus’ tomb,’ man: why, you must not speak that yet; that you answer to Pyramus: you speak all your 090 part at once, cues and all. Pyramus enter: your cue is past; it is, ‘never tire.’
Flu. O,—As true as truest horse, that yet would never 092 tire.
093 Bot. If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine.
Quin. O monstrous! O strange! we are haunted. Pray, 095 masters! fly, masters! Help! [Exeunt Quince, Snug, Flute, Snout, and Starveling.
096 Puck. I’ll follow you, I’ll lead you about a round,
097 Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier:
Sometime a horse I’ll be, sometime a hound,
099 A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire;
100 And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn,
101 Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn. [Exit.
Bot. Why do they run away? this is a knavery of them to make me afeard.
104 Snout. O bottom, thou art changed! what do I see on 105 thee?
Bot. What do you see? you see an ass-head of your own, do you? [Exit Snout.
Quin. Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! thou art translated. [Exit.
110 Bot. I see their knavery: this is to make an ass of me; to fright me, if they could. But I will not stir from this place, do what they can: I will walk up and down here, and 113 I will sing, that they shall hear I am not afraid. [Sings.
114 The ousel cock so black of hue,
115 With orange-tawny bill,
The throstle with his note so true,
117 The wren with little quill;
Tita. [Awaking] What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?
Bot. [Sings
The finch, the sparrow, and the lark,
120 The plain-song cuckoo gray,
Whose note full many a man doth mark,
And dares not answer nay;—
for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird? who would give a bird the lie, though he cry ‘cuckoo’ never so?
125 Tita. I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again:
Mine ear is much enamour’d of thy note;
127 So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape;
And thy fair virtue’s force perforce doth move me
On the first view to say, to swear, I love thee.
130 Bot. Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that: and yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now-a-days; the more the pity, that some honest neighbours will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek upon occasion.
135 Tita. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.
Bot. Not so, neither: but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn.
Tita. Out of this wood do not desire to go:
Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no.
140 I am a spirit of no common rate:
The summer still doth tend upon my state;
And I do love thee: therefore, go with me;
I’ll give thee fairies to attend on thee;
And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep,
145 And sing, while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep:
And I will purge thy mortal grossness so,
That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.
148 Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustardseed!
149 Ready.
And I.
And I.
And I.
Where shall we go?
150 Tita. Be kind and courteous to this gentleman;
Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes;
Feed him with apricocks and dewberries,
With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries;
154 The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees,
155 And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs,
And light them at the fiery glow-worm’s eyes,
To have my love to bed and to arise;
And pluck the wings from painted butterflies
To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes:
160 Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.
161 First Fai. Hail, mortal!
Sec. Fai. Hail!
Third Fai. Hail!
Fourth Fai. Hail!
165 Bot. I cry your worships mercy, heartily: I beseech your worship’s name.
Cob. Cobweb.
168 Bot. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Cobweb: if I cut my finger, I shall make bold with 170 you. Your name, honest gentleman?
Peas. Peaseblossom.
Bot. I pray you, commend me to Mistress Squash, your mother, and to Master Peascod, your father. Good 174 Master Peaseblossom, I shall desire you of more acquaintance 175 too. Your name, I beseech you, sir?
176 Mus. Mustardseed.
177 Bot. Good Master Mustardseed, I know your patience well: that same cowardly, giant-like ox-beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your house: I promise you 180 your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire 181 your more acquaintance, good Master Mustardseed.
Tita. Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower.
The moon methinks looks with a watery eye;
184 And when she weeps, weeps every little flower,
185 Lamenting some enforced chastity.
186 Tie up my love’s tongue, bring him silently. [Exeunt.
Obe. I wonder if Titania be awaked;
Then, what it was that next came in her eye,
003 Which she must dote on in extremity.
Here comes my messenger.
004 How now, mad spirit!
005 What night-rule now about this haunted grove?
006 Puck. My mistress with a monster is in love.
Near to her close and consecrated bower,
While she was in her dull and sleeping hour,
A crew of patches, rude mechanicals,
010 That work for bread upon Athenian stalls,
Were met together to rehearse a play,
Intended for great Theseus’ nuptial-day.
013 The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort,
Who Pyramus presented, in their sport
015 Forsook his scene, and enter’d in a brake:
When I did him at this advantage take,
017 An ass’s nole I fixed on his head:
Anon his Thisbe must be answered,
019 And forth my mimic comes. When they him spy,
020 As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye,
021 Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort,
Rising and cawing at the gun’s report,
Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky,
So, at his sight, away his fellows fly;
025 And, at our stamp, here o’er and o’er one falls;
He murder cries, and help from Athens calls.
Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears thus strong,
Made senseless things begin to do them wrong;
For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch;
030 Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders all things catch.
I led them on in this distracted fear,
And left sweet Pyramus translated there:
When in that moment, so it came to pass,
Titania waked, and straightway loved an ass.
035 Obe. This falls out better than I could devise.
036 But hast thou yet latch’d the Athenian’s eyes
With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do?
Puck. I took him sleeping,—that is finish’d too,—
And the Athenian woman by his side;
040 That, when he waked, of force she must be eyed.
041 Obe. Stand close: this is the same Athenian.
Puck. This is the woman, but not this the man.
Dem. O, why rebuke you him that loves you so?
Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
045 Her. Now I but chide; but I should use thee worse,
For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse.
If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep,
048 Being o’er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep,
And kill me too.
050 The sun was not so true unto the day
As he to me: would he have stolen away
052 From sleeping Hermia? I’ll believe as soon
This whole earth may be bored, and that the moon
054 May through the centre creep, and so displease
055 Her brother’s noontide with the Antipodes.
It cannot be but thou hast murder’d him;
057 So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim.
058 Dem. So should the murder’d look; and so should I,
Pierced through the heart with your stern cruelty:
060 Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear,
As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere.
Her. What’s this to my Lysander? where is he?
Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me?
064 Dem. I had rather give his carcass to my hounds.
065 Her. Out, dog! out, cur! thou drivest me past the bounds
Of maiden’s patience. Hast thou slain him, then?
Henceforth be never number’d among men!
068 O, once tell true, tell true, even for my sake!
069 Durst thou have look’d upon him being awake,
070 And hast thou kill’d him sleeping? O brave touch!
Could not a worm, an adder, do so much?
072 An adder did it; for with doubler tongue
Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung.
074 Dem. You spend your passion on a misprised mood:
075 I am not guilty of Lysander’s blood;
Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell.
Her. I pray thee, tell me then that he is well.
Dem. An if I could, what should I get therefore?
Her. A privilege, never to see me more.
080 And from thy hated presence part I so:
See me no more, whether he be dead or no. [Exit.
Dem. There is no following her in this fierce vein:
Here therefore for a while I will remain.
So sorrow’s heaviness doth heavier grow
085 For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe;
Which now in some slight measure it will pay,
087 If for his tender here I make some stay. [Lies down and sleeps.
088 Obe. What hast thou done? thou hast mistaken quite,
And laid the love-juice on some true-love’s sight:
090 Of thy misprision must perforce ensue
Some true love turn’d, and not a false turn’d true.
Puck. Then fate o’er-rules, that, one man holding troth,
A million fail, confounding oath on oath.
094 Obe. About the wood go swifter than the wind,
095 And Helena of Athens look thou find:
All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer,
097 With sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear:
By some illusion see thou bring her here:
099 I’ll charm his eyes against she do appear.
100 Puck. I go, I go; look how I go,
101 Swifter than arrow from the Tartar’s bow. [Exit.
Obe.
Flower of this purple dye,
Hit with Cupid’s archery,
Sink in apple of his eye.
105 When his love he doth espy,
Let her shine as gloriously
As the Venus of the sky.
When thou wakest, if she be by,
109 Beg of her for remedy.
Puck.
110 Captain of our fairy band,
Helena is here at hand;
And the youth, mistook by me,
Pleading for a lover’s fee.
Shall we their fond pageant see?
115 Lord, what fools these mortals be!
Obe.
Stand aside: the noise they make
Will cause Demetrius to awake.
Puck.
Then will two at once woo one;
That must needs be sport alone;
120 And those things do best please me
That befal preposterously.
122 Lys. Why should you think that I should woo in scorn?
123 Scorn and derision never come in tears:
Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born,
125 In their nativity all truth appears.
How can these things in me seem scorn to you,
Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?
Hel. You do advance your cunning more and more.
When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray!
130 These vows are Hermia’s: will you give her o’er?
Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh:
Your vows to her and me, put in two scales,
Will even weigh; and both as light as tales.
Lys. I had no judgement when to her I swore.
135 Hel. Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o’er.
Lys. Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you.
Dem. [Awaking] 137 O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!
To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne?
Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show
140 Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
That pure congealed white, high Taurus’ snow,
Fann’d with the eastern wind, turns to a crow
143 When thou hold’st up thy hand: O, let me kiss
144 This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!
145 Hel. O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent
To set against me for your merriment:
If you were civil and knew courtesy,
You would not do me thus much injury.
Can you not hate me, as I know you do,
150 But you must join in souls to mock me too?
151 If you were men, as men you are in show,
You would not use a gentle lady so;
To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts,
When I am sure you hate me with your hearts.
155 You both are rivals, and love Hermia;
And now both rivals, to mock Helena:
A trim exploit, a manly enterprise,
To conjure tears up in a poor maid’s eyes
With your derision! none of noble sort
160 Would so offend a virgin, and extort
A poor soul’s patience, all to make you sport.
Lys. You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so;
For you love Hermia; this you know I know:
164 And here, with all good will, with all my heart,
165 In Hermia’s love I yield you up my part;
166 And yours of Helena to me bequeath,
167 Whom I do love, and will do till my death.
Hel. Never did mockers waste more idle breath.
Dem. Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none:
170 If e’er I loved her, all that love is gone.
171 My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourn’d,
172 And now to Helen is it home return’d,
173 There to remain.
Lys. Helen, it is not so.
Dem. Disparage not the faith thou dost not know,
175 Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear.
Look, where thy love comes; yonder is thy dear.
177 Her. Dark night, that from the eye his function takes,
The ear more quick of apprehension makes;
Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense,
180 It pays the hearing double recompense.
Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found;
182 Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound.
But why unkindly didst thou leave me so?
Lys. Why should he stay, whom love doth press to go?
185 Her. What love could press Lysander from my side?
Lys. Lysander’s love, that would not let him bide,
Fair Helena, who more engilds the night
188 Than all yon fiery oes and eyes of light.
Why seek’st thou me? could not this make thee know,
190 The hate I bear thee made me leave thee so?
Her. You speak not as you think: it cannot be.
Hel. Lo, she is one of this confederacy!
Now I perceive they have conjoin’d all three
To fashion this false sport, in spite of me.
195 Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid!
Have you conspired, have you with these contrived
To bait me with this foul derision?
Is all the counsel that we two have shared,
199 The sisters’ vows, the hours that we have spent,
200 When we have chid the hasty-footed time
201 For parting us,—O, is all forgot?
202 All school-days’ friendship, childhood innocence?
We, Hermia, like two artificial gods,
204 Have with our needles created both one flower,
205 Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,
Both warbling of one song, both in one key;
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds,
Had been incorporate. So we grew together,
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted;
210 But yet an union in partition,
211 Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;
So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart;
213 Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,
Due but to one, and crowned with one crest.
215 And will you rent our ancient love asunder,
To join with men in scorning your poor friend?
It is not friendly, ’tis not maidenly:
218 Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it,
Though I alone do feel the injury.
220 Her. I am amazed at your passionate words.
I scorn you not: it seems that you scorn me.
Hel. Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn,
To follow me and praise my eyes and face?
And made your other love, Demetrius,
225 Who even but now did spurn me with his foot,
To call me goddess, nymph, divine and rare,
Precious, celestial? Wherefore speaks he this
To her he hates? and wherefore doth Lysander
Deny your love, so rich within his soul,
230 And tender me, forsooth, affection,
But by your setting on, by your consent?
What though I be not so in grace as you,
So hung upon with love, so fortunate,
But miserable most, to love unloved?
235 This you should pity rather than despise.
Her. I understand not what you mean by this.
237 Hel. Ay, do, persever, counterfeit sad looks,
238 Make mouths upon me when I turn my back;
Wink each at other; hold the sweet jest up:
240 This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled.
241 If you have any pity, grace, or manners,
You would not make me such an argument.
243 But fare ye well: ’tis partly my own fault;
Which death or absence soon shall remedy.
245 Lys. Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse:
246 My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena!
Hel. O excellent!
Sweet, do not scorn her so.
Dem. If she cannot entreat, I can compel.
Lys. Thou canst compel no more than she entreat:
250 Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers.
Helen, I love thee; by my life, I do:
I swear by that which I will lose for thee,
To prove him false that says I love thee not.
Dem. I say I love thee more than he can do.
255 Lys. If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too.
Dem. Quick, come!
Lysander, whereto tends all this?
257 Lys. Away, you Ethiope!
No, no; he’ll . . .
258 Seem to break loose; take on as you would follow,
But yet come not: you are a tame man, go!
260 Lys. Hang off, thou cat, thou burr! vile thing, let loose,
Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent!
Her. Why are you grown so rude? what change is this?
Sweet love,—
Lys. Thy love! out, tawny Tartar, out!
264 Out, loathed medicine! hated potion, hence!
Her. Do you not jest?
265 Yes, sooth; and so do you.
Lys. Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee.
Dem. I would I had your bond, for I perceive
A weak bond holds you: I’ll not trust your word.
Lys. What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead?
270 Although I hate her, I’ll not harm her so.
271 Her. What, can you do me greater harm than hate?
272 Hate me! wherefore? O me! what news, my love!
Am not I Hermia? are not you Lysander?
I am as fair now as I was erewhile.
275 Since night you loved me; yet since night you left me:
Why, then you left me,—O, the gods forbid!—
In earnest, shall I say?
Ay, by my life;
And never did desire to see thee more.
279 Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt;
280 Be certain, nothing truer; ’tis no jest
That I do hate thee, and love Helena.
282 Her. O me! you juggler! you canker-blossom!
You thief of love! what, have you come by night
And stolen my love’s heart from him?
Fine, i’faith!
285 Have you no modesty, no maiden shame,
No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear
Impatient answers from my gentle tongue?
Fie, fie! you counterfeit, you puppet, you!
289 Her. Puppet? why so? ay, that way goes the game.
290 Now I perceive that she hath made compare
Between our statures; she hath urged her height;
292 And with her personage, her tall personage,
Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail’d with him.
And are you grown so high in his esteem,
295 Because I am so dwarfish and so low?
How low am I, thou painted maypole? speak;
How low am I? I am not yet so low
But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes.
299 Hel. I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen,
300 Let her not hurt me: I was never curst;
I have no gift at all in shrewishness;
I am a right maid for my cowardice:
Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think,
304 Because she is something lower than myself,
That I can match her.
305 Lower! hark, again.
Hel. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me
I evermore did love you, Hermia,
Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong’d you;
Save that, in love unto Demetrius,
310 I told him of your stealth unto this wood.
He follow’d you; for love I follow’d him;
But he hath chid me hence, and threaten’d me
To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too:
And now, so you will let me quiet go,
315 To Athens will I bear my folly back,
And follow you no further: let me go:
You see how simple and how fond I am.
Her. Why, get you gone: who is’t that hinders you?
Hel. A foolish heart, that I leave here behind.
Her. What, with Lysander?
320 With Demetrius.
321 Lys. Be not afraid; she shall not harm thee, Helena.
Dem. No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part.
323 Hel. O, when she’s angry, she is keen and shrewd!
She was a vixen when she went to school;
325 And though she be but little, she is fierce.
Her. Little again! nothing but low and little!
Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?
Let me come to her.
Get you gone, you dwarf;
329 You minimus, of hindering knot-grass made;
You bead, you acorn.
330 You are too officious
In her behalf that scorns your services.
Let her alone: speak not of Helena;
Take not her part; for, if thou dost intend
Never so little show of love to her,
335 Thou shalt aby it.
Now she holds me not;
Now follow, if thou darest, to try whose right,
337 Of thine or mine, is most in Helena.
Dem. Follow! nay, I’ll go with thee, cheek by jole. [Exeunt Lysander and Demetrius.
Her. You, mistress, all this coil is ’long of you:
Nay, go not back.
340 I will not trust you, I,
Nor longer stay in your curst company.
Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray,
My legs are longer though, to run away. [Exit.
344 Her. I am amazed, and know not what to say. [Exit.
345 Obe. This is thy negligence: still thou mistakest,
346 Or else committ’st thy knaveries wilfully.
Puck. Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook.
Did not you tell me I should know the man
349 By the Athenian garments he had on?
350 And so far blameless proves my enterprise,
351 That I have ’nointed an Athenian’s eyes;
352 And so far am I glad it so did sort,
As this their jangling I esteem a sport.
Obe. Thou see’st these lovers seek a place to fight:
355 Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night;
The starry welkin cover thou anon
357 With drooping fog, as black as Acheron;
And lead these testy rivals so astray,
As one come not within another’s way.
360 Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue,
Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong;
And sometime rail thou like Demetrius;
And from each other look thou lead them thus.
Till o’er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep
365 With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep:
Then crush this herb into Lysander’s eye;
Whose liquor hath this virtuous property,
368 To take from thence all error with his might,
And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight.
370 When they next wake, all this derision
Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision;
And back to Athens shall the lovers wend,
With league whose date till death shall never end.
374 Whiles I in this affair do thee employ,
375 I’ll to my queen and beg her Indian boy;
And then I will her charmed eye release
From monster’s view, and all things shall be peace.
Puck. My fairy lord, this must be done with haste,
379 For night’s swift dragons cut the clouds full fast,
380 And yonder shines Aurora’s harbinger;
At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there,
Troop home to churchyards: damned spirits all,
That in crossways and floods have burial,
Already to their wormy beds are gone;
385 For fear lest day should look their shames upon,
386 They wilfully themselves exile from light,
And must for aye consort with black-brow’d night.
Obe. But we are spirits of another sort:
389 I with the morning’s love have oft made sport;
390 And, like a forester, the groves may tread,
Even till the eastern gate, all fiery-red,
392 Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams,
393 Turns into yellow gold his salt green streams.
394 But, notwithstanding, haste; make no delay:
395 We may effect this business yet ere day. [Exit.
Puck.
396 Up and down, up and down,
I will lead them up and down:
I am fear’d in field and town:
Goblin, lead them up and down.
400 Here comes one.
Lys. Where art thou, proud Demetrius? speak thou now.
Puck. Here, villain; drawn and ready. Where art thou?
Lys. I will be with thee straight.
Follow me, then,
To plainer ground. [Exit Lysander, as following the voice.
Lysander! speak again:
405 Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled?
406 Speak! In some bush? Where dost thou hide thy head?
Puck. Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars,
Telling the bushes that thou look’st for wars,
And wilt not come? Come, recreant; come, thou child;
410 I’ll whip thee with a rod: he is defiled
That draws a sword on thee.
Yea, art thou there?
Puck. Follow my voice: we’ll try no manhood here. [Exeunt.
413 Lys. He goes before me and still dares me on:
414 When I come where he calls, then he is gone.
415 The villain is much lighter-heel’d than I:
416 I follow’d fast, but faster he did fly;
That fallen am I in dark uneven way,
And here will rest me. [Lies down.] 418 Come, thou gentle day!
For if but once thou show me thy grey light,
420 I’ll find Demetrius, and revenge this spite. [Sleeps.
421 Puck. Ho, ho, ho! Coward, why comest thou not?
Dem. Abide me, if thou darest; for well I wot
Thou runn’st before me, shifting every place,
And darest not stand, nor look me in the face.
425 Where art thou now?
425 Come hither: I am here.
426 Dem. Nay, then, thou mock’st me. Thou shalt buy this dear,
If ever I thy face by daylight see:
Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth me
To measure out my length on this cold bed.
430 By day’s approach look to be visited. [Lies down and sleeps.
431 Hel. O weary night, O long and tedious night,
432 Abate thy hours! Shine comforts from the east,
That I may back to Athens by daylight,
From these that my poor company detest:
435 And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow’s eye,
436 Steal me awhile from mine own company. [Lies down and sleeps.
437 Puck. Yet but three? Come one more;
438 Two of both kinds makes up four.
439 Here she comes, curst and sad:
440 Cupid is a knavish lad,
Thus to make poor females mad.
442 Her. Never so weary, never so in woe;
Bedabbled with the dew, and torn with briers;
I can no further crawl, no further go;
445 My legs can keep no pace with my desires.
Here will I rest me till the break of day.
447 Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray! [Lies down and sleeps.
Puck.
On the ground
449 Sleep sound:
450 I’ll apply
451 To your eye,
452 Gentle lover, remedy. [Squeezing the juice on Lysander’s eyes.
When thou wakest,
454 Thou takest
455 True delight
In the sight
Of thy former lady’s eye:
And the country proverb known,
That every man should take his own,
460 In your waking shall be shown:
Jack shall have Jill;
Nought shall go ill;
463 The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well. [Exit.
Tita. Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed,
While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,
And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head,
And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy.
005 Bot. Where’s Peaseblossom?
Peas. Ready.
007 Bot. Scratch my head, Peaseblossom. Where’s Mounsieur Cobweb?
Cob. Ready.
010 Bot. Mounsieur Cobweb, good mounsieur, get you your weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipped humble-bee on the top of a thistle; and, good mounsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much in the action, mounsieur; and, good mounsieur, have a care the honey-bag 015 break not; I would be loth to have you overflown with a honey-bag, signior. Where’s Mounsieur Mustardseed.
Mus. Ready.
018 Bot. Give me your neaf, Mounsieur Mustardseed. Pray you, leave your courtesy, good mounsieur.
020 Mus. What’s your will?
021 Bot. Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help Cavalery 022 Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber’s, mounsieur; for 023 methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face; and I am 024 such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch.
025 Tita. What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love?
026 Bot. I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let’s 027 have the tongs and the bones.
Tita. Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest to eat.
Bot. Truly, a peck of provender: I could munch your 030 good dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.
032 Tita. I have a venturous fairy that shall seek
033 The squirrel’s hoard, and fetch thee new nuts.
Bot. I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas. 035 But, I pray you, let none of your people stir me: I have an exposition of sleep come upon me.
Tita. Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms.
038 Fairies, be gone, and be all ways away. [Exeunt Fairies.
039 So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle
040 Gently entwist; the female ivy so
Enrings the barky fingers of the elm.
O, how I love thee! how I dote on thee! [They sleep.
Obe. [Advancing] Welcome, good Robin. See’st thou this sweet sight?
Her dotage now I do begin to pity:
045 For, meeting her of late behind the wood,
046 Seeking sweet favours for this hateful fool,
I did upbraid her, and fall out with her;
For she his hairy temples then had rounded
With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers;
050 And that same dew, which sometime on the buds
Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls,
052 Stood now within the pretty flowerets’ eyes,
Like tears, that did their own disgrace bewail.
When I had at my pleasure taunted her,
055 And she in mild terms begg’d my patience,
I then did ask of her her changeling child;
057 Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent
To bear him to my bower in fairy land.
And now I have the boy, I will undo
060 This hateful imperfection of her eyes:
And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp
062 From off the head of this Athenian swain;
063 That, he awaking when the other do,
May all to Athens back again repair,
065 And think no more of this night’s accidents,
But as the fierce vexation of a dream.
But first I will release the fairy queen.
068 Be as thou wast wont to be;
See as thou wast wont to see:
070 Dian’s bud o’er Cupid’s flower
Hath such force and blessed power.
Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen.
Tita. My Oberon! what visions have I seen!
Methought I was enamour’d of an ass.
Obe. There lies your love.
075 How came these things to pass?
076 O, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now!
077 Obe. Silence awhile. Robin, take off this head.
Titania, music call; and strike more dead
079 Than common sleep of all these five the sense.
080 Tita. Music, ho! music, such as charmeth sleep! [Music, still.
081 Puck. Now, when thou wakest, with thine own fool’s eyes peep.
Obe. Sound, music! Come, my queen, take hands with me,
And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.
Now thou and I are new in amity,
085 And will to-morrow midnight solemnly
Dance in Duke Theseus’ house triumphantly,
087 And bless it to all fair prosperity:
088 There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be
Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity.
Puck.
090 Fairy king, attend, and mark:
I do hear the morning lark.
Obe.
092 Then, my queen, in silence sad,
093 Trip we after the night’s shade:
We the globe can compass soon,
095 Swifter than the wandering moon.
Tita.
Come, my lord; and in our flight,
Tell me how it came this night,
098 That I sleeping here was found
099 With these mortals on the ground. [Horns winded within. [Exeunt.
100 The. Go, one of you, find out the forester;
For now our observation is perform’d;
And since we have the vaward of the day,
My love shall hear the music of my hounds.
104 Uncouple in the western valley; let them go:
105 Dispatch, I say, and find the forester. [Exit an Attend.
We will, fair queen, up to the mountain’s top,
And mark the musical confusion
Of hounds and echo in conjunction.
Hip. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once,
110 When in a wood of Crete they bay’d the bear
With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear
Such gallant chiding; for, besides the groves,
113 The skies, the fountains, every region near
114 Seem’d all one mutual cry: I never heard
115 So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.
The. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,
So flew’d, so sanded; and their heads are hung
With ears that sweep away the morning dew;
119 Crook-knee’d, and dew-lapp’d like Thessalian bulls;
120 Slow in pursuit, but match’d in mouth like bells,
Each under each. A cry more tuneable
Was never holla’d to, nor cheer’d with horn,
In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly:
Judge when you hear. But, soft! what nymphs are these?
125 Ege. My lord, this is my daughter here asleep;
And this, Lysander; this Demetrius is;
127 This Helena, old Nedar’s Helena:
128 I wonder of their being here together.
The. No doubt they rose up early to observe
130 The rite of May; and, hearing our intent,
Came here in grace of our solemnity.
But speak, Egeus; is not this the day
That Hermia should give answer of her choice?
Ege. It is, my lord.
135 The. Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns. [Horns and shout within. Lys., Dem., Hel., and Her., wake and start up.
136 Good morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past:
Begin these wood-birds but to couple now?
Lys. Pardon, my lord.
I pray you all, stand up.
I know you two are rival enemies:
140 How comes this gentle concord in the world,
141 That hatred is so far from jealousy,
To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity?
Lys. My lord, I shall reply amazedly,
Half sleep, half waking: but as yet, I swear,
145 I cannot truly say how I came here;
But, as I think,—for truly would I speak,
And now I do bethink me, so it is,—
I came with Hermia hither: our intent
149 Was to be gone from Athens, where we might,
150 Without the peril of the Athenian law.
Ege. Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough:
I beg the law, the law, upon his head.
They would have stolen away; they would, Demetrius,
Thereby to have defeated you and me,
155 You of your wife and me of my consent,
Of my consent that she should be your wife.
Dem. My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth,
Of this their purpose hither to this wood;
And I in fury hither follow’d them,
160 Fair Helena in fancy following me.
But, my good lord, I wot not by what power,—
162 But by some power it is,—my love to Hermia,
163 Melted as the snow, seems to me now
As the remembrance of an idle gaud,
165 Which in my childhood I did dote upon;
And all the faith, the virtue of my heart,
The object and the pleasure of mine eye,
Is only Helena. To her, my lord,
169 Was I betroth’d ere I saw Hermia:
170 But, like in sickness, did I loathe this food;
But, as in health, come to my natural taste,
172 Now I do wish it, love it, long for it,
And will for evermore be true to it.
The. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met:
175 Of this discourse we more will hear anon.
Egeus, I will overbear your will;
For in the temple, by and by, with us
These couples shall eternally be knit:
And, for the morning now is something worn,
180 Our purposed hunting shall be set aside.
Away with us to Athens! three and three,
We’ll hold a feast in great solemnity.
183 Come, Hippolyta. [Exeunt The., Hip., Ege., and train.
184 Dem. These things seem small and undistinguishable,
185 Like far-off mountains turned into clouds.
Her. Methinks I see these things with parted eye,
When every thing seems double.
So methinks:
188 And I have found Demetrius like a jewel,
189 Mine own, and not mine own.
Are you sure
190 That we are awake? It seems to me
That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not you think
The Duke was here, and bid us follow him?
Her. Yea; and my father.
And Hippolyta.
194 Lys. And he did bid us follow to the temple.
195 Dem. Why, then, we are awake: let’s follow him;
196 And by the way let us recount our dreams. [Exeunt.
197 Bot. [Awaking] When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer: my next is, ‘Most fair Pyramus.’ Heigh-ho! Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout, the 200 tinker! Starveling! God’s my life, stolen hence, and left 201 me asleep! I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was: man 203 is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was—there is no man can tell what. Methought I was.—and methought I had,—but man is but a patched 205 fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man’s hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince 210 to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom’s Dream, because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the 212 latter end of a play, before the Duke: peradventure, to make 213 it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death. [Exit.
001 Quin. Have you sent to Bottom’s house? is he come home yet?
003 Star. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt he is transported.
005 Flu. If he come not, then the play is marred: it goes not forward, doth it?
Quin. It is not possible: you have not a man in all Athens able to discharge Pyramus but he.
Flu. No, he hath simply the best wit of any handicraft 010 man in Athens.
011 Quin. Yea, and the best person too; and he is a very paramour for a sweet voice.
013 Flu. You must say ‘paragon’: a paramour is, God 014 bless us, a thing of naught.
015 Snug. Masters, the Duke is coming from the temple, and there is two or three lords and ladies more married: if our sport had gone forward, we had all been made men.
Flu. O sweet bully Bottom! Thus hath he lost sixpence 019 a day during his life; he could not have scaped sixpence 020 a day: an the Duke had not given him sixpence a day for playing Pyramus, I’ll be hanged; he would have deserved it: sixpence a day in Pyramus, or nothing.
Bot. Where are these lads? where are these hearts?
Quin. Bottom! O most courageous day! O most 025 happy hour!
Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders: but ask me 027 not what; for if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I will 028 tell you every thing, right as it fell out.
Quin. Let us hear, sweet Bottom.
030 Bot. Not a word of me. All that I will tell you is, that the Duke hath dined. Get your apparel together, good strings to your beards, new ribbons to your pumps; meet presently at the palace; every man look o’er his part; for 034 the short and the long is, our play is preferred. In any 035 case, let Thisby have clean linen; and let not him that plays the lion pare his nails, for they shall hang out for the lion’s claws. And, most dear actors, eat no onions nor 038 garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I do not doubt but to hear them say, it is a sweet comedy. No more 040 words: away! go, away! [Exeunt.
Hip. ’Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of.
The. More strange than true: I never may believe
These antique fables, nor these fairy toys.
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
005 Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
006 More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatic, the lover and the poet
Are of imagination all compact:
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold,
010 That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen’s beauty in a brow of Egypt:
012 The poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
014 And as imagination bodies forth
015 The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen
016 Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.
Such tricks hath strong imagination,
019 That, if it would but apprehend some joy,
020 It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
021 Or in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush supposed a bear!
Hip. But all the story of the night told over,
And all their minds transfigured so together,
025 More witnesseth than fancy’s images,
And grows to something of great constancy;
But, howsoever, strange and admirable.
The. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.
029 Joy, gentle friends! joy and fresh days of love
Accompany your hearts!
030 More than to us
031 Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed!
The. Come now; what masques, what dances shall we have,
033 To wear away this long age of three hours
034 Between our after-supper and bed-time?
035 Where is our usual manager of mirth?
What revels are in hand? Is there no play,
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?
038 Call Philostrate.
Here, mighty Theseus.
The. Say, what abridgement have you for this evening?
040 What masque? what music? How shall we beguile
The lazy time, if not with some delight?
042 Phil. There is a brief how many sports are ripe:
043 Make choice of which your highness will see first. [Giving a paper.
The. [reads] 044 The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung
045 By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.
We’ll none of that: that have I told my love,
In glory of my kinsman Hercules.
[Reads] The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,
Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.
050 That is an old device; and it was play’d
When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.
[Reads] The thrice three Muses mourning for the death
Of Learning, late deceased in beggary.
That is some satire, keen and critical,
055 Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony.
[Reads] A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus
And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth.
058 Merry and tragical! tedious and brief!
059 That is, hot ice and wondrous strange snow.
060 How shall we find the concord of this discord?
061 Phil. A play there is, my lord, some ten words long,
Which is as brief as I have known a play;
But by ten words, my lord, it is too long,
Which makes it tedious; for in all the play
065 There is not one word apt, one player fitted:
066 And tragical, my noble lord, it is;
For Pyramus therein doth kill himself.
Which, when I saw rehearsed, I must confess,
Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
070 The passion of loud laughter never shed.
The. What are they that do play it?
Phil. Hard-handed men, that work in Athens here,
Which never labour’d in their minds till now;
And now have toil’d their unbreathed memories
075 With this same play, against your nuptial.
076 The. And we will hear it.
No, my noble lord;
It is not for you: I have heard it over,
And it is nothing, nothing in the world;
079 Unless you can find sport in their intents,
080 Extremely stretch’d and conn’d with cruel pain,
To do you service.
081 I will hear that play;
For never any thing can be amiss,
When simpleness and duty tender it.
Go, bring them in: and take your places, ladies. [Exit Philostrate.
085 Hip. I love not to see wretchedness o’ercharged,
And duty in his service perishing.
The. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.
Hip. He says they can do nothing in this kind.
The. The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing.
090 Our sport shall be to take what they mistake:
091 And what poor duty cannot do, noble respect
092 Takes it in might, not merit.
Where I have come, great clerks have purposed
To greet me with premeditated welcomes;
095 Where I have seen them shiver and look pale,
Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttle their practised accent in their fears,
And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off,
Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet,
100 Out of this silence yet I pick’d a welcome;
And in the modesty of fearful duty
I read as much as from the rattling tongue
Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity
105 In least speak most, to my capacity.
106 Phil. So please your Grace, the Prologue is address’d.
107 The. Let him approach. [Flourish of trumpets.
108 Pro. If we offend, it is with our good will.
That you should think, we come not to offend,
110 But with good will. To show our simple skill,
That is the true beginning of our end.
Consider, then, we come but in despite.
We do not come as minding to content you,
114 Our true intent is. All for your delight,
115 We are not here. That you should here repent you,
The actors are at hand; and, by their show,
You shall know all, that you are like to know.
118 The. This fellow doth not stand upon points.
Lys. He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he knows not the stop. A good moral, my lord: it is not 120 enough to speak, but to speak true.
122 Hip. Indeed he hath played on his prologue like a 123 child on a recorder; a sound, but not in government.
124 The. His speech was like a tangled chain; nothing impaired, 125 but all disordered. Who is next?
Pro. Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show;
But wonder on, till truth make all things plain.
This man is Pyramus, if you would know;
This beauteous lady Thisby is certain.
130 This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present
131 Wall, that vile Wall which did these lovers sunder;
And through Wall’s chink, poor souls, they are content
To whisper. At the which let no man wonder.
This man, with lanthorn, dog, and bush of thorn,
135 Presenteth Moonshine; for, if you will know,
By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn
To meet at Ninus’ tomb, there, there to woo.
138 This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name,
139 The trusty Thisby, coming first by night,
140 Did scare away, or rather did affright;
141 And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall,
Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain.
Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall,
144 And finds his trusty Thisby’s mantle slain:
145 Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade,
He bravely broach’d his boiling bloody breast;
147 And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade,
His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest,
Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers tw