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 twain
150 At large discourse, while here they do remain. [Exeunt Prologue, Thisbe, Lion, and Moonshine.
The. I wonder if the lion be to speak.
Dem. No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when many
asses do.Wall. In this same interlude it doth befall
155 That I, one Snout by name, present a wall;
And such a wall, as I would have you think,
That had in it a crannied hole or chink,
158 Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby,
Did whisper often very secretly.
160 This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth show
That I am that same wall; the truth is so:
And this the cranny is, right and sinister,
Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.
The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?
165 Dem. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord.
The. Pyramus draws near the wall: silence!
Pyr. O grim-look’d night! O night with hue so black!
O night, which ever art when day is not!
170 O night, O night! alack, alack, alack,
I fear my Thisby’s promise is forgot!
172 And them, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall,
173 That stand’st between her father’s ground and mine!
Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall,
175 Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne! [Wall holds up his fingers.
Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for this!
But what see I? No Thisby do I see.
O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss!
Cursed be thy stones for thus deceiving me!
The. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse 180 again.
Pyr. No, in truth, sir, he should not. ‘Deceiving me’ 183 is Thisby’s cue: she is to enter now, and I am to spy her 184 through the wall. You shall see, it will fall pat as I told 185 you. Yonder she comes.
This. O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans,
For parting my fair Pyramus and me!
My cherry lips have often kiss’d thy stones,
189 Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee.
190 Pyr. I see a voice: now will I to the chink,
191 To spy an I can hear my Thisby’s face.
Thisby!
193 This. My love thou art, my love I think.
Pyr. Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover’s grace;
195 And, like Limander, am I trusty still.
196 This. And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill.
Pyr. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.
This. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.
Pyr. O, kiss me through the hole of this vile wall!
200 This. I kiss the wall’s hole, not your lips at all.
Pyr. Wilt thou at Ninny’s tomb meet me straightway?
202 This. ‘Tide life, ’tide death, I come without delay. [Exeunt Pyramus and Thisbe.
Wall. Thus have I, wall, my part discharged so;
204 And, being done, thus wall away doth go. [Exit.
205 The. Now is the mural down between the two neighbours.
Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to
208 hear without warning.
209 Hip. This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.
210 The. The best in this kind are but shadows; and the
worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.
Hip. It must be your imagination then, and not theirs.
The. If we imagine no worse of them than they of
214 themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here come
215 two noble beasts in a man and a lion.
Lion. You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear
The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor,
May now perchance both quake and tremble here,
When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar.
220 Then know that I, one Snug the joiner, am
221 A lion-fell, nor else no lion’s dam;
For, if I should as lion come in strife
223 Into this place, ’twere pity on my life.
The. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience.
225 Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e’er I saw.
Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valour.
The. True; and a goose for his discretion.
Dem. Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his discretion; and the fox carries the goose.
230 The. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour; for the goose carries not the fox. It is well: leave it to his 232 discretion, and let us listen to the moon.
Moon. This lanthorn doth the horned moon present;—
Dem. He should have worn the horns on his head.
235 The. He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference.
Moon. This lanthorn doth the horned moon present;
238 Myself the man i’ the moon do seem to be.
The. This is the greatest error of all the rest: the man 240 should be put into the lantern. How is it else the man i’ the moon?
Dem. He dares not come there for the candle; for, you see, it is already in snuff.
244 Hip. I am aweary of this moon: would he would 245 change!
246 The. It appears, by his small light of discretion, that he is in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay the time.
Lys. Proceed, Moon.
250 Moon. All that I have to say, is, to tell you that the lanthorn is the moon; I, the man in the moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog.
253 Dem. Why, all these should be in the lantern; for all these are in the moon. But, silence! here comes Thisbe.
255 This. This is old Ninny’s tomb. Where is my love?
256 Lion. [Roaring] Oh—— [Thisbe runs off.
Dem. Well roared, Lion.
The. Well run, Thisbe.
Hip. Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon shines with 260 a good grace. [The Lion shakes Thisbe’s mantle, and exit.
261 The. Well moused, Lion.
262 Dem. And then came Pyramus.
Lys. And so the lion vanished.
Pyr. Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams;
265 I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright;
266 For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering gleams,
267 I trust to take of truest Thisby sight.
But stay, O spite!
But mark, poor knight,
270 What dreadful dole is here!
Eyes, do you see?
How can it be?
273 O dainty duck! O dear!
Thy mantle good,
275 What, stain’d with blood!
276 Approach, ye Furies fell!
O Fates, come, come,
Cut thread and thrum;
Quail, crush, conclude, and quell!
280 The. This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.
Hip. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.
Pyr. O wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame?
284 Since lion vile hath here deflower’d my dear:
285 Which is—no, no—which was the fairest dame
That lived, that loved, that liked, that look’d with cheer.
Come, tears, confound;
Out, sword, and wound
The pap of Pyramus;
290 Ay, that left pap,
291 Where heart doth hop: [Stabs himself.
Thus die I, thus, thus, thus.
Now am I dead,
Now am I fled;
295 My soul is in the sky:
296 Tongue, lose thy light;
297 Moon, take thy flight: [Exit Moonshine.
298 Now die, die, die, die, die. [Dies.
Dem. No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one.
300 Lys. Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing.
The. With the help of a surgeon he might yet recover, 303 and prove an ass.
304 Hip. How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisbe 305 comes back and finds her lover?
The. She will find him by starlight. Here she comes; and her passion ends the play.
Hip. Methinks she should not use a long one for such a Pyramus: I hope she will be brief.
310 Dem. A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, 311 which Thisbe, is the better; he for a man, God warrant us; she for a woman, God bless us.
Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes.
314 Dem. And thus she means, videlicet:—
This.
315 Asleep, my love?
What, dead, my dove?
O Pyramus, arise!
Speak, speak. Quite dumb?
Dead, dead? A tomb
320 Must cover thy sweet eyes.
321 These lily lips,
322 This cherry nose,
These yellow cowslip cheeks,
Are gone, are gone:
325 Lovers, make moan:
His eyes were green as leeks.
O Sisters Three,
Come, come to me,
With hands as pale as milk;
330 Lay them in gore,
Since you have shore
332 With shears his thread of silk.
Tongue, not a word:
Come, trusty sword;
335 Come, blade, my breast imbrue: [Stabs herself.
And, farewell, friends;
Thus Thisby ends:
Adieu, adieu, adieu. [Dies.
The. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead.
340 Dem. Ay, and Wall too.
341 Bot. [Starting up] No, I assure you; the wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance between two of our company?
345 The. No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. Never excuse; for when the players are all dead, 347 there need none to be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it 348 had played Pyramus and hanged himself in Thisbe’s garter, it would have been a fine tragedy: and so it is, truly; and 350 very notably discharged. But, come, your Bergomask: let 351 your epilogue alone. [A dance.
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve:
Lovers, to bed; ’tis almost fairy time.
I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn,
355 As much as we this night have overwatch’d.
This palpable-gross play hath well beguiled
The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed.
A fortnight hold we this solemnity,
In nightly revels and new jollity. [Exeunt.
Puck.
360 Now the hungry lion roars,
361 And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
363 All with weary task fordone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
365 Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night,
That the graves, all gaping wide,
370 Every one lets forth his sprite,
371 In the church-way paths to glide:
And we fairies, that do run
By the triple Hecate’s team,
From the presence of the sun,
375 Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic: not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallow’d house:
I am sent with broom before,
379 To sweep the dust behind the door.
Obe.
380 Through the house give glimmering light,
By the dead and drowsy fire:
Every elf and fairy sprite
Hop as light as bird from brier;
And this ditty, after me,
385 Sing, and dance it trippingly.
Tita.
386 First, rehearse your song by rote,
To each word a warbling note:
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
389 Will we sing, and bless this place. [Song and dance.
Obe.
390 Now, until the break of day,
Through this house each fairy stray.
To the best bride-bed will we,
Which by us shall blessed be;
And the issue there create
395 Ever shall be fortunate.
So shall all the couples three
Ever true in loving be;
And the blots of Nature’s hand
Shall not in their issue stand;
400 Never mole, hare lip, nor scar,
Nor mark prodigious, such as are
Despised in nativity,
403 Shall upon their children be.
With this field-dew consecrate,
405 Every fairy take his gait;
And each several chamber bless,
Through this palace, with sweet peace,
408 Ever shall in safety rest,
And the owner of it blest.
410 Trip away; make no stay;
411 Meet me all by break of day. [Exeunt Oberon, Titania, and train.
Puck.
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber’d here,
415 While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
If you pardon, we will mend.
420 And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to scape the serpent’s tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call:
425 So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends. [Exit.
i. 2. 45. It may be questioned whether the true reading is not ‘thisne, thisne;’ that is, ‘in this manner,’ a meaning which ‘thissen’ has in several dialects. See Halliwell’s Arch. Dict. ‘So-ne’ is used in the same way in Suffolk.
iii. 1. 2. Capell appears to have considered the reading ‘marvailes’ of Q1 as representing the vulgar pronunciation of ‘marvellous,’ and he therefore printed it ‘marvels,’ as in iv. 1. 23.
iii. 2. 257, 258. In this obscure passage we have thought it best to retain substantially the reading of the Quartos. The Folios, though they alter it, do not remove the difficulty, and we must conclude that some words, perhaps a whole line, have fallen out of the text.
iii 2. 337. We retain the reading of the old copies in preference to Theobald’s plausible conjecture. A similar construction occurs in The Tempest, ii. 1. 27, ‘which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow?’
iii. 2. 204. Although Pope’s reading of this line was followed by all editors down to Capell it is rendered extremely improbable by the occurrence of the word ‘Have’ at the beginning of the line in all the old copies, and could only have been suggested by what Pope considered the exigencies of the metre. ‘Needles’ may have been pronounced, as Steevens writes it, ‘neelds;’ but, if not, the line is harmonious enough.
iv. 1. 1. Johnson says, ‘I see no good reason why the fourth Act should begin here when there seems no interruption of the action;’ but he does not alter the arrangement of the Folios, which, in the absence of any good reason to the contrary, we also follow.
iv. 1. 8, &c. We have retained throughout this scene the spelling of the old copies ‘Mounsieur,’ as representing a pronunciation more appropriate to Bottom, like ‘Cavalery’ a few lines lower down. We are aware, however, that the word was generally so spelt.
v. 1. In the Folios the stage direction is ‘Enter Theseus, Hippolita, Egeus and his Lords,’ and the speeches which properly belong to Philostrate as master of the revels are assigned to Egeus, with the exception of that beginning ‘No, my noble lord, &c.’ In line 38 the Quartos correctly read ‘Philostrate’ where the Folios have ‘Egeus.’ The confusion may have arisen, as Mr Grant White suggests, from the two parts having been originally played by the same actor.
v. 1. 44–60. We have followed the Quartos in assigning this speech to Theseus alone. In the Folios Lysander is represented as reading the ‘brief’ and Theseus as commenting upon it. Theobald first restored the arrangement of the Quartos.
v. 1. 125. The stage direction of the Folios is ‘Tawyer with a trumpet before them,’ Tawyer being generally understood to be the name of the trumpeter; but Mr Collier, on the strength of a note in the corrected Folio ‘Enter Presenter,’ interprets ‘Tawyer’ as the name of the actor who filled the part of Presenter and introduced the characters of the play.
v. 1. 160. In the Variorum edition of 1821 ‘lime’ is given as the reading of the Folios, and ‘lome’ of the Quartos, the fact being that F1 F2 read ‘loame,’ and F3 F4 ‘loam.’
v. 1. 390–411. This speech, which in the Folios is made ‘The Song,’ was restored by Johnson to Oberon, following the Quartos. He adds, ‘But where then is the song?—I am afraid it is gone after many other things of greater value. The truth is that two songs are lost. The series of the scene is this: after the speech of Puck, Oberon enters, and calls his fairies to a song, which song is apparently wanting in all the copies. Next Titania leads another song which is indeed lost like the former, though the editors have endeavoured to find it. Then Oberon dismisses his fairies to the despatch of the ceremonies. The songs, I suppose, were lost, because they were not inserted in the players’ parts, from which the drama was printed.’
v. 1. 408, 409. The difficulty in these two lines is at once removed by transposing them, as was suggested by C. R. W. a correspondent in the Illustrated London News. Mr Staunton was at one time inclined to think that ‘Ever shall’ was a corruption of ‘Every hall,’ but he now adheres to the solution above given. Malone incorrectly attributes to Pope the reading which he himself adopts, ‘E’er shall it in safety rest,’ Pope’s reading being ‘Ever shall in safety rest’ as in Rowe’s second edition.
Sc. i. Enter...] Enter Theseus, Hippolita, with others. Qq Ff.
4: wanes] waues Q1.
6: withering out] wintering on Warburton. lithering out Becket conj.
7: night] Q1. nights Q2 Ff.
8: nights] Q1 Ff. daies Q2.
10: New-bent] Rowe. Now bent Qq Ff.
15: [Exit Ph.] Theobald.
19: revelling] revelry Holt White conj.
24, 26: Stand forth, Demetrius...Stand forth, Lysander] Printed in Qq Ff as stage directions. Corrected by Rowe.
27: This man hath bewitch’d] Qq F1. This hath bewitch’d F2 F3 F4.
bewitch’d] witch’d Theobald.
38: harshness] hardness Collier MS.
51: leave] ’leve Warburton. lave Becket conj.
69: if you yield not] not yielding Pope.
76: earthlier happy] earlier happy Pope conj. earthly happier Capell.
81: whose unwished] Qq F1. to whose unwished F2 F3. to whose unwish’d F4.
87: your] you F2.
94: Hermia’s] Hermia Tyrwhitt conj.
98: unto] upon Hanmer.
101: fortunes] fortune’s Rowe.
102: Demetrius’] Pope. Demetrius Qq Ff.
107: Nedar’s] Nestor’s S. Walker conj.
125: nuptial] Qq F1. nuptialls F2 F3 F4.
127: [Exeunt...] Exeunt. Manet L. and M. Qq Ff.
128: Scene ii. Pope.
130: which I could] yet could I Becket conj.
131: my] Qq. mine Ff.
132: Ay me! for aught that I could ever] Eigh me; for ought that I could ever Qq. For ought that ever I could F1. Hermia for ought that ever I could F2 F3 F4. Ay me! for aught that ever I could Dyce.
136: low] Theobald. love Qq Ff.
too...low] to be enthrall’d! too high, too low Becket conj.
138: to young] too young F4.
139: friends] Qq. merit Ff. men Collier MS.
140: eyes] Qq. eie F1. eye F2 F3 F4.
143: momentany] Qq. momentary Ff.
146: spleen] shene Becket conj.
148: do] to F3 F4.
154: due] dewe Q1.
159: remote] Qq. remov’d Ff.
167: observance to a] Qq. observance for a Ff. observance to the Pope.
168–178: Her. My good......with thee] Her. My good Lysander! Lys. I swear...spoke. Her. In that...with thee Warburton.
172: loves] Q1. love Q2 Ff.
180: Scene iii. Pope.
182: your fair] Qq. you fair Ff. you, fair Rowe (ed. 2).
186: so] Qq Ff. so! Theobald.
187: Yours would I] Hanmer. Your words I Qq F1. Your words Ide F2 F3 F4.
191: I’d] Hanmer. ile Q1. Ile Q2 F1 F2. I’le F3 F4.
200: folly, Helena, is no fault] Q1. folly, Helena, is none Q2 Ff. fault, Oh Helena, is none Hanmer. fault, fair Helena, is none Collier MS.
205: as] Q1. like Q2 Ff.
206: do] must Collier MS.
207: unto a] Q1. into Q2 Ff.
213: gates] Qq F1 F2. gate F3 F4.
216: sweet] Theobald. sweld Qq Ff.
219: stranger companies] Theobald. strange companions Qq Ff.
225: dote] Qq. dotes Ff.
229: do] Qq. doth Ff.
237: haste] hast F4.
239: he is so oft] Q1 he is oft Q2. he is often F1. he often is F2 F3 F4.
240: in game themselves] themselves in game F3 F4.
244: this] Q1 Ff. his Q2.
245: So] Lo, Capell.
248: this] Qq. his Ff.
249: a dear expense] dear recompense Collier MS.
Scene ii.] Scene iv. Pope.
Quince’s house.] Capell. Changes to a cottage. Theobald.
3: according to] Q1 Ff. according Q2.
6: the duchess] duchess Pope (ed. 2).
8, 9: grow to a point] Qq. grow on to a point F1 F2 F3. grow on to appoint F4. go on to a point Warburton. go on to appoint Collier MS.
19: gallant] Qq. gallantly Ff.
22: storms] stones Collier MS.
24: cat] cap Warburton.
in, to] in two ed. 1661.
25–32: Printed as prose in Qq Ff.
26: And] With Farmer conj.
37: Flute,] Q1. om. Q2 Ff.
56: and, I hope, here] Qq. and I hope there Ff. I hope there Rowe (ed. 2).
59: it be] be F1.
66: An] And Q1. If Q2 Ff.
70: friends] friend F4.
if] Qq. if that Ff.
73: roar you] Qq. roar Ff.
84: colour] Qq. colour’d Ff.
perfect] Ff. perfit Qq.
91: will we] Q1. we will Q2 Ff.
95: most] Q1. more Q2 Ff.
obscenely] obscurely Grey conj. (withdrawn).
96: Take...adieu] given by Singer to Quince.
pains] Qq F1. paine F2 F3 F4.
perfect] Ff. perfit Qq.
[Scene i. Enter...] Enter a Fairie at one doore, and Robin goodfellow at another. Qq Ff.
3, 5: Thorough...thorough, Thorough...thorough] Q1. Through...through, Through...through Q2 Ff.
7: moon’s sphere] moony sphere Grant White (Steevens conj.).
9: orbs] herbs Grey conj.
10: tall] all Collier MS.
11: coats] cups Collier MS.
14: here] here and there Capell.
30: square] jar Peck conj. sparre Id. conj.
32: Either] Or Pope.
33: sprite] Q1. spirit Q2 Ff.
34: not you] Q1. you not Q2 Ff.
35: frights] fright F3 F4.
villagery] villageree Q1. villagree Q2 F1 F2 F3. vilagree F4.
36–39. Skim...labour...make...make...Mislead] Qq Ff. Skims...labours...makes...makes...Misleads Collier.
42: Thou] I am—thou Johnson. Fairy, thou Collier (Collier MS.).
speak’st] speakest Q1. speakest me Capell.
46: filly] Q1. silly Q2 Ff.
50: dewlap] Rowe (ed. 2). dewlop Qq Ff.
54: tailor] rails or Capell. tail-sore Anon. ap. Capell conj.
54, 55: cough...laugh] coffe...loffe Qq Ff.
56: waxen] yexen Singer (Farmer conj.).
58: room] make room Pope.
fairy] faëry Johnson conj.
room, fairy! here] fairy, room, for here Seymour conj.
59: he] Qq F1. we F2 F3 F4.
60: Scene ii. Pope.
Enter...] Enter the King of Fairies at one door with his traine, and the Queen at another with hers. Qq Ff.
61: Fairies, skip] Theobald. Fairy, skip Qq Ff. Fairies, keep Harness conj. Fairies, trip Dyce conj.
65: hast] Qq. wast Ff.
69: steppe] Q1. steepe Q2 Ff.
77: through the glimmering] glimmering through the Warburton.
78: Perigenia] Perigune Theobald. Perigyne Hanmer. Perigouna Grant White (North’s Plutarch).
79: Ægle] Rowe. Eagles Qq Ff.
80: Antiopa] Atiopa F1.
82: the] that Hanmer (Warburton).
85: in] on Pope.
pelting] Qq. petty Ff.
91: Have] Rowe (ed. 2). Hath Qq Ff.
95: his] its Pope.
97: murrion] murrain Warburton.
99: in] on Collier MS.
101: want...here;] want;...here, Knight (Anon. conj.). chant,—...here; Grant White conj.
winter here] F3 F4. winter heere Qq F1 F2. winter chear Theobald conj. (withdrawn). winters heryed Warburton. wonted year Johnson conj. winter gere Brae conj.
101–114: Johnson proposes to arrange in the following order: 101, 107–114, 102–104, 106, 105.
106: thorough] Q1 F2 F3. through Q2 F1 F4.
107: hoary] Q1 F3 F4. hoared Q2 F1 F2.
109: thin] Halliwell (Tyrwhitt conj.). chinne Qq F1 F2. chin F3 F4. chill Grey conj.
112: childing] chiding Pope.
113: mazed] amazed Rowe.
114: increase] inverse Hanmer. inchase Warburton.
115: evils comes] F2 F3. evils, Comes Qq F1. evil comes F4.
122: The fairy] Thy fairy Collier MS.
123: votaress] votresse Qq Ff.
127: on] Qq F1 F2. of F3 F4.
131: Following,—her...squire,—] Following (her womb...squire) Qq Ff. (Following...squire) Steevens (Kenrick conj.). Follying (her...squire) Theobald (Warburton). Her fellowing womb... Becket conj.
rich] ripe Collier MS.
136: do I] Q1. I do Q2 Ff.
144: fairy] om. Steevens (Farmer conj.).
Fairies] Elves Pope.
149: once] Qq F1. om. F2 F3 F4. that Rowe.
155: saw] Q1. say Q2 Ff.
157: all arm’d] alarm’d Theobald (Warburton).
158: the] Ff. om. Qq.
160: should] would F4.
162: Quench’d] Quench F3 F4.
163: votaress] votresse Qq Ff.
172: it sees] is seen Collier MS.
175: I’ll] I’d Collier MS.
round] Q1. om. Q2 Ff.
177: when] whence Q2.
179: then] Q1. when Q2 Ff. which Rowe.
181: on meddling] or meddling Rowe.
183: from off] from of Q1 off from Q2 Ff.
188: Scene iii. Pope.
190: slay......slayeth] Theobald (Thirlby conj.). stay...stayeth Qq Ff.
191: unto] Qq. into Ff.
192: wode...wood] Hanmer. wodde...wood Q1. wood...wood Q2 Ff.
197: you] om. F3 F4.
201: nor] Ff. not Qq. and Pope.
202: you] Q1. thee Q2 Ff.
206: lose] loathe Anon. ap. Halliwell conj.
208: can] can can F2.
210: use] Qq. do Ff. do use Reed.
220, 221: privilege: for that It is] Qq Ff. privilege for that. It is Malone (Tyrwhitt conj.).
235: questions] question Steevens conj.
238: the field] Q1. and field Q2 Ff.
242: [Exit Dem.] om. Qq Ff. Demetrius breaks from her and exit. Capell.
243: I’ll] Ile Qq. I Ff.
244: [Exit] Q2 Ff. om. Q1.
245: Scene iv. Pope.
246: Re-enter Puck] Enter Pucke. Qq Ff (after line 247).
247: Hast thou...wanderer] Welcome wanderer; hast thou the flower there] Jackson conj.
249: where] whereon Pope.
250: oxlips] Q1. oxslips Q2 Ff. the oxslips Rowe. oxslip Pope. oxlip Theobald.
oxlips...violets] violets...ox-lip Keightley conj.
251: Quite] om. Pope.
over-canopied] overcanopi’d Q1. overcanoped Q2. over-cannoped Ff. O’er cannopy’d Pope.
luscious] Ff. lushious Qq. lush Steevens (Theobald conj.).
253–256: Keightley proposes to arrange, 255, 256, 253, 254, and would insert a line after 254, e.g. ‘Upon her will I steal there as she lies’.
253: sometime] some time Rowe.
254: flowers] bowers Grant White (Collier MS.).
with] from Hanmer.
256: wrap] F2 F3 F4. wrappe Q1. rap Q2 F1.
257: And] There Hanmer.
266: fond on] fond of Rowe.
268: [Exeunt.] Qq. [Exit. Ff.
Scene ii.] Capell. Scene v. Pope. Scene iii. Steevens.
2: for] ’fore Theobald. in Heath conj.
a minute] the midnight Warburton.
7: spirits] sports Hanmer (Warburton).
9: Fir. Fairy.] Capell. Fairies sing. Qq Ff.
13, 24: chorus.] Capell. om. Qq Ff.
14: in our] Qq. in your Ff. now your Collier MS.
20: Fir. Fairy.] 1. Fai. Q1. 1. Fairy. Q2. 2. Fairy Ff.
21: spinners] Q1 Ff. spinders Q2.
25: Sec. Fairy.] 2. Fai. Qq. 1. Fairy. Ff.
26: [Exeunt Fairies.] Rowe. om. Qq Ff.
Titania sleeps.] Shee sleepes. F1. om. Qq.
Enter...eyelids.] Capell. Enter Oberon. Qq Ff.
32: that] what Pope.
34: [Exit.] Rowe. om. Qq Ff.
35: Scene vi. Pope.
wood] Q1. woods Q2 Ff.
38: comfort] comfor Q1.
39: Be it] Q2 Ff Bet it Q1. Be ’t Pope.
45, 46: innocence!...conference] conference!...innocence Warburton.
46: takes] take Tyrwhitt conj.
conference] confidence Collier MS.
47: is] it Q1.
48: we can] Qq. can you Ff. can we Capell.
49: interchained] Qq. interchanged Ff.
57, 119: human] F4. humane Qq F1 F2 F3.
65: [They sleep.] Ff. om. Qq.
67: found] Q1. find Q2 Ff.
77: Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy] Near to this lack-love, this kill-curtesie Pope. Near to this kill-courtesie Theobald. Near to this lack-love kill-curtesie Warburton. Near this lack-love, kill-courtesy Steevens. Nearer this lack-love, this kill-courtesy S. Walker conj.
84: Scene vii. Pope.
Stay] Qq F1. Say F2 F3 F4.
87: [Exit.] Exit Demetrius. Ff. om. Qq.
96: marvel] mavaile F2.
100: Lysander! Capell. Lysander Qq Ff.
104: Helena] Helen Pope.
Nature shows] Nature shewes Qq. Nature her shewes F1. Nature here shews F2 F3 F4. Nature shews her Singer (Malone conj.).
105: thy heart] my heart S. Walker conj.
106: is] Qq F1. om. F2 F3 F4.
113: I love] Q1. now I love Q2 Ff.
118: ripe not] not ripe Rowe (ed. 2).
122: Love’s stories] Love-stories S. Walker conj.
127: Demetrius’] Rowe (ed. 2). Demetrius Qq Ff. Demetrius’s Rowe (ed. 1).
138: the stomach] Qq F1. a stomach F2 F3 F4.
140: they] Qq. that Ff.
143: your] their Collier MS.
147: Ay me] Ah me Capell.
150: you] Qq. yet Ff.
154: swoon] swoune Q1. swound Q2 F2 F3 F4. sound F1.
156: Either] Or Pope.
Scene i. Titania lying asleep.] om. Qq Ff.
Enter...] Enter the Clowns. Qq Ff.
2: Pat, pat] Qq F1. Par, pat F2 F3 F4.
marvellous] marvailes Q1. marvels Capell. See note (ii).
12: By’r lakin] Berlakin Q1. Berlaken Q2 Ff.
15: device] devise Q1.
18: the more better] the better Rowe (ed. 2). more better Pope.
23, 24: eight and eight] eighty eight Anon. ap. Halliwell conj. MS.
25: afeard] afraid Rowe (ed. 2).
27: yourselves] Ff. your selfe Qq.
30: to ’t] toote Q1. to it Q2 Ff.
35: defect] deffect Q2.
41: them] Qq. him Ff.
45: Snout.] Sn. Qq F1. Snug. F2 F3 F4.
47: Enter Pucke. Ff.
49: Bot.] Cet. Q1.
49, 50: great chamber window] great-chamber Anon. conj.
58: Snout.] Sno. Q1. Sn. Q2 F1. Snu. F2. Snug. F3 F4.
61: loam] lime Collier MS.
62: and] Delius (Collier MS.). or Qq Ff.
68: Scene ii. Pope.
Enter Puck behind.] Enter Robin. Qq Ff.
71: too perhaps] to perhappes Q1.
73, 75, 93: Bot.] Pir. Qq Ff.
73: flowers] flower Pope.
of] have Collier (Collier MS.).
savours] savour’s Rowe.
74: Odours, odours] Ff. Odours, odorous Qq.
76: hath] that Rowe (ed. 1). doth Rowe (ed. 2).
Malone supposes two lines to be lost here.
77: awhile] a whit Theobald.
79: Puck.] Ff. Quin. Qq.
[Exit.] Capell.
80, 83, 92: Flu.] This. Qq Ff.
81, 88, 94: Quin.] Pet. Qq Ff.
85: juvenal] juvenile Rowe (ed. 2).
92: Re-enter...head.] Capell. om. Qq Ff.
93: were fair, Thisby] were, fair Thisby Collier (Malone conj.).
95: [Exeunt......] om. Qq. The Clownes all Exit. F1. The Clowns all Exeunt. F2 F3 F4.
96: about] ’bout S. Walker conj.
97: Through bog,] Through bog, through mire Johnson conj. Through bog, through burn Ritson conj.
99: headless] heedless Delius conj.
101: Enter Piramus with the Asse head. Ff. om. Qq.
104, 105: see on thee?] see on thee? an ass’s head? Johnson conj.
113: I will] will F3 F4.
114: ousel] woosel Qq Ff.
117: with little] Qq. and little Ff.
127–129: As in Q1. In Q2 Ff line 129, On the first view, &c. precedes 127, So is mine eye...
130: mistress] mistresse Qq F1. maistresse F2 F3. maistress F4.
145: dost] doth F3 F4.
148: Peaseblossom...Mustardseed!] Qq. Enter Pease-blossom...Mustardseede and foure fairies. Ff (as a stage direction).
Moth] Mote Grant White.
149: Scene iii. Pope.
Enter...] Enter foure Fairyes. Q1 (Fairies) Q2.
First Fai. Ready... All. Where shall we go?] Capell. Fairies. Ready; and I, and I, and I. Where shall we go? Qq Ff. 1. Fai. Ready. 2. Fai. And I. 3. Fai. And I. 4. Fai. Where shall we go? Steevens (Farmer conj.).
154: The honey-bags] Their honey-bags Collier MS.
161–164: First Fai. Hail, mortal... Fourth Fai. Hail!] Capell. 1. Fai. Haile, mortall, haile. 2. Fai. Haile. 3: Fai. Haile Qq Ff.
168: you of] Qq Ff. of you Rowe.
174: you of] Qq. of you Ff.
176: After this line F1 inserts Peas. Pease-blossome (in italics): omitted in F2 F3 F4.
177: your patience] your parentage Hanmer. your passions Farmer conj. you passing Mason conj.
180: hath] have Capell conj.
181: your more] F3 F4. you more Qq F1 F2. more of your Rowe. you, more Capell. you of more Collier MS.
184: weeps, weeps] Q1. weepes, weepe Q2 Ff.
186: love’s] Pope. lovers Qq Ff.
love’s tongue,] lover’s tongue and Collier MS.
Scene ii.] Scene iv. Pope.
Enter Oberon.] Enter King of Fairies and Robin Goodfellow. Qq. Enter King of Fairies (Pharies F1), solus Ff.
3: Enter Puck.] Ff. om. Qq.
4: spirit] sprite Pope.
5: haunted] gaunted F1.
6, 7: love. Near...bower,] Rowe. love, Neare...bower. Q1 love, Neere...bower, Q2 Ff.
13: thick-skin] thick-skull Hanmer.
17: nole] nowl Johnson.
19: mimic] Mimmick F1 F2 F3. Mimick F4. Minnick Q1. Minnock Q2. mammock Ritson conj.
21: russet-pated] Q1 F4. russed-pated Q2 F1 F2 F3.
25: our stamp] a stump Johnson (Theobald conj.).
30: yielders] F3 F4. yeelders Qq F1 F2.
36: latch’d] latcht Q1 F3 F4. lacht Q2 F1 F2. lech’d Hanmer. laced Anon. conj.
40: waked] wak’t Qq Ff. wakes Pope.
41: Scene v. Pope.
48, 49: Being...too] Printed as one line in Qq Ff. Corrected by Rowe (ed. 2).
48: the deep] knee deep Phelps (Coleridge conj.).
52: From] Frow Q1.
54: displease] disease Hanmer.
55: with the] i’ th’ Warburton.
57: dead] dread Pope.
58: murder’d] murthered Q1. murdered Q2. murderer Ff.
60: look] looke Qq. looks Ff.
64: I had] Q1. Ide Q2. I’de Ff. I’d Rowe. I’ad Pope.
65: bounds] bonds Q2.
68: tell true, tell true] Q1. tell true Q2 F1. tell true, and F2 F3 F4.
69: have] Qq. a Ff.
70: touch] tutch Qq Ff.
72: An] And F2.
74: on] in Steevens conj.
on a misprised mood] in a misprised flood Collier MS.
80, 81: part I so: See me no more, whether] Pope. part I: see me no more; Whether Qq Ff.
85: sleep] Rowe. slippe Q1. slip Q2 Ff.
87: [Lies down and sleeps.] Collier. [Ly doune. Q1. [Lie downe. Q2 Ff.
88: Scene vi. Pope.
94: Obe.] Ob. Qq F1 F3 F4. Rob. F2.
97: costs] Qq Ff. cost Hanmer.
99: do] Qq. doth Ff.
100: look] look, master, Hanmer.
101: [Exit] Q2 Ff. om. Q1.
109: her] her, Q1.
122: Scene vii. Pope.
123: come] Qq. comes Ff.
137: [Awaking.] om. Qq. Awa. Ff (at the end of line 136).
143, 144: O...white, this] This...white—O Becket conj.
144: princess] pureness Hanmer. impress Collier MS.
145: all are] Qq. are all Ff.
150: you must join in souls] you must join in flouts Hanmer. must join insolents Warburton. you must join in soul Mason conj. you must join, ill souls, Tyrwhitt conj.
151: were] Qq. are Ff.
164: here] heare Q1.
166: of] in Collier (Collier MS.).
167: will do] will love Edd. conj.
till] Q1. to Q2 Ff.
171: to her] with her Johnson.
172: is it] Q1. it is Q2 Ff.
173: There] There ever Pope.
Helen,] Q1. om. Q2 Ff.
175: aby] Q1. abide Q2 Ff.
dear] here S. Walker conj.
177: Scene viii. Pope.
182: thy] Qq. that Ff.
188: oes] orbs Grey conj.
190: bear] F4. bare Qq F1 F2 F3.
199: sisters’] sisters Qq Ff. sister Capell.
201: O, is all] Qq F1. O, and is all F2 F3 F4. O, is all now Malone. O, now is all Reed. O, is it all Spedding conj.
202: school-days’] school-day Capell.
childhood] childhoods F3 F4.
204: Have...created both] Created with our needles both Pope. See note (v).
needles] neelds Steevens.
210: yet] om. F3 F4.
an] Qq F4. a F1 F2 F3.
211: lovely] loving Collier MS.
213: first, like] Theobald (Folkes conj.). first life Qq Ff.
213, 214: Omitted in Collier MS.
215: rent] rend Rowe.
218: for it] for’t S. Walker conj.
220: I am amazed at your passionate words] Ff. I am amazed at your words Qq. Helen, I am amazed at your words Pope.
237: Ay, do, persever] I do, persever Q2 Ff. I doe. Persever Q1. Ay, do, persevere Rowe.
238: Make mouths] Make mows Steevens.
241: have] had Collier (Collier MS.).
243: my] Q1. mine Q2 Ff.
246: my life] Qq F1. omitted in F2 F3 F4.
250: prayers] Theobald. praise Qq Ff. prays Capell (Theobald conj.).
257: Ethiope] Ethiope you Heath conj.
257, 258: No, no; He’ll...Seem to break loose] Edd. No, no; heele Seeme to breake loose Q1. No, no, hee’l seeme to breake loose (as one line) Q2. No, no, sir, seem to break loose (as one line) Ff. No, no he’ll seem To break away Pope. No, no; he’ll not come.—Seem to break loose Capell. No, no; he’ll—sir, Seem to break loose Malone. No, no; sir:—he will Seem to break loose Steevens. No, no, he’ll not stir: Seem to break loose Jackson conj. See note (iii).
258: you] he Pope.
260: burr] bur Qq F1. but F2 F3 F4.
264: hated] Pope. O hated Qq Ff.
potion] Q1. poison Q2 Ff.
271: hate] harm F4.
272: news] means Singer (Collier MS.)
279: of doubt] doubt Pope. om. Anon conj.
282: juggler! you] jugler, you! you Capell.
289: why so?] Qq Ff. why, so: Theobald.
way goes] ways go Rowe.
292: tall personage] tall parsonage Q2.
299: gentlemen] gentleman Q1.
304: she is] Qq F1 F2 F3. she’s F4.
320: Hel.] Her. F1 F2.
321: shall] will F4.
Helena] Helen Anon. conj.
323: she’s] Q2 Ff. she is Q1.
329: You minimus] You minim, you Theobald conj.
335: aby] Q1. abie Q2. abide Ff.
337: Of] Or Theobald. See note (iv).
Of...mine] Of mine or thine Malone conj.
340: you, I] you Rowe (ed. 1).
344: I...say] omitted in Ff.
[Exit.] Exit pursuing Helena. Malone.
345: Scene ix. Pope.
Enter Oberon and Puck. Ff.
346: wilfully] Qq. willingly Ff.
349: had] Q1. hath Q2 Ff.
351: ’nointed] nointed Qq Ff.
352: so did] did so Rowe.
357: fog] fogs Warburton.
368: his] its Rowe.
374: employ] imploy Q1 F4. apply Q2. imply F1 F2 F3.
379: night’s swift] Q1. night swift Q2. night-swift F1. nights-swift F2 F3 F4.
386: exile] exil’d Theobald conj., making Oberon’s speech begin with this line.
389: morning’s love] Qq F1. morning love F2 F3 F4. morning-love Rowe (ed. 1). morning-light Id. (ed. 2).
392: fair blessed] far-blessing Hanmer (Warburton).
393: salt green] sea-green Grey conj.
394: notwithstanding,] Q1. not-withstanding Q2 Ff.
396, 437, 448: Puck.] Puck [sings]. Anon. conj.
406: Speak! In some bush?] Capell. Speak in some bush. Qq. Speak in some bush: Ff.
413: Re-enter...] om. Qq Ff.
414: calls, then he is] Q1. call’s then he’s Q2 F1. calls me, then he’s F2 F3 F4.
416: [Shifting places. Ff.
418: [Lies down.] Lie down. Ff. om. Qq.
420: [Sleeps.] Capell.
421: Ho, ho, ho!] Ho, ho; ho, ho! Capell.
425: now] Q1. om. Q2 Ff.
426: buy] Qq Ff. ’by Collier (Johnson conj.).
430: [Lies...] Capell.
431: Scene x. Pope.
432: Shine comforts] Q2 Ff. Shine comforts, Q1. Shine, comforts, Theobald.
435: sometimes] Qq F3 F4. sometime F1 F2.
436: [Lies...] Sleep. Qq Ff.
437: three?] three here? Hanmer.
438: makes] Qq F1 F2 F4. make F3.
439: comes] cometh Hanmer.
442: Re-enter...] Enter H. after line 440. F1 F2.
447: Heavens] Heaven Anon. conj.
[Lies...] om. Qq Ff.
449: Sleep] Sleep thou Capell. Sleep you Seymour conj.
451: To your eye] Rowe. your eye Qq Ff.
452: [Squeezing...] Rowe.
454: Thou] Then thou Seymour conj. See thou Tyrwhitt conj.
takest] Qq F1 F4. rak’st F2 F3.
463: well] still Steevens conj.
[They sleep all the Act. Ff.
Enter...] Enter Queen of Fairies, and Clown, and Fairies, and the King behind them. Qq Ff.
7: Mounsieur] Qq Ff. Monsieur Rowe. See note (vii).
10: get you] Q1. get Q2 Ff.
18: your] thy Pope.
neaf] neafe Qq F1. newfe F2. newse F3. news F4.
Mustardseed] Qq F1 F2. Mustard F3 F4.
21: Cavalery] Qq F1. Cavalero F2 F3 F4.
22: Cobweb] Peas-blossom Grey conj.
23: marvellous] marvailes Q1 marvels Capell. See note (ii).
24: do] doth Rowe (ed. 2).
25: some] some some Q2.
26: Let’s] Q1. Let us Q2 Ff.
27: tongs] tongues F2.
Musick Tongs, Rural Musick. Ff. om. Q1.
32, 33: Printed in Q2 Ff as three lines ending fairy...hoard...nuts.
33: hoard] Q2 Ff. om. Q1.
thee] thee thence Hanmer. thee the S. Walker conj.
38: all ways] Theobald. alwaies Qq F1. alwayes F2 F3. always F4. a while Hanmer.
all ways away] away—away Upton conj. always i’ th’ way Heath conj.
39: Qq and Ff punctuate woodbine,...honisuckle,...entwist;
woodbine] woodrine Upton conj. weedbind Steevens conj.
40: entwist; the female] entwist the maple; Warburton conj.
40, 41: entwist;......Enrings] entwist,...Enring, Capell.
46: favours] Q1 F4. savours Q2 F1 F2 F3.
52: flowerets’] flouriets Qq Ff.
57: fairy] Qq Ff. fairies Dyce.
62: this] the Johnson.
63: other] others Rowe.
68: Be] Qq. Be thou Ff.
70: o’er] Theobald (Thirlby conj.). or Qq Ff.
76: do] Q1 F2 F3 F4. doth Q2 F1.
his] Q1. this Q2 Ff.
77: this] Qq. his Ff.
79: sleep of all these five] Theobald (Thirlby conj.). sleepe: of all these, fine Qq F1 F2. sleep; of all these find F3 F4. sleep. Of all these fine Rowe (ed. 2).
80: ho!] howe Q1.
81: Now, when thou wakest] Q1. When thou wak’st Q2 F1. When thou awak’st F2 F3 F4.
87: fair prosperity] Q1. fair posterity Q2 Ff. far posterity Hanmer.
88: the] Qq F1. these F2 F3 F4.
90: Fairy] Qq. Faire F1 F2. Fair F3 F4.
92: sad] fade Theobald.
93: the night’s] Rowe. the nights Q2 Ff. nights Q1.
98: After this line Ff give the stage direction [Sleepers lye still.
99: [Horns......within.] [Winde horne. Q1. [Winde hornes. Q2 Ff.
100. Scene ii. Pope.
104: let them] om. Pope.
110: bear] Qq Ff. boar Hanmer.
113: fountains] mountains Anon. ap. Theobald conj.
114: Seem’d] F2 F3 F4. Seeme Qq F1.
119: Thessalian] Thessalonian F4.
125: is] om. Q1.
127: Nedar’s] Nestor’s S. Walker conj.
128: of their] Q1. of this Q2 Ff. at their Pope.
130: rite] Pope. right Qq Ff.
136: [He and the rest kneel to Theseus. Capell.
141: is] is is F1.
149, 150: might,...law.] might...lawe, Q1. might be...law. Q2 Ff. might,...law,— Dyce. might Be without peril...law. Hanmer.
160: following] Q1. followed Q2 Ff.
162–164: Qq and Ff end the lines at love...snow...gaud.
163: Melted as] Is melted as Pope. Melted as doth Capell. All melted as Anon. conj.
169: saw Hermia] Steevens. see Hermia Qq Ff. did see Hermia Rowe (ed. 1). Hermia saw Rowe (ed. 2).
170: in sickness] Steevens (Farmer conj.). a sickness Qq Ff.
172: I do] Q1. do I Q2 Ff.
175: more will hear] Q1. will hear more Q2. shall hear more Ff.
183: Come, Hippolyta] Come, my Hippolita Capell.
184: Dem.] Lys. Capell conj.
[Exeunt...] Exit Duke and Lords. Ff.
188: like] om. Hanmer.
jewel] gemell Theobald (Warburton).
189, 190: Are you sure That we are awake?] Qq. omitted in Ff. But are you sure That we are well awake Capell. But are you sure That we are now awake Steevens conj. Are you sure That we are now awake Malone conj. Are you sure That we are yet awake Anon. conj.
194: did bid] Q1. bid Q2 Ff.
195, 196: Printed as prose in Qq Ff, as verse in Rowe (ed. 2).
196: let us] Q2 Ff. lets Q1.
197: Scene iii. Pope.
[Awaking] Bottom wakes. Ff. om. Qq.
201: I have had a dream] Qq. I had a dream Ff.
203: to] om. Q1.
205: a patched] Ff. patcht a Qq. {Transcriber's Note: this linenote has been copied to this location from the original book's ADDENDA.}
212: a play] the play Hanmer. our play S. Walker conj.
213: at her] after Theobald. at Thisby’s Collier MS.
Scene ii.] Scene iv. Pope.
1: Enter...] Enter Quince, Flute, Thisby, and the rabble. Qq. Enter Quince, Flute, Thisby, Snout, and Starveling. Ff.
3: Star.] Ff. Flute. Qq.
5, 6: goes not] Qq F1 F2. goes F3 F4.
11: Quin.] Snout. Halliwell conj.
13: Flu.] Quin. Anon. conj.
14: naught] F2 F3 F4. nought Qq F1.
19: scaped] scraped Grey conj.
27: no] Ff. not Qq.
28: right] Qq. om. Ff.
30: All that] all Rowe.
34: preferred] proffered Theobald conj.
38, 39: doubt but] Qq F1 F2. doubt F3 F4.
40: go, away!] go away Qq Ff.
Enter...] see note (viii).
5, 6: apprehend More than] Theobald. apprehend more Than Qq Ff.
5–8: Printed in Q1 as three lines, ending more...lunatic...compact.
6: cool] cooler Pope.
10: That is, the madman:] The madman. While Pope.
12, 13: Q1 ends these lines with glance...and as, Q2 F1 with glance...heaven.
14–18: These five lines printed as four in Qq Ff, ending things...shapes...habitation...imagination.
16: shapes] shape Pope.
airy] Q2. ayery Q1. aire F1 F3. ayre F2. air F4.
19: if it would] if he would Rowe (ed. 2).
21: Or] So Hanmer.
21, 22: Or...bear!] Grant White conjectures that these lines are interpolated.
29: days of love] F2 F3 F4. days Of love Qq F1.
30, 31: More......bed!] Printed as prose in Qq F1, as verse first in Q2.
31: Wait in] Wait on Rowe.
33, 34: The lines end between...manager in Q1. Corrected in Q2.
34: our] Ff. or Qq.
38: Philostrate] Qq. Egeus Ff.
38, 42, 61: Phil.] Qq. Ege. Ff.
42: There] Here Anon. ap. Halliwell conj.
ripe] Q1. rife Q2 Ff.
43: [Giving a paper.] Theobald.
44: The. [reads] The. Qq. Lys. Ff. See note (ix).
Centaurs] centaur F4.
58–60: Printed as prose in Qq Ff.
59: That is...snow] omitted by Pope.
ice] Ise Q1.
and wondrous strange snow] and wond’rous scorching snow Hanmer. a wondrous strange shew Warburton. and wondrous strange black snow Capell (Upton conj.). and wonderous strong snow Mason conj. and wondrous seething snow Collier (Collier MS.). and wondrous swarthy snow Staunton conj. and wondrous staining snow Nicholson conj.
61: there is] it is Hanmer. this is Collier (Collier MS.).
66–70: Qq F1 end the lines Pyramus,...saw...water...laughter...shed. Corrected in F2.
75: nuptial] Qq F1. nuptials F2 F3 F4.
76, 77: Qq Ff end these lines hear it...heard. Corrected by Rowe (ed. 2).
79: Johnson supposes a line to be lost after intents.
80: conn’d] penn’d Kenrick conj.
81, 82: I...thing] As one line in Qq Ff. Corrected by Rowe (ed. 2).
91: poor duty] poor willing duty Theobald. poor duty meaning Spedding conj.
do] do aright Seymour conj. do, yet would Coleridge conj.
91, 92: noble respect Takes] Noble respect takes Theobald.
92: it in might, not] not in might, but Johnson conj. it in mind, not Spedding conj.
105: Re-enter...] Enter... Theobald. Enter Philomon. Pope.
106: Phil.] Qq. Egeus. Ff.
107: Flourish of trumpets.] Flor. Trum. Ff. om. Qq.
108: Scene ii. Pope.
Enter Quince for the Prologue] Rowe. Enter the Prologue. Qq. Enter the Prologue. Quince. F1 F2. Enter Prologue. Quince. F3 F4.
114–117: Pope alters the punctuation here.
118: points] his points Collier (Collier MS.).
120: A good] Dem. A good Edd. conj.
122: his] Ff. this Qq.
123: a recorder] Qq F1. the recorder F2 F3 F4.
124: chain] skein Anon. conj.
125: next] Qq F1. the next F2 F3 F4.
125: [Tawyer with a trumpet before them. Ff. See note (x).
Enter...] Enter... as in dumb show. Capell.
130: lime] loam Capell conj. MS.
131: that] Qq F1. the F2 F3 F4.
138: grisly] grizy F1.
Lion hight by name] by name Lion hight Theobald.
139: Malone conjectures that a line has been lost after night.
141: did fall] let fall Pope.
144: trusty] Qq. om. F1. gentle F2 F3 F4.
147: And Thisby, tarrying] Qq Ff. And, Thisby tarrying Malone.
in] in the F3 F4.
150: [Exeunt...] Exit Lyon, Thisby, and Moonshine. Qq (after line 153). Exit all but Wall. Ff (which repeat the stage direction of Qq).
155: Snout] Ff. Flute Qq.
158: Pyramus] Pyr’mus Theobald.
Thisby] This-be Theobald.
160: loam] F3 F4. lome Qq. loame F1 F2. lime Reed. See note (xi).
172: O sweet, O] Qq. thou sweet and Ff. O sweet and Pope.
173: stand’st] Q1. stands Q2 Ff.
175: [Wall...fingers.] Capell.
183: now] Qq. om. Ff.
184: it will fall pat...comes Enter Thisbe.] Qq. it will fall. [Enter Thisbie.] Pat...comes Ff.
189: hair] hayire Q1.
up in thee] Ff. now againe Qq.
190: see] Qq F1. heare F2 F3 F4.
191: hear] Qq F1. see F2 F3 F4.
193: love thou art, my love] Qq Ff. love! thou art, my love, Theobald.
195: Limander] Limandea Pope.
196: I] Qq F2. om. F1 F3 F4.
202: [Exeunt P. and T.] Dyce.
204: [Exit.] Exit Clow. Ff. om. Qq. [Exeunt Wall, P. and T. Capell.
205: The.] Duk. Qq Ff.
mural down] Pope (ed. 2). Moon used Qq. morall downe Ff. mure all down Hanmer. wall down Collier MS.
208: hear] rear Hanmer (Warburton). disappear Heath conj.
209: Hip.] Dutch. Qq Ff.
ever] Q1. ere Q2 Ff.
214: come] Qq. com F1. comes F2 F3 F4.
215: beasts in, a man] Rowe (ed. 2). beasts, in a man Qq Ff. beasts—in a moon Theobald conj. beasts in, a moon-calf Farmer conj. beasts in, a man in a lion Jackson conj.
220: one] Ff. as Qq.
221: A lion-fell] Singer. A lion fell Qq Ff. No lion fell Rowe. A lion’s fell Dyce (Barron Field conj.).
223: on] Qq. of Ff. o’ Capell conj. MS.
my] your Collier MS.
232: listen] Q1. hearken Q2 Ff.
moon] man Anon. conj.
235: no] not Collier (Collier MS.).
238: do] Qq. doth Ff.
244: aweary] Q1. weary Q2 Ff.
246: his] this Pope.
253, 254: for all these] Q1. for they Q2 Ff.
255: old...tomb] ould...tumbe Q1.
Where is] wher’s Q2.
256: [The Lion roares, Thisby runs off. Ff. om. Qq.
260: a] om. Rowe (ed. 1).
[The Lion......exit.] Capell. om. Ff Qq.
261: moused] mouz’d Qq Ff. mouth’d Rowe.
262, 263: And then...vanished] and so...And then the moon vanishes Steevens (Farmer conj.). Mr Spedding conjectures that these lines should be transposed.
266: gleams] Staunton (Knight conj.). streams F2 F3 F4. beames Qq F1.
267: take] Qq. taste Ff.
Thisby] Qq. Thisbies Ff.
273: dear] deare Qq. Deere F1 F2. Deer F3 F4.
276: ye] Qq. you Ff.
280, 281: Printed as verse in Ff, ending friend...sad.
280: and] on Collier MS.
284: dear] deare Qq. deere F1 F2. Deer F3 F4.
291: [Stabs himself.] om. Qq Ff.
296: Tongue] Sun Halliwell conj.
lose] Q2 Ff. loose Q1.
297: [Exit M.] Capell. om. Qq Ff.
298: [Dies.] Capell. om. Qq Ff.
303: and prove] Q2 Ff. and yet prove Q1.
304: Moonshine] the Moon-shine F3 F4.
before Thisbe] Rowe. before? Thisby Qq Ff.
310: mote] Steevens (Heath conj.). moth Qq Ff.
311, 312: he for a man...God bless us] Qq. omitted in Ff.
311: warrant] warnd Qq.
314: means] Qq Ff. moans Theobald.
320: thy] my F3 F4.
321, 322: These...nose] These lips lily, This nose cherry Farmer conj. This lily lip, This cherry tip Collier (Collier MS.).
321: lips] brows Theobald.
322: nose] nip Grant White conj.
330: Lay] Love Theobald.
332: his] this F3 F4.
335: [Stabs herself.] om. Qq Ff.
341: Bot.] Ff. Lyon. Qq.
[Starting up] Capell.
347: need] be Capell conj.
Marry] Mary Q1.
348: hanged] Qq. hung Ff.
351: [A dance.] A dance and exeunt clowns. Capell. om. Qq Ff. Here a dance of clowns. Rowe.
360: Scene ii. Capell. Scene iii. Pope.
lion] Rowe. lions Qq Ff.
361: behowls] Theobald (Warburton). beholds Qq Ff.
363: fordone] foredoone Q1. foredone Q2 Ff.
365: screech-owl] scriech-owle Q1. scritch-owle Q2 Ff.
371: church-way] churchyard Poole’s Eng. Parnassus.
379: Enter...] Enter King and Queene of Fairies with all their traine. Q1. Enter... with their traine. Q2 Ff.
380: Through] Though Grant White.
the] this Warburton.
the house give] this house in Johnson conj.
386: your] Q1. this Q2 Ff.
389: [Song and dance.] Capell.
390–411: Given to Oberon in Qq. Called The Song in Ff and printed in italics. Restored to Oberon by Johnson. See note (xii).
403, 404: be. With...consecrate,] Qq Ff. be, With...consecrate. Collier MS.
408: Ever shall in safety] Qq Ff. Ever shall it safely Rowe (ed. 2). E’er shall it in safety Malone. See note (xiii).
408, 409: These lines are transposed by Staunton.
410: away;] away, then Hanmer.
411: Exeunt...] Capell. om. Qq Ff.
415: these] this Q2.
420: I am] I’m Capell.
an] om. F3 F4.
The Duke of Venice.
The Prince of Morocco2, suitor to Portia.
The Prince of Arragon, ” ”
Antonio, a merchant of Venice.
Bassanio, his friend, suitor likewise to Portia.
Salanio, friend to Antonio and Bassanio.
Salarino, ” ” ”
Gratiano, ” ” ”
Salerio3, ” ” ”
Lorenzo, in love with Jessica.
Shylock, a rich Jew.
Tubal, a Jew, his friend.
Launcelot Gobbo, the clown, servant to Shylock.
Old Gobbo, father to Launcelot.
Leonardo, servant to Bassanio.
Balthasar4, servant to Portia.
Stephano, ” ”
Portia, a rich heiress.
Nerissa, her waiting-maid.
Jessica, daughter to Shylock.
Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, Gaoler, Servants to Portia, and other Attendants.
Scene5—Partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the seat of Portia, on the Continent.
Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad:
It wearies me; you say it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff ’tis made of, whereof it is born,
005 I am to learn;
And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.
Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean;
There, where your argosies with portly sail,
010 Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood,
Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea,
Do overpeer the petty traffickers,
013 That curt’sy to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.
015 Salan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth,
The better part of my affections would
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind;
019 Peering in maps for ports, and piers, and roads;
020 And every object that might make me fear
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt
Would make me sad.
My wind, cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
024 What harm a wind too great at sea might do.
025 I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
But I should think of shallows and of flats,
027 And see my wealthy Andrew dock’d in sand
Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church
030 And see the holy edifice of stone,
And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks,
Which touching but my gentle vessel’s side,
033 Would scatter all her spices on the stream;
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks;
035 And, in a word, but even now worth this,
And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought
To think on this; and shall I lack the thought,
That such a thing bechanced would make me sad?
But tell not me; I know, Antonio
040 Is sad to think upon his merchandise.
Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it,
My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,
Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
Upon the fortune of this present year:
045 Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad.
046 Salar. Why, then you are in love.
Fie, fie!
047 Salar. Not in love neither? Then let us say you are sad,
048 Because you are not merry: and ’twere as easy
For you to laugh, and leap, and say you are merry,
050 Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus,
Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time:
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,
And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper;
054 And other of such vinegar aspect,
055 That they’ll not show their teeth in way of smile,
056 Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.
Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman,
058 Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare ye well:
We leave you now with better company.
060 Salar. I would have stay’d till I had made you merry,
If worthier friends had not prevented me.
Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard.
I take it, your own business calls on you,
And you embrace the occasion to depart.
065 Salar. Good morrow, my good lords.
Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? say, when?
You grow exceeding strange: must it be so?
068 Salar. We’ll make our leisures to attend on yours. [Exeunt Salarino and Salanio.
069 Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio,
070 We two will leave you: but, at dinner-time,
I pray you, have in mind where we must meet.
072 Bass. I will not fail you.
Gra. You look not well, Signior Antonio;
You have too much respect upon the world:
075 They lose it that do buy it with much care:
Believe me, you are marvellously changed.
Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano;
078 A stage, where every man must play a part,
And mine a sad one.
Let me play the fool:
080 With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come;
And let my liver rather heat with wine
082 Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,
084 Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?
085 Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice
By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio—,
087 I love thee, and it is my love that speaks,—
There are a sort of men, whose visages
089 Do cream and mantle like a standing pond;
090 And do a wilful stillness entertain,
With purpose to be dress’d in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;
093 As who should say, ‘I am Sir Oracle,
And, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!’
095 O my Antonio, I do know of these,
That therefore only are reputed wise
097 For saying nothing; when, I am very sure,
098 If they should speak, would almost damn those ears,
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools.
100 I’ll tell thee more of this another time:
But fish not, with this melancholy bait,
102 For this fool gudgeon, this opinion.
103 Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well awhile:
I’ll end my exhortation after dinner.
105 Lor. Well, we will leave you, then, till dinner-time:
I must be one of these same dumb wise men,
For Gratiano never lets me speak.
108 Gra. Well, keep me company but two years moe,
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.
110 Ant. Farewell: I’ll grow a talker for this gear.
Gra. Thanks, i’faith; for silence is only commendable
112 In a neat’s tongue dried, and a maid not vendible. [Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo.
113 Ant. Is that any thing now?
Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more
115 than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains
of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you shall seek all day
ere you find them: and when you have them, they are not
worth the search.
119 Ant. Well, tell me now, what lady is the same
120 To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage,
That you to-day promised to tell me of?
Bass. ’Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
How much I have disabled mine estate,
124 By something showing a more swelling port
125 Than my faint means would grant continuance:
Nor do I now make moan to be abridged
From such a noble rate; but my chief care
Is, to come fairly off from the great debts,
Wherein my time, something too prodigal,
130 Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio,
I owe the most, in money and in love;
And from your love I have a warranty
To unburden all my plots and purposes
How to get clear of all the debts I owe.
135 Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it;
And if it stand, as you yourself still do,
Within the eye of honour, be assured,
My purse, my person, my extremest means,
Lie all unlock’d to your occasions.
140 Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft,
I shot his fellow of the self-same flight
The self-same way with more advised watch,
143 To find the other forth; and by adventuring both,
I oft found both: I urge this childhood proof,
145 Because what follows is pure innocence.
146 I owe you much; and, like a wilful youth,
That which I owe is lost: but if you please
To shoot another arrow that self way
Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,
150 As I will watch the aim, or to find both,
Or bring your latter hazard back again,
And thankfully rest debtor for the first.
Ant. You know me well; and herein spend but time
To wind about my love with circumstance;
155 And out of doubt you do me now more wrong
In making question of my uttermost,
Than if you had made waste of all I have:
Then do but say to me what I should do,
That in your knowledge may by me be done,
160 And I am prest unto it: therefore, speak.
Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left;
And she is fair, and, fairer than that word,
163 Of wondrous virtues: sometimes from her eyes
164 I did receive fair speechless messages:
165 Her name is Portia; nothing undervalued
To Cato’s daughter, Brutus’ Portia:
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth;
For the four winds blow in from every coast
Renowned suitors: and her sunny locks
170 Hang on her temples like a golden fleece;
171 Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos’ strond,
172 And many Jasons come in quest of her.
O my Antonio, had I but the means
To hold a rival place with one of them,
175 I have a mind presages me such thrift,
That I should questionless be fortunate!
Ant. Thou know’st that all my fortunes are at sea;
178 Neither have I money, nor commodity
To raise a present sum: therefore go forth;
180 Try what my credit can in Venice do:
That shall be rack’d, even to the uttermost,
To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia.
Go, presently inquire, and so will I,
Where money is; and I no question make,
185 To have it of my trust, or for my sake. [Exeunt.
001 Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of this great world.
Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are: and 005 yet, for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit with too 006 much, as they that starve with nothing. It is no mean happiness, therefore, to be seated in the mean: superfluity comes sooner by white hairs; but competency lives longer.
Por. Good sentences, and well pronounced.
010 Ner. They would be better, if well followed.
Por. If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men’s cottages 013 princes’ palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own instructions: I can easier teach twenty what were good to be 015 done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may devise laws for the blood; but a hot temper leaps o’er a cold decree: such a hare is madness the youth, to skip o’er the meshes of good counsel the cripple. But 019 this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose me a husband. 020 O me, the word ‘choose’! I may neither choose whom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike; so is the will of a living 022 daughter curbed by the will of a dead father. Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none?
Ner. Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men, at 025 their death, have good inspirations: therefore, the lottery, that he hath devised in these three chests of gold, silver, and lead,—whereof who chooses his meaning chooses you,— 028 will, no doubt, never be chosen by any rightly, but one 029 who shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in your 030 affection towards any of these princely suitors that are already come?
032 Por. I pray thee, over-name them; and as thou namest them, I will describe them; and, according to my description, level at my affection.
035 Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince.
036 Por. Ay, that’s a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but 037 talk of his horse; and he makes it a great appropriation to 038 his own good parts, that he can shoe him himself. I am 039 much afeard my lady his mother played false with a smith.
040 Ner. 040 Then there is the County Palatine.
Por. He doth nothing but frown; as who should say, 042 ‘if you will not have me, choose:’ he hears merry tales, and smiles not: I fear he will prove the weeping philosopher when he grows old, being so full of unmannerly sadness in 045 his youth. I had rather be married to a death’s-head with a bone in his mouth than to either of these. God defend me from these two!
Ner. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le 049 Bon?
050 Por. God made him, and therefore let him pass for a 051 man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker: but, he! —why, he hath a horse better than the Neapolitan’s; a better bad habit of frowning than the Count Palatine: he is 054 every man in no man; if a throstle sing, he falls straight a 055 capering: he will fence with his own shadow: if I should marry him, I should marry twenty husbands. If he would despise me, I would forgive him; for if he love me to madness, 058 I shall never requite him.
059 Ner. What say you, then, to Falconbridge, the young 060 baron of England?
Por. You know I say nothing to him; for he understands not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latin, French, 063 nor Italian; and you will come into the court and swear 064 that I have a poor pennyworth in the English. He is a 065 proper man’s picture; but, alas, who can converse with a dumbshow? How oddly he is suited! I think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Germany, and his behaviour every where.
069 Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbour?
070 Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him; for he 071 borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman, and swore he would pay him again when he was able: I think the Frenchman became his surety, and sealed under for another.
075 Ner. How like you the young German, the Duke of Saxony’s nephew?
Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober; and most vilely in the afternoon, when he is drunk: when he is best, he is a little worse than a man; and when he is worst, 079 he is little better than a beast: an the worst fall that ever 080 fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without him.
Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose the right casket, you should refuse to perform your father’s will, if you should refuse to accept him.
Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee, set a 085 deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary casket; for, if the devil be within and that temptation without, I know 087 he will choose it. I will do any thing, Nerissa, ere I’ll be married to a sponge.
Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any of these 090 lords: they have acquainted me with their determinations; which is, indeed, to return to their home, and to trouble you with no more suit, unless you may be won by some 093 other sort than your father’s imposition, depending on the caskets.
095 Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner of my father’s will. I am glad this parcel of wooers are so reasonable; for there is not one among them but I dote on his 099 very absence; and I pray God grant them a fair departure.
100 Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your father’s 101 time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier, that came hither in company of the Marquis of Montferrat?
103 Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think he was so called.
105 Ner. True, madam: he, of all the men that ever my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady.
Por. I remember him well; and I remember him worthy of thy praise.
109 How now! what news?
110 Serv. The four strangers seek for you, madam, to take their leave: and there is a forerunner come from a fifth, the Prince of Morocco; who brings word, the prince his master will be here to-night.
114 Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good a 115 heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I should be glad of his approach: if he have the condition of a saint and the complexion of a devil, I had rather he should shrive me than wive me.
118 Come, Nerissa. Sirrah, go before.
Whiles we shut the gates upon one wooer, another knocks 120 at the door. [Exeunt.
Shy. Three thousand ducats; well.
Bass. Ay, sir, for three months.
003 Shy. For three months; well.
Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be 005 bound.
Shy. Antonio shall become bound; well.
Bass. May you stead me? will you pleasure me? shall I know your answer?
Shy. Three thousand ducats for three months, and 010 Antonio bound.
Bass. Your answer to that.
Shy. Antonio is a good man.
Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary?
014 Shy. Ho, no, no, no, no: my meaning, in saying he is 015 a good man, is to have you understand me, that he is sufficient. Yet his means are in supposition: he hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies; I understand, 018 moreover, upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a 019 fourth for England, and other ventures he hath, squandered 020 abroad. But ships are but boards, sailors but men: there be 021 land-rats and water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves, I mean pirates; and then there is the peril of waters, winds, and rocks. The man is, notwithstanding, sufficient. Three thousand ducats; I think I may take his bond.
025 Bass. Be assured you may.
Shy. I will be assured I may; and, that I may be assured, I will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio?
Bass. If it please you to dine with us.
029 Shy. Yes, to smell pork; to eat of the habitation 030 which your prophet the Nazarite conjured the devil into. I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so following; but I will not eat with you, drink 033 with you, nor pray with you. What news on the Rialto? 034 Who is he comes here?
035 Bass. This is Signior Antonio.
Shy. [Aside] How like a fawning publican he looks!
I hate him for he is a Christian;
But more for that in low simplicity
He lends out money gratis and brings down
040 The rate of usance here with us in Venice.
If I can catch him once upon the hip,
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
He hates our sacred nation; and he rails,
Even there where merchants most do congregate,
045 On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift,
Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe,
If I forgive him!
047 Shylock, do you hear?
Shy. I am debating of my present store;
And, by the near guess of my memory,
050 I cannot instantly raise up the gross
Of full three thousand ducats. What of that?
Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe,
Will furnish me. But soft! how many months
Do you desire? [To Ant.] Rest you fair, good signior;
055 Your worship was the last man in our mouths.
056 Ant. Shylock, although I neither lend nor borrow,
By taking nor by giving of excess,
058 Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend,
059 I’ll break a custom. Is he yet possess’d
How much ye would?
060 Ay, ay, three thousand ducats.
Ant. And for three months.
062 Shy. I had forgot; three months, you told me so.
063 Well then, your bond; and let me see; but hear you;
064 Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow
Upon advantage.
065 I do never use it.
Shy. When Jacob grazed his uncle Laban’s sheep,—
This Jacob from our holy Abram was,
As his wise mother wrought in his behalf,
The third possessor; ay, he was the third,—
070 Ant. And what of him? did he take interest?
Shy. No, not take interest; not, as you would say,
Directly interest: mark what Jacob did.
073 When Laban and himself were compromised
074 That all the eanlings which were streak’d and pied
075 Should fall as Jacob’s hire, the ewes, being rank,
076 In the end of autumn turned to the rams;
077 And when the work of generation was
Between these woolly breeders in the act,
079 The skilful shepherd peel’d me certain wands,
080 And, in the doing of the deed of kind,
He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes,
082 Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time
Fall parti-colour’d lambs, and those were Jacob’s.
This was a way to thrive, and he was blest:
085 And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not.
Ant. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob served for;
A thing not in his power to bring to pass,
But sway’d and fashion’d by the hand of heaven.
089 Was this inserted to make interest good?
090 Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams?
091 Shy. I cannot tell; I make it breed as fast:
But note me, signior.
Mark you this, Bassanio,
The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.
An evil soul, producing holy witness,
095 Is like a villain with a smiling cheek;
096 A goodly apple rotten at the heart:
097 O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!
Shy. Three thousand ducats; ’tis a good round sum.
099 Three months from twelve; then, let me see; the rate—
100 Ant. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to you?
Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft
102 In the Rialto you have rated me
About my moneys and my usances:
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug;
105 For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe.
106 You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog,
107 And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine,
And all for use of that which is mine own.
Well then, it now appears you need my help:
110 Go to, then; you come to me, and you say
111 ‘Shylock, we would have moneys:’ you say so;
You, that did void your rheum upon my beard,
And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur
Over your threshold: moneys is your suit.
115 What should I say to you? Should I not say
‘Hath a dog money? is it possible
117 A cur can lend three thousand ducats?’ or
Shall I bend low and in a bondman’s key,
With bated breath and whispering humbleness,
120 Say this,—
121 ‘Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last;
122 You spurn’d me such a day; another time
You call’d me dog; and for these courtesies
I’ll lend you thus much moneys’?
125 Ant. I am as like to call thee so again,
126 To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too.
If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not
128 As to thy friends; for when did friendship take
129 A breed for barren metal of his friend?
130 But lend it rather to thine enemy;
Who if he break, thou mayst with better face
132 Exact the penalty.
Why, look you, how you storm!
I would be friends with you, and have your love,
Forget the shames that you have stain’d me with,
135 Supply your present wants, and take no doit
Of usance for my moneys, and you’ll not hear me:
137 This is kind I offer.
138 Bass. This were kindness.
This kindness will I show.
Go with me to a notary, seal me there
140 Your single bond; and, in a merry sport,
If you repay me not on such a day,
In such a place, such sum or sums as are
Express’d in the condition, let the forfeit
Be nominated for an equal pound
145 Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken
146 In what part of your body pleaseth me.
147 Ant. Content, i’faith: I’ll seal to such a bond,
148 And say there is much kindness in the Jew.
Bass. You shall not seal to such a bond for me:
150 I’ll rather dwell in my necessity.
Ant. Why, fear not, man; I will not forfeit it:
Within these two months, that’s a month before
This bond expires, I do expect return
Of thrice three times the value of this bond.
155 Shy. O father Abram, what these Christians are,
156 Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect
The thoughts of others! Pray you, tell me this;
If he should break his day, what should I gain
By the exaction of the forfeiture?
160 A pound of man’s flesh taken from a man
Is not so estimable, profitable neither,
As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say,
To buy his favour, I extend this friendship:
If he will take it, so; if not, adieu;
165 And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not.
Ant. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond.
Shy. Then meet me forthwith at the notary’s;
Give him direction for this merry bond;
And I will go and purse the ducats straight;
170 See to my house, left in the fearful guard
Of an unthrifty knave; and presently
172 I will be with you.
Hie thee, gentle Jew. [Exit Shylock.
173 The Hebrew will turn Christian: he grows kind.
174 Bass. I like not fair terms and a villain’s mind.
175 Ant. Come on: in this there can be no dismay;
My ships come home a month before the day. [Exeunt.
Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion,
002 The shadow’d livery of the burnish’d sun,
To whom I am a neighbour and near bred.
004 Bring me the fairest creature northward born,
005 Where Phœbus’ fire scarce thaws the icicles,
And let us make incision for your love,
To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine.
I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine
Hath fear’d the valiant: by my love, I swear
010 The best-regarded virgins of our clime
011 Have loved it too: I would not change this hue,
Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen.
013 Por. In terms of choice I am not solely led
By nice direction of a maiden’s eyes;
015 Besides, the lottery of my destiny
Bars me the right of voluntary choosing:
But if my father had not scanted me
018 And hedged me by his wit, to yield myself
His wife who wins me by that means I told you,
020 Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair
As any comer I have look’d on yet
For my affection.
Even for that I thank you:
Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets.
024 To try my fortune. By this scimitar
025 That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,
027 I would outstare the sternest eyes that look,
Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth,
Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear,
030 Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey,
031 To win thee, lady. But, alas the while!
If Hercules and Lichas play at dice
Which is the better man, the greater throw
May turn by fortune from the weaker hand:
035 So is Alcides beaten by his page;
And so may I, blind fortune leading me.
Miss that which one unworthier may attain,
And die with grieving.
You must take your chance;
And either not attempt to choose at all,
040 Or swear before you choose, if you choose wrong,
Never to speak to lady afterward
In way of marriage: therefore be advised.
043 Mor. Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my chance.
Por. First, forward to the temple: after dinner
Your hazard shall be made.
045 Good fortune then!
046 To make me blest or cursed’st among men. [Cornets, and exeunt.
001 Laun. Certainly my conscience will serve me to run from this Jew my master. The fiend is at mine elbow, and 003 tempts me, saying to me, ‘Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot,’ or ‘good Gobbo,’ or ‘good Launcelot Gobbo, 005 use your legs, take the start, run away.’ My conscience says, ‘No; take heed, honest Launcelot; take heed, honest Gobbo,’ or, as aforesaid, ‘honest Launcelot Gobbo; do not 008 run; scorn running with thy heels.’ Well, the most courageous 009 fiend bids me pack: ‘Via!’ says the fiend; ‘away!’ 010 says the fiend; ‘for the heavens, rouse up a brave mind,’ says the fiend, ‘and run.’ Well, my conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, says very wisely to me, ‘My honest friend Launcelot, being an honest man’s son,’—or rather an honest woman’s son;—for, indeed, my father did 015 something smack, something grow to, he had a kind of taste;—well, my conscience says, ‘Launcelot, budge not.’ ‘Budge,’ says the fiend. ‘Budge not,’ says my conscience. ‘Conscience,’ say I, ‘you counsel well;’ ‘Fiend,’ say I, ‘you 019 counsel well:’ to be ruled by my conscience, I should stay 020 with the Jew my master, who, God bless the mark, is a kind of devil; and, to run away from the Jew, I should be ruled by the fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the devil 023 himself. Certainly the Jew is the very devil incarnal; 024 and, in my conscience, my conscience is but a kind of hard 025 conscience, to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew. The fiend gives the more friendly counsel: I will run, fiend; my 027 heels are at your command; I will run.
028 Gob. Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew’s?
030 Laun. [Aside] O heavens, this is my true-begotten father! who, being more than sand-blind, high-gravel blind, 032 knows me not: I will try confusions with him.
Gob. Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew’s?
035 Laun. Turn up on your right hand at the next turning, but, at the next turning of all, on your left; marry, at the very next turning, turn of no hand, but turn down indirectly 038 to the Jew’s house.
039 Gob. By God’s sonties, ’twill be a hard way to hit. 040 Can you tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him, dwell with him or no?
Laun. Talk you of young Master Launcelot? [Aside] Mark me now; now will I raise the waters. Talk you of young Master Launcelot?
045 Gob. No master, sir, but a poor man’s son: his father, 046 though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor man, and, God be thanked, well to live.
Laun. Well, let his father be what a’ will, we talk of young Master Launcelot.
050 Gob. Your worship’s friend, and Launcelot, sir.
Laun. But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech 052 you, talk you of young Master Launcelot?
Gob. Of Launcelot, an’t please your mastership.
Laun. Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master 055 Launcelot, father; for the young gentleman, according to Fates and Destinies and such odd sayings, the Sisters 057 Three and such branches of learning, is indeed deceased; or, as you would say in plain terms, gone to heaven.
Gob. Marry, God forbid! the boy was the very staff of 060 my age, my very prop.
Laun. Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff 062 or a prop? Do you know me, father?
Gob. Alack the day, I know you not, young gentleman: but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy, God rest his 065 soul, alive or dead?
Laun. Do you not know me, father?
Gob. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind; I-know you not.
Laun. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might fail of the knowing me: it is a wise father that knows his own 070 child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son: 071 give me your blessing: truth will come to light; murder 072 cannot be hid long; a man’s son may; but, at the length, 073 truth will out.
Gob. Pray you, sir, stand up: I am sure you are not 075 Launcelot, my boy.
Laun. Pray you, let’s have no more fooling about it, but give me your blessing: I am Launcelot, your boy that was, your son that is, your child that shall be.
Gob. I cannot think you are my son.
080 Laun. I know not what I shall think of that: but I am Launcelot, the Jew’s man; and I am sure Margery your wife is my mother.
Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed: I’ll be sworn, if thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood. 085 Lord worshipped might he be! what a beard hast thou got! thou hast got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my 087 fill-horse has on his tail.
Laun. It should seem, then, that Dobbin’s tail grows backward: I am sure he had more hair of his tail than 090 I have of my face when I last saw him.
Gob. Lord, how art thou changed! How dost thou and thy master agree? I have brought him a present. 093 How ’gree you now?
Laun. Well, well: but, for mine own part, as I have 095 set up my rest to run away, so I will not rest till I have run some ground. My master’s a very Jew: give him a present! give him a halter: I am famished in his service; 098 you may tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come: give me your present to one 100 Master Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare new liveries: if 101 I serve not him, I will run as far as God has any ground. O rare fortune! here comes the man: to him, father; for 103 I am a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer.
Bass. You may do so; but let it be so hasted, that 105 supper be ready at the farthest by five of the clock. See these letters delivered; put the liveries to making; and 107 desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging. [Exit a Servant.
Laun. To him, father.
Gob. God bless your worship!
110 Bass. Gramercy! wouldst thou aught with me?
Gob. Here’s my son, sir, a poor boy,—
Laun. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew’s man; that would, sir,—as my father shall specify,—
Gob. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, 115 to serve,—
Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, and have a desire,—as my father shall specify,—
Gob. His master and he, saving your worship’s reverence, are scarce cater-cousins,—
120 Laun. To be brief, the very truth is that the Jew, having done me wrong, doth cause me,—as my father, 122 being, I hope, an old man, shall frutify unto you,—
Gob. I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow upon your worship, and my suit is,—
125 Laun. In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself, as your worship shall know by this honest old man; and, though I say it, though old man, yet poor man, my father.
Bass. One speak for both. What would you?
Laun. Serve you, sir.
130 Gob. That is the very defect of the matter, sir.
Bass. I know thee well; thou hast obtain’d thy suit:
Shylock thy master spoke with me this day,
And hath preferr’d thee, if it be preferment
To leave a rich Jew’s service, to become
135 The follower of so poor a gentleman.
Laun. The old proverb is very well parted between my master Shylock and you, sir: you have the grace of God, sir, and he hath enough.
139 Bass. Thou speak’st it well. Go, father, with thy son.
140 Take leave of thy old master and inquire
My lodging out. Give him a livery
More guarded than his fellows’: see it done.
143 Laun. Father, in. I cannot get a service, no; I have 144 ne’er a tongue in my head. Well, if any man in Italy have 145 a fairer table which doth offer to swear upon a book, I 146 shall have good fortune. Go to, here’s a simple line of life: here’s a small trifle of wives: alas, fifteen wives is 148 nothing! a’leven widows and nine maids is a simple coming-in 149 for one man: and then to ’scape drowning thrice, 150 and to be in peril of my life with the edge of a feather-bed; here are simple scapes. Well, if Fortune be a woman, she’s a good wench for this gear. Father, come; I’ll take my 153 leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye. [Exeunt Launcelot and Old Gobbo.
Bass. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this:
155 These things being bought and orderly bestow’d,
Return in haste, for I do feast to-night
157 My best-esteem’d acquaintance: hie thee, go.
Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein.
159 Gra. Where is your master?
Yonder, sir, he walks. [Exit.
160 Gra. Signior Bassanio,—
Bass. Gratiano!
162 Gra. I have a suit to you.
You have obtain’d it.
163 Gra. You must not deny me: I must go with you to Belmont.
165 Bass. Why, then you must. But hear thee, Gratiano:
Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice;
Parts that become thee happily enough,
168 And in such eyes as ours appear not faults;
But where thou art not known, why, there they show
170 Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pain
To allay with some cold drops of modesty
Thy skipping spirit; lest, through thy wild behaviour,
173 I be misconstrued in the place I go to,
174 And lose my hopes.
Signior Bassanio, hear me:
175 If I do not put on a sober habit,
Talk with respect, and swear but now and then,
177 Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely;
Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes
Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say ‘amen;’
180 Use all the observance of civility,
Like one well studied in a sad ostent
To please his grandam, never trust me more.
Bass. Well, we shall see your bearing.
Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night: you shall not gauge me
By what we do to-night.
185 No, that were pity:
I would entreat you rather to put on
Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends
188 That purpose merriment. But fare you well:
I have some business.
190 Gra. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest:
But we will visit you at supper-time. [Exeunt.
001 Jes. I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so:
Our house is hell; and thou, a merry devil,
Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness.
But fare thee well; there is a ducat for thee:
005 And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see
Lorenzo, who is thy new master’s guest:
Give him this letter; do it secretly;
And so farewell: I would not have my father
009 See me in talk with thee.
010 Laun. Adieu! tears exhibit my tongue. Most beautiful 011 pagan, most sweet Jew! if a Christian did not play the knave, and get thee, I am much deceived. But, adieu: 013 these foolish drops do something drown my manly spirit: adieu.
015 Jes. Farewell, good Launcelot. [Exit Launcelot.
Alack, what heinous sin is it in me
017 To be ashamed to be my father’s child!
But though I am a daughter to his blood,
I am not to his manners. O Lorenzo,
020 If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife,
Become a Christian, and thy loving wife. [Exit.
Lor. Nay, we will slink away in supper-time,
Disguise us at my lodging, and return
All in an hour.
Gra. We have not made good preparation.
005 Salar. We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers.
Salan. ’Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly order’d,
And better in my mind not undertook.
008 Lor. ’Tis now but four o’clock: we have two hours
009 To furnish us.
Friend Launcelot, what’s the news?
010 Laun. An it shall please you to break up this, it shall seem to signify.
Lor. I know the hand: in faith, ’tis a fair hand;
013 And whiter than the paper it writ on
014 Is the fair hand that writ.
Love-news, in faith.
015 Laun. By your leave, sir.
Lor. Whither goest thou?
Laun. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to sup to-night with my new master the Christian.
Lor. Hold here, take this: tell gentle Jessica
020 I will not fail her; speak it privately.
021 Go, gentlemen, [Exit Launcelot.
022 Will you prepare you for this masque to-night?
I am provided of a torch-bearer.
Salar. Ay, marry, I’ll be gone about it straight.
Salan. And so will I.
025 Meet me and Gratiano
At Gratiano’s lodging some hour hence.
Salar. ’Tis good we do so. [Exeunt Salar. and Salan.
Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessica?
Lor. I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed
030 How I shall take her from her father’s house;
What gold and jewels she is furnish’d with;
What page’s suit she hath in readiness.
If e’er the Jew her father come to heaven,
It will be for his gentle daughter’s sake:
035 And never dare misfortune cross her foot,
Unless she do it under this excuse,
That she is issue to a faithless Jew.
Come, go with me; peruse this as thou goest:
Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. [Exeunt.
001 Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy judge,
The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio:—
What, Jessica!—thou shalt not gormandise,
As thou hast done with me:—What, Jessica!—
005 And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out;—
Why, Jessica, I say!
Why, Jessica!
007 Shy. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call.
008 Laun. Your worship was wont to tell me that I could
do nothing without bidding.
010 Jes. Call you? what is your will?
Shy. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica:
There are my keys. But wherefore should I go?
I am not bid for love; they flatter me:
But yet I’ll go in hate, to feed upon
015 The prodigal Christian. Jessica, my girl,
Look to my house. I am right loath to go:
There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest,
For I did dream of money-bags to-night.
Laun. I beseech you, sir, go: my young master doth 020 expect your reproach.
Shy. So do I his.
Laun. And they have conspired together, I will not say you shall see a masque; but if you do, then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a-bleeding on Black-Monday 025 last at six o’clock i’ the morning, falling out that year on Ash-Wednesday was four year, in the afternoon.
027 Shy. What, are there masques? Hear you me, Jessica:
Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum,
029 And the vile squealing of the wry-neck’d fife,
030 Clamber not you up to the casements then,
Nor thrust your head into the public street
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish’d faces;
But stop my house’s ears, I mean my casements:
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter
035 My sober house. By Jacob’s staff, I swear
I have no mind of feasting forth to-night:
But I will go. Go you before me, sirrah;
Say I will come.
039 Laun. I will go before, sir. Mistress, look out at 040 window, for all this;
There will come a Christian by,
042 Will be worth a Jewess’ eye. [Exit.
Shy. What says that fool of Hagar’s offspring, ha?
Jes. His words were, ‘Farewell, mistress;’ nothing else.
045 Shy. The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder;
046 Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day
More than the wild-cat: drones hive not with me;
Therefore I part with him; and part with him
To one that I would have him help to waste
050 His borrow’d purse. Well, Jessica, go in:
Perhaps I will return immediately:
052 Do as I bid you; shut doors after you:
053 Fast bind, fast find,
A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. [Exit.
055 Jes. Farewell; and if my fortune be not crost,
I have a father, you a daughter, lost. [Exit.
Gra. This is the pent-house under which Lorenzo
002 Desired us to make stand.
His hour is almost past.
Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour,
For lovers ever run before the clock.
005 Salar. O, ten times faster Venus’ pigeons fly
006 To seal love’s bonds new-made, than they are wont
To keep obliged faith unforfeited!
Gra. That ever holds: who riseth from a feast
With that keen appetite that he sits down?
010 Where is the horse that doth untread again
His tedious measures with the unbated fire
That he did pace them first? All things that are,
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy’d.
014 How like a younker or a prodigal
015 The scarfed bark puts from her native bay,
Hugg’d and embraced by the strumpet wind!
017 How like the prodigal doth she return,
018 With over-weather’d ribs and ragged sails,
Lean, rent, and beggar’d by the strumpet wind!
020 Salar. Here comes Lorenzo: more of this hereafter.
Lor. Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode;
Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait:
When you shall please to play the thieves for wives,
024 I’ll watch as long for you then. Approach;
025 Here dwells my father Jew. Ho! who’s within?
Jes. Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty,
Albeit I’ll swear that I do know your tongue.
Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love.
Jes. Lorenzo, certain; and my love, indeed,
030 For who love I so much? And now who knows
But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours?
Lor. Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art.
033 Jes. Here, catch this casket; it is worth the pains.
I am glad ’tis night, you do not look on me,
034 For I am much ashamed of my exchange:
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see
The pretty follies that themselves commit;
For if they could, Cupid himself would blush
To see me thus transformed to a boy.
040 Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer.
041 Jes. What, must I hold a candle to my shames?
They in themselves, good sooth, are too too light.
Why, ’tis an office of discovery, love;
And I should be obscured.
044 So are you, sweet,
045 Even in the lovely garnish of a boy.
But come at once;
For the close night doth play the runaway,
And we are stay’d for at Bassanio’s feast.
Jes. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself
050 With some more ducats, and be with you straight. [Exit above.
051 Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew.
052 Lor. Beshrew me but I love her heartily;
For she is wise, if I can judge of her;
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true;
055 And true she is, as she hath proved herself;
And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true,
Shall she be placed in my constant soul.
058 What, art thou come? On, gentlemen; away!
059 Our masquing mates by this time for us stay. [Exit with Jessica and Salarino.
060 Ant. Who’s there?
Gra. Signior Antonio!
061 Ant. Fie, fie, Gratiano! where are all the rest?
’Tis nine o’clock: our friends all stay for you.
No masque to-night: the wind is come about;
065 Bassanio presently will go aboard:
066 I have sent twenty out to seek for you.
067 Gra. I am glad on’t: I desire no more delight
Than to be under sail and gone to-night. [Exeunt.
Por. Go draw aside the curtains, and discover
The several caskets to this noble prince.
Now make your choice.
Mor. The first, of gold, who this inscription bears,
005 ‘Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire;’
The second, silver, which this promise carries,
‘Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves;’
This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt,
‘Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.’
010 How shall I know if I do choose the right?
Por. The one of them contains my picture, prince:
012 If you choose that, then I am yours withal.
Mor. Some god direct my judgment! Let me see;
I will survey the inscriptions back again.
015 What says this leaden casket?
‘Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.’
Must give,—for what? for lead? hazard for lead?
018 This casket threatens. Men that hazard all
Do it in hope of fair advantages:
020 A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross;
021 I’ll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead.
What says the silver with her virgin hue?
‘Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.’
024 As much as he deserves! Pause there, Morocco,
025 And weigh thy value with an even hand:
026 If thou be’st rated by thy estimation,
Thou dost deserve enough; and yet enough
May not extend so far as to the lady:
029 And yet to be afeard of my deserving
030 Were but a weak disabling of myself.
As much as I deserve! Why, that’s the lady:
I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes,
In graces and in qualities of breeding;
034 But more than these, in love I do deserve.
035 What if I stray’d no further, but chose here?
Let’s see once more this saying graved in gold;
‘Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.’
Why, that’s the lady; all the world desires her;
From the four corners of the earth they come,
040 To kiss this shrine, this mortal-breathing saint:
041 The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds
Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now
For princes to come view fair Portia:
The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head
045 Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar
To stop the foreign spirits; but they come,
As o’er a brook, to see fair Portia.
One of these three contains her heavenly picture.
Is’t like that lead contains her? ’Twere damnation
050 To think so base a thought: it were too gross
051 To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave.
Or shall I think in silver she’s immured,
Being ten times undervalued to tried gold?
O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem
055 Was set in worse than gold. They have in England
A coin that bears the figure of an angel
057 Stamped in gold, but that’s insculp’d upon;
But here an angel in a golden bed
Lies all within. Deliver me the key:
060 Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may!
Por. There, take it, prince; and if my form lie there,
062 Then I am yours. [He unlocks the golden casket.
O hell! what have we here?
A carrion Death, within whose empty eye
064 There is a written scroll! I’ll read the writing. [Reads.
065 All that glisters is not gold;
Often have you heard that told:
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold:
069 Gilded tombs do worms infold.
070 Had you been as wise as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgment old,
072 Your answer had not been inscroll’d:
Fare you well; your suit is cold.
Cold, indeed; and labour lost:
075 Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost!
Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart
077 To take a tedious leave: thus losers part. [Exit with his train. Flourish of cornets.
Por. A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains, go.
Let all of his complexion choose me so. [Exeunt.
Salar. Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail:
With him is Gratiano gone along;
And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not.
Salan. The villain Jew with outcries raised the Duke,
005 Who went with him to search Bassanio’s ship.
006 Salar. He came too late, the ship was under sail:
But there the Duke was given to understand
008 That in a gondola were seen together
009 Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica:
010 Besides, Antonio certified the Duke
They were not with Bassanio in his ship.
Salan. I never heard a passion so confused,
So strange, outrageous, and so variable,
As the dog Jew did utter in the streets:
015 ‘My daughter! O my ducats! O my daughter!
Fled with a Christian! O my Christian ducats!
Justice! the law! my ducats, and my daughter!
A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats,
Of double ducats, stolen from me by my daughter!
020 And jewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones,
Stolen by my daughter! Justice! find the girl!
She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats!’
Salar. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him,
Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats.
025 Salan. Let good Antonio look he keep his day,
Or he shall pay for this.
Marry, well remember’d.
I reason’d with a Frenchman yesterday,
Who told me, in the narrow seas that part
The French and English, there miscarried
030 A vessel of our country richly fraught:
I thought upon Antonio when he told me;
And wish’d in silence that it were not his.
Salan. You were best to tell Antonio what you hear;
034 Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him.
035 Salar. A kinder gentleman treads not the earth.
I saw Bassanio and Antonio part:
Bassanio told him he would make some speed
Of his return: he answer’d, ‘Do not so;
039 Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio,
040 But stay the very riping of the time;
And for the Jew’s bond which he hath of me,
042 Let it not enter in your mind of love:
043 Be merry; and employ your chiefest thoughts
To courtship, and such fair ostents of love
045 As shall conveniently become you there:’
And even there, his eye being big with tears,
Turning his face, he put his hand behind him,
And with affection wondrous sensible
He wrung Bassanio’s hand; and so they parted.
050 Salan. I think he only loves the world for him.
I pray thee, let us go and find him out,
052 And quicken his embraced heaviness
With some delight or other.
Do we so. [Exeunt.
Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee; draw the curtain straight:
The Prince of Arragon hath ta’en his oath,
003 And comes to his election presently.
Por. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince:
005 If you choose that wherein I am contain’d,
Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemnized:
007 But if you fail, without more speech, my lord,
You must be gone from hence immediately.
Ar. I am enjoin’d by oath to observe three things:
010 First, never to unfold to any one
Which casket ’twas I chose; next, if I fail
Of the right casket, never in my life
013 To woo a maid in way of marriage:
Lastly,
015 If I do fail in fortune of my choice,
Immediately to leave you and be gone.
Por. To these injunctions every one doth swear
That comes to hazard for my worthless self.
019 Ar. And so have I address’d me. Fortune now
020 To my heart’s hope! Gold; silver; and base lead.
‘Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.’
022 You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard.
What says the golden chest? ha! let me see:
‘Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.’
025 What many men desire! that ‘many’ may be meant
026 By the fool multitude, that choose by show,
Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach;
028 Which pries not to the interior, but, like the martlet,
Builds in the weather on the outward wall,
030 Even in the force and road of casualty.
I will not choose what many men desire,
Because I will not jump with common spirits,
033 And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.
Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house;
035 Tell me once more what title thou dost bear:
‘Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves:’
And well said too; for who shall go about
To cozen fortune, and be honourable
039 Without the stamp of merit? Let none presume
040 To wear an undeserved dignity.
O, that estates, degrees and offices
042 Were not derived corruptly, and that clear honour
Were purchased by the merit of the wearer!
How many then should cover that stand bare!
045 How many be commanded that command!
046 How much low peasantry would then be glean’d
From the true seed of honour! and how much honour
048 Pick’d from the chaff and ruin of the times,
049 To be new-varnish’d! Well, but to my choice:
050 ‘Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.’
051 I will assume desert. Give me a key for this,
052 And instantly unlock my fortunes here. [He opens the silver casket.
Por. Too long a pause for that which you find there.
Ar. What’s here? the portrait of a blinking idiot,
055 Presenting me a schedule! I will read it.
How much unlike art thou to Portia!
057 How much unlike my hopes and my deservings!
058 ‘Who chooseth me shall have as much as he deserves.’
Did I deserve no more than a fool’s head?
060 Is that my prize? are my deserts no better?
Por. To offend, and judge, are distinct offices,
And of opposed natures.
062 What is here? [Reads]
The fire seven times tried this;
064 Seven times tried that judgement is,
065 That did never choose amiss.
Some there be that shadows kiss;
Such have but a shadow’s bliss:
068 There be fools alive, I wis,
Silver’d o’er; and so was this.
070 Take what wife you will to bed,
I will ever be your head:
072 So be gone: you are sped.
073 Still more fool I shall appear
By the time I linger here:
075 With one fool’s head I came to woo,
But I go away with two.
Sweet, adieu. I’ll keep my oath,
078 Patiently to bear my wroth. [Exeunt Arragon and train.
079 Por. Thus hath the candle singed the moth.
080 O, these deliberate fools! when they do choose,
081 They have the wisdom by their wit to lose.
Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy,
083 Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.
084 Por. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa.
Serv. Where is my lady?
085 Here: what would my lord?
Serv. Madam, there is alighted at your gate
A young Venetian, one that comes before
To signify the approaching of his lord;
From whom he bringeth sensible regreets,
090 To wit, besides commends and courteous breath,
Gifts of rich value. Yet I have not seen
So likely an ambassador of love:
A day in April never came so sweet,
To show how costly summer was at hand,
095 As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord.
096 Por. No more, I pray thee: I am half afeard
097 Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee,
Thou spend’st such high-day wit in praising him.
Come, come, Nerissa; for I long to see
100 Quick Cupid’s post that comes so mannerly.
101 Ner. Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be! [Exeunt.
Salan. Now, what news on the Rialto?
Salar. Why, yet it lives there unchecked, that Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wrecked on the narrow seas; the Goodwins, I think they call the place; a very dangerous flat 005 and fatal, where the carcases of many a tall ship lie buried, 006 as they say, if my gossip Report be an honest woman of her word.
008 Salan. I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever knapped ginger, or made her neighbours believe she wept 010 for the death of a third husband. But it is true, without any slips of prolixity, or crossing the plain highway of talk, 012 that the good Antonio, the honest Antonio,——O that I had a title good enough to keep his name company!—
Salar. Come, the full stop.
015 Salan. Ha! what sayest thou? Why, the end is, he hath lost a ship.
Salar. I would it might prove the end of his losses.
Salan. Let me say ‘amen’ betimes, lest the devil cross 019 my prayer, for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew.
020 How now, Shylock! what news among the merchants?
021 Shy. You knew, none so well, none so well as you, of my daughter’s flight.
Salar. That’s certain: I, for my part, knew the tailor that made the wings she flew withal.
025 Salan. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird 026 was fledged; and then it is the complexion of them all to leave the dam.
Shy. She is damned for it.
Salar. That’s certain, if the devil may be her judge.
030 Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel!
031 Salar. Out upon it, old carrion! rebels it at these years?
032 Shy. I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood.
Salar. There is more difference between thy flesh and hers than between jet and ivory; more between your bloods 035 than there is between red wine and rhenish. But tell us, do 036 you hear whether Antonio have had any loss at sea or no?
037 Shy. There I have another bad match: a bankrupt, a 038 prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto; a 039 beggar, that was used to come so smug upon the mart; let 040 him look to his bond: he was wont to call me usurer; let him look to his bond: he was wont to lend money for a Christian courtesy; let him look to his bond.
Salar. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his flesh: what’s that good for?
045 Shy. To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hindered 047 me half a million; laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my 049 friends, heated mine enemies; and what’s his reason? I am 050 a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same 053 diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the 054 same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick 055 us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? if we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is 059 his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what 060 should his sufferance be by Christian example? Why, revenge. The villany you teach me, I will execute; and it 062 shall go hard but I will better the instruction.
Serv. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house, and desires to speak with you both.
065 Salar. We have been up and down to seek him.
Salan. Here comes another of the tribe: a third cannot 067 be matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew. [Exeunt Salan. Salar. and Servant.
068 Shy. How now, Tubal! what news from Genoa? hast thou found my daughter?
070 Tub. I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot find her.
Shy. Why, there, there, there, there! a diamond gone, cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort! The curse never fell upon our nation till now; I never felt it till now: two 075 thousand ducats in that; and other precious, precious jewels. I would my daughter were dead at my foot, and the 077 jewels in her ear! would she were hearsed at my foot, and 078 the ducats in her coffin! No news of them? Why, so:— 079 and I know not what’s spent in the search: why, thou loss 080 upon loss! the thief gone with so much, and so much to find the thief; and no satisfaction, no revenge: nor no ill 082 luck stirring but what lights on my shoulders; no sighs but of my breathing; no tears but of my shedding.
Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too: Antonio, as I 085 heard in Genoa,—
086 Shy. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck?
Tub. Hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis.
088 Shy. I thank God, I thank God! Is’t true, is’t true?
Tub. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the 090 wreck.
091 Shy. I thank thee, good Tubal: good news, good 092 news! ha, ha! where? in Genoa?
093 Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, in one night fourscore ducats.
095 Shy. Thou stickest a dagger in me: I shall never see my gold again: fourscore ducats at a sitting! fourscore ducats.
Tub. There came divers of Antonio’s creditors in my 099 company to Venice, that swear he cannot choose but break.
100 Shy. I am very glad of it: I’ll plague him; I’ll torture 101 him: I am glad of it.
Tub. One of them showed me a ring that he had of your daughter for a monkey.
Shy. Out upon her! Thou torturest me, Tubal: it 105 was my turquoise; I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor: I would not have given it for a wilderness of monkeys.
Tub. But Antonio is certainly undone.
108 Shy. Nay, that’s true, that’s very true. Go, Tubal, fee me an officer; bespeak him a fortnight before. I will 110 have the heart of him, if he forfeit; for, were he out of 111 Venice, I can make what merchandise I will. Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue; go, good Tubal; at our synagogue, Tubal. [Exeunt.
001 Por. I pray you, tarry: pause a day or two
Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong,
003 I lose your company: therefore forbear awhile.
There’s something tells me, but it is not love,
005 I would not lose you; and you know yourself,
Hate counsels not in such a quality.
But lest you should not understand me well,—
And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought,—
I would detain you here some month or two
010 Before you venture for me. I could teach you
011 How to choose right, but I am then forsworn;
So will I never be: so may you miss me;
But if you do, you’ll make me wish a sin,
That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes,
015 They have o’er-look’d me, and divided me;
016 One half of me is yours, the other half yours.
017 Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,
018 And so all yours! O, these naughty times
019 Put bars between the owners and their rights!
020 And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so,
021 Let fortune go to hell for it, not I.
022 I speak too long; but ’tis to peize the time,
023 To eke it and to draw it out in length,
To stay you from election.
Let me choose;
025 For as I am, I live upon the rack.
Por. Upon the rack, Bassanio! then confess
What treason there is mingled with your love.
Bass. None but that ugly treason of mistrust,
Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love:
030 There may as well be amity and life
’Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love.
Por. Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack,
033 Where men enforced do speak any thing.
Bass. Promise me life, and I’ll confess the truth.
Por. Well then, confess and live.
035 ‘Confess,’ and ‘love,’
Had been the very sum of my confession:
O happy torment, when my torturer
Doth teach me answers for deliverance!
But let me to my fortune and the caskets.
040 Por. Away, then! I am lock’d in one of them:
If you do love me, you will find me out.
Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof.
Let music sound while he doth make his choice;
044 Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end,
045 Fading in music: that the comparison
046 May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream,
And watery death-bed for him. He may win;
And what is music then? Then music is
Even as the flourish when true subjects bow
050 To a new-crowned monarch: such it is
As are those dulcet sounds in break of day
That creep into the dreaming bridegroom’s ear,
And summon him to marriage. Now he goes,
054 With no less presence, but with much more love,
055 Than young Alcides, when he did redeem
The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy
To the sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice;
The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives,
With bleared visages, come forth to view
060 The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules!
061 Live thou, I live: with much much more dismay
062 I view the fight than thou that makest the fray.
063 Tell me where is fancy bred,
Or in the heart or in the head?
065 How begot, how nourished?
066 Reply, reply.
067 It is engender’d in the eye,
With gazing fed; and fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies.
070 Let us all ring fancy’s knell;
071 I’ll begin it,—Ding, dong, bell.
All. Ding, dong, bell.
Bass. So may the outward shows be least themselves:
The world is still deceived with ornament.
075 In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,
But, being seasoned with a gracious voice,
Obscures the show of evil? In religion,
What damned error, but some sober brow
Will bless it, and approve it with a text,
080 Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?
081 There is no vice so simple, but assumes
082 Some mark of virtue on his outward parts:
How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins
085 The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars;
Who, inward search’d, have livers white as milk;
And these assume but valour’s excrement
To render them redoubted! Look on beauty,
And you shall see ’tis purchased by the weight;
090 Which therein works a miracle in nature,
Making them lightest that wear most of it:
So are those crisped snaky golden locks
093 Which make such wanton gambols with the wind,
Upon supposed fairness, often known
095 To be the dowry of a second head,
The skull that bred them in the sepulchre.
097 Thus ornament is but the guiled shore
To a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf
099 Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word,
100 The seeming truth which cunning times put on
101 To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold,
102 Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee;
103 Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge
’Tween man and man: but thou, thou meagre lead,
105 Which rather threatenest than dost promise aught,
106 Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence;
And here choose I: joy be the consequence!
Por. [Aside] 108 How all the other passions fleet to air,
As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraced despair,
110 And shuddering fear, and green-eyed jealousy!
111 O love, be moderate; allay thy ecstasy;
112 In measure rein thy joy; scant this excess!
I feel too much thy blessing: make it less,
114 For fear I surfeit!
What find I here? [Opening the leaden casket.
115 Fair Portia’s counterfeit! What demi-god
Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes?
117 Or whether, riding on the balls of mine,
Seem they in motion? Here are sever’d lips,
119 Parted with sugar breath: so sweet a bar
120 Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs
The painter plays the spider, and hath woven
122 A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men,
Faster than gnats in cobwebs: but her eyes,—
How could he see to do them? having made one,
125 Methinks it should have power to steal both his
126 And leave itself unfurnish’d. Yet look, how far
The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow
In underprizing it, so far this shadow
Doth limp behind the substance. Here’s the scroll,
130
The continent and summary of my fortune.
[Reads]
You that choose not by the view,
Chance as fair, and choose as true!
Since this fortune falls to you,
Be content and seek no new.
135 If you be well pleased with this,
And hold your fortune for your bliss,
Turn you where your lady is,
And claim her with a loving kiss.
A gentle scroll. Fair lady, by your leave;
140 I come by note, to give and to receive.
Like one of two contending in a prize,
That thinks he hath done well in people’s eyes,
Hearing applause and universal shout,
144 Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt
145 Whether those peals of praise be his or no;
So, thrice-fair lady, stand I, even so;
As doubtful whether what I see be true,
Until confirm’d, sign’d, ratified by you.
149 Por. You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand,
150 Such as I am: though for myself alone
I would not be ambitious in my wish,
To wish myself much better; yet, for you
I would be trebled twenty times myself;
154 A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times
155 More rich;
156 That only to stand high in your account,
I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends,
Exceed account; but the full sum of me
159 Is sum of something, which, to term in gross,
160 Is an unlesson’d girl, unschool’d, unpractised;
Happy in this, she is not yet so old
162 But she may learn; happier than this,
She is not bred so dull but she can learn;
164 Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit
165 Commits itself to yours to be directed,
As from her lord, her governor, her king.
Myself and what is mine to you and yours
168 Is now converted: but now I was the lord
169 Of this fair mansion, master of my servants,
170 Queen o’er myself; and even now, but now,
This house, these servants, and this same myself,
172 Are yours, my lord: I give them with this ring;
Which when you part from, lose, or give away,
Let it presage the ruin of your love,
175 And be my vantage to exclaim on you.
Bass. Madam, you have bereft me of all words,
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins;
And there is such confusion in my powers,
As, after some oration fairly spoke
180 By a beloved prince, there doth appear
Among the buzzing pleased multitude;
Where every something, being blent together,
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy,
Express’d and not express’d. But when this ring
185 Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence:
186 O, then be bold to say Bassanio’s dead!
Ner. My lord and lady, it is now our time,
That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper,
To cry, good joy: good joy, my lord and lady!
190 Gra. My Lord Bassanio and my gentle lady,
I wish you all the joy that you can wish;
For I am sure you can wish none from me:
And when your honours mean to solemnize
The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you,
195 Even at that time I may be married too.
Bass. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife.
197 Gra. I thank your lordship, you have got me one.
My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours:
You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid;
200 You loved, I loved for intermission.
No more pertains to me, my lord, than you.
202 Your fortune stood upon the casket there,
And so did mine too, as the matter falls;
204 For wooing here until I sweat again,
205 And swearing till my very roof was dry
With oaths of love, at last, if promise last,
I got a promise of this fair one here
To have her love, provided that your fortune
Achieved her mistress.
Is this true, Nerissa?
210 Ner. Madam, it is, so you stand pleased withal.
Bass. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith?
Gra. Yes, faith, my lord.
Bass. Our feast shall be much honour’d in your marriage.
Gra. We’ll play with them the first boy for a thousand 215 ducats.
Ner. What, and stake down?
Gra. No; we shall ne’er win at that sport, and stake down.
220 But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel?
221 What, and my old Venetian friend Salerio?
Bass. Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither;
If that the youth of my new interest here
Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave,
225 I bid my very friends and countrymen,
Sweet Portia, welcome.
So do I, my lord:
They are entirely welcome.
Lor. I thank your honour. For my part, my lord,
My purpose was not to have seen you here;
230 But meeting with Salerio by the way,
He did entreat me, past all saying nay,
To come with him along.
232 I did, my lord;
And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio
234 Commends him to you. [Gives Bassanio a letter.
Ere I ope his letter,
235 I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth.
Saler. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind;
Nor well, unless in mind: his letter there
238 Will show you his estate.
239 Gra. Nerissa, cheer yon stranger; bid her welcome.
240 Your hand, Salerio: what’s the news from Venice?
How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio?
I know he will be glad of our success;
We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece.
244 Saler. I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost.
245 Por. There are some shrewd contents in yon same paper,
246 That steals the colour from Bassanio’s cheek:
Some dear friend dead; else nothing in the world
Could turn so much the constitution
Of any constant man. What, worse and worse!
250 With leave, Bassanio; I am half yourself,
251 And I must freely have the half of any thing
That this same paper brings you.
O sweet Portia,
Here are a few of the unpleasant’st words
That ever blotted paper! Gentle lady,
255 When I did first impart my love to you,
I freely told you, all the wealth I had
Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman;
And then I told you true: and yet, dear lady,
Rating myself at nothing, you shall see
260 How much I was a braggart. When I told you
My state was nothing, I should then have told you
That I was worse than nothing; for, indeed,
I have engaged myself to a dear friend,
Engaged my friend to his mere enemy,
265 To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady;
266 The paper as the body of my friend,
And every word in it a gaping wound,
Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio?
269 Have all his ventures fail’d? What, not one hit?
270 From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England,
From Lisbon, Barbary, and India?
272 And not one vessel scape the dreadful touch
Of merchant-marring rocks?
Not one, my lord.
Besides, it should appear, that if he had
275 The present money to discharge the Jew,
He would not take it. Never did I know
A creature, that did bear the shape of man,
So keen and greedy to confound a man:
He plies the Duke at morning and at night;
280 And doth impeach the freedom of the state,
If they deny him justice: twenty merchants,
The Duke himself, and the magnificoes
Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him;
But none can drive him from the envious plea
285 Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond.
Jes. When I was with him I have heard him swear
To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen,
That he would rather have Antonio’s flesh
Than twenty times the value of the sum
290 That he did owe him: and I know, my lord,
If law, authority and power deny not,
It will go hard with poor Antonio.
Por. Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble?
Bass. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man,
295 The best-condition’d and unwearied spirit
In doing courtesies; and one in whom
The ancient Roman honour more appears
Than any that draws breath in Italy.
Por. What sum owes he the Jew?
Bass. For me three thousand ducats.
300 What, no more?
Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond;
Double six thousand, and then treble that,
303 Before a friend of this description
304 Shall lose a hair through Bassanio’s fault.
305 First go with me to church and call me wife,
And then away to Venice to your friend;
For never shall you lie by Portia’s side
With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold
To pay the petty debt twenty times over:
310 When it is paid, bring your true friend along.
My maid Nerissa and myself meantime
Will live as maids and widows. Come, away!
For you shall hence upon your wedding-day:
314 Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer:
315 Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear.
But let me hear the letter of your friend.
Bass. [reads] 317 Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all miscarried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is very low, my bond to the Jew is forfeit; and since in paying it, it is impossible I should live, all 320 debts are cleared between you and I, if I might but see you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your pleasure: if your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter.
323 Por. O love, dispatch all business, and be gone!
Bass. Since I have your good leave to go away,
325 I will make haste: but, till I come again,
No bed shall e’er be guilty of my stay,
327 No rest be interposer ’twixt us twain. [Exeunt.
001 Shy. Gaoler, look to him: tell not me of mercy;
002 This is the fool that lent out money gratis:
Gaoler, look to him.
Hear me yet, good Shylock.
Shy. I’ll have my bond; speak not against my bond:
005 I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond.
006 Thou call’dst me dog before thou hadst a cause;
But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs:
The Duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder,
Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond
010 To come abroad with him at his request.
011 Ant. I pray thee, hear me speak.
Shy. I’ll have my bond; I will not hear thee speak:
I’ll have my bond; and therefore speak no more.
I’ll not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool,
015 To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield
To Christian intercessors. Follow not;
I’ll have no speaking: I will have my bond. [Exit.
Salar. It is the most impenetrable cur
That ever kept with men.
Let him alone:
020 I’ll follow him no more with bootless prayers.
He seeks my life; his reason well I know:
022 I oft deliver’d from his forfeitures
Many that have at times made moan to me;
Therefore he hates me.
024 I am sure the Duke
025 Will never grant this forfeiture to hold.
026 Ant. The Duke cannot deny the course of law:
For the commodity that strangers have
028 With us in Venice, if it be denied,
029 Will much impeach the justice of his state;
030 Since that the trade and profit of the city
Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go:
032 These griefs and losses have so bated me,
That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh
To-morrow to my bloody creditor.
035 Well, gaoler, on. Pray God, Bassanio come
To see me pay his debt, and then I care not! [Exeunt.
001 Lor. Madam, although I speak it in your presence,
You have a noble and a true conceit
003 Of god-like amity; which appears most strongly
In bearing thus the absence of your lord.
005 But if you knew to whom you show this honour.
006 How true a gentleman you send relief,
How dear a lover of my lord your husband,
I know you would be prouder of the work
Than customary bounty can enforce you.
010 Por. I never did repent for doing good,
011 Nor shall not now: for in companions
That do converse and waste the time together,
013 Whose souls do bear an equal yoke of love,
There must be needs a like proportion
015 Of lineaments, of manners and of spirit;
Which makes me think that this Antonio,
Being the bosom lover of my lord,
Must needs be like my lord. If it be so,
How little is the cost I have bestow’d
020 In purchasing the semblance of my soul
021 From out the state of hellish misery!
This comes too near the praising of myself;
023 Therefore no more of it: hear other things.
024 Lorenzo, I commit into your hands
025 The husbandry and manage of my house
Until my lord’s return: for mine own part,
027 I have toward heaven breathed a secret vow
To live in prayer and contemplation,
Only attended by Nerissa here,
030 Until her husband and my lord’s return:
There is a monastery two miles off;
032 And there will we abide. I do desire you
Not to deny this imposition;
The which my love and some necessity
Now lays upon you.
035 Madam, with all my heart;
I shall obey you in all fair commands.
Por. My people do already know my mind,
And will acknowledge you and Jessica
In place of Lord Bassanio and myself.
040 And so farewell, till we shall meet again.
Lor. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you!
Jes. I wish your ladyship all heart’s content.
043 Por. I thank you for your wish, and am well pleased
044 To wish it back on you: fare you well, Jessica. [Exeunt Jessica and Lorenzo.
045 Now, Balthasar,
046 As I have ever found thee honest-true,
So let me find thee still. Take this same letter,
And use thou all the endeavour of a man
049 In speed to Padua: see thou render this
050 Into my cousin’s hand, Doctor Bellario;
And, look, what notes and garments he doth give thee,
Bring them, I pray thee, with imagined speed
053 Unto the tranect, to the common ferry
054 Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words,
055 But get thee gone: I shall be there before thee.
Balth. Madam, I go with all convenient speed. [Exit.
Por. Come on, Nerissa; I have work in hand
That you yet know not of: we’ll see our husbands
Before they think of us.
Shall they see us?
060 Por. They shall, Nerissa; but in such a habit,
That they shall think we are accomplished
062 With that we lack. I’ll hold thee any wager,
063 When we are both accoutred like young men,
I’ll prove the prettier fellow of the two,
065 And wear my dagger with the braver grace,
And speak between the change of man and boy
With a reed voice, and turn two mincing steps
Into a manly stride, and speak of frays
Like a fine bragging youth; and tell quaint lies,
070 How honourable ladies sought my love,
Which I denying, they fell sick and died;
072 I could not do withal: then I’ll repent,
And wish, for all that, that I had not kill’d them;
And twenty of these puny lies I’ll tell,
075 That men shall swear I have discontinued school
Above a twelvemonth. I have within my mind
A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks,
Which I will practise.
Why, shall we turn to men?
Por. Fie, what a question’s that,
080 If thou wert near a lewd interpreter!
081 But come, I’ll tell thee all my whole device
When I am in my coach, which stays for us
At the park-gate; and therefore haste away,
For we must measure twenty miles to-day. [Exeunt.
Laun. Yes, truly; for, look you, the sins of the father 002 are to be laid upon the children: therefore, I promise ye, 003 I fear you. I was always plain with you, and so now I speak my agitation of the matter: therefore be of good 005 cheer; for, truly, I think you are damned. There is but one hope in it that can do you any good; and that is but a kind of bastard hope neither.
Jes. And what hope is that, I pray thee?
Laun. Marry, you may partly hope that your father 010 got you not, that you are not the Jew’s daughter.
Jes. That were a kind of bastard hope, indeed: so the sins of my mother should be visited upon me.
Laun. Truly then I fear you are damned both by father 014 and mother: thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I fall 015 into Charybdis, your mother: well, you are gone both ways.
Jes. I shall be saved by my husband; he hath made me a Christian.
Laun. Truly, the more to blame he: we were Christians 019 enow before; e’en as many as could well live, one by 020 another. This making of Christians will raise the price of hogs: if we grow all to be pork-eaters, we shall not shortly have a rasher on the coals for money.
Jes. I’ll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say: here 024 he comes.
025 Lor. I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot, if you thus get my wife into corners.
Jes. Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo: Launcelot and I are out. He tells me flatly, there is no mercy for me in heaven, because I am a Jew’s daughter: and he says, 030 you are no good member of the commonwealth; for, in converting Jews to Christians, you raise the price of pork.
Lor. I shall answer that better to the commonwealth than you can the getting up of the negro’s belly: the Moor 034 is with child by you, Launcelot.
035 Laun. It is much that the Moor should be more than 036 reason: but if she be less than an honest woman, she is indeed more than I took her for.
Lor. How every fool can play upon the word! I think the best grace of wit will shortly turn into silence; and discourse 040 grow commendable in none only but parrots. Go in, sirrah; bid them prepare for dinner.
Laun. That is done, sir; they have all stomachs.
043 Lor. Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you! then bid them prepare dinner.
045 Laun. That is done too, sir; only ‘cover’ is the word.
Lor. Will you cover, then, sir?
Laun. Not so, sir, neither; I know my duty.
048 Lor. Yet more quarrelling with occasion! Wilt thou show the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant? I pray 050 thee, understand a plain man in his plain meaning: go to thy fellows; bid them cover the table, serve in the meat, and we will come in to dinner.
Laun. For the table, sir, it shall be served in; for the meat, sir, it shall be covered; for your coming in to dinner, 055 sir, why, let it be as humours and conceits shall govern. [Exit.
056 Lor. O dear discretion, how his words are suited!
The fool hath planted in his memory
An army of good words; and I do know
A many fools, that stand in better place,
060 Garnish’d like him, that for a tricksy word
061 Defy the matter. How cheer’st thou, Jessica?
And now, good sweet, say thy opinion,
063 How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio’s wife?
Jes. Past all expressing. It is very meet
065 The Lord Bassanio live an upright life;
For, having such a blessing in his lady,
He finds the joys of heaven here on earth;
068 And if on earth he do not mean it, then
In reason he should never come to heaven.
070 Why, if two gods should play some heavenly match
And on the wager lay two earthly women,
And Portia one, there must be something else
Pawn’d with the other; for the poor rude world
Hath not her fellow.
074 Even such a husband
075 Hast thou of me as she is for a wife.
Jes. Nay, but ask my opinion too of that.
Lor. I will anon: first, let us go to dinner.
Jes. Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach.
079 Lor. No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk;
080 Then, howsoe’er thou speak’st, ’mong other things
081 I shall digest it.
Well, I’ll set you forth. [Exeunt.
Duke. What, is Antonio here?
Ant. Ready, so please your Grace.
003 Duke. I am sorry for thee: thou art come to answer
A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch
005 Uncapable of pity, void and empty
006 From any dram of mercy.
I have heard
007 Your Grace hath ta’en great pains to qualify
His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate,
And that no lawful means can carry me
010 Out of his envy’s reach, I do oppose
My patience to his fury; and am arm’d
To suffer, with a quietness of spirit,
The very tyranny and rage of his.
Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the court.
015 Saler. He is ready at the door: he comes, my lord.
Duke. Make room, and let him stand before our face
Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too,
That thou but lead’st this fashion of thy malice
To the last hour of act; and then ’tis thought
020 Thou’lt show thy mercy and remorse more strange
Than is thy strange apparent cruelty;
022 And where thou now exact’st the penalty,
Which is a pound of this poor merchant’s flesh,
024 Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture,
025 But, touch’d with human gentleness and love,
Forgive a moiety of the principal;
Glancing an eye of pity on his losses,
That have of late so huddled on his back,
029 Enow to press a royal merchant down,
030 And pluck commiseration of his state
031 From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint,
From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train’d
To offices of tender courtesy.
We all expect a gentle answer, Jew.
035 Shy. I have possess’d your Grace of what I purpose;
036 And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn
To have the due and forfeit of my bond:
If you deny it, let the danger light
Upon your charter and your city’s freedom.
040 You’ll ask me, why I rather choose to have
A weight of carrion-flesh than to receive
042 Three thousand ducats: I’ll not answer that:
043 But, say, it is my humour: is it answer’d?
What if my house be troubled with a rat,
045 And I be pleased to give ten thousand ducats
046 To have it baned? What, are you answer’d yet?
Some men there are love not a gaping pig;
Some, that are mad if they behold a cat;
049 And others, when the bagpipe sings i’ the nose,
050 Cannot contain their urine: for affection,
Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood
Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your answer:
As there is no firm reason to be render’d,
Why he cannot abide a gaping pig;
055 Why he, a harmless necessary cat;
056 Why he, a woollen bag-pipe; but of force
Must yield to such inevitable shame
058 As to offend, himself being offended;
So can I give no reason, nor I will not,
060 More than a lodged hate and a certain loathing
I bear Antonio, that I follow thus
A losing suit against him. Are you answer’d?
Bass. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man,
To excuse the current of thy cruelty.
065 Shy. I am not bound to please thee with my answers.
066 Bass. Do all men kill the things they do not love?
Shy. Hates any man the thing he would not kill?
Bass. Every offence is not a hate at first.
Shy. What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice?
070 Ant. I pray you, think you question with the Jew:
You may as well go stand upon the beach,
And bid the main flood bate his usual height;
073 You may as well use question with the wolf,
074 Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb;
075 You may as well forbid the mountain pines
076 To wag their high tops, and to make no noise,
077 When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven;
You may as well do any thing most hard,
079 As seek to soften that—than which what’s harder?—
080 His Jewish heart: therefore, I do beseech you,
Make no more offers, use no farther means,
But with all brief and plain conveniency
Let me have judgement and the Jew his will.
Bass. For thy three thousand ducats here is six.
085 Shy. If every ducat in six thousand ducats
Were in six parts and every part a ducat,
I would not draw them; I would have my bond.
Duke. How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none?
Shy. What judgement shall I dread, doing no wrong?
090 You have among you many a purchased slave,
091 Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules,
092 You use in abject and in slavish parts,
093 Because you bought them: shall I say to you,
Let them be free, marry them to your heirs?
095 Why sweat they under burthens? let their beds
Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates
Be season’d with such viands? You will answer
‘The slaves are ours:’ so do I answer you:
The pound of flesh, which I demand of him,
100 Is dearly bought; ’tis mine and I will have it.
If you deny me, fie upon your law!
There is no force in the decrees of Venice.
I stand for judgement: answer; shall I have it?
Duke. Upon my power I may dismiss this court,
105 Unless Bellario, a learned doctor,
Whom I have sent for to determine this,
Come here to-day.
107 My lord, here stays without
A messenger with letters from the doctor,
New come from Padua.
110 Duke. Bring us the letters; call the messenger.
Bass. Good cheer, Antonio! What, man, courage yet!
The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all,
Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood.
Ant. I am a tainted wether of the flock,
115 Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruit
116 Drops earliest to the ground; and so let me:
You cannot better be employ’d, Bassanio,
118 Than to live still, and write mine epitaph.
119 Duke. Came you from Padua, from Bellario?
120 Ner. From both, my lord. Bellario greets your Grace. [Presenting a letter.
Bass. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?
122 Shy. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there.
123 Gra. Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew,
124 Thou makest thy knife keen; but no metal can,
125 No, not the hangman’s axe, bear half the keenness
Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee?
127 Shy. No, none that thou hast wit enough to make.
128 Gra. O, be thou damn’d, inexecrable dog!
And for thy life let justice be accused.
130 Thou almost makest me waver in my faith,
To hold opinion with Pythagoras,
That souls of animals infuse themselves
Into the trunks of men: thy currish spirit
134 Govern’d a wolf, who, hang’d for human slaughter,
135 Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet,
136 And, whilst thou lay’st in thy unhallow’d dam,
Infused itself in thee; for thy desires
138 Are wolvish, bloody, starved and ravenous.
Shy. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond,
140 Thou but offend’st thy lungs to speak so loud:
Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall
142 To cureless ruin. I stand here for law.
Duke. This letter from Bellario doth commend
144 A young and learned doctor to our court.
Where is he?
145 He attendeth here hard by,
To know your answer, whether you’ll admit him.
Duke. With all my heart. Some three or four of you
Go give him courteous conduct to this place.
Meantime the court shall hear Bellario’s letter.
150 Clerk. [reads] Your Grace shall understand that at the receipt of your letter I am very sick: but in the instant that your messenger came, in loving visitation was with me a young doctor of Rome; his 153 name is Balthasar. I acquainted him with the cause in controversy between the Jew and Antonio the merchant: we turned o’er many 155 books together: he is furnished with my opinion; which, bettered with his own learning,—the greatness whereof I cannot enough commend,—comes with him, at my importunity, to fill up your Grace’s request in my stead. I beseech you, let his lack of years be no impediment to let him lack a reverend estimation; for I never knew so young a 160 body with so old a head. I leave him to your gracious acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his commendation.
Duke. You hear the learn’d Bellario, what he writes:
163 And here, I take it, is the doctor come.
164 Give me your hand. Come you from old Bellario?
Por. I did, my lord.
165 You are welcome: take your place.
Are you acquainted with the difference
That holds this present question in the court?
Por. I am informed throughly of the cause.
Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew?
170 Duke. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth.
Por. Is your name Shylock?
Shylock is my name.
Por. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow;
Yet in such rule that the Venetian law
174 Cannot impugn you as you do proceed.
175 You stand within his danger, do you not?
Ant. Ay, so he says.
Do you confess the bond?
Ant. I do.
Then must the Jew be merciful.
Shy. On what compulsion must I? tell me that.
Por. The quality of mercy is not strain’d,
180 It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
181 Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes:
’Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown;
185 His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptred sway;
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
190 It is an attribute to God himself;
191 And earthly power doth then show likest God’s
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
That, in the course of justice, none of us
195 Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much
To mitigate the justice of thy plea;
199 Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice
200 Must needs give sentence ’gainst the merchant there.
Shy. My deeds upon my head! I crave the law,
The penalty and forfeit of my bond.
Por. Is he not able to discharge the money?
Bass. Yes, here I tender it for him in the court;
205 Yea, twice the sum: if that will not suffice,
I will be bound to pay it ten times o’er,
On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart:
If this will not suffice, it must appear
209 That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you,
210 Wrest once the law to your authority:
To do a great right, do a little wrong,
And curb this cruel devil of his will.
Por. It must not be; there is no power in Venice
Can alter a decree established:
215 ’Twill be recorded for a precedent,
And many an error, by the same example,
Will rush into the state: it cannot be.
Shy. A Daniel come to judgement! yea, a Daniel!
219 O wise young judge, how I do honour thee!
220 Por. I pray you, let me look upon the bond.
Shy. Here ’tis, most reverend doctor, here it is.
222 Por. Shylock, there’s thrice thy money offer’d thee.
Shy. An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven:
Shall I lay perjury upon my soul?
225 No, not for Venice.
225 Why, this bond is forfeit;
And lawfully by this the Jew may claim
A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off
Nearest the merchant’s heart. Be merciful:
Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond.
230 Shy. When it is paid according to the tenour.
It doth appear you are a worthy judge;
You know the law, your exposition
Hath been most sound: I charge you by the law,
Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar,
235 Proceed to judgement: by my soul I swear
There is no power in the tongue of man
To alter me: I stay here on my bond.
Ant. Most heartily I do beseech the court
To give the judgement.
Why then, thus it is:
240 You must prepare your bosom for his knife.
Shy. O noble judge! O excellent young man!
Por. For the intent and purpose of the law
Hath full relation to the penalty,
Which here appeareth due upon the bond.
245 Shy. ’Tis very true: O wise and upright judge!
How much more elder art thou than thy looks!
Por. Therefore lay bare your bosom.
Ay, his breast:
So says the bond:—doth it not, noble judge?—
‘Nearest his heart:’ those are the very words.
250 Por. It is so. Are there balance here to weigh
The flesh?
Shy. I have them ready.
Por. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge,
253 To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death.
254 Shy. Is it so nominated in the bond?
255 Por. It is not so express’d: but what of that?
’Twere good you do so much for charity.
Shy. I cannot find it; ’tis not in the bond.
258 Por. You, merchant, have you any thing to say?
Ant. But little: I am arm’d and well prepared.
260 Give me your hand, Bassanio: fare you well!
Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you;
For herein Fortune shows herself more kind
263 Than is her custom: it is still her use
To let the wretched man outlive his wealth,
265 To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow
An age of poverty; from which lingering penance
267 Of such misery doth she cut me off.
Commend me to your honourable wife:
Tell her the process of Antonio’s end;
270 Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death;
And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge
272 Whether Bassanio had not once a love.
273 Repent but you that you shall lose your friend,
And he repents not that he pays your debt;
275 For if the Jew do cut but deep enough,
276 I’ll pay it presently with all my heart.
Bass. Antonio, I am married to a wife
Which is as dear to me as life itself;
But life itself, my wife, and all the world,
280 Are not with me esteem’d above thy life:
281 I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all
Here to this devil, to deliver you.
Por. Your wife would give you little thanks for that,
If she were by, to hear you make the offer.
285 Gra. I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love:
I would she were in heaven, so she could
Entreat some power to change this currish Jew.
Ner. ’Tis well you offer it behind her back;
The wish would make else an unquiet house.
290 Shy. These be the Christian husbands. I have a daughter;
Would any of the stock of Barrabas
292 Had been her husband rather than a Christian! [Aside.
We trifle time: I pray thee, pursue sentence.
Por. A pound of that same merchant’s flesh is thine:
295 The court awards it, and the law doth give it.
Shy. Most rightful judge!
Por. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast:
The law allows it, and the court awards it.
Shy. Most learned judge! A sentence! Come, prepare!
300 Por. Tarry a little; there is something else.
301 This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood;
The words expressly are ‘a pound of flesh:’
303 Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh;
But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed
305 One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods
Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate
Unto the state of Venice.
Gra. O upright judge! Mark, Jew: O learned judge!
Shy. Is that the law?
Thyself shalt see the act:
310 For, as thou urgest justice, be assured
Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest.
Gra. O learned judge! Mark, Jew: a learned judge!
313 Shy. I take this offer, then; pay the bond thrice,
And let the Christian go.
Here is the money.
315 Por. Soft!
The Jew shall have all justice; soft! no haste:
He shall have nothing but the penalty.
Gra. O Jew! an upright judge, a learned judge!
Por. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh.
320 Shed thou no blood; nor cut thou less nor more
321 But just a pound of flesh: if thou cut’st more
322 Or less than a just pound, be it but so much
323 As makes it light or heavy in the substance,
324 Or the division of the twentieth part
325 Of one poor scruple, nay, if the scale do turn
But in the estimation of a hair,
Thou diest and all thy goods are confiscate.
Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew!
329 Now, infidel, I have you on the hip.
330 Por. Why doth the Jew pause? take thy forfeiture.
Shy. Give me my principal, and let me go.
Bass. I have it ready for thee; here it is.
Por. He hath refused it in the open court:
334 He shall have merely justice and his bond.
335 Gra. A Daniel, still say I, a second Daniel!
I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.
337 Shy. Shall I not have barely my principal?
Por. Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture,
339 To be so taken at thy peril, Jew.
340 Shy. Why, then the devil give him good of it!
341 I’ll stay no longer question.
Tarry, Jew:
The law hath yet another hold on you.
It is enacted in the laws of Venice,
344 If it be proved against an alien
345 That by direct or indirect attempts
He seek the life of any citizen,
The party ’gainst the which he doth contrive
348 Shall seize one half his goods; the other half
349 Comes to the privy coffer of the state;
350 And the offender’s life lies in the mercy
Of the Duke only, ’gainst all other voice.
In which predicament, I say, thou stand’st;
For it appears, by manifest proceeding,
That indirectly, and directly too,
355 Thou hast contrived against the very life
Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr’d
357 The danger formerly by me rehearsed.
Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke.
Gra. Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself:
360 And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state,
Thou hast not left the value of a cord;
Therefore thou must be hang’d at the state’s charge.
363 Duke. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirits,
I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it:
365 For half thy wealth, it is Antonio’s;
The other half comes to the general state,
Which humbleness may drive unto a fine.
Por. Ay, for the state, not for Antonio.
Shy. Nay, take my life and all; pardon not that:
370 You take my house, when you do take the
That doth sustain my house; you take my life,
When you do take the means whereby I live.
Por. What mercy can you render him, Antonio?
374 Gra. A halter gratis; nothing else, for God’s sake.
375 Ant. So please my lord the Duke and all the court
376 To quit the fine for one half of his goods,
I am content; so he will let me have
The other half in use, to render it,
379 Upon his death, unto the gentleman
380 That lately stole his daughter:
Two things provided more, that, for this favour,
He presently become a Christian;
The other, that he do record a gift,
384 Here in the court, of all he dies possess’d,
385 Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter.
Duke. He shall do this, or else I do recant
The pardon that I late pronounced here.
Por. Art thou contented, Jew? what dost thou say?
Shy. I am content.
Clerk, draw a deed of gift.
390 Shy. I pray you, give me leave to go from hence;
I am not well: send the deed after me,
And I will sign it.
Get thee gone, but do it.
393 Gra. In christening shalt thou have two godfathers:
Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more,
395 To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. [Exit Shylock.
396 Duke. Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner.
397 Por. I humbly do desire your Grace of pardon:
I must away this night toward Padua,
And it is meet I presently set forth.
400 Duke. I am sorry that your leisure serves you not.
Antonio, gratify this gentleman,
For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. [Exeunt Duke and his train.
403 Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend
Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted
405 Of grievous penalties; in lieu whereof,
Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew,
We freely cope your courteous pains withal.
Ant. And stand indebted, over and above,
In love and service to you evermore.
410 Por. He is well paid that is well satisfied;
And I, delivering you, am satisfied
And therein do account myself well paid:
413 My mind was never yet more mercenary.
I pray you, know me when we meet again:
415 I wish you well, and so I take my leave.
Bass. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further:
Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute,
418 Not as a fee: grant me two things, I pray you,
Not to deny me, and to pardon me.
420 Por. You press me far, and therefore I will yield.
421 Give me your gloves, I’ll wear them for your sake; [To Ant.
422 And, for your love, I’ll take this ring from you [To Bass.]:
Do not draw back your hand; I’ll take no more;
And you in love shall not deny me this.
425 Bass. This ring, good sir, alas, it is a trifle!
I will not shame myself to give you this.
Por. I will have nothing else but only this;
And now methinks I have a mind to it.
429 Bass. There’s more depends on this than on the value.
430 The dearest ring in Venice will I give you,
And find it out by proclamation:
Only for this, I pray you, pardon me.
Por. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers:
You taught me first to beg; and now methinks
435 You teach me how a beggar should be answer’d.
Bass. Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife;
And when she put it on, she made me vow
That I should neither sell nor give nor lose it.
Por. That ’scuse serves many men to save their gifts.
440 An if your wife be not a mad-woman,
441 And know how well I have deserved the ring,
442 She would not hold out enemy for ever,
For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you! [Exeunt Portia and Nerissa.
Ant. My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring:
445 Let his deservings and my love withal
446 Be valued ’gainst your wife’s commandment.
Bass. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him;
Give him the ring; and bring him, if thou canst,
449 Unto Antonio’s house: away! make haste. [Exit Gratiano.
450 Come, you and I will thither presently;
And in the morning early will we both
Fly toward Belmont: come, Antonio. [Exeunt.
Por. Inquire the Jew’s house out, give him this deed
And let him sign it: we’ll away to-night
And be a day before our husbands home:
This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo.
005 Gra. Fair sir, you are well o’erta’en:
My Lord Bassanio upon more advice
Hath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat
Your company at dinner.
That cannot be:
009 His ring I do accept most thankfully:
010 And so, I pray you, tell him: furthermore,
I pray you, show my youth old Shylock’s house.
Gra. That will I do.
Sir, I would speak with you.
I’ll see if I can get my husband’s ring, [Aside to Portia.
Which I did make him swear to keep for ever.
015 Por. [Aside to Ner.] Thou mayst, I warrant. We shall have old swearing
That they did give the rings away to men;
But we’ll outface them, and outswear them too.
[Aloud] Away! make haste: thou know’st where I will tarry.
Ner. Come, good sir, will you show me to this house? [Exeunt.
001 Lor. The moon shines bright: in such a night as this,
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees
And they did make no noise, in such a night
004 Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls,
005 And sigh’d his soul toward the Grecian tents,
006 Where Cressid lay that night.
In such a night
Did Thisbe fearfully o’ertrip the dew,
And saw the lion’s shadow ere himself.
And ran dismay’d away.
In such a night
010 Stood Dido with a willow in her hand
011 Upon the wild sea-banks, and waft her love
To come again to Carthage.
In such a night
Medea gather’d the enchanted herbs
That did renew old Æson.
In such a night
015 Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew
And with an unthrift love did run from Venice
As far as Belmont.
017 In such a night
Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well,
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith
And ne’er a true one.
020 In such a night
021 Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,
Slander her love, and he forgave it her.
Jes. I would out-night you, did no body come;
But, hark, I hear the footing of a man.
025 Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night?
Steph. A friend.
Lor. A friend! what friend? your name, I pray you, friend?
Steph. Stephano is my name; and I bring word
My mistress will before the break of day
030 Be here at Belmont: she doth stray about
By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays
032 For happy wedlock hours.
Who comes with her?
Steph. None but a holy hermit and her maid.
034 I pray you, is my master yet return’d?
035 Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard from him.
But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica,
037 And ceremoniously let us prepare
Some welcome for the mistress of the house.
Laun. Sola, sola! wo ha, ho! sola, sola!
040 Lor. Who calls?
041 Laun. Sola! did you see Master Lorenzo? Master Lorenzo, sola, sola!
Lor. Leave hollaing, man: here.
Laun. Sola! where? where?
045 Lor. Here.
Laun. Tell him there’s a post come from my master, with his horn full of good news: my master will be here ere morning. [Exit.
049 Lor. Sweet soul, let’s in, and there expect their coming.
050 And yet no matter: why should we go in?
051 My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you,
Within the house, your mistress is at hand;
053 And bring your music forth into the air. [Exit Stephano.
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
055 Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven
059 Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold:
060 There’s not the smallest orb which thou behold’st
But in his motion like an angel sings,
062 Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins;
063 Such harmony is in immortal souls;
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
065 Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
066 Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn!
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress’ ear,
068 And draw her home with music. [Music.
Jes. I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
070 Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive:
For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud,
Which is the hot condition of their blood;
075 If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound,
Or any air of music touch their ears,
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,
Their savage eyes turn’d to a modest gaze
079 By the sweet power of music: therefore the poet
080 Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods;
Since nought so stockish, hard and full of rage,
082 But music for the time doth change his nature.
The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
085 Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
087 And his affections dark as Erebus:
Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music.
Por. That light we see is burning in my hall.
090 How far that little candle throws his beams!
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
092 Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the candle.
Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less:
A substitute shines brightly as a king,
095 Until a king be by; and then his state
Empties itself, as doth an inland brook
Into the main of waters. Music! hark!
098 Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house.
Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect:
100 Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day.
101 Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.
Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark,
When neither is attended; and I think
The nightingale, if she should sing by day,
105 When every goose is cackling, would be thought
106 No better a musician than the wren.
How many things by season season’d are
To their right praise and true perfection!
109 Peace, ho! the moon sleeps with Endymion,
110 And would not be awaked. [Music ceases.
110 That is the voice,
Or I am much deceived, of Portia.
112 Por. He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo,
By the bad voice.
Dear lady, welcome home.
114 Por. We have been praying for our husbands’ healths,
115 Which speed, we hope, the better for our words.
Are they return’d?
Madam, they are not yet;
But there is come a messenger before,
To signify their coming.
Go in, Nerissa;
Give order to my servants that they take
120 No note at all of our being absent hence;
121 Nor you, Lorenzo; Jessica, nor you. [A tucket sounds.
122 Lor. Your husband is at hand; I hear his trumpet:
We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not.
Por. This night methinks is but the daylight sick;
125 It looks a little paler: ’tis a day,
Such as the day is when the sun is hid.
Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes,
If you would walk in absence of the sun.
Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light;
130 For a light wife doth make a heavy husband,
131 And never be Bassanio so for me:
132 But God sort all! You are welcome home, my lord.
Bass. I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my friend.
This is the man, this is Antonio,
135 To whom I am so infinitely bound.
Por. You should in all sense be much bound to him,
For, as I hear, he was much bound for you.
Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of.
Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house:
140 It must appear in other ways than words,
Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy.
Gra. [To Nerissa] By yonder moon I swear you do me wrong;
In faith, I gave it to the judge’s clerk:
Would he were gelt that had it, for my part,
145 Since you do take it, love, so much at heart.
Por. A quarrel, ho, already! what’s the matter?
Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
148 That she did give me, whose posy was
For all the world like cutler’s poetry
150 Upon a knife, ‘Love me, and leave me not.’
Ner. What talk you of the posy or the value?
152 You swore to me, when I did give it you,
153 That you would wear it till your hour of death,
And that it should lie with you in your grave:
155 Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,
You should have been respective, and have kept it.
157 Gave it a judge’s clerk! no, God’s my judge,
158 The clerk will ne’er wear hair on’s face that had it.
Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man.
160 Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man.
Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth,
162 A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy,
No higher than thyself, the judge’s clerk,
A prating boy, that begg’d it as a fee:
165 I could not for my heart deny it him.
166 Por. You were to blame, I must be plain with you,
To part so slightly with your wife’s first gift;
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger
169 And so riveted with faith unto your flesh.
170 I gave my love a ring, and made him swear
Never to part with it; and here he stands;
I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it
Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth
That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano,
175 You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief:
An ’twere to me, I should be mad at it.
Bass. [Aside] 177 Why, I were best to cut my left hand off,
And swear I lost the ring defending it.
Gra. My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away
180 Unto the judge that begg’d it and indeed
Deserved it too; and then the boy, his clerk,
That took some pains in writing, he begg’d mine;
And neither man nor master would take aught
But the two rings.
What ring gave you, my lord?
185 Not that, I hope, which you received of me.
Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault,
I would deny it; but you see my finger
Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone.
189 Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth.
190 By heaven, I will ne’er come in your bed
Until I see the ring.
Nor I in yours
Till I again see mine.
Sweet Portia,
If you did know to whom I gave the ring,
If you did know for whom I gave the ring,
195 And would conceive for what I gave the ring,
And how unwillingly I left the ring,
When nought would be accepted but the ring,
You would abate the strength of your displeasure.
Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring,
200 Or half her worthiness that gave the ring,
201 Or your own honour to contain the ring,
You would not then have parted with the ring.
What man is there so much unreasonable,
If you had pleased to have defended it
205 With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty
To urge the thing held as a ceremony?
Nerissa teaches me what to believe:
I’ll die for’t but some woman had the ring.
209 Bass. No, by my honour, madam, by my soul,
210 No woman had it, but a civil doctor,
211 Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me,
And begg’d the ring; the which I did deny him,
213 And suffered him to go displeased away;
214 Even he that did uphold the very life
215 Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady;
I was enforced to send it after him;
I was beset with shame and courtesy;
My honour would not let ingratitude
So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady;
220 For, by these blessed candles of the night,
Had you been there, I think you would have begg’d
222 The ring of me to give the worthy doctor.
Por. Let not that doctor e’er come near my house:
Since he hath got the jewel that I loved,
225 And that which you did swear to keep for me,
I will become as liberal as you;
I’ll not deny him any thing I have,
No, not my body nor my husband’s bed:
Know him I shall, I am well sure of it:
230 Lie not a night from home; watch me like Argus:
If you do not, if I be left alone,
Now, by mine honour, which is yet mine own,
233 I’ll have that doctor for my bedfellow.
Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advised
235 How you do leave me to mine own protection.
Gra. Well, do you so: let not me take him, then;
For if I do, I’ll mar the young clerk’s pen.
Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels.
239 Por. Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome notwithstanding.
240 Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong;
And, in the hearing of these many friends,
I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes,
Wherein I see myself,—
Mark you but that!
244 In both my eyes he doubly sees himself;
245 In each eye, one: swear by your double self,
And there’s an oath of credit.
Nay, but hear me:
Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear
I never more will break an oath with thee.
249 Ant. I once did lend my body for his wealth;
250 Which, but for him that had your husband’s ring,
Had quite miscarried: I dare be bound again,
My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord
Will never more break faith advisedly.
Por. Then you shall be his surety. Give him this,
255 And bid him keep it better than the other.
Ant. Here, Lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring.
Bass. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor!
258 Por. I had it of him: pardon me, Bassanio;
For, by this ring, the doctor lay with me.
260 Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano;
For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor’s clerk,
262 In lieu of this last night did lie with me.
Gra. Why, this is like the mending of highways
264 In summer, where the ways are fair enough:
265 What, are we cuckolds ere we have deserved it?
Por. Speak not so grossly. You are all amazed:
Here is a letter; read it at your leisure;
It comes from Padua, from Bellario:
There you shall find that Portia was the doctor,
270 Nerissa there her clerk: Lorenzo here
Shall witness I set forth as soon as you,
272 And even but now return’d; I have not yet
Enter’d my house. Antonio, you are welcome;
And I have better news in store for you
275 Than you expect: unseal this letter soon;
There you shall find three of your argosies
Are richly come to harbour suddenly:
You shall not know by what strange accident
I chanced on this letter.
I am dumb.
280 Bass. Were you the doctor and I knew you not?
Gra. Were you the clerk that is to make me cuckold?
Ner. Ay, but the clerk that never means to do it,
Unless he live until he be a man.
Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow:
285 When I am absent, then lie with my wife.
Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life and living;
For here I read for certain that my ships
288 Are safely come to road.
How now, Lorenzo!
My clerk hath some good comforts too for you.
290 Ner. Ay, and I’ll give them him without a fee.
There do I give to you and Jessica,
From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift,
After his death, of all he dies possess’d of.
Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way
Of starved people.
295 It is almost morning,
And yet I am sure you are not satisfied
297 Of these events at full. Let us go in;
298 And charge us there upon inter’gatories,
And we will answer all things faithfully.
300 Gra. Let it be so: the first inter’gatory
That my Nerissa shall be sworn on is,
Whether till the next night she had rather stay,
303 Or go to bed now, being two hours to day:
But were the day come, I should wish it dark,
305 That I were couching with the doctor’s clerk.
Well, while I live I’ll fear no other thing
So sore as keeping safe Nerissa’s ring. [Exeunt.
Dramatis Personæ. ‘The Actors Names’ were first given in the third Quarto, and repeated in Q4. A new list was given by Rowe. The spelling of the name Salanio varies between ‘Salanio’ and ‘Solanio;’ that of Salarino between ‘Salerino,’ ‘Saleryno,’ ‘Salirino,’ ‘Salino’ and ‘Solarino.’ The preponderance of authority seems to favour the spelling given in our text, and we have not thought it worth while to mention each variation as it occurs. Antonio is spelt throughout ‘Anthonio,’ Balthasar ‘Balthazar’ or ‘Balthazer,’ and Launcelot ‘Launcelet,’ in the old editions. See note (ix).
i. 3. 129. A breed for barren metal. Pope says in a note: ‘The old editions (two of ’em) have it, A bribe of barren metal.’ This reading is not found in any copy that we have seen of Quarto or Folio, or of either edition of Rowe.
ii. 2. 52. Mr Knight remarks ‘this sentence is usually put interrogatively, contrary to the punctuation of all the old copies, which is not to be so utterly despised as the modern editors would pretend.’ Mr Grant White follows Mr Knight, and has a long note justifying the punctuation. Mr Dyce’s remark that the sentence is a repetition of the preceding interrogation, at line 42, seems conclusive as to the sense. Nothing is more frequent than the omission of the note of interrogation in the older editions, apparently from a paucity of types.
ii. 7. 77. The Folios have ‘Flo. Cornets’ at the beginning of the next scene after ‘Enter Salarino and Solanio.’ Rowe, Pope, Theobald, Hanmer, Warburton, and Johnson (ed. 1765) omitted all notice of this stage direction. Capell transferred it to the beginning of Scene 7. Mr Dyce added ‘Cornets’ at the end of the scene also. We have adopted the suggestion, as the Prince’s leaving the stage would naturally be accompanied with the same pomp as his entrance.
ii. 8. 42. In the copy of Capell’s edition which he gave to Trinity College Library, he has put a comma after ‘mind’ in red ink. Johnson marked the passage with an asterisk as probably corrupt.
ii., 9. 68. Mr Staunton in a note to The Taming of the Shrew, Act i. Sc. 1, mentions, on Sir F. Madden’s authority, that ‘I wis’ is undoubtedly derived from the Saxon adverb ‘gewis,’ but in the thirteenth century ‘ge’ was changed to ‘y’ or ‘i,’ and in the latter end of the fifteenth it was probably held to be equivalent to the German ‘Ich weiss.’ There can be no doubt that Shakespeare spelt it ‘I wis’ and used it as two words, pronoun and verb.
iii. 2. 61. Mr Halliwell says that Roberts’s Quarto reads then for thou. It is not so in our copy.
iii. 2. 66. Johnson follows Hanmer in reading ‘Reply’ as a stage direction. It is true that the words ‘Reply, reply’ stand in the margin of the old copies, but they are printed like the song in italics, and seem to be required as part of it by the rhythm and (if we read eye with the Quartos) by the rhyme also. Capell prefixes 1 v. to ‘Tell me, &c.’ and 2 v. to ‘It is engender’d...’ He says that “the words ‘reply, reply’ show it to be a song in two parts or by two voices, followed by a chorus of divers assistant voices which ‘all’ indicates.”
iii. 2. 221. We have retained here and throughout the scene the name ‘Salerio,’ which is so spelt consistently in all the old copies. Rowe altered it to ‘Salanio;’ and if the punctuation means anything, the editor of the third Quarto seems to have doubted about the name.
Capell, not Steevens as Mr Dyce says, restored ‘Salerio’ in the text, supposing Shakespeare to have used it as an abridgement of ‘Salerino,’ which he put in the stage direction. Mr Dyce thinks with Mr Knight that it is altogether unlikely that Shakespeare would, without necessity and in violation of dramatic propriety, introduce a new character, ‘Salerio,’ in addition to Salanio and Salerino. Tried by this standard Shakespeare’s violations of dramatic propriety are frequent indeed, and it is no part of an Editor’s duty to correct them.
In the next scene Q2 Q3 Q4 have ‘Salerio,’ altered in the Folios to ‘Solanio;’ for clearly it cannot be the same person as the messenger to Belmont; and in iv. 1. 15 the same Quartos make ‘Salerio’ the speaker, while Q1 and the Folios have merely ‘Sal.’
iii. 4. 72. I could not do withal. In Florio’s Giardino di Ricreatione, p. 9, ed. 1591, the Italian ‘Io non saprei farci altro’ is rendered into English ‘I cannot doo with all;’ and the phrase occurs several times in the same book, meaning always ‘I cannot help it.’
iv. 1. 50. Mr Knight attributes the reading ‘Mistress of...’ to Steevens from the conjecture of Waldron. It was really first adopted by Capell from the conjecture of ‘the ingenious Dr Thirlby.’
Mr Staunton says that in line 51 F1, omits ‘it;’ but this is not the case in our copy.
iv. 1. 56. We have retained the reading ‘woollen’ as it gives a meaning not altogether absurd. In an illuminated copy of an Office de la Vierge in the library of Trinity College there is a representation of a bagpipe which appears to be of sheepskin with the wool on. We incline however to think that Capell’s conjecture ‘wawling’ approaches nearest to the truth.
iv. 1. 74. In the Duke of Devonshire’s copy of Heyes’s Quarto (our Q2) the passage runs thus:
‘well use question with the Woolfe,
the Ewe bleake for the Lambe.’
Lord Ellesmere’s copy agrees with Capell’s literatim, and reads, not ‘bleat,’ as Mr Collier says, but ‘bleake.’
Mr Halliwell says that line 74, Why...lamb, is omitted in one copy of Heyes’s Quarto which he has seen, but that it is found in three other copies.
iv. 1. 209. Warburton has claimed this conjecture in a MS. note to our edition of Theobald, but he did not adopt it in his own text.
iv. 1. 303. Mr Knight incorrectly says that this line is first found in the Folio of 1623. It is in all the quartos.
Enter...Salanio] See note (i).
5, 6: So printed in Q3 Q4: as one line in Q1 Q2 Ff.
10: on] of Steevens (Capell conj.).
13: curt’sy] cursie Q1 Q2.
19: Peering] Piering Q1. Piring Q2. Prying Q3 Q4.
24: at sea might do] at sea, might do Q1. might doe at sea Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
27: Andrew dock’d] Rowe. Andrew docks Qq Ff. Arg’sy dock’d Hanmer. Andrew’s decks Collier conj. Andrew, decks Delius.
33: her] the Q1. my Anon. conj.
46: Why, then you are] Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. Then y’are Q1.
fie!] fie, away! Hanmer.
47: neither?] Q1. neither: Q2 F1 Q3 Q4. neither! F2 F3 F4.
let us] let’s Pope.
48: and] om. Pope.
54: other] others Pope.
56: Enter...] om. Q1. Dyce after line 64.
58: Fare ye well] Q3 Q4 F3 F4. Faryewell Q1 Q2 F1 F2. Fare you well Capell.
68: [Exeunt...] om. Rowe.
69: Lor.] Lord. F2. Sola. Rowe.
you have] you’ve Pope.
72: [Exit. Q1.
78: man] one Q1.
82: heart] heat F2 F3.
84: alabaster] Pope. alablaster Qq Ff.
87: it is] Ff. tis Qq.
89: cream] dreame Q1.
93: am Sir] Qq. am Sir an Ff.
95: these] those Q1.
97: when] who Rowe.
I am] I’m Pope.
98: would] ’twould Collier (Collier MS.).
damn] F4. dam Q1 Q2. damme F1 F2 F3. dant Q3 Q4.
102: fool] fool’s Pope.
103: Fare ye well] farwell Q1.
108: moe] more Rowe.
110: Farewell] Farwell Q1. Far you well Q2 F1. Fare you well F2 Q3 Q4 F3 F4.
gear] jeer Chedworth conj. fear Anon. ap. Halliwell conj.
112: [Exeunt G. and L.] Exeunt Qq Ff.
113: Is...now?] Rowe. It is...now. Qq Ff. It is that:—any thing now. Collier.
now] new Johnson conj.
115: as] om. Ff.
119: the] this Hanmer.
124: something showing] shewing something Pope.
125: continuance] continuance of Chedworth conj.
143: the other forth] the other, forth Hanmer. the first Seymour conj. him forth Lloyd conj.
146: wilful] witless Warburton. wileful Becket conj. wasteful Collier MS.
wilful youth] prodigal Lansdowne version.
155: do me now] Qq. doe F1. do to me F2 F3 F4.
160: unto it] to serve you Mason conj.
163: sometimes] sometime, Theobald.
164: messages] messengers Mason conj.
171: strond] strand Johnson.
172: come] comes Q1.
175: presages me such] which so presages Seymour conj.
178: Neither] Nor Pope.
Scene ii. Belmont...house.] Capell. Three caskets are set out, one of gold, another of silver, and another of lead. Rowe.
Enter...] Enter P. with her waiting woman N. Qq Ff (wating. Q3 Q4).
1: aweary] weary F3 F4.
6, 7: It is no mean happiness, therefore] Qq. It is no small happiness therefore F1 F2 F3. therefore it is no small happiness F4. therefore it is no mean happiness Theobald.
13: It] He Pope.
15: than be] Ff. then to be Qq.
19: reasoning] Qq. reason Ff.
in] om. Mason conj.
the fashion] Qq. fashion Ff.
20, 21: whom...whom] Ff. who...who Qq.
22: Is it] it is F1.
28: will, no doubt, never] Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. no doubt you wil never Q1.
29: who] Q1. who you Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. whom you Pope.
32, 84: pray thee] prethee Q1.
36: colt] dolt Theobald.
37: appropriation to] appropriation unto Q1. approbation of Collier (Collier MS.).
38: him] om. Q1.
39: afeard] Qq. afraid Ff.
40: there is] Q1. is there Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
40, 52: Palatine] Q1. Palentine Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
42: if] Q1. & Q2. and Ff Q3 Q4.
45: be] Qq. to be Ff.
49: Bon] Boune Qq F1 F2. Boun F3 F4.
51: a sin] Qq F1. sin F2 F3 F4.
54: throstle] Pope, trassell Qq F1. tarssell F2. tassell F3 F4.
58: shall] Qq. should Ff.
59: you] om. Capell (corrected in MS.).
63: will] may Pope.
64: the English] English Rowe.
69: Scottish] Qq. other Ff. Irish Collier MS.
71: swore] sworne F2.
79: an the worst] and the worst Qq Ff. and, the worst Hanmer.
87: I’ll] ile Q1. I will Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
90: determinations] determination Rowe.
93: your] you F2.
99: I pray God grant them] Qq. I wish them Ff. wish them Rowe.
101: a scholar] scholler Q1.
103: he was so] Q1. so was he Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
109: How now! what news?] Qq. omitted in Ff.
110: seek for you] Qq. seek you Ff.
114: a] Q1. om Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
118, 119: Printed as prose in Qq Ff; first as verse by Knight.
120: gates] Q1. gate Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
3: months] mouths F2.
14: Ho,...no] Qq F1. No, no, no, no, no F2. No, no, no, no F3 F4.
18: Rialto] Ryalta Qq F1. Ryalto F2 F3. Royalto F4.
19: hath, squandered] Theobald. hath squandred Qq Ff.
21: land-rats] lands rats F2.
water-thieves and land-thieves] land thieves and water thieves Singer (Eccles conj.).
29, 30: to eat...into.] omitted by Johnson.
33: Rialto] Q3 Q4. Ryalto Q1 Q2 F2 F3 F4. Ryalta F1.
34: is he] om. Rowe.
45: well-won] Q1 Q3 Q4. well-wone Q2. well-worne F1 F2 F3. well-worn F4.
47: Shylock] Shyloch Q1.
56: although] Q1 albeit Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
58: ripe] rife Johnson conj.
59, 60: Is...would?] Q2 Q3 Q4. are you resolv’d How much he would have Q1. is he yet possest How much he would Ff. Is he yet possest, How much you would Theobald. are you yet possess’d How much he would Collier MS. Is he yet possess’d How much we would S. Walker conj.
62: you told] he told Hanmer.
63: and let] but let F3 F4.
64: Methought] Q1 Q3 Q4. Me thoughts Q2 Ff.
73: were] was Q3 Q4.
compromised] compremyzd Q1 Q2 F1. comprimyz’d F2 F3. compremiz’d Q3 Q4. comprimis’d F4.
74: eanlings] eanelings Qq F1 F2 F3. euelings F4. ewelings Rowe. yeanlings Pope.
76: In the end] In th’ end Q1. In end Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
77: And] Then Hanmer.
79: peel’d] pyld Q1 Q2. pil’d Ff. pyl’d Q3 Q4.
82: eaning] yeaning Rowe.
89: inserted] inferred Collier MS.
91: breed] breeds F2.
96: A] Or Johnson conj. (who would place line 97 before 94).
97: goodly outside] godly outside Rowe. goodly outside’s Warburton.
99: then, let me see; the rate—] Edd. (Lloyd conj.). then let me see the rate. Qq Ff.
100: beholding] beholden Pope.
102: In] On Collier (Capell conj.)
106: call] call’d Collier MS.
107: spit] F3 F4. spet Qq F1 F2.
111: moneys] money Q1.
117: can] Qq. should Ff.
120, 121: Say...last] As one line in Qq Ff.
121: spit] Pope. spet Qq Ff. spat Rowe (ed. 2).
on Wednesday last] on wendsday last Q1 Q2. last Wednesday Pope. Wednesday last Capell.
122: You] Your F2.
day; another] Ff. day another Qq.
126: spit] Rowe. spet Qq Ff.
128: friends] Qq F1. friend F2 F3 F4.
129: breed for] Qq. breed of Ff. See note (ii).
barren] bearing Theobald conj. (withdrawn). sordid Lansdowne version.
132: penalty] Q1 Q3 Q4. penaltie Q2. penalties Ff.
137: This is] This, sure, is Hanmer.
138: Bass.] Anth. Pope.
This were] Ay, this were Capell.
146: pleaseth] Qq. it pleaseth Ff. it shall please Pope.
147: i’ faith] i faith Q1. in faith Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
148: the Jew] thee, Jew Capell conj. a Jew Id. conj.
156: dealings teaches them] Qq F1. dealing teaches them F2 F3 F4. dealings teach them to Pope.
170: See] Look Capell (corrected in MS.).
fearful] fearless Warburton.
172: I will] Hanmer. Ile Qq Ff.
173: The] Qq. This Ff. Printed as prose in Qq Ff: first as verse by Pope.
kind] so kind Q1.
174: terms] teames F1.
Flourish...attending.] Enter Morochus a tawny Moore all in white and three or foure followers accordingly, with Portia, Nerrissa and their traine. Qq. Enter...traine. Flo. Cornets. F1. Enter Morochius...all white...traine. Flo. Cornets. F2 F3 F4.
2: burnish’d] burning Collier MS.
4: me] om. Q1.
11: Have] Hath Q1.
13: solely] Q3 Q4. soly Q1 Q2 F2 F3. solie F1. soelly F4.
18: wit] will Capell (Grey conj.).
24: scimitar] semitaur Q1. symitare Q2 F1 Q3 Q4. symitar F2 F3 F4.
27: outstare] Q1. ore-stare Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
30: he] Q1 Ff. a Q2 Q3 Q4.
31: thee, lady] Rowe (ed. 2). the lady Qq Ff.
35: page] Theobald. rage Qq Ff.
43: Come...unto] Therefore...to Pope.
unto] to Q1.
46: blest] bless’t Steevens.
Enter L.] Enter the Clown alone. Qq Ff.
1: will] will not Halliwell.
3, 4, 7: Gobbo] Q1. Iobbe Q2 F1 F2 Q3 Q4. Job F3 F4.
Launcelot] Launcelet Qq Ff.
8: running with] running; withe Anon. ap. Steevens conj.
courageous] contagious Collier MS.
9: Via] Rowe. fia Qq Ff.
10: for the] fore the Collier MS.
heavens.] heavens: Capell. haven Mason conj.
19: well] ill Q1.
23: incarnal] Q1. incarnation Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
24: but] om. Ff.
27: command] Q1 commandment Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
28: young man] young-man Q2 Q3 Q4 F3 F4. yong-man F1 F2.
32: confusions] Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. conclusions Q1.
35: up on] Qq. upon Ff.
38: to] unto Q1.
39: By] F4. Be Qq F1 F2 F3.
sonties] bonties Jackson conj.
46: say it] Q1. say’t Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
50: Launcelot] Gobbo Farmer conj.
sir] Qq. om. Ff.
52: Launcelot?] Launcelet? Q3 Q4 F4. Launcelet. Q1 Q2 F1 F2 F3. See note (iii).
57: is] in F2.
62: know] not know Dyce conj.
71: murder] muder Q2.
72: at the length] Q1. in the end Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
73: will out] Qq F1. will not F2 F3 F4.
85: might] om. Capell (corrected in MS.).
87: fill-horse] Pope (ed. 2). pil-horse Q1. philhorse Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. thill-horse Theobald.
90: of my] Qq F1. F2. on my F3 F4.
last] lost Q2 F1.
93: ’gree] gree Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. agree Q1.
98: my] your Anon. conj.
101: not him] Qq Ff. him not Rowe.
103: Enter...] Enter B. with a follower or two. Qq Ff.
107: [Exit...] om. Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. Exit one of his men. Q1.
122: frutify] fortify Lloyd conj.
139: speak’st] split’st Warburton conj.
143: no;] no? Rowe (ed. 2).
have] ha Q1.
144: head.] head? Rowe (ed. 2).
looking on his own hand. Hanmer.
head. Well,] Q1. head, wel: Q2. head, well: F1 F2. head: well, Q3 Q4. head well: F3 F4.
145: doth] Here Warburton thinks a line has been lost.
table which...book] table (which...book) Jackson conj. table—why, it doth...book Kenrick conj.
book, I] book.—I Johnson (Heath conj.).
146: good] no good Malone conj.
fortune.] fortune,— Tyrwhitt conj.
148: a’leven] a leven Q2 F1 F2 Q3 Q4. a leaven F3 F4. eleven Q1.
149: ’scape] escape Q1.
153: of an eye] Q1 om. Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
[Exeunt...] Exit Clown. Qq Ff.
157: go] Q1. goe Q2 F1 Q3 Q4. gon F2. gone F3 F4.
159: Scene iii. Pope.
[Exit.] Put after line 158 in Qq Ff.
162: a] om. Q2.
163: You must] Nay, you must Hanmer, reading as verse.
165: thee] me Q3 Q4.
168, 169: faults; But...known,] Ff Q3 Q4. faults, But...knowne. Q1. faults But...knowne; Q2.
170: Pray thee] prethee Q1.
173: misconstrued] misconstred Qq. misconsterd F1 F2 F3. misconster’d F4.
174: hopes] hope Q3 Q4.
175: I] om. F2.
177: pocket] pockets Rowe.
188: fare you well] faryewell Q1.
Scene iii.] Scene iv. Pope.
Enter...] Enter J. and the Clown. Qq Ff.
1: I am] I’m Pope.
9: in talk] Qq. talk Ff.
11: did] F2 F3 F4. doe Qq F1.
11, 12: did...get thee] do...get thee— Steevens.
13: something] Qq. somewhat Ff.
17: child!] child? Rowe. child, Qq Ff.
Scene iv.] Scene v. Pope.
5: us yet] as yet F4.
8: o’] a Q1 F3 F4. of Q2 F1 F2 Q3 Q4.
9: Enter...] Ff. Enter L. Qq.
10: An it shall] And it shall Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. If it Q1.
10, 11: it shall seem] shall it seeme. F1.
13: whiter] whither F2.
14: Is] Qq. I Ff.
21: Go, gentlemen] go. Gentlemen Capell.
[Exit L.] Exit Clown. Qq Ff, placing it after line 23.
22: you] om. Q1.
this] th’ Hanmer.
Scene v.] Scene vi. Pope.
Enter S. and L.] Enter the Jew and Lancelet. Q1. Enter Jew and his man that was the Clown. Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
1: shalt] shall F1 F2.
7: do] Qq Ff. did Rowe.
8: that] Q1. om. Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
8, 9: Printed in Q2 Ff Q3 Q4 as two lines, ending me...bidding.
25: i’ the] in the Q1. ith Q2 F1 F2 Q3 Q4. ith’ F3. i’ th’ F4.
27: What, are there] Q1. What are there Q2 Q3 Q4. What are their Ff. What are these Pope.
you] om. Q1.
29: squealing] Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. squeaking Q1.
wry-neck’d] wry-neck Chedworth conj.
39: I will go before] I’ll go before you S. Walker conj.
at] at a Q1.
42: Jewess’] Pope. Jewes Qq F1 F2. Jew’s F3 F4.
46: and he] Qq. but he F1. but F2 F3 F4.
52, 53: Do...find] Q1; printed as one line in Q2 Ff Q3 Q4; bye Theobald as two lines, ending bid you...find.
52: Do...bid you] om. Pope.
doors] the doors Pope, who prints as one line Shut...find.
53: Fast...fast] safe...safe Collier Ms.
Scene vi.] Scene vii. Pope. Dyce makes no new scene here.
Enter...] Enter the maskers, Gratiano and Salarino. Q1. Enter the maskers, Gratiano and Salerino. Q2 Q3 Q4. Enter the maskers, Gratiano and Salino. Ff.
2: to make] om. Steevens.
stand] Qq. a stand Ff.
almost] om. Grey conj.
5: pigeons] widgeons Warburton.
6: seal] Qq. steal Ff.
14: younker] Rowe. younger Qq Ff.
17: the] Qq. a Ff.
doth she] Qq F1 F2. she doth F3 F4. doth he Steevens conj.
18: over-weather’d] over-wetherd Q1 Q2. over-weatherd Q3 Q4. over-wither’d Ff.
24: I’ll...then] Then will I watch as long for you Jackson conj.
you then. Approach] you. Come then, approach Ritson conj.
Approach] Qq Ff. Come, approach Pope.
25: Ho!] Ho, Q1. Howe Q2. Hoa Ff. Hoe Q3 Q4.
who’s] whose Qq.
33: it is] tis Q1.
34: I am] I’m Pope.
41: shames] shame F2.
44: are you] Qq. you are Ff.
45: lovely garnish of a] garnish of a lovely Collier MS.
50: more] Ff. mo Qq.
51: Gentile] Q1 Q3 Q4 F2 F3 F4. gentle Q2 F1.
52: Beshrew] Q1 Ff. Beshrow Q2 Q3 Q4.
58: gentlemen] gentleman Q2.
59: [Exit...] Exit. Qq Ff.
60: Who’s there] Whose there Q2.
61: Fie, fie] Fie Pope.
66: I...you] omitted in Q1.
67, 68: Continued to Antonio in Q1.
Scene vii.] Scene iii. Rowe. Scene viii. Pope.
[Flourish of cornets.] Flourish. Capell. om. Qq Ff. See note (iv).
Enter...] Enter Portia with Morrocho, and both their trains. Qq Ff.
5: many] Qq. om. Ff.
10: How...right?] This line is repeated in F1 F2.
12: withal] with all Collier.
18: threatens. Men] Rowe. threatens men Qq Ff.
21: nor give] Qq Ff. not give Rowe (ed. 2).
24: Morocco] Morrochius Pope.
26: thy] the F4.
29: afeard] afraid Q3 Q4.
34: deserve] deserve her Collier (Capell conj.).
41: vasty] Q1. vastie Q2 Q3 Q4. vaste F1 F2. vast F3 F4.
45: Spits] Spets Qq Ff.
51: rib] Q1 Ff. ribb Q2 Q3 Q4.
57: Stamped] Rowe (ed. 2). Stampt Qq Ff.
62: [He...casket.] om. Qq Ff.
62–64: O hell...scroll] As in Capell. As two lines ending Death ... scroll in Qq Ff.
64: I’ll...writing] Qq F1. omitted in F2 F3 F4.
69: tombs do] Capell (Johnson conj.). timber do Q1 F2 F4. timber doe Q2 F1 Q3 Q4. wood may Pope.
72: Your] This Johnson conj.
Here Holt White would repeat line 65, All ... gold.
Scene viii.] Scene iv. Rowe. Scene ix. Pope. Scene vii. Dyce. Act iii. Scene i. Johnson conj.
6: came] Qq. comes Ff.
8: gondola] Theobald. gondylo Qq. gondilo Ff. gondalo Rowe.
9: amorous] armorous Q1.
20: two stones, two] Qq F1. two F2 F3 F4. two stones, Pope. too—two Collier (Collier MS.).
34: do not] do’t not Heath conj.
for] lest Capell (corrected in MS.).
39: Slubber] Q1 Ff. Slumber Q2 Q3 Q4.
42: enter in....of] entertain....off Jackson conj.
mind of love] mind, of love Bennet Langton conj. bond of love Staunton conj. See note (v).
43: employ] apply Collier (Collier MS.).
52: embraced] enraced Warburton. entranced Johnson conj. (withdrawn). impressed Jackson conj. unbraced Anon. ap. Halliwell conj.
Scene ix.] Scene v. Rowe. Scene x. Pope. Scene viii. Dyce.
3: Flourish of cornets.] Ff. om. Qq.
Enter...] Enter Arragon, his traine and Portia. Qq Ff.
7: you] Qq. thou Ff.
13–15: marriage: Lastly, If I do] Edd. marriage: Lastly, if I do Qq Ff. marriage: Last, if I Pope. marriage; lastly, If I do Capell.
19, 20: me. Fortune...hope!] me, fortune...hope: Qq Ff.
22: After this line Mr Lloyd proposes to insert ‘Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves:’ see l. 35.
25: desire!] desire, Qq Ff.
’many’ may] may Pope.
25, 26: that...By the] by that many may be Meant the Grant White conj.
26: By the fool] Of the full Pope.
28: pries not to the] prize not the Collier MS.
30: road] rode Qq Ff.
33: multitudes] multitude S. Walker conj.
39: merit?] Rowe. merit, Qq Ff.
42: and] om. Pope.
46: peasantry] Q2 Q3 Q4. pesantry Q1. pleasantry Ff.
46–48: glean’d...Pick’d] pick’d...Glean’d Johnson conj.
48: chaff] F4. chaffe Q1 F1 F2 Q3 Q4 F3. chaft Q2.
ruin] rowing or rowen Steevens conj.
49: varnish’d] vernish’d Q1. varnist Q2. vanned Warburton.
51: for this] om. Steevens (Ritson conj.).
52: [He...casket.] Rowe. om. Qq Ff.
57: deservings] deserving F4.
58: have] Qq Ff. get Knight.
60: prize] price Capell conj.
62: is] om. Q1.
64: judgement] judement Q2.
70: wife] wise Jackson conj.
72: be gone] Qq F1. be gone sir F2 F3 F4. farewel, sir Capell.
73: Still] Q1. Arrag. Still Q2 Q3 Q4. Ar. Still Ff.
78: wroth] Q3 Q4. wroath Q1 Q2 Ff. wrath Warburton. roth Dyce.
[Exeunt...train.] Capell. [Exit. Rowe. om. Qq Ff.
79: moth] Q1 F3 F4. moath Q2 F1 F2 Q3 Q4.
81: the wisdom] their wisdome Q1.
83: goes] go Hanmer.
84: Enter a Servant.] Rowe. Enter Messenger. Qq Ff.
85: Por.] Ner. Tyrwhitt conj.
90: courteous] curious Q3 Q4.
95: fore-spurrer] fore-spurrier Capell (corrected in MS.).
96: afeard] afraid Pope.
97: Thou wilt] Thou’lt Pope.
100: Quick Cupid’s post] Cupid’s quick post Collier MS.
101: Bassanio, lord Love,] Rowe. Bassanio Lord, love Q1 Q2 F1 F2 F3. Bassanio, Lord, Love Q3 Q4. Bassanio Lord, love, F4.
6: gossip Report] Q2 Q3 Q4. gossips report Q1 Ff.
8: as lying a] as a lying Q1.
12: honest Antonio] honest Antho. F2 F3 F4.
19: my] thy Theobald (Warburton).
Enter Shylock.] Q1. In Q2 Ff Q3 Q4 after line 20.
21: knew] know Q1.
26: fledged] fledg’d Q1 Ff. flidge Q2 Q3 Q4. fledge Capell.
31: years] times Rowe (ed. 2).
32: blood] Q1 Ff. my blood Q2 Q3 Q4.
35: rhenish] Rowe. rennish Qq F1 F2. rhennish F3 F4.
36: any loss at sea] at losse a sea Q1.
37, 38: a prodigal] for a prodigal Warburton.
38: dare] dares Rowe (ed. 2).
39: was used] us’d Rowe (ed. 2). was wont Collier MS.
47: half] of half Warburton.
49: his reason] Qq. the reason Ff.
53: means] medicines Warburton conj.
54: winter and summer] summer and winter Hanmer.
59: humility? Revenge] Rowe. humility, revenge? Qq Ff.
60: by Christian] by a Christian F3 F4.
example? Why, revenge.] F4. example, why revenge? Qq F1. example? why revenge F2 F3.
62: Enter a Servant.] Enter a man from Anthonio. Qq Ff.
67: [Exeunt...] Exeunt Gentlemen. Qq Ff.
68: Genoa] Genowa Qq F1 F2 F3. Geneva F4.
77: would] O would Q1.
78: them? Why, so:] them, why so: Q1. them, why so? Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
79: what’s] whats Qq. how much is Ff.
thou] Qq F1. then F2 F3 F4. there! Lloyd conj.
82: lights on] Q1. lights a Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. lights o’ Rowe (ed. 2).
82, 83: but of] Q1. but a Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. but o’ Rowe (ed. 2).
85: heard in] heard, is in Q3 Q4.
Genoa] Genoway Q1. Genowa Q2 F2 Q3 Q4 F3. Genoua F4.
86: What, what, what?] What, what, Rowe.
88: Is’t, is’t] Q1. Is it, is it Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
91: thee] the Q1.
92: where] Rowe. heere Qq. here Ff.
93: in] Q1. om. Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
99: to] unto Q1.
that swear] that swear that Q1.
101: of it] on’t Q1.
108: Tubal] om. Pope.
111: I will. Go, go] Pope. I will go: go Q1. I will: goe Q3 F1. I will: go F2 Q3 Q4 F3 F4.
Scene ii. Enter...] Enter B. P. G. and all their Traines. Qq. (traine. Ff.)
1: Por.] Por. [Aside to Bass. Anon. conj.
3: therefore] om. Pope.
11: I am then] Q1. then I am Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
16: half yours] half F2 F3 F4. yours Capell.
17: if] Qq. of F1. first F2 F3 F4.
18: O] Qq Ff. Alas Pope.
19: Put] F2 F3. Puts Qq F1 F4.
20: not yours] I’m not yours Johnson conj.
so] not so Capell.
21: it, not I] it, not me Hanmer. it. Not I Warburton. it—Not I Johnson.
22: peize] Qq Ff. poize Rowe (ed. 1). peece Rowe (ed. 2). piece Johnson. pause Collier MS.
23: eke] eck Q1. ech Q2. ich F1 F2 F3. eech Q3 Q4. itch F4.
eke it] eche it out Pope (ed. 2).
to draw] draw F2 F3 F4.
it out] out Q1.
30: life] league S. Walker conj.
33: do] doth F1.
44: Then] [Aside] Then Anon. conj.
46: proper] just Pope.
54: presence] prescience Becket conj.
61: thou] See note (vii).
much much] Q2 F2 Q3 Q4 F3. much Q1 F1 F4.
62: I] To Q1.
Music.] Here Music. Ff. om. Qq.
whilst...] the whilst. Qq Ff.
63: is] his Warburton.
66: Reply, reply] Reply Hanmer. See note (viii).
67: eye] Qq. eyes Ff.
71: I’ll begin it] Printed in Roman letters in Qq Ff, the rest of the song being in italics.
81: vice] F2 F3 F4. voice Qq F1.
82: mark] om. Q1.
93: make] Pope. maketh Q1 Q2. makes Ff Q3 Q4.
97: guiled] Qq F1. guilded F2 F3 F4. gilded Rowe. guilty Warburton. guiling Becket conj.
99: Indian beauty;] Indian dowdy; Hanmer. Indian; beauty’s Harness (Theobald conj.). Indian gipsy; S. Walker conj. Indian: beauty, Collier MS. Indian favour; Lettsom conj. Indian Idol; Anon. ap. Halliwell conj. Indian visage or Indian feature; Spedding conj. Indian beldam Edd. conj.
100: times] tires or trims Theobald conj.
101: Therefore] Q1. Therefore then Q2 F1 Q3 Q4. Then Pope.
102: food] foole Q1.
103: pale] stale Farmer conj.
106: paleness] Qq Ff. plainness Theobald (Warburton).
108: [Aside] Edd.
110: shuddering] shyddring Qq.
green-eyed] green-hode Becket conj.
111: O...moderate] Be moderatee love Hanmer.
112: rein] reine Q3 Q4. range Q1. raine Q2 F1 F2. rain F3 F4. pour Lansdowne version.
114: surfeit] surfeit me Steevens conj. surfeit in’t or surfeit on’t Anon. conj.
What find I] What do I find Hanmer. Ha! what find I Capell.
[Opening...] om. Qq Ff.
117: whether] Ff Q3 Q4. whither Q1 Q2.
119: sugar] sugar’d Pope.
122: to entrap] t’ intrap Q1 Ff Q3 Q4. tyntrap Q2.
126: itself] himself Johnson conj. it’s self Jackson conj.
unfurnish’d] Qq Ff. unfinish’d Rowe. half-furnish’d Anon. ap. Halliwell conj.
144: still...in a] gazing still in Pope.
145: peals] Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. pearles Q1.
149: me] Qq. my Ff.
Bassanio] Bassiano F1 F2.
154: ten thousand] ten Lloyd conj.
155, 156: Printed as one line in Qq Ff.
156: only] om. F2 F3 F4.
159: sum of something,] summe of something: Q1 Q3 Q4. sume of something: Q2. sum of nothing: Ff. some of something, Warburton.
162: happier than] happier then Qq F1. happier then in F2 F3 F4. more happy then in Pope. and happier than Steevens. and happier in Lloyd conj.
this,] this, in that Capell.
164: is] in Collier (Collier MS.).
168: but now I] I but now Pope.
the lord] Qq Ff. the lady Rowe. lady Pope.
169: master] Qq Ff. mistress Rowe.
172: lord] lord’s Q2.
186: Bassanio’s] Ff Q3 Q4. Bassanio is Q1. Bassanios Q2.
197: have] gave F1.
200: loved for intermission.] F3 F4. loved: for intermission Theobald. lov’d for intermission, Q1 Q2 F1 F2 F3.
202: casket] Q2 Q3 Q4. caskets Q2 Ff.
204: here] heere Qq F1. heete F2. heat F3 F4. herd Rowe (ed. 1). her Rowe (ed. 2).
sweat] F3 F4. swet Qq F1 F2.
205: roof] roofe Q1. rough Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. tongue Collier MS.
210: is, so] Qq. is so, so Ff.
221, 222, 230: Salerio] Qq Ff. Salanio Rowe. See note (ix).
221: Scene iii. Pope.
Salerio...Venice.] Q1 Q2 Salerio. Ff. Salerio? from Venice. Q3 Q4. Salanio. Rowe. Salerino. Capell.
225: very] om. Q3 Q4.
232: I] Qq F1. om. F2 F3 F4.
234: [Gives...] Theobald.
238: [Opens the letter. Ff. [He opens the Letter. Q1. [Open the letter. Q2 Q3 Q4.
239, 245: yon] Q1. yond Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
244: I would] Qq Ff. Would Pope.
246: steals] Qq Ff. steal Pope.
Bassanio’s] Bassiano’s F1 F2.
251: I must freely] Qq F1. must freely F2 F3 F4. I must Pope.
265: Here is] Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. Heer’s Q1.
266: as] is Pope.
269: Have] Rowe. Hath Qq Ff.
270: and] from Rowe.
272: scape] scaped Anon. conj.
295: condition’d and] condition’d: an Warburton.
unwearied] unwearied’st Hunter conj. most unwearied Lansdowne version.
303: this] his S. Walker conj.
304: Shall] Qq Ff. Should Capell.
through] Qq F1. through my F2 F3 F4. thorough Collier conj.
314, 315: Bid...dear] Put in the margin as spurious by Pope.
317: Bass. [reads] om. Qq Ff.
320: you and I] Qq Ff. you and me Pope.
I, if...death.] I. If...death:— C. Kemble conj.
but see] Qq. see Ff.
323: Por.] om. Q1.
327: No] Q1. Nor Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
Scene iii.] Scene iv. Pope.
Salarino] Q1. Salerio. Q2 Q3 Q4. Solanio. Ff.
1, 3: Gaoler] Johnson. Iaylor Qq F1 F2. Jaylor F3 F4. Goaler Rowe.
2: lent] Qq. lends Ff.
5: I have] I’ve Pope.
6: call’dst] call’st F3 F4.
11: pray thee] prethee Q1.
22: from] Q1 Q2 Ff. him Q3 Q4.
24, 25: I am sure...hold] Printed as prose in F2 F3 F4.
26: law:] law, Capell.
28: Venice,] Venice: Capell.
it] that Seymour conj.
29: Will] ’Twill Capell.
his] Q1. the Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
32: have] Q1 Q2 Ff. hath Q3 Q4.
Scene iv.] Scene v. Pope.
...Balthasar.] Theobald. ...a man of Portia’s. Qq Ff.
1: your] you F2.
3: god-like] gold-like Q3 Q4.
most] om. Pope.
6: relief] relief to Rowe.
10: for] of Pope.
11: Nor] And Pope.
13: equal] Q1 Q3 Q4 F3 F4. egall Q2. egal F1 F2.
15: lineaments, of] lineaments of Warburton.
21: misery] Q1. cruelty Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
23. hear other things.] Theobald (Thirlby conj.). heere other things Qq F1 F2. here other things, F3 F4. here are other things. Rowe.
24: hands] hands, Qq Ff.
27: secret] sacred Collier MS.
32: will we] Q1. we will Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
35: lays] lay Hanmer.
you] Q1 Q2 Ff. me Q3 Q4.
40: And so farewell] Q1. So fare you well Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
43: pleased] ’pris’d Warburton.
44: fare you well] Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. farewell Q1.
45, 46: Now...true] Printed as one line in Qq Ff: corrected by Pope.
46: honest-true] Dyce (S. Walker conj.).
49: Padua] Theobald. Mantua Qq Ff.
53: tranect] traject Rowe. crane, next Jackson conj.
54: words] word Q3 Q4.
55: thee] hee F2.
62: that] Qq Ff. what Rowe (ed. 2).
63: accoutred] apparreld Q1.
72: withal] with all Rowe (ed. 2.) See note (x).
75: I have] I’ve Pope.
81: my] my my Q2.
Scene v.] Scene vi. Pope.
A garden.] Capell.
2: ye] Q1. you Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
3: I fear] I fear for Malone conj.
14: I shun] you shun Rowe.
I fall] you fall Rowe.
19: e’en] in Q2.
24: comes.] come? Q2.
34: is] ’s Q1.
36: less] more Capell conj.
43: Goodly] Good Pope. Good y^e Farmer conj. Goodly: Jackson conj. Good my Anon. ap. Halliwell conj.
48: quarrelling with] quibbling:— what or quibbling without Jackson conj.
56: dear] clear Lloyd conj.
suited] sorted Jackson conj.
61: cheer’st] Ff Q3 Q4. cherst Q2. far’st Q1.
63: Bassanio’s] Bassiano’s F1 F2.
68, 69: mean it, then In] meane it, then In Q1. meane it, it In Q2. meane it, it Is Ff. meane it, In Q3 Q4. merit it, In Pope. moan, it is In Staunton conj.
74, 75: Q1 ends the lines at me...wife.
75: a wife] Ff Q3 Q4. wife Q1 Q2.
79: pray thee] prithee Q1.
80: howsoe’er] howsoere Q1. how so ere Q3 Q4. how so mere Q2. how som ere F1 F2. howsom ere F3. howsome’re F4.
’mong] ’mongst F4.
81: digest] Ff. disgest Qq.
[Exeunt] Ff Q3 Q4. [Exit Q1 Q2.
Scene i. A court...] Capell. The Senate-House. Theobald.
...Salerio, and others.] om. Qq Ff. Salanio, Salarino and others. Capell. om. Qq Ff. Enter... and Gratiano at the bar. Theobald.
3: I am] I’m Pope.
6: dram] dream Becket conj.
7, 8: As three lines ending paines...course:...obdurate, in Q1.
15: Saler.] Salerio. Q2 Q3 Q4. Sal. Q1 Ff. See note (ix).
22: And......penalty] omitted by Rowe.
exact’st] Ff. exacts Qq.
24: loose] lose F4.
25: human] humane Q1 Ff Q3 Q4. humaine Q2.
29: Enow] Enough Rowe.
30: his state] this states Q2.
31: flint] Q1 F2 Q3 Q4 F3 F4. flints Q2 F1.
36: Sabbath] Q1 Ff. Sabaoth Q2. Sabbaoth Q3 Q4.
42, 43: I’ll...it is] I’ll now answer that By saying ’tis Warburton.
43: But, say, it] Capell. But say it Qq Ff.
46: baned] baind Qq Ff. brain’d Rowe.
49: bagpipe] big-pipe Warburton.
50, 51: urine: for affection, Mistress of] Capell (Thirlby conj.). urine for affection. Masters of Qq Ff. (Maisters Q2 F2). ...affection. Masterless Rowe. ...affection, Master of Singer (Thirlby conj.). ...affections, Masters of Hawkins conj. urine for affection: Matters of Jackson conj. urine: for affection Masters our Malone conj. See note (xi).
sways] sway Warburton.
56: woollen] Qq F1 F2 F3. wollen F4. wooden Johnson and Heath conj. wawling Capell conj. swollen Steevens (Hawkins conj.). swelling Hawkins conj. mewling Becket conj. bollen Dyce (Collier MS.). See note (xii).
58: offend, himself] Q1. offend himself Q2 F1 F2 Q3 Q4 F3. offend himself, F4.
65: answers] Q2 Q3 Q4. answere Q1. answer Ff.
66: things] Qq F1. thing F2 F3 F4.
70: think you] think, you Warburton.
the] Qq F1 F2. a. F3 F4.
73: You may] Qq. Or even Ff.
74: Why he...bleat...lamb;] Q3 Q4. Why he...bleake...lambe Q1 Q2. The ewe bleate for the lambe: F1. The ewe bleate for the lambe: when you behold, F2 F3 F4. When you behold the ewe bleat for the lamb; Hanmer. See note (xiii).
75: pines] Ff. of pines Qq.
76: no noise] a noise Hanmer.
77: fretten] Qq. fretted Ff.
79: what’s harder?] what’s harder: Qq. what harder? Ff.
91: your asses] you asses F2.
92: parts] Qq F1. part F2 F3 F4.
93: you bought] your bought F2.
100: ’tis] Ff. tis Q1. as Q2 Q3 Q4. is Capell.
107: Saler.] Q1. Salerio Q2. Sal. FF Q3 Q4. Salan. Knight.
110: messenger] Qq. messengers Ff.
116: earliest] soonest Capell (corrected in MS.).
and] om. F2 F3 F4.
118: dressed...clerk.] Rowe. om. Qq Ff.
119: Scene ii. Pope.
120: From both, my lord.] From both, my L. Q1. From both? my L. Q2. From both: my L. Q3 Q4. From both. My Lord Ff.
[Presenting...] Capell.
122: forfeiture] forfeit Rowe (ed. 2).
123: sole...soul] soule...soule Qq. soale...soule F1 F2. soale...soul F3 F4.
124: but] for Pope.
127: hast] hoast F2.
128.: inexecrable] Qq F1 F2. inexorable F3 F4.
134: human] humane Q1 Ff Q3 Q4. humaine Q2.
136: lay’st] lay’dst Douce conj.
138: starved] starv’d Qq. sterv’d Ff.
142: cureless] Qq. endlesse Ff. careless Pope.
here] om. Q3 Q4.
144: to] Qq. in Ff.
150: Clerk. [reads] Capell. om. Qq Ff.
153: acquainted] acquained F1
cause] case F3 F4.
163: Enter...] Enter P. for Balthazer. Qq Ff, after line 161 (Balthazar F1 F2 Q3 Q4, Balthasar F3 F4). Enter P. dressed like a doctor of laws. Rowe.
164: Come] Qq Came Ff.
174: impugn] impunge Q1.
175: do you not] doe ye not Q1.
181: blest] blessing Seymour conj.
191: likest] lik’st Q1.
199: court] Qq. course Ff.
205: twice] thrice Ritson conj.
209: truth] ruth Theobald conj. (withdrawn). See note (xiv).
215: precedent] Qq. president Ff.
219: I do] Qq. do I Ff.
222, 229, 313: thrice] twice Spedding conj.
225: No, not] Not not Q2.
230: tenour] Q1. tenure Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
250, 251: It...flesh?] As one line in Qq Ff. Corrected by Capell.
Are there...flesh?] Are there scales and balance here To weigh the merchant’s flesh? Lloyd conj.
balance here] ballances here Rowe. scales Pope.
253: do] Qq. should Ff.
254: Is it so...bond?] Qq. It is not...bond? F1 F2 F3. It is not...bond. F4.
258: You, merchant] Qq. Come merchant Ff.
263: her custom] Qq F1. his custom F2 F3 F4.
267: such] sordid Lloyd conj. so much Edd. conj.
misery] Qq F1. a misery F2 F3 F4.
272: love] lover Collier MS.
273: but] Qq. not Ff.
276: presently] Q1 instantly Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
281: ay,] Pope. I Qq Ff. I’d Rowe.
285: whom] Ff. who Qq.
290: I have] I’ve Pope.
292: [Aside.] Rowe.
301: jot] iote Q1 Q2.
303: Take then] Qq. Then take Ff. See note (xv).
313: this] his Capell.
321: cut’st] Q1. tak’st Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
322: be it but] Qq. be it Ff. be ’t but Pope.
323: substance] balance Collier MS.
324: Or] On Theobald.
325: do] om. Pope.
329: you] Qq. thee Ff.
330: thy] Qq Ff. the Pope.
334: He] And Q1.
337: have barely] barely have Pope.
339: so taken] Qq. taken so Ff.
341: question] Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. heere in question Q1.
344: an] Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. any Q1.
348: one] Q2 Ff. on Q1 Q3 Q4.
349: coffer] coster Q1.
355: hast] had F2 F3 F4.
against] Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. gainst Q1.
357: formerly] formally Warburton conj.
363: shalt] may’st Pope.
spirits] Q1. spirit Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
374: God’s sake] Godsake Q2.
376: quit] quite F2.
for] from Hanmer.
379: Upon] Until Hanmer.
his] my Johnson conj.
384: possess’d] possess’d of Capell conj.
393: Gra.] Shy. Q2.
shalt thou] Qq. thou shalt Ff.
395: not] Q1. not to Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
396: home with me] Qq. with me home Ff.
to dinner] dinner Q1.
397: do] om. Q1.
Grace of] Graces Q3 Q4.
403: Scene iii. Pope.
413: more] mere Anon. conj.
418: a fee] Q1 F2 F3 F4. fee Q2 F1 Q3 Q4.
421: [To Ant.] Edd.
422: [To Bass.] Edd.
429: depends on this than on] than this depends upon Q1.
430. will I] I will Q1.
441: the] Q1. this Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
442: enemy] enmity Rowe.
446: ’gainst] Qq. against Ff.
wife’s] Rowe. wives Qq Ff.
commandment] F4. commandement Q1 F1 F2 Q3 Q4 F3. commaundement Q2.
449: [Exit G.] [Exeunt G. Q1.
Scene ii.] Capell. Pope continues Scene iii.
A street.] Street before the Court. Capell.
Enter P. and N.] Ff. Enter N. Qq. Re-enter P. and N. Theobald.
9: His] This Q1.
Avenue......] Capell. A grove or green place before P’s. house. Theobald.
1: As two lines in Q1.
4: walls] Qq F1. wall F2 F3 F4.
6: Cressid] Theobald. Cressada Q1. Cressed Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. Cresseid Pope.
11: waft] Qq Ff. wav’d Theobald.
17: In] And in F2.
17, 18: In...Did young] In...did Young Malone.
20: In] And in F2.
20, 21: In...Did pretty] In...did Pretty Malone.
21: shrew] Q1. shrow Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
32: wedlock] wedlockes Q1.
34: is] it F1.
35: we have not] have we yet Rowe.
37: us] us us F1.
41, 42: Master Lorenzo? Master Lorenzo] Edd. M. Lorenzo, M. Lorenzo Q1. M. Lorenzo, & M. Lorenzo Q2 F1. M. Lorenzo, and M. Lorenza F2. M. Lorenzo, and M. Lorenzo Q3 Q4. M. Lorenzo, and Mrs. Lorenza F3 F4.
49: Lor. Sweet soul, let’s in] Malone. Lor. Sweet love, let’s in Rowe. sweete soule. Lor. Let’s in Qq F1. sweet love. Lor. Let’s in F2 F3 F4.
51: friend] good friend Capell.
Stephano] Q1 F2 F3 F4. Stephen Q2 F1 Q3 Q4.
I] Qq. om. Ff.
53: [Exit S.] Theobald.
59: patines] Malone. pattens Q2 F1 Q3 Q4. pattents Q1. patterns F2 F3 F4. patens Warburton.
62: cherubins] Qq F1 F2. cherubims F3 F4.
63: immortal souls] immortal sounds Theobald (Warburton). th’ immortal soul Johnson conj.
65: it in] Q2 Q3 Q4. in it Q1 Ff. us in it Rowe (ed. 1). us in Rowe (ed. 2).
Enter...] Enter Musick and domesticks of Portia. Capell.
66: with a hymn] with him a hymne Q1.
68: [Music.] Musicke playes Q1. Play Musique. Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
75: but hear perchance] Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. perchance but hear Q1.
79: therefore] thus Pope.
80: trees] Qq F1. tears F2 F3 F4.
82: the] om. F1.
87: Erebus] F2 F3 F4. Terebus Q1 Q2. Erobus F1. Tenebris Q3 Q4.
92: candle.] Q1 Q3 Q4 F4. candle? Q2 F1 F2 F3.
98: your...the] Qq Ff. the...your Rowe.
101: that] the Rowe (ed. 2).
106: wren] renne? Q2.
109: ho!] hoa! Malone. how Qq Ff. now Collier MS.
110: [Music ceases.] Ff. om. Qq.
[Rising. Capell.
112, 113: So in Q2 Q3 Q4. As two lines ending knows...voice in Q1; as prose in Ff.
114: husbands’ healths] Pope. husband health Q1. husbands welfare Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
121: [A tucket sounds.] Ff. om. Qq.
122: his] a Rowe.
131: for] Qq F1. from F2 F3 F4.
132: You are] y’are Q1.
148: me] to me Steevens conj.
148, 151: posy] poesie Q1 Ff. posie Q2 Q3 Q4.
152: it] om. Q2.
153: your] Qq. the Ff.
157: no...judge] Qq. but well I know Ff.
158: on’s] Qq Ff. on his Capell.
160: Ay] I Qq F1. If F2 F3 F4.
162, 261: scrubbed] stubbed Warton conj.
166: to] Q2 F1 Q3 Q4 F4. too Q1 F1 F2 F3.
169: so riveted] riveted Pope. riveted so Capell.
175: a] om. S. Walker conj.
177: [Aside] Theobald.
189: Even] Qq F1. And even F2 F3 F4.
201: contain] retain Pope.
209: my honour] Qq. mine honour Ff.
211: Which] Who Pope.
213: displeased away] away displeased Q1.
214: did uphold] Q1. had held up Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
220: For] Qq. And Ff.
222: the] thee F2 F3.
230: Argus] F2 Q3 Q4 F3. Argos Q1 Q2 F1 F4.
233: that] Qq. the Ff.
my] mine Q2.
239: Printed as two lines, Sir... You are... in Ff.
244: my] Q1 Q2 F1. mine F2 Q3 Q4 F3 F4.
249: his] Qq. thy Ff.
wealth] health Becket conj.
250: husband’s] husband Q1.
258: me] om. Ff.
262: this] thee Grant White.
264: where] when Singer (Collier MS.).
272: even but] Qq. but ev’n Ff.
288: road] Rode Qq F1. Rodes F2. Rhodes F3 F4.
297: Let us] Let’s Q1.
298: upon] on Rowe.
inter’gatories] intergotories Q1 Q2. intergatories F1 F2 Q3 Q4. interrogatories F3 F4.
300: inter’gatory] intergotory Q1 Q2. intergatory F1 F2 Q3 Q4. interrogatory F3 F4.
303: bed now,] Q1 Q3 Q4. bed now Q2. bed, now Ff.
305: That] Q1. Till Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
doctor’s] om. Q1.
Duke, living in banishment.
Frederick, his brother, and usurper of his dominions.
Amiens, lord attending on the banished Duke.
Jaques, ” ” ”
Le Beau2, a courtier attending upon Frederick.
Charles, wrestler to Frederick.
Oliver, son of Sir Rowland de Boys.
Jaques, ” ” ”
Orlando, ” ” ”
Adam, servant to Oliver.
Dennis, ” ”
Touchstone, a clown.
Sir Oliver Martext, a vicar.
Corin, shepherd.
Silvius, ”
William, a country fellow, in love with Audrey3.
A person representing Hymen.
Rosalind, daughter to the banished Duke.
Celia, daughter to Frederick.
Phebe, a shepherdess.
Audrey, a country wench.
Lords, pages, and attendants, &c.
Scene—Oliver’s house; Duke Frederick’s court; and the Forest of Arden.
001 Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion 002 bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, 003 as thou sayest, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well: and there begins my sadness. My brother Jaques 005 he keeps at school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit: for my part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak 007 more properly, stays me here at home unkept; for call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an ox? His horses are bred better; 010 for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, they are taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly hired: but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for the which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully 015 gives me, the something that nature gave me his countenance seems to take from me: he lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of my father, 020 which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against this servitude: I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it.
023 Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother.
Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will 025 shake me up.
026 Oli. Now, sir! what make you here?
Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing.
Oli. What mar you then, sir?
Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God 030 made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness.
031 Oli. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile.
Orl. Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks with them? 034 What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should come to 035 such penury?
Oli. Know you where you are, sir?
Orl. O, sir, very well: here in your orchard.
Oli. Know you before whom, sir?
039 Orl. Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I 040 know you are my eldest brother; and, in the gentle condition of blood, you should so know me. The courtesy of nations allows you my better, in that you are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us: I have as much of 045 my father in me as you; albeit, I confess, your coming before 046 me is nearer to his reverence.
Oli. What, boy!
Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this.
050 Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?
Orl. I am no villain; I am the youngest son of Sir 052 Rowland de Boys; he was my father, and he is thrice a villain that says such a father begot villains. Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat 055 till this other had pulled out thy tongue for saying so: thou hast railed on thyself.
057 Adam. Sweet masters, be patient: for your father’s remembrance, be at accord.
Oli. Let me go, I say.
060 Orl. I will not, till I please: you shall hear me. My father charged you in his will to give me good education: you have trained me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding 063 from me all gentleman-like qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure it: 065 therefore allow me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or give me the poor allottery my father left me by testament; with that I will go buy my fortunes.
Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is spent? Well, sir, get you in: I will not long be troubled with you; 070 you shall have some part of your will: I pray you, leave me.
Orl. I will no further offend you than becomes me for my good.
Oli. Get you with him, you old dog.
Adam. Is ‘old dog’ my reward? Most true, I have lost 075 my teeth in your service. God be with my old master! he would not have spoke such a word. [Exeunt Orlando and Adam.
077 Oli. Is it even so? begin you to grow upon me? I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis!
080 Den. Calls your worship?
081 Oli. Was not Charles, the Duke’s wrestler, here to speak with me?
Den. So please you, he is here at the door and importunes access to you.
085 Oli. Call him in. [Exit Dennis.] ’Twill be a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is.
Cha. Good morrow to your worship.
088 Oli. Good Monsieur Charles, what’s the new news at the new court?
090 Cha. There’s no news at the court, sir, but the old news: that is, the old Duke is banished by his younger brother the new Duke; and three or four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new Duke; therefore he gives them 095 good leave to wander.
096 Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind, the Duke’s daughter, be banished with her father?
098 Cha. O, no; for the Duke’s daughter, her cousin, so loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that 100 she would have followed her exile, or have died to stay behind 101 her. She is at the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do.
Oli. Where will the old Duke live?
105 Cha. They say he is already in the forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England: they say many young gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world.
110 Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new Duke?
111 Cha. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand that your younger brother, Orlando, hath a disposition to come in disguised against me to try a fall. To-morrow, sir, I wrestle 115 for my credit; and he that escapes me without some broken limb shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young and tender; and, for your love, I would be loath to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, if he come in: therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal; that 120 either you might stay him from his intendment, or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into; in that it is a thing of his own search, and altogether against my will.
Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had myself notice of 125 my brother’s purpose herein, and have by underhand means laboured to dissuade him from it, but he is resolute. I’ll tell thee, Charles:—it is the stubbornest young fellow of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man’s good parts, a secret and villanous contriver against me his 130 natural brother: therefore use thy discretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger. And thou wert best look to’t; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous 135 device, and never leave thee till he hath ta’en thy life by some indirect means or other; for, I assure thee, and almost with tears I speak it, there is not one so young and so villanous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but 139 should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and 140 weep, and thou must look pale and wonder.
Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he come to-morrow, I’ll give him his payment: if ever he go alone again, I’ll never wrestle for prize more: and so, God keep your worship!
145 Oli. Farewell, good Charles. [Exit Charles.] Now will I stir this gamester: I hope I shall see an end of him; for 147 my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than he. Yet he’s gentle; never schooled, and yet learned; full of noble device; of all sorts enchantingly beloved; and indeed 150 so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own people, who best know him, that I am altogether misprised: but it shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear all: nothing remains but that I kindle the boy thither; which now I’ll go about. [Exit.
Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry.
Ros. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress 003 of; and would you yet I were merrier? Unless you could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not 005 learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure.
Cel. Herein I see thou lovest me not with the full weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy uncle, the Duke my father, so thou hadst been still with me, I could have taught my love to take 010 thy father for mine: so wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously tempered as mine is to thee.
Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to rejoice in yours.
014 Cel. You know my father hath no child but I, nor 015 none is like to have: and, truly, when he dies, thou shalt be his heir; for what he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in affection; by mine honour, I will; and when I break that oath, let me turn monster: therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be 020 merry.
Ros. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. Let me see; what think you of falling in love?
Cel. Marry, I prithee, do, to make sport withal: but love no man in good earnest; nor no further in sport 025 neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou mayst in honour come off again.
Ros. What shall be our sport, then?
Cel. Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed 030 equally.
Ros. I would we could do so; for her benefits are mightily misplaced; and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women.
Cel. ’Tis true; for those that she makes fair she scarce 035 makes honest; and those that she makes honest she makes 036 very ill-favouredly.
Ros. Nay, now thou goest from Fortune’s office to Nature’s: Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of Nature.
040 Cel. No? when Nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by Fortune fall into the fire? Though Nature hath given us wit to flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in 043 this fool to cut off the argument?
044 Ros. Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, 045 when Fortune makes Nature’s natural the cutter-off of Nature’s wit.
Cel. Peradventure this is not Fortune’s work neither, 048 but Nature’s; who perceiveth our natural wits too dull to 049 reason of such goddesses, and hath sent this natural for our 050 whetstone; for always the dulness of the fool is the whetstone 051 of the wits. How now, wit! whither wander you?
Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your father.
Cel. Were you made the messenger?
Touch. No, by mine honour, but I was bid to come 055 for you.
Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool?
Touch. Of a certain knight that swore by his honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his honour the mustard was naught: now I’ll stand to it, the pancakes 060 were naught and the mustard was good, and yet was not the knight forsworn.
Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge?
064 Ros. Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom.
065 Touch. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave.
Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art.
Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were; but if you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no 070 more was this knight, swearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard.
073 Cel. Prithee, who is’t that thou meanest?
074 Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, loves.
075 Cel. My father’s love is enough to honour him: enough! speak no more of him; you’ll be whipped for taxation one of these days.
Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely 079 what wise men do foolishly.
080 Cel. By my troth, thou sayest true; for since the little wit that fools have was silenced, the little foolery that wise men have makes a great show. Here comes Monsieur 083 Le Beau.
084 Ros. With his mouth full of news.
085 Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young.
Ros. Then shall we be news-crammed.
087 Cel. All the better; we shall be the more marketable.
088 Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau: what’s the news?
089 Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much good sport.
090 Cel. Sport! of what colour?
Le Beau. What colour, madam! how shall I answer you?
Ros. As wit and fortune will.
093 Touch. Or as the Destinies decrees.
Cel. Well said: that was laid on with a trowel.
095 Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank,—
Ros. Thou losest thy old smell.
Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies: I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the sight of.
Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling.
100 Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning; and, if it please your ladyships, you may see the end; for the best is yet to do; and here, where you are, they are coming to perform it.
Cel. Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried.
Le Beau. There comes an old man and his three sons,—
105 Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale.
106 Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence.
Ros. With bills on their necks, ‘Be it known unto all men by these presents.’
110 Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the Duke’s wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him: so he served the second, and so the third. Yonder they lie; the poor old man, their father, making such pitiful 115 dole over them that all the beholders take his part with weeping.
Ros. Alas!
Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have lost?
120 Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of.
Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every day: it is the 122 first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies.
Cel. Or I, I promise thee.
Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken music 125 in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrestling, cousin?
129 Le Beau. You must, if you stay here; for here is the 130 place appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it.
Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming: let us now stay 132 and see it.
133 Duke F. Come on: since the youth will not be entreated, his own peril on his forwardness.
135 Ros. Is yonder the man?
Le Beau. Even he, madam.
Cel. Alas, he is too young! yet he looks successfully.
Duke F. How now, daughter and cousin! are you crept hither to see the wrestling?
140 Ros. Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave.
Duke F. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, 142 there is such odds in the man. In pity of the challenger’s youth I would fain dissuade him, but he will not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies; see if you can move him.
145 Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau.
Duke F. Do so: I’ll not be by.
147 Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the princess calls for you.
149 Orl. I attend them with all respect and duty.
150 Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler?
Orl. No, fair princess; he is the general challenger: I 153 come but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth.
155 Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years. You have seen cruel proof of this man’s strength: if 157 you saw yourself with your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgement, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, 160 to embrace your own safety, and give over this attempt.
Ros. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not therefore be misprised: we will make it our suit to the Duke that the wrestling might not go forward.
Orl. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts; wherein I confess me much guilty, to deny so 165 fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that was never gracious; if killed, but one dead that is willing to be so: I shall do my 170 friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me, the world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when I have made it empty.
174 Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it were 175 with you.
Cel. And mine, to eke out hers.
Ros. Fare you well: pray heaven I be deceived in you!
Cel. Your heart’s desires be with you!
Cha. Come, where is this young gallant that is so 180 desirous to lie with his mother earth?
181 Orl. Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working.
Duke F. You shall try but one fall.
Cha. No, I warrant your Grace, you shall not entreat 185 him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first.
187 Orl. You mean to mock me after; you should not have 188 mocked me before: but come your ways.
Ros. Now Hercules be thy speed, young man!
190 Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow 191 by the leg. [They wrestle.
Ros. O excellent young man!
Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who 194 should down. [Shout. Charles is thrown.
195 Duke F. No more, no more.
Orl. Yes, I beseech your Grace: I am not yet well breathed.
Duke F. How dost thou, Charles?
Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord.
Duke F. Bear him away. What is thy name, young 200 man?
Orl. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys.
Duke F. I would thou hadst been son to some man else:
The world esteem’d thy father honourable,
205 But I did find him still mine enemy:
Thou shouldst have better pleased me with this deed,
Hadst thou descended from another house.
But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth:
209 I would thou hadst told me of another father. [Exeunt Duke Fred., train, and Le Beau.
210 Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this?
Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland’s son,
His youngest son; and would not change that calling,
To be adopted heir to Frederick.
Ros. My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul,
215 And all the world was of my father’s mind:
Had I before known this young man his son,
I should have given him tears unto entreaties,
Ere he should thus have ventured.
Gentle cousin,
Let us go thank him and encourage him:
220 My father’s rough and envious disposition
Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deserved:
If you do keep your promises in love
223 But justly, as you have exceeded all promise,
Your mistress shall be happy.
224 Gentleman, [Giving him a chain from her neck.
225 Wear this for me, one out of suits with fortune,
226 That could give more, but that her hand lacks means.
Shall we go, coz?
Ay. Fare you well, fair gentleman.
Orl. Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts
Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up
230 Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block.
Ros. He calls us back: my pride fell with my fortunes;
I’ll ask him what he would. Did you call, sir?
Sir, you have wrestled well and overthrown
More than your enemies.
Will you go, coz?
235 Ros. Have with you. Fare you well. [Exeunt Rosalind and Celia.
Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue?
I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference.
O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown!
239 Or Charles or something weaker masters thee.
240 Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you
To leave this place. Albeit you have deserved
High commendation, true applause, and love,
Yet such is now the Duke’s condition,
244 That he misconstrues all that you have done.
245 The Duke is humorous: what he is, indeed,
246 More suits you to conceive than I to speak of.
Orl. I thank you, sir: and, pray you, tell me this;
Which of the two was daughter of the Duke,
249 That here was at the wrestling?
250 Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners;
251 But yet, indeed, the taller is his daughter:
252 The other is daughter to the banish’d Duke,
And here detain’d by her usurping uncle,
To keep his daughter company; whose loves
255 Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters.
But I can tell you that of late this Duke
Hath ta’en displeasure ’gainst his gentle niece,
Grounded upon no other argument
259 But that the people praise her for her virtues,
260 And pity her for her good father’s sake;
And, on my life, his malice ’gainst the lady
Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well:
Hereafter, in a better world than this,
I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.
265 Orl. I rest much bounden to you: fare you well. [Exit Le Beau.
Thus must I from the smoke into the smother;
From tyrant Duke unto a tyrant brother:
But heavenly Rosalind! [Exit.
Cel. Why, cousin! why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy! not a word?
Ros. Not one to throw at a dog.
Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away 005 upon curs; throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons.
007 Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up; when the one should be lamed with reasons and the other mad without any.
010 Cel. But is all this for your father?
011 Ros. No, some of it is for my child’s father. O, how full of briers is this working-day world!
Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery: if we walk not in the trodden paths, our 015 very petticoats will catch them.
Ros. I could shake them off my coat: these burs are in my heart.
Cel. Hem them away.
Ros. I would try, if I could cry hem and have him.
020 Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections.
Ros. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself!
Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in despite of a fall. But, turning these jests out of service, 025 let us talk in good earnest: is it possible, on such a sudden, 026 you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland’s youngest son?
Ros. The Duke my father loved his father dearly.
Cel. Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his 030 son dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando.
032 Ros. No, faith, hate him not, for my sake.
033 Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserve well?
034 Ros. Let me love him for that, and do you love him 035 because I do. Look, here comes the Duke.
036 Cel. With his eyes full of anger.
037 Duke F. Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste
And get you from our court.
Me, uncle?
You, cousin:
039 Within these ten days if that thou be’st found
040 So near our public court as twenty miles,
Thou diest for it.
I do beseech your Grace,
Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me:
If with myself I hold intelligence,
044 Or have acquaintance with mine own desires;
045 If that I do not dream, or be not frantic,—
As I do trust I am not,—then, dear uncle,
Never so much as in a thought unborn
Did I offend your Highness.
Thus do all traitors:
If their purgation did consist in words,
050 They are as innocent as grace itself:
Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not.
Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor:
053 Tell me whereon the likelihood depends.
Duke F. Thou art thy father’s daughter; there’s enough.
055 Ros. So was I when your Highness took his dukedom;
So was I when your Highness banish’d him:
Treason is not inherited, my lord;
Or, if we did derive it from our friends,
What’s that to me? my father was no traitor:
060 Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much
To think my poverty is treacherous.
Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak.
Duke F. Ay, Celia; we stay’d her for your sake,
Else had she with her father ranged along.
065 Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay;
066 It was your pleasure and your own remorse:
I was too young that time to value her;
But now I know her: if she be a traitor,
Why so am I; we still have slept together,
070 Rose at an instant, learn’d, play’d, eat together,
And wheresoe’er we went, like Juno’s swans,
072 Still we went coupled and inseparable.
Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and her smoothness,
Her very silence and her patience
075 Speak to the people, and they pity her.
Thou art a fool: she robs thee of thy name;
077 And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous
When she is gone. Then open not thy lips:
Firm and irrevocable is my doom
080 Which I have pass’d upon her; she is banish’d.
Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege:
I cannot live out of her company.
Duke F. You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself:
If you outstay the time, upon mine honour,
085 And in the greatness of my word, you die. [Exeunt Duke Frederick and Lords.
086 Cel. O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt thou go?
087 Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine.
I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I am.
Ros. I have more cause.
089 Thou hast not, cousin;
090 Prithee, be cheerful: know’st thou not, the Duke
Hath banish’d me, his daughter?
That he hath not.
092 Cel. No, hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love
093 Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one:
Shall we be sunder’d? shall we part, sweet girl?
095 No: let my father seek another heir.
Therefore devise with me how we may fly,
Whither to go and what to bear with us;
098 And do not seek to take your change upon you,
To bear your griefs yourself and leave me out;
100 For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale,
Say what thou canst, I’ll go along with thee.
Ros. Why, whither shall we go?
103 Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden
Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us,
105 Maids as we are, to travel forth so far!
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.
Cel. I’ll put myself in poor and mean attire
108 And with a kind of umber smirch my face;
The like do you: so shall we pass along
And never stir assailants.
110 Were it not better,
Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did suit me all points like a man?
A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh,
A boar-spear in my hand; and—in my heart
115 Lie there what hidden woman’s fear there will—
We’ll have a swashing and a martial outside,
As many other mannish cowards have
That do outface it with their semblances.
Cel. What shall I call thee when thou art a man?
120 Ros. I’ll have no worse a name than Jove’s own page;
And therefore look you call me Ganymede.
122 But what will you be call’d?
Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state;
No longer Celia, but Aliena.
125 Ros. But, cousin, what if we assay’d to steal
The clownish fool out of your father’s court?
Would he not be a comfort to our travel?
Cel. He’ll go along o’er the wide world with me;
Leave me alone to woo him. Let’s away,
130 And get our jewels and our wealth together;
Devise the fittest time and safest way
To hide us from pursuit that will be made
133 After my flight. Now go we in content
To liberty and not to banishment. [Exeunt.
001 Duke S. Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods
More free from peril than the envious court?
005 Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
006 The seasons’ difference; as the icy fang
And churlish chiding of the winter’s wind,
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body,
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say
010 ‘This is no flattery: these are counsellors
That feelingly persuade me what I am.’
Sweet are the uses of adversity;
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head:
015 And this our life exempt from public haunt
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones and good in every thing.
018 I would not change it.
Happy is your Grace,
That can translate the stubbornness of fortune
020 Into so quiet and so sweet a style.
Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison?
And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools,
Being native burghers of this desert city,
Should in their own confines with forked heads
Have their round haunches gored.
025 Indeed, my lord,
The melancholy Jaques grieves at that,
And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp
Than doth your brother that hath banish’d you.
To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself
030 Did steal behind him as he lay along
031 Under an oak whose antique root peeps out
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood:
To the which place a poor sequester’d stag,
That from the hunter’s aim had ta’en a hurt,
035 Did come to languish, and indeed, my lord,
The wretched animal heaved forth such groans,
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
Almost to bursting, and the big round tears
Coursed one another down his innocent nose
040 In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool,
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
042 Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook,
Augmenting it with tears.
But what said Jaques?
Did he not moralize this spectacle?
045 First Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes.
First, for his weeping into the needless stream;
‘Poor deer,’ quoth he, ‘thou makest a testament
As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more
049 To that which had too much:’ then, being there alone,
050 Left and abandon’d of his velvet friends;
‘’Tis right,’ quoth he; ‘thus misery doth part
The flux of company:’ anon a careless herd,
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him
And never stays to greet him; ‘Ay,’ quoth Jaques,
055 ‘Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens;
’Tis just the fashion: wherefore do you look
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?’
Thus most invectively he pierceth through
059 The body of the country, city, court,
060 Yea, and of this our life; swearing that we
Are mere usurpers, tyrants and what’s worse,
062 To fright the animals and to kill them up
In their assign’d and native dwelling-place.
Duke S. And did you leave him in this contemplation?
065 Sec. Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and commenting
Upon the sobbing deer.
Show me the place:
I love to cope him in these sullen fits,
For then he’s full of matter.
First Lord. I’ll bring you to him straight. [Exeunt.
Duke F. Can it be possible that no man saw them?
It cannot be: some villains of my court
Are of consent and sufferance in this.
First Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see her.
005 The ladies, her attendants of her chamber,
Saw her a-bed, and in the morning early
They found the bed untreasured of their mistress.
008 Sec. Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft
Your Grace was wont to laugh, is also missing.
010 Hisperia, the princess’ gentlewoman,
Confesses that she secretly o’erheard
Your daughter and her cousin much commend
The parts and graces of the wrestler
That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles;
015 And she believes, wherever they are gone,
That youth is surely in their company.
Duke F. Send to his brother; fetch that gallant hither;
017 If he be absent, bring his brother to me;
I ’ll make him find him: do this suddenly,
020 And let not search and inquisition quail
To bring again these foolish runaways. [Exeunt.
Orl. Who’s there?
Adam. What, my young master? O my gentle master!
O my sweet master! O you memory
Of old Sir Rowland! why, what make you here?
005 Why are you virtuous? why do people love you?
And wherefore are you gentle, strong and valiant?
Why would you be so fond to overcome
008 The bonny priser of the humorous Duke?
Your praise is come too swiftly home before you
010 Know you not, master, to some kind of men
Their graces serve them but as enemies?
No more do yours: your virtues, gentle master,
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.
O, what a world is this, when what is comely
015 Envenoms him that bears it!
016 Orl. Why, what’s the matter?
O unhappy youth!
017 Come not within these doors; within this roof
The enemy of all your graces lives:
Your brother—no, no brother; yet the son—
020 Yet not the son, I will not call him son,
Of him I was about to call his father,—
Hath heard your praises, and this night he means
To burn the lodging where you use to lie
And you within it: if he fail of that,
025 He will have other means to cut you off.
I overheard him and his practices.
This is no place; this house is but a butchery:
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.
029 Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?
030 Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here.
Orl. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food?
Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce
A thievish living on the common road?
This I must do, or know not what to do:
035 Yet this I will not do, do how I can;
I rather will subject me to the malice
037 Of a diverted blood and bloody brother.
Adam. But do not so. I have five hundred crowns,
039 The thrifty hire I saved under your father,
040 Which I did store to be my foster-nurse
041 When service should in my old limbs lie lame,
And unregarded age in corners thrown:
Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
045 Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold;
All this I give you. Let me be your servant:
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty;
For in my youth I never did apply
049 Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood,
050 Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo
The means of weakness and debility;
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you;
I’ll do the service of a younger man
055 In all your business and necessities.
Orl. O good old man, how well in thee appears
057 The constant service of the antique world,
058 When service sweat for duty, not for meed!
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
060 Where none will sweat but for promotion,
And having that do choke their service up
Even with the having: it is not so with thee.
But, poor old man, thou prunest a rotten tree,
That cannot so much as a blossom yield
065 In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry.
But come thy ways; we’ll go along together,
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent,
We’ll light upon some settled low content.
Adam. Master, go on, and I will follow thee,
070 To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty.
071 From seventeen years till now almost fourscore
Here lived I, but now live here no more.
At seventeen years many their fortunes seek;
074 But at fourscore it is too late a week:
075 Yet fortune cannot recompense me better
Than to die well and not my master’s debtor. [Exeunt.
001 Ros. O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits!
Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary.
Ros. I could find in my heart to disgrace my man’s 005 apparel and to cry like a woman; but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat: therefore, courage, good Aliena.
008 Cel. I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no further.
Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with you than 010 bear you: yet I should bear no cross, if I did bear you; for I think you have no money in your purse.
Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden.
013 Touch. Ay, now am I in Arden; the more fool I; when I was at home, I was in a better place: but travellers must 015 be content.
016 Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchstone.
Look you, who comes here; a young man and an old in solemn talk.
Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still.
020 Sil. O Corin, that thou knew’st how I do love her!
Cor. I partly guess; for I have loved ere now.
Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess,
Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover
024 As ever sigh’d upon a midnight pillow:
025 But if thy love were ever like to mine,—
As sure I think did never man love so,—
How many actions most ridiculous
Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?
Cor. Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
030 Sil. O, thou didst then ne’er love so heartily!
If thou remember’st not the slightest folly
That ever love did make thee run into,
Thou hast not loved:
034 Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,
035 Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress’ praise,
Thou hast not loved:
Or if thou hast not broke from company
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,
Thou hast not loved.
040 O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe! [Exit.
041 Ros. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound,
I have by hard adventure found mine own.
Touch. And I mine. I remember, when I was in love I broke my sword upon a stone and bid him take that for 045 coming a-night to Jane Smile: and I remember the kissing 046 of her batlet and the cow’s dugs that her pretty chopt hands had milked: and I remember the wooing of a peascod 048 instead of her; from whom I took two cods and, giving her them again, said with weeping tears ‘Wear these for my 050 sake.’ We that are true lovers run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.
Ros. Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of.
Touch. Nay, I shall ne’er be ware of mine own wit till
055 I break my shins against it.
056 Ros. Jove, Jove! this shepherd’s passion
057 Is much upon my fashion.
058 Touch. And mine; but it grows something stale with me.
059 Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond man
060 If he for gold will give us any food:
I faint almost to death.
Holla, you clown!
Ros. Peace, fool: he’s not thy kinsman.
Who calls?
Touch. Your betters, sir.
063 Else are they very wretched.
064 Ros. Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend.
065 Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all.
Ros. I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold
Can in this desert place buy entertainment,
Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed:
Here’s a young maid with travel much oppress’d
And faints for succour.
070 Fair sir, I pity her
And wish, for her sake more than for mine own,
My fortunes were more able to relieve her;
073 But I am shepherd to another man
And do not shear the fleeces that I graze:
075 My master is of churlish disposition
076 And little recks to find the way to heaven
By doing deeds of hospitality:
078 Besides, his cote, his flocks and bounds of feed
Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now,
080 By reason of his absence, there is nothing
That you will feed on; but what is, come see,
And in my voice most welcome shall you be.
Ros. What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture?
Cor. That young swain that you saw here but erewhile,
085 That little cares for buying any thing.
Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,
Buy thou the cottage, pasture and the flock,
And thou shalt have to pay for it of us.
089 Cel. And we will mend thy wages. I like this place,
090 And willingly could waste my time in it.
Cor. Assuredly the thing is to be sold:
Go with me: if you like upon report
The soil, the profit and this kind of life,
094 I will your very faithful feeder be
095 And buy it with your gold right suddenly. [Exeunt.
001 Ami.
Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me,
003 And turn his merry note
Unto the sweet bird’s throat,
005 Come hither, come hither, come hither:
006 Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.
Jaq. More, more, I prithee, more.
010 Ami. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques.
011 Jaq. I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs. More, I prithee, more.
014 Ami. My voice is ragged: I know I cannot please you.
015 Jaq. I do not desire you to please me; I do desire you to 016 sing. Come, more; another stanzo: call you ’em stanzos?
Ami. What you will, Monsieur Jaques.
018 Jaq. Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me nothing. Will you sing?
020 Ami. More at your request than to please myself.
Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I’ll thank 022 you; but that they call compliment is like the encounter of two dog-apes, and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks I have given him a penny and he renders me the 025 beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you that will not, hold your tongues.
Ami. Well, I’ll end the song. Sirs, cover the while; 028 the Duke will drink under this tree. He hath been all this day to look you.
030 Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too disputable for my company: I think of as many matters as he; but I give heaven thanks, and make no boast of them. Come, warble, come.
034 Who doth ambition shun, [All together here.
035 And loves to live i’ the sun,
Seeking the food he eats,
And pleased with what he gets,
Come hither, come hither, come hither:
039 Here shall he see
040 No enemy
But winter and rough weather.
Jaq. I’ll give you a verse to this note, that I made yesterday in despite of my invention.
044 Ami. And I’ll sing it.
045 Jaq. Thus it goes:—
If it do come to pass
That any man turn ass,
Leaving his wealth and ease
A stubborn will to please,
050 Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame:
Here shall he see
Gross fools as he,
053 An if he will come to me.
Ami. What’s that ‘ducdame’?
055 Jaq. ’Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle. I’ll go sleep, if I can; if I cannot, I’ll rail against all the first-born of Egypt.
Ami. And I’ll go seek the Duke: his banquet is prepared. [Exeunt severally.
001 Adam. Dear master, I can go no further: O, I die for food! Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master.
004 Orl. Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in thee? 005 Live a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little. If this uncouth forest yield any thing savage, I will either be food for it or bring it for food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer 008 death than thy powers. For my sake be comfortable; hold 009 death awhile at the arm’s end: I will here be with thee 010 presently; and if I bring thee not something to eat, I will give thee leave to die: but if thou diest before I come, thou art 012 a mocker of my labour. Well said! thou lookest cheerly, and I’ll be with thee quickly. Yet thou liest in the bleak air: come, I will bear thee to some shelter; and thou shalt 015 not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam! [Exeunt.
Duke S. I think he be transform’d into a beast;
For I can no where find him like a man.
First Lord. My lord, he is but even now gone hence:
Here was he merry, hearing of a song.
005 Duke S. If he, compact of jars, grow musical,
We shall have shortly discord in the spheres.
Go, seek him: tell him I would speak with him.
First Lord. He saves my labour by his own approach.
Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this,
010 That your poor friends must woo your company?
What, you look merrily!
Jaq. A fool, a fool! I met a fool i’ the forest,
013 A motley fool; a miserable world!
As I do live by food, I met a fool;
015 Who laid him down and bask’d him in the sun,
And rail’d on Lady Fortune in good terms,
In good set terms, and yet a motley fool.
‘Good morrow, fool,’ quoth I. ‘No, sir,’ quoth he,
‘Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune:’
020 And then he drew a dial from his poke,
And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says very wisely, ‘It is ten o’clock:
Thus we may see,’ quoth he, ‘how the world wags:
’Tis but an hour ago since it was nine;
025 And after one hour more ’twill be eleven;
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;
And thereby hangs a tale.’ When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
030 My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
031 That fools should be so deep-contemplative;
And I did laugh sans intermission
An hour by his dial. O noble fool!
034 A worthy fool! Motley’s the only wear.
035 Duke S. What fool is this?
Jaq. O worthy fool! One that hath been a courtier,
And says, if ladies be but young and fair,
They have the gift to know it: and in his brain,
Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit
040 After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm’d
With observation, the which he vents
In mangled forms. O that I were a fool!
I am ambitious for a motley coat.
Duke S. Thou shalt have one.
It is my only suit;
045 Provided that you weed your better judgements
Of all opinion that grows rank in them
That I am wise. I must have liberty
Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
To blow on whom I please; for so fools have;
050 And they that are most galled with my folly,
They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so?
The ‘why’ is plain as way to parish church:
053 He that a fool doth very wisely hit
054 Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
055 Not to seem senseless of the bob: if not,
056 The wise man’s folly is anatomized
Even by the squandering glances of the fool.
Invest me in my motley; give me leave
To speak my mind, and I will through and through
060 Cleanse the foul body of the infected world,
If they will patiently receive my medicine.
Duke S. Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do.
Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do but good?
064 Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin:
065 For thou thyself hast been a libertine,
066 As sensual as the brutish sting itself;
And all the embossed sores and headed evils,
That thou with license of free foot hast caught,
Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world.
070 Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride,
That can therein tax any private party?
Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea,
073 Till that the weary very means do ebb?
What woman in the city do I name,
075 When that I say the city-woman bears
The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders?
Who can come in and say that I mean her,
When such a one as she such is her neighbour?
Or what is he of basest function,
080 That says his bravery is not of my cost,
Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits
His folly to the mettle of my speech?
083 There then; how then? what then? Let me see wherein
My tongue hath wrong’d him: if it do him right,
085 Then he hath wrong’d himself; if he be free,
Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies,
087 Unclaim’d of any man. But who comes here?
Orl. Forbear, and eat no more.
Why, I have eat none yet.
Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be served.
090 Jaq. Of what kind should this cock come of?
Duke S. Art thou thus bolden’d, man, by thy distress,
Or else a rude despiser of good manners,
That in civility thou seem’st so empty?
Orl. You touch’d my vein at first: the thorny point
095 Of bare distress hath ta’en from me the show
Of smooth civility: yet am I inland bred
And know some nurture. But forbear, I say:
He dies that touches any of this fruit
Till I and my affairs are answered.
100 Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason, I must die.
102 Duke S. What would you have? Your gentleness shall force,
More than your force move us to gentleness.
Orl. I almost die for food; and let me have it.
105 Duke S. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table.
Orl. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you:
I thought that all things had been savage here;
And therefore put I on the countenance
109 Of stern commandment. But whate’er you are
110 That in this desert inaccessible,
Under the shade of melancholy boughs,
Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time;
If ever you have look’d on better days,
If ever been where bells have knoll’d to church,
115 If ever sat at any good man’s feast,
If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear
And know what ’tis to pity and be pitied,
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be:
119 In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword.
120 Duke S. True is it that we have seen better days,
And have with holy bell been knoll’d to church
And sat at good men’s feasts and wiped our eyes
Of drops that sacred pity hath engender’d:
And therefore sit you down in gentleness
125 And take upon command what help we have
That to your wanting may be minister’d.
Orl. Then but forbear your food a little while,
Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn
And give it food. There is an old poor man,
130 Who after me hath many a weary step
Limp’d in pure love: till he be first sufficed,
132 Oppress’d with two weak evils, age and hunger,
I will not touch a bit.
Go find him out,
And we will nothing waste till you return.
135 Orl. I thank ye; and be blest for your good comfort! [Exit.
Duke S. Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy:
This wide and universal theatre
Presents more woeful pageants than the scene
139 Wherein we play in.
All the world’s a stage,
140 And all the men and women merely players:
141 They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
143 His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
145 Then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
150 Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
155 With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
160 His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
161 For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
165 Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.
167 Duke S. Welcome. Set down your venerable burthen,
And let him feed.
Orl. I thank you most for him.
So had you need:
170 I scarce can speak to thank you for myself.
Duke S. Welcome; fall to: I will not trouble you
As yet, to question you about your fortunes.
Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing.
174 Ami.
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
175 Thou art not so unkind
As man’s ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
178 Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
180 Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
182 Then, heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.
184 Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky
185 That dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
189 As friend remember’d not.
190 Heigh-ho! sing, &c.
Duke S. If that you were the good Sir Rowland’s son,
As you have whisper’d faithfully you were,
And as mine eye doth his effigies witness
Most truly limn’d and living in your face,
195 Be truly welcome hither: I am the Duke
That loved your father: the residue of your fortune,
Go to my cave and tell me. Good old man,
198 Thou art right welcome as thy master is.
Support him by the arm. Give me your hand,
200 And let me all your fortunes understand. [Exeunt.
001 Duke F. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be:
But were I not the better part made mercy,
003 I should not seek an absent argument
Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it:
005 Find out thy brother, wheresoe’er he is;
Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living
Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more
To seek a living in our territory.
Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine
010 Worth seizure do we seize into our hands,
Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother’s mouth
Of what we think against thee.
Oli. O that your Highness knew my heart in this!
I never loved my brother in my life.
015 Duke F. More villain thou. Well, push him out of doors;
And let my officers of such a nature
Make an extent upon his house and lands:
Do this expediently and turn him going. [Exeunt.
Orl.
Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love:
And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey
With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above,
Thy huntress’ name that my full life doth sway.
005 O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books
And in their barks my thoughts I’ll character;
That every eye which in this forest looks
Shall see thy virtue witness’d every where.
Run, run, Orlando; carve on every tree
010 The fair, the chaste and unexpressive she. [Exit.
011 Cor. And how like you this shepherd’s life, Master Touchstone?
Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd’s life, it is naught. 015 In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now, in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well; but as there is no more 020 plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd?
Cor. No more but that I know the more one sickens the worse at ease he is; and that he that wants money, means and content is without three good friends; that the property 025 of rain is to wet and fire to burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep, and that a great cause of the night is lack of the sun; that he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art may 028 complain of good breeding or comes of a very dull kindred.
Touch. Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever 030 in court, shepherd?
Cor. No, truly.
Touch. Then thou art damned.
033 Cor. Nay, I hope.
Touch. Truly, thou art damned like an ill-roasted egg, 035 all on one side.
Cor. For not being at court? Your reason.
Touch. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never sawest good manners; if thou never sawest good manners, then thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is sin, 040 and sin is damnation. Thou art in a parlous state, shepherd.
041 Cor. Not a whit, Touchstone: those that are good manners at the court are as ridiculous in the country as the behaviour of the country is most mockable at the court. You told me you salute not at the court, but you kiss your hands: 045 that courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were shepherds.
Touch. Instance, briefly; come, instance.
Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes, and their fells, you know, are greasy.
Touch. Why, do not your courtier’s hands sweat? and 050 is not the grease of a mutton as wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow. A better instance, I say; come.
Cor. Besides, our hands are hard.
Touch. Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow 054 again. A more sounder instance, come.
055 Cor. And they are often tarred over with the surgery of 056 our sheep; and would you have us kiss tar? The courtier’s hands are perfumed with civet.
Touch. Most shallow man! thou worms-meat, in respect 059 of a good piece of flesh indeed! Learn of the wise, and 060 perpend: civet is of a baser birth than tar, the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd.
Cor. You have too courtly a wit for me: I ’ll rest.
Touch. Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee, shallow man! God make incision in thee! thou art raw.
065 Cor. Sir, I am a true labourer: I earn that I eat, get that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man’s happiness, glad of other men’s good, content with my harm, and the greatest of my pride is to see my ewes graze and my lambs suck.
Touch. That is another simple sin in you, to bring the 070 ewes and the rams together and to offer to get your living 071 by the copulation of cattle; to be bawd to a bell-wether, and to betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth to a crooked-pated, old, cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable match. If thou beest not damned for this, the devil himself will have 075 no shepherds; I cannot see else how thou shouldst ’scape.
076 Cor. Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new 077 mistress’s brother.
Ros.
078 From the east to western Ind,
No jewel is like Rosalind.
080 Her worth, being mounted on the wind,
Through all the world bears Rosalind.
082 All the pictures fairest lined
Are but black to Rosalind.
084 Let no face be kept in mind
085 But the fair of Rosalind.
Touch. I’ll rhyme you so eight years together, dinners and suppers and sleeping-hours excepted: it is the right 088 butter-women’s rank to market.
Ros. Out, fool!
090 Touch. For a taste:
If a hart do lack a hind,
Let him seek out Rosalind.
If the cat will after kind,
So be sure will Rosalind.
095 Winter garments must be lined,
So must slender Rosalind.
They that reap must sheaf and bind;
Then to cart with Rosalind.
099 Sweetest nut hath sourest rind,
100 Such a nut is Rosalind.
He that sweetest rose will find,
Must find love’s prick and Rosalind.
This is the very false gallop of verses: why do you infect yourself with them?
105 Ros. Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree.
Touch. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.
Ros. I’ll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a medlar: then it will be the earliest fruit i’ the country; for you’ll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that’s the 110 right virtue of the medlar.
Touch. You have said; but whether wisely or no, let 112 the forest judge.
113 Ros. Peace!
Here comes my sister, reading: stand aside.
Cel. [reads]
115 Why should this a desert be?
For it is unpeopled? No;
Tongues I’ll hang on every tree,
That shall civil sayings show:
Some, how brief the life of man
120 Runs his erring pilgrimage,
That the stretching of a span
Buckles in his sum of age;
Some, of violated vows
’Twixt the souls of friend and friend:
125 But upon the fairest boughs,
Or at every sentence end,
Will I Rosalinda write,
Teaching all that read to know
129 The quintessence of every sprite
130 Heaven would in little show.
131 Therefore Heaven Nature charged
That one body should be fill’d
With all graces wide-enlarged:
Nature presently distill’d
135 Helen’s cheek, but not her heart,
Cleopatra’s majesty,
Atalanta’s better part,
Sad Lucretia’s modesty.
Thus Rosalind of many parts
140 By heavenly synod was devised;
Of many faces, eyes and hearts,
To have the touches dearest prized.
Heaven would that she these gifts should have,
And I to live and die her slave.
145 Ros. O most gentle pulpiter! what tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never 147 cried ‘Have patience, good people’!
148 Cel. How now! back, friends! Shepherd, go off a little. Go with him, sirrah.
150 Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip 152 and scrippage. [Exeunt Corin and Touchstone.
153 Cel. Didst thou hear these verses?
Ros. O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some 155 of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear.
Cel. That’s no matter: the feet might bear the verses.
Ros. Ay, but the feet were lame and could not bear themselves without the verse and therefore stood lamely in the verse.
160 Cel. But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name should be hanged and carved upon these trees?
162 Ros. I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder 163 before you came; for look here what I found on a palm-tree. 164 I was never so be-rhymed since Pythagoras’ time, 165 that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember.
Cel. Trow you who hath done this?
Ros. Is it a man?
168 Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck. 169 Change you colour?
170 Ros. I prithee, who?
Cel. O Lord, Lord! it is a hard matter for friends to meet; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes and so encounter.
Ros. Nay, but who is it?
175 Cel. Is it possible?
Ros. Nay, I prithee now with most petitionary vehemence, 177 tell me who it is.
Cel. O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and after that, out of all 180 hooping!
181 Ros. Good my complexion! dost thou think, though I 182 am caparisoned like a man, I have a doublet and hose in 183 my disposition? One inch of delay more is a South-sea of 184 discovery; I prithee, tell me who is it quickly, and speak 185 apace. I would thou couldst stammer, that thou mightst pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a narrow-mouthed bottle, either too much at once, or none at all. I prithee, take the cork out of thy mouth that I may drink thy tidings.
190 Cel. So you may put a man in your belly.
Ros. Is he of God’s making? What manner of man? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard?
Cel. Nay, he hath but a little beard.
Ros. Why, God will send more, if the man will be 195 thankful: let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin.
Cel. It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler’s heels and your heart both in an instant.
Ros. Nay, but the devil take mocking: speak, sad 200 brow and true maid.
Cel. I’ faith, coz, ’tis he.
Ros. Orlando?
Cel. Orlando.
Ros. Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet 205 and hose? What did he when thou sawest him? What said he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What makes he here? Did he ask for me? Where remains he? How parted he with thee? and when shalt thou see him again? Answer me in one word.
210 Cel. You must borrow me Gargantua’s mouth first: ’tis a word too great for any mouth of this age’s size. To say 212 ay and no to these particulars is more than to answer in a catechism.
Ros. But doth he know that I am in this forest and in 215 man’s apparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the day he 216 wrestled?
217 Cel. It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the propositions of a lover; but take a taste of my finding him, 219 and relish it with good observance. I found him under a 220 tree, like a dropped acorn.
221 Ros. It may well be called Jove’s tree, when it drops forth such fruit.
Cel. Give me audience, good madam.
Ros. Proceed.
225 Cel. There lay he, stretched along, like a wounded knight.
Ros. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground.
229 Cel. Cry ‘holla’ to thy tongue, I prithee; it curvets 230 unseasonably. He was furnished like a hunter.
231 Ros. O, ominous! he comes to kill my heart.
Cel. I would sing my song without a burden: thou bringest me out of tune.
Ros. Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, 235 I must speak. Sweet, say on.
236 Cel. You bring me out. Soft! comes he not here?
Ros. Tis he: slink by, and note him.
Jaq. I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone.
240 Orl. And so had I; but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you too for your society.
242 Jaq. God buy you: let’s meet as little as we can.
Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers.
Jaq. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing love-songs 245 in their barks.
246 Orl. I pray you, mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly.
Jaq. Rosalind is your love’s name?
Orl. Yes, just.
250 Jaq. I do not like her name.
Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened.
Jaq. What stature is she of?
Orl. Just as high as my heart.
255 Jaq. You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths’ wives, and conned them out of rings?
258 Orl. Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth, 259 from whence you have studied your questions.
260 Jaq. You have a nimble wit: I think ’twas made of Atalanta’s heels. Will you sit down with me? and we two will rail against our mistress the world, and all our misery.
Orl. I will chide no breather in the world but myself, 264 against whom I know most faults.
265 Jaq. The worst fault you have is to be in love.
Orl. ’Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you.
Jaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found you.
270 Orl. He is drowned in the brook: look but in, and you shall see him.
Jaq. There I shall see mine own figure.
Orl. Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher.
Jaq. I’ll tarry no longer with you: farewell, good 275 Signior Love.
276 Orl. I am glad of your departure: adieu, good 277 Monsieur Melancholy. [Exit Jaques.
Ros. [Aside to Celia] I will speak to him like a saucy lackey, and under that habit play the knave with him. Do 280 you hear, forester?
Orl. Very well: what would you?
Ros. I pray you, what is’t o’clock?
Orl. You should ask me what time o’ day: there’s no clock in the forest.
285 Ros. Then there is no true lover in the forest; else sighing every minute and groaning every hour would detect the lazy foot of Time as well as a clock.
Orl. And why not the swift foot of Time? had not that been as proper?
290 Ros. By no means, sir: Time travels in divers paces with divers persons. I’ll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal and who he stands still withal.
294 Orl. I prithee, who doth he trot withal?
295 Ros. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the contract of her marriage and the day it is solemnized: 297 if the interim be but a se’nnight, Time’s pace is so hard 298 that it seems the length of seven year.
299 Orl. Who ambles Time withal?
300 Ros. With a priest that lacks Latin, and a rich man that hath not the gout; for the one sleeps easily because he cannot study, and the other lives merrily because he feels no pain; the one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning, the other knowing no burden of heavy tedious 305 penury: these Time ambles withal.
306 Orl. Who doth he gallop withal?
Ros. With a thief to the gallows; for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there.
309 Orl. Who stays it still withal?
310 Ros. With lawyers in the vacation; for they sleep between term and term and then they perceive not how Time moves.
Orl. Where dwell you, pretty youth?
Ros. With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the skirts 315 of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat.
Orl. Are you native of this place?
317 Ros. As the cony that you see dwell where she is kindled.
Orl. Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so removed a dwelling.
320 Ros. I have been told so of many: but indeed an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, who was in his youth an inland man; one that knew courtship too well, for 323 there he fell in love. I have heard him read many lectures 324 against it, and I thank God I am not a woman, to be 325 touched with so many giddy offences as he hath generally taxed their whole sex withal.
Orl. Can you remember any of the principal evils that he laid to the charge of women?
Ros. There were none principal; they were all like 330 one another as half-pence are, every one fault seeming 331 monstrous till his fellow-fault came to match it.
Orl. I prithee, recount some of them.
Ros. No, I will not cast away my physic but on those that are sick. There is a man haunts the forest, that abuses 335 our young plants with carving Rosalind on their barks; hangs odes upon hawthorns and elegies on brambles; all, 337 forsooth, deifying the name of Rosalind: if I could meet that fancy-monger, I would give him some good counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love upon him.
340 Orl. I am he that is so love-shaked: I pray you, tell me your remedy.
Ros. There is none of my uncle’s marks upon you: he taught me how to know a man in love; in which cage of 344 rushes I am sure you are not prisoner.
345 Orl. What were his marks?
346 Ros. A lean cheek, which you have not; a blue eye and sunken, which you have not; an unquestionable spirit, which you have not; a beard neglected, which you have 349 not; but I pardon you for that, for simply your having in 350 beard is a younger brother’s revenue: then your hose should be ungartered, your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied and every thing about you demonstrating a careless desolation; but you are no such man; 354 you are rather point-device in your accoutrements as loving 355 yourself than seeming the lover of any other.
Orl. Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love.
Ros. Me believe it! you may as soon make her that you love believe it; which, I warrant, she is apter to do 360 than to confess she does: that is one of the points in the which women still give the lie to their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Rosalind is so admired?
Orl. I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of 365 Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he.
Ros. But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak?
Orl. Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much.
Ros. Love is merely a madness; and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do: and 370 the reason why they are not so punished and cured is, that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers are in love too. Yet I profess curing it by counsel.
Orl. Did you ever cure any so?
Ros. Yes, one, and in this manner. He was to imagine 375 me his love, his mistress; and I set him every day to woo me: at which time would I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing and liking; proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles; for every passion something and for no 380 passion truly any thing, as boys and women are for the most part cattle of this colour: would now like him, now loathe him; then entertain him, then forswear him; now weep for him, then spit at him; that I drave my suitor from 384 his mad humour of love to a living humour of madness; 385 which was, to forswear the full stream of the world and to live in a nook merely monastic. And thus I cured him; and this way will I take upon me to wash your liver as 388 clean as a sound sheep’s heart, that there shall not be one spot of love in’t.
390 Orl. I would not be cured, youth.
Ros. I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind and come every day to my cote and woo me.
Orl. Now, by the faith of my love, I will: tell me where it is.
395 Ros. Go with me to it and I’ll show it you: and by the way you shall tell me where in the forest you live. Will you go?
Orl. With all my heart, good youth.
Ros. Nay, you must call me Rosalind. Come, sister, 400 will you go? [Exeunt.
Touch. Come apace, good Audrey: I will fetch up your 002 goats, Audrey. And how, Audrey? am I the man yet? doth my simple feature content you?
004 Aud. Your features! Lord warrant us! what features?
005 Touch. I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths.
Jaq. [Aside] O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than Jove in a thatched house!
Touch. When a man’s verses cannot be understood, nor 010 a man’s good wit seconded with the forward child, understanding, 011 it strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room. Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical.
Aud. I do not know what ‘poetical’ is: is it honest in 015 deed and word? is it a true thing?
Touch. No, truly; for the truest poetry is the most 017 feigning; and lovers are given to poetry, and what they 018 swear in poetry may be said as lovers they do feign.
Aud. Do you wish then that the gods had made me 020 poetical?
Touch. I do, truly; for thou swearest to me thou art honest: now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some hope thou didst feign.
Aud. Would you not have me honest?
025 Touch. No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favoured; for honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar.
Jaq. [Aside] A material fool!
Aud. Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray the gods make me honest.
030 Touch. Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut were to put good meat into an unclean dish.
032 Aud. I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul.
Touch. Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness! sluttishness 035 may come hereafter. But be it as it may be, I will marry thee, and to that end I have been with Sir Oliver Martext the vicar of the next village, who hath promised to meet me in this place of the forest and to couple us.
Jaq. [Aside] I would fain see this meeting.
040 Aud. Well, the gods give us joy!
041 Touch. Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart, stagger in this attempt; for here we have no temple but 043 the wood, no assembly but horn-beasts. But what though? Courage! As horns are odious, they are necessary. It is 045 said, ‘many a man knows no end of his goods:’ right; many a man has good horns, and knows no end of them. Well, that is the dowry of his wife; ’tis none of his own 048 getting. Horns?—even so:—poor men alone? No, no; the noblest deer hath them as huge as the rascal. Is the single 050 man therefore blessed? No: as a walled town is more worthier than a village, so is the forehead of a married man more honourable than the bare brow of a bachelor; and by how much defence is better than no skill, by so much is a horn more precious than to want. Here comes Sir Oliver.
055 Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met: will you dispatch us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel?
Sir Oli. Is there none here to give the woman?
Touch. I will not take her on gift of any man.
Sir Oli. Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is 060 not lawful.
Jaq. Proceed, proceed: I’ll give her.
062 Touch. Good even, good Master What-ye-call’t: how 063 do you, sir? You are very well met: God ’ild you for your last company: I am very glad to see you: even a toy in 065 hand here, sir: nay, pray be covered.
Jaq. Will you be married, motley?
067 Touch. As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his curb 068 and the falcon her bells, so man hath his desires; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be nibbling.
070 Jaq. And will you, being a man of your breeding, be married under a bush like a beggar? Get you to church, and have a good priest that can tell you what marriage is: this fellow will but join you together as they join wainscot; then one of you will prove a shrunk panel, and like green 075 timber warp, warp.
Touch. [Aside] I am not in the mind but I were better to be married of him than of another: for he is not like to marry me well; and not being well married, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife.
080 Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee.
Touch. Come, sweet Audrey:
We must be married, or we must live in bawdry.
083 Farewell, good Master Oliver: not,—
087 but,—
088 Wind away,
Begone, I say,
090 I will not to wedding with thee. [Exeunt Jaques, Touchstone and Audrey.
Sir Oli. ’Tis no matter: ne’er a fantastical knave of them all shall flout me out of my calling. [Exit.
Ros. Never talk to me; I will weep.
Cel. Do, I prithee; but yet have the grace to consider that tears do not become a man.
Ros. But have I not cause to weep?
005 Cel. As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep.
Ros. His very hair is of the dissembling colour.
Cel. Something browner than Judas’s: marry, his kisses are Judas’s own children.
Ros. I’ faith, his hair is of a good colour.
010 Cel. An excellent colour: your chestnut was ever the only colour.
012 Ros. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch 013 of holy bread.
014 Cel. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana: a nun of winter’s sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the 015 very ice of chastity is in them.
Ros. But why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not?
Cel. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him.
020 Ros. Do you think so?
Cel. Yes; I think he is not a pick-purse nor a horse-stealer, but for his verity in love, I do think him as concave as a covered goblet or a worm-eaten nut.
Ros. Not true in love?
025 Cel. Yes, when he is in; but I think he is not in.
Ros. You have heard him swear downright he was.
027 Cel. ‘Was’ is not ‘is:’ besides, the oath of a lover is no stronger than the word of a tapster; they are both the 029 confirmer of false reckonings. He attends here in the forest 030 on the Duke your father.
Ros. I met the Duke yesterday and had much question with him: he asked me of what parentage I was; I told him, of as good as he; so he laughed and let me go. But what talk we of fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando?
035 Cel. O, that’s a brave man! he writes brave verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of his lover; as a 038 puisny tilter, that spurs his horse but on one side, breaks 039 his staff like a noble goose: but all’s brave that youth 040 mounts and folly guides. Who comes here?
Cor. Mistress and master, you have oft inquired
After the shepherd that complain’d of love,
043 Who you saw sitting by me on the turf,
Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess
That was his mistress.
045 Well, and what of him?
Cor. If you will see a pageant truly play’d,
Between the pale complexion of true love
And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain.
Go hence a little and I shall conduct you.
If you will mark it.
050 O, come, let us remove:
The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.
052 Bring us to this sight, and you shall say
I ’ll prove a busy actor in their play. [Exeunt.
001 Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe;
Say that you love me not, but say not so
In bitterness. The common executioner,
Whose heart the accustom’d sight of death makes hard,
005 Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck
But first begs pardon: will you sterner be
007 Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops?
Phe. I would not be thy executioner:
I fly thee, for I would not injure thee.
010 Thou tell’st me there is murder in mine eye:
011 ’Tis pretty, sure, and very probable,
That eyes, that are the frail’st and softest things,
Who shut their coward gates on atomies,
Should be call’d tyrants, butchers, murderers!
015 Now I do frown on thee with all my heart;
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee:
017 Now counterfeit to swoon; why now fall down;
Or if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame,
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers!
020 Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee:
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains
022 Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush,
023 The cicatrice and capable impressure
Thy palm some moment keeps; but now mine eyes,
025 Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not,
026 Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes
That can do hurt.
027 O dear Phebe,
If ever,—as that ever may be near,—
029 You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy.
030 Then shall you know the wounds invisible
That love’s keen arrows make.
But till that time
Come not thou near me: and when that time comes,
Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not;
As till that time I shall not pity thee.
035 Ros. And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,
036 That you insult, exult, and all at once,
037 Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty,—
As, by my faith, I see no more in you
Than without candle may go dark to bed,—
040 Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?
Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you than in the ordinary
Of nature’s sale-work. ’Od’s my little life,
044 I think she means to tangle my eyes too!
045 No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it:
046 ’Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream,
048 That can entame my spirits to your worship.
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her,
050 Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman: ’tis such fools as you
053 That makes the world full of ill-favoured children:
054 ’Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her;
055 And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can show her.
But, mistress, know yourself: down on your knees,
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man’s love:
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
060 Sell when you can: you are not for all markets:
Cry the man mercy; love him; take his offer:
062 Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.
So take her to thee, shepherd: fare you well.
Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year together:
065 I had rather hear you chide than this man woo.
066 Ros. He’s fallen in love with your foulness and she’ll fall in love with my anger. If it be so, as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, I’ll sauce her with bitter words. Why look you so upon me?
070 Phe. For no ill will I bear you.
Ros. I pray you, do not fall in love with me,
For I am falser than vows made in wine:
Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house,
’Tis at the tuft of olives here hard by.
075 Will you go, sister? Shepherd, ply her hard.
Come, sister. Shepherdess, look on him better,
And be not proud: though all the world could see,
None could be so abused in sight as he.
079 Come, to our flock. [Exeunt Rosalind, Celia and Corin.
080 Phe. Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might,
‘Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?’
Sil. Sweet Phebe,—
Ha, what say’st thou, Silvius?
Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me.
Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius.
085 Sil. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be:
If you do sorrow at my grief in love,
By giving love your sorrow and my grief
Were both extermined.
Phe. Thou hast my love: is not that neighbourly?
Sil. I would have you.
090 Why, that were covetousness.
Silvius, the time was that I hated thee,
And yet it is not that I bear thee love;
But since that thou canst talk of love so well,
Thy company, which erst was irksome to me,
095 I will endure, and I ’ll employ thee too:
But do not look for further recompense
Than thine own gladness that thou art employ’d.
Sil. So holy and so perfect is my love,
099 And I in such a poverty of grace,
100 That I shall think it a most plenteous crop
To glean the broken ears after the man
102 That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then
A scatter’d smile, and that I’ll live upon.
104 Phe. Know’st thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile?
105 Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft;
And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds
107 That the old carlot once was master of.
Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for him;
’Tis but a peevish boy; yet he talks well;
110 But what care I for words? yet words do well
When he that speaks them pleases those that hear.
It is a pretty youth: not very pretty:
But, sure, he’s proud, and yet his pride becomes him:
He’ll make a proper man: the best thing in him
115 Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue
Did make offence his eye did heal it up.
117 He is not very tall; yet for his years he’s tall:
His leg is but so so; and yet ’tis well:
There was a pretty redness in his lip,
120 A little riper and more lusty red
Than that mix’d in his cheek; ’twas just the difference
Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask.
There be some women, Silvius, had they mark’d him
In parcels as I did, would have gone near
125 To fall in love with him: but, for my part,
I love him not nor hate him not; and yet
127 I have more cause to hate him than to love him:
For what had he to do to chide at me?
He said mine eyes were black and my hair black;
130 And, now I am remember’d, scorn’d at me:
I marvel why I answer’d not again:
But that’s all one; omittance is no quittance.
I’ll write to him a very taunting letter,
And thou shalt bear it: wilt thou, Silvius?
Sil. Phebe, with all my heart.
135 I’ll write it straight;
The matter’s in my head and in my heart:
137 I will be bitter with him and passing short.
Go with me, Silvius. [Exeunt.
001 Jaq. I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee.
Ros. They say you are a melancholy fellow.
Jaq. I am so; I do love it better than laughing.
005 Ros. Those that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows, and betray themselves to every modern censure worse than drunkards.
Jaq. Why, ’tis good to be sad and say nothing.
Ros. Why then, ’tis good to be a post.
010 Jaq. I have neither the scholar’s melancholy, which is emulation; nor the musician’s, which is fantastical; nor the courtier’s, which is proud; nor the soldier’s, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer’s, which is politic; nor the lady’s, which is nice; nor the lover’s, which is all these: but it is a 015 melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects; and indeed the sundry contemplation 017 of my travels, in which my often rumination 018 wraps me in a most humorous sadness.
Ros. A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason 020 to be sad: I fear you have sold your own lands to see other men’s; then, to have seen much, and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands.
023 Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience.
Ros. And your experience makes you sad: I had rather 025 have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me 026 sad; and to travel for it too!
Orl. Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind!
028 Jaq. Nay, then, God buy you, an you talk in blank 029 verse. [Exit.
030 Ros. Farewell, Monsieur Traveller: look you lisp and wear strange suits; disable all the benefits of your own country; be out of love with your nativity and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are; or I 034 will scarce think you have swam in a gondola. Why, how 035 now, Orlando! where have you been all this while? You a lover! An you serve me such another trick, never come in my sight more.
Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.
040 Ros. Break an hour’s promise in love! He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and break but a part 042 of the thousandth part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapped him o’ the shoulder, but I ’ll warrant him heart-whole.
045 Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind.
Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight: I had as lief be wooed of a snail.
Orl. Of a snail?
Ros. Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he carries 050 his house on his head; a better jointure, I think, than 051 you make a woman: besides, he brings his destiny with him.
Orl. What’s that?
Ros. Why, horns, which such as you are fain to be 054 beholding to your wives for: but he comes armed in his 055 fortune and prevents the slander of his wife.
Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is virtuous.
Ros. And I am your Rosalind.
Cel. It pleases him to call you so; but he hath a Rosalind 060 of a better leer than you.
Ros. Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a holiday humour and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now, an I were your very very Rosalind?
Orl. I would kiss before I spoke.
065 Ros. Nay, you were better speak first; and when you were gravelled for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will 068 spit; and for lovers lacking,—God warn us!—matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss.
070 Orl. How if the kiss be denied?
Ros. Then she puts you to entreaty and there begins new matter.
Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress?
Ros. Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress, 075 or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit.
076 Orl. What, of my suit?
Ros. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am not I your Rosalind?
Orl. I take some joy to say you are, because I would 080 be talking of her.
Ros. Well in her person I say I will not have you.
082 Orl. Then in mine own person I die.
Ros. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is almost six thousand years old, and in all this time there 085 was not any man died in his own person, videlicet, in a 086 love-cause. Troilus had his brains dashed out with a Grecian club; yet he did what he could to die before, and he is one of the patterns of love. Leander, he would have lived many a fair year, though Hero had turned nun, if it 090 had not been for a hot midsummer night; for, good youth, 091 he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont and being taken with the cramp was drowned: and the foolish 093 chroniclers of that age found it was ‘Hero of Sestos.’ But these are all lies: men have died from time to time and 095 worms have eaten them, but not for love.
Orl. I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind; for, I protest, her frown might kill me.
Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come, now I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on disposition, 100 and ask me what you will, I will grant it.
Orl. Then love me, Rosalind.
Ros. Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all.
Orl. And wilt thou have me?
Ros. Ay, and twenty such.
105 Orl. What sayest thou?
Ros. Are you not good?
Orl. I hope so.
Ros. Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing? Come, sister, you shall be the priest and marry us. Give 110 me your hand, Orlando. What do you say, sister?
Orl. Pray thee, marry us.
Cel. I cannot say the words.
Ros. You must begin, ‘Will you, Orlando—’
Cel. Go to. Will you, Orlando, have to wife this 115 Rosalind?
Orl. I will.
117 Ros. Ay, but when?
Orl. Why now; as fast as she can marry us.
119 Ros. Then you must say ‘I take thee, Rosalind, for 120 wife.’
Orl. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.
122 Ros. I might ask you for your commission; but I do 123 take thee, Orlando, for my husband: there’s a girl goes 125 before the priest; and certainly a woman’s thought runs before her actions.
Orl. So do all thoughts; they are winged.
Ros. Now tell me how long you would have her after you have possessed her.
Orl. For ever and a day.
130 Ros. Say ‘a day,’ without the ‘ever’. No, no, Orlando; men are April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives. I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen, more clamorous than 135 a parrot against rain, more new-fangled than an ape, more giddy in my desires than a monkey: I will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when you are disposed to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and 139 that when thou art inclined to sleep.
140 Orl. But will my Rosalind do so?
Ros. By my life, she will do as I do.
Orl. O, but she is wise.
Ros. Or else she could not have the wit to do this: the 144 wiser, the waywarder: make the doors upon a woman’s wit 145 and it will out at the casement; shut that and ’twill out at 146 the key-hole; stop that, ’twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney.
Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might 149 say ‘Wit, whither wilt?’
150 Ros. Nay, you might keep that check for it till you met your wife’s wit going to your neighbour’s bed.
Orl. And what wit could wit have to excuse that?
Ros. Marry, to say she came to seek you there. You shall never take her without her answer, unless you take 155 her without her tongue. O, that woman that cannot make 156 her fault her husband’s occasion, let her never nurse her 157 child herself, for she will breed it like a fool!
Orl. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee.
Ros. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours!
160 Orl. I must attend the Duke at dinner: by two o’clock I will be with thee again.
Ros. Ay, go your ways, go your ways; I knew what you would prove: my friends told me as much, and I thought no less: that flattering tongue of yours won me: 165 ’tis but one cast away, and so, come, death! Two o’clock is your hour?
Orl. Ay, sweet Rosalind.
Ros. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous, 170 if you break one jot of your promise or come one minute 171 behind your hour, I will think you the most pathetical break-promise and the most hollow lover and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind that may be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful: therefore beware my 175 censure and keep your promise.
Orl. With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my Rosalind: so adieu.
Ros. Well, Time is the old justice that examines all 179 such offenders, and let Time try: adieu. [Exit Orlando.
180 Cel. You have simply misused our sex in your love-prate: we must have your doublet and hose plucked over your head, and show the world what the bird hath done to her own nest.
Ros. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in love! But it 185 cannot be sounded: my affection hath an unknown bottom, like the bay of Portugal.
Cel. Or rather, bottomless; that as fast as you pour 188 affection in, it runs out.
Ros. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus that was 190 begot of thought, conceived of spleen and born of madness, that blind rascally boy that abuses every one’s eyes because his own are out, let him be judge how deep I am 193 in love. I’ll tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight 194 of Orlando: I’ll go find a shadow and sigh till he come.
195 Cel. And I’ll sleep. [Exeunt.
Jaq. Which is he that killed the deer?
002 A Lord. Sir, it was I.
Jaq. Let’s present him to the Duke, like a Roman conqueror; and it would do well to set the deer’s horns upon 005 his head, for a branch of victory. Have you no song, forester, for this purpose?
007 For. Yes, sir.
Jaq. Sing it: ’tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise enough.
For.
010 What shall he have that kill’d the deer?
His leather skin and horns to wear.
012 Then sing him home: [The rest shall bear this burden.
013 Take thou no scorn to wear the horn;
It was a crest ere thou wast born:
015 Thy father’s father wore it,
016 And thy father bore it:
The horn, the horn, the lusty horn
Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. [Exeunt.
001 Ros. How say you now? Is it not past two o’clock? 002 and here much Orlando!
Cel. I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he hath ta’en his bow and arrows and is gone forth to 005 sleep. Look, who comes here.
Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth;
007 My gentle Phebe bid me give you this:
008 I know not the contents; but, as I guess
By the stern brow and waspish action
010 Which she did use as she was writing of it,
011 It bears an angry tenour: pardon me;
I am but as a guiltless messenger.
Ros. Patience herself would startle at this letter
And play the swaggerer; bear this, bear all:
015 She says I am not fair, that I lack manners;
She calls me proud, and that she could not love me,
Were man as rare as phœnix. ’Od’s my will!
018 Her love is not the hare that I do hunt:
Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well,
020 This is a letter of your own device.
Sil. No, I protest, I know not the contents:
022 Phebe did write it.
Come, come, you are a fool,
023 And turn’d into the extremity of love.
I saw her hand: she has a leathern hand,
025 A freestone-colour’d hand; I verily did think
026 That her old gloves were on, but ’twas her hands:
She has a huswife’s hand; but that’s no matter:
I say she never did invent this letter;
This is a man’s invention and his hand.
030 Sil. Sure, it is hers.
Ros. Why, ’tis a boisterous and a cruel style,
A style for challengers; why, she defies me,
033 Like Turk to Christian: women’s gentle brain
Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention,
035 Such Ethiope words, blacker in their effect
Than in their countenance. Will you hear the letter?
Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet;
Yet heard too much of Phebe’s cruelty.
Ros. She Phebes me: mark how the tyrant writes. [Reads.
040 Art thou god to shepherd turn’d,
That a maiden’s heart hath burn’d?
Can a woman rail thus?
Sil. Call you this railing?
Ros. [reads
Why, thy godhead laid apart,
045 Warr’st thou with a woman’s heart?
Did you ever hear such railing?
Whiles the eye of man did woo me,
That could do no vengeance to me.
Meaning me a beast.
050 If the scorn of your bright eyne
Have power to raise such love in mine,
Alack, in me what strange effect
Would they work in mild aspect!
054 Whiles you chid me, I did love;
055 How then might your prayers move!
He that brings this love to thee
057 Little knows this love in me:
And by him seal up thy mind;
Whether that thy youth and kind
060 Will the faithful offer take
Of me and all that I can make;
Or else by him my love deny,
And then I’ll study how to die.
Sil. Call you this chiding?
065 Cel. Alas, poor shepherd!
Ros. Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity. Wilt thou love such a woman? What, to make thee an instrument 068 and play false strains upon thee! not to be endured! Well, go your way to her, for I see love hath made thee a 070 tame snake, and say this to her: that if she love me, I charge her to love thee; if she will not, I will never have her unless thou entreat for her. If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word; for here comes more company. [Exit Silvius.
Oli. Good morrow, fair ones: pray you, if you know,
075 Where in the purlieus of this forest stands
A sheep-cote fenced about with olive-trees?
Cel. West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom:
The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream
079 Left on your right hand brings you to the place.
080 But at this hour the house doth keep itself;
There’s none within.
Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue,
Then should I know you by description;
Such garments and such years: ‘The boy is fair,
085 Of female favour, and bestows himself
086 Like a ripe sister: the woman low,
And browner than her brother.’ Are not you
088 The owner of the house I did inquire for?
Cel. It is no boast, being ask’d, to say we are.
090 Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both,
And to that youth he calls his Rosalind
092 He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he?
Ros. I am: what must we understand by this?
Oli. Some of my shame; if you will know of me
095 What man I am, and how, and why, and where
096 This handkercher was stain’d.
I pray you, tell it.
Oli. When last the young Orlando parted from you
He left a promise to return again
099 Within an hour, and pacing through the forest,
100 Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy,
Lo, what befel! he threw his eye aside,
And mark what object did present itself:
103 Under an oak, whose boughs were moss’d with age
And high top bald with dry antiquity,
105 A wretched ragged man, o’ergrown with hair,
Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck
A green and gilded snake had wreathed itself,
Who with her head nimble in threats approach’d
The opening of his mouth; but suddenly,
110 Seeing Orlando, it unlink’d itself,
And with indented glides did slip away
112 Into a bush: under which bush’s shade
A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,
Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch,
115 When that the sleeping man should stir; for ’tis
The royal disposition of that beast
To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead:
This seen, Orlando did approach the man
And found it was his brother, his elder brother.
120 Cel. O, I have heard him speak of that same brother;
And he did render him the most unnatural
122 That lived amongst men.
And well he might so do,
For well I know he was unnatural.
Ros. But, to Orlando: did he leave him there,
125 Food to the suck’d and hungry lioness?
Oil. Twice did he turn his back and purposed so;
But kindness, nobler ever than revenge,
And nature, stronger than his just occasion,
Made him give battle to the lioness,
130 Who quickly fell before him: in which hurtling
From miserable slumber I awaked.
Cel. Are you his brother?
132 Was’t you he rescued?
Cel. Was’t you that did so oft contrive to kill him?
Oli. ’Twas I; but ’tis not I: I do not shame
135 To tell you what I was, since my conversion
So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am.
Ros. But, for the bloody napkin?
By and by.
When from the first to last betwixt us two
Tears our recountments had most kindly bathed,
140 As how I came into that desert place;
141 In brief, he led me to the gentle Duke,
Who gave me fresh array and entertainment,
Committing me unto my brother’s love;
Who led me instantly unto his cave,
145 There stripp’d himself, and here upon his arm
The lioness had torn some flesh away,
Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted
And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind.
Brief, I recover’d him, bound up his wound;
150 And, after some small space, being strong at heart,
He sent me hither, stranger as I am,
To tell this story, that you might excuse
His broken promise, and to give this napkin,
154 Dyed in his blood, unto the shepherd youth
155 That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. [Rosalind swoons.
Cel. Why, how now, Ganymede! sweet Ganymede!
Oli. Many will swoon when they do look on blood.
158 Cel. There is more in it. Cousin Ganymede!
Oli. Look, he recovers.
160 Ros. I would I were at home.
We’ll lead you thither.
I pray you, will you take him by the arm?
Oli. Be of good cheer, youth: you a man! you lack a man’s heart.
164 Ros. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body would 165 think this was well counterfeited! I pray you, tell your brother how well I counterfeited. Heigh-ho!
Oli. This was not counterfeit: there is too great testimony 168 in your complexion that it was a passion of earnest.
Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you.
170 Oli. Well then, take a good heart and counterfeit to be a man.
Ros. So I do: but, i’faith, I should have been a woman by right.
Cel. Come, you look paler and paler: pray you, draw 175 homewards. Good sir, go with us.
Oli. That will I, for I must bear answer back How you excuse my brother, Rosalind.
Ros. I shall devise something: but, I pray you, commend my counterfeiting to him. Will you go? [Exeunt.
Touch. We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey.
Aud. Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman’s saying.
005 Touch. A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Martext. But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to you.
Aud. Ay, I know who ’tis: he hath no interest in me in the world: here comes the man you mean.
010 Touch. It is meat and drink to me to see a clown: by my troth, we that have good wits have much to answer for; we shall be flouting; we cannot hold.
Will. Good even, Audrey.
Aud. God ye good even, William.
015 Will. And good even to you, sir.
Touch. Good even, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy head; nay, prithee, be covered. How old are you, friend?
Will. Five and twenty, sir.
Touch. A ripe age. Is thy name William?
020 Will. William, sir.
Touch. A fair name. Wast born i’ the forest here?
Will. Ay, sir, I thank God.
Touch. ‘Thank God;’ a good answer. Art rich?
Will. Faith, sir, so so.
025 Touch. ‘So so’ is good, very good, very excellent good; and yet it is not; it is but so so. Art thou wise?
Will. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit.
Touch. Why, thou sayest well. I do now remember a 029 saying, ‘The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man 030 knows himself to be a fool.’ The heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a grape, would open his lips when he put it into his mouth; meaning thereby that grapes were made to eat and lips to open. You do love this maid?
034 Will. I do, sir.
035 Touch. Give me your hand. Art thou learned?
Will. No, sir.
Touch. Then learn this of me: to have, is to have; for it is a figure in rhetoric that drink, being poured out of a cup into a glass, by filling the one doth empty the other; 040 for all your writers do consent that ipse is he: now, you are not ipse, for I am he.
Will. Which he, sir?
Touch. He, sir, that must marry this woman. Therefore, you clown, abandon,—which is in the vulgar leave,— 045 the society,—which in the boorish is company,—of this female,—which in the common is woman; which together is, abandon the society of this female, or, clown, thou 048 perishest; or, to thy better understanding, diest; or, to wit, I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, 050 thy liberty into bondage: I will deal in poison with thee, or in bastinado, or in steel; I will bandy with thee in faction; 052 I will o’er-run thee with policy; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways: therefore tremble, and depart.
Aud. Do, good William.
055 Will. God rest you merry, sir. [Exit.
056 Cor. Our master and mistress seeks you; come, away, away!
Touch. Trip, Audrey! trip, Audrey! I attend, I attend. [Exeunt.
Orl. Is’t possible that on so little acquaintance you should like her? that but seeing you should love her? and loving woo? and, wooing, she should grant? and will 004 you persever to enjoy her?
005 Oli. Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden wooing, 007 nor her sudden consenting; but say with me, I love Aliena; say with her that she loves me; consent with both that we may enjoy each other: it shall be to your good; for my 010 father’s house and all the revenue that was old Sir Rowland’s will I estate upon you, and here live and die a shepherd.
012 Orl. You have my consent. Let your wedding be to-morrow: 013 thither will I invite the Duke and all’s contented followers. Go you and prepare Aliena; for look you, here 015 comes my Rosalind.
Ros. God save you, brother.
017 Oli. And you, fair sister. [Exit.
Ros. O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf!
020 Orl. It is my arm.
Ros. I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion.
Orl. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady.
Ros. Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to 025 swoon when he showed me your handkercher?
Orl. Ay, and greater wonders than that.
Ros. O, I know where you are: nay, ’tis true: there 028 was never any thing so sudden but the fight of two rams, 029 and Cæsar’s thrasonical brag of ‘I came, saw, and overcame:’ 030 for your brother and my sister no sooner met but they looked; no sooner looked but they loved; no sooner loved but they sighed; no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy: and in these degrees have they 035 made a pair of stairs to marriage which they will climb incontinent, or else be incontinent before marriage: they are in the very wrath of love and they will together; clubs cannot part them.
Orl. They shall be married to-morrow, and I will bid 040 the Duke to the nuptial. But, O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man’s eyes! By so much the more shall I to-morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I shall think my brother happy in having what he wishes for.
045 Ros. Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind?
Orl. I can live no longer by thinking.
Ros. I will weary you then no longer with idle talking. Know of me then, for now I speak to some purpose, that 050 I know you are a gentleman of good conceit: I speak not this that you should bear a good opinion of my knowledge, 052 insomuch I say I know you are; neither do I labour for a greater esteem than may in some little measure draw a belief from you, to do yourself good and not to grace me. 055 Believe then, if you please, that I can do strange things: I 056 have, since I was three year old, conversed with a magician, most profound in his art and yet not damnable. If you do 058 love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture cries it out, 059 when your brother marries Aliena, shall you marry her: I 060 know into what straits of fortune she is driven; and it is not impossible to me, if it appear not inconvenient to you, to set her before your eyes to-morrow human as she is and without any danger.
064 Orl. Speakest thou in sober meanings?
065 Ros. By my life, I do; which I tender dearly, though I say I am a magician. Therefore, put you in your best array; bid your friends; for if you will be married to-morrow, you shall; and to Rosalind, if you will.
069 Look, here comes a lover of mine and a lover of hers.
070 Phe. Youth, you have done me much ungentleness,
To show the letter that I writ to you.
Ros. I care not if I have: it is my study
To seem despiteful and ungentle to you:
You are there followed by a faithful shepherd;
075 Look upon him, love him; he worships you.
Phe. Good shepherd, tell this youth what ’tis to love.
077 Sil. It is to be all made of sighs and tears;
And so am I for Phebe.
Phe. And I for Ganymede.
080 Orl. And I for Rosalind.
Ros. And I for no woman.
082 Sil. It is to be all made of faith and service;
And so am I for Phebe.
Phe. And I for Ganymede.
085 Orl. And I for Rosalind.
Ros. And I for no woman.
Sil. It is to be all made of fantasy,
All made of passion, and all made of wishes;
089 All adoration, duty, and observance,
090 All humbleness, all patience, and impatience,
091 All purity, all trial, all observance;
And so am I for Phebe.
Phe. And so am I for Ganymede.
Orl. And so am I for Rosalind.
095 Ros. And so am I for no woman.
Phe. If this be so, why blame you me to love you?
Sil. If this be so, why blame you me to love you?
Orl. If this be so, why blame you me to love you?
099 Ros. Who do you speak to, ‘Why blame you me to 100 love you?’
Orl. To her that is not here, nor doth not hear.
Ros. Pray you, no more of this; ’tis like the howling 103 of Irish wolves against the moon. [To Sil.] I will help you, 104 if I can: [To Phe.] I would love you, if I could. To-morrow 105 meet me all together. [To Phe.] I will marry you, if 106 ever I marry woman, and I’ll be married to-morrow: [To Orl.] 107 I will satisfy you, if ever I satisfied man, and you shall be married to-morrow: [To Sil.] I will content you, if what pleases you contents you, and you shall be married 110 to-morrow. [To Orl.] As you love Rosalind, meet: [To Sil.] as you love Phebe, meet: and as I love no woman, I ’ll meet. So, fare you well: I have left you commands.
113 Sil. I’ll not fail, if I live.
Phe. Nor I.
115 Orl. Nor I. [Exeunt.
Touch. To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey; to-morrow will we be married.
Aud. I do desire it with all my heart; and I hope it is no dishonest desire to desire to be a woman of the world. 005 Here come two of the banished Duke’s pages.
First Page. Well met, honest gentleman.
Touch. By my troth, well met. Come, sit, sit, and a song.
Sec. Page. We are for you: sit i’ the middle.
First Page. Shall we clap into’t roundly, without 010 hawking or spitting or saying we are hoarse, which are 011 the only prologues to a bad voice?
Sec. Page. I’faith, i’faith; and both in a tune, like two gipsies on a horse.
It was a lover and his lass,
015 With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
That o’er the green corn-field did pass
017 In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding:
Sweet lovers love the spring.
020 Between the acres of the rye,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
022 These pretty country folks would lie,
023 In spring time, &c.
024 This carol they began that hour,
025 With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
026 How that a life was but a flower
027 In spring time, &c.
028 And therefore take the present time,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino;
030 For love is crowned with the prime
In spring time, &c.
Touch. Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no 033 great matter in the ditty, yet the note was very untuneable.
034 First Page. You are deceived, sir: we kept time, we 035 lost not our time.
Touch. By my troth, yes; I count it but time lost to 037 hear such a foolish song. God buy you; and God mend your voices! Come, Audrey. [Exeunt.
Duke S. Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy
Can do all this that he hath promised?
Orl. I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do not;
004 As those that fear they hope, and know they fear.
005 Ros. Patience once more, whiles our compact is urged:
You say, if I bring in your Rosalind,
You will bestow her on Orlando here?
Duke S. That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her.
Ros. And you say, you will have her, when I bring her?
010 Orl. That would I, were I of all kingdoms king.
Ros. You say, you’ll marry me, if I be willing?
Phe. That will I, should I die the hour after.
Ros. But if you do refuse to marry me,
You’ll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd?
015 Phe. So is the bargain.
Ros. You say, that you’ll have Phebe, if she will?
Sil. Though to have her and death were both one thing.
Ros. I have promised to make all this matter even.
Keep you your word, O Duke, to give your daughter;
020 You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter:
021 Keep your word, Phebe, that you’ll marry me,
Or else refusing me, to wed this shepherd:
Keep your word, Silvius, that you’ll marry her,
If she refuse me: and from hence I go,
025 To make these doubts all even. [Exeunt Rosalind and Celia.
Duke S. I do remember in this shepherd boy
Some lively touches of my daughter’s favour.
Orl. My lord, the first time that I ever saw him
Methought he was a brother to your daughter:
030 But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born,
And hath been tutor’d in the rudiments
Of many desperate studies by his uncle,
033 Whom he reports to be a great magician,
Obscured in the circle of this forest.
035 Jaq. There is, sure, another flood toward, and these 036 couples are coming to the ark. Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called fools.
Touch. Salutation and greeting to you all!
Jaq. Good my lord, bid him welcome: this is the motley-minded 040 gentleman that I have so often met in the forest: he hath been a courtier, he swears.
Touch. If any man doubt that, let him put me to my purgation. I have trod a measure; I have flattered a lady; I have been politic with my friend, smooth with mine 045 enemy; I have undone three tailors; I have had four quarrels, and like to have fought one.
Jaq. And how was that ta’en up?
048 Touch. Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was upon the seventh cause.
050 Jaq. How seventh cause? Good my lord, like this fellow.
Duke S. I like him very well.
053 Touch. God ’ild you, sir; I desire you of the like. I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the country copulatives, 055 to swear and to forswear; according as marriage binds and blood breaks: a poor virgin, sir, an ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own; a poor humour of mine, sir, to take that that no man else will: rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor house; as your pearl in your foul oyster.
060 Duke S. By my faith, he is very swift and sententious.
061 Touch. According to the fool’s bolt, sir, and such dulcet 062 diseases.
Jaq. But, for the seventh cause; how did you find the quarrel on the seventh cause?
065 Touch. Upon a lie seven times removed:—bear your body more seeming, Audrey:—as thus, sir. I did dislike the cut of a certain courtier’s beard: he sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, he was in the mind it was: this is called the Retort Courteous. If I sent him word 070 again ‘it was not well cut,’ he would send me word, he cut it to please himself: this is called the Quip Modest. If again ‘it was not well cut,’ he disabled my judgement: this is called the Reply Churlish. If again ‘it was not well cut,’ he would answer, I spake not true: this is called the Reproof 075 Valiant. If again ‘it was not well cut,’ he would say, 076 I lie: this is called the Countercheck Quarrelsome: and so to the Lie Circumstantial and the Lie Direct.
Jaq. And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut?
080 Touch. I durst go no further than the Lie Circumstantial, nor he durst not give me the Lie Direct; and so we measured swords and parted.
Jaq. Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie?
085 Touch. O sir, we quarrel in print, by the book; as you have books for good manners: I will name you the degrees. The first, the Retort Courteous; the second, the Quip Modest; the third, the Reply Churlish; the fourth, the Reproof Valiant; the fifth, the Countercheck Quarrelsome; 090 the sixth, the Lie with Circumstance; the seventh, the Lie Direct. All these you may avoid but the Lie Direct; and you may avoid that too, with an If. I knew when seven 093 justices could not take up a quarrel, but when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an If, as, 095 ‘If you said so, then I said so;’ and they shook hands and swore brothers. Your If is the only peace-maker; much virtue in If.
098 Jaq. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? he’s as good at any thing and yet a fool.
100 Duke S. He uses his folly like a stalking-horse and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit.
Hym. Then is there mirth in heaven,
When earthly things made even
104 Atone together.
105 Good Duke, receive thy daughter:
Hymen from heaven brought her,
Yea, brought her hither,
108 That thou mightst join her hand with his
109 Whose heart within his bosom is.
110 Ros. To you I give myself, for I am yours.
To you I give myself, for I am yours.
Duke S. If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter.
113 Orl. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind.
114 Phe. If sight and shape be true,
115 Why then, my love adieu!
Ros. I’ll have no father, if you be not he:
I’ll have no husband, if you be not he:
Nor ne’er wed woman, if you be not she.
Hym. Peace, ho! I bar confusion:
120 ’Tis I must make conclusion
Of these most strange events:
Here’s eight that must take hands
To join in Hymen’s bands,
If truth holds true contents.
125 You and you no cross shall part:
You and you are heart in heart:
You to his love must accord,
Or have a woman to your lord:
You and you are sure together,
130 As the winter to foul weather.
Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing,
Feed yourselves with questioning;
That reason wonder may diminish,
134 How thus we met, and these things finish.
135 Wedding is great Juno’s crown:
O blessed bond of board and bed!
’Tis Hymen peoples every town;
High wedlock then be honoured:
Honour, high honour and renown,
140 To Hymen, god of every town!
Duke S. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me!
142 Even daughter, welcome, in no less degree.
Phe. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine;
144 Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine.
145 Jaq. de B. Let me have audience for a word or two:
I am the second son of old Sir Rowland,
That bring these tidings to this fair assembly.
Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day
Men of great worth resorted to this forest,
150 Address’d a mighty power; which were on foot,
In his own conduct, purposely to take
His brother here and put him to the sword:
And to the skirts of this wild wood he came;
Where meeting with an old religious man,
155 After some question with him, was converted
Both from his enterprise and from the world;
His crown bequeathing to his banish’d brother,
158 And all their lands restored to them again
That were with him exiled. This to be true,
I do engage my life.
160 Welcome, young man;
161 Thou offer’st fairly to thy brothers’ wedding:
To one his lands withheld; and to the other
A land itself at large, a potent dukedom.
First, in this forest let us do those ends
165 That here were well begun and well begot:
And after, every of this happy number,
That have endured shrewd days and nights with us,
Shall share the good of our returned fortune,
169 According to the measure of their states.
170 Meantime, forget this new-fallen dignity,
And fall into our rustic revelry.
Play, music! And you, brides and bridegrooms all,
With measure heap’d in joy, to the measures fall.
Jaq. Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly,
175 The Duke hath put on a religious life
And thrown into neglect the pompous court?
Jaq. de B. He hath.
Jaq. To him will I: out of these convertites
There is much matter to be heard and learn’d.
180 [To Duke S.] You to your former honour I bequeath;
181 Your patience and your virtue well deserves it:
[To Orl.] You to a love, that your true faith doth merit:
[To Oli.] You to your land, and love, and great allies:
[To Sil.] You to a long and well-deserved bed:
185 [To Touch.] And you to wrangling; for thy loving voyage
Is but for two months victuall’d. So, to your pleasures:
I am for other than for dancing measures.
Duke S. Stay, Jaques, stay.
Jaq. To see no pastime I: what you would have
190 I’ll stay to know at your abandon’d cave. [Exit.
191 Duke S. Proceed, proceed: we will begin these rites,
192 As we do trust they’ll end, in true delights. [A dance.
Ros. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue; but it is no more unhandsome than to see the lord the prologue. If it be true that good wine needs no bush, ’tis true that a good play needs no epilogue: yet to good wine they 005 do use good bushes; and good plays prove the better by 006 the help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then, 007 that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play! I am not furnished like a beggar, therefore to beg will not become me: my way is 010 to conjure you; and I’ll begin with the women. I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as 012 much of this play as please you: and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women,—as I perceive by your 014 simpering, none of you hates them,—that between you and 015 the women the play may please. If I were a woman I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions that liked me and breaths that I defied not: and, I am sure, as many as have good beards or good faces or sweet breaths will, for my kind offer, when I make 020 curtsy, bid me farewell. [Exeunt.
Le Beau is so called in F1 on his first entrance, afterwards always ‘Le Beu.’
The banished Duke is called Duke Senior in the stage directions.
Rosalind is spelt indifferently thus and ‘Rosaline.’
Rowe, in his second edition, besides ‘Touchstone’ and ‘William,’ introduced among the Dramatis Personæ ‘A clown in love with Audrey.’ He was followed by Pope, Theobald, Hanmer, and Warburton. Johnson struck it out.
i. 1. 46. The correction revenues for reverence has been made in MS. by some unknown hand in Capell’s copy of the third Folio. The writing somewhat resembles Warburton’s.
i. 2. 79. There can be no doubt that the words ‘wise men’ here printed as two, in obedience to modern usage, were frequently in Shakespeare’s time written and pronounced as one word, with the accent on the first syllable, as ‘madman’ is still. See Sidney Walker’s Criticisms, Vol. ii. p. 139.
i. 2. 147, 149. It does not seem necessary to make any change in the text here. Perhaps Shakespeare wrote the prose parts of the play hastily, or it may be that Orlando, who is summoned by Celia, but whose thoughts are fixed upon Rosalind, is made to say ‘them,’ not ‘her,’ designedly.
i. 2. 187. Before we were aware of Mason’s conjecture, it occurred to us that the sentence would run better thus: ‘An you mean to mock me after, you should not have mocked me before.’ ‘And,’ for ‘an,’ is a more probable reading than ‘if,’ as it may have been omitted by the printer, who mistook it for part of the stage direction—‘Orl. and’ for ‘Orland.’ We have since discovered that Theobald proposed ‘An.’
i. 3. 92. See a discussion as to the proper punctuation and meaning of the words ‘No, hath not?’ in Notes and Queries, 1st Ser. Vol. vii. p. 520, and in Mr Singer’s note on this passage. It may be doubted whether the passages quoted by Mr Grant White are apposite to this, where there is a double negative.
iii. 2. 317. In the fourth Folio, and in Rowe’s two editions, the word ‘kindled’ happens to be in two lines, and therefore divided by a hyphen. Pope, misled by this, printed it in his first edition as a compound, ‘kind-led,’ interpreting it probably with reference to the gregarious habits of the animal in question.
iii. 3. 80–83. Johnson proposes to arrange these lines as follows:
Clo.... Come, sweet Audrey; we must be married, or we must live in bawdry.
Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. [They whisper.
Clo. Farewell, &c.
iii. 4. 38. As the word ‘puisny’ is here used not in the modern sense of ‘diminutive,’ but in the now obsolete sense of ‘inferior, unskilled,’ we think it better to retain the spelling of the Folios.
iv. 2. 12. The words ‘Then sing him home, the rest shall beare this burthen’ are printed in the Folios as part of the song. Rowe and Pope made no change. Theobald first gave ‘the rest shall bear this burthen’ as a stage direction. Mr Knight, Mr Collier, Mr Grant White and Mr Dyce take the whole to be a stage direction, Mr Grant White reading ‘They sing him home,’ for ‘Then.......’ Mr Halliwell prints ‘Then sing him home, the rest shall bear—This burthen.’ Mr Knight gives in a note the music written for this song by Hilton, and published in 1652. In Hilton’s setting, the words ‘Then sing him home, &c.’ are left out, but that, as Mr Knight implies, is not conclusive as to the original song.
Capell’s arrangement is as follows:
1 v. What......deer?
2 v. His.........wear.
1 v. Then ......home.
BOTH.
Take ......born.
1 v. Thy ........wore it.
2 v. And ........bore it.
CHO.
The horn......scorn.
iv. 3. 164. Malone wrongly attributes the reading ‘Sir’ for ‘Sirra’ to the second Folio.
v. 3. 17. The Edinburgh MS. mentioned in our footnotes is one in the Advocates’ Library (fol. 18), and the song has been reprinted from it in Chappell’s Collection of National English Airs, ed. 1840, p. 130.
1: fashion] Ff. my father Hanmer (Warburton). fashion; my father Heath conj. fashion. He Malone (Blackstone conj.). fashion he Ritson conj.
2: me by] me. By Johnson.
poor a] F1. a poor F2 F3 F4.
3: charged my brother] my brother charged Seymour conj.
7: stays] Ff. stys Warburton.
10: fair] fat Anon. conj.
15, 16: countenance] discountenance Warburton.
23: Scene ii. Pope.
25: Enter...] Ff (after line 23).
26: here] F3 F4. heere F1. heare F2.
31: be naught] do aught Hanmer. be wrought Jackson conj.
34: prodigal] prodigal’s Seymour conj.
39: him] he Pope.
46: reverence] revenues Anon MS. conj. revenue Hanmer (Warburton). See note (ii).
52: Boys] F1. Boyes F2 F3 F4.
57: masters] F1. master F2 F3 F4.
63: from me Ff. me from Pope.
77: Scene iii. Pope.
grow] growl Anon. ap. Collier conj.
81: wrestler] wrastler F1 F3 F4. wrastle F2.
85: [Exit...] Johnson.
88: Monsieur] morrow, Monsieur S. Walker conj. morrow, Anon. conj.
96: Duke’s] old Duke’s Hanmer.
98: Duke’s] new Duke’s Hanmer.
100: she] F3 F4. he F1 F2.
101: her] F1 F2. their F3 F4.
111: came] come F4.
139: anatomize] F3 F4. anatomise F1 F2.
145: Oli.] om. F1.
[Exit C.] Exit. Rowe (after line 144). om. Ff.
147: he] him Seymour conj.
Scene ii.] Scene iv. Pope.
Lawn...] Capell. Open walk Theobald.
3: I were] Rowe (ed. 2). were Ff.
14: I] me Hanmer.
36: ill-favouredly] ill-favoured Rowe (ed. 2).
40: No?] Hanmer. No; Ff.
43: the] F1 F2. this F3 F4.
44: there is Fortune] F1 F2. Fortune is there F3 F4.
48: perceiveth] F1. perceiving F2 F3 F4.
49: and hath] Malone. hath Ff.
51: the wits] his wits Reed. the wise Spedding conj.
wit] om. Rowe.
whither] F2. whether F1 F3 F4.
64: your] you F2.
73: is’t that] F1 F2 F3. is that F4.
74: One that old Frederick] One old Frederick that Collier conj.
Frederick] Ferdinand Capell conj. See note (iii).
75: Cel.] Theobald. Ros. Ff.
him: enough!] Hanmer. him enough; Ff.
79: wise men] F3 F4. wisemen F1 F2. See note (iii).
83: Le Beau] the Beu F1. Le Beu F2 F3 F4.
84: Scene v. Pope.
87: Enter Le Beau] F1. Enter Le Beu. F2 F3 F4 (after line 83).
88: Bon] Boon Ff.
what’s the] F1. what the F2. what F3 F4.
89: good] om. F3 F4.
90: Sport!] Spot? Collier (Collier MS.).
93: decrees] Ff. decree Pope.
106–108: Le Beau. Three...presence. Ros. With...presents.] Ff. Le Beau. Three...presence. Ros. With...necks. Clo. Be it...presents. Warburton. Le Beau. Three...necks. Ros. Be it...presents. Dyce (Farmer conj.).
122: breaking] of breaking F4.
125–127: Ros. But......cousin?] Touch. But...rib-breaking? Ros. Shall...cousin? Anon. conj.
125: see] set Theobald (Warburton). feel Johnson conj. get Heath conj. seek Jackson conj.
129: for the] F1. for F2 F3 F4.
132: ...Frederick...] Rowe.
133: Scene vi. Pope.
142: in] on Anon. conj.
man] Ff. men Hanmer.
145: Cel.] Cel. and Ros. Lettsom conj.
147: princess calls] F4. Princesse cals F1. Princesse calls F2 F3. princesses call Theobald. princess’ call Dyce (S. Walker conj.). See note (iv).
149: them] her Rowe.
153: but in] F1. but F2 F3 F4. but e’en Edd. conj.
157, 158: your eyes...your judgement,] our eyes...our judgement Hanmer (Warburton).
165: thoughts; wherein] thoughts. Herein Mason conj. thoughts. Therein Johnson conj. thoughts; Spedding conj.
guilty,] guilty, is Jackson conj.
174: that] om. Rowe.
181: in it] it in Boswell.
187: You] An you Theobald conj. If you Mason conj. See note (v).
188: me] om. F3 F4.
191: [They wrestle] F3 F4. [Wrastle. F1 F2.
194: [Shout. Charles is thrown.] Rowe. [Shout. Ff.
209: [Exeunt...] Capell. [Exit Duke. Ff.
210: Scene vii. Pope.
223: as you have exceeded all] as you’ve here exceeded Hanmer. as you have exceeded Capell. as you have excell’d all S. Walker conj.
promise] F1. in promise F2 F3 F4.
224: [Giving...] Theobald.
225: out of suits with fortune] out of fortune’s suite Becket conj. out of sorts with fortune Anon. ap. Halliwell conj.
226: could] would Becket conj.
means] meane F2.
230: lifeless] Rowe (ed. 2). liveless Ff.
236: [Exeunt...] Exit. Ff.
239: Re-enter...] Enter Le Beu. Ff (after line 237).
244: misconstrues] misconsters Ff.
246: I] me Rowe.
249: was] were Hanmer.
251: taller] Ff. shorter Rowe (ed. 2). smaller Malone. lower Staunton. lesser Spedding conj.
252: other is] Ff. other’s Pope.
259: her virtues] virtues F2.
265: [Exit...] om. Ff.
Scene iii.] Scene viii. Pope.
A room...] Capell. An apartment... Theobald.
Enter...] Re-enter... Pope.
7: there were] were there Anon. conj.
11: child’s father] Ff. father’s child Rowe (ed. 2).
26: strong] F1 F2. strange F3 F4.
32: not] nor F2.
33: I not] I hate Theobald conj.
he not] F1 F2. not he F3 F4.
34: Scene ix. Pope.
36: Enter......] Enter Duke with Lords Ff (after line 33).
37: safest] fastest Collier MS. swiftest Singer conj.
39: ten] two Anon. conj.
44: mine] my Rowe.
53: likelihood] F2 F3 F4. likelihoods F1.
66: It...remorse] omitted in Rowe (ed. 1).
72: inseparable] inseparate Collier MS.
77: seem] shine Warburton.
86: Scene x. Pope.
whither] where Pope.
87: fathers] F1. father F2 F3 F4.
89: Thou] Indeed, thou Steevens conj.
92: No, hath not?] Ff. No? hath not? Rowe (ed. 2). No hath not? Singer. No ‘hath not.’ Halliwell conj. See note (vi).
93: thee] me Theobald (Warburton).
am] are Theobald.
98: your change] F1. your charge F2 F3 F4. the charge Singer conj.
103: in...Arden] omitted by Steevens, reading Why...uncle as a verse.
105: forth so far] F1 F3 F4. for farre F2.
108: smirch] F1. smitch F2. smutch F3 F4.
120: worse a] Ff. worser Collier MS.
122: be] by F1.
133: we in] F2 F3 F4. in we F1. away or in true Anon. conj.
1: brothers] F1. brother F2 F3 F4.
5: but] Theobald. not Ff. yet Staunton conj.
6: as] or Collier MS. at Staunton conj.
18: I would not change it. Ami. Happy] Dyce (Upton conj.). Amien. I would not change it, happy Ff.
31: root] roote F1. roope F2. roop F3 F4.
42: the extremest] th’ extremest Ff.
45: into] Ff. in Pope.
49: had] hath Singer (Collier MS.).
much] F2 F3 F4. must F1.
there] F1. om. F2 F3 F4.
50: friends] Rowe. friend Ff.
59: the country] F2 F3 F4. countrie F1. country, of Anon. conj.
62: to kill] kill Collier MS.
up] too De Quincy MS.
8: roynish] roguish Staunton conj.
10: Hisperia] Ff. Hesperia Warburton.
17: brother] brother’s Mason conj.
20: quail] fail Lloyd conj.
Scene iii. Before O.’s house] Capell. O.’s house. Rowe.
...meeting] Capell. om. Ff.
8: bonny] F2 F3 F4. bonnie F1. boney Warburton.
10: some] seeme F1.
15: bears] wears Anon. conj.
16: Orl.] om. F1.
17: within] with F2.
within this] beneath this Capell conj.
29: Orl.] Ad. F1.
30: so] F1. for F2 F3 F4.
37: blood] proud Collier MS.
39: your] F1. you F2 F3 F4.
41: lie] be De Quincy MS.
49: in] to Capell conj.
50: not] I Rowe.
57: service] favour Collier MS. temper Lettsom conj.
58: service] servants Anon. ap. Halliwell conj.
71: seventeen] Rowe. seauentie F1. seventy F2 F3 F4.
74: it...week] too late: it is a-weak Becket conj.
Scene iv...Enter...] Enter Rosaline...and Clowne, alias Touchstone. Ff.
1: weary] Theobald (Warburton). merry Ff.
8: cannot] F1. can F2 F3 F4.
13: Arden] a den Upton conj.
16, 17: S. Walker would read as verse Ay, Be so...here; A young...talk.
16: Enter C. and S.] Ff (after line 15).
24: ever] F1. ere F2 F3 F4.
30: ne’er] Rowe. never Ff.
34: sat] F1. sate F2 F3 F4. spake Collier MS.
35: Wearing] F1. Wearying F2 F3 F4. Wear’ing Grant White.
39: [Exit.] F1. Exeunt. F2 F3 F4.
41: of thy wound] Rowe. of they would F1. of their wound F2 F3 F4.
45: a-night] a night F1. a nights F2 F3 F4. o’ nights Capell. o’ night Malone.
46: batlet] F2 F3 F4. batler F1.
48: cods] peas Johnson conj.
56: Jove, Jove] Love, Love Collier (Collier MS.).
57: much upon] too much on Collier (from Collier MS).
58: After this line Collier (from Collier MS.) inserts And begins to fail with me.
59: yond] you’d Ff.
63: are they very] they are Rowe (ed. 1) they are very Rowe (ed. 2). they’re very Hanmer.
64: you,] your F1.
73: shepherd] a shepherd Rowe.
76: recks] Hanmer. wreakes F1 F2. wreaks F3 F4.
78: cote] Hanmer. coate F1 F2. coat F3 F4.
89, 90: Arranged as in Cappell. As three lines ending wages...could...it Ff. As three lines ending wages...waste...it Rowe (ed. 2).
89: wages] wage Lloyd conj.
94: feeder] factor W. Walker conj.
1: Ami.] Capell. om. Ff.
greenwood] greenhood F4.
3: turn] F3 F4. turne F1 F2. tune Rowe (ed. 2).
6: Here] Cho. Here Capell.
he] we Capell (corrected in MS.).
11–13: Printed in Ff as three lines ending more...song...more.
14: ragged] rugged Rowe.
16: Come, more] Come, come Rowe.
stanzo...stanzos] stanza...stanzas Steevens (Capell conj.). stanze...stanzes Anon. conj.
18: owe] F1. owne F2. own F3 F4.
22: compliment] complement Ff.
28: drink] dine Rowe.
30–33: And......them] Printed as four lines ending him...company:...give...them. in Ff. First as prose by Pope.
34: [All together...] Altogether... Ff. om. Rowe.
35: live] lye F4.
39: Here] Cho. Here Capell.
39–41: Here......weather] F3 F4. Heere shall he see, &c. F1 F2.
39: he] you Rowe.
44, 45: Ami. And...it. Jaq. Thus it goes] Amy. And Ile sing it. Amy. Thus it goes. F1.
50, 54: Ducdame.........ducdame] Duc ad me....Duc ad me Hanmer. Huc ad me...Huc ad me Anon. ap. Steevens conj.
53: to me] to Ami. Steevens (Farmer conj.). to the same Anon. conj.
1–3: Printed as three verses ending further...downe...master in Ff. First as prose by Pope.
1: I die] I die, I die S. Walker conj., making three lines ending O...down...master.
4–16: Printed as seventeen lines in Ff. First as prose by Pope.
5: comfort] comfort thee Anon. conj.
8: comfortable] comforted Collier MS. (Caldecott).
9: here be] be here Rowe.
10: I will] I’ll Pope.
12: cheerly] F4. cheerely F1 F2 F3. cheerily Reed.
Scene vii. A table set out] Rowe.
Enter...] Enter Duke Sen. & Lord,... Ff.
10: After this line Capell inserts And cannot have ’t?
13: miserable world] miserable varlet Hanmer (Warburton). miserable word Becket conj. miserable!—well,— Jackson conj. miserable ort Hunter conj.
25: one] an Reed (1803).
31: deep-contemplative] Reed.
34–36: A worthy...O worthy] O worthy...A worthy Anon. conj.
53: He that] He whom Pope.
54, 55: Doth very foolishly,...Not to seem] Doth, very foolishly...Seem Whiter conj.
55: Not to seem senseless] Theobald (Warburton). Sceme senselesse Ff. But to seem senseless Collier (Collier MS.). Seem else than senseless or Seem less than senseless Anon. conj.
56: wise man’s] Wise-man’s F1 F2 F3. wise-man’s F4.
64: sin] fin F1.
66: sting] sty Johnson conj.
73: weary very means] F3 F4. (meanes F3). wearie verie meanes F1 F2. very very means Pope. weary venom means Jackson conj. very wearing means Collier conj. very means of wear Collier MS. wearer’s very means Singer. weary-very means or very-weary means Staunton conj. tributary streams Lloyd conj.
83: There then; how then? what then?] There then, how then, what then, Ff. There then; how, what then? Capell. Where then? how...then? Malone conj.
what then? Let me] Let me then Hanmer.
87: any....comes] F2 F3 F4. any man. But who come F1.
Enter......drawn.] Theobald. Enter Orlando. Ff.
90: Of what] What Capell conj.
come of] come Rowe.
95: hath] F1. that hath F2 F3 F4.
ta’en] torn Johnson conj.
100, 101: Printed as verse, ending reason...die in Ff. First as prose by Capell. If...not Be...die Pope.
100: An] And Ff. If Pope.
answered] answer’d Ff.
reason] reasons Staunton conj.
102, 103: As three lines ending have?...your force...gentleness in Ff.
109: commandment] command’ment Ff.
119: blush] F1. bush F2 F3 F4.
125: command] demand Johnson conj. commend Collier (Collier MS.).
130: a] om. F4.
132: Oppressed....hunger] Should follow line 129. Anon. conj.
135: [Exit.] Rowe. om. Ff.
139: Wherein we play in] Wherein we play Pope. Which we do play in Capell conj.
Wherein... Jaq. All] Wherein in we play. Jaq. Why, all Steevens conj. wherein we play. Jaq. Ay, all Anon. conj.
141: exits] Exits (in italics) Ff.
143: ages] labours Mason conj.
At first] As first Capell conj. Act first or First Anon. conj.
145: Then] And then Rowe (ed. 2). Then there’s Anon. conj.
150: pard] Pand Anon. conj.
161: shank] F3 F4. shanke F1 F2. shanks Hanmer.
167, 168: Welcome...feed] Printed as prose in Ff.
174: Ami.] Amiens sings. Johnson. om. Ff.
175–178: As two lines in Ff.
178: Because] Beside, Becket conj.
Because...seen] Thou causest not that teen Hanmer. Because the heart’s not seen Farmer conj. Because thou art foreseen Staunton conj.
seen] sheen Warburton.
182: Then,] Rowe. The Ff.
184–189: As four lines in Ff.
189: remember’d] remembering Hanmer.
198: master] masters F1.
Scene i. A room...] Capell.
Duke F.] Duke, F1.
1: see] seen Singer (Collier MS.).
3: seek] F1. see F2 F3 F4.
Scene ii. Enter...paper] Capell. Enter Orlando. Ff.
11: Scene iii. Pope.
25: good] pood F1.
28: good] bad Hanmer. gross Warburton.
33: hope.] hope— Rowe.
41: Touchstone] Mr. Touchstone Capell.
50: a mutton] F1. mutton F2 F3 F4.
54: more sounder] sounder Pope.
56: courtier’s] countiers F2.
59: flesh indeed!] flesh indeed: Ff. flesh: indeed!— Steevens.
71: bawd] F1 F2. a bawd F3 F4.
76: Master] M^r Ff.
77: Scene iv. Pope.
Enter R....reading.] Capell. Enter Rosalind. Ff.
78: western] the western Pope.
82: lined] Linde F1 F2 F3. Lind F4. limn’d Capell.
84: face] fair S. Walker conj.
85: the fair of] F1 F2. the most fair F3 F4. the face of Rowe (ed. 2). of the fair Becket conj.
88: rank to] F3 F4. ranke to F1 F2. rate to Hanmer. rant at Grey conj.
95: Winter] F3 F4. Wintred F1 F2.
99: nut] F1 F2. meat F3 F4.
112: forest] forester Warburton.
113: Scene v. Pope.
115: [reads] om. Ff.
a desert] Rowe. desert Ff. desert silent Steevens (Tyrwhitt conj.).
129: The] F1 F2. This F3 F4.
131: charged] charg’d F1 F2. chang’d F3 F4.
135: cheek] cheeke F1 F2. cheeks F3 F4.
her] Rowe. his Ff.
145: pulpiter] Edd. (Spedding conj.). Jupiter Ff. Juniper Warburton.
147: cried] cride, have your parishiones withall, and never cri’de F2.
148: back, friends] back-friends Theobald.
152: [Exeunt C. and T.] Exit. Ff.
153: Scene vi. Pope.
162: the wonder] F1 wonder F2 F3 F4.
163, 164: palm-tree] plane-tree Collier conj.
164: Pythagoras’] Pythagoras. Ff. Pythagoras’s Rowe.
168: And] Ay, and Capell.
169: you] F1 F2. your F3 F4.
177: tell] till F2.
180: hooping] F1 F2 F3. hoping F4. whooping Theobald.
181: Good my] Odd’s my Theobald. Good! cry Becket conj. Goad my Jackson conj. Hood my Staunton conj.
complexion] coz perplexer Heath conj.
182: hose] F1. a hose F2 F3 F4.
183, 184: South-sea of discovery;] South-sea off discovery. Theobald (Warburton). South-sea Discover, Johnson conj. South-sea discovery: Id. conj. south-sea-off discovery. Capell.
184: who is it] who is it? Hanmer. who it is Anon. conj.
200: maid] mind Anon. conj.
210: Gargantua’s] Garagantua’s Pope.
212: in] om. Heath conj.
216: wrestled] wrastled F1 F3 F4. wrasted F2.
217: atomies] F1 F2. atomes F3 F4. atoms Rowe.
219: good] a good Steevens.
219, 220: a tree] an oak-tree Hanmer (Warburton conj.).
221, 222: drops forth such] F2 F3 F4. droppes forth F1. drops such Capell.
229: thy tongue] Rowe. the tongue Ff.
230: unseasonably] very unseasonably Reed (1803).
231: heart] Hart Ff.
236: Scene vii. Pope.
here] heere F1. nerre F2. near F3 F4.
Enter...] Ff (after line 235).
242: buy] Ff. b’w’ Rowe.
246: more] moe F1.
258: you] your Mason conj.
right] right in the stile of the Hanmer.
259: your] you F2.
264: most] F1. no F2 F3 F4.
276: Scene viii. Pope.
277: [Exit...] om. Ff.
280: [Advances. Capell.
290: paces] F1 F2. places F3 F4.
294: who] F1. whom F2 F3 F4.
doth he trot] ambles Time Hunter conj.
295: trots hard] ambles Id. conj.
297: hard] ambling Id. conj.
298: year] years F4.
299: ambles Time] doth he trot Hunter conj.
305: ambles] trots Hunter conj.
306: Who] F1. Whom F2 F3 F4.
309: Who] F1. Whom F2 F3 F4.
stays it] stands he Collier (Collier MS.).
317: kindled] kind-led Pope. See note (vii).
323: lectures] F3 F4. lectors F1. lecturs F2.
324: and] om. F3 F4.
330: one] F1 F2. ones F3 F4.
331: monstrous] most monstrous S. Walker conj.
335: barks] borkes F2.
337: deifying] F2 F3 F4. defying F1.
344: are] art F1.
346: blue] flu Becket conj.
349, 350: in beard] F1. no beard F2 F3 F4.
354. accoutrements] Rowe. accoustrements Ff.
384: his mad...living] Ff. a dying...living Johnson conj. a mad...loving Id. conj.
living humour of madness] humour of loving madness Farmer conj.
388: clean] F1. cleare F2. cleer F3. clear F4.
Scene iii.] Scene ix. Pope.
...behind.] om. Ff.
2: how] F1 F2. now F3 F4.
4: features!...what features] feature!...what’s feature Farmer conj.
11: reckoning] reeking Hanmer.
17, 18: what they...feign] what they swear as lovers, they may be said to feign as poets Johnson conj.
18: may] it may Collier (Mason conj.).
30: foul] faule F2.
32, 33: I am foul] I am full Tyrwhitt conj. for my foulness Ritson conj.
41: may] might Collier MS.
43: horn-beasts] horne-beasts F1 F2. horn’d beasts S. Walker conj.
48: Horns?......alone?] Theobald. horns, even so poor men alone: Ff. Horns!, never for poor men alone? Singer. Are horns given to poor men alone? Collier (Collier MS.). Horns? ever to poor men alone? Dyce. Horns are not for poor men alone. Spedding conj.
50: more] om. Pope.
62: What-ye-call’t] What ye call Rowe (ed. 2).
63: God ’ild] Theobald. goddild F1. godild F2 F3 F4.
67: bow] bough Capell.
68: her] F1 F2. his F3 F4.
80: Johnson proposes to place this line after line 82. See note (viii).
83: Master] Sir Warburton.
83, 84: not,—O sweet] Not, o sweet Capell.
84–86, 88–90: Printed as prose in Ff, as verse by Johnson (Warburton conj.).
86: behind thee] behi’ thee Steevens (Farmer conj.)
87, 88: but,—Wind] But wind Capell.
88: Wind] Wend Collier (Johnson conj.).
90: with thee] wi’ thee Steevens (Farmer conj.). bind thee Collier (Collier MS.). with thee to-day Johnson conj.
[Exeunt J. T. and A.] Exeunt. Ff (after line 92).
Scene iv.] Scene x. Pope.
12–16: Ros. And...bread. Cel. He...them] Ros. And his kissing— Cel. Is as...them. S. Walker conj.
13: bread] beard Theobald (Warburton).
14: cast] F1. chast F2 F3 F4.
15: winter’s] Winifred’s Theobald conj.
27: a lover] F2 F3 F4. lover F1.
29: confirmer] Ff. confirmers Pope.
38: puisny] Ff. puny Capell. See note (ix).
spurs] spurnes F2.
39: noble goose] nose-quill’d goose Hanmer. noble joust Becket conj.
40: guides] guider F2.
43: Who] F1. Whom F2 F3 F4.
52: Bring us to] Ff. Bring us but to Pope. Come, bring us to Capell. Bring us unto Malone.
Scene v.] Scene xi. Pope.
1: Phebe;] Rowe. Phebe F1 F2. Phebe, F3 F4.
7: dies and lives] Ff. deals and lives Theobald (Warburton). lives and thrives Hanmer. dies his lips Johnson conj. daily lives Heath conj. eyes, and lives Capell. dyes, and lives Steevens. lives and dies Tollet conj. dines and lives Collier. kills and lives Collier MS.
drops] props F2.
...behind] om. Ff.
11: pretty, sure] Theobald. pretty sure Ff.
17: swoon] swound Ff.
22: but] om. F1.
23: capable] Ff. palpable Singer.
26: Nor] Now De Quincey MS.
27: O dear] O my dear Hanmer.
29: meet] F1 met F2 F3 F4.
35: [Advancing. Capell.
36: and all at once] and rail at once Theobald (Warburton). and domineer Hanmer. à l’outrecuidance Forbes conj.
37: have no] have Theobald (L. H. conj.). have some Hanmer. had more Mason conj. have mo Malone.
37, 38: no...As] more... Yet De Quincey MS.
44: my] F1. mine F2 F3 F4.
46: black silk] black-silk Capell.
48: entame] entraine Warburton conj.
53: makes] make Pope.
54: flatters] flatter Pope.
62: being foul] being found Warburton.
66–69: Printed in Ff as four lines, ending she’ll...fast...sauce...me? as prose by Pope.
66: your] her Hanmer.
79: Come, to] F1 F2. Come to F3 F4.
[Exeunt...] Exit. Ff.
80: Dead] F1. Deed F2 F3 F4. ’Deed, Hanmer.
99: I in] F1. in F2. om. F3 F4.
And...grace] And such a poverty of grace attends it Rowe.
102: loose] F1 F2 F3. lose F4.
104: erewhile] F4. yerewhile F1 F2 F3.
107: carlot] Carlot Ff (in italics).
117: very] om. Capell.
127: I have] F2 F3 F4. Have F1. Have much Staunton conj.
137: and] om. Capell.
1: be] om. F1.
17: in which my] and which by Malone.
my] by F1.
18: in] is Steevens.
23: my] om. Rowe. me Warburton.
26: Enter...] Ff (after line 23).
28: Jaq.] Orl. F2.
buy] Ff. b’w’y Rowe.
29: [Exit.] F2 F3 F4. om. F1. [Exit Jaques. Dyce, after gondola, line 34.
34: gondola] Pope. gundello Ff. gondallo Rowe.
42: thousandth] Rowe. thousand Ff.
51: make] can make Hanmer.
54: beholding] beholden Pope.
comes] F1 F4. come F2 F3.
in his] against Anon. conj.
55: fortune] forehead Anon. conj.
60: leer] lure Becket conj.
65: Ros.] Orl. F2.
68: warn] ward Steevens conj. warr’nt Anon. conj.
75: think...ranker] thank...rather Collier (Collier MS.).
76: of] out of Collier MS.
82: die] F1 F4. doe F2 F3.
86: brains] F1. brain F2 F3 F4.
91: him] F1. om. F2 F3 F4.
93: chroniclers] F2 F3 F4. chronoclers F1. coroners Hanmer (Anon. conj.).
Sestos] Cestos F1.
117: Ay] om. F3 F4.
119: Ros.] Cel. Anon. conj.
122: I...commission] Printed as a verse in Ff.
123: there’s] there Steevens (Farmer conj.). thus Lloyd conj.
139: thou art] you are Rowe (ed. 2).
sleep] weep Warburton.
144: doors] doors fast Rowe (ed. 2).
146: ’twill] it will F4.
149: wilt] F3 F4. wil’t F1 F2.
156: occasion] accusation Hanmer. accusing Collier (Collier MS.). confusion Staunton conj.
157: she will...like a fool] she’ll...a fool Capell.
171: pathetical] atheistical Warburton. jesuitical Grey conj.
179: try] try you Collier MS.
180: Scene iii. Pope.
188: it] in F1.
193: I’ll tell] I tell Edd. conj.
194: Orlando] Orland F2.
Scene II.] Scene iv. Pope.
Enter...] Rowe. Enter Jaques and Lords, Forresters. Ff. Enter J. and Lords, in the habit of foresters. Steevens.
2: A Lord] Lord. Ff. 1 F. Capell. 1 Lord. Malone.
7: For.] Rowe. Lord. Ff. 2 F. Capell. 2 Lord. Malone.
10: Song.] Musicke, Song. Ff.
12: Then sing him home] See note (x).
13: the horn] the horn, the horn, the horn Theobald. the horn, the lusty horn Capell.
16: And thy father] And thy own father Hanmer. Ay, and thy or Ay, and his Capell conj.
Scene iii.] Scene v. Pope.
1–5: How...here] Printed in Ff as five lines, ending clock...Orlando...brain...forth...here.
2: and here much Orlando] Ff. I wonder much Orlando is not here Pope. and how much Orlando comes? Capell. and here’s much Orlando Steevens. and here’s no Orlando Ritson conj. and here mute is Orlando Jackson conj.
5: Enter...] Ff (after line 3).
7: bid] F2 F3 F4. did bid F1.
8: know] F1. knew F2 F3 F4.
11: tenour] Theobald. tenure Ff.
18: do] F1. did F2 F3 F4.
22: Phebe did write it] Phebe did write it, with her own fair hand Mason conj.
23: turn’d into] turned in Capell conj. turn’d so in the Id. conj.
26: on] F1 F4. one F2 F3.
33: women’s] Ff. woman’s Rowe.
54: chid] chide Rowe.
57: this] that Rowe (ed. 2).
68: strains] F1. strings F2 F3 F4.
70: snake] sneak Becket conj.
79: brings] F1. bring F2 F3 F4.
85: and] but Lettsom conj.
86: ripe sister] right forester Lettsom conj.
the] F1 but the F2 F3 F4.
88: owner] owners Capell conj.
92: this] kis Warbuton.
96: handkercher] handkerchief Rowe.
99: an hour] two hours Hanmer.
100: food] cud Staunton.
103: oak] Pope. old oake Ff.
112: which] F1. whose F2 F3 F4.
122: amongst] ’mongst Rowe (ed. 2).
132: Was’t you he rescued] Was’t...rescu’d Ff. Was it...rescu’d Warburton.
140: As how] As, how Reed. After this line Capell supposes two lines to be lost, e.g. How, in that habit; what my state, what his; And whose the service he was now engag’d in.
141: In] F2 F3 F4. I F1.
154: his] F2 F3 F4. this F1.
155: [R. swoons.] om. Ff.
158: There is more in it] F1 F2. There is no more in it F3 F4. There is no more in ’t Pope.
Cousin Ganymede!] Cosen Ganimed. Ff. (cosin F4). Cousin—Ganymed! Johnson.
160: I would] Would Pope.
164: sirrah] sirra Ff. sir Pope. See note (xi).
168: a passion] F1. passion F2 F3 F4.
29: wise man] wiseman Ff. See note (iii).
34: sir] sit F1.
48: or, to wit] to wit Steevens (Farmer conj.).
52: policy] F2 F3 F4. police F1.
56: seeks] F3 F4. seekes F1 F2. seek Rowe.
4: persever] F1 F2. persevere F3 F4.
7: nor her] Rowe. nor Ff.
12–15: Printed as five lines ending consent...I...followers:...you,...Rosalinda in Ff.
13: all’s] Ff. all his Pope.
15: Enter R.] Ff (after line 11).
17: And you] And you, and your Johnson conj.
[Exit.] Capell. om. Ff.
25: swoon] sound F1 F2 F3. swound F4.
handkercher] handkerchief F4.
28: fight] sight F4.
29: overcame] overcome F1.
52: I say] (I say) Ff.
56: year] F3. yeare F1 F2. years F4.
58: cries it] crieth Capell conj.
59: shall you] F1 F2. you shall F3 F4.
64: meanings] meaning S. Walker conj.
69: Scene iii. Pope.
75: Look...you] Look on him, love him, for he worships you Anon. conj.
77: all made] F1 F2. made all F3 F4.
82: all made] Ff. made all Rowe.
89: observance] F1 F3 F4. obserbance F2. obedience Dyce (Collier MS.).
91: observance] Ff. obeisance Ritson conj. obedience Malone conj. perseverence Heath conj. endurance Harness conj. deservance Nicholson conj.
99: Who...to] Rowe. Why...too Ff. Whom...to Singer.
103, 108, 110: To Sil.] Pope. om. Ff.
104, 105: To Phe.] Pope. om. Ff.
105: all together] F4. altogether F1 F2 F3.
106, 110: To Orl.] Pope. om. Ff.
107: satisfied] satisfy Douce conj.
113–115: Printed as a verse by Reed.
Scene iii.] Scene iv. Pope.
11: the only] only the Capell conj. your only Grant White.
17: In the] Ff. In Knight (Edinburgh MS.). See note (xii).
the only...ring] Edinburgh MS. and Steevens conj. the onely...rang Ff. the pretty spring Rowe (ed. 2). the only...rank Johnson (ed. 2). the pretty ring Steevens conj. the only...range Whiter conj. the only...spring Harness conj.
22: folks] fools Edin. MS.
would] did Edin. MS.
23: In] F1 F2 and Edin. MS. In the F3 F4.
24: This] F1 F2 and Edin. MS. The F3 F4.
26: a life] Ff and Edin. MS. life Hanmer.
27: In] F1 F2 and Edin. MS. In the F3 F4.
28–31: Placed after line 19 in Ff. Transferred by Johnson (Thirlby conj.); so in Edin. MS.
28: And...time] Then prettie lovers take the tym. Edin. MS.
33: untuneable] untunable Ff. untimeable Theobald.
34, 35: time...time] tune...tune S. Walker conj.
37: buy you] Ff. b’ w’ you Rowe.
Scene iv.] Scene v. Pope.
Celia.] Colia. F2.
4: that fear] that think Hanmer.
fear they hope...they fear] fear their hap...their fear Warburton. fear with hope and hope with fear Johnson conj. fear, they hope, and now they fear Id. conj. fear their hope, and know their fear. Capell (Heath conj.). feign they hope, and know they fear. Blackstone conj. fear, then hope; and know, then fear Musgrave conj. fearing hope, and hoping fear Mason conj. hope they fear, then know they fear Becket conj. fear the hope, and know the fear Jackson conj. fear may hope, and know they fear Harness conj. fear; they hope, and know they fear Delius (Henley conj.). fear to hope and know they fear Collier MS.
5: urged] heard Collier MS.
21: your] Pope. you your Ff.
25: even.] even—even so Collier (Collier MS.)
[Exeunt R. and C.] Exit Ros. and Celia. Ff.
33: Whom] F1 F2. Who F3 F4.
Enter T. and A.] Enter Clowne and Audrey. Ff (after line 33).
35: Scene vi. Pope.
36, 37: very strange] unclean Hanmer (Warburton).
48: was] was not Johnson conj.
50: seventh] F1 F2. the seventh F3 F4.
53: you of] of you Warburton.
55, 56: binds...breaks] bids...bids break Warburton.
61: fool’s] F4. fooles F1 F3. foles F2.
and such] in such Farmer conj.
61, 62: Touch. According...diseases.] Jaq. According......sir. Touch. And...diseases— S. Walker conj.
62: diseases] discourses Johnson conj. phrases Mason conj. discords Anon. conj.
76: I lie] I ly’d Capell.
76, 77: so to the] F2 F3 F4. so ro F1. so the Rowe.
93: take up] make up De Quincey MS.
98: as] om. Rowe.
104: Atone] Attone Ff.
108: her hand] F3 F4. his hand F1 F2.
109: his bosom] her bosom Malone.
113: sight] shape Johnson conj.
114, 115: Printed as one line in Ff.
134: these things] thus we Collier MS.
140: of] in Collier MS.
142: daughter, welcome,] F4. daughter welcome, F1 F2 F3. daughter-welcome Theobald.
144: Enter Jaques de Boys.] Rowe. Enter Second Brother. Ff.
158: them] Rowe. him Ff.
161: brothers’] Capell. brothers F1 F2 F3. brother’s F4. brothers, Reed.
169: states] ’states Collier.
180, 182, 183, 184, 185: Stage directions not in Ff.
181: deserves] deserve Pope.
191: we will] F2 F3 F4. wee’l F1.
192: As] And Reed.
trust they’ll end, in] Pope. trust, they’l end in Ff.
[A dance.] Capell. Exit. F1. om. F2 F3 F4.
Epilogue.] Warburton. Seymour supposes what follows to be spurious.
6: then] tho’ Kenrick conj.
7: cannot] can Pope.
12: please you] F1 F2. pleases you F3 F4. pleases them Hanmer (Warburton). please them Steevens.
and I] and so I Steevens (Farmer conj.).
14: hates] hate Pope.
them] them) to like as much as pleases them Hanmer (Warburton).
20: [Exeunt.] F2 F3 F4. [Exit. F1.
Love’s Labour’s Lost, iv. 1. 92. Monarcho] mammuccio Hanmer.
A Midsummer-Night’s Dream, iv. 1. 205. a patched] Ff. patcht a Qq.
CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.
Original printed spelling and grammar are generally retained. Poetry indents were sized using a monospace font. Proportional fonts will render the indents less accurately. For handheld formats, such as epub, small caps are converted to all caps. The transcriber created the cover image, and assigns it to the public domain.
Linenotes are moved from the end of each page to the end of each play, after the general NOTES for the play. Line breaks in poetry passages are generally unchanged. However, words originally broken by a hyphen over two lines are rejoined on one line. Prose passages are allowed to rewrap.
Line numbers are from the original text, and should be nearly exact in poetry sections, but will be approximate in prose sections, depending on user and browser settings. Ellipses look like the original, unless the original was at a line-break that has been eliminated in this version—for example, in prose, linenote, footnote, or general note.
Preface
Section 4., The Merchant of Venice.: the phrase "July 22, 1598. James Roberts) A booke" was changed to "July 22, 1598. (James Roberts) A booke".
Much Ado About Nothing
II. 3. 100: the printed line number was misplaced, one down; moved it up.
Love's Labour's Lost
V. 2. 917: the linenotes printed for lines 912 and 913 actually refer to lines 917 and 918; the text herein has been altered to this effect.
Midsummer-Night's Dream
III. 2. 204: the original linenote here erroneously said "See note iii", but is herein corrected to Note v.
IV. 1. 1: the linenote here erroneously said "See note (v)", herein altered to vi.
IV. 1. 7–8: the linenote is changed from "See note vi" to "See note vii".
V. 1. 0: the linenote "Enter...] see note (viii)." was originally indented under linenote 40 of IV. 2 (the last linenote of the scene), but clearly refers to the beginning of V. 1, where it has been placed.
V. 1. 105: the line number was misplaced, up one line. It has been moved to the line "In least speak...".
V. 1. 139: the linenote said "conjectures th a line"; herein changed "th " to "that".
Play Note II: "andhe" changed to "and he".
Play Note XIII: the reference is to lines V. 1. 408, 409, changed from "406, 407".
Merchant of Venice
IV, 1. 74: in the printed linenote there is a smudge and something missing between "bleat" and "the" in Hanmer's rendering. Furthermore, the presumed "t" in "bleat" is not clearly printed and may be something else, perhaps a "c". The transcriber renders this phrase "When you behold the ewe bleat for the lamb; Hanmer.", but there is significant doubt about it.
Play Note XIV: the reference is changed from IV. 1. 210 to IV. 1. 209.
As You Like It
Play Note V: "I. 2. 181" changed to "I. 2. 187".
Addenda
These two linenotes have been copied to their appropriate locations amongst the linenotes.