data_1.txt

THE TRAGEDIE OF ROMEO and IVLIET
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Sampson and Gregory, with Swords and Bucklers, of the House of Capulet.
Gregory:
A
my word wee'l not carry coales.
No, for then we should be Colliars.
I mean, if we be in choller, wee'l draw.
I
, While you liue, draw your n
THE TRAGEDIE OF ROMEO and IVLIET
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Sampson and Gregory, with Swords and Bucklers, of the House of Capulet.
Gregory:
A
my word wee'l not carry coales.
No, for then we should be Colliars.
I mean, if we be in choller, wee'l draw.
I
, While you liue, draw your necke out o'th Collar.
I strike quickly, being mou'd.
But thou art not quickly mou'd to strike.
A dog of the house of
Mountague,
moues me.
To moue, is to stir: and to be valiant, is to stand: Therefore, if thou art mou'd, thou runst away.
A dogge of that house shall moue me to stand. I will take the wall of any Man or Maid of
Mountagues.
That shewes thee a weake slaue, for the wea- kest goes to the wall.
True, and therefore women being the weaker Vessels, are euer thrust to the wall: therefore I will push
Mountagues
men from the wall, and thrust his Maides to the wall.
The Quarrell is betweene our Masters, and vs
their men.
'Tis all one, I will shew my selfe a tyrant: when I haue fought with the men, I will bee ciuill with the Maids, and cut off their heads.
The heads of the Maids?
I
, the heads of the Maids, or their Maiden-heads, Take it in what sence thou wilt.
They must take
it
sence, that feele it.
Me they shall feele while I am able to stand: And 'tis knowne I am a pretty peece of flesh.
'Tis well thou art not Fish: If thou had'st, thou had'st beene poore Iohn. Draw thy Toole, here comes of the House of the
Mountagues.
Enter two other Seruingmen.
My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I wil back thee
How? Turne thy backe, and run.
Feare me not.
No marry: I feare thee.
Let vs take the Law of our sides: let them begin.
I wil frown as I passe by, & let the[m] take it as they list
Nay, as they dare. I wil bite my Thumb at them, which is a disgrace to them, if they beare it.
Do you bite your Thumbe at vs sir?
I do bite my Thumbe, sir.
Do you bite your Thumb at vs, sir?
Is the Law of our side, if I say
I
?
No.
No sir, I do not bite my Thumbe at you sir: but I bite my Thumbe sir.
Do you quarrell sir?
Quarrell sir? no sir.
If you do sir, I am for you, I serue as good a man
as you
No better?
Well sir.
Enter Benuolio.
Say better: here comes one of my masters kinsmen.
Yes, better.
You Lye.
Draw if you be men.
Gregory,
remember thy washing blow.
They Fight.
Part Fooles, put vp your Swords, you know not what you do.
Enter Tibalt.
What art thou drawne, among these heartlesse Hindes? Turne thee
Benuolio,
looke vpon thy death.
I do but keepe the peace, put vp thy Sword, Or manage it to part these men with me.
What draw, and talke of peace? I hate the word As I hate
hell
, all
Mountagues,
and thee: Haue at thee Coward.
Fight.
Enter three or foure Citizens with Clubs.
Clubs, Bils, and Partisons, strike, beat them down Downe with the
Capulets,
downe with the
Mountagues.
Enter old Capulet in his Gowne, and his wife.
What noise is this? Giue me my long Sword ho.
A crutch, a crutch: why call you for a Sword?
My Sword I say: Old
Mountague
is come, And flourishes his Blade in spight of me.
Enter old Mountague, & his wife.
Thou villaine
Capulet.
Hold me not, let me go
Thou shalt not stir
a
foote to seeke a Foe.
Enter Prince Eskales, with his Traine.
Rebellious Subiects, Enemies to peace, Prophaners of this Neighbor-stained Steele, Will they not heare? What hoe, you Men, you Beasts, That quench the fire of your pernitious Rage, With purple Fountaines issuing from your Veines: On paine of Torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mistemper'd Weapons to the ground, And heare the Sentence of your mooued Prince. Three ciuill Broyles, bred of an Ayery word, By thee old
Capulet
and
Mountague,
Haue thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets, And made
Verona's
ancient Citizens Cast by their Graue beseeming Ornaments, To wield old Partizans, in hands as old,
Cankred with peace, to part your Cankred hate, If euer you disturbe our streets againe, Your liues shall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time all the rest depart away: You
Capulet
shall goe along with me, And
Mountague
come you this afternoone, To know our Fathers pleasure in this case: To old Free-towne, our common iudgement place: Once more on paine of death, all men depart.
Exeunt.
Who set this auncient quarrell new abroach? Speake Nephew, were you by, when it began:
Heere were the seruants of your aduersarie, And yours close fighting ere I did approach, I drew to part them, in the instant came The fiery
Tibalt,
with his sword prepar'd, Which as he breath'd defiance to my eares, He swong about his head, and cut the windes, Who nothing hurt withall, hist him in scorne. While we were enterchanging thrusts and blowes, Came more and more, and fought on part and part, Till the Prince came, who parted either part.
O where is
Romeo,
saw you him to day? Right glad am I, he was not at this fray.
Madam, an houre before the worshipt Sun Peer'd forth the golden window of the East, A troubled mind draue me to walke abroad, Where vnderneath the groue of Sycamour, That West-ward rooteth from this City side: So earely walking did I see your Sonne: Towards him I made, but he was ware of me, And stole into the couert of the wood, I measuring his affections by my owne, Which then most sought, wher most might not be found: Being one too many by my weary selfe, Pursued my Honour, not pursuing his And gladly shunn'd, who gladly fled from me.
Many a morning hath he there beene seene, With teares augmenting the fresh mornings deaw, Adding to cloudes, more cloudes with his deepe sighes, But all so soone as the all-cheering Sunne, Should in the farthest East begin to draw The shadie Curtaines from
Auroras
bed, Away from light steales home my heauy Sonne, And priuate in his Chamber pennes himselfe, Shuts vp his windowes, lockes faire day-light out, And makes himselfe an artificiall night: Blacke and portendous must this humour proue, Vnlesse good counsell may the cause remoue.
My Noble Vncle doe you know the cause?
I neither know it, nor can learne of him.
Haue you importun'd him by any meanes?
Both by my selfe and many other Friends, But he his owne affections counseller, Is to himselfe (I will not say how true) But to himselfe so secret and so close, So farre from sounding and discouery, As is the bud bit with an enuious worme, Ere he can spread his sweete leaues to the ayre, Or dedicate his beauty to the same. Could we but learne from whence his sorrowes grow, We would as willingly giue cure, as know.
Enter Romeo.
See where he comes, so please you step aside, Ile know his greeuance, or be much denide.
I would thou wert so happy by thy stay, To heare true shrift. Come Madam let's away.
Exeunt.
Good morrow Cousin.
Is the day so young?
But new strooke nine.
Aye me, sad houres seeme long: Was that my Father that went hence so fast?
It was: what sadnes lengthens
Romeo's
houres?
Not hauing that, which hauing, makes them short
In loue.
Out.
Of loue.
Out of her fauour where I am in loue.
Alas that loue so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proofe.
Alas that loue, whose view is muffled still, Should without eyes, see path-wayes to his
will
: Where shall we dine? O me: what fray was heere? Yet tell me not, for I haue heard it all: Heere's much to do with hate, but more with loue: Why then, O brawling loue, O louing hate, O any thing, of nothing first created: O heauie lightnesse, serious vanity, Mishapen Chaos of welseeming formes, Feather of lead, bright smoake, cold fire, sicke health, Still waking sleepe, that is not what it is: This loue feele I, that feele no loue in this. Doest thou not laugh?
No Coze, I rather weepe.
Good heart, at what?
At thy good hearts oppression.
Why such is loues transgression. Griefes of mine owne lie heauie in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate to haue it preast With more of thine, this loue that thou hast showne, Doth adde more griefe, to too much of mine owne. Loue, is a smoake made with the fume of sighes, Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in Louers eyes, Being vext, a Sea nourisht with louing teares, What is it else? a madnesse, most discreet, A choking gall, and a preseruing sweet: Farewell my Coze.
Soft I will goe along.
And
if you leaue me so, you do me wrong.
Tut I haue lost my selfe, I am not here, This is not
Romeo,
hee's some other where.
Tell me in sadnesse, who is that you loue?
What shall I grone and tell thee?
Grone, why no: but sadly tell me who.
A sicke man in sadnesse makes his
will
: A word
ill
vrg'd to one that is so
ill
: In sadnesse Cozin, I do loue a woman.
I aym'd so neare, when I suppos'd you lou'd.
A right good marke man, and shee's faire I loue
A right faire marke, faire Coze, is soonest hit.
Well in that hit you misse, sheel not be hit With Cupids arrow, she hath
Dians
wit: And in strong proofe of chastity well arm'd: From loues weake childish Bow, she liues vncharm'd. Shee will not stay the siege of louing tearmes, Nor bid th' encounter of assailing eyes. Nor open her lap to Sainct-seducing Gold: O she is rich in beautie, onely poore, That when she dies, with beautie dies her store.
Then she hath sworne, that she will still liue chast?
She hath, and in that sparing make huge
wast
? For beauty steru'd with her seuerity, Cuts beauty off from all posteritie. She is too faire, too wise: wisely too faire, To merit blisse by making me dispaire: She hath forsworne to loue, and in that vow Do I liue dead, that liue to tell it now.
Be rul'd by me, forget to thinke of her.
O teach me how I should forget to thinke.
By giuing liberty vnto thine eyes, Examine other beauties,
'Tis the way to cal hers (exquisit) in question more, These happy maskes that kisse faire Ladies browes, Being blacke, puts vs in mind they hide the faire: He that is strooken blind, cannot forget The precious treasure of his eye-sight lost: Shew me a Mistresse that is passing faire, What doth her beauty serue but as a note, Where I may read who past that passing faire. Farewell thou can'st not teach me to forget,
Ile pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.
Exeunt
Enter Capulet, Countie Paris, and the Clowne.
Mountague
is bound as well as I, In penalty alike, and 'tis not hard I thinke, For men so old as wee, to keepe the peace.
Of Honourable reckoning are you both, And pittie 'tis you liu'd at ods so long: But now my Lord, what say you to my sute?
But saying ore what I haue said before, My Child is yet a stranger in the world, Shee hath not seene the change of fourteene yeares, Let two more Summers wither in their pride, Ere we may thinke her ripe to be a Bride.
Younger then she, are happy mothers made.
And too soone mar'd are those so early made: Earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she, Shee's the hopefull Lady of my earth: But wooe her gentle
Paris,
get her heart, My
will
to her consent, is but a part,
And
shee agree, within her scope of choise, Lyes my consent, and faire according voice: This night I hold an old accustom'd Feast, Whereto I haue inuited many a Guest, Such as I loue, and you among the store, One more, most welcome makes my number more: At my poore house, looke to behold this night, Earth-treading starres, that make darke heauen light, Such comfort as do lusty young men feele, When well apparrel'd Aprill on the
heele
Of limping Winter treads, euen such delight Among fresh Fennell buds shall you this night Inherit at my house: heare all, all see: And like her most, whose merit most shall be: Which one more veiw, of many, mine being one, May stand in number, though in reckning none. Come, goe with me: goe sirrah trudge about, Through faire
Verona,
find those persons out, Whose names are written there, and to them say, My house and welcome, on their pleasure stay.
Exit.
Find them out whose names are written. Heere it is written, that the Shoo-maker should meddle with his Yard, and the Tayler with his Last, the Fisher with his Pensill, and the Painter with his Nets. But I am sent to find those persons whose names are writ, & can neuer find what names the writing person hath here writ (I must to the learned) in good time.
Enter Benuolio, and Romeo.
Tut man, one fire burnes out anothers burning, One paine is lesned by anothers anguish: Turne giddie, and be holpe by backward turning: One desparate greefe, cures with anothers languish: Take thou some new infection to the eye, And the rank poyson of the old wil die.
Your Plantan leafe is excellent for that.
For what I pray thee?
For your broken shin.
Why
Romeo
art thou mad?
Not mad, but bound more then a mad man is: Shut vp in prison, kept without my foode, Whipt and tormented: and Godden good fellow,
Godgigoden, I pray sir can you read?
I
mine owne fortune in my miserie.
Perhaps you haue learn'd it without booke: But I pray can you read any thing you see?
I
, if I know the Letters and the Language.
Ye say honestly, rest you merry.
Stay fellow, I can read.
He reades the Letter.
Seigneur Martino, and his wife and daughter: County An-selme
and his beautious sisters: the Lady widdow of Vtru-uio,
Seigneur Placentio, and his louely Neeces: Mercutio and
his brother Valentine: mine vncle Capulet his wife and daugh-ters:
my faire Neece Rosaline, Liuia, Seigneur Valentio, & his Cosen Tybalt: Lucio and the liuely Helena.
A faire assembly, whither should they come?
Vp.
Whither? to supper?
To our house.
Whose house?
My Maisters.
Indeed I should haue askt you that before.
Now Ile tell you without asking. My maister is the great rich
Capulet,
and if you be not of the house of
Mountagues
I pray come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry.
Exit.
At this same auncient Feast of
Capulets
Sups the faire
Rosaline,
whom thou so loues: With all the admired Beauties of
Verona,
Go thither and with vnattainted eye, Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee thinke thy Swan a Crow.
When the deuout religion of mine eye Maintaines such falshood, then turne teares to fire: And these who often drown'd could neuer die, Transparent Heretiques be burnt for liers. One fairer then my loue: the all-seeing Sun Nere saw her match, since first the world begun.
Tut, you saw her faire, none else being by, Herselfe poys'd with herselfe in either eye: But in that Christall scales, let there be waid, Your Ladies loue against some other Maid That I will show you, shining at this Feast,
And
she shew scant
shell
, well, that now shewes best.
Ile goe along, no such sight to be showne, But to reioyce in splendor of mine owne.
Enter Capulets Wife and Nurse.
Nurse wher's my daughter? call her forth to me.
Now by my Maidenhead, at twelue yeare old I bad her come, what Lamb: what Ladi-bird, God forbid, Where's this Girle? what
Iuliet
?
Enter Iuliet.
How now, who calls?
Your Mother.
Madam I am heere, what is your
will
?
This is the matter: Nurse giue me leaue awhile, we must talke in secret. Nurse come backe againe, I haue re- membred me, thou'se heare our counsell. Thou knowest my daughter's of a prety age.
Faith I can tell her age vnto an houre.
Shee's not fourteene.
Ile lay fourteene of my teeth, And yet to my teene be it spoken, I haue but foure, shee's not fourteene. How long is it now to
Lammas
tide?
A fortnight and odde dayes.
Euen or odde, of all daies in the yeare come
Lammas
Eue at night shall she be fourteene.
Susan
& she, God rest all Christian soules, were of an age. Well
Susan
is with God, she was too good for me. But as I said, on
La-mas
Eue at night shall she be fourteene, that shall she ma- rie, I remember it well. 'Tis since the Earth-quake now eleuen yeares, and she was wean'd I neuer shall forget it, of all the daies of the yeare, vpon that day: for I had then laid Worme-wood to my Dug sitting in the Sunne vnder the Douehouse wall, my Lord and you were then at
Mantua,
nay I doe beare a braine. But as I said, when it did tast the Worme-wood on the nipple of my Dugge, and felt it bitter, pretty foole, to see it teachie, and fall out with the Dugge, Shake quoth the Doue-house, 'twas no neede I trow to bid mee trudge, and since that time it is a eleuen yeares, for then she could stand alone, nay bi'th' roode she could haue runne, & wadled all about: for euen the day before she broke her brow, & then my Husband God be with his soule,
a
was a merrie man, tooke vp the Child, yea quoth hee, doest thou fall vpon thy face? thou wilt fall backeward when thou hast more wit, wilt thou not
Iule
? And by my holy-dam, the pretty wretch lefte crying, & said
I
: to see now how a Iest shall come about. I warrant, & I shall liue a thousand yeares, I neuer should forget it: wilt thou not
Iule
quoth he? and pretty foole it stinted, and said
I
.
Inough of this, I pray thee hold thy peace.
Yes Madam, yet I cannot chuse but laugh, to thinke it should leaue crying, & say
I
: and yet I warrant it had vpon
it
brow, a bumpe as big as a young Cockrels stone? A perilous knock, and it cryed bitterly. Yea quoth my husband, fall'st vpon thy face, thou wilt fall back- ward when thou commest to age: wilt thou not
Iule
? It stinted: and said
I
.
And stint thou too, I pray thee
Nurse,
say I.
Peace I haue done: God marke thee
too
his grace thou wast the prettiest Babe that ere I nurst,
and
I might liue to see thee married once, I haue my wish.
Marry that marry is the very theame I came to talke of, tell me daughter
Iuliet,
How stands your disposition to be Married?
It is an houre that I dreame not of.
An houre, were I not thine onely Nurse, I would say thou had'st suckt wisedome from thy teat.
Well thinke of marriage now, yonger then you Heere in
Verona,
Ladies of esteeme, Are made already Mothers. By my count I was your Mother, much vpon these yeares That you are now a Maide, thus then in briefe: The valiant
Paris
seekes you for his loue.
A man young Lady, Lady, such a man as all the world. Why hee's a man of waxe.
Veronas
Summer hath not such a flower.
Nay hee's a flower, infaith a very flower.
What say you, can you loue the Gentleman? This night you shall behold him at our Feast, Read ore the volume of young
Paris
face, And find delight, writ there with Beauties pen: Examine euery seuerall liniament, And see how one another lends content: And what obscur'd in this faire volume lies, Find written in the Margent of his eyes. This precious Booke of Loue, this vnbound Louer, To Beautifie him, onely lacks a Couer. The fish liues in the Sea, and 'tis much pride For faire without, the faire within to hide: That Booke in manies eyes doth share the glorie, That in Gold claspes, Lockes in the Golden storie: So shall you share all that he doth possesse, By hauing him, making your selfe no lesse.
No lesse, nay bigger: women grow by men.
Speake briefly, can you like of
Paris
loue?
Ile looke to like, if looking liking moue. But no more deepe will I endart mine eye, Then your consent giues strength to make flye.
Enter a Seruing man.
Madam, the guests are come, supper seru'd vp, you cal'd, my young Lady askt for, the Nurse cur'st in the Pan- tery, and euery thing in extremitie: I must hence to wait, I beseech you follow straight.
Exit.
We follow thee,
Iuliet,
the Countie staies.
Goe Gyrle, seeke happie nights to happy daies.
Exeunt.
Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benuolio, with fiue or sixe other Maskers, Torch-bearers.
What shall this spech be spoke for our excuse? Or shall we on without Apologie?
The date is out of such prolixitie, Weele haue no
Cupid,
hood winkt with a skarfe, Bearing a Tartars painted Bow of lath, Skaring the Ladies like a Crow-keeper. But let them measure vs by what they will, Weele measure them with a Measure, and be gone.
Giue me a Torch, I am not for this ambling. Being but heauy I will beare the light.
Nay gentle
Romeo,
we must haue you dance.
Not I beleeue me, you haue dancing shooes With nimble soles, I haue a soale of Lead So stakes me to the ground, I cannot moue.
You are a Louer, borrow
Cupids
wings, And soare with them aboue a common bound.
I am too sore enpearced with his shaft, To soare with his light feathers, and to bound: I cannot bound a pitch aboue dull woe, Vnder loues heauy burthen doe I sinke.
And to sinke in it should you burthen loue, Too great oppression for a tender thing.
Is loue a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too boysterous, and it pricks like thorne.
If loue be rough with you, be rough with loue, Pricke loue for pricking, and you beat loue downe, Giue me a Case to put my visage in, A Visor for a Visor, what care I What curious eye doth quote deformities: Here are the Beetle-browes shall blush for me.
Come knocke and enter, and no sooner in, But euery man betake him to his legs.
A Torch for me, let wantons light of heart Tickle the sencelesse rushes with their heeles: For I am prouerb'd with a Grandsier Phrase, Ile be a Candle-holder and looke on, The game was nere so faire, and I am done.
Tut, duns the Mouse, the Constables owne word, If thou art dun, weele draw thee from the mire. Or saue your reuerence loue, wherein thou stickest Vp to the eares, come we burne day-light ho.
Nay that's not so.
I meane sir I delay, We
wast
our lights in vaine, lights, lights, by day; Take our good meaning, for our Iudgement sits Fiue times in that, ere once in our fiue wits.
And we meane well in going to this Maske, But 'tis no wit to go.
Why may one aske?
I dreampt a dreame to night.
And so did I.
Well what was yours?
That dreamers often lye.
In bed
a
sleepe while they do dreame things true.
O then I see Queene Mab hath beene with you: She is the Fairies Midwife, & she comes in shape no big- ger then Agat-stone, on the fore-finger of an Alderman, drawne with a teeme of little Atomies, ouer mens noses as they lie asleepe: her Waggon Spokes made of long Spin- ners legs: the Couer of the wings of Grashoppers, her Traces of the smallest Spiders web, her coullers of the Moonshines watry Beames, her Whip of Crickets bone, the Lash of Philome, her Waggoner, a small gray-coated Gnat, not halfe so bigge as a round little Worme, prickt from the Lazie-finger of a man. Her Chariot is an emptie Haselnut, made by the Ioyner Squirrel or old Grub, time out
a
mind, the Faries Coach-makers: & in this state she gallops night by night, through Louers braines: and then they dreame of Loue. On Courtiers knees, that dreame on Cursies strait: ore Lawyers fingers, who strait dreampt on Fees, ore Ladies lips, who strait on kisses dreame, which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, because their breath with Sweet meats tainted are. Sometime she gal- lops ore a Courtiers nose, & then dreames he of smelling out a sute: & somtime comes she with Tith pigs tale, tick- ling a Parsons nose as
a
lies asleepe, then he dreames of another Benefice. Sometime she driueth ore a Souldiers necke, & then dreames he of cutting Forraine throats, of Breaches, Ambuscados, Spanish Blades: Of Healths fiue Fadome deepe, and then anon drums in his eares, at which he startes and wakes; and being thus frighted, sweares a prayer or two & sleepes againe: this is that very Mab that plats the manes of Horses in the night: & bakes the Elk- locks in foule sluttish haires, which once vntangled, much misfortune bodes, This is the hag, when Maides lie on their backs, That presses them, and learnes them first to beare, Making them women of good carriage: This is she.
Peace, peace,
Mercutio
peace, Thou talk'st of nothing.
True, I talke of dreames: Which are the children of an idle braine, Begot of nothing, but vaine phantasie, Which is as thin of substance as the ayre, And more inconstant then the wind, who wooes Euen now the frozen bosome of the North: And being anger'd, puffes away from thence, Turning his side to the dew dropping South.
This wind you talke of blowes vs from our selues, Supper is done, and we shall come too late.
I feare too early, for my mind misgiues, Some consequence yet hanging in the starres, Shall bitterly begin his fearefull date With this nights reuels, and expire the tearme Of a despised life clos'd in my brest: By some vile forfeit of vntimely death. But he that hath the stirrage of my course, Direct my sute: on lustie Gentlemen.
Strike Drum.
They march about the Stage, and Seruingmen come forth with their napkins.
Enter Seruant.
Where's
Potpan,
that he helpes not to take away? He shift a Trencher? he scrape a Trencher?
When good manners, shall lie in one or two mens hands, and they vnwasht too, 'tis a foule thing.
Away with the Ioynstooles, remoue the Court- cubbord, looke to the Plate: good thou, saue mee a piece of Marchpane, and as thou louest me, let the Porter let in
Susan Grindstone,
and
Nell, Anthonie
and
Potpan.
I
Boy readie.
You are lookt for, and cal'd for, askt for, & sought for, in the great Chamber.
We cannot be here and there too, chearly Boyes, Be brisk awhile, and the longer liuer take all.
Exeunt.
Enter all the Guests and Gentlewomen to the Maskers.
Welcome Gentlemen, Ladies that haue their toes Vnplagu'd with Cornes, will walke about with you: Ah my Mistresses, which of you all Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty, She Ile sweare hath Cornes: am I come neare ye now? Welcome Gentlemen, I haue seene the day That I haue worne a Visor, and could tell A whispering tale in a faire Ladies eare: Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone, You are welcome Gentlemen, come Musitians play:
Musicke plaies: and they dance.
A Hall, Hall, giue roome, and foote it Girles, More light you knaues, and turne the Tables vp: And quench the fire, the Roome is growne too hot. Ah sirrah, this vnlookt for sport comes well: Nay sit, nay sit, good Cozin
Capulet,
For you and I are past our dauncing daies: How long 'ist now since last your selfe and I Were in a Maske?
Berlady thirty yeares.
What man: 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much, 'Tis since the Nuptiall of
Lucentio,
Come Pentycost as quickely as it will, Some fiue and twenty yeares, and then we Maskt.
'Tis more, 'tis more, his Sonne is elder sir: His Sonne is thirty.
Will you tell me that? His Sonne was but a Ward two yeares agoe.
What Ladie is that which doth inrich the hand Of yonder Knight?
I know not sir.
O she doth teach the Torches to burne bright: It seemes she hangs vpon the cheeke of night, As a rich Iewel in an Aethiops eare: Beauty too rich for vse, for earth too deare: So shewes a Snowy Doue trooping with Crowes, As yonder Lady ore her fellowes showes; The measure done, Ile watch her place of stand, And touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart loue till now, forsweare it sight, For I neuer saw true Beauty till this night.
This by his voice, should be a
Mountague.
Fetch me my Rapier Boy, what dares the slaue Come hither couer'd with an antique face, To fleere and scorne at our Solemnitie? Now by the stocke and Honour of my kin, To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.
Why how now kinsman, Wherefore storme you so?
Vncle this is a
Mountague,
our foe: A Villaine that is hither come in spight, To scorne at our Solemnitie this night.
Young
Romeo
is it?
'Tis he, that Villaine
Romeo.
Content thee gentle Coz, let him alone,
A
beares him like a portly Gentleman: And to say truth,
Verona
brags of him, To be a vertuous and well gouern'd youth: I would not for the wealth of all the towne, Here in my house do him disparagement: Therfore be patient, take no note of him, It is my
will
, the which if thou respect, Shew a faire presence, and put off these frownes, An
ill
beseeming semblance for a Feast
It fits when such a Villaine is a guest, Ile not endure him.
He shall be endur'd. What goodman boy, I say he shall, go
too
, Am I the Maister here or you? go
too
, Youle not endure him, God shall mend my soule, Youle make a Mutinie among the Guests: You will set cocke
a
hoope, youle be the man.
Why Vncle, 'tis a shame.
Go
too
, go
too
, You are a sawcy Boy, 'ist so indeed? This tricke may chance to scath you, I know what, You must contrary me, marry 'tis time. Well said my hearts, you are a Princox, goe, Be quiet, or more light, more light for shame, Ile make you quiet. What, chearely my hearts.
Patience perforce, with wilfull choler meeting, Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting: I will withdraw, but this intrusion shall Now seeming sweet, conuert to bitter gall.
Exit.
If I prophane with my vnworthiest hand, This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this, My lips to blushing Pilgrims did ready stand, To smooth that rough touch, with a tender kisse.
Good Pilgrime, You do wrong your hand too much. Which mannerly deuotion shewes in this, For Saints haue hands, that Pilgrims hands do tuch, And palme to palme, is holy Palmers kisse.
Haue not Saints lips, and holy Palmers too?
I
Pilgrim, lips that they must vse in prayer.
O then deare Saint, let lips do what hands do, They pray (grant thou) least faith turne to dispaire.
Saints do not moue, Though grant for prayers sake.
Then moue not while my prayers effect I take: Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg'd.
Then haue my lips the sin that they haue tooke.
Sin from my lips? O trespasse sweetly vrg'd: Giue me my sin againe.
You kisse by'th' booke.
Madam your Mother craues a word with you.
What is her Mother?
Marrie Batcheler, Her Mother is the Lady of the house, And a good Lady, and a wise, and Vertuous, I Nur'st her Daughter that you talkt withall: I tell you, he that can lay hold of her, Shall haue the chincks.
Is she a
Capulet
? O deare account! My life is my foes debt.
Away, be gone, the sport is at the best.
I
so I feare, the more is my vnrest.
Nay Gentlemen prepare not to be gone, We haue a trifling foolish Banquet towards: Is it e'ne so? why then I thanke you all. I thanke you honest Gentlemen, good night: More Torches here: come on, then let's to bed. Ah sirrah, by my faie it waxes late, Ile to my rest.
Come hither Nurse, What is yond Gentleman:
The Sonne and Heire of old
Tyberio.
What's he that now is going out of doore?
Marrie that I thinke be young
Petruchio.
What's he that follows here that would not dance?
I know not.
Go aske his name: if he be married, My graue is like to be my wedded bed.
His name is
Romeo,
and a
Mountague,
The onely Sonne of your great Enemie.
My onely Loue sprung from my onely hate, Too early seene, vnknowne, and knowne too late, Prodigious birth of Loue it is to me, That I must loue a loathed Enemie.
What's this? whats this?
A rime, I learne euen now Of one I dan'st withall.
One cals within, Iuliet.
Anon, anon: Come let's away, the strangers all are gone.
Exeunt.
Now old desire doth in his death bed lie, And yong affection gapes to be his Heire, That faire, for which Loue gron'd for and would die, With tender
Iuliet
matcht, is now not faire. Now
Romeo
is beloued, and Loues againe,
A
like bewitched by the charme of lookes: But to his foe suppos'd he must complaine, And she steale Loues sweet bait from fearefull hookes: Being held a foe, he may not haue accesse To breath such vowes as Louers vse to sweare, And she as much in Loue, her meanes much lesse, To meete her new Beloued any where: But passion lends them Power, time, meanes to meete, Temp'ring extremities with extreame sweete.
Enter Romeo alone.
Can I goe forward when my heart is here? Turne backe dull earth, and find thy Center out.
Enter Benuolio, with Mercutio.
Romeo,
my Cozen
Romeo, Romeo.
He is wise, And on my life hath stolne him home to bed.
He ran this way and leapt this Orchard wall. Call good
Mercutio:
Nay, Ile coniure too.
Romeo,
Humours, Madman, Passion, Louer, Appeare thou in the likenesse of a sigh, Speake but one time, and I am satisfied: Cry me but ay me, Prouant, but Loue and day, Speake to my goship
Venus
one faire word, One Nickname for her purblind Sonne and her, Young
Abraham Cupid
he that shot so true, When King
Cophetua
lou'd the begger Maid, He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moueth not, The Ape is dead, I must coniure him, I coniure thee by
Rosalines
bright eyes, By her High forehead, and her Scarlet lip, By her Fine foote, Straight leg, and Quiuering thigh, And the Demeanes, that there Adiacent lie, That in thy likenesse thou appeare to vs.
And
if he heare thee thou wilt anger him.
This cannot anger him, t'would anger him To raise a spirit in his Mistresse circle, Of some strange nature, letting it stand Till she had laid it, and coniured it downe, That were some spight. My inuocation is faire and honest, & in his Mistris name, I coniure onely but to raise vp him.
Come, he hath hid himselfe among these Trees To be consorted with the Humerous night: Blind is his Loue, and best befits the darke.
If Loue be blind, Loue cannot hit the marke, Now will he sit vnder a Medler tree, And wish his Mistresse were that kind of Fruite, As Maides cal Medlers when they laugh alone, O
Romeo
that she were, O that she were An open, or thou a Poprin Peare,
Romeo
goodnight, Ile to my Truckle bed, This Field-bed is
to
cold for me to sleepe, Come shall we go?
Go then, for 'tis in vaine to seeke him here That meanes not to be found.
Exeunt.
He ieasts at Scarres that neuer felt a wound, But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and
Iuliet
is the Sunne, Arise faire Sun and kill the enuious Moone, Who is already sicke and pale with griefe, That thou her Maid art far more faire then she: Be not her Maid since she is enuious, Her Vestal liuery is but sicke and greene, And none but fooles do weare it, cast it off: It is my Lady, O it is my Loue, O that she knew she were, She speakes, yet she sayes nothing, what of that? Her eye discourses, I will answere it: I am too bold 'tis not to me she speakes: Two of the fairest starres in all the Heauen, Hauing some businesse do entreat her eyes, To twinckle in their Spheres till they returne. What if her eyes were there, they in her head, The brightnesse of her cheeke would shame those starres, As day-light doth a Lampe, her eye in heauen, Would through the ayrie Region streame so bright, That Birds would sing, and thinke it were not night: See how she leanes her cheeke vpon her hand. O that I were a Gloue vpon that hand, That I might touch that cheeke.
Ay me.
She speakes. Oh speake againe bright Angell, for thou art As glorious to this night being ore my head, As is a winged messenger of heauen Vnto the white vpturned wondring eyes Of mortalls that fall backe to gaze on him, When he bestrides the lazie puffing Cloudes, And sailes vpon the bosome of the ayre.
O
Romeo, Romeo,
wherefore art thou
Romeo
? Denie thy Father and refuse thy name: Or if thou wilt not, be but sworne to my Loue, And Ile no longer be a
Capulet.
Shall I heare more, or shall I speake at this?
'Tis but thy name that is my Enemy: Thou art thy selfe, though not a
Mountague,
What's
Mountague
? it is nor hand nor foote, Nor arme, nor face, O be some other name Belonging to a man. What? in a names that which we call a Rose, By any other word would smell as sweete, So
Romeo
would, were he not
Romeo
cal'd, Retaine that deare perfection which he owes, Without that title
Romeo,
doffe thy name, And for thy name which is no part of thee, Take all my selfe.
I take thee at thy word: Call me but Loue, and Ile be new baptiz'd, Hence foorth I neuer will be
Romeo.
What man art thou, that thus bescreen'd in night So stumblest on my counsell?
By a name, I know not how to tell thee who I am: My name deare Saint, is hatefull to my selfe, Because it is an Enemy to thee, Had I it written, I would teare the word.
My eares haue yet not drunke a hundred words Of thy tongues vttering, yet I know the sound. Art thou not
Romeo,
and a
Montague
?
Neither faire Maid, if either thee dislike.
How cam'st thou hither. Tell me, and wherefore? The Orchard walls are high, and hard to climbe, And the place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here,
With Loues light wings Did I ore-perch these Walls, For stony limits cannot hold Loue out, And what Loue can do, that dares Loue attempt: Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.
If they do see thee, they will murther thee.
Alacke there lies more perill in thine eye, Then twenty of their Swords, looke thou but sweete, And I am proofe against their enmity.
I would not for the world they saw thee here.
I haue nights cloake to hide me from their eyes
And
but thou loue me, let them finde me here, My life were better ended by their hate, Then death proroged wanting of thy Loue.
By whose direction found'st thou out this place?
By Loue that first did prompt me to enquire, He lent me counsell, and I lent him eyes, I am no Pylot, yet wert thou as far As that vast-shore-washet with the farthest Sea, I should aduenture for such Marchandise.
Thou knowest the maske of night is on my face, Else would a Maiden blush bepaint my cheeke, For that which thou hast heard me speake to night, Faine would I dwell on forme, faine, faine, denie What I haue spoke, but farewell Complement, Doest thou Loue? I know thou wilt say
I
, And I will take thy word, yet if thou swear'st, Thou maiest proue false: at Louers periuries They say
Ioue
laught, oh gentle
Romeo,
If thou dost Loue, pronounce it faithfully: Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly wonne, Ile frowne and be peruerse, and say thee nay, So thou wilt wooe: But else not for the world. In truth faire
Mountague
I am too fond: And therefore thou maiest thinke my behauiour light, But trust me Gentleman, Ile proue more true, Then those that haue coying to be strange, I should haue beene more strange, I must confesse, But that thou ouer heard'st ere I was ware My true Loues passion, therefore pardon me, And not impute this yeelding to light Loue, Which the darke night hath so discouered.
Lady, by yonder Moone I vow, That tips with siluer all these Fruite tree tops.
O sweare not by the Moone, th' inconstant Moone, That monethly changes in her circled Orbe, Least that thy Loue proue likewise variable.
What shall I sweare by?
Do not sweare at all: Or if thou wilt sweare by thy gratious selfe, Which is the God of my Idolatry, And Ile beleeue thee.
If my hearts deare loue.
Well do not sweare, although I ioy in thee: I haue no ioy of this contract to night, It is too rash, too vnaduis'd, too sudden, Too like the lightning which doth cease to be Ere, one can say, it lightens, Sweete good night: This bud of Loue by Summers ripening breath, May proue a beautious Flower when next we meete: Goodnight, goodnight, as sweete repose and rest, Come to thy heart, as that within my brest.
O wilt thou leaue me so vnsatisfied?
What satisfaction can'st thou haue to night?
Th' exchange of thy Loues faithfull vow for mine.
I gaue thee mine before thou did'st request it: And yet I would it were to giue againe.
Would'st thou withdraw it, For what purpose Loue?
But to be franke and giue it thee againe, And yet I wish but for the thing I haue, My bounty is as boundlesse as the Sea, My Loue as deepe, the more I giue to thee The more I haue, for both are Infinite: I heare some noyse within deare Loue adue:
Cals within.
Anon good Nurse, sweet
Mountague
be true: Stay but a little, I will come againe.
O blessed blessed night, I am afear'd Being in night, all this is but a dreame, Too flattering sweet to be substantiall.
Three words deare
Romeo,
And goodnight indeed, If that thy bent of Loue be Honourable, Thy purpose marriage, send me word to morrow, By one that Ile procure to come to thee, Where and what time thou wilt performe the right, And all my Fortunes at thy foote Ile lay, And follow thee my Lord throughout the world.
Madam. I come, anon: but if thou meanest not well, I do beseech thee
Madam. (By and
by
I come) To cease thy strife, and leaue me to my griefe, To morrow will I send.
So thriue my soule.
A thousand times goodnight.
Exit.
A thousand times the worse to want thy light, Loue goes toward Loue as school-boyes fro[m] their books But Loue fro[m] Loue, towards schoole with heauie lookes.
Enter Iuliet againe.
Hist
Romeo
hist: O for a Falkners voice, To lure this Tassell gentle backe againe, Bondage is hoarse, and may not speake aloud, Else would I teare the Caue where Eccho lies, And make her ayrie tongue more hoarse, then With repetition of my
Romeo.
It is my soule that calls vpon my name. How siluer sweet, sound Louers tongues by night, Like softest Musicke to attending eares.
Romeo.
My Neece.
What
a
clock to morrow Shall I send to thee?
By the houre of nine.
I will not faile, 'tis twenty yeares till then, I haue forgot why I did call thee backe.
Let me stand here till thou remember it.
I shall forget, to haue thee still stand there, Remembring how I Loue thy company.
And Ile still stay, to haue thee still forget, Forgetting any other home but this.
'Tis almost morning, I would haue thee gone, And yet no further then a wantons Bird, That let's it hop a little from his hand, Like a poore prisoner in his twisted Gyues, And with a silken thred plucks it backe againe, So louing Iealous of his liberty.
I would I were thy Bird.
Sweet so would I, Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing: Good night, good night.
Parting is such sweete sorrow, That I shall say goodnight, till it be morrow.
Sleepe dwell vpon thine eyes, peace in thy brest.
Would I were sleepe and peace so sweet to rest, The gray ey'd morne smiles on the frowning night, Checkring the Easterne Clouds with streakes of light, And darkenesse fleckel'd like a drunkard reeles, From forth dayes pathway, made by
Titans
wheeles. Hence will I to my ghostly Friers close Cell, His helpe to craue, and my deare hap to tell.
Exit.
Enter Frier alone with a basket.
The gray ey'd morne smiles on the frowning night, Checkring the Easterne Cloudes with streaks of light: And fleckled darknesse like a drunkard reeles, From forth daies path, and
Titans
burning wheeles: Now ere the Sun aduance his burning eye, The day to cheere, and nights danke dew to dry, I must vpfill this Osier Cage of ours, With balefull weedes, and precious Iuiced flowers, The earth that's Natures mother, is her Tombe, What is her burying graue that is her wombe: And from her wombe children of diuers kind We sucking on her naturall bosome find: Many for many vertues excellent: None but for some, and yet all different. O mickle is the powerfull grace that lies In Plants, Hearbs, stones, and their true qualities: For nought so vile, that on earth doth liue, But to the earth some speciall good doth giue. Nor ought so good, but strain'd from that faire vse, Reuolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse. Vertue it selfe turnes vice being misapplied, And vice sometime by action dignified.
Enter Romeo.
Within the infant rind of this weake flower, Poyson hath residence, and medicine power: For this being smelt, with that part cheares each part, Being tasted stayes all sences with the heart. Two such opposed Kings encampe them still, In man as well as Hearbes, grace and rude will: And where the worser is predominant, Full soone the Canker death eates vp that Plant.
Good morrow Father.
Benedecite. What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? Young Sonne, it argues a distempered head, So soone to bid goodmorrow to thy bed; Care keepes his watch in euery old mans eye, And where Care lodges, sleepe will neuer lye: But where vnbrused youth with vnstuft braine Doth couch his lims, there, golden sleepe doth raigne; Therefore thy earlinesse doth me assure, Thou art vprous'd with some distemprature; Or if not so, then here I hit it right. Our
Romeo
hath not beene in bed to night.
That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine.
God pardon sin: wast thou with
Rosaline
?
With
Rosaline,
my ghostly Father? No, I haue forgot that name, and that names woe.
That's my good Son, but wher hast thou bin then?
Ile tell thee ere thou aske it me agen: I haue beene feasting with mine enemie, Where on a sudden one hath wounded me, That's by me wounded: both our remedies Within thy helpe and holy phisicke lies: I beare no hatred, blessed man: for loe My intercession likewise steads my foe.
Be plaine good Son, rest homely in thy drift, Ridling confession, findes but ridling shrift.
Then plainly know my hearts deare Loue is set, On the faire daughter of rich
Capulet:
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine; And all combin'd, saue what thou must combine By holy marriage: when and where, and how, We met, we wooed, and made exchange of vow: Ile tell thee as we passe, but this I pray, That thou consent to marrie vs to day.
Holy S[aint].
Francis,
what a change is heere? Is
Rosaline
that thou didst Loue so deare So soone forsaken? young mens Loue then lies Not truely in their hearts, but in their eyes. Iesu
Maria,
what a deale of brine Hath washt thy sallow cheekes for
Rosaline
? How much salt water throwne away in
wast
, To season Loue that of it doth not tast. The Sun not yet thy sighes, from heauen cleares, Thy old grones yet ringing in my auncient eares: Lo here vpon thy cheeke the staine doth sit, Of an old teare that is not washt off yet. If ere thou wast thy selfe, and these woes thine, Thou and these woes, were all for
Rosaline.
And art thou chang'd? pronounce this sentence then, Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.
Thou chid'st me oft for louing
Rosaline.
For doting, not for louing pupill mine.
And bad'st me bury Loue.
Not in a graue, To lay one in, another out to haue.
I pray thee chide me not, her I Loue now Doth grace for grace, and Loue for Loue allow: The other did not so.
O she knew well, Thy Loue did read by rote, that could not spell: But come young wauerer, come goe with me, In one respect, Ile thy assistant be: For this alliance may so happy proue, To turne your houshould rancor to pure Loue.
O let vs hence, I stand on sudden
hast
.
Wisely and slow, they stumble that run fast.
Exeunt
Enter Benuolio and Mercutio.
Where the deule should this
Romeo
be? came he not home to night?
Not to his Fathers, I spoke with his man.
Why that same pale hard-harted wench, that
Ro-saline
torments him so, that he will sure run mad.
Tibalt,
the kinsman to old
Capulet,
hath sent a Let- ter to his Fathers house.
A challenge on my life.
Romeo
will answere it.
Any man that can write, may answere a Letter.
Nay, he will answere the Letters Maister how he dares, being dared.
Alas poore
Romeo,
he is already dead stab'd with a white wenches blacke eye, runne through the eare with a Loue song, the very pinne of his heart, cleft with the blind Bowe-boyes but-shaft, and is he a man to encounter
Tybalt
?
Why what is
Tibalt
?
More then Prince of Cats. Oh hee's the Couragi- ous Captaine of Complements: he fights as you sing pricksong, keeps time, distance, and proportion, he rests his minum, one, two, and the third in your bosom: the ve- ry butcher of a silk button, a Dualist, a Dualist: a Gentleman of the very first house of the first and second cause: ah the immortall Passado, the Punto reuerso, the Hay.
The what?
The Pox of such antique lisping affecting phan- tacies, these new tuners of accent: Iesu a very good blade, a very tall man, a very good whore. Why is not this a la- mentable thing Grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies: these fashion Mongers, these par-don-mee's, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench. O their bones, their bones.
Enter Romeo.
Here comes
Romeo,
here comes
Romeo.
Without his Roe, like a dryed Hering. O flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified? Now is he for the numbers that
Petrarch
flowed in:
Laura
to his Lady, was a kitchen wench, marrie she had a better Loue to berime her:
Dido
a dowdie,
Cleopatra
a Gipsie,
Hellen
and
Hero,
hildings and Harlots:
Thisbie
a gray eie or so, but not to the purpose. Signior
Romeo, Bon iour,
there's a French salutation to your French slop: you gaue vs the counterfait fairely last night.
Good morrow to you both, what counterfeit did I giue you?
The slip sir, the slip, can you not conceiue?
Pardon
Mercutio,
my businesse was great, and in such a case as mine, a man may straine curtesie.
That's as much as to say, such a case as yours con- strains a man to bow in the hams.
Meaning to cursie.
Thou hast most kindly hit it.
A most curteous exposition.
Nay, I am the very pinck of curtesie.
Pinke for flower.
Right.
Why then is my Pump well flowr'd.
Sure wit, follow me this ieast, now till thou hast worne out thy Pump, that when the single sole of it is worne, the ieast may remaine after the wearing, sole-singular.
O single sol'd ieast, Soly singular for the singlenesse.
Come betweene vs good
Benuolio,
my wits faints.
Swits and spurs, Swits and spurs, or Ile crie a match.
Nay, if our wits run the Wild-Goose chase, I am done: For thou hast more of the Wild-Goose in one of thy wits, then I am sure I haue in my whole fiue. Was I with you there for the Goose?
Thou wast neuer with mee for any thing, when thou wast not there for the Goose.
I will bite thee by the eare for that iest.
Nay, good Goose bite not.
Thy wit is a very Bitter-sweeting, It is a most sharpe sawce.
And is it not well seru'd into a Sweet-Goose?
Oh here's a wit of Cheuerell, that stretches from an ynch narrow, to an ell broad.
I stretch it out for that word, broad, which added to the Goose, proues thee farre and wide, abroad Goose.
Why is not this better now, then groning for Loue, now art thou sociable, now art thou
Romeo:
now art thou what thou art, by
Art
as well as by Nature, for this driueling Loue is like a great Naturall, that runs lolling vp and downe to hid his bable in a hole.
Stop there, stop there.
Thou desir'st me to stop in my tale against the
haire
.
Thou would'st else haue made thy tale large.
O thou art deceiu'd, I would haue made it short, or I was come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant indeed to occupie the argument no longer.
Enter Nurse and her man.
Here's a goodly geare. A sayle, a sayle.
Two, two: a Shirt and a Smocke.
Peter
?
Anon.
My Fan
Peter
?
Good
Peter
to hide her face? For her Fans the fairer face?
God ye good morrow Gentlemen.
God ye gooden faire Gentlewoman.
Is it gooden?
'Tis no lesse I tell you: for the bawdy hand of the Dyall is now vpon the pricke of Noone.
Out vpon you: what a man are you?
One Gentlewoman, That God hath made, himselfe to mar.
By my troth it is said, for himselfe to, mar qua- tha: Gentlemen, can any of you tel me where I may find the young
Romeo
?
I can tell you: but young
Romeo
will be older when you haue found him, then he was when you sought him: I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse.
You say well.
Yea is the worst well, Very well tooke: Ifaith, wisely, wisely.
If you be he sir, I desire some confidence with you?
She will endite him to some Supper.
A baud, a baud, a baud. So ho.
What hast thou found?
No Hare sir, vnlesse a Hare sir in a Lenten pie, that is something stale and hoare ere it be spent. An old Hare hoare, and an old Hare hoare is very good meat in Lent. But a Hare that is hoare is too much for a score, when it hoares ere it be spent,
Romeo
will you come to your Fathers? Weele to dinner thither.
I will follow you.
Farewell auncient Lady: Farewell Lady, Lady, Lady.
Exit. Mercutio, Benuolio.
I pray you sir, what sawcie Merchant was this that was so full of his roperie?
A Gentleman Nurse, that loues to heare himselfe talke, and will speake more in a minute, then he will stand to in a Moneth.
And
a
speake any thing against me, Ile take him downe,
z
a
were lustier then he is, and twentie such Iacks: and if I cannot, Ile finde those that shall: scuruie knaue, I am none of his flurt-gils, I am none of his skaines mates, and thou must stand by too and suffer euery knaue to vse me at his pleasure.
I saw no man vse you at his pleasure: if I had, my weapon should quickly haue beene out, I warrant you, I dare draw assoone as another man, if I see occasion in a good quarrell, and the law on my side.
Now afore God, I am so vext, that euery part about me quiuers, skuruy knaue: pray you sir a word: and as I told you, my young Lady bid me enquire you out, what she bid me say, I will keepe to my selfe: but first let me tell ye, if ye should leade her in a fooles paradise, as they say, it were a very grosse kind of behauiour, as they say: for the Gentlewoman is yong: & therefore, if you should deale double with her, truely it were an
ill
thing to be of- fered to any Gentlewoman, and very weake dealing.
Nurse commend me to thy Lady and Mistresse, I protest vnto thee.
Good heart, and yfaith I will tell her as much: Lord, Lord she will be a ioyfull woman.
What wilt thou tell her Nurse? thou doest not marke me?
I will tell her sir, that you do protest, which as I take it, is a Gentleman-like offer.
Bid her deuise some meanes to come to shrift this
afternoone
, And there she shall at Frier
Lawrence
Cell Be shriu'd and married: here is for thy paines.
No truly sir not a penny.
Go
too
, I say you shall.
This afternoone sir? well she shall be there.
And stay thou good Nurse behind the Abbey wall, Within this houre my man shall be with thee, And bring thee Cords made like a tackled staire, Which to the high top gallant of my ioy, Must be my conuoy in the secret night. Farewell, be trustie and Ile quite thy paines: Farewell, commend me to thy Mistresse.
Now God in heauen blesse thee: harke you sir,
What saist thou my deare Nurse?
Is your man secret, did you nere heare say two may keepe counsell putting one away.
Warrant thee my man is true as steele.
Well sir, my Mistresse is the sweetest Lady, Lord, Lord, when 'twas a little prating thing. O there is a No- ble man in Towne one
Paris,
that would faine lay knife a- board: but she good soule had as leeue see a Toade, a very Toade as see him: I anger her sometimes, and tell her that
Paris
is the properer man, but Ile warrant you, when I say so, shee lookes as pale as any clout in the versall world. Doth not Rosemarie and
Romeo
begin both with a letter?
I
Nurse, what of that? Both with an
R
A
mocker that's the dogs name.
R.
is for the no, I know it begins with some other letter, and she hath the prettiest sententious of it, of you and Rosemary, that it would do you good to heare it.
Commend me to thy Lady.
I
a thousand times.
Peter
?
Anon.
Before and apace.
Exit Nurse and Peter.
Enter Iuliet.
The clocke strook nine, when I did send the Nurse, In halfe an houre she promised to returne, Perchance she cannot meete him: that's not so: Oh she is lame, Loues Herauld should be thoughts, Which ten times faster glides then the Sunnes beames, Driuing backe shadowes ouer lowring hils. Therefore do nimble Pinion'd Doues draw Loue, And therefore hath the wind-swift
Cupid
wings: Now is the Sun vpon the highmost hill Of this daies iourney, and from nine till twelue, Is three long houres, yet she is not come. Had she affections and warme youthfull blood, She would be as swift in motion as a ball, My words would bandy her to my sweete Loue, And his to me, but old folkes, Many faine as they were dead, Vnwieldie, slow, heauy, and pale as lead.
Enter Nurse.
O God she comes, O hony Nurse what newes? Hast thou met with him? send thy man away.
Peter
stay at the gate.
Now good sweet Nurse: O Lord, why lookest thou sad? Though newes, be sad, yet tell them merrily. If good thou sham'st the musicke of sweet newes, By playing it to me, with so sower a face.
I am
a
weary, giue me leaue awhile, Fie how my bones ake, what a iaunt haue I had?
I would thou had'st my bones, and I thy newes: Nay come I pray thee speake, good good Nurse speake.
Iesu what
hast
? can you not stay
a
while? Do you not see that I am out of breath?
How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breth To say to me, that thou art out of breath? The excuse that thou dost make in this delay, Is longer then the tale thou dost excuse. Is thy newes good or bad? answere to that, Say either, and Ile stay the circumstance: Let me be satisfied, ist good or bad?
Well, you haue made a simple choice, you know not how to chuse a man:
Romeo,
no not he though his face be better then any mans, yet his legs excels all mens, and for a hand, and a foote, and a body, though they be not to be talkt on, yet they are past compare: he is not the flower of curtesie, but Ile warrant him as gentle a Lambe: go thy waies wench, serue God. What haue you din'd at home?
No no: but all this did I know before What saies he of our marriage? what of that?
Lord how my head akes, what a head haue I? It beates as it would fall in twenty peeces. My backe
a
tother side: o my backe, my backe: Beshrew your heart for sending me about To catch my death with iaunting vp and downe.
Ifaith: I am sorrie that thou art so well. Sweet sweet, sweet Nurse, tell me what saies my Loue?
Your Loue saies like an honest Gentleman, And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, And I warrant a vertuous: where is your Mother?
Where is my Mother? Why she is within, where should she be? How odly thou repli'st: Your Loue saies like an honest Gentleman: Where is your Mother?
O Gods Lady deare, Are you so hot? marrie come vp I trow, Is this the Poultis for my aking bones? Henceforward do your messages your selfe.
Heere's such a coile, come what saies
Romeo
?
Haue you got leaue to go to shift to day?
I haue.
Then high you hence to Frier
Lawrence
Cell, There staies a Husband to make you a wife: Now comes the wanton bloud vp in your cheekes, Thei'le be in Scarlet straight at any newes: Hie you to Church, I must an other way, To fetch a Ladder by the which your Loue Must climde a birds nest Soone when it is darke: I am the drudge, and toile in your delight: But you shall beare the burthen soone at night. Go Ile to dinner, hie you to the Cell.
Hie to high Fortune, honest Nurse, farewell.
Exeunt.
Enter Frier and Romeo.
So smile the heauens vpon this holy act, That after houres, with sorrow chide vs not.
Amen, amen, but come what sorrow can, It cannot counteruaile the exchange of ioy That one short minute giues me in her sight: Do thou but close our hands with holy words. Then Loue-deuouring death do what he dare, It is inough. I may call her mine.
These violent delights haue violent endes, And in their triumph: die like fire and powder; Which as they kisse consume. The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his owne deliciousnesse, And in the taste confoundes the appetite. Therefore Loue moderately, long Loue doth so, Too swift arriues as tardie as too slow.
Enter Iuliet.
Here comes the Lady. Oh so light a foot Will nere weare out the euerlasting flint, A Louer may bestride the Gossamours, That ydles in the wanton Summer ayre, And yet not fall, so light is vanitie.
Good euen to my ghostly Confessor.
Romeo
shall thanke thee Daughter for vs both.
As much to him, else in his thanks too much.
Ah
Iuliet,
if the measure of thy ioy Be heapt like mine, and that thy skill be more To blason it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour ayre, and let rich musickes tongue, Vnfold the imagin'd happinesse that both Receiue in either, by this deere encounter.
Conceit more rich in matter then in words, Brags of his substance, not of Ornament: They are but beggers that can count their worth, But my true Loue is growne to such excesse, I cannot sum vp some of halfe my wealth.
Come, come with me, & we will make short worke, For by your leaues, you shall not stay alone, Till holy Church incorporate two in one.
Enter Mercutio, Benuolio, and men.
I pray thee good
Mercutio
lets retire, The day is hot, the
Capulets
abroad:
And
if we meet, we shal not scape a brawle, for now these hot dayes, is the mad blood stirring.
Thou art like one of these fellowes, that when he enters the confines of a Tauerne, claps me his Sword vpon the Table, and sayes, God send me no need of thee: and by the operation of the second cup, drawes him on the Draw- er, when indeed there is no need.
Am I like such a Fellow?
Come, come, thou art as hot a Iacke in thy mood, as any in
Italie:
and assoone moued to be moodie, and as- soone moodie to be mou'd.
And what
too
?
Nay,
and
there were two such, we should haue none shortly, for one would kill the other: thou, why thou wilt quarrell with a man that hath a haire more, or a haire lesse in his beard, then thou hast: thou wilt quarrell with a man for cracking Nuts, hauing no other reason, but be- cause thou hast hasell eyes: what eye, but such an eye, would spie out such a quarrell? thy head is full of quar- rels, as an egge is full of meat, and yet thy head hath bin beaten as addle as an egge for quarreling: thou hast quar-rel'd with a man for coffing in the street, because he hath wakened thy Dog that hath laine asleepe in the Sun. Did'st thou not fall out with a Tailor for wearing his new Doub- let before Easter? with another, for tying his new shooes with old Riband, and yet thou wilt Tutor me from quar- relling?
And
I were so apt to quarell as thou art, any man should buy the Fee-simple of my life, for an houre and a quarter.
The Fee-simple? O simple.
Enter Tybalt, Petruchio, and others.
By my head here comes the
Capulets.
By my
heele
I care not.
Follow me close, for I will speake to them. Gentlemen, Good den, a word with one of you.
And
but one word with one of vs? couple it with something, make it a word and a blow.
You shall find me apt inough to that sir,
and
you will giue me occasion.
Could you not take some occasion without giuing?
Mercutio
thou consort'st with
Romeo.
Consort? what dost thou make vs Minstrels? & thou make Minstrels of vs, looke to heare nothing but dis- cords: heere's my fiddlesticke, heere's that shall make you daunce. Come consort.
We talke here in the publike haunt of men, Either withdraw vnto some priuate place, Or reason coldly of your greeuances: Or else depart, here all eies gaze on vs.
Mens eyes were made to looke, and let them gaze. I will not budge for no mans pleasure I.
Enter Romeo.
Well peace be with you sir, here comes my man.
But Ile be hang'd sir if he weare your Liuery. Marry go before to field, heele be your follower, Your worship in that sense, may call him man.
Romeo,
the loue I beare thee, can affoord No better terme then this: Thou art a Villaine.
Tibalt,
the reason that I haue to loue thee, Doth much excuse the appertaining rage To such a greeting: Villaine am I none; Therefore farewell, I see thou know'st me not.
Boy, this shall not excuse the iniuries That thou hast done me, therefore turne and draw.
I do protest I neuer iniur'd thee, But lou'd thee better then thou can'st deuise: Till thou shalt know the reason of my loue, And so good
Capulet,
which name I tender As dearely as my owne, be satisfied.
O calme, dishonourable, vile submission:
Alla stucatho
carries it away.
Tybalt,
you Rat-catcher, will you walke?
What wouldst thou haue with me?
Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine liues, that I meane to make bold withall, and as you shall vse me hereafter dry beate the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your Sword out of his Pilcher by the eares? Make
hast
, least mine be about your eares ere it be out.
I am for you.
Gentle
Mercutio,
put thy Rapier vp.
Come sir, your Passado.
Draw
Benuolio,
beat downe their weapons: Gentlemen, for shame forbeare this outrage,
Tibalt, Mercutio,
the Prince expresly hath Forbidden bandying in
Verona
streetes. Hold
Tybalt,
good
Mercutio.
Exit Tybalt.
I am hurt. A plague
a
both the Houses, I am sped: Is he gone and hath nothing?
What art thou hurt?
I
,
I
, a scratch, a scratch, marry 'tis inough, Where is my Page? go Villaine fetch a Surgeon.
Courage man, the hurt cannot be much.
No: 'tis not so deepe as a
well
, nor so wide as a Church doore, but 'tis inough, 'twill serue: aske for me to morrow, and you shall find me a graue man. I am pepper'd I warrant, for this world: a plague
a
both your houses. What, a Dog, a Rat, a Mouse, a Cat to scratch a man to death: a Braggart, a Rogue, a Villaine, that fights by the booke of Arithmeticke, why the deu'le came you be- tweene vs? I was hurt vnder your arme.
I thought all for the best.
Helpe me into some house
Benuolio,
Or I shall faint: a plague
a
both your houses. They haue made wormesmeat of me, I haue it, and soundly to your Houses.
Exit.
This Gentleman the Princes neere Alie, My very Friend hath got his mortall hurt In my behalfe, my reputation stain'd With
Tibalts
slaunder,
Tybalt
that an houre Hath beene my Cozin: O Sweet
Iuliet,
Thy Beauty hath made me Effeminate, And in my temper softned Valours steele.
Enter Benuolio.
O
Romeo, Romeo,
braue
Mercutio
's is dead, That Gallant spirit hath aspir'd the Cloudes, Which too vntimely here did scorne the earth.
This daies blacke Fate, on mo daies depend, This but begins, the wo others must end.
Enter Tybalt.
Here comes the Furious
Tybalt
backe againe.
He gon in triumph, and
Mercutio
slaine? Away to heauen respectiue Lenitie, And fire and Fury, be my conduct now. Now
Tybalt
take the Villaine backe againe That late thou gau'st me, for
Mercutios
soule Is but a little way aboue our heads, Staying for thine to keepe him companie: Either thou or I, or both, must goe with him.
Thou wretched Boy that didst consort him here, Shalt with him hence.
This shall determine that.
They fight. Tybalt falles.
Romeo,
away be gone: The Citizens are vp, and
Tybalt
slaine, Stand not amaz'd, the Prince will Doome thee death If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away.
O! I am Fortunes foole.
Why dost thou stay?
Exit Romeo.
Enter Citizens.
Which way ran he that kild
Mercutio
?
that Murtherer, which way ran he?
There lies that
Tybalt.
Vp sir go with me: I charge thee in the Princes names obey.
Enter Prince, old Montague, Capulet, their Wiues and all.
Where are the vile beginners of this Fray?
O Noble Prince, I can discouer all The vnluckie Mannage of this fatall brall: There lies the man slaine by young
Romeo,
That slew thy kinsman braue
Mercutio.
Tybalt,
my Cozin? O my Brothers Child, O Prince, O Cozin, Husband, O the blood is spild Of my deare kinsman. Prince as thou art true, For bloud of ours, shed bloud of
Mountague.
O Cozin, Cozin.
Benuolio,
who began this Fray?
Tybalt
here slaine, whom
Romeo's
hand did slay,
Romeo
that spoke him faire, bid him bethinke How nice the Quarrell was, and vrg'd withall Your high displeasure: all this vttered, With gentle breath, calme looke, knees humbly bow'd Could not take truce with the vnruly spleene Of
Tybalts
deafe to peace, but that he Tilts With Peircing steele at bold
Mercutio's
breast, Who all as hot, turnes deadly point to point, And with a Martiall scorne, with one hand beates Cold death aside, and with the other sends It back to
Tybalt,
whose dexterity Retorts it:
Romeo
he cries aloud, Hold Friends, Friends part, and swifter then his tongue, His aged arme, beats downe their fatall points, And twixt them rushes, vnderneath whose arme, An enuious thrust from
Tybalt,
hit the life Of stout
Mercutio,
and then
Tybalt
fled. But
by
and by comes backe to
Romeo,
Who had but newly entertained Reuenge, And too't they goe like lightning, for ere I Could draw to part them, was stout
Tybalt
slaine: And as he fell, did
Romeo
turne and flie: This is the truth, or let
Benuolio
die.
He is a kinsman to the
Mountague,
Affection makes him false, he speakes not true: Some twenty of them fought in this blacke strife, And all those twenty could but kill one life. I beg for Iustice, which thou Prince must giue:
Romeo
slew
Tybalt, Romeo
must not liue.
Romeo
slew him, he slew
Mercutio,
Who now the price of his deare blood doth owe.
Not
Romeo
Prince, he was
Mercutios
Friend, His fault concludes, but what the law should end, The life of
Tybalt.
And for that offence, Immediately we doe exile him hence: I haue an interest in your hearts proceeding: My bloud for your rude brawles doth lie
a
bleeding. But Ile Amerce you with so strong a fine, That you shall all repent the losse of mine. It will be deafe to pleading and excuses, Nor teares, nor prayers shall purchase our abuses. Therefore vse none, let
Romeo
hence in
hast
, Else when he is found, that houre is his last. Beare hence his body, and attend our
will
: Mercy not Murders, pardoning those that kill.
Exeunt.
Enter Iuliet alone.
Gallop apace, you fiery footed steedes, Towards
Phoebus
lodging, such a Wagoner As
Phaeton
would whip you to the west, And bring in Cloudie night immediately. Spred thy close Curtaine Loue-performing night, That run-awayes eyes may wincke, and
Romeo
Leape to these armes, vntalkt of and vnseene, Louers can see to doe their Amorous rights, And by their owne Beauties: or if Loue be blind, It best agrees with night: come ciuill night, Thou sober suted Matron all in blacke, And learne me how to loose a winning match, Plaid for a paire of stainlesse Maidenhoods, Hood my vnman'd blood bayting in my Cheekes, With thy Blacke mantle, till strange Loue grow bold, Thinke true Loue acted simple modestie: Come night, come
Romeo,
come thou day in night, For thou wilt lie vpon the wings of night Whiter then new Snow vpon a Rauens backe: Come gentle night, come louing blackebrow'd night. Giue me my
Romeo,
and when I shall die, Take him and cut him out in little starres, And he will make the Face of heauen so fine, That all the world will be in Loue with night, And pay no worship to the Garish Sun. O I haue bought the Mansion of a Loue, But not possest it, and though I am sold, Not yet enioy'd, so tedious is this day, As is the night before some Festiuall, To an impatient child that hath new robes And may not weare them, O here comes my Nurse:
Enter Nurse with cords.
And she brings newes and euery tongue that speaks But
Romeos
name, speakes heauenly eloquence: Now Nurse, what newes? what hast thou there? The Cords that
Romeo
bid thee fetch?
I
,
I
, the Cords.
Ay me, what newes? Why dost thou wring thy hands.
A
weladay, hee's dead, hee's dead, We are vndone Lady, we are vndone. Alacke the day, hee's gone, hee's kil'd, he's dead.
Can heauen be so enuious?
Romeo
can, Though heauen cannot. O
Romeo, Romeo.
Who euer would haue thought it
Romeo.
What diuell art thou, That dost torment me thus? This torture should be roar'd in dismall
hell
, Hath
Romeo
slaine himselfe? say thou but
I
, And that bare vowell I shall poyson more Then the death-darting eye of Cockatrice, I am not I, if there be such an
I
. Or those eyes shot, that makes thee answere
I
: If he be slaine say
I
, or if not, no. Briefe, sounds, determine of my weale or wo.
I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes, God saue the marke, here on his manly brest, A pitteous Coarse, a bloody piteous Coarse: Pale, pale as ashes, all bedawb'd in blood, All in gore blood I sounded at the sight.
O breake my heart, Poore Banckrout breake at once, To prison eyes, nere looke on libertie. Vile earth to earth resigne, end motion here, And thou and
Romeo
presse
on
heauie beere.
O
Tybalt, Tybalt,
the best Friend I had: O curteous
Tybalt
honest Gentleman, That euer I should liue to see thee dead.
What storme is this that blowes so contrarie? Is
Romeo
slaughtred? and is
Tybalt
dead? My dearest Cozen, and my dearer Lord: Then dreadfull Trumpet sound the generall doome, For who is liuing, if those two are gone?
Tybalt
is gone, and
Romeo
banished,
Romeo
that kil'd him, he is banished.
O God! Did
Romeo's
hand shed
Tybalts
blood It did, it did, alas the day, it did.
O Serpent heart hid with a flowring face.
Did euer Dragon keepe so faire a Caue? Beautifull Tyrant, fiend Angelicall: Rauenous Doue-feather'd Rauen, Woluish-rauening Lambe, Dispised substance of Diuinest show: Iust opposite to what thou iustly seem'st, A dimne Saint, an Honourable Villaine: O Nature! what had'st thou to doe in
hell
, When thou did'st bower the spirit of a fiend In mortall paradise of such sweet flesh? Was euer booke containing such vile matter So fairely bound? O that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous Pallace.
There's no trust, no faith, no honestie in men, All periur'd, all forsworne, all naught, all dissemblers, Ah where's my man? giue me some Aqua-vitae? These griefes, these woes, these sorrowes make me old: Shame come to
Romeo.
Blister'd be thy tongue For such a wish, he was not borne to shame: Vpon his brow shame is asham'd to sit; For 'tis a throane where Honour may be Crown'd Sole Monarch of the vniuersall earth: O what a beast was I to chide him?
Will you speake well of him, That kil'd your Cozen?
Shall I speake
ill
of him that is my husband? Ah poore my Lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, When I thy three houres wife haue mangled it. But wherefore Villaine did'st thou kill my Cozin? That Villaine Cozin would haue kil'd my husband: Backe foolish teares, backe to your natiue spring, Your tributarie drops belong to woe, Which you mistaking offer vp to ioy: My husband liues that
Tibalt
would haue slaine, And
Tibalt
dead that would haue slaine my husband: All this is comfort, wherefore weepe I then? Some words there was worser then
Tybalts
death That murdered me, I would forget it feine, But oh, it presses to my memory, Like damned guilty deedes to sinners minds,
Tybalt
is dead and
Romeo
banished: That banished, that one word banished, Hath slaine ten thousand
Tibalts: Tibalts
death Was woe inough if it had ended there: Or if sower woe delights in fellowship, And needly will be rankt with other griefes, Why followed not when she said
Tibalt
s dead, Thy Father or thy Mother, nay or both, Which moderne lamentation might haue mou'd. But which a rere-ward following
Tybalts
death
Romeo
is banished to speake that word, Is Father, Mother,
Tybalt, Romeo, Iuliet,
All slaine, all dead:
Romeo
is banished, There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, In that words death, no words can that woe sound. Where is my Father and my Mother Nurse?
Weeping and wailing ouer
Tybalts
Coarse, Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.
Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shal be spent When theirs are drie for
Romeo's
banishment. Take vp those Cordes, poore ropes you are beguil'd, Both you and I for
Romeo
is exild: He made you for a high-way to my bed, But I a Maid, die Maiden widowed. Come Cord, come Nurse, Ile to my wedding bed, And death not
Romeo,
take my Maiden head.
Hie to your Chamber, Ile find
Romeo
To comfort you, I wot well where he is: Harke ye your
Romeo
will be heere at night, Ile to him, he is hid at
Lawrence
Cell.
O find him, giue this Ring to my true Knight, And bid him come, to take his last farewell.
Exit
Enter Frier and Romeo.
Romeo
come forth, Come forth thou fearfull man, Affliction is enamor'd of thy parts And thou art wedded to calamitie,
Father what newes? What is the Princes Doome? What sorrow craues acquaintance at my hand, That I yet know not?
Too familiar Is my deare Sonne with such sowre Company I bring thee tydings of the Princes Doome.
What lesse then Doomesday, Is the Princes Doome?
A gentler iudgement vanisht from his lips, Not bodies death, but bodies banishment.
Ha, banishment? be mercifull, say death: For exile hath more terror in his looke, Much more then death: do not say banishment.
Here from
Verona
art thou banished: Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
There is no world without
Verona
walles, But Purgatorie, Torture,
hell
it selfe: Hence banished, is banisht from the world, And worlds exile is death. Then banished, Is death, mistearm'd, calling death banished, Thou cut'st my head off with a golden Axe, And smilest vpon the stroke that murders me.
O deadly sin, O rude vnthankefulnesse! Thy falt our Law calles death, but the kind Prince Taking thy part, hath rusht aside the Law, And turn'd that blacke word death, to banishment. This is deare mercy, and thou seest it not.
'Tis Torture and not mercy, heauen is here Where
Iuliet
liues, and euery Cat and Dog, And little Mouse, euery vnworthy thing Liue here in Heauen and may looke on her, But
Romeo
may not. More Validitie, More Honourable state, more Courtship liues In carrion Flies, then
Romeo:
they may seaze On the white wonder of deare
Iuliets
hand, And steale immortall blessing from her lips, Who euen in pure and vestall modestie Still blush, as thinking their owne kisses sin. This may Flies doe, when I from this must flie, And saist thou yet, that exile is not death? But
Romeo
may not, hee is banished. Had'st thou no poyson mixt, no sharpe ground knife, No sudden meane of death, though nere so meane, But banished to kill me? Banished? O Frier, the damned vse that word in
hell
: Howlings attends it, how hast then the hart Being a Diuine, a Ghostly Confessor, A Sin-Absoluer, and my Friend profest: To mangle me with that word, banished?
Then fond Mad man, heare me speake.
O thou wilt speake againe of banishment.
Ile giue thee Armour to keepe off that word, Aduersities sweete milke, Philosophie, To comfort thee, though thou art banished.
Yet banished? hang vp Philosophie: Vnlesse Philosophie can make a
Iuliet,
Displant a Towne, reuerse a Princes Doome, It helpes not, it preuailes not, talke no more.
O then I see, that Mad men haue no eares.
How should they, When wisemen haue no eyes?
Let me dispaire with thee of thy estate,
Thou can'st not speake of that
dost not feele, Wert thou as young as
Iuliet
my Loue: An houre but married,
Tybalt
murdered, Doting like me, and like me banished, Then mightest thou speake, Then mightest thou teare thy hayre, And fall vpon the ground as I doe now, Taking the measure of an vnmade graue.
Enter Nurse, and knockes.
Arise one knockes, Good
Romeo
hide thy selfe.
Not I, Vnlesse the breath of Hartsicke groanes Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes.
Knocke
Harke how they knocke: (Who's there)
Romeo
arise, Thou wilt be taken, stay
a
while, stand vp:
Knocke.
Run to my study:
by
and by, Gods
will
What simplenesse is this: I come, I come.
Knocke.
Who knocks so hard? Whence come you? what's your
will
?
Enter Nurse.
Let me come in, And you shall know my errand: I come from Lady
Iuliet.
Welcome then.
O holy Frier, O tell me holy Frier, Where's my Ladies Lord? where's
Romeo
?
There on the ground, With his owne teares made drunke.
O he is euen in my Mistresse case, Iust in her case. O wofull simpathy: Pittious predicament, euen so lies she, Blubbring and weeping, weeping and blubbring, Stand vp, stand vp, stand
and
you be a man, For
Iuliets
sake, for her sake rise and stand: Why should you fall into so deepe an
O
.
Nurse.
Ah sir, ah sir, deaths the end of all.
Speak'st thou of
Iuliet
? how is it with her? Doth not she thinke me an old Murtherer, Now I haue stain'd the Childhood of our ioy, With blood remoued, but little from her owne? Where is she? and how doth she? and what sayes My conceal'd Lady to our conceal'd Loue?
Oh she sayes nothing sir, but weeps and weeps, And now fals on her bed, and then starts vp, And
Tybalt
calls, and then on
Romeo
cries, And then downe falls againe.
As if that name shot from the dead leuell of a Gun, Did murder her, as that names cursed hand Murdred her kinsman. Oh tell me Frier, tell me, In what vile part of this Anatomie Doth my name lodge? Tell me, that I may sacke The hatefull Mansion.
Hold thy desperate hand: Art thou a man? thy forme cries out thou art: Thy teares are womanish, thy wild acts denote The vnreasonable Furie of a beast. Vnseemely woman, in a seeming man, And
ill
beseeming beast in seeming both, Thou hast amaz'd me. By my holy order, I thought thy disposition better temper'd. Hast thou slaine
Tybalt
? wilt thou slay thy selfe? And slay thy Lady, that in thy life lies, By doing damned hate vpon thy selfe? Why rayl'st thou on thy birth? the heauen and earth? Since birth, and heauen and earth, all three do meete In thee at once, which thou at once would'st loose. Fie, fie, thou sham'st thy shape, thy loue, thy wit, Which like a Vsurer abound'st in all: And vsest none in that true vse indeed, Which should bedecke thy shape, thy loue, thy wit: Thy Noble shape, is but a forme of waxe, Digressing from the Valour of a man, Thy deare Loue sworne but hollow periurie, Killing that Loue which thou hast vow'd to cherish. Thy wit, that Ornament, to shape and Loue, Mishapen in the conduct of them both: Like powder in a skillesse Souldiers flaske, Is set
a
fire by thine owne ignorance, And thou dismembred with thine owne defence. What, rowse thee man, thy
Iuliet
is aliue, For whose deare sake thou wast but lately dead. There art thou happy.
Tybalt
would kill thee, But thou slew'st
Tybalt,
there art thou happie. The law that threatned death became thy Friend. And turn'd it to exile, there art thou happy. A packe or blessing light vpon thy backe, Happinesse Courts thee in her best array, But like a mishaped and sullen wench, Thou puttest vp thy Fortune and thy Loue: Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable. Goe get thee to thy Loue as was decreed, Ascend her Chamber, hence and comfort her: But looke thou stay not till the watch be set, For then thou canst not passe to
Mantua,
Where thou shalt liue till we can finde a time To blaze your marriage, reconcile your Friends, Beg pardon of thy Prince, and call thee backe, With twenty hundred thousand times more ioy Then thou went'st forth in lamentation. Goe before Nurse, commend me to thy Lady, And bid her hasten all the house to bed, Which heauy sorrow makes them apt vnto.
Romeo
is comming.
O Lord, I could haue staid here all night, To heare good counsell: oh what learning is! My Lord Ile tell my Lady you will come.
Do so, and bid my Sweete prepare to chide.
Heere sir, a Ring she bid me giue you sir: Hie you, make
hast
, for it growes very late.
How well my comfort is reuiu'd by this.
Go hence, Goodnight, and here stands all your state: Either be gone before the watch be set, Or by the breake of day disguis'd from hence, Soiourne in
Mantua,
Ile find out your man, And he shall signifie from time to time, Euery good hap to you, that chaunces heere: Giue me thy hand, 'tis late, farewell, goodnight.
But that a ioy past ioy, calls out on me, It were a griefe, so briefe to part with thee: Farewell.
Exeunt.
Enter old Capulet, his Wife and Paris.
Things haue falne out sir so vnluckily, That we haue had no time to moue our Daughter: Looke you, she Lou'd her kinsman
Tybalt
dearely, And so did I. Well, we were borne to die. 'Tis very late, she'l not come downe to night: I promise you, but for your company, I would haue bin
a
bed an houre ago.
These times of wo, affoord no times to wooe: Madam goodnight, commend me to your Daughter.
I will, and know her mind early to morrow, To night, she is mewed vp to her heauinesse.
Sir
Paris,
I will make a desperate tender Of my Childes loue: I thinke she will be rul'd In all respects by me: nay more, I doubt it not. Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed, Acquaint her here, of my Sonne
Paris
Loue, And bid her, marke you me, on Wendsday next, But soft, what day is this?
Monday my Lord.
Monday, ha ha: well Wendsday is too soone,
A
Thursday let it be:
a
Thursday tell her, She shall be married to this Noble Earle: Will you be ready? do you like this
hast
? Weele keepe no great adoe, a Friend or two, For harke you,
Tybalt
being slaine so late, It may be thought we held him carelesly, Being our kinsman, if we reuell much: Therefore weele haue some halfe a dozen Friends, And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?
My Lord, I would that Thursday were to morrow.
Well, get you gone,
a
Thursday, be it then: Go you to
Iuliet
ere you go to bed, Prepare her wife, against this wedding day. Farewell my Lord, light to my Chamber hoa, Afore me, it is so late, that we may call it early
by
and by, Goodnight.
Exeunt.
Enter Romeo and Iuliet aloft.
Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet neere day: It was the Nightingale, and not the Larke, That pier'st the fearefull hollow of thine eare, Nightly she sings on yond Pomgranet tree, Beleeue me Loue, it was the Nightingale.
It was the Larke the Herauld of the Morne: No Nightingale: looke Loue what enuious streakes Do lace the seuering Cloudes in yonder East: Nights Candles are burnt out, and Iocond day Stands tipto on the mistie Mountaines tops, I must be gone and liue, or stay and die.
Yond light is not daylight, I know it I: It is some Meteor that the Sun exhales, To be to thee this night a Torch-bearer, And light thee on thy way to
Mantua.
Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not be gone,
Let me be tane, let me be put to death, I am content, so thou wilt haue it so. Ile say yon gray is not the mornings eye, 'Tis but the pale reflexe of
Cinthias
brow. Nor that is not Larke whose noates do beate The vaulty heauen so high aboue our heads, I haue more care to stay, then
will
to go: Come death and welcome,
Iuliet
wills it so. How ist my soule, lets talke, it is not day.
It is, it is, hie hence be gone away: It is the Larke that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh Discords, and vnpleasing Sharpes. Some say the Larke makes sweete Diuision; This doth not so: for she diuideth vs. Some say, the Larke and loathed Toad change eyes, O now I would they had chang'd voyces too: Since arme from arme that voyce doth vs affray, Hunting thee hence, with Hunts-vp to the day, O now be gone, more light and it light growes.
More light & light, more darke & darke our woes.
Enter Madam and Nurse.
Madam.
Nurse.
Your Lady Mother is comming to your chamber, The day is broke, be wary, looke about.
Then window let day in, and let life out.
Farewell, farewell, one kisse and Ile descend.
Art thou gone so? Loue, Lord, ay Husband, Friend, I must heare from thee euery day in the houre, For in a minute there are many dayes, O by this count I shall be much in yeares, Ere I againe behold my
Romeo.
Farewell: I will omit no oportunitie, That may conuey my greetings Loue, to thee.
O thinkest thou we shall euer meet againe?
I doubt it not, and all these woes shall serue For sweet discourses in our time to come.
O God! I haue an
ill
Diuining soule, Me thinkes I see thee now, thou art so lowe, As one dead in the bottome of a Tombe, Either my eye-sight failes, or thou look'st pale.
And trust me Loue, in my eye so do you: Drie sorrow drinkes our blood. Adue, adue.
Exit.
O Fortune, Fortune, all men call thee fickle, If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him That is renown'd for faith? be fickle Fortune: For then I hope thou wilt not keepe him long, But send him backe.
Enter Mother.
Ho Daughter, are you vp?
Who ist that calls? Is it my Lady Mother. Is she not downe so late, or vp so early? What vnaccustom'd cause procures her hither?
Why how now
Iuliet
?
Madam I am not well.
Euermore weeping for your Cozins death? What wilt thou wash him from his graue with teares?
And
if thou could'st, thou could'st not make him liue: Therefore haue done, some griefe shewes much of Loue, But much of griefe, shewes still some want of wit.
Yet let me weepe, for such a feeling losse.
So shall you feele the losse, but not the Friend Which you weepe for.
Feeling so the losse, I cannot chuse but euer weepe the Friend.
Well Girle, thou weep'st not so much for his death, As that the Villaine liues which slaughter'd him.
What Villaine, Madam?
That same Villaine
Romeo.
Villaine and he, be many miles assunder: God pardon, I doe with all my heart: And yet no man like he, doth grieue my heart.
That is because the Traitor liues.
I
Madam from the reach of these my hands: Would none but I might venge my Cozins death.
We will haue vengeance for it, feare thou not. Then weepe no more, Ile send to one in
Mantua,
Where that same banisht Run-agate doth liue, Shall giue him such an vnaccustom'd dram, That he shall soone keepe
Tybalt
company: And then I hope thou wilt be satisfied.
Indeed I neuer shall be satisfied With
Romeo,
till I behold him. Dead Is my poore heart so for a kinsman vext: Madam, if you could find out but a man To beare a poyson, I would temper it; That
Romeo
should vpon receit thereof, Soone sleepe in quiet. O how my heart abhors To heare him nam'd, and cannot come to him, To wreake the Loue I bore my Cozin, Vpon his body that hath slaughter'd him.
Find thou the meanes, and Ile find such a man. But now Ile tell thee ioyfull tidings Gyrle.
And ioy comes well, in such a needy time, What are they, beseech your Ladyship?
Well, well, thou hast a carefull Father Child? One who to put thee from thy heauinesse, Hath sorted out a sudden day of ioy, That thou expects not, nor I lookt not for.
Madam in happy time, what day is this?
Marry my Child, early next Thursday morne, The gallant, young, and Noble Gentleman, The Countie
Paris
at Saint
Peters
Church, Shall happily make thee a ioyfull Bride.
Now by Saint
Peters
Church, and
Peter
too, He shall not make me there a ioyfull Bride. I wonder at this
hast
, that I must wed Ere he that should be Husband comes to woe: I pray you tell my Lord and Father Madam, I will not marrie yet, and when I doe, I sweare It shall be
Romeo,
whom you know I hate Rather then
Paris.
These are newes indeed.
Here comes your Father, tell him so your selfe, And see how he will take it at your hands.
Enter Capulet and Nurse.
When the Sun sets, the earth doth drizzle deaw But for the Sunset of my Brothers Sonne, It raines downright. How now? A Conduit Gyrle, what still in teares? Euermore showring in one little body? Thou counterfaits a Barke, a Sea, a Wind: For still thy eyes, which I may call the Sea, Do ebbe and flow with teares, the Barke thy body is Sayling in this salt floud, the windes thy sighes, Who raging with the teares and they with them, Without a sudden calme will ouer set Thy tempest tossed body. How now wife? Haue you deliuered to her our decree?
I
sir; But she will none, she giues you thankes, I would the foole were married to her graue.
Soft, take me with you, take me with you wife, How, will she none? doth she not giue vs thanks? Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest, Vnworthy as she is, that we haue wrought So worthy a Gentleman, to be her Bridegroome
Not proud you haue, But thankfull that you haue: Proud can I neuer be of what I haue, But thankfull euen for hate, that is meant Loue.
How now? How now? Chopt Logicke? what is this? Proud, and I thanke you: and I thanke you not. Thanke me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, But fettle your fine ioints 'gainst Thursday next, To go with
Paris
to Saint
Peters
Church: Or I will drag thee, on a Hurdle thither. Out you greene sicknesse carrion, out you baggage, You tallow face.
Fie, fie, what are you mad?
Good Father, I beseech you on my knees Heare me with patience, but to speake a word.
Hang thee young baggage, disobedient wretch, I tell thee what, get thee to Church
a
Thursday, Or neuer after looke me in the face. Speake not, reply not, do not answere me. My fingers itch, wife: we scarce thought vs blest, That God had lent vs but this onely Child, But now I see this one is one too much, And that we haue a curse in hauing her: Out on her Hilding.
God in heauen blesse her, You are
too
blame my Lord to rate her so.
And why my Lady wisedome? hold your tongue, Good Prudence, smatter with your gossip, go.
I speak no treason, Father, O Godigoden, May not one speake?
Peace you mumbling foole, Vtter your grauitie ore a Gossips bowles For here we need it not.
You are too hot.
Gods bread, it makes me mad: Day, night, houre, ride, time, worke, play, Alone in companie, still my care hath bin To haue her matcht, and hauing now prouided A Gentleman of Noble Parentage, Of faire Demeanes, Youthfull, and Nobly Allied, Stuft as they say with Honourable parts, Proportion'd as ones thought would wish a man, And then to haue a wretched puling foole, A whining mammet, in her Fortunes tender, To answer, Ile not wed, I cannot Loue: I am too young, I pray you pardon me. But,
and
you will not wed, Ile pardon you. Graze where you will, you shall not house with me: Looke too't, thinke on't, I do not vse to iest. Thursday is neere, lay hand on heart, aduise,
And
you be mine, Ile giue you to my Friend:
And
you be not, hang, beg, starue, die in the streets, For by my soule, Ile nere acknowledge thee, Nor what is mine shall neuer do thee good: Trust too't, bethinke you, Ile not be forsworne
Exit.
Is there no pittie sitting in the Cloudes, That sees into the bottome of my griefe? O sweet my Mother cast me not away, Delay this marriage, for a month, a weeke, Or if you do not, make the Bridall bed In that dim Monument where
Tybalt
lies.
Talke not to me, for Ile not speake a word, Do as thou wilt, for I haue done with thee.
Exit.
O God! O Nurse, how shall this be preuented? My Husband is on earth, my faith in heauen, How shall that faith returne againe to earth, Vnlesse that Husband send it me from heauen, By leauing earth? Comfort me, counsaile me: Alacke, alacke, that heauen should practise stratagems Vpon so soft a subiect as my selfe. What saist thou? hast thou not a word of ioy? Some comfort Nurse.
Faith here it is,
Romeo
is banished, and all the world to nothing, That he dares nere come backe to challenge you: Or if he do, it needs must be by stealth. Then since the case so stands as now it doth, I thinke it best you married with the Countie, O hee's a Louely Gentleman:
Romeo
s a dish-clout to him: an Eagle Madam Hath not so greene, so quicke, so faire an eye As
Paris
hath, beshrow my very heart, I thinke you are happy in this second match, For it excels your first: or if it did not, Your first is dead, or 'twere as good he were, As liuing here and you no vse of him.
Speakest thou from thy heart?
And from my soule too, Or else beshrew them both.
Amen.
What?
Well, thou hast comforted me marue'lous much, Go in, and tell my Lady I am gone, Hauing displeas'd my Father, to
Lawrence
Cell, To make confession, and to be absolu'd.
Marrie I will, and this is wisely done.
Auncient damnation, O most wicked fiend! It is more sin to wish me thus forsworne, Or to dispraise my Lord with that same tongue Which she hath prais'd him with aboue compare, So many thousand times? Go Counsellor, Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twaine: Ile to the Frier to know his remedie, If all else faile, my selfe haue power to die.
Exeunt.
Enter Frier and Countie Paris.
On Thursday sir? the time is very short.
My Father
Capulet
will haue it so, And I am nothing slow to slack his
hast
.
You say you do not know the Ladies mind? Vneuen is the course, I like it not.
Immoderately she weepes for
Tybalts
death, And therfore haue I little talke of Loue, For
Venus
smiles not in a house of teares. Now sir, her Father counts it dangerous That she doth giue her sorrow so much sway: And in his wisedome, hasts our marriage, To stop the inundation of her teares, Which too much minded by her selfe alone, May be put from her by societie. Now doe you know the reason of this
hast
?
I would I knew not why it should be slow'd. Looke sir, here comes the Lady towards my Cell.
Enter Iuliet.
Happily met, my Lady and my wife.
That may be sir, when I may be a wife.
That may be, must be Loue, on Thursday next.
What must be shall be.
That's a certaine text.
Come you to make confession to this Father?
To answere that, I should confesse to you.
Do not denie to him, that you Loue me.
I will confesse to you that I Loue him.
So will ye, I am sure that you Loue me.
If I do so, it will be of more price, Being spoke behind your backe, then to your face.
Poore soule, thy face is much abus'd with teares.
The teares haue got small victorie by that: For it was bad inough before their spight.
Thou wrong'st it more then teares with that report.
That is no slaunder sir, which is a truth, And what I spake, I spake it to thy face.
Thy face is mine, and thou hast slaundred it.
It may be so, for it is not mine owne. Are you at leisure, Holy Father now, Or shall I come to you at euening Masse?
My leisure serues me pensiue daughter now. My Lord you must intreat the time alone.
Godsheild: I should disturbe Deuotion,
Iuliet
,
on Thursday early will I rowse yee, Till then adue, and keepe this holy kisse.
Exit Paris.
O shut the doore, and when thou hast done so, Come weepe with me, past hope, past care, past helpe.
O
Iuliet,
I alreadie know thy griefe, It streames me past the compasse of my wits: I heare thou must and nothing may prorogue it, On Thursday next be married to this Countie.
Tell me not Frier that thou hearest of this, Vnlesse thou tell me how I may preuent it: If in thy wisedome, thou canst giue no helpe, Do thou but call my resolution wise, And with this knife, Ile helpe it presently. God ioyn'd my heart, and
Romeos,
thou our hands, And ere this hand by thee to
Romeo
seal'd: Shall be the Labell to another Deede, Or my true heart with trecherous reuolt, Turne to another, this shall slay them both: Therefore out of thy long experien'st time, Giue me some present counsell, or behold Twixt my extreames and me, this bloody knife Shall play the vmpeere, arbitrating that, Which the commission of thy yeares and
art
, Could to no issue of true honour bring: Be not so long to speak, I long to die, If what thou speak'st, speake not of remedy.
Hold Daughter, I doe spie a kind of hope, Which craues as desperate an execution, As that is desperate which we would preuent. If rather then to marrie Countie
Paris
Thou hast the strength of
will
to slay thy selfe, Then is it likely thou wilt vndertake A thing like death to chide away this shame, That coap'st with death himselfe, to scape fro it: And if thou dar'st, Ile giue thee remedie.
Oh bid me leape, rather then marrie
Paris,
From
of
the Battlements of any Tower, Or walke in theeuish waies, or bid me lurke Where Serpents are: chaine me with roaring Beares Or hide me nightly in a Charnell house, Orecouered quite with dead mens ratling bones, With reckie shankes and yellow chappels sculls: Or bid me go into a new made graue, And hide me with a dead man in his graue, Things that to heare them told, haue made me tremble, And I will doe it without feare or doubt, To liue an vnstained wife to my sweet Loue.
Hold then: goe home, be merrie, giue consent, To marrie
Paris:
wensday is to morrow, To morrow night looke that thou lie alone, Let not thy Nurse lie with thee in thy Chamber: Take thou this Violl being then in bed, And this distilling liquor drinke thou off, When presently through all thy veines shall run, A cold and drowsie humour: for no pulse Shall keepe his natiue progresse, but surcease: No warmth, no breath shall testifie thou liuest, The Roses in thy lips and cheekes shall fade To many ashes, the eyes windowes fall Like death when he shut vp the day of life: Each part depriu'd of supple gouernment, Shall stiffe and starke, and cold appeare like death, And in this borrowed likenesse of shrunke death Thou shalt continue two and forty houres, And then awake, as from a pleasant sleepe. Now when the Bridegroome in the morning comes, To rowse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead: Then as the manner of our country is, In thy best Robes vncouer'd on the Beere, Be borne to buriall in thy kindreds graue: Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault, Where all the kindred of the
Capulets
lie, In the meane time against thou shalt awake, Shall
Romeo
by my Letters know our drift, And hither shall he come, and that very night Shall
Romeo
beare thee hence to
Mantua.
And this shall free thee from this present shame, If no inconstant toy nor womanish feare, Abate thy valour in the acting it.
Giue me, giue me, O tell me not of care.
Hold get you gone, be strong and prosperous: In this resolue, Ile send a Frier with speed To
Mantua
with my Letters to thy Lord.
Loue giue me strength, And the strength shall helpe afford: Farewell deare father.
Exit
Enter Father Capulet, Mother, Nurse, and Seruing men, two or three.
So many guests inuite as here are writ, Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning Cookes.
You shall haue none
ill
sir, for Ile trie if they can licke their fingers.
How canst thou trie them so?
Marrie sir, 'tis an
ill
Cooke that cannot licke his owne fingers: therefore he that cannot licke his fingers goes not with me.
Go be gone, we shall be much vnfurnisht for this time: what is my Daughter gone to Frier
Lawrence
?
I
forsooth.
Well he may chance to do some good on her, A peeuish selfe-wild harlotry it is.
Enter Iuliet.
See where she comes from shrift With merrie looke.
How now my headstrong, Where haue you bin gadding?
Where I haue learnt me to repent the sin Of disobedient opposition: To you and your behests, and am enioyn'd By holy
Lawrence,
to fall prostrate here, To beg your pardon: pardon I beseech you, Henceforward I am euer rul'd by you.
Send for the Countie, goe tell him of this, Ile haue this knot knit vp to morrow morning.
I met the youthfull Lord at
Lawrence
Cell, And gaue him what becomed Loue I might, Not stepping ore the bounds of modestie.
Why I am glad on't, this is well, stand vp, This is as't should be, let me see the County:
I
marrie go I say, and fetch him hither. Now afore God, this reueren'd holy Frier, All our whole Cittie is much bound to him.
Nurse will you goe with me into my Closet, To helpe me sort such needfull ornaments, As you thinke fit to furnish me to morrow?
No not till Thursday, there's time inough.
Go Nurse, go with her, Weele to Church to morrow.
Exeunt Iuliet and Nurse.
We shall be short in our prouision, 'Tis now neere night.
Tush, I will stirre about, And all things shall be well, I warrant thee wife: Go thou to
Iuliet,
helpe to decke vp her, Ile not to bed to night, let me alone: Ile play the huswife for this once. What ho? They are all forth, well I will walke my selfe To Countie
Paris,
to prepare him vp Against to morrow, my heart is wondrous light, Since this same way-ward Gyrle is so reclaim'd.
Exeunt Father and Mother.
Enter Iuliet and Nurse.
I
those attires are best, but gentle Nurse I pray thee leaue me to my selfe to night: For I haue need of many Orysons, To moue the heauens to smile vpon my state, Which well thou know'st, is crosse and full of sin.
Enter Mother.
What are you busie ho? need you my help?
No Madam, we haue cul'd such necessaries As are behoouefull for our state to morrow: So please you, let me now be left alone; And let the Nurse this night sit vp with you, For I am sure, you haue your hands full all, In this so sudden businesse.
Goodnight. Get thee to bed and rest, for thou hast need.
Exeunt.
Farewell: God knowes when we shall meete againe. I haue a faint cold feare thrills through my veines, That almost freezes vp the heate of fire: Ile call them backe againe to comfort me. Nurse, what should she do here? My dismall Sceane, I needs must act alone: Come Viall, what if this mixture do not worke at all? Shall I be married then to morrow morning? No, no, this shall forbid it. Lie thou there, What if it be a poyson which the Frier Subtilly hath ministred to haue me dead, Least in this marriage he should be dishonour'd, Because he married me before to
Romeo
? I feare it is, and yet me thinkes it should not, For he hath still beene tried a holy man. How, if when I am laid into the Tombe, I wake before the time that
Romeo
Come to redeeme me? There's a fearefull point: Shall I not then be stifled in the Vault? To whose foule mouth no healthsome ayre breaths in, And there die strangled ere my
Romeo
comes. Or if I liue, is it not very like, The horrible conceit of death and night, Together with the terror of the place, As in a Vaulte, an ancient receptacle, Where for these many hundred yeeres the bones Of all my buried Auncestors are packt, Where bloody
Tybalt,
yet but greene in earth, Lies festring in his shrow'd, where as they say, At some houres in the night, Spirits resort: Alacke, alacke, is it not like that I So early waking, what with loathsome smels, And shrikes like Mandrakes torne out of the earth, That liuing mortalls hearing them, run mad. O if I wake, shall I not be distraught, Inuironed with all these hidious feares, And madly play with my forefathers ioynts? And plucke the mangled
Tybalt
from his shrow'd? And in this rage, with some great kinsmans bone, As (with a club) dash out my desperate braines. O looke, me thinks I see my Cozins Ghost, Seeking out
Romeo
that did spit his body Vpon my Rapiers point: stay
Tybalt,
stay;
Romeo
, Romeo, Romeo,
here's drinke: I drinke to thee.
Enter Lady of the house, and Nurse.
Hold, Take these keies, and fetch more spices Nurse.
They call for Dates and Quinces in the Pastrie.
Enter old Capulet.
Come, stir, stir, stir, The second Cocke hath Crow'd, The Curphew Bell hath rung, 'tis three
a
clocke: Looke to the bakte meates, good
Angelica,
Spare not for cost.
Go you Cot-queane, go, Get you to bed, faith youle be sicke to morrow For this nights watching.
No not a whit: what? I haue watcht ere now All night for lesse cause, and nere beene sicke.
I
you haue bin a Mouse-hunt in your time, But I will watch you from such watching now.
Exit Lady and Nurse.
A iealous hood, a iealous hood, Now fellow, what there?
Enter three or foure with spits, and logs, and baskets.
Things for the Cooke sir, but I know not what.
Make
hast
, make
hast
, sirrah, fetch drier Logs. Call
Peter,
he will shew thee where they are.
I haue a head sir, that will find out logs, And neuer trouble
Peter
for the matter.
Masse and well said, a merrie horson, ha, Thou shalt be loggerhead; good Father, 'tis day.
Play Musicke
The Countie will be here with Musicke straight, For so he said he would, I heare him neere, Nurse, wife, what ho? what Nurse I say?
Enter Nurse.
Go waken
Iuliet,
go and trim her vp, Ile go and chat with
Paris:
hie, make
hast
, Make
hast
, the Bridegroome, he is come already: Make
hast
I say.
Mistris, what Mistris?
Iuliet
? Fast I warrant her she. Why Lambe, why Lady? fie you sluggabed, Why Loue I say? Madam, sweet heart: why Bride? What not a word? You take your peniworths now. Sleepe for a weeke, for the next night I warrant The Countie
Paris
hath set vp his rest, That you shall rest but little, God forgiue me: Marrie and Amen: how sound is she
a
sleepe? I must needs wake her: Madam, Madam, Madam,
I
, let the Countie take you in your bed, Heele fright you vp yfaith. Will it not be? What drest, and in your clothes, and downe againe? I must needs wake you: Lady, Lady, Lady? Alas, alas, helpe, helpe, my Ladyes dead, Oh weladay, that euer I was borne, Some Aqua-vitae ho, my Lord, my Lady?
What noise is heere?
Enter Mother.
O lamentable day.
What is the matter?
Looke, looke, oh heauie day.
O me, O me, my Child, my onely life: Reuiue, looke vp, or I will die with thee: Helpe, helpe, call helpe.
Enter Father.
For shame bring
Iuliet
forth, her Lord is come.
Shee's dead: deceast, shee's dead: alacke the day.
Alacke the day, shee's dead, shee's dead, shee's dead.
Ha? Let me see her: out alas shee's cold, Her blood is setled and her ioynts are stiffe: Life and these lips haue long bene seperated: Death lies on her like an vntimely frost Vpon the swetest flower of all the field.
O Lamentable day!
O wofull time.
Death that hath tane her hence to make me waile, Ties vp my tongue, and will not let me speake.
Enter Frier and the Countie.
Come, is the Bride ready to go to Church?
Ready to go, but neuer to returne. O Sonne, the night before thy wedding day, Hath death laine with thy wife: there she lies, Flower as she was, deflowred by him. Death is my Sonne in law, death is my Heire, My Daughter he hath wedded. I will die, And leaue him all life liuing, all is deaths.
Haue I thought long to see this mornings face, And doth it giue me such a sight as this?
Accur'st, vnhappie, wretched hatefull day, Most miserable houre, that ere time saw In lasting labour of his Pilgrimage. But one, poore one, one poore and louing Child, But one thing to reioyce and solace in, And cruell death hath catcht it from my sight.
O wo, O wofull, wofull, wofull day, Most lamentable day, most wofull day, That euer, euer, I did yet behold. O day, O day, O day, O hatefull day, Neuer was seene so blacke a day as this: O wofull day, O wofull day.
Beguild, diuorced, wronged, spighted, slaine, Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd, By cruell, cruell thee, quite ouerthrowne: O loue, O life; not life, but loue in death.
Despis'd, distressed, hated, martir'd, kil'd, Vncomfortable time, why cam'st thou now To murther, murther our solemnitie? O Child, O Child; my soule, and not my Child, Dead art thou, alacke my Child is dead, And with my Child, my ioyes are buried.
Peace ho for shame, confusions: Care liues not In these confusions, heauen and your selfe Had part in this faire Maid, now heauen hath all, And all the better is it for the Maid: Your part in her, you could not keepe from death, But heauen keepes his part in eternall life: The most you sought was her promotion, For 'twas your heauen, she shouldst be aduan'st, And weepe ye now, seeing she is aduan'st Aboue the Cloudes, as high as Heauen it selfe? O in this loue, you loue your Child so
ill
, That you run mad, seeing that she is well: Shee's not well married, that liues married long, But shee's best married, that dies married yong. Drie vp your teares, and sticke your Rosemarie On this faire Coarse, and as the custome is, And in her best array beare her to Church: For though some Nature bids all vs lament, Yet Natures teares are Reasons merriment.
All things that we ordained Festiuall, Turne from their office to blacke Funerall: Our instruments to melancholy Bells, Our wedding cheare, to a sad buriall Feast: Our solemne Hymnes, to sullen Dyrges change: Our Bridall flowers serue for a buried Coarse: And all things change them to the contrarie.
Sir go you in; and Madam, go with him, And go sir
Paris,
euery one prepare To follow this faire Coarse vnto her graue: The heauens do lowre vpon you, for some
ill
: Moue them no more, by crossing their high
will
.
Exeunt
Faith we may put vp our Pipes and be gone.
Honest goodfellowes: Ah put vp, put vp, For well you know, this is a pitifull case.
I
by my troth, the case may be amended.
Enter Peter.
Musitions, oh Musitions, Hearts ease, hearts ease, O,
and
you will haue me liue, play hearts ease.
Why hearts ease;
O Musitions, Because my heart it selfe plaies, my heart is full.
Not a dump we, 'tis no time to play now.
You will not then?
No.
I will then giue it you soundly.
What will you giue vs?
No money on my faith, but the gleeke. I will giue you the Minstrell.
Then will I giue you the Seruing creature.
Then will I lay the seruing Creatures Dagger on your pate. I will carie no Crochets, Ile Re you, Ile Fa you, do you note me?
And
you Re vs, and Fa vs, you Note vs.
Pray you put vp your Dagger, And put out your wit. Then haue at you with my wit.
I will drie-beate you with an yron wit, And put vp my yron Dagger. Answere me like men: When griping griefes the heart doth wound, then Mu- sicke with her siluer sound. Why siluer sound? why Musicke with her siluer sound? what say you
Simon Catling
?
Mary sir, because siluer hath a sweet sound.
Pratest, what say you
Hugh Rebicke
?
I say siluer sound, because Musitions sound for sil
uer
Pratest
to
, what say you
Iames Sound-Post
?
Faith I know not what to say.
O I cry you mercy, you are the Singer. I will say for you; it is Musicke with her siluer sound, Because Musitions haue no gold for sounding: Then Musicke with her siluer sound, with speedy helpe doth lend redresse.
Exit.
What a pestilent knaue is this same?
Hang him Iacke, come weele in here, tarrie for the Mourners, and stay dinner.
Exit.
Enter Romeo.
If I may trust the flattering truth of sleepe, My dreames presage some ioyfull newes at hand: My bosomes L[ord]. sits lightly in his throne: And all this day an vnaccustom'd spirit, Lifts me aboue the ground with cheerefull thoughts. I dreamt my Lady came and found me dead, (Strange dreame that giues a dead man leaue to thinke,) And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips, That I reuiu'd and was an Emperour. Ah me, how sweet is loue it selfe possest, When but loues shadowes are so rich in ioy.
Enter Romeo's man.
Newes from
Verona,
how now
Balthazer
? Dost thou not bring me Letters from the Frier? How doth my Lady? Is my Father well? How doth my Lady
Iuliet
? that I aske againe, For nothing can be
ill
, is she be well.
Then she is well, and nothing can be
ill
. Her body sleepes in
Capels
Monument, And her immortall part with Angels liue, I saw her laid low in her kindreds Vault, And presently tooke Poste to tell it you: O pardon me for bringing these
ill
newes, Since you did leaue it for my office Sir.
Is it euen so? Then I denie you Starres. Thou knowest my lodging, get me inke and paper, And hire Post-Horses, I will hence to night.
I do beseech you sir, haue patience: Your lookes are pale and wild, and do import Some misaduenture.
Tush, thou art deceiu'd, Leaue me, and do the thing I bid thee do. Hast thou no Letters to me from the Frier?
No my good Lord.
Exit Man.
No matter: Get thee gone, And hyre those Horses, Ile be with thee straight, Well
Iuliet,
I will lie with thee to night: Lets see for meanes, O mischiefe thou art swift, To enter in the thoughts of desperate men: I do remember an Appothecarie, And here abouts dwells, which late I noted In tattred weeds, with ouerwhelming browes, Culling of Simples, meager were his lookes, Sharp miserie had worne him to the bones: And in his needie shop a Tortoyrs hung, An Allegater stuft, and other skins Of
ill
shap'd fishes, and about his shelues, A beggerly account of emptie boxes , Greene earthen pots, Bladders, and mustie seedes, Remnants of packthred, and old cakes of Roses Were thinly scattered, to make vp a shew. Noting this penury, to my selfe I said,
An
if a man did need a poyson now, Whose sale is present death in
Mantua,
Here liues a Caitiffe wretch would sell it him. O this same thought did but fore-run my need, And this same needie man must sell it me. As I remember, this should be the house, Being holy day, the beggers shop is shut. What ho? Appothecarie?
Enter Appothecarie.
Who call's so low'd?
Come hither man, I see that thou art poore, Hold, there is fortie Duckets, let me haue A dram of poyson, such soone speeding geare, As will disperse it selfe through all the veines, That the life-wearie-taker may fall dead, And that the Trunke may be discharg'd of breath, As violently, as hastie powder fier'd Doth hurry from the fatall Canons wombe.
Such mortall drugs I haue, but
Mantuas
law Is death to any
he
, that vtters them.
Art thou so bare and full of wretchednesse, And fear'st to die? Famine is in thy cheekes, Need and opression starueth in thy eyes, Contempt and beggery hangs vpon thy backe: The world is not thy friend, nor the worlds law: The world affords no law to make thee rich. Then be not poore, but breake it, and take this.
My pouerty, but not my
will
consents.
I pray thy pouerty, and not thy
will
.
Put this in any liquid thing you will And drinke it off, and if you had the strength Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight.
There's thy Gold, Worse poyson to mens soules, Doing more murther in this loathsome world, Then these poore compounds that thou maiest not sell. I sell thee poyson, thou hast sold me none, Farewell, buy food, and get thy selfe in flesh. Come Cordiall, and not poyson, go with me To
Iuliets
graue, for there must I vse thee.
Exeunt.
Enter Frier Iohn to Frier Lawrence.
Holy
Franciscan
Frier, Brother, ho?
Enter Frier Lawrence.
This same should be the voice of Frier
Iohn.
Welcome from
Mantua,
what sayes
Romeo
? Or if his mind be writ, giue me his Letter.
Going to find a bare-foote Brother out, One of our order to associate me, Here in this Citie visiting the sick, And finding him, the Searchers of the Towne Suspecting that we both were in a house Where the infectious pestilence did raigne, Seal'd vp the doores, and would not let vs forth, So that my speed to
Mantua
there was staid.
Who bare my Letter then to
Romeo
?
I could not send it, here it is againe, Nor get a messenger to bring it thee, So fearefull were they of infection.
Vnhappie Fortune: by my Brotherhood The Letter was not nice; but full of charge, Of deare import; and the neglecting it May do much danger: Frier
Iohn
go hence, Get me an Iron Crow, and bring it straight Vnto my Cell.
Brother Ile go and bring it thee.
Exit.
Now must I to the Monument alone, Within this three houres will faire
Iuliet
wake, Shee will beshrew me much that
Romeo
Hath had no notice of these accidents: But I will write againe to
Mantua,
And keepe her at my Cell till
Romeo
come, Poore liuing Coarse, clos'd in a dead mans Tombe,
Exit.
Enter Paris and his Page.
Giue me thy Torch Boy, hence and stand aloft, Yet put it out, for I would not be seene: Vnder yond young Trees lay thee all along, Holding thy eare close to the hollow ground, So shall no foot vpon the Churchyard tread, Being loose, vnfirme with digging vp of Graues, But thou shalt heare it: whistle then to me, As signall that thou hearest some thing approach, Giue me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.
I am almost afraid to stand alone Here in the Churchyard, yet I will aduenture.
Sweet Flower with flowers thy Bridall bed I strew: O woe, thy Canopie is dust and stones, Which with sweet water nightly I will dewe, Or wanting that, with teares destil'd by mones; The obsequies that I for thee will keepe, Nightly shall be, to strew thy graue, and weepe.
Whistle Boy.
The Boy giues warning, something doth approach, What cursed foot wanders this wayes to night, To crosse my obsequies, and true loues right? What with a Torch? Muffle me night
a
while.
Enter Romeo, and Peter.
Giue me that Mattocke, & the wrenching Iron, Hold take this Letter, early in the morning See thou deliuer it to my Lord and Father, Giue me the light; vpon thy life I charge thee, What ere thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloofe, And do not interrupt me in my course. Why I descend into this bed of death, Is partly to behold my Ladies face: But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger, A precious Ring, a Ring that I must vse, In deare employment, therefore hence be gone: But if thou iealous dost returne to prie In what I further shall intend to do, By heauen I will teare thee ioynt by ioynt, And strew this hungry Churchyard with thy limbs: The time, and my intents are sauage wilde: More fierce and more inexorable farre, Them emptie Tygers, or the roaring Sea.
I will be gone sir, and not trouble you
So shalt thou shew me friendship: take thou that, Liue and be prosperous, and farewell good fellow.
For all this same, Ile hide me here about, His lookes I feare, and his intents I doubt.
Thou detestable mawe, thou wombe of death, Gorg'd with the dearest morsell of the earth: Thus I enforce thy rotten Iawes to open, And in despight, Ile cram thee with more food.
This is that banisht haughtie
Mountague,
That murdred my Loues Cozin; with which griefe, It is supposed the faire Creature died, And here is come to do some villanous shame To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him. Stop thy vnhallowed toyle, vile
Mountague:
Can vengeance be pursued further then death? Condemned villaine, I do apprehend thee. Obey and go with me, for thou must die,
I must indeed, and therfore came I hither: Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man, Flie hence and leaue me, thinke vpon those gone, Let them affright thee. I beseech thee Youth, Put not an other sin vpon my head, By vrging me to furie. O be gone, By heauen I loue thee better then my selfe, For I come hither arm'd against my selfe: Stay not, be gone, liue, and hereafter say, A mad mans mercy bid thee run away.
I do defie thy commisseration, And apprehend thee for a Fellon here.
Wilt thou prouoke me? Then haue at thee Boy.
O Lord they fight, I will go call the Watch.
O I am slaine, if thou be mercifull, Open the Tombe, lay me with
Iuliet.
In faith I will, let me peruse this face:
Mercutius
kinsman, Noble Countie
Paris,
What said my man, when my betossed soule Did not attend him as we rode? I thinke He told me
Paris
should haue married
Iuliet.
Said he not so? Or did I dreame it so? Or am I mad, hearing him talke of
Iuliet,
To thinke it was so? O giue me thy hand, One, writ with me in sowre misfortunes booke. Ile burie thee in a triumphant graue. A Graue; O no, a Lanthorne; slaughtred Youth: For here lies
Iuliet,
and her beautie makes This Vault a feasting presence full of light. Death lie thou there, by a dead man inter'd, How oft when men are at the point of death, Haue they beene merrie? Which their Keepers call A lightning before death? Oh how may I Call this a lightning? O my Loue, my Wife, Death that hath suckt the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet vpon thy Beautie: Thou are not conquer'd: Beauties ensigne yet Is Crymson in thy lips, and in thy cheekes, And Deaths pale flag is not aduanced there.
Tybalt,
ly'st thou there in thy bloudy sheet? O what more fauour can I do to thee, Then with that hand that cut thy youth in twaine, To sunder his that was thy enemie? Forgiue me Cozen. Ah deare
Iuliet:
Why art thou yet so faire? I will beleeue, Shall I beleeue, that vnsubstantiall death is amorous? And that the leane abhorred Monster keepes Thee here in darke to be his Paramour? For feare of that, I still will stay with thee, And neuer from this Pallace of dym night Depart againe: come lie thou in my armes, Heere's to thy health, where ere thou tumblest in. O true Appothecarie! Thy drugs are quicke. Thus with a kisse I die. Depart againe; here, here will I remaine, With Wormes that are thy Chambermaides: O here Will I set vp my euerlasting rest: And shake the yoke of inauspicious starres From this world-wearied flesh: Eyes looke your last: Armes take your last embrace: And lips, O you The doores of breath, seale with a righteous kisse A datelesse bargaine to ingrossing death: Come bitter conduct, come vnsauory guide, Thou desperate Pilot, now at once run on The dashing Rocks, thy Sea-sicke wearie Barke: Heere's to my Loue. O true Appothecary: Thy drugs are quicke. Thus with a kisse I die.
Enter Frier with a Lanthorne, Crow, and Spade.
St. Francis be my speed, how oft to night Haue my old feet stumbled at graues? Who's there?
Here's one, a Friend, & one that knowes you well.
Blisse be vpon you. Tell me good my Friend What Torch is yond that vainely lends his light To grubs, and eyelesse Sculles? As I discerne, It burneth in the
Capels
Monument.
It doth so holy sir, And there's my Master, one that you loue.
Who is it?
Romeo.
How long hath he bin there?
Full halfe an houre.
Go with me to the Vault.
I dare not Sir. My Master knowes not but I am gone hence, And fearefully did menace me with death, If I did stay to looke on his entents.
Stay, then Ile go alone, feares comes vpon me. O much I feare some
ill
vnluckie thing.
As I did sleepe vnder this young tree here, I dreamt my maister and another fought, And that my Maister slew him.
Romeo.
Alacke, alacke, what blood is this which staines The stony entrance of this Sepulcher? What meane these Masterlesse, and goarie Swords To lie discolour'd by this place of peace?
Romeo
,
oh pale: who else? what
Paris
too? And steept in blood? Ah what an vnkind houre Is guiltie of this lamentable chance? The Lady stirs.
O comfortable Frier, where's my Lord? I do remember well where I should be: And there I am, where is my
Romeo
?
I heare some noyse Lady, come from that nest Of death, contagion, and vnnaturall sleepe, A greater power then we can contradict Hath thwarted our entents, come, come away, Thy husband in thy bosome there lies dead: And
Paris
too: come Ile dispose of thee, Among a Sisterhood of holy Nunnes: Stay not to question, for the watch is comming. Come, go good
Iuliet,
I dare no longer stay.
Exit.
Go get thee hence, for I will not away, What's here, A cup clos'd in my true loues hand? Poyson I see hath bin his timelesse end O churle, drinke all? and left no friendly drop, To helpe me after, I will kisse thy lips, Happlie some poyson yet doth hang on them, To make me die with a restoratiue. Thy lips are warme.
Enter Boy and Watch.
Lead Boy, which way?
Yea noise? Then ile be briefe. O happy Dagger. 'Tis in thy sheath, there rust and let me die.
Kils herselfe.
This is the place, There where the Torch doth burne
The ground is bloody, Search about the Churchyard. Go some of you, who ere you find attach. Pittifull sight, here lies the Countie slaine, And
Iuliet
bleeding, warme and newly dead Who here hath laine these two dayes buried. Go tell the Prince, runne to the
Capulets,
Raise vp the
Mountagues,
some others search, We see the ground whereon these woes do lye, But the true ground of all these piteous woes, We cannot without circumstance descry.
Enter Romeo's man.
Here's
Romeo's
man, We found him in the Churchyard.
Hold him in safety, till the Prince come hither.
Enter Frier, and another Watchman.
Here is a Frier that trembles, sighes, and weepes We tooke this Mattocke and this Spade from him, As he was comming from this Church-yard side.
A great suspition, stay the Frier too.
Enter the Prince.
What misaduenture is so earely vp, That calls our person from our mornings rest?
Enter Capulet and his Wife.
What should it be that they so shrike abroad?
O the people in the streete crie
Romeo.
Some
Iuliet,
and some
Paris,
and all runne With open outcry toward our Monument.
What feare is this which startles in your eares?
Soueraigne, here lies the Countie
Paris
slaine, And
Romeo
dead, and
Iuliet
dead before, Warme and new kil'd.
Search, Seeke, and know how, this foule murder comes.
Here is a Frier, and Slaughter'd
Romeos
man, With Instruments vpon them fit to open These dead mens Tombes.
O heauen! O wife looke how our Daughter bleedes! This Dagger hath mistaine, for loe his house Is empty on the backe of
Mountague,
And is misheathed in my Daughters bosome.
O me, this sight of death, is as a Bell That warnes my old age to a Sepulcher.
Enter Mountague.
Come
Mountague,
for thou art early vp To see thy Sonne and Heire, now early downe.
Alas my liege, my wife is dead to night, Griefe of my Sonnes exile hath stopt her breath: What further woe conspires against my age?
Looke: and thou shalt see.
O thou vntaught, what manners is in this, To presse before thy Father to a graue?
Seale vp the mouth of outrage for
a
while, Till we can cleare these ambiguities, And know their spring, their head, their true descent, And then I will be generall of your woes, And lead you euen to death? meane time forbeare, And let mischance be slaue to patience, Bring forth the parties of suspition.
I am the greatest, able to doe least, Yet most suspected as the time and place Doth make against me of this direfull murther: And heere I stand both to impeach and purge My selfe condemned, and my selfe excus'd.
Then say at once, what thou dost know in this?
I will be briefe, for my short date of breath Is not so long as is a tedious tale.
Romeo
there dead, was husband to that
Iuliet,
And she there dead, that's
Romeos
faithfull wife:
I married them; and their stolne marriage day Was
Tybalts
Doomesday: whose vntimely death Banish'd the new-made Bridegroome from this Citie: For whom (and not for
Tybalt
)
Iuliet
pinde. You, to remoue that siege of Greefe from her, Betroth'd, and would haue married her perforce To Countie
Paris.
Then comes she to me, And (with wilde lookes) bid me deuise some meanes To rid her from this second Marriage, Or in my Cell there would she kill her selfe. Then gaue I her (so Tutor'd by my Art) A sleeping Potion, which so tooke effect As I intended, for it wrought on her The forme of death. Meane time, I writ to
Romeo,
That he should hither come, as this dyre night, To helpe to take her from her borrowed graue, Being the time the Potions force should cease. But he which bore my Letter, Frier
Iohn,
Was stay'd by accident; and yesternight Return'd my Letter backe. Then all alone, At the prefixed houre of her waking, Came I to take her from her Kindreds vault, Meaning to keepe her closely at my Cell, Till I conueniently could send to
Romeo.
But when I came (some Minute ere the time Of her awaking) heere vntimely lay The Noble
THE TEMPEST.
Actus primus, Scena prima.
A tempestuous noise of Thunder and Lightning heard: En- ter a Ship-master, and a Boteswaine.
Bote-swaine.
Heere Master: What cheere?
Good: Speake to th' Mariners: fall too't, yarely, or we run our selues
a
ground, bestirre, bestirre.
Exit.
Enter Mariners.
Heigh my hearts, cheerely, cheerely my harts:
yare
,
yare
: Take in the toppe-sale: Tend to th' Masters whistle: Blow till thou burst thy winde, if roome e- nough.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Ferdinando, Gonzalo, and others.
Good Boteswaine haue care: where's the Ma- ster? Play the men.
I pray now keepe below.
Where is the Master, Boson?
Do you not heare him? you marre our labour, Keepe your Cabines: you do assist the storme.
Nay, good be patient.
When the Sea is: hence, what cares these roa- rers for the name of King? to Cabine; silence: trouble vs not.
Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboord.
None that I more loue then my selfe. You are a Counsellor, if you can command these Elements to si- lence, and worke the peace of the present, wee will not hand a rope more, vse your authoritie: If you cannot, giue thankes you haue liu'd so long, and make your selfe readie in your Cabine for the mischance of the houre, if it so hap. Cheerely good hearts: out of our way I say.
Exit.
I haue great comfort from this fellow: methinks he hath no drowning marke vpon him, his complexion is perfect Gallowes: stand fast good Fate to his han- ging, make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our owne doth little aduantage: If he be not borne to bee hang'd, our case is miserable.
Exit.
Enter Boteswaine.
Downe with the top-Mast:
yare
, lower, lower, bring her to Try with Maine-course. A plague ——
A cry within. Enter Sebastian, Anthonio & Gonzalo.
vpon this howling: they are lowder then the weather, or our office: yet againe? What do you heere? Shal we giue ore and drowne, haue you a minde to sinke?
A poxe o'your throat, you bawling, blasphe- mous incharitable Dog.
Worke you then.
Hang cur, hang, you whoreson insolent Noyse-maker, we are lesse afraid to be drownde, then thou art.
I'le warrant him for drowning, though the Ship were no stronger then a Nutt-shell, and as leaky as an vnstanched wench.
Lay her
a
hold,
a
hold, set her two courses off to Sea againe, lay her off.
Enter Mariners wet.
All lost, to prayers, to prayers, all lost.
What must our mouths be cold?
The King, and Prince, at prayers, let's assist them, for our case is as theirs.
I'am out of patience.
We are meerly cheated of our liues by drunkards, This wide-chopt-rascall, would thou mightst lye drow- ning the washing of ten Tides.
Hee'l be hang'd yet, Though euery drop of water sweare against it, And gape at widst to glut him.
A confused noyse within.
Mercy on vs. We split, we split, Farewell my wife, and children, Farewell brother: we split, we split, we split.
Let's all sinke with' King
Let's take leaue of him.
Exit.
Now would I giue a thousand furlongs of Sea, for an Acre of barren ground: Long heath, Browne firrs, any thing; the wills aboue be done, but I would faine dye a dry death.
Exit.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Prospero and Miranda.
If by your
Art
(my deerest father) you haue Put the wild waters in this Rore; alay them: The skye it seemes would powre down stinking pitch, But that the Sea, mounting to th' welkins cheeke, Dashes the fire out. Oh! I haue suffered With those that I saw suffer: A braue vessell
(Who had no doubt some noble creature in her) Dash'd all to peeces: O the cry did knocke Against my very heart: poore soules, they perish'd. Had I byn any God of power, I would Haue suncke the Sea within the Earth, or ere It should the good Ship so haue swallow'd, and The fraughting Soules within her.
Be collected, No more amazement: Tell your pitteous heart there's no harme done.
O woe, the day.
No harme: I haue done nothing, but in care of thee (Of thee my deere one; thee my daughter) who Art ignorant of what thou art. naught knowing Of whence I am: nor that I am more better Then
Prospero,
Master of a full poore cell, And thy no greater Father.
More to know Did neuer medle with my thoughts.
'Tis time I should informe thee farther: Lend thy hand And plucke my Magick garment from me: So, Lye there my
Art
: wipe thou thine eyes, haue comfort, The direfull spectacle of the wracke which touch'd The very vertue of compassion in thee: I haue with such prouision in mine
Art
So safely ordered, that there is no soule No not so much perdition as an hayre Betid to any creature in the vessell Which thou heardst cry, which thou saw'st sinke: Sit
downe
, For thou must now know farther.
You haue often Begun to tell me what I am, but stopt And left me to a bootelesse Inquisition, Concluding, stay: not yet.
The howr's now come The very minute byds thee ope thine eare, Obey, and be attentiue. Canst thou remember A time before we came vnto this Cell? I doe not thinke thou canst, for then thou was't not Out three yeeres old.
Certainely Sir, I can.
By what? by any other house, or person? Of any thing the Image, tell me, that Hath kept with thy remembrance.
'Tis farre off: And rather like a dreame, then an assurance That my remembrance warrants: Had I not Fowre, or fiue women once, that tended me?
Thou hadst; and more
Miranda:
But how is it That this liues in thy minde? What seest thou els In the dark-backward and Abisme of Time? Yf thou remembrest ought ere thou cam'st here, How thou cam'st here thou maist.
But that I doe not.
Twelue yere since (
Miranda
) twelue yere since, Thy father was the Duke of
Millaine
and A Prince of power:
Sir, are not you my Father?
Thy Mother was a peece of vertue, and She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father Was Duke of
Millaine,
and his onely heire, And Princesse; no worse Issued.
O the heauens, What fowle play had we, that we came from thence? Or blessed
was
't we did?
Both, both my Girle. By fowle-play (as thou saist) were we heau'd thence, But blessedly holpe hither.
O my heart bleedes To thinke oth' teene that I haue turn'd you to, Which is from my remembrance, please you, farther;
My brother and thy vncle, call'd
Anthonio:
I pray thee marke me, that a brother should Be so perfidious: he, whom next thy selfe Of all the world I lou'd, and to him put The mannage of my state, as at that time Through all the signories it was the first, And
Prospero,
the prime Duke, being so reputed In dignity; and for the liberall Artes, Without a paralell; those being all my studie, The Gouernment I cast vpon my brother, And to my State grew stranger, being transported And rapt in secret studies, thy false vncle (Do'st thou attend me?)
Sir, most heedefully.
Being once perfected how to graunt suites, how to deny them: who t' aduance, and who To trash for ouer-topping; new created The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd 'em, Or els new form'd 'em; hauing both the key, Of Officer, and office, set all hearts i'th state To what tune pleas'd his eare, that now he was The Iuy which had hid my princely Trunck, And suckt my verdure out on't: Thou attend'st not?
O good Sir, I doe.
I pray thee marke me: I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closenes, and the bettering of my mind with that, which but by being so retir'd Ore-priz'd all popular rate: in my false brother Awak'd an euill nature, and my trust Like a good parent, did beget of him A falsehood in it's contrarie, as great As my trust was, which had indeede no limit, A confidence sans bound. He being thus Lorded, Not onely with what my reuenew yeelded, But what my power might els exact. Like one Who hauing into truth, by telling of it, Made such a synner of his memorie To credite his owne lie, he did beleeue He was indeed the Duke, out o'th' Substitution And executing th' outward face of Roialtie With all prerogatiue: hence his Ambition growing: Do'st thou heare ?
Your tale, Sir, would cure deafenesse.
To haue no Schreene between this part he plaid, And him he plaid it for, he needes will be Absolute
Millaine,
Me (poore man) my Librarie Was Dukedome large enough: of temporall roalties He thinks me now incapable. Confederates (so drie he was for Sway) with King of
Naples
To giue him Annuall tribute, doe him homage Subiect his Coronet, to his Crowne and bend The Dukedom yet vnbow'd (alas poore
Millaine
) To most ignoble stooping.
Oh the heauens:
Marke his condition, and th' euent, then tell me If this might be a brother.
I should sinne To thinke but Noblie of my Grand-mother,
Good wombes haue borne bad sonnes.
Now the Condition. This King of
Naples
being an Enemy To me inueterate, hearkens my Brothers suit, Which was, That he in lieu o'th' premises, Of homage, and I know not how much Tribute, Should presently extirpate me and mine Out of the Dukedome, and confer faire
Millaine
With all the Honors, on my brother: Whereon A treacherous Armie leuied, one mid-night Fated to th' purpose, did
Anthonio
open The gates of
Millaine,
and ith' dead of darkenesse The ministers for th' purpose hurried thence Me, and thy crying selfe.
Alack, for pitty: I not remembring how I cride out then Will cry it ore againe: it is a hint That wrings mine eyes too't.
Heare a little further, And then I'le bring thee to the present businesse Which now's vpon's: without the which, this Story Were most impertinent.
Wherefore did they not That howre destroy vs?
Well demanded, wench: My Tale prouokes that question: Deare, they durst not, So deare the loue my people bore me: nor set A marke so bloudy on the businesse; but With colours fairer, painted their foule ends. In few, they hurried vs a-boord a Barke, Bore vs some Leagues to Sea, where they prepared A rotten carkasse of a Butt, not rigg'd, Nor tackle, sayle, nor mast, the very rats Instinctiuely haue quit it: There they hoyst vs To cry to th' Sea, that roard to vs; to sigh To th' windes, whose pitty sighing backe againe Did vs but louing wrong.
Alack, what trouble Was I then to you?
O, a Cherubin Thou
was
't that did preserue me; Thou didst smile, Infused with a fortitude from heauen, When I haue deck'd the sea with drops full salt, Vnder my burthen groan'd, which rais'd in me An vndergoing stomacke, to beare vp Against what should ensue.
How came we
a
shore?
By prouidence diuine, Some food, we had, and some fresh water, that A noble
Neopolitan Gonzalo
Out of his Charity, (who being then appointed Master of this designe) did giue vs, with Rich garments, linnens, stuffs, and necessaries Which since haue steeded much, so of his gentlenesse Knowing I lou'd my bookes, he furnishd me From mine owne Library, with volumes, that I prize aboue my Dukedome.
Would I might But euer see that man.
Now I arise, Sit still, and heare the last of our sea-sorrow: Heere in this Iland we arriu'd, and heere Haue I, thy Schoolemaster, made thee more profit Then other Princesse can, that haue more time For vainer howres; and Tutors, not so carefull.
Heuens thank you for't. And now I pray you Sir, For still 'tis beating in my minde; your reason For raysing this Sea-storme?
Know thus far forth, By accident most strange, bountifull
Fortune
(Now my deere Lady) hath mine enemies Brought to this shore: And by my prescience I finde my
Zenith
doth depend vpon A most auspitious starre, whose influence If now I court not, but omit; my fortunes Will euer after droope: Heare cease more questions, Thou art inclinde to sleepe: 'tis a good dulnesse, And giue it way: I know thou canst not chuse: Come away, Seruant, come; I am ready now, Approach my
Ariel.
Come.
Enter Ariel.
All haile, great Master, graue Sir, haile: I come To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly, To swim, to diue into the fire: to ride On the curld clowds: to thy strong bidding, taske
Ariel,
and all his Qualitie.
Hast thou, Spirit, Performd to point, the Tempest that I
bad
thee.
To euery Article. I boorded the Kings ship: now on the Beake, Now in the Waste, the Decke, in euery Cabyn, I flam'd amazement, sometime I'ld diuide And burne in many places; on the Top-mast, The Yards and Bore-spritt, would I flame distinctly, Then meete, and ioyne.
Ioues
Lightning, the precursers O'th dreadfull Thunder-claps more momentarie And sight out-running were not; the fire, and cracks Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty
Neptune
Seeme to besiege, and make his bold waues tremble, Yea, his dread Trident shake.
My braue Spirit, Who was so firme, so constant, that this coyle Would not infect his reason?
Not a soule But felt a Feauer of the madde, and plaid Some tricks of desperation; all but Mariners Plung'd in the foaming bryne, and quit the vessell; Then all
a
fire with me the Kings sonne
Ferdinand
With haire vp-staring (then like reeds, not haire) Was the first man that leapt; cride
hell
is empty, And all the Diuels are heere.
Why that's my spirit: But was not this nye shore?
Close by, my Master.
But are they (
Ariell
) safe?
Not a haire perishd: On their sustaining garments not a blemish, But fresher then before: and as thou badst me, In troops I haue dispersd them 'bout the Isle: The Kings sonne haue I landed by himselfe, Whom I left cooling of the Ayre with sighes, In an odde Angle of the Isle, and sitting His armes in this sad knot.
Of the Kings ship, The Marriners, say how thou hast disposd, And all the rest o'th' Fleete?
Safely in harbour Is the Kings shippe, in the deepe Nooke, where once Thou calldst me vp at midnight to fetch dewe From the still-vext
Bermoothes,
there she's hid; The Marriners all vnder hatches stowed, Who, with a Charme ioynd to their suffred labour I haue left asleep: and for the rest o'th' Fleet (Which I dispers'd) they all haue met againe, And are vpon the
Mediterranian
Flote Bound sadly home for
Naples,
Supposing that they saw the Kings ship wrackt, And his great person perish.
Ariel,
thy charge Exactly is perform'd; but there's more worke: What is the time o'th' day?
Past the mid season.
At least two Glasses: the time 'twixt six & now Must by vs both be spent most preciously.
Is there more toyle? Since
dost giue me pains, Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd, Which is not yet perform'd me.
How now? moodie? What is't thou canst demand?
My Libertie.
Before the time be out? no more:
I prethee, Remember I haue done thee worthy seruice, Told thee no lyes, made thee no mistakings, serv'd Without or grudge, or grumblings; thou did promise To bate me a full yeere.
Do'st thou forget From what a torment I did free thee?
No.
Thou do'st: & thinkst it much to tread
Ooze Of the salt deepe; To run vpon the sharpe winde of the North, To doe me businesse in the veines o'th' earth When it is bak'd with frost.
I doe not Sir.
Thou liest, malignant Thing: hast thou forgot The fowle Witch
Sycorax,
who with Age and Enuy Was growne into a hoope? hast thou forgot her?
No Sir.
Thou hast: where was she born? speak: tell me:
Sir, in
Argier.
Oh, was she so: I must Once in a moneth recount what thou hast bin, Which thou forgetst. This damn'd Witch
Sycorax
For mischiefes manifold, and sorceries terrible To enter humane hearing, from
Argier
Thou know'st was banish'd: for one thing she did They wold not take her life: Is not this true?
I
, Sir.
This blew ey'd hag, was hither brought with
child
, And here was left by th' Saylors; thou my slaue, As thou reportst thy selfe, was then her seruant, And for thou wast a Spirit too delicate To act her earthy, and abhord commands, Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee By helpe of her more potent Ministers, And in her most vnmittigable rage, Into a clouen Pyne, within which rift Imprison'd, thou didst painefully remaine A dozen yeeres: within which space she
di
'd, And left thee there: where thou didst vent thy groanes As fast as Mill-wheeles strike: Then was this Island (Saue for the Son, that he did littour heere, A frekelld whelpe, hag-borne) not honour'd with A humane shape.
Yes:
Caliban
her sonne.
Dull thing, I say so: he, that
Caliban
Whom now I keepe in seruice, thou best know'st What torment I did finde thee in; thy grones Did make wolues howle, and penetrate the breasts Of euer-angry Beares; it was a torment To lay vpon the damn'd, which
Sycorax
Could not againe vndoe: it was mine
Art
, When I arriu'd, and heard thee, that made gape The Pyne, and let thee out.
I thanke thee Master.
If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an Oake And peg-thee in his knotty entrailes, till Thou hast howl'd away twelue winters.
Pardon, Master, I will be correspondent to command And doe my spryting, gently.
Doe so: and after two daies I will discharge thee.
That's my noble Master: What shall I doe? say what? what shall I doe?
Goe make thy selfe like a Nymph o'th' Sea, Be subiect to no sight but thine, and mine: inuisible To euery eye-ball else: goe take this shape And hither come in't: goe: hence With diligence.
Exit.
Awake, deere hart awake, thou hast slept
well
, Awake.
The strangenes of your story, put Heauinesse in me.
Shake it off: Come on, Wee'll visit
Caliban,
my slaue, who neuer Yeelds vs kinde answere.
'Tis a villaine Sir, I doe not loue to looke on.
But as 'tis We cannot misse him: he do's make our fire, Fetch in our wood, and serues in Offices That profit vs: What hoa: slaue:
Caliban:
Thou Earth, thou: speake.
There's wood enough within.
Come forth I say, there's other busines for thee: Come thou Tortoys, when?
Enter Ariel like a water-
Nymph
.
Fine apparision: my queint
Ariel,
Hearke in thine eare.
My Lord, it shall be done.
Exit.
Thou poysonous slaue, got by
diuell himselfe Vpon thy wicked Dam; come forth.
Enter Caliban.
As wicked dewe, as ere my mother brush'd With Rauens feather from vnwholesome Fen Drop on you both: A Southwest blow on yee, And blister you all ore.
For this be sure, to night thou shalt haue cramps, Side-stitches, that shall pen thy breath vp, Vrchins Shall for that vast of night, that they may worke All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd As thicke as hony-combe, each pinch more stinging Then Bees that made 'em.
I must eat my dinner: This Island's mine by
Sycorax
my mother, Which thou tak'st from me: when thou cam'st first Thou stroakst me, & made much of me: wouldst giue me Water with berries in't: and teach me how To name the bigger Light, and how the lesse That burne by day, and night: and then I lou'd thee And shew'd thee all the qualities o'th' Isle, The fresh Springs, Brine-pits; barren place and fertill, Curs'd be I that did so: All the Charmes Of
Sycorax:
Toades, Beetles, Batts light on you: For I am all the Subiects that you haue, Which first was min owne King: and here you sty-me In this hard Rocke, whiles you doe keepe from me The rest o'th' Island.
Thou most lying slaue, Whom stripes may moue, not kindnes: I haue vs'd thee (Filth as thou art) with humane care, and lodg'd thee In mine owne Cell, till thou didst seeke to violate The honor of my childe.
Oh ho, oh ho, would't had bene done: Thou didst preuent me, I had peopel'd else This Isle with
Calibans.
Abhorred Slaue, Which any print of goodnesse wilt not take, Being capable of all
ill
: I pittied thee, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each houre One thing or other: when thou didst not (Sauage) Know thine owne meaning; but wouldst gabble, like A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes With words that made them knowne: But thy vild race (Tho thou didst learn) had that in't, which good natures Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou Deseruedly confin'd into this Rocke, who hadst Deseru'd more then a prison.
You taught me Language, and my profit on't Is, I know how to curse: the red-plague rid you For learning me your language.
Hag-seed, hence: Fetch vs in Fewell, and be quicke thou'rt best To answer other businesse: shrug'st thou (Malice) If thou neglectst, or dost vnwillingly What I command, Ile racke thee with old Crampes, Fill all thy bones with Aches, make thee rore, That beasts shall tremble at thy dyn.
No, 'pray thee. I must obey, his
Art
is of such pow'r, It would controll my Dams god
Setebos,
And make a vassaile of him.
So slaue, hence.
Exit Cal.
Enter Ferdinand & Ariel, inuisible playing & singing.
Come vnto these yellow sands, and then take hands: Curtsied when you haue, and kist the wilde waues whist: Foote it featly heere, and there, and sweete Sprights beare the burthen.
Burthen dispersedly.
Harke, harke, bowgh wawgh: the watch-Dogges barke, bowgh-wawgh.
Hark, hark, I heare, the straine of strutting Chanticlere cry cockadidle-dowe.
Where shold this Musick be? I'th aire, or th' earth? It sounds no more: and sure it waytes vpon Some God o'th' Iland, sitting on a banke, Weeping againe the King my Fathers wracke. This Musicke crept by me vpon the waters, Allaying both their fury, and my passion With it's sweet ayre: thence I haue follow'd it (Or it hath drawne me rather) but 'tis gone. No, it begins againe.
Full fadom fiue thy Father lies, Of his bones are Corrall made: Those are pearles that were his eies, Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a Sea-change Into something rich, & strange: Sea-Nimphs hourly ring his knell.
Burthen:
ding dong.
Harke now I heare them, ding-dong bell.
The Ditty do's remember my drown'd father, This is no mortall busines, nor no sound That the earth owes: I heare it now aboue me.
The fringed Curtaines of thine eye aduance, And say what thou see'st yond.
What is't a Spirit? Lord, how it lookes about: Beleeue me sir, It carries a braue forme. But 'tis a spirit.
No wench, it eats, and sleeps, & hath such senses As we haue: such. This Gallant which thou seest Was in the wracke: and but hee's something stain'd With greefe (that's beauties canker)
might'st call him A goodly person: he hath lost his fellowes, And strayes about to finde 'em.
I might call him A thing diuine, for nothing naturall I euer saw so Noble.
It goes on I see As my soule prompts it: Spirit, fine spirit, Ile free thee Within two dayes for this.
Most sure the Goddesse On whom these ayres attend: Vouchsafe my pray'r May know if you remaine vpon this Island, And that you will some good instruction giue How I may beare me heere: my prime request (Which I do last pronounce) is (O you wonder) If you be Mayd, or no?
No wonder Sir, But certainly a Mayd.
My Language? Heauens: I am the best of them that speake this speech, Were I but where 'tis spoken.
How? the best? What wer't thou if the King of
Naples
heard thee?
A single thing, as I am now, that wonders To heare thee speake of
Naples:
he do's heare me, And that he do's, I weepe: my selfe am
Naples,
Who, with mine eyes (neuer since at ebbe) beheld The King my Father wrack't.
Alacke, for mercy.
Yes faith, & all his Lords, the Duke of
Millaine
And his braue sonne, being twaine.
The Duke of
Millaine
And his more brauer daughter, could controll thee If now 'twere fit to do't: At the first sight They haue chang'd eyes: Delicate
Ariel,
Ile set thee free for this. A word good Sir, I feare you haue done your selfe some wrong: A word.
Why speakes my father so vngently? This Is the third man that ere I saw: the first That ere I sigh'd for: pitty moue my father To be enclin'd my way.
O, if a Virgin, And your affection not gone forth, Ile make you The Queene of
Naples.
Soft sir, one word more. They are both in eythers pow'rs: But this swift busines I must vneasie make, least too light winning Make the prize light. One word more: I charge thee That thou attend me: Thou do'st heere vsurpe The name thou ow'st not, and hast put thy selfe Vpon this Island, as a spy, to win it From me, the Lord on't.
No, as I am a man.
Ther's nothing
ill
, can dwell in such a Temple, If the ill-spirit haue so fayre a house, Good things will striue to dwell with't.
Follow me.
Speake not you for him: hee's a Traitor: come, Ile manacle thy necke and feete together: Sea water shalt thou drinke: thy food shall be The fresh-brooke Mussels, wither'd roots, and huskes Wherein the Acorne cradled. Follow.
No, I will resist such entertainment, till Mine enemy ha's more pow'r.
He drawes, and is charmed from mouing.
O deere Father, Make not too rash a triall of him, for Hee's gentle, and not fearfull.
What I say, My foote my Tutor? Put thy sword vp Traitor, Who mak'st a shew, but dar'st not strike: thy conscience Is so possest with guilt: Come, from thy ward, For I can heere disarme thee with this sticke, And make thy weapon drop.
Beseech you Father.
Hence: hang not on my garments.
Sir haue pity, Ile be his surety.
Silence: One word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee: What, An aduocate for an Impostor? Hush: Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he, (Hauing seene but him and
Caliban:
) Foolish wench, To th' most of men, this is a
Caliban,
And they to him are Angels.
My affections Are then most humble: I haue no ambition To see a goodlier man.
Come on, obey: Thy Nerues are in their infancy againe. And haue no vigour in them.
So they are: My spirits, as in a dreame, are all bound vp: My Fathers losse, the weaknesse which I feele, The wracke of all my friends, nor this mans threats, To whom I am subdude, are but light to me, Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this Mayd: all corners else o'th' Earth Let liberty make vse of: space enough Haue I in such a prison.
It workes: Come on. Thou hast done well, fine
Ariell:
follow me, Harke what thou else shalt do mee.
Be of comfort, My Fathers of a better nature (Sir) Then he appeares by speech: this is vnwonted Which now came from him.
Thou shalt be as free As mountaine windes; but then exactly do All points of my command.
To th' syllable.
Come follow: speake not for him.
Exeunt.
Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, and others.
Beseech you Sir, be merry; you haue cause, (So haue we all) of ioy; for our escape Is much beyond our losse; our hint of woe Is common, euery day, some Saylors wife, The Masters of some Merchant, and the Merchant Haue iust our Theame of woe: But for the miracle, (I meane our preseruation) few in millions Can speake like vs: then wisely (good Sir) weigh Our sorrow, with our comfort.
Prethee peace.
He receiues comfort like cold porredge.
The Visitor will not giue him ore so.
Looke, hee's winding vp the watch of his wit,
By
and by it will strike.
Sir.
One: Tell.
When euery greefe is entertaind, That's offer'd comes to th' entertainer.
A dollor.
Dolour comes to him indeed, you haue spoken truer then you purpos'd.
You haue taken it wiselier then I meant you should.
Therefore my Lord.
Fie, what a spend-thrift is he of his tongue.
I pre-thee spare.
Well, I haue done: But yet
He will be talking.
Which, of he, or Adrian, for a good wager, First begins to crow?
The old Cocke.
The Cockrell.
Done: The wager?
A Laughter.
A match.
Though this Island seeme to be desert.
Ha, ha, ha.
So:
you
'r paid.
Vninhabitable, and almost inaccessible.
Yet
Yet
He could not misse't.
It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance.
Temperance
was a delicate wench.
I
, and a subtle, as he most learnedly deliuer'd.
The ayre breathes vpon vs here most sweetly.
As if it had Lungs, and rotten ones.
Or, as 'twere perfum'd by a Fen.
Heere is euery thing aduantageous to life.
True, saue meanes to liue.
Of that there's none, or little.
How lush and lusty the grasse lookes? How greene?
The ground indeed is tawny.
With an eye of greene in't.
He misses not much.
No: he doth but mistake the truth totally.
But the rariety of it is, which is indeed almost beyond credit.
As many voucht rarieties are.
That our Garments being (as they were) drencht in the Sea, hold notwithstanding their freshnesse and glosses, being rather new dy'de then stain'd with salte water.
If but one of his pockets could speake, would it not say he lyes?
I
, or very falsely pocket vp his report.
Me thinkes our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Affricke, at the marriage of the kings faire daughter
Claribel
to the king of
Tunis.
'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our returne.
Tunis
was neuer grac'd before with such a Pa- ragon to their Queene.
Not since widdow
Dido's
time.
Widow? A pox o'that: how came that Wid- dow in? Widdow
Dido
!
What if he had said Widdower
Aeneas
too? Good Lord, how you take it?
Widdow
Dido
said you? You make me study of that: She was of
Carthage,
not of
Tunis.
This
Tunis
Sir was
Carthage.
Carthage
?
I assure you
Carthage.
His word is more then the miraculous Harpe.
He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too.
What impossible matter wil he make easy next?
I thinke hee will carry this Island home in his pocket, and giue it his sonne for an Apple.
And sowing the kernels of it in the Sea, bring forth more Islands.
I
.
Why in good time.
Sir, we were talking, that our garments seeme now as fresh as when we were at
Tunis
at the marriage of your daughter, who is now Queene.
And the rarest that ere came there.
Bate (I beseech you) widdow
Dido.
O Widdow
Dido
?
I
, Widdow
Dido.
Is not Sir my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I meane in a sort.
That sort was well fish'd for.
When I wore it at your daughters marriage.
You cram these words into mine eares, against the stomacke of my sense: would I had neuer Married my daughter there: For comming thence My sonne is lost, and (in my rate) she too, Who is so farre from
Italy
remoued, I ne're againe shall see her: O thou mine heire Of
Naples
and of
Millaine,
what strange fish Hath made his meale on thee?
Sir he may liue, I saw him beate the surges vnder him, And ride vpon their backes; he trod the water Whose enmity he flung aside: and brested The surge most swolne that met him: his bold head 'Boue the contentious waues he kept, and oared Himselfe with his good armes in lusty stroke To th' shore; that ore his waue-worne basis bowed As stooping to releeue him: I not doubt He came aliue to Land.
No, no, hee's gone.
Sir you may thank your selfe for this great losse, That would not blesse our Europe with your daughter, But rather loose her to an Affrican, Where she at least, is banish'd from your eye, Who hath cause to wet the greefe on't.
Pre-thee peace.
You were kneel'd
too
, & importun'd otherwise By all of vs: and the faire soule her selfe Waigh'd betweene loathnesse, and obedience, at Which end o'th' beame should bow: we haue lost your
son
, I feare for euer:
Millaine
and
Naples
haue Mo widdowes in them of this businesse making, Then we bring men to comfort them: The faults your owne.
So is the deer'st oth' losse.
My Lord
Sebastian,
The truth you speake doth lacke some gentlenesse, And time to speake it in: you rub the sore, When you should bring the plaister.
Very well.
And most Chirurgeonly.
It is foule weather in vs all, good Sir, When you are cloudy.
Fowle weather?
Very foule.
Had I plantation of this Isle my Lord.
Hee'd sow't with Nettle-seed.
Or dockes, or Mallowes.
And were the King on't, what would I do?
Scape being drunke, for want of Wine.
I'th' Commonwealth I would (by contraries) Execute all things: For no kinde of Trafficke Would I admit: No name of Magistrate: Letters should not be knowne: Riches, pouerty, And vse of seruice, none: Contract, Succession, Borne, bound of Land, Tilth, Vineyard none: No vse of Mettall, Corne, or Wine, or Oyle: No occupation, all men idle, all: And Women too, but innocent and pure: No Soueraignty.
Yet he would be King on't.
The latter end of his Common-wealth forgets the beginning.
All things in common Nature should produce Without sweat or endeuour: Treason, fellony, Sword, Pike, Knife, Gun, or neede of any Engine Would I not haue: but Nature should bring forth Of
it
owne kinde, all foyzon, all abundance To feed my innocent people.
No marrying 'mong his subiects?
None (man) all idle; Whores and knaues,
I would with such perfection gouerne Sir: T' Excell the Golden Age.
'Saue his Maiesty.
Long liue
Gonzalo.
And do you marke me, Sir?
Pre-thee no more: thou dost talke nothing to
me.
I do
well
beleeue your Highnesse, and did it to minister occasion to these Gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble Lungs, that they alwayes vse to laugh at nothing.
'Twas you we laugh'd at.
Who, in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.
What a blow was there giuen?
And
it had not falne flat-long.
You are Gentlemen of braue mettal: you would lift the Moone out of her spheare, if she would continue in it fiue weekes without changing.
Enter Ariell playing solemne Musicke.
We would so, and then go
a
Bat-fowling.
Nay good my Lord, be not angry.
No I warrant you, I will not aduenture my discretion so weakly: Will you laugh me asleepe, for I am very heauy.
Go sleepe, and heare vs.
What, all so soone asleepe? I wish mine eyes Would (with themselues) shut vp my thoughts, I finde they are inclin'd to do so.
Please you Sir, Do not omit the heauy offer of it: It sildome visits sorrow, when it doth, it is a Comforter.
We two my Lord, will guard your person, While you take your rest, and watch your safety.
Thanke you: Wondrous heauy.
What a strange drowsines possesses them?
It is the quality o'th' Clymate.
Why Doth it not then our eye-lids sinke? I finde Not my selfe dispos'd to sleep.
Nor I, my spirits are nimble: They fell together all, as by consent They dropt, as by a Thunder-stroke: what might Worthy
Sebastian
? O, what might? no more: And yet, me thinkes I see it in thy face, What thou should'st be: th' occasion speaks thee, and My strong imagination see's a Crowne Dropping vpon thy head.
What? art thou waking?
Do you not heare me speake?
I do, and surely It is a sleepy Language; and thou speak'st Out of thy sleepe: What is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleepe With eyes wide open: standing, speaking, mouing: And yet so fast asleepe.
Noble
Sebastian,
Thou let'st thy fortune sleepe: die rather: wink'st Whiles thou art waking.
Thou do'st snore distinctly, There's meaning in thy snores.
I am more serious then my custome: you Must be so too, if heed me: which to do, Trebbles thee o're.
Well: I am standing water.
Ile teach you how to flow.
Do so: to ebbe Hereditary Sloth instructs me.
O! If you but knew how you the purpose cherish Whiles thus you mocke it: how in stripping it You more inuest it: ebbing men, indeed (Most often) do so neere the bottome run By their owne feare, or sloth.
'Pre-thee say on, The setting of thine eye, and cheeke proclaime A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed, Which throwes thee much to yeeld.
Thus Sir: Although this Lord of weake remembrance; this Who shall be of as little memory When he is earth'd, hath here almost perswaded (For hee's a Spirit of perswasion, onely Professes to perswade) the King his sonne's aliue, 'Tis as impossible that hee's vndrown'd, As he that sleepes heere, swims.
I haue no hope That hee's vndrown'd.
O, out of that no hope, What great hope haue you? No hope that way, Is Another way so high a hope, that euen Ambition cannot pierce a winke beyond But doubt discouery there. Will you grant with me That
Ferdinand
is drown'd.
He's gone.
Then tell me, who's the next heire of
Naples
?
Claribell.
She that is Queene of
Tunis:
she that dwels Ten leagues beyond mans life: she that from
Naples
Can haue no note, vnlesse the Sun were post: The Man i'th Moone's too slow, till new-borne chinnes Be rough, and Razor-able: She that from whom We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast againe, (And by that destiny) to performe an act Whereof, what's past is Prologue; what to come In yours, and my discharge.
What stuffe is this? How say you? 'Tis true my brothers daughter's Queene of
Tunis,
So is she heyre of
Naples,
'twixt which Regions There is some space.
A space, whose eu'ry cubit Seemes to cry out, how shall that
Claribell
Measure vs backe to
Naples
? keepe in
Tunis,
And let
Sebastian
wake. Say, this were death That now hath seiz'd them, why they were no worse Then now they are: There be that can rule
Naples
As well as he that sleepes: Lords, that can prate As amply, and vnnecessarily As this
Gonzallo:
I my selfe could make A Chough of as deepe chat: O, that you bore The minde that I do; what a sleepe were this For your aduancement? Do you vnderstand me?
Me thinkes I do.
And how do's your content Tender your owne good fortune?
I remember You did supplant your Brother
Prospero.
True: And looke how well my Garments sit vpon me, Much feater then before: My Brothers seruants Were then my fellowes, now they are my men.
But for your conscience.
I
Sir: where lies that? If 'twere a kybe 'Twould put me to my slipper: But I feele not This Deity in my bosome: 'Twentie consciences That stand 'twixt me, and
Millaine,
candied be they, And melt ere they mollest: Heere lies your Brother, No better then the earth he lies vpon, If he were that which now hee's like (that's dead) Whom I with this obedient steele (three inches of it) Can lay to bed for euer: whiles you doing thus, To the perpetuall winke for aye might put This ancient morsell: this Sir Prudence, who Should not vpbraid our course: for all the rest They'l take suggestion, as a Cat laps milke, They'l tell the clocke, to any businesse that We say befits the houre.
Thy case, deere Friend Shall be my president: As thou got'st
Millaine,
I'le come by
Naples:
Draw thy sword, one stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou paiest, And I the King shall loue thee.
Draw together: And when I reare my hand, do you the like To fall it on
Gonzalo.
O, but one word.
Enter Ariell with Musicke and Song.
My Master through his
Art
foresees the danger That you (his friend) are in, and sends me forth (For else his proiect dies) to keepe them liuing.
Sings in Gonzaloes eare.
While you here do snoaring lie, Open-ey'd Conspiracie His time doth take:
If of Life you keepe a care, Shake off slumber and beware. Awake, awake.
Then let vs both be sodaine.
Now, good Angels preserue the King.
Why how now hoa; awake? why are you drawn? Wherefore this ghastly looking?
What's the matter?
Whiles we stood here securing your repose, (Euen now) we heard a hollow burst of bellowing Like Buls, or rather Lyons, did't not wake you? It strooke mine eare most terribly.
I heard nothing.
O, 'twas a din to fright a Monsters eare; To make an earthquake: sure it was the roare Of a whole heard of Lyons.
Heard you this
Gonzalo
?
Vpon mine honour, Sir, I heard a humming, (And that a strange one too) which did awake me: I shak'd you Sir, and cride: as mine eyes opend, I saw their weapons drawne: there was a noyse, That's verily: 'tis best we stand vpon our guard; Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons.
Lead off this ground & let's make further search For my poore sonne.
Heauens keepe him from these Beasts: For he is sure i'th Island.
Lead away.
Prospero
my Lord, shall know what I haue
done.
So (King) goe safely on to seeke thy Son.
Exeunt.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter
Caliban,
with a burthen of Wood (a noyse of thunder heard.)
All the infections that the Sunne suckes vp From Bogs, Fens, Flats, on
Prosper
fall, and make him By ynch-meale a disease: his Spirits heare me, And yet I needes must curse. But they'll nor pinch, Fright me with Vrchyn-shewes, pitch me i'th mire, Nor lead me like a fire-brand, in the darke Out of my way, vnlesse he bid 'em; but For euery trifle, are they set vpon me, Sometime like Apes, that moe and chatter at me, And after bite me: then like Hedg-hogs, which Lye tumbling in my bare-foote way, and mount Their pricks at my foot-fall: sometime am I All wound with Adders, who with clouen tongues Doe hisse me into madnesse: Lo, now Lo,
Enter
Trinculo.
Here comes a Spirit of his, and to torment me For bringing wood in slowly: I'le fall flat, Perchance he will not minde me.
Here's neither bush, nor shrub to beare off any weather at all: and another Storme brewing, I heare it sing ith' winde: yond same blacke cloud, yond huge one, lookes like a foule bumbard that would shed his licquor: if it should thunder, as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by paile-fuls. What haue we here, a man, or a fish? dead or aliue? a fish, hee smels like a fish: a very ancient and fish-like smell: a kinde of, not of the newest poore-Iohn: a strange fish: were I in
England
now (as once I was) and had but this fish painted; not a holiday-foole there but would giue a peece of siluer: there, would this Monster, make a man: any strange beast there, makes a man: when they will not giue a doit to relieue a lame Begger, they will lay out ten to see a dead
Indian:
Leg'd like a man; and his Finnes like Armes: warme o'my troth: I doe now let loose my o- pinion; hold it no longer; this is no fish, but an Islan- der, that hath lately suffered by a Thunderbolt: Alas, the storme is come againe: my best way is to creepe vn- der his Gaberdine: there is no other shelter herea- bout: Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfel- lowes: I will here shrowd till the dregges of the storme be past.
Enter Stephano singing.
I shall no more to sea, to sea, here shall I dye ashore.
This is a very scuruy tune to sing at a mans Funerall: well, here's my comfort.
Drinkes.
Sings.
The Master, the Swabber, the Boate-swaine & I; The Gunner, and his Mate Lou'd Mall, Meg, and Marrian, and Margerie, But none of vs car'd for Kate. For she had a tongue with a tang, Would cry to a Sailor goe hang: She lou'd not the sauour of Tar nor of Pitch, Yet a Tailor might scratch her where ere she did itch. Then to Sea Boyes, and let her goe hang.
This is a scuruy tune too: But here's my comfort.
drinks.
Doe not torment me: oh.
What's the matter? Haue we diuels here? Doe you put trickes vpon's with Saluages, and Men of Inde? ha? I haue not scap'd drowning, to be afeard now of your foure legges: for it hath bin said; as pro- per a man as euer went on foure legs, cannot make him giue ground: and it shall be said so againe, while
Ste-phano
breathes at' nostrils.
The Spirit torments me: oh.
This is some Monster of the Isle, with foure legs; who hath got (as I take it) an Ague: where the diuell should he learne our language? I will giue him some re- liefe if it be but for that: if I can recouer him, and keepe him tame, and get to
Naples
with him, he's a Pre- sent for any Emperour that euer trod on Neates-lea- ther.
Doe not torment me 'prethee: I'le bring my wood home faster.
He's in his fit now; and doe's not talke after the wisest; hee shall taste of my Bottle: if hee haue neuer drunke wine afore, it will goe neere to remoue his Fit: if I can recouer him, and keepe him tame, I will not take too much for him; hee shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly.
Thou do'st me yet but little hurt; thou wilt a- non, I know it by thy trembling: Now
Prosper
workes vpon thee.
Come on your wayes: open your mouth: here is that which will giue language to you Cat; open your mouth; this will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly: you cannot tell who's your friend; open your chaps againe.
I should know that voyce: It should be, But hee is dround; and these are diuels; O de- fend me.
Foure legges and two voyces; a most delicate Monster: his forward voyce now is to speake well of his friend; his backward voice, is to vtter foule speeches, and to detract: if all the wine in my bottle will recouer him, I will helpe his Ague: Come: Amen, I will poure some in thy other mouth.
Stephano.
Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy: This is a diuell, and no Monster: I will leaue him, I haue no long Spoone.
Stephano:
if thou beest
Stephano,
touch me, and speake to me: for I am
Trinculo;
be not afeard, thy good friend
Trinculo.
If thou bee'st
Trinculo:
come forth: I'le pull thee by the lesser legges: if any be
Trinculo's
legges, these are they: Thou art very
Trinculo
indeede: how cam'st thou to be the siege of this Moone-calfe? Can he vent
Trinculo's
?
I tooke him to be kil'd with a thunder-strok; but art thou not dround
Stephano:
I hope now thou art not dround: Is the Storme ouer-blowne? I hid mee vnder the dead Moone-Calfes Gaberdine, for feare of the Storme: And art thou liuing
Stephano
? O
Stephano,
two
Neapolitanes
scap'd?
'Prethee doe not turne me about, my stomacke is not constant.
These be fine things,
and
if they be not sprights: that's a braue God, and beares Celestiall liquor: I will kneele to him.
How did'st thou scape? How cam'st thou hither? Sweare by this Bottle how thou cam'st hither: I escap'd vpon a
But
of Sacke, which the Saylors heaued o're- boord, by this Bottle which I made of the barke of a Tree, with mine owne hands, since I was cast a'-shore.
I'le sweare vpon that Bottle, to be thy true sub- iect, for the liquor is not earthly.
Heere: sweare then how thou escap'dst.
Swom ashore (man) like a Ducke: I can swim like a Ducke i'le be sworne.
Here, kisse the Booke. Though thou canst swim like a Ducke, thou art made like a Goose.
O
Stephano,
ha'st any more of this?
The whole
But
(man) my Cellar is in a rocke by th' sea-side, where my Wine is hid: How now Moone-Calfe, how do's thine Ague?
Ha'st thou not dropt from heauen?
Out o'th Moone I doe assure thee. I was the Man ith' Moone, when time was.
I haue seene thee in her: and I doe adore thee: My Mistris shew'd me thee, and thy Dog, and thy Bush.
Come, sweare to that: kisse the Booke: I will furnish it anon with new Contents: Sweare.
By this good light, this is a very shallow Mon- ster: I afeard of him? a very weake Monster: The Man ith' Moone? A most poore creadulous Monster: Well drawne Monster, in good sooth.
Ile shew thee euery fertill ynch o'th Island: and I will kisse thy foote: I prethee be my god.
By this light, a most perfidious, and drunken Monster, when's god's
a
sleepe he'll rob his Bottle.
Ile kisse thy foot, Ile sweare my selfe thy Subiect.
Come on then: downe and sweare.
I shall laugh my selfe to death at this puppi-hea- ded Monster: a most scuruie Monster: I could finde in my heart to beate him.
Come, kisse.
But that the poore Monster's in drinke: An abhominable Monster.
I'le shew thee the best Springs: I'le plucke thee Berries: I'le fish for thee; and get thee wood enough. A plague vpon the Tyrant that I serue; I'le beare him no more Stickes, but follow thee, thou wondrous man.
A most rediculous Monster, to make a wonder of a poore drunkard.
I 'prethee let me bring thee where Crabs grow; and I with my long nayles will digge thee pig-nuts; show thee a Iayes nest, and instruct thee how to snare the nimble Marmazet: I'le bring thee to clustring Philbirts, and sometimes I'le get thee young Scamels from the Rocke: Wilt thou goe with me?
I pre'thee now lead the way without any more talking.
Trinculo,
the King, and all our company else being dround, wee will inherit here: Here; beare my Bottle: Fellow
Trinculo;
we'll fill him
by
and by a- gaine.
Caliban Sings drunkenly.
Farewell Master; farewell, farewell.
A howling Monster: a drunken Monster.
No more dams I'le make for fish, Nor fetch in firing, at requiring, Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish, Ban' ban' Cacalyban Has a new Master, get a new Man.
Freedome, high-day, high-day freedome, freedome high- day, freedome.
O braue Monster; lead the way.
Exeunt.
Actus Tertius. Scoena Prima.
Enter Ferdinand (bearing a Log.)
There be some Sports are painfull; & their labor Delight in them set off: Some kindes of basenesse Are nobly vndergon; and most poore matters Point to rich ends: this my meane Taske Would be as heauy to me, as odious, but The Mistris which I serue, quickens what's dead, And makes my labours, pleasures: O She is Ten times more gentle, then her Father's crabbed; And he's compos'd of harshnesse. I must remoue Some thousands of these Logs, and pile them vp, Vpon a sore iniunction; my sweet Mistris Weepes when she sees me worke, & saies, such basenes Had neuer like Executor: I forget: But these sweet thoughts, doe euen refresh my labours, Most busie lest, when I doe it.
Enter Miranda
and Prospero.
Alas, now pray you Worke not so hard: I would the lightning had Burnt vp those Logs that you are enioynd to pile: Pray set it downe, and rest you: when this burnes 'Twill weepe for hauing wearied you: my Father Is hard at study; pray now rest your selfe,
Hee's safe for these three houres.
O most deere Mistris The Sun will set before I shall discharge What I must striue to do.
If you'l sit downe Ile beare your Logges the while: pray giue me that, Ile carry it to the pile.
No precious Creature, I had rather cracke my sinewes, breake my backe, Then you should such dishonor vndergoe, While I sit lazy by.
It would become me As well as it do's you; and I should do it With much more ease: for my good
will
is to it, And yours it is against.
Poore worme thou art infected, This visitation shewes it.
You looke wearily.
No, noble Mistris, 'tis fresh morning with me When you are by at night: I do beseech you Cheefely, that I might set it in my prayers, What is your name?
Miranda,
O my Father, I haue broke your hest to say so.
Admir'd
Miranda,
Indeede the top of Admiration, worth What's deerest to the world: full many a Lady I haue ey'd with best regard, and many a time Th' harmony of their tongues, hath into bondage Brought my too diligent eare: for seuerall vertues Haue I lik'd seuerall women, neuer any With so full soule, but some defect in her Did quarrell with the noblest grace she ow'd, And put it to the foile. But you, O you, So perfect, and so peerlesse, are created Of euerie Creatures best.
I do not know One of my sexe; no womans face remember, Saue from my glasse, mine owne: Nor haue I seene More that I may call men, then you good friend, And my deere Father: how features are abroad I am skillesse of; but by my modestie (The iewell in my dower) I would not wish Any Companion in the world but you: Nor can imagination forme a shape Besides your selfe, to like of: but I prattle Something too wildely, and my Fathers precepts I therein do forget.
I am, in my condition A Prince (
Miranda
) I do thinke a King (I would not so) and would no more endure This wodden slauerie, then to suffer The flesh-flie blow my mouth: heare my soule speake. The verie instant that I saw you, did My heart flie to your seruice, there resides To make me slaue to it, and for your sake Am I this patient Logge-man.
Do you loue me?
O heauen; O earth, beare witnes to this sound, And crowne what I professe with kinde euent If I speake true: if hollowly, inuert What best is boaded me, to mischiefe: I, Beyond all limit of what else i'th world Do loue, prize, honor you.
I am a foole To weepe at what I am glad of.
Faire encounter Of two most rare affections: heauens raine grace On that which breeds betweene 'em.
Wherefore weepe you?
At mine vnworthinesse, that dare not offer What I desire to giue; and much lesse take What I shall die to want: But this is trifling, And all the more it seekes to hide it selfe, The bigger bulke it shewes. Hence bashfull cunning, And prompt me plaine and holy innocence. I am your wife, if you will marrie me; If not, Ile die your maid: to be your fellow You may denie me, but Ile be your seruant Whether you will or no.
My Mistris (deerest) And I thus humble euer.
My husband then?
I
, with a heart as willing As bondage ere of freedome: heere's my hand.
And mine, with my heart in't; and now farewel Till halfe an houre hence.
A thousand, thousand.
Exeunt.
So glad of this as they I cannot be, Who are surpriz'd with all; but my reioycing At nothing can be more: Ile to my booke, For yet ere supper time, must I performe Much businesse appertaining.
Exit.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo.
Tell not me, when the
But
is out we will drinke water, not a drop before; therefore beare vp, & boord em' Seruant Monster, drinke to me.
Seruant Monster? the folly of this Iland, they say there's but fiue vpon this Isle; we are three of them, if th' other two be brain'd like vs, the State totters.
Drinke seruant Monster when I bid thee, thy eies are almost set in thy head.
Where should they bee set else? hee were a braue Monster indeede if they were set in his taile.
My man-Monster hath drown'd his tongue in sacke: for my part the Sea cannot drowne mee, I swam ere I could recouer the shore, fiue and thirtie Leagues off and on, by this light thou shalt bee my Lieutenant Monster, or my Standard.
Your Lieutenant if you list, hee's no standard.
Weel not run Monsieur Monster.
Nor go neither: but you'l lie like dogs, and yet say nothing neither.
Moone-calfe, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a good Moone-calfe.
How does thy honour? Let me licke thy shooe: Ile not serue him, he is not valiant.
Thou liest most ignorant Monster, I am in case to iustle a Constable: why, thou debosh'd Fish thou, was there euer man a Coward, that hath drunk so much Sacke as I to day? wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but halfe a Fish, and halfe a Monster?
Loe, how he mockes me, wilt thou let him my Lord?
Lord, quoth he? that a Monster should be such a Naturall?
Loe, loe againe: bite him to death I prethee.
Trinculo,
keepe a good tongue in your head: If you proue a mutineere, the next Tree: the poore Mon-ster's my subiect, and he shall not suffer indignity.
I thanke my noble Lord. Wilt thou be pleas'd to hearken once againe to the suite I made to thee?
Marry will I: kneele, and repeate it, I will stand, and so shall
Trinculo.
Enter Ariell inuisible.
As I told thee before, I am subiect to a Tirant, A Sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me Of the Island.
Thou lyest.
Thou lyest, thou iesting Monkey thou: I would my valiant Master would destroy thee. I do not lye.
Trinculo,
if you trouble him any more in's tale, By this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth.
Why, I said nothing.
Mum then, and no more: proceed.
I say by Sorcery he got this Isle From me, he got it. If thy Greatnesse will Reuenge it on him, (for I know thou dar'st) But this Thing dare not.
That's most certaine.
Thou shalt be Lord of it, and Ile serue thee.
How now shall this be compast? Canst thou bring me to the party?
Yea, yea my Lord, Ile yeeld him thee asleepe, Where thou maist knocke a naile into his head.
Thou liest, thou canst not.
What a py'de Ninnie's this? Thou scuruy patch: I do beseech thy Greatnesse giue him blowes, And take his bottle from him: When that's gone, He shall drinke nought but brine, for Ile not shew him Where the quicke Freshes are.
Trinculo,
run into no further danger: Interrupt the Monster one word further, and by this hand, Ile turne my mercie out o' doores, and make a Stockfish of thee.
Why, what did I? I did nothing: Ile go farther off.
Didst thou not say he lyed?
Thou liest.
Do I so? Take thou that, As you like this, giue me the lye another time.
I did not giue the lie: Out o'your wittes, and hearing too? A pox o'your bottle, this can Sacke and drinking doo: A murren on your Monster, and the diuell take your fingers.
Ha, ha, ha.
Now forward with your Tale: prethee stand further off.
Beate him enough: after a little time Ile beate him too.
Stand farther: Come proceede.
Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custome with him I'th afternoone to sleepe: there thou maist braine him, Hauing first seiz'd his bookes: Or with a logge Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake, Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember First to possesse his Bookes; for without them Hee's but a Sot, as I am; nor hath not One Spirit to command: they all do hate him As rootedly as I. Burne but his Bookes, He ha's braue Vtensils (for so he calles them) Which when he ha's a house, hee'l decke withall. And that most deeply to consider, is The beautie of his daughter: he himselfe Cals her a non-pareill: I neuer saw a woman But onely
Sycorax
my Dam, and she; But she as farre surpasseth
Sycorax,
As great'st do's least.
Is it so braue a Lasse?
I
Lord, she will become thy bed, I warrant, And bring thee forth braue brood.
Monster, I will kill this man: his daughter and I will be King and Queene, saue our Graces: and
Trin-culo
and thy selfe shall be Vice- royes: Dost thou like the plot
Trinculo
?
Excellent.
Giue me thy hand, I am sorry I beate thee: But while thou liu'st keepe a good tongue in thy head.
Within this halfe houre will he be asleepe, Wilt thou destroy him then?
I
on mine honour.
This will I tell my Master.
Thou mak'st me merry: I am full of pleasure, Let vs be iocond. Will you troule the Catch You taught me but whileare?
At thy request Monster, I will do reason, Any reason: Come on
Trinculo,
let vs sing.
Sings.
Flout 'em, and cout 'em: and skowt 'em, and flout 'em, Thought is free.
That's not the tune.
Ariell plaies the tune on a Tabor and Pipe.
What is this same?
This is the tune of our Catch, plaid by the pic- ture of No-body.
If thou beest a man, shew thy selfe in thy likenes: If thou beest a diuell, take't as thou list.
O forgiue me my sinnes.
He that dies payes all debts: I defie thee; Mercy vpon vs.
Art thou affeard?
No Monster, not I.
Be not affeard, the Isle is full of noyses, Sounds, and sweet aires, that giue delight and hurt not: Sometimes a thousand twangling Instruments Will hum about mine eares; and sometime voices, That if I then had wak'd after long sleepe, Will make me sleepe againe, and then in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and shew riches Ready to drop vpon me, that when I wak'd I cri'de to dreame againe.
This will proue a braue kingdome to me, Where I shall haue my Musicke for nothing.
When
Prospero
is destroy'd.
That shall be
by
and by: I remember the storie.
The sound is going away, Lets follow it, and after do our worke.
Leade Monster, Wee'l follow: I would I could see this Taborer, He layes it on.
Wilt come? Ile follow
Stephano.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzallo, Adrian, Francisco, &c.
By'r lakin, I can goe no further, Sir, My old bones akes: here's a maze trod indeede Through fourth-rights, & Meanders: by your patience, I needes must rest me.
Old Lord, I cannot blame thee, Who, am my selfe attach'd with wearinesse To th' dulling of my spirits: Sit downe, and rest: Euen here I will put off my hope, and keepe it No longer for my Flatterer: he is droun'd Whom thus we stray to finde, and the Sea mocks Our frustrate search on land: well, let him goe.
I am right glad, that he's so out of hope: Doe not for one repulse forgoe the purpose That you resolu'd t' effect.
The next aduantage will we take throughly.
Let it be to night, For now they are oppress'd with trauaile, they Will not, nor cannot vse such vigilance As when they are fresh.
Solemne and strange Musicke: and Prosper on the top (inui
-sible:)Enter seuerall strange shapes, bringing in a Banket;
and dance about it with gentle actions of salutations, and inuiting the King, &c. to eate, they depart.
I say to night: no more.
What harmony is this? my good friends, harke.
Maruellous sweet Musicke.
Giue vs kind keepers, heaue[n]s: what were these?
A liuing
Drolerie:
now I will beleeue That there are Vnicornes: that in
Arabia
There is one Tree, the Phoenix throne, one Phoenix At this houre reigning there.
Ile beleeue both: And what do's else want credit, come to me And Ile besworne 'tis true: Trauellers nere did lye, Though fooles at home condemne 'em.
If in
Naples
I should report this now, would they beleeue me? If I should say I saw such Islands; (For certes, these are people of the Island) Who though they are of monstrous shape, yet note Their manners are more gentle, kinde, then of Our humaine generation you shall finde Many, nay almost any.
Honest Lord, Thou hast said well: for some of you there present; Are worse then diuels.
I cannot too much muse Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound expressing (Although they want the vse of tongue) a kinde Of excellent dumbe discourse.
Praise in departing.
They vanish'd strangely.
No matter, since They haue left their Viands behinde; for wee haue sto
macks.
Wilt
please you taste of what is here?
Not I.
Faith Sir, you neede not feare: when wee were
Boyes
Who would beleeue that there were Mountayneeres, Dew-lapt, like Buls, whose throats had hanging at 'em Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men Whose heads stood in their brests? which now we finde Each putter out of fiue for one, will bring vs Good warrant of.
I will stand to, and feede, Although my last, no matter, since I feele The best is past: brother: my Lord, the Duke, Stand
too
, and doe as we.
Thunder and Lightning. Enter Ariell (like a Harpey) claps his wings vpon the Table, and with a quient deuice the Banquet vanishes.
You are three men of sinne, whom destiny That hath to instrument this lower world, And what is in't: the neuer surfeited Sea, Hath caus'd to belch vp you: and on this Island, Where man doth not inhabit, you 'mongst men, Being most vnfit to liue: I haue made you mad; And euen with such like valour, men hang, and drowne Their proper selues: you fooles, I and my fellowes Are ministers of Fate, the Elements Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well Wound the loud windes, or with bemockt-at-Stabs Kill the still closing waters, as diminish One dowle that's in my plumbe: My fellow ministers Are like-invulnerable: if you could hurt, Your swords are now too massie for your strengths, And will not be vplifted: But remember (For that's my businesse to you) that you three From
Millaine
did supplant good
Prospero,
Expos'd vnto the Sea (which hath requit it) Him, and his innocent childe: for which foule deed, The Powres, delaying (not forgetting) haue Incens'd the Seas, and Shores; yea, all the Creatures Against your peace: Thee of thy Sonne,
Alonso
They haue bereft; and doe pronounce by me Lingring perdition (worse then any death Can be at once) shall step, by step attend You, and your wayes, whose wraths to guard you from, Which here, in this most desolate Isle, else fals Vpon your heads, is nothing but hearts-sorrow, And a cleere life ensuing.
He vanishes in Thunder: then (to soft Musicke.) Enter the
shapes againe, and daunce (with mockes and mowes) and carrying out the Table.
Brauely the figure of this
Harpie,
hast thou Perform'd (my
Ariell
) a grace it had deuouring: Of my Instruction, hast thou nothing bated In what thou had'st to say: so with good life, And obseruation strange, my meaner ministers Their seuerall kindes haue done: my high charmes work, And these (mine enemies) are all knit vp In their distractions: they now are in my powre; And in these fits, I leaue them, while I visit Yong
Ferdinand
(whom they suppose is droun'd) And his, and mine lou'd darling.
I'th name of something holy, Sir, why stand you In this strange stare?
O, it is monstrous: monstrous: Me thought the billowes spoke, and told me of it, The windes did sing it to me: and the Thunder (That deepe and dreadfull Organ-Pipe) pronounc'd The name of
Prosper:
it did base my Trespasse, Therefore my Sonne i'th Ooze is bedded; and I'le seeke him deeper then ere plummet sounded, And with him there lye mudded.
Exit.
But one feend at a time, Ile fight their Legions ore.
Ile be thy Second.
Exeunt.
All three of them are desperate: their great guilt (Like poyson giuen to worke a great time after) Now gins to bite the spirits: I doe beseech you (That are of suppler ioynts) follow them swiftly, And hinder them from what this extasie May now prouoke them to.
Follow, I pray you.
Exeunt omnes.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Prospero, Ferdinand, and Miranda.
If I haue too austerely punish'd you, Your compensation makes amends, for I Haue giuen you here, a third of mine owne life, Or that for which I liue: who, once againe I tender to thy hand: All thy vexations Were but my trials of thy loue, and thou Hast strangely stood the test: here, afore heauen I ratifie this my rich guift: O
Ferdinand,
Doe not smile at me, that I boast her of, For thou shalt finde she will out-strip all praise And make it halt, behinde her.
I doe beleeue it Against an Oracle.
Then, as my guest, and thine owne acquisition Worthily purchas'd, take my daughter: But If thou do'st breake her Virgin-knot, before All sanctimonious ceremonies may With full and holy right, be ministred, No sweet aspersion shall the heauens let fall To make this contract grow; but barraine hate, Sower-ey'd disdaine, and discord shall bestrew The vnion of your bed, with weedes so loathly That you shall hate it both: Therefore take heede, As Hymens Lamps shall light you.
As I hope For quiet dayes, faire Issue, and long life, With such loue, as 'tis now the murkiest den, The most opportune place, the strongst suggestion, Our worser
Genius
can, shall neuer melt Mine honor into lust, to take away The edge of that dayes celebration, When I shall thinke, or
Phoebus
Steeds are founderd, Or Night kept chain'd below.
Fairely spoke; Sit then, and talke with her, she is thine owne; What
Ariell;
my industrious serua[n]t
Ariell.
Enter Ariell.
What would my potent master? here I am.
Thou, and thy meaner fellowes, your last seruice Did worthily performe: and I must vse you In such another tricke: goe bring the rabble (Ore whom I giue thee powre) here, to this place: Incite them to quicke motion, for I must Bestow vpon the eyes of this yong couple Some vanity of mine
Art
: it is my promise, And they expect it from me.
Presently?
I
: with a twincke.
Before you can say come, and goe, And breathe twice; and cry, so, so: Each one tripping on his Toe, Will be here with mop, and mowe. Doe you loue me Master? no?
Dearely, my delicate
Ariell:
doe not approach Till thou do'st heare me call.
Well: I conceiue.
Exit.
Looke thou be true: doe not giue dalliance Too much the raigne: the strongest oathes, are straw To th' fire ith' blood: be more abstenious, Or else good night your vow.
I warrant you, Sir, The white cold virgin Snow, vpon my heart Abates the ardour of my Liuer.
Well. Now come my
Ariell,
bring a Corolary, Rather then want a Spirit; appear, & pertly.
Soft musick.
No tongue: all eyes: be silent.
Enter Iris.
Ceres,
most bounteous Lady, thy rich Leas Of Wheate, Rye, Barley, Fetches, Oates and Pease; Thy Turphie-Mountaines, where liue nibling Sheepe, And flat Medes thetchd with Stouer, them to keepe: Thy bankes with pioned, and twilled brims Which spungie
Aprill,
at thy hest betrims; To make cold Nymphes chast crownes; & thy broome-
groues
; Whose shadow the dismissed Batchelor loues, Being lasse-lorne: thy pole-clipt vineyard, And thy Sea-marge stirrile, and rockey-hard, Where thou thy selfe do'st ayre, the Queene o'th Skie, Whose watry Arch, and messenger, am I. Bids thee leaue these, & with her soueraigne grace,
Iuno
descends.
Here on this grasse-plot, in this very place To come, and sport: here Peacocks flye amaine: Approach, rich
Ceres,
her to entertaine.
Enter Ceres.
Haile, many-coloured Messenger, that nere Do'st disobey the wife of
Iupiter:
Who, with thy saffron wings, vpon my flowres Diffusest hony drops, refreshing showres, And with each end of thy blew bowe do'st crowne My boskie acres, and my vnshrubd downe, Rich scarph to my proud earth: why hath thy Queene Summond me hither, to this short gras'd Greene?
A contract of true Loue, to celebrate, And some donation freely to estate On the bles'd Louers.
Tell me heauenly Bowe, If
Venus
or her Sonne, as thou do'st know, Doe now attend the Queene? since they did plot The meanes, that duskie
Dis,
my daughter got, Her, and her blind-Boyes scandald company, I haue forsworne.
Of her societie Be not afraid: I met her deitie Cutting the clouds towards
Paphos:
and her Son Doue-drawn with her: here thought they to haue done Some wanton charme, vpon this Man and Maide, Whose vowes are, that no bed-right shall be paid Till
Hymens
Torch be lighted: but in vaine,
Marses
hot Minion is returnd againe, Her waspish headed sonne, has broke his arrowes, Swears he will shoote no more, but play with Sparrows, And be a Boy right out.
Highest Queene of State, Great
Iuno
comes, I know her by her gate
How do's my bounteous sister? goe with me To blesse this twaine, that they may prosperous be, And honourd in their Issue.
They sing.
Honor, riches, marriage, blessing, Long continuance, and encreasing, Hourely ioyes, be still vpon you,
Iuno sings her blessings on you. Earths increase, foyzon plentie, Barnes, and Garners, neuer empty. Vines, with clustring bunches growing, Plants, with goodly burthen bowing: Spring come to you at the farthest, In the very end of Haruest. Scarcity and want shall shun you,
Ceres
blessing so is on you.
This is a most maiesticke vision, and Harmonious charmingly: may I be bold To thinke these spirits?
Spirits, which by mine
Art
I haue from their confines call'd to enact My present fancies.
Let me liue here euer, So rare a wondred Father, and a wise Makes this place Paradise.
Sweet now, silence:
Iuno
and
Ceres
whisper seriously, There's something else to doe: hush, and be mute Or else our spell is mar'd.
Iuno
and
Ceres
whisper, and send
Iris
on employment.
You Nimphs cald
Nayades
of
windring brooks, With your sedg'd crownes, and euer-harmelesse lookes, Leaue your crispe channels, and on this green-Land Answere your summons,
Iuno
do's command. Come temperate
Nimphes,
and helpe to celebrate A Contract of true Loue: be not too late.
Enter Certaine Nimphes.
You Sun-burn'd Sicklemen of August weary, Come hether from the furrow, and be merry, Make holly day: your Rye-straw hats put on, And these fresh Nimphes encounter euery one In Country footing.
Enter certaine Reapers (properly habited:) they ioyne with
the Nimphes, in a gracefull dance, towards the end where- of
, Prospero
starts sodainly and speakes, after which to a strange hollow and confused noyse, they heauily vanish.
I had forgot that foule conspiracy Of the beast
Calliban,
and his confederates Against my life: the minute of their plot Is almost come: Well done, auoid: no more.
This is strange: your fathers in some passion That workes him strongly.
Neuer till this day Saw I him touch'd with anger, so distemper'd.
You doe looke (my son) in a mou'd sort, As if you were dismaid: be cheerefull Sir, Our Reuels now are ended: These our actors, (As I foretold you) were all Spirits, and Are melted into Ayre, into thin Ayre, And like the baselesse fabricke of this vision The Clowd-capt Towres, the gorgeous Pallaces, The solemne Temples, the great Globe it selfe, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolue, And like this insubstantiall Pageant faded Leaue not a racke behinde: we are such stuffe As dreames are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleepe: Sir, I am vext, Beare with my weakenesse, my old braine is troubled: Be not disturb'd with my infirmitie, If you be pleas'd, retire into my Cell, And there repose, a turne or two, Ile walke To still my beating minde.
We wish your peace.
Exit.
Come with a thought; I thank thee
Ariell:
come.
Enter Ariell.
Thy thoughts I cleaue to, what's thy pleasure?
Spirit: We must prepare to meet with
Caliban.
I
my Commander, when I presented
Ceres
I thought to haue told thee of it, but I fear'd Least I might anger thee.
Say again, where didst thou leaue these varlots?
I told you Sir, they were red-hot with drinking, So full of valour, that they smote the ayre For breathing in their faces: beate the ground For kissing of their feete; yet alwaies bending Towards their proiect: then I beate my Tabor, At which like vnback't colts they prickt their eares, Aduanc'd their eye-lids, lifted vp their noses As they smelt musicke, so I charm'd their eares That Calfe-like, they my lowing follow'd, through Tooth'd briars, sharpe firzes, pricking gosse, & thorns, Which entred their fraile shins: at last I left them I'th' filthy mantled poole beyond your Cell, There dancing vp to th' chins, that the fowle Lake Ore-stunck their feet.
This was well done (my bird) Thy shape inuisible retaine thou still: The trumpery in my house, goe bring it hither For stale to catch these theeues.
I go, I goe.
Exit.
A Deuill, a borne-Deuill, on whose nature Nurture can neuer sticke: on whom my paines Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost, And, as with age, his body ouglier growes, So his minde cankers: I will plague them all, Euen to roaring: Come, hang on them this line.
Enter
Ariell,
loaden with glistering apparell, &c. Enter
Caliban, Stephano,
and
Trinculo,
all wet.
Pray you tread softly, that the blinde Mole may not heare a foot fall: we now are neere his Cell.
Monster, your Fairy,
you say is a harmles Fairy, Has done little better then plaid the Iacke with vs.
Monster, I do smell all horse-pisse, at which My nose is in great indignation.
So is mine. Do you heare Monster: If I should Take a displeasure against you: Looke you.
Thou wert but a lost Monster.
Good my Lord, giue me thy fauour stil, Be patient, for the prize Ile bring thee
too
Shall hudwinke this mischance: therefore speake softly, All's husht as midnight yet.
I
, but to loose our bottles in the Poole.
There is not onely disgrace and dishonor in that Monster, but an infinite losse.
That's more to me then my wetting: Yet this is your harmlesse Fairy, Monster.
I will fetch off my bottle, Though I be o're eares for my labour.
Pre-thee (my King) be quiet. Seest thou heere This is the mouth o'th Cell: no noise, and enter: Do that good mischeefe, which may make this Island Thine owne for euer, and I thy
Caliban
For aye thy foot-licker.
Giue me thy hand, I do begin to haue bloody thoughts.
O King
Stephano,
O Peere: O worthy
Stephano,
Looke what a wardrobe heere is for thee.
Let it alone thou foole, it is but trash.
Oh, ho, Monster: wee know what belongs to a frippery, O King
Stephano.
Put off that gowne (
Trinculo
) by this hand Ile haue that gowne.
Thy grace shall haue it.
The dropsie drowne this foole, what doe you
meane
To doate thus on such luggage? let's alone And doe the murther first: if he awake, From toe to crowne hee'l fill our skins with pinches, Make vs strange stuffe.
Be you quiet (Monster) Mistris line, is not this my Ierkin? how is the Ierkin vnder the line: now Ier- kin you are like to lose your haire, & proue a bald Ierkin.
Doe, doe; we steale by lyne and leuell, and't like your grace.
I thank thee for that iest; heer's a garment for't: Wit shall not goe vn-rewarded while I am King of this Country: Steale by line and leuell, is an excellent passe of pate: there's another garment for't.
Monster, come put some Lime vpon your fin- gers, and away with the rest.
I will haue none on't: we shall loose our time, And all be turn'd to Barnacles, or to Apes With foreheads villanous low.
Monster, lay to your fingers: helpe to beare this away, where my hogshead of wine is, or Ile turne you out of my kingdome: goe to, carry this.
And this.
I
, and this.
A noyse of Hunters heard. Enter diuers Spirits in shape
of Dogs and Hounds, hunting them about: Prospero and Ariel setting them on.
Hey
Mountaine,
hey.
Siluer:
there it goes,
Siluer.
Fury, Fury: there Tyrant, there: harke, harke. Goe, charge my Goblins that they grinde their ioynts With dry Convultions, shorten vp their sinewes With aged Cramps, & more pinch-spotted make them, Then Pard, or Cat o' Mountaine.
Harke, they rore.
Let them be hunted soundly: At this houre Lies at my mercy all mine enemies: Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou Shalt haue the ayre at freedome: for a little Follow, and doe me seruice.
Exeunt.
Actus quintus: Scoena Prima.
Enter
Prospero
(in his Magicke robes) and
Ariel.
Now do's my Proiect gather to a head: My charmes cracke not: my Spirits obey, and Time Goes vpright with his carriage: how's the day?
On the sixt hower, at which time, my Lord You said our worke should cease.
I did say so, When first I rais'd the Tempest: say my Spirit, How fares the King, and's followers?
Confin'd together In the same fashion, as you gaue in charge, Iust as you left them; all prisoners Sir In the
Line-groue
which weather-fends your Cell, They cannot boudge till your release: The King, His Brother, and yours, abide all three distracted, And the remainder mourning ouer them, Brim full of sorrow, and dismay: but chiefly Him that you term'd Sir, the good old Lord
Gonzallo,
His teares runs downe his beard like winters drops From eaues of reeds: your charm so strongly works 'em That if you now beheld them, your affections Would become tender.
Dost thou thinke so, Spirit?
Mine would, Sir, were I humane.
And mine shall. Hast thou (which art but aire) a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions, and shall not my selfe, One of their kinde, that rellish all as sharpely, Passion as they, be kindlier mou'd then thou art? Thogh with their high wrongs I am strook to th' quick, Yet, with my nobler reason, gainst my furie Doe I take part: the rarer Action is In vertue, then in vengeance: they, being penitent, The sole drift of my purpose doth extend Not a frowne further: Goe, release them
Ariell,
My Charmes Ile breake, their sences Ile restore, And they shall be themselues.
Ile fetch them, Sir.
Exit.
Ye Elues of hils, brooks, sta[n]ding lakes & groues, And ye, that on the sands with printlesse foote Doe chase the ebbing-
Neptune
,
and doe flie him When he comes backe: you demy-Puppets, that By Moone-shine doe the greene sowre Ringlets make, Whereof the Ewe not bites: and you, whose pastime Is to make midnight-Mushrumps, that reioyce To heare the solemne Curfewe, by whose ayde (Weake Masters though ye be) I haue bedymn'd The Noone-tide Sun, call'd forth the mutenous windes, And twixt the greene Sea, and the azur'd vault Set roaring warre: To the dread ratling Thunder Haue I giuen fire, and rifted
Ioues
stowt Oke With his owne Bolt: The strong bass'd promontorie Haue I made shake, and by the spurs pluckt vp The Pyne, and Cedar. Graues at my command Haue wak'd their sleepers, op'd, and let 'em forth By my so potent
Art
. But this rough Magicke I heere abiure: and when I haue requir'd Some heauenly Musicke (which euen now I do) To worke mine end vpon their Sences, that This Ayrie-charme is for, I'le breake my staffe, Bury it certaine fadomes in the earth, And deeper then did euer Plummet sound Ile drowne my booke.
Solemne musicke.
Heere enters
Ariel
before: Then
Alonso
with a franticke ge-sture,
attended by
Gonzalo. Sebastian
and
Anthonio
in
like manner attended by
Adrian
and
Francisco:
They all
enter the circle which
Prospero
had made, and there stand charm'd: which
Prospero
obseruing, speakes.
A solemne Ayre, and the best comforter, To an vnsetled fancie, Cure thy braines (Now vselesse) boile within thy skull: there stand For you are Spell-stopt. Holy
Gonzallo,
Honourable man, Mine eyes ev'n sociable to the shew of thine Fall fellowly drops: The charme dissolues apace, And as the morning steales vpon the night (Melting the darkenesse) so their rising sences Begin to chace the ignorant fumes that mantle Their cleerer reason. O good
Gonzallo
My true preseruer, and a loyall
Sir
, To him thou follow'st; I will pay thy graces Home both in word, and deede: Most cruelly Did thou
Alonso,
vse me, and my daughter: Thy brother was a furtherer in the Act, Thou art pinch'd for't now
Sebastian.
Flesh, and bloud, You, brother mine, that entertaine ambition, Expelld remorse, and nature, whom, with
Sebastian
(Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong) Would heere haue kill'd your King: I do forgiue thee, Vnnaturall though thou art: Their vnderstanding Begins to swell, and the approching tide Will shortly fill the reasonable shore That now ly foule, and muddy: not one of them That yet lookes on me, or would know me:
Ariell,
Fetch me the Hat, and Rapier in my Cell, I will discase me, and my selfe present As I was sometime
Millaine:
quickly Spirit, Thou shalt ere long be free.
Ariell sings, and helps to attire him.
Where the
Bee
sucks, there suck I, In a Cowslips bell, I lie, There I cowch when Owles doe crie, On the Batts backe I doe flie after Sommer merrily. Merrily, merrily, shall I liue now, Vnder the blossom that hangs on the Bow.
Why that's my dainty
Ariell:
I shall misse Thee, but yet thou shalt haue freedome: so, so, so, To the Kings ship, inuisible as thou art, There shalt thou finde the Marriners asleepe Vnder the Hatches: the Master and the Boat-swaine Being awake, enforce them to this place; And presently, I pre'thee.
I drinke the aire before me, and returne Or ere your pulse twice beate.
Exit.
All torment, trouble, wonder, and amazement Inhabits heere: some heauenly power guide vs Out of this fearefull Country.
Behold Sir King The wronged Duke of
Millaine, Prospero:
For more assurance that a liuing Prince Do's now speake to thee, I embrace thy body, And to thee, and thy Company, I bid A hearty welcome.
Where thou bee'st he or no, Or some inchanted triflle to abuse me, (As late I haue beene) I not know: thy Pulse Beats as of flesh, and blood: and since I saw thee, Th' affliction of my minde amends, with which I feare a madnesse held me: this must craue (
And
if this be at all) a most strange story. Thy Dukedome I resigne, and doe entreat Thou pardon me my wrongs: But how shold
Prospero
Be liuing, and be heere?
First, noble Frend, Let me embrace thine age, whose honor cannot Be measur'd, or confin'd.
Whether this be, Or be not, I'le not sweare.
You doe yet taste Some subtleties o'th' Isle, that will nor let you Beleeue things certaine: Wellcome, my friends all, But you, my brace of Lords, were I so minded I heere could plucke his Highnesse frowne vpon you And iustifie you Traitors: at this time I will tell no tales.
The Diuell speakes in him:
No: For you (most wicked Sir) whom to call brother Would euen infect my mouth, I do forgiue Thy rankest fault; all of them: and require My Dukedome of thee, which, perforce I know Thou must restore.
If thou beest
Prospero
Giue vs particulars of thy preseruation, How thou hast met vs heere, whom three howres since Were wrackt vpon this shore? where I haue lost (How sharp the point of this remembrance is) My deere sonne
Ferdinand.
I am woe for't, Sir.
Irreparable is the losse, and patience Saies, it is past her cure.
I rather thinke You haue not sought her helpe, of whose soft grace For the like losse, I haue her soueraigne aid, And rest my selfe content.
You the like losse?
As great to me, as late, and supportable To make the deere losse, haue I meanes much weaker Then you may call to comfort you; for I Haue lost my daughter.
A daughter? Oh heauens, that they were liuing both in
Naples
The King and Queene there, that they were, I wish My selfe were mudded in that oo-zie bed Where my sonne lies: when did you lose your daughter?
In this last Tempest. I perceiue these Lords At this encounter doe so much admire, That they deuoure their reason, and scarce thinke Their eies doe offices of Truth: Their words Are naturall breath: but howsoeu'r you haue Beene iustled from your sences, know for certain That I am
Prospero,
and that very Duke Which was thrust forth of
Millaine,
who most strangely Vpon this shore (where you were wrackt) was landed To be the Lord on't: No more yet of this, For 'tis a Chronicle of day by day, Not a relation for a break-fast, nor Befitting this first meeting: Welcome, Sir; This Cell's my Court: heere haue I few attendants, And Subiects none abroad: pray you looke in: My Dukedome since you haue giuen me againe, I will requite you with as good a thing, At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye As much, as me my Dukedome.
Here Prospero discouers Ferdinand and Miranda, play- ing at Chesse.
Sweet Lord, you play me false.
No my dearest loue, I would not for the world.
Yes, for a score of Kingdomes, you should
wrangle
, And I would call it faire play.
If this proue A vision of the Island, one deere Sonne Shall I twice loose.
A most high miracle.
Though the Seas threaten they are mercifull, I haue curs'd them without cause.
Now all the blessings Of a glad father, compasse thee about: Arise, and say how thou cam'st heere.
O wonder! How many goodly creatures are there heere? How beauteous mankinde is? O braue new world
That has such people in't.
'Tis new to thee.
What is this Maid, with whom thou was't at
play
? Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three houres: Is she the goddesse that hath seuer'd vs, And brought vs thus together?
Sir, she is mortall; But by immortall prouidence, she's mine; I chose her when I could not aske my Father For his aduise: nor thought I had one: She Is daughter to this famous Duke of
Millaine,
Of whom, so often I haue heard renowne, But neuer saw before: of whom I haue Receiu'd a second life; and second Father This Lady makes him to me.
I am hers. But O, how odly will it sound, that I Must aske my childe forgiuenesse?
There Sir stop, Let vs not burthen our remembrances, with A heauinesse that's gon.
I haue inly wept, Or should haue spoke ere this: looke downe you gods And on this couple drop a blessed crowne; For it is you, that haue chalk'd forth the way Which brought vs hither.
I say Amen,
Gonzallo.
Was
Millaine
thrust from
Millaine,
that his Issue Should become Kings of
Naples
? O reioyce Beyond a common ioy, and set it downe With gold on lasting Pillers: In one voyage Did
Claribell
her husband finde at
Tunis,
And
Ferdinand
her brother, found a wife, Where he himselfe was lost:
Prospero,
his Dukedome In a poore Isle: and all of vs, our selues, When no man was his owne.
Giue me your hands: Let griefe and sorrow still embrace his heart, That doth not wish you ioy.
Be it so, Amen.
Enter Ariell, with the Master and Boatswaine amazedly following.
O looke Sir, looke Sir, here is more of vs: I prophesi'd, if a Gallowes were on Land This fellow could not drowne: Now blasphemy, That swear'st Grace ore-boord, not an oath on shore, Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the newes?
The best newes is, that we haue safely found Our King, and company: The next: our Ship, Which but three glasses since, we gaue out split, Is tyte, and
yare
, and brauely rig'd, as when We first put out to Sea.
Sir, all this seruice Haue I done since I went.
My tricksey Spirit.
These are not naturall euents, they strengthen From strange, to stranger: say, how came you hither?
If I did thinke, Sir, I were well awake, I'ld striue to tell you: we were dead of sleepe, And (how we know not) all clapt vnder hatches, Where, but euen now, with strange, and seuerall noyses Of roring, shreeking, howling, gingling chaines, And mo diuersitie of sounds, all horrible. We were awak'd: straight way, at liberty; Where we, in all our trim, freshly beheld Our royall, good, and gallant Ship: our Master Capring to eye her: on a trice, so please you, Euen in a dreame, were we diuided from them, And were brought moaping hither.
Was
't well done?
Brauely (my diligence) thou shalt be free.
This is as strange a Maze, as ere men trod, And there is in this businesse, more then nature Was euer conduct of: some Oracle Must rectifie our knowledge.
Sir, my Leige, Doe not infest your minde, with beating on The strangenesse of this businesse, at pickt leisure (Which shall be shortly single) I'le resolue you, (Which to you shall seeme probable) of euery These happend accidents: till when, be cheerefull And thinke of each thing well: Come hither Spirit, Set
Caliban,
and his companions free: Vntye the Spell: How fares my gracious Sir? There are yet missing of your Companie Some few odde Lads, that you remember not.
Enter Ariell, driuing in Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo in their stolne Apparell.
Euery man shift for all the rest, and let No man take care for himselfe; for all is But fortune:
Coragio
Bully-Monster
Coragio.
If these be true spies which I weare in my head, here's a goodly sight.
O
Setebos,
these be braue Spirits indeede: How fine my Master is? I am afraid He will chastise me.
Ha, ha: What things are these, my Lord
Anthonio
? Will money buy em?
Very like: one of them Is a plaine Fish, and no doubt marketable.
Marke but the badges of these men, my Lords, Then say if they be true: This mishapen knaue; His Mother was a Witch, and one so strong That could controle the Moone; make flowes, and ebs, And deale in her command, without her power: These three haue robd me, and this demy-diuell; (For he's a bastard one) had plotted with them To take my life: two of these Fellowes, you Must know, and owne, this Thing of darkenesse, I Acknowledge mine.
I shall be pincht to death.
Is not this
Stephano,
my drunken Butler?
He is drunke now; Where had he wine?
And
Trinculo
is reeling ripe: where should they Finde this grand Liquor that hath gilded 'em? How cam'st thou in this pickle?
I haue bin in such a pickle since I saw you last, That I feare me will neuer out of my bones: I shall not feare fly-blowing.
Why how now
Stephano
?
O touch me not, I am not
Stephano,
but a Cramp.
You'ld be King o'the Isle, Sirha?
I should haue bin a sore one then.
This is a strange thing as ere I look'd on.
He is as disproportion'd in his Manners As in his shape: Goe Sirha, to my Cell, Take with you your Companions: as you looke To haue my pardon, trim it handsomely.
I
that I will: and Ile be wise hereafter,
And seeke for grace: what a thrice double Asse Was I to take this drunkard for a god? And worship this dull foole?
Goe to, away.
Hence, and bestow your luggage where you
found it.
Or stole it rather.
Sir, I inuite your Highnesse, and your traine To my poore Cell: where you shall take your rest For this one night, which part of it, Ile waste With such discourse, as I not doubt, shall make it Goe quicke away: The story of my life, And the particular accidents, gon by Since I came to this Isle: And in the morne I'le bring you to your ship, and so to
Naples,
Where I haue hope to see the nuptiall Of these our deere-belou'd, solemnized, And thence retire me to my
Millaine,
where Euery third thought shall be my graue.
I long To heare the story of your life; which must Take the eare strangely.
I'le deliuer all, And promise you calme Seas, auspicious gales, And saile, so expeditious, that shall catch Your Royall fleete farre off: My
Ariel;
chicke That is thy charge: Then to the Elements Be free, and fare thou well: please you draw neere.
Exeunt omnes.
EPILOGVE, spoken by
Prospero.
Now my Charmes are all ore-throwne, And what strength I haue's mine owne. Which is most faint: now 'tis true I must be heere confinde by you, Or sent to
Naples,
Let me not Since I haue my Dukedome got, And pardon'd the deceiuer, dwell In this bare Island, by your Spell, But release me from my bands With the helpe of your good hands: Gentle breath of yours, my Sailes Must fill, or else my proiect failes, Which was to please: Now I want Spirits to enforce:
Art
to inchant, And my ending is despaire, Vnlesse I be relieu'd by praier Which pierces so, that it assaults Mercy it selfe, and frees all faults. As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your Indulgence set me free.
Exit.
Paris,
and true
Romeo
dead. Shee wakes, and I intreated her come foorth, And beare this worke of Heauen, with patience: But then, a noyse did scarre me from the Tombe, And she (too desperate) would not go with me, But (as it seemes) did violence on her selfe. All this I know, and to the Marriage her Nurse is priuy: And if ought in this miscarried by my fault, Let my old life be sacrific'd, some houre before the time, Vnto the rigour of seuerest Law.
We still haue knowne thee for a Holy man. Where's
Romeo's
man? What can he say to this?
I brought my Master newes of
Iuliets
death, And then in poste he came from
Mantua
To this same place, to this same Monument. This Letter he early bid me giue his Father, And threatned me with death, going in the Vault, If I departed not, and left him there.
Giue me the Letter, I will look on it. Where is the Counties Page that rais'd the Watch? Sirra, what made your Master in this place?
He came with flowres to strew his Ladies graue, And bid me stand aloofe, and so I did: Anon comes one with light to ope the Tombe, And
by
and by my Maister drew on him, And then I ran away to call the Watch.
This Letter doth make good the Friers words, Their course of Loue, the tydings of her death: And heere he writes, that he did buy a poyson Of a poore Pothecarie, and therewithall Came to this Vault to dye, and lye with
Iuliet.
Where be these Enemies?
Capulet, Mountague,
See what a scourge is laide vpon your hate, That Heauen finds meanes to kill your ioyes with Loue; And I, for winking at your discords too, Haue lost a brace of Kinsmen: All are punish'd.
O Brother
Mountague,
giue me thy hand, This is my Daughters ioynture, for no more Can I demand.
But I can giue thee more: For I will raise her Statue in pure Gold, That whiles
Verona
by that name is knowne, There shall no figure at that Rate be set, As that of True and Faithfull
Iuliet.
As rich shall
Romeo
by his Lady ly, Poore sacrifices of our enmity.
A glooming peace this morning with it brings, The Sunne for sorrow will not shew his head; Go hence, to haue more talke of these sad things, Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished. For neuer was a Storie of more Wo, Then this of
Iuliet,
and her
Romeo.
Exeunt omnes
Twelfe Night, Or what you will.
Actus Primus, Scaena Prima.
Enter Orsino Duke of Illyria, Curio, and other Lords.
If Musicke be the food of Loue, play on, Giue me excesse of it: that surfetting, The appetite may sicken, and so dye. That straine agen, it had a dying fall: O, it came ore my eare, like the sweet sound That breathes vpon a banke of Violets; Stealing, and giuing Odour. Enough, no more, 'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before. O spirit of Loue, how quicke and fresh art thou, That notwithstanding thy capacitie, Receiueth as the Sea. Nought enters there, Of what validity, and pitch so ere, But falles into abatement, and low price Euen in a minute; so full of shapes is fancie, That it alone, is high fantasticall.
Will you go hunt my Lord?
What
Curio
?
The Hart.
Why so I do, the Noblest that I haue: O when mine eyes did see
Oliuia
first, Me thought she purg'd the ayre of pestilence; That instant was I turn'd into a Hart, And my desires like fell and cruell hounds, Ere since pursue me. How now what newes from her?
Enter Valentine.
So please my Lord, I might not be admitted, But from her handmaid do returne this answer: The Element it selfe, till seuen yeares heate, Shall not behold her face at ample view: But like a Cloystresse she will vailed walke, And water once a day her Chamber round With eye-offending brine: all this to season A brothers dead loue, which she would keepe fresh And lasting, in her sad remembrance.
O she that hath a heart of that fine frame To pay this debt of loue but to a brother, How will she loue, when the rich golden shaft Hath kill'd the flocke of all affections else That liue in her. When Liuer, Braine, and Heart, These soueraigne thrones, are all supply'd and fill'd Her sweete perfections with one selfe king: Away before me, to sweet beds of Flowres, Loue-thoughts lye rich, when canopy'd with bowres.
Exeunt
Scena Secunda.
Enter Viola, a Captaine, and Saylors.
What Country (Friends) is this?
This is Illyria Ladie.
And what should I do in Illyria? My brother he is in Elizium, Perchance he is not drown'd: What thinke you saylors?
It is perchance that you your selfe were saued.
O my poore brother, and so perchance may he be.
True Madam, and to comfort you with chance, Assure your selfe, after our ship did split, When you, and those poore number saued with you, Hung on our driuing boate: I saw your brother Most prouident in perill, binde himselfe, (Courage and hope both teaching him the practise) To a strong Maste, that liu'd vpon the sea: Where like
Orion
on the Dolphines backe, I saw him hold acquaintance with the waues, So long as I could see.
For saying so, there's Gold: Mine owne escape vnfoldeth to my hope, Whereto thy speech serues for authoritie The like of him. Know'st thou this Countrey?
I
Madam well, for I was bred and borne Not three houres trauaile from this very place.
Who gouernes heere?
A noble Duke in nature, as in name.
What is his name?
Orsino.
Orsino:
I haue heard my father name him. He was a Batchellor then.
And so is now, or was so very late: For but a month ago I went from hence, And then 'twas fresh in murmure (as you know What great ones do, the lesse will prattle of,) That he did seeke the loue of faire
Oliuia.
What's shee?
A vertuous maid, the daughter of a Count That dide some tweluemonth since, then leauing her In the protection of his sonne, her brother, Who shortly also dide: for whose deere loue (They say) she hath abiur'd the sight And company of men.
O that I seru'd that Lady, And might not be deliuered to the world Till I had made mine owne occasion mellow What my estate is.
That were hard to compasse, Because she will admit no kinde of suite, No, not the Dukes.
There is a faire behauiour in thee Captaine, And though that nature, with a beauteous wall Doth oft close in pollution: yet of thee I will beleeue thou hast a minde that suites With this thy faire and outward charracter. I prethee (and Ile pay thee bounteously) Conceale me what I am, and be my ayde, For such disguise as haply shall become The forme of my intent. Ile serue this Duke, Thou shalt present me as an Eunuch to him, It may be worth thy paines: for I can sing, And speake to him in many sorts of Musicke, That will allow me very worth his seruice. What else may hap, to time I will commit, Onely shape thou thy silence to my wit.
Be you his Eunuch, and your Mute Ile bee, When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.
I thanke thee: Lead me on.
Exeunt
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Sir Toby, and Maria.
What a plague meanes my Neece to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemie to life.
By my troth sir
Toby,
you must come in earlyer
a
nights: your Cosin, my Lady, takes great exceptions to your
ill
houres.
Why let her except, before excepted.
I
, but you must confine your selfe within the modest limits of order.
Confine? Ile confine my selfe no finer then I am: these cloathes are good enough to drinke in, and so bee these boots too:
and
they be not, let them hang them- selues in their owne straps.
That quaffing and drinking will vndoe you: I heard my Lady talke of it yesterday: and of a foolish knight that you brought in one night here, to be hir woer
Who, Sir
Andrew Ague-cheeke
?
I
he.
He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
What's that to th' purpose?
Why he ha's three thousand ducates a yeare.
I
, but hee'l haue but a yeare in all these ducates: He's a very foole, and a prodigall.
Fie, that you'l say so: he playes o'th Viol-de-gam-boys, and speaks three or four languages word for word without booke, & hath all the good gifts of nature.
He hath indeed, almost naturall: for besides that he's a foole, he's a great quarreller: and but that hee hath the gift of a Coward, to allay the gust he hath in quarrel- ling, 'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickely haue the gift of a graue.
By this hand they are scoundrels and substra- ctors that say so of him. Who are they?
They that adde moreour, hee's drunke nightly in your company.
With drinking healths to my Neece: Ile drinke to her as long as there is a passage in my throat, & drinke in Illyria: he's a Coward and a Coystrill that will not drinke to my Neece, till his braines turne o'th toe, like a parish top. What wench?
Castiliano vulgo:
for here coms Sir
Andrew Agueface.
Enter Sir Andrew.
Sir
Toby Belch.
How now sir
Toby Belch
?
Sweet sir
Andrew.
Blesse you faire Shrew.
And you too sir.
Accost Sir
Andrew,
accost.
What's that?
My Neeces Chamber-maid.
Good Mistris accost, I desire better acquaintance
My name is
Mary
sir.
Good mistris
Mary,
accost.
You mistake knight: Accost, is front her, boord her, woe her, assayle her.
By my troth I would not vndertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of Accost?
Far you well Gentlemen.
And
thou let part so Sir
Andrew,
would thou mightst neuer draw sword agen.
And
you part so mistris, I would I might neuer draw sword agen: Faire Lady, doe you thinke you haue fooles in hand?
Sir, I haue not you by'th hand.
Marry but you shall haue, and heeres my hand.
Now sir, thought is free: I pray you bring your hand to'th Buttry barre, and let it drinke.
Wherefore (sweet-heart?) What's your Meta- phor?
It's dry sir.
Why I thinke so: I am not such an asse, but I can keepe my hand dry. But what's your iest?
A dry iest Sir.
Are you full of them?
I
Sir, I haue them at my fingers ends: marry now I let go your hand, I am barren.
Exit Maria
O knight, thou lack'st a cup of Canarie: when did I see thee so put downe?
Neuer in your life I thinke, vnlesse you see Ca- narie put me downe: mee thinkes sometimes I haue no more wit then a Christian, or an ordinary man ha's: but I am a great eater of beefe, and I beleeue that does harme to my wit.
No question.
And
I thought that, I'de forsweare it. Ile ride home to morrow sir
Toby.
Pur-quoy
my deere knight?
What is
purquoy
? Do, or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues, that I haue in fencing dancing, and beare-bayting: O had I but followed the Arts.
Then hadst thou had an excellent head of haire.
Why, would that haue mended my haire?
Past question, for thou seest it will not coole my
nature
But it becoms me wel enough,
dost
not?
Excellent, it hangs like flax on a distaffe: & I hope to see a huswife take thee between her legs, & spin it off.
Faith Ile home to morrow sir
Toby,
your niece wil not be seene, or if she be it's four to one, she'l none of me: the Count himselfe here hard by, wooes her.
Shee'l none o'th Count, she'l not match aboue hir degree, neither in estate, yeares, nor wit: I haue heard her swear't. Tut there's life in't man.
Ile stay a moneth longer. I am a fellow o'th strangest minde i'th world: I delight in Maskes and Re- uels sometimes altogether.
Art thou good at these kicke-chawses Knight?
As any man in Illyria, whatsoeuer he be, vnder the degree of my betters, & yet I will not compare with an old man.
What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?
Faith, I can cut a caper.
And I can cut the Mutton too't.
And I thinke I haue the backe-tricke, simply as strong as any man in Illyria.
Wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore haue these gifts a Curtaine before 'em? Are they like to take dust, like mistris
Mals
picture? Why dost thou not goe to Church in a Galliard, and come home in a Carranto? My verie walke should be a Iigge: I would not so much as make water but in a Sinke-a-pace: What dooest thou meane? Is it a world to hide vertues in? I did thinke by the excellent constitution of thy legge, it was form'd vn- der the starre of a Galliard.
I
, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a dam'd colour'd stocke. Shall we sit about some Reuels?
What shall we do else: were we not borne vnder Taurus?
Taurus? That sides and heart.
No sir, it is leggs and thighes: let me see thee ca- per. Ha, higher: ha, ha, excellent.
Exeunt
Scena Quarta.
Enter Valentine, and Viola in mans attire.
If the Duke continue these fauours towards you
Cesario,
you are like to be much aduanc'd, he hath known you but three dayes, and already you are no stranger.
You either feare his humour, or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his loue. Is he inconstant sir, in his fauours.
No beleeue me.
Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants.
I thanke you: heere comes the Count.
Who saw
Cesario
hoa?
On your attendance my Lord heere.
Stand you a-while aloofe.
Cesario,
Thou knowst no lesse, but all: I haue vnclasp'd To thee the booke euen of my secret soule. Therefore good youth, addresse thy gate vnto her, Be not deni'de accesse, stand at her doores, And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow Till thou haue audience.
Sure my Noble Lord, If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow As it is spoke, she neuer will admit me.
Be clamorous, and leape all ciuill bounds, Rather then make vnprofited returne,
Say I do speake with her (my Lord) what then?
O then, vnfold the passion of my loue, Surprize her with discourse of my deere faith; It shall become thee well to act my woes: She will attend it better in thy youth, Then in a Nuntio's of more graue aspect.
I thinke not so, my Lord.
Deere Lad, beleeue it; For they shall yet belye thy happy yeeres, That say thou art a man:
Dianas
lip Is not more smooth, and rubious: thy small pipe Is as the maidens organ, shrill, and sound, And all is semblatiue a womans part. I know thy constellation is right apt For this affayre: some foure or fiue attend him, All if you will: for I my selfe am best When least in companie: prosper well in this, And thou shalt liue as freely as thy Lord, To call his fortunes thine.
Ile do my best To woe your Lady: yet a barrefull strife, Who ere I woe, my selfe would be his wife.
Exeunt.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Maria, and Clowne.
Nay, either tell me where thou hast bin, or I will not open my lippes so wide as a brissle may enter, in way of thy excuse: my Lady will hang thee for thy absence.
Let her hang me: hee that is well hang'de in this world, needs to feare no colours.
Make that good.
He shall see none to feare.
A good lenton answer: I can tell thee where y saying was borne, of I feare no colours.
Where good mistris
Mary
?
In the warrs, & that may you be bolde to say in your foolerie.
Well, God giue them wisedome that haue it: & those that are fooles, let them vse their talents.
Yet you will be hang'd for being so long absent, or to be turn'd away: is not that as good as a hanging to you?
Many a good hanging, preuents a bad marriage: and for turning away, let summer beare it out.
You are resolute then?
Not so neyther, but I am resolu'd on two points
That if one breake, the other will hold: or if both breake, your gaskins fall.
Apt in good faith, very apt: well go thy way, if sir
Toby
would leaue drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of
Eues
flesh, as any in Illyria.
Peace you rogue, no more o'that: here comes my Lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.
Enter Lady Oliuia, with Maluolio.
Wit, and't be thy
will
, put me into good fooling: those wits that thinke they haue thee, doe very oft proue fooles: and I that am sure I lacke thee, may passe for a wise man. For what saies
Quinapalus,
Better a witty foole, then a foolish wit. God blesse thee Lady.
Take the foole away.
Do you not heare fellowes, take away the Ladie.
Go
too
, y'are a dry foole: Ile no more of you: be- sides you grow dis-honest.
Two faults Madona, that drinke & good counsell wil amend: for giue the dry foole drink, then is the foole not dry: bid the dishonest man mend himself, if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if hee cannot, let the Botcher mend him: any thing that's mended, is but patch'd: vertu that transgresses, is but patcht with sinne, and sin that a- mends, is but patcht with vertue. If that this simple Sillogisme will serue, so: if it will not, what remedy? As there is no true Cuckold but calamity, so beauties a flower; The Lady bad take away the foole, therefore I say againe, take her away.
Sir, I bad them take away you.
Misprision in the highest degree. Lady,
Cucullus
non facit monachum:
that's as much to say, as I weare not motley in my braine: good
Madona,
giue mee leaue to proue you a foole.
Can you do it?
Dexteriously, good Madona.
Make your proofe.
I must catechize you for it Madona, Good my Mouse of vertue answer mee.
Well sir, for want of other idlenesse, Ile bide your proofe.
Good Madona, why mournst thou?
Good foole, for my brothers death.
I thinke his soule is in
hell
, Madona.
I know his soule is in heauen, foole.
The more foole (Madona) to mourne for your Brothers soule, being in heauen. Take away the Foole, Gentlemen.
What thinke you of this foole
Maluolio,
doth he not mend?
Yes, and shall do, till the pangs of death shake him: Infirmity that decaies the wise, doth euer make the better foole.
God send you sir, a speedie Infirmity, for the better increasing your folly: Sir
Toby
will be sworn that I am no Fox, but he wil not passe his word for two pence that you are no Foole.
How say you to that
Maluolio
?
I maruell your Ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascall: I saw him put down the other day, with an ordinary foole, that has no more braine then a stone. Looke you now, he's out of his gard already: vnles you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gag'd. I protest I take these Wisemen, that crow so at these set kinde of fooles, no better then the fooles Zanies.
O you are sicke of selfe-loue
Maluolio,
and taste with a distemper'd appetite. To be generous, guiltlesse, and of free disposition, is to take those things for Bird-bolts, that you deeme Cannon bullets: There is no slan- der in an allow'd foole, though he do nothing but rayle; nor no rayling, in a knowne discreet man, though hee do nothing but reproue.
Now Mercury indue thee with leasing, for thou speak'st well of fooles.
Enter Maria.
Madam, there is at the gate, a young Gentle- man, much desires to speake with you.
From the Count
Orsino,
is it?
I know not (Madam) 'tis a faire young man, and well attended.
Who of my people hold him in delay?
Sir
Toby
Madam, your kinsman.
Fetch him off I pray you, he speakes nothing but madman: Fie on him. Go you
Maluolio;
If it be a suit from the Count, I am sicke, or not at home. What you will, to dismisse it.
Exit Maluo.
Now you see sir, how your fooling growes old, & peo- ple dislike it.
Thou hast spoke for vs (Madona) as if thy eldest sonne should be a foole: whose scull, Ioue cramme with braines, for heere he comes.
Enter Sir Toby.
One of thy kin has a most weake
Pia-mater.
By mine honor halfe drunke. What is he at the gate Cosin?
A Gentleman.
A Gentleman? What Gentleman?
'Tis a Gentleman heere. A plague o'these pickle herring: How now Sot.
Good Sir
Toby.
Cosin, Cosin, how haue you come so earely by this Lethargie?
Letcherie, I defie Letchery: there's one at the gate.
I
marry, what is he?
Let him be the diuell
and
he will, I care not: giue me faith say I. Well, it's all one.
Exit
What's a drunken man like, foole?
Like a drown'd man, a foole, and a madde man: One draught aboue heate, makes him a foole, the second maddes him, and a third drownes him.
Go thou and seeke the Crowner, and let him sitte o'my Coz: for he's in the third degree of drinke: hee's drown'd: go looke after him.
He is but mad yet Madona, and the foole shall looke to the madman.
Enter Maluolio.
Madam, yond young fellow sweares hee will speake with you. I told him you were sicke, he takes on him to vnderstand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you. I told him you were asleepe, he seems to haue a fore knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speake with you. What is to be said to him Ladie, hee's fortified against any deniall.
Tell him, he shall not speake with me.
Ha
's beene told so: and hee sayes hee'l stand at your doore like a Sheriffes post, and be the supporter to a bench, but hee'l speake with you.
What kinde o'man is he?
Why of mankinde.
What manner of man?
Of verie
ill
manner: hee'l speake with you, will you, or no.
Of what personage, and yeeres is he?
Not yet old enough for a man, nor yong enough for a boy: as a squash is before tis a pescod, or a Codling when tis almost an Apple: Tis with him in standing wa- ter, betweene boy and man. He is verie well-fauour'd, and he speakes verie shrewishly: One would thinke his mothers milke were scarse out of him.
Let him approach: Call in my Gentlewoman.
Gentlewoman, my Lady calles.
Exit.
Enter Maria.
Giue me my vaile: come throw it ore my face, Wee'l once more heare
Orsinos
Embassie.
Enter Violenta.
The honorable Ladie of the house, which is she?
Speake to me, I shall answer for her: your
will
.
Most radiant, exquisite, and vnmatchable beau- tie. I pray you tell me if this bee the Lady of the house, for I neuer saw her. I would bee loath to cast away my speech: for besides that it is excellently well pend, I haue taken great paines to con it. Good Beauties, let mee su- staine no scorne; I am very comptible, euen to the least sinister vsage.
Whence came you sir?
I can say little more then I haue studied, & that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, giue mee modest assurance, if you be the Ladie of the house, that
I
may proceede in my speech.
Are you a Comedian?
No my profound heart: and yet (by the verie phangs of malice, I sweare) I am not that I play. Are you the Ladie of the house?
If I do not vsurpe my selfe, I am.
Most certaine, if you are she, you do vsurp your selfe: for what is yours to bestowe, is, not yours to re- serue. But this is from my Commission: I will on with my speech in your praise, and then shew you the heart of my message.
Come to what is important in't: I forgiue you the praise.
Alas, I tooke great paines to studie it, and 'tis Poeticall.
It is the more like to be feigned, I pray you keep it in. I heard you were sawcy at my gates, & allowd your approach rather to wonder at you, then to heare you. If you be not mad, be gone: if you haue reason, be breefe: 'tis not that time of Moone with me, to make one in so skipping a dialogue.
Will you hoyst sayle sir, here lies your way.
No good swabber, I am to hull here a little lon- ger. Some mollification for your Giant, sweete Ladie; tell me your minde, I am a messenger.
Sure you haue some hiddeous matter to deliuer, when the curtesie of it is so fearefull. Speake your office.
It alone concernes your eare: I bring no ouer- ture of warre, no taxation of homage; I hold the Olyffe in my hand: my words are as full of peace, as matter.
Yet you began rudely. What are you? What would you?
The rudenesse that hath appear'd in mee, haue I learn'd from my entertainment. What I am, and what I would, are as secret as maiden-head: to your eares, Di- uinity; to any others, prophanation.
Giue vs the place alone, We will heare this diuinitie. Now sir, what is your text?
Most sweet Ladie.
A comfortable doctrine, and much may bee saide of it. Where lies your Text?
In
Orsinoes
bosome.
In his bosome? In what chapter of his bosome?
To answer by the method, in the first of his hart.
O, I haue read it: it is heresie. Haue you no more to say?
Good Madam, let me see your face.
Haue you any Commission from your Lord, to negotiate with my face: you are now out of your Text: but we will draw the Curtain, and shew you the picture. Looke you sir, such a one I was this present: Ist not well done?
Excellently done, if God did all.
'Tis in graine sir, 'twill endure winde and wea- ther.
Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white, Natures owne sweet, and cunning hand laid on: Lady, you are the cruell'st
shee
aliue, If you will leade these graces to the graue, And leaue the world no copie.
O sir, I will not be so hard-hearted: I will giue out diuers scedules of my beautie. It shalbe Inuentoried and euery particle and vtensile labell'd to my
will
: As, Item two lippes indifferent redde, Item two grey eyes, with lids to them: Item, one necke, one chin, & so forth. Were you sent hither to praise me?
I see you what you are, you are too proud: But if you were the diuell, you are faire: My Lord, and master loues you: O such loue Could be but recompenc'd, though you were crown'd The non-pareil of beautie.
How does he loue me?
With adorations, fertill teares, With groanes that thunder loue, with sighes of fire.
Your Lord does know my mind, I cannot loue him Yet I suppose him vertuous, know him noble, Of great estate, of fresh and stainlesse youth; In voyces well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant, And in dimension, and the shape of nature, A gracious person; But yet I cannot loue him: He might haue tooke his answer long ago.
If I did loue you in my masters flame, With such a suffring, such a deadly life: In your deniall, I would finde no sence, I would not vnderstand it.
Why, what would you?
Make me a willow Cabine at your gate, And call vpon my soule within the house, Write loyall Cantons of contemned loue, And sing them lowd euen in the dead of night: Hallow your name to the reuerberate hilles, And make the babling Gossip of the aire, Cry out
Oliuia:
O you should not rest Betweene the elements of ayre, and earth, But you should pittie me.
You might do much: What is your Parentage?
Aboue my fortunes, yet my state is well: I am a Gentleman.
Get you to your Lord: I cannot loue him: let him send no more, Vnlesse (perchance) you come to me againe, To tell me how he takes it: Fare you well: I thanke you for your paines: spend this for mee.
I am no feede poast, Lady; keepe your purse, My Master, not my selfe, lackes recompence. Loue make his heart of flint, that you shal loue, And let your feruour like my masters be, Plac'd in contempt: Farwell fayre crueltie.
Exit
What is your Parentage? Aboue my fortunes, yet my state is well; I am a Gentleman. Ile be sworne thou art, Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbes, actions, and spirit, Do giue thee fiue-fold blazon: not too fast: soft, soft, Vnlesse the Master were the man. How now? Euen so quickly may one catch the plague? Me thinkes I feele this youths perfections With an inuisible, and subtle stealth To creepe in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. What hoa,
Maluolio.
Enter Maluolio.
Heere Madam, at your seruice.
Run after that same peeuish Messenger The Countes man: he left this Ring behinde him Would I, or not: tell him, Ile none of it. Desire him not to flatter with his Lord, Nor hold him vp with hopes, I am not for him: If that the youth will come this way to morrow, Ile giue him reasons for't: hie thee
Maluolio.
Madam, I will.
Exit.
I do I know not what, and feare to finde Mine eye too great a flatterer for my minde: Fate, shew thy force, our selues we do not owe, What is decreed, must be:
and
be this so.
Finis, Actus primus.
Actus Secundus, Scaena prima.
Enter Antonio & Sebastian.
Will you stay no longer: nor will you not that I go with you.
By your patience, no: my starres shine darkely ouer me; the malignancie of my fate, might perhaps di- stemper yours; therefore I shall craue of you your leaue, that I may beare my euils alone. It were a bad recom- pence for your loue, to lay any of them on you.
Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound.
No sooth sir: my determinate voyage is meere extrauagancie. But I perceiue in you so excellent a touch of modestie, that you will not extort from me, what I am willing to keepe in: therefore it charges me in manners, the rather to expresse my selfe: you must know of mee then
Antonio,
my name is
Sebastian
(which I call'd
Rodo-rigo
) my father was that
Sebastian
of
Messaline,
whom I know you haue heard of. He left behinde him, my selfe, and a sister, both borne in an houre: if the Heauens had beene pleas'd, would we had so ended. But you sir, al-ter'd that, for some houre before you tooke me from the breach of the sea, was my sister drown'd.
Alas the day.
A Lady sir, though it was said shee much resem- bled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but thogh I could not with such estimable wonder ouer-farre be- leeue that, yet thus farre I will boldly publish her, shee bore a minde that enuy could not but call faire: Shee is drown'd already sir with salt water, though I seeme to drowne her remembrance againe with more.
Pardon me sir, your bad entertainment.
O good
Antonio,
forgiue me your trouble.
If you will not murther me for my loue, let mee be your seruant.
If you will not vndo what you haue done, that is kill him, whom you haue recouer'd, desire it not. Fare ye well at once, my bosome is full of kindnesse, and I am yet so neere the manners of my mother, that vpon the least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me: I am bound to the Count Orsino's Court, farewell.
Exit
The gentlenesse of all the gods go with thee: I haue many enemies in Orsino's Court, Else would I very shortly see thee there: But come what may, I do adore thee so, That danger shall seeme sport, and I will go.
Exit.
Scaena Secunda.
Enter Viola and Maluolio, at seuerall doores.
Were not you eu'n now, with the Countesse
O-liuia
?
Euen now sir, on a moderate pace, I haue since a-riu'd but hither.
She returnes this Ring to you (sir) you might haue saued mee my paines, to haue taken it away your selfe. She adds moreouer, that you should put your Lord into a desperate assurance, she will none of him. And one thing more, that you be neuer so hardie to come againe in his affaires, vnlesse it bee to report your Lords taking of this: receiue it so.
She tooke the Ring of me, Ile none of it.
Come sir, you peeuishly threw it to her: and her
will
is, it should be so return'd: If it bee worth stoo- ping for, there it lies, in your eye: if not, bee it his that findes it.
Exit.
I left no Ring with her: what meanes this Lady? Fortune forbid my out-side haue not charm'd her: She made good view of me, indeed so much, That me thought her eyes had lost her tongue, For she did speake in starts distractedly. She loues me sure, the cunning of her passion Inuites me in this churlish messenger: None of my Lords Ring? Why he sent her none; I am the man, if it be so, as tis, Poore Lady, she were better loue a dreame: Disguise, I see thou art a wickednesse, Wherein the pregnant enemie does much. How easie is it, for the proper false In womens waxen hearts to set their formes: Alas, O frailtie is the cause, not wee, For such as we are made, if such we bee: How will this fadge? My master loues her deerely, And I (poore monster) fond asmuch on him: And she (mistaken) seemes to dote on me: What will become of this? As I am man, My state is desperate for my maisters loue: As I am woman (now alas the day) What thriftlesse sighes shall poore
Oliuia
breath? O time, thou must vntangle this, not I, It is too hard a knot for me t' vnty.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.
Approach Sir
Andrew:
not to bee
a
bedde after midnight, is to be vp betimes, and
Deliculo surgere,
thou know'st.
Nay by my troth I know not: but I know, to be vp late, is to be vp late.
A false conclusion: I hate it as an vnfill'd Canne. To be vp after midnight, and to go to bed then is early: so that to go to bed after midnight, is to goe to bed be- times. Does not our liues consist of the foure Ele- ments?
Faith so they say, but I thinke it rather consists of eating and drinking.
Th'art a scholler; let vs therefore eate and drinke
Marian
I say, a stoope of wine.
Enter Clowne.
Heere comes the foole yfaith.
How now my harts: Did you neuer see the Pic- ture of we three?
Welcome asse, now let's haue a catch.
By my troth the foole has an excellent breast. I had rather then forty shillings I had such a legge, and so sweet a breath to sing, as the foole has. Insooth thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spok'st of
Pigrogromitus,
of the
Vapians
passing the Equinoctial of
Queubus:
'twas very good yfaith: I sent thee sixe pence for thy Lemon, hadst it?
I did impeticos thy gratillity: for
Maluolios
nose is no Whip-stocke. My Lady has a white hand, and the Mermidons are no bottle-ale houses.
Excellent: Why this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now a song.
Come on, there is sixe pence for you. Let's haue a song.
There's a testrill of me too: if one knight giue a
Would you haue a loue-song, or a song of good life?
A loue song, a loue song.
I
,
I
. I care not for good life.
.
O Mistris mine where are you roming? O stay and heare, your true loues coming, That can sing both high and low. Trip no further prettie sweeting. Iourneys end in louers meeting, Euery wise mans sonne doth know.
Excellent good, ifaith.
Good, good.
What is loue, tis not heereafter, Present mirth, hath present laughter: What's to come, is still vnsure. In delay there lies no plentie, Then come kisse me sweet and twentie: Youths a stuffe will not endure.
A mellifluous voyce, as I am true knight.
A contagious breath.
Very sweet, and contagious ifaith.
To heare by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make the Welkin dance indeed? Shall wee rowze the night-Owle in a Catch, that will drawe three soules out of one Weauer? Shall we do that?
And
you loue me, let's doo't: I am dogge at a Catch.
Byrlady sir, and some dogs will catch well.
Most certaine: Let our Catch be,
Thou Knaue.
Hold thy peace, thou Knaue
knight. I shall be con-strain'd in't, to call thee knaue, Knight.
'Tis not the first time I haue constrained one to call me knaue. Begin foole: it begins,
Hold thy peace.
I shall neuer begin if I hold my peace.
Good ifaith: Come begin.
Catch sung
Enter Maria.
What a catterwalling doe you keepe heere? If my Ladie haue not call'd vp her Steward
Maluolio,
and bid him turne you out of doores, neuer trust me.
My Lady's a
Catayan,
we are politicians,
Maluolio
s a Peg-a-ramsie, and
Three merry men be wee.
Am not I consanguinious? Am I not of her blood: tilly vally. La- die,
There dwelt a man in Babylon, Lady, Lady.
Beshrew me, the knights in admirable fooling.
I
, he do's well enough if he be dispos'd, and so do I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it more naturall.
O the twelfe day of December.
For the loue
o
' God peace.
Enter Maluolio.
My masters are you mad? Or what are you? Haue you no wit, manners, nor honestie, but to gabble like Tinkers at this time of night? Do yee make an Ale- house of my Ladies house, that ye squeak out your Cozi- ers Catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?
We did keepe time sir in our Catches. Snecke vp.
Sir Toby,
I must be round with you. My Lady bad me tell you, that though she harbors you as her kins- man, she's nothing ally'd to your disorders. If you can separate your selfe and your misdemeanors, you are wel- come to the house: if not, and it would please you to take leaue of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell.
Farewell deere heart, since I must needs be gone.
Nay good Sir
Toby.
His eyes do shew his dayes are almost done.
Is't euen so?
But I will neuer dye.
Sir
Toby
there you lye.
This is much credit to you.
Shall I bid him go.
What
and
if you do?
Shall I bid him go, and spare not?
O no, no, no, no, you dare not.
Out
o
' tune sir, ye lye: Art any more then a Stew- ard? Dost thou thinke because thou art vertuous, there shall be no more Cakes and Ale?
Yes by
S[aint].
Anne, and Ginger shall bee hotte y'th mouth too.
Th'art i'th right. Goe sir, rub your Chaine with crums. A stope of Wine
Maria.
Mistris Mary, if you priz'd my Ladies fauour at any thing more then contempt, you would not giue meanes for this vnciuill rule; she shall know of it by this hand.
Exit
Go shake your eares.
'Twere as good a deede as to drink when a mans
a
hungrie, to challenge him the field, and then to breake promise with him, and make a foole of him.
Doo't knight, Ile write thee a Challenge: or Ile deliuer thy indignation to him by word of mouth.
Sweet Sir Toby be patient for to night: Since the youth of the Counts was to day with my Lady, she is much out of quiet. For Monsieur Maluolio, let me alone with him: If I do not gull him into a nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not thinke I haue witte e- nough to lye straight in my bed: I know I can do it.
Possesse vs, possesse vs, tell vs something of him.
Marrie sir, sometimes he is a kinde of Puritane.
O, if I thought that, Ide beate him like a dogge.
What for being a Puritan, thy exquisite reason, deere knight.
I haue no exquisite reason for't, but I haue reason good enough.
The diu'll a Puritane that hee is, or any thing constantly but a time-pleaser, an affection'd Asse, that cons State without booke, and vtters it by great swarths. The best perswaded of himselfe: so cram'd (as he thinkes) with excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith, that all that looke on him, loue him: and on that vice in him, will my reuenge finde notable cause to worke.
What wilt thou do?
I will drop in his way some obscure Epistles of loue, wherein by the colour of his beard, the shape of his legge, the manner of his gate, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complection, he shall finde himselfe most feelingly personated. I can write very like my Ladie your Neece, on a forgotten matter wee can hardly make distinction of our hands.
Excellent, I smell a deuice.
I hau't in my nose too.
He shall thinke by the Letters that thou wilt drop that they come from my Neece, and that shee's in loue with him.
My purpose is indeed a horse of that colour.
And your horse now would make him an Asse.
Asse, I doubt not.
O twill be admirable.
Sport royall I warrant you: I know my Phy- sicke will worke with him, I will plant you two, and let the Foole make a third, where he shall finde the Letter: obserue his construction of it: For this night to bed, and dreame on the euent: Farewell.
Exit
Good night
Penthisilea.
Before me she's a good wench.
She's a beagle true bred, and one that adores me: what o'that?
I was ador'd once too.
Let's to bed knight: Thou hadst neede send for more money.
If I cannot recouer your Neece, I am a foule way out.
Send for money knight, if thou hast her not i'th end, call me Cut.
If I do not, neuer trust me, take it how you will.
Come, come, Ile go burne some Sacke, tis too late to go to bed now: Come knight, come knight.
Exeunt
Scena Quarta.
Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others.
Giue me some Musick; Now good morow frends. Now good
Cesario,
but that peece of song, That old and Anticke song we heard last night; Me thought it did releeue my passion much, More then light ayres, and recollected termes Of these most briske and giddy-paced times. Come, but one verse.
He is not heere (so please your Lordshippe) that should sing it?
Who was it?
Feste
the Iester my Lord, a foole that the Ladie
Oliuiaes
Father tooke much delight in. He is about the house.
Seeke him out, and play the tune the while.
Musicke playes.
Come hither Boy, if euer thou shalt loue In the sweet pangs of it, remember me: For such as I am, all true Louers are, Vnstaid and skittish in all motions else, Saue in the constant image of the creature That is belou'd. How dost thou like this tune?
It giues a verie eccho to the seate Where loue is thron'd.
Thou dost speake masterly, My life vpon't, yong though thou art, thine eye Hath staid vpon some fauour that it loues: Hath it not boy?
A little, by your fauour.
What kinde of woman ist?
Of your complection.
She is not worth thee then. What yeares ifaith?
About your yeeres my Lord.
Too old by heauen: Let still the woman take An elder then her selfe, so weares she to him; So swayes she leuell in her husbands heart: For boy, howeuer we do praise our selues, Our fancies are more giddie and vnfirme, More longing, wauering, sooner lost and worne, Then womens are.
I thinke it well my Lord.
Then let thy Loue be yonger then thy selfe, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent: For women are as Roses, whose faire flowre Being once displaid, doth fall that verie howre.
And so they are: alas, that they are so: To die, euen when they to perfection grow.
Enter Curio & Clowne.
O fellow come, the song we had last night: Marke it Cesario, it is old and plaine; The Spinsters and the Knitters in the Sun, And the free maides that weaue their thred with bones, Do vse to chaunt it: it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of loue, Like the old age.
Are you ready Sir?
I
prethee sing.
Musicke.
The Song.
Come away, come away death,
And
in sad cypresse let me be laide. Fye away, fie away breath, I am slaine by a faire cruell maide:
My shrowd of white, stuck all with Ew, O prepare it. My part of death no one so true did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweete On my blacke coffin, let there be strewne: Not a friend, not a friend greet My poore corpes, where my bones shall be throwne:
A thousand thousand sighes to saue, lay me o where
Sad true louer neuer find my graue, to weepe there.
There's for thy paines.
No paines sir, I take pleasure in singing sir.
Ile pay thy pleasure then.
Truely sir, and pleasure will be paide one time, or another.
Giue me now leaue, to leaue thee.
Now the melancholly God protect thee, and the Tailor make thy doublet of changeable Taffata, for thy minde is a very Opall. I would haue men of such constan- cie put to Sea, that their businesse might be euery thing, and their intent euerie where, for that's it, that alwayes makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.
Exit
Let all the rest giue place: Once more
Cesario,
Get thee to yond same soueraigne crueltie: Tell her my loue, more noble then the world Prizes not quantitie of dirtie lands, The parts that fortune hath bestow'd vpon her: Tell her I hold as giddily as Fortune: But 'tis that miracle, and Queene of Iems That nature prankes her in, attracts my soule.
But if she cannot loue you sir.
It cannot be so answer'd.
Sooth but you must. Say that some Lady, as perhappes there is, Hath for your loue as great a pang of heart As you haue for
Oliuia:
you cannot loue her: You tel her so: Must she not then be answer'd?
There is no womans sides Can bide the beating of so strong a passion, As loue doth giue my heart: no womans heart So bigge, to hold so much, they lacke retention. Alas, their loue may be call'd appetite, No motion of the Liuer, but the Pallat, That suffer surfet, cloyment, and reuolt, But mine is all as hungry as the Sea, And can digest as much, make no compare Betweene that loue a woman can beare me, And that I owe
Oliuia.
I
but I know.
What dost thou knowe?
Too well what loue women to men may owe: In faith they are as true of heart, as we. My Father had a daughter lou'd a man As it might be perhaps, were I a woman I should your Lordship.
And what's her history?
A blanke my Lord: she neuer told her loue, But let concealment like a worme i'th budde Feede on her damaske cheeke: she pin'd in thought, And with a greene and yellow melancholly, She sate like Patience on a Monument, Smiling at greefe. Was not this loue indeede? We men may say more, sweare more, but indeed Our shewes are more then
will
: for still we proue Much in our vowes, but little in our loue.
But di'de thy sister of her loue my Boy?
I am all the daughters of my Fathers house, And all the brothers too: and yet I know not. Sir, shall I to this Lady?
I
that's the Theame, To her in haste: giue her this Iewell: say, My loue can giue no place, bide no denay.
exeunt
Scena Quinta.
Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.
Come thy wayes Signior
Fabian.
Nay Ile come: if I loose a scruple of this sport, let me be boyl'd to death with Melancholly.
Wouldst thou not be glad to haue the niggard- ly Rascally sheepe-biter, come by some notable shame?
I would exult man: you know he brought me out
o
' fauour with my Lady, about a Beare-baiting heere.
To anger him wee'l haue the Beare againe, and we will foole him blacke and blew, shall we not sir
An-drew
?
And
we do not, it is pittie of our liues.
Enter Maria.
Heere comes the little villaine: How now my Mettle of India?
Get ye all three into the box tree:
Maluolio
's comming downe this walke, he has beene yonder i'the Sunne practising behauiour to his own shadow this halfe houre: obserue him for the loue of Mockerie: for I know this Letter wil make a contemplatiue Ideot of him. Close in the name of ieasting, lye thou there: for heere comes the Trowt, that must be caught with tickling.
Exit
Enter Maluolio.
'Tis but Fortune, all is fortune.
Maria
once told me she did affect me, and I haue heard her self come thus neere, that should shee fancie, it should bee one of my complection. Besides she vses me with a more ex- alted respect, then any one else that followes her. What should I thinke on't?
Heere's an ouer-weening rogue.
Oh peace: Contemplation makes a rare Turkey Cocke of him, how he iets vnder his aduanc'd plumes.
Slight I could so beate the Rogue.
Peace I say.
To be Count
Maluolio.
Ah Rogue.
Pistoll him, pistoll him.
Peace, peace.
There is example for't: The Lady of the
Stra-chy,
married the yeoman of the wardrobe.
Fie on him Iezabel.
O peace, now he's deepely in: looke how imagi- nation blowes him.
Hauing beene three moneths married to her, sitting in my state.
O for a stone-bow to hit him in the eye.
Calling my Officers about me, in my branch'd Veluet gowne: hauing come from a day bedde, where I haue left
Oliuia
sleeping.
Fire and Brimstone.
O peace, peace.
And then to haue the humor of state: and after a demure trauaile of regard: telling them I knowe my place, as I would they should doe theirs: to aske for my kinsman
Toby.
Boltes and shackles.
Oh peace, peace, peace, now, now.
Seauen of my people with an obedient start, make out for him: I frowne the while, and perchance winde vp my watch, or play with my some rich Iewell:
Toby
approaches; curtsies there to me.
Shall this fellow liue?
Though our silence be drawne from vs with cars, yet peace.
I extend my hand to him thus: quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of controll.
And do's not
Toby
take you a blow o'the lippes, then?
Saying, Cosine
Toby,
my Fortunes hauing cast me on your Neece, giue me this prerogatiue of speech.
What, what?
You must amend your drunkennesse.
Out scab.
Nay patience, or we breake the sinewes of our plot?
Besides you waste the treasure of your time, with a foolish knight.
That's mee I warrant you.
One sir
Andrew.
I knew 'twas I, for many do call mee foole.
What employment haue we heere?
Now is the Woodcocke neere the gin.
Oh peace, and the spirit of humors intimate rea- ding aloud to him.
By my life this is my Ladies hand: these bee her very
C's,
her
V
's,
and her
T's,
and thus makes shee her great
P's.
It is in contempt of question her hand.
Her
C's,
her
V
's,
and her
T's:
why that?
To the vnknowne belou'd, this, and my good Wishes:
Her very Phrases: By your leaue wax. Soft, and the im- pressure her
Lucrece,
with which she vses to seale: tis my Lady: To whom should this be?
This winnes him, Liuer and all.
Ioue knowes I loue, but who, Lips do not mooue, no
man must know.
No man must know. What followes? The numbers alter'd: No man must know, If this should be thee
Maluolio
?
Marrie hang thee brocke.
I may command where I adore, but silence like a Lu- cresse knife:
With bloodlesse stroke my heart doth gore, M.O.A.I. doth sway my life.
A fustian riddle.
Excellent Wench, say I.
M.O.A.I.
doth sway my life. Nay but first let me see, let me see, let me see.
What dish
a
poyson has she drest him?
And with what wing the stallion checkes at it?
I may command, where I adore:
Why shee may command me: I serue her, she is my Ladie. Why this is euident to any formall capacitie. There is no obstruction in this, and the end: What should that Alphabeticall po- sition portend, if I could make that resemble something in me? Softly,
M.O.A.I.
O
I
, make vp that, he is now at a cold sent.
Sowter will cry vpon't for all this, though it bee as ranke as a Fox.
M. Maluolio, M.
why that begins my name.
Did not I say he would worke it out, the Curre is excellent at faults.
M.
But then there is no consonancy in the sequell that suffers vnder probation:
A
.
should follow, but
O
.
does.
And
O
shall end, I hope.
I
, or Ile cudgell him, and make him cry
O.
And then
I
.
comes behind.
I
,
and
you had any eye behinde you, you might see more detraction at your heeles, then Fortunes before you.
M,O,A,I.
This simulation is not as the former: and yet to crush this a little, it would bow to mee, for e- uery one of these Letters are in my name. Soft, here fol- lowes prose:
If this fall into thy hand, reuolue.
In my stars I am aboue thee, but be not affraid of greatnesse: Some are become great, some atcheeues greatnesse, and some haue greatnesse thrust vppon em. Thy fates open theyr hands, let thy blood and spirit embrace them, and to in- vre thy selfe to what thou art like to be: cast thy humble slough, and appeare fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with seruants: Let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thy selfe into the tricke of singularitie. Shee thus aduises thee, that sighes for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings, and wish'd to see thee euer crosse garter'd: I say remember, goe
too
, thou art made if thou desir'st to be so: If not, let me see thee a ste- ward still, the fellow of seruants, and not woorthie to touch Fortunes fingers Farewell, Shee that would alter seruices with thee, the fortunate vnhappy daylight and champian discouers not more: This is open, I will bee proud, I will reade politicke Authours, I will baffle Sir
Toby,
I will wash off grosse acquaintance, I will be point deuise, the very man. I do not now foole my selfe, to let imagination iade mee; for euery reason excites to this, that my Lady loues me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late, shee did praise my legge being crosse-garter'd, and in this she manifests her selfe to my loue, & with a kinde of iniunction driues mee to these habites of her liking. I thanke my starres, I am happy: I will bee strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and crosse Garter'd, euen with the swiftnesse of putting on. Ioue, and my starres be praised. Heere is yet a postscript.
Thou canst
not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainst my loue, let
it appeare in thy smiling, thy smiles become thee well. There-fore
in my presence still smile, deero my sweete, I prethee.
Ioue I thanke thee, I will smile, I wil do euery thing that thou wilt haue me.
Exit
I will not giue my part of this sport for a pensi- on of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.
I could marry this wench for this deuice.
So could I too.
And aske no other dowry with her, but such ano- ther iest.
Enter Maria.
Nor I neither.
Heere comes my noble gull catcher.
Wilt thou set thy foote o'my necke.
Or o'mine either?
Shall I play my freedome at tray-trip, and becom thy bondslaue?
Ifaith, or I either?
Why, thou hast put him in such a dreame, that when the image of it leaues him, he must run mad.
Nay but say true, do's it worke vpon him?
Like Aqua vite with a Midwife.
If you will then see the fruites of the sport, mark his first approach before my Lady: hee will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhorres, and crosse garter'd, a fashion shee detests: and hee will smile vpon her, which will now be so vnsuteable to her dispo- sition, being addicted to a melancholly, as shee is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you wil see it follow me.
To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent diuell of wit.
Ile make one too.
Exeunt.
Finis Actus secundus
Actus Tertius, Scaena prima.
Enter Viola and Clowne.
Saue thee Friend and thy Musick: dost thou liue by thy Tabor?
No sir, I liue by the Church.
Art thou a Churchman?
No such matter sir, I do liue by the Church: For, I do liue at my house, and my house dooth stand by the Church.
So thou maist say the Kings lyes by a begger, if a begger dwell neer him: or the Church stands by thy Ta- bor, if thy Tabor stand by the Church.
You haue said sir: To see this age: A sentence is but a cheu'rill gloue to a good witte, how quickely the wrong side may be turn'd outward.
Nay that's certaine: they that dally nicely with words, may quickely make them wanton.
I would therefore my sister had had no name Sir.
Why man?
Why sir, her names a word, and to dallie with that word, might make my sister wanton: But indeede, words are very Rascals, since bonds disgrac'd them.
Thy reason man?
Troth sir, I can yeeld you none without wordes, and wordes are growne so false, I am loath to proue rea- son with them.
I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and car'st for nothing.
Not so sir, I do care for something: but in my con- science sir, I do not care for you: if that be to care for no- thing sir, I would it would make you inuisible.
Art not thou the Lady
Oliuia's
foole?
No indeed sir, the Lady
Oliuia
has no folly, shee will keepe no foole sir, till she be married, and fooles are as like husbands, as Pilchers are to Herrings, the Hus- bands the bigger, I am indeede not her foole, but hir cor- rupter of words.
I saw thee late at the Count
Orsino's.
Foolery sir, does walke about the Orbe like the Sun, it shines euery where. I would be sorry sir, but the Foole should be as oft with your Master, as with my Mi- stris: I thinke I saw your wisedome there.
Nay,
and
thou passe vpon me, Ile no more with thee. Hold there's expences for thee.
Now Ioue in his next commodity of hayre, send thee a beard.
By my troth Ile tell thee, I am almost sicke for one, though I would not haue it grow on my chinne. Is thy Lady within?
Would not a paire of these haue bred sir?
Yes being kept together, and put to vse.
I would play Lord
Pandarus
of
Phrygia
sir, to bring a
Cressida
to this
Troylus.
I vnderstand you sir, tis well begg'd.
The matter I hope is not great sir; begging, but a begger:
Cressida
was a begger. My Lady is within sir. I will conster to them whence you come, who you are, and what you would are out of my welkin, I might say Ele- ment, but the word is ouer-worne.
exit
This fellow is wise enough to play the foole, And to do that well, craues a kinde of wit: He must obserue their mood on whom he iests, The quality of persons, and the time: And like the Haggard, checke at euery Feather That comes before his eye. This is a practice, As full of labour as a Wise-mans
Art
: For folly that he wisely shewes, is fit; But wisemens folly falne, quite taint their wit.
Enter Sir Toby and Andrew.
Saue you Gentleman.
And you sir.
Dieu vou guard Monsieur.
Et vouz ousie vostre seruiture.
I hope sir, you are, and I am yours.
Will you incounter the house, my Neece is desi- rous you should enter, if your trade be to her.
I am bound to your Neece sir, I meane she is the list of my voyage.
Taste your legges sir, put them to motion.
My legges do better vnderstand me sir, then I vn- derstand what you meane by bidding me taste my legs.
I meane to go sir, to enter.
I will answer you with gate and entrance, but we are preuented.
Enter Oliuia, and Gentlewoman.
Most excellent accomplish'd Lady, the heauens raine O- dours on you.
That youth's a rare Courtier, raine odours, wel.
My matter hath no voice Lady, but to your owne most pregnant and vouchsafed eare.
Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed: Ile get 'em all three already.
Let the Garden doore be shut, and leaue mee to my hearing. Giue me your hand sir.
My dutie Madam, and most humble seruice.
What is your name?
Cesario
is your seruants name, faire Princesse.
My seruant sir? 'Twas neuer merry world, Since lowly feigning was call'd complement: Y'are seruant to the Count
Orsino
youth.
And he is yours, and his must needs be yours: Your seruants seruant, is your seruant Madam.
For him, I thinke not on him: for his thoughts, Would they were blankes, rather then fill'd with me.
Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts On his behalfe.
O by your leaue I pray you. I bad you neuer speake againe of him; But would you vndertake another suite I had rather heare you, to solicit that, Then Musicke from the spheares.
Deere Lady.
Giue me leaue, beseech you: I did send, After the last enchantment you did heare, A Ring in chace of you. So did I abuse My selfe, my seruant, and I feare me you: Vnder your hard construction must I sit, To force that on you in a shamefull cunning Which you knew none of yours. What might you think? Haue you not set mine Honor at the stake, And baited it with all th' vnmuzled thoughts That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiuing Enough is shewne, a Cipresse, not a bosome, Hides my heart: so let me heare you speake.
I pittie you.
That's a degree to loue.
No not a grize: for tis a vulgar proofe That verie oft we pitty enemies.
Why then me thinkes 'tis time to smile agen: O world, how apt the poore are to be proud? If one should be a prey, how much the better To fall before the Lion, then the Wolfe?
Clocke strikes.
The clocke vpbraides me with the waste of time: Be not affraid good youth, I will not haue you, And yet when wit and youth is come to haruest, Your wife is like to reape a proper man: There lies your way, due West.
Then Westward hoe: Grace and good disposition attend your Ladyship: You'l nothing Madam to my Lord, by me:
Stay: I prethee tell me what thou thinkst of me?
That you do thinke you are not what you are.
If I thinke so, I thinke the same of you.
Then thinke you right: I am not what I am.
I would you were, as I would haue you be.
Would it be better Madam, then I am? I wish it might, for now I am your foole.
O what a deale of scorne, lookes beautifull? In the contempt and anger of his lip, A murdrous guilt shewes not it selfe more soone, Then loue that would seeme hid: Loues night, is noone.
Cesario,
by the Roses of the Spring, By maid-hood, honor, truth, and euery thing, I loue thee so, that maugre all thy pride, Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide: Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause: But rather reason thus, with reason fetter; Loue sought, is good: but giuen vnsought, is better.
By innocence I sweare, and by my youth, I haue one heart, one bosome, and one truth, And that no woman has, nor neuer none Shall mistris be of it, saue I alone. And so adieu good Madam, neuer more, Will I my Masters teares to you deplore.
Yet come againe: for thou perhaps mayst moue That heart which now abhorres, to like his loue.
Exeunt
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.
No faith, Ile not stay a iot longer:
Thy reason deere venom, giue thy reason.
You must needes yeelde your reason, Sir
An-drew
?
Marry I saw your Neece do more fauours to the Counts Seruing-man, then euer she bestow'd vpon mee: I saw't i'th Orchard.
Did she see
the
while, old boy, tell me that.
As plaine as I see you now.
This was a great argument of loue in her toward you.
S'light; will you make an Asse o'me.
I will proue it legitimate sir, vpon the Oathes of iudgement, and reason.
And they haue beene grand Iurie men, since before
Noah
was a Saylor.
Shee did shew fauour to the youth in your sight, onely to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in your Heart, and brimstone in your Liuer: you should then haue accosted her, and with some excel- lent iests, fire-new from the mint, you should haue bangd the youth into dumbenesse: this was look'd for at your hand, and this was baulkt: the double gilt of this oppor- tunitie you let time wash off, and you are now sayld into the North of my Ladies opinion, where you will hang like an ysickle on a Dutchmans beard, vnlesse you do re- deeme it, by some laudable attempt, either of valour or policie.
And't be any way, it must be with Valour, for policie I hate: I had as liefe be a Brownist, as a Politi- cian.
Why then build me thy fortunes vpon the basis of valour. Challenge me the Counts youth to fight with him hurt him in eleuen places, my Neece shall take note of it, and assure thy selfe, there is no loue-Broker in the world, can more preuaile in mans commendation with woman, then report of valour.
There is no way but this sir
Andrew.
Will either of you beare me a challenge to him?
Go, write it in a martial hand, be curst and briefe: it is no matter how wittie, so it bee eloquent, and full of inuention: taunt him with the license of Inke: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amisse, and as ma- ny Lyes, as will lye in thy sheete of paper, although the sheete were bigge enough for the bedde of
Ware
in Eng- land, set 'em downe, go about it. Let there bee gaulle e- nough in thy inke, though thou write with a Goose-pen, no matter: about it.
Where shall I finde you?
Wee'l call thee at the Cubiculo: Go.
Exit Sir Andrew.
This is a deere Manakin to you Sir
Toby.
I haue beene deere to him lad, some two thousand strong, or so.
We shall haue a rare Letter from him; but you'le not deliuer't.
Neuer trust me then: and by all meanes stirre on the youth to an answer. I thinke Oxen and waine-ropes cannot hale them together. For
Andrew,
if he were open'd and you finde so much blood in his Liuer, as will clog the foote of a flea, Ile eate the rest of th' anatomy.
And his opposit the youth beares in his visage no great presage of cruelty.
Enter Maria.
Looke where the youngest Wren of mine comes.
If you desire the spleene, and will laughe your selues into stitches, follow me; yond gull
Maluolio
is tur- ned Heathen, a verie Renegatho; for there is no christian that meanes to be saued by beleeuing rightly, can euer beleeue such impossible passages of grossenesse. Hee's in yellow stockings.
And crosse garter'd?
Most villanously: like a Pedant that keepes a Schoole i'th Church: I haue dogg'd him like his murthe- rer. He does obey euery point of the Letter that I dropt, to betray him: He does smile his face into more lynes, then is in the new Mappe, with the augmentation of the Indies: you haue not seene such a thing as tis: I can hard- ly forbeare hurling things at him, I know my Ladie will strike him: if shee doe, hee'l smile, and take't for a great fauour.
Come bring vs, bring vs where he is.
Exeunt Omnes.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Sebastian and Anthonio.
I would not by my
will
haue troubled you, But since you make your pleasure of your paines, I will no further chide you.
I could not stay behinde you: my desire (More sharpe then filed steele) did spurre me forth, And not all loue to see you (though so much As might haue drawne one to a longer voyage) But iealousie, what might befall your trauell, Being skillesse in these parts: which to a stranger, Vnguided, and vnfriended, often proue Rough, and vnhospitable. My willing loue, The rather by these arguments of feare Set forth in your pursuite.
My kinde
Anthonio,
I can no other answer make, but thankes, And thankes: and euer oft good turnes, Are shuffel'd off with such vncurrant pay: But were my worth, as is my conscience firme, You should finde better dealing: what's to do? Shall we go see the reliques of this Towne?
To morrow sir, best first go see your Lodging?
I am not weary, and 'tis long to night I pray you let vs satisfie our eyes With the memorials, and the things of fame That do renowne this City.
Would youl'd pardon me: I do not without danger walke these streetes. Once in a sea-fight 'gainst the Count his gallies, I did some seruice, of such note indeede, That were I tane heere, it would scarse be answer'd.
Belike you slew great number of his people.
Th' offence is not of such a bloody nature, Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrell Might well haue giuen vs bloody argument: It might haue since bene answer'd in repaying What we tooke from them, which for Traffiques sake Most of our City did. Onely my selfe stood out, For which if I be lapsed in this place I shall pay deere.
Do not then walke too open.
It doth not fit me: hold sir, here's my purse, In the South Suburbes at the Elephant Is best to lodge: I will bespeake our dyet, Whiles you beguile the time, and feed your knowledge With viewing of the Towne, there shall you haue me.
Why I your purse?
Haply your eye shall light vpon some toy You haue desire to purchase: and your store I thinke is not for idle Markets, sir.
Ile be your purse-bearer, and leaue you For an houre.
To th' Elephant.
I do remember.
Exeunt.
Scoena Quarta.
Enter Oliuia and Maria.
I haue sent after him, he sayes hee'l come: How shall I feast him? What bestow of him? For youth is bought more oft, then begg'd, or borrow'd. I speake too loud: Where's
Maluolio,
he is sad, and ciuill, And suites well for a seruant with my fortunes, Where is
Maluolio
?
He's comming Madame: But in very strange manner. He is sure possest Madam.
Why what's the matter, does he raue?
No Madam, he does nothing but smile: your La- dyship were best to haue some guard about you, if hee come, for sure the man is tainted in's wits.
Go call him hither.
Enter Maluolio.
I am as madde as hee, If sad and merry madnesse equall bee. How now
Maluolio
?
Sweet Lady, ho, ho.
Smil'st thou? I sent for thee vpon a sad occasion.
Sad Lady, I could be sad: This does make some obstruction in the blood: This crosse-gartering, but what of that? If it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true Sonnet is: Please one, and please all.
Why how doest thou man? What is the matter with thee?
Not blacke in my minde, though yellow in my legges: It did come to his hands, and Commaunds shall be executed. I thinke we doe know the sweet Romane hand.
Wilt thou go to bed
Maluolio
?
To bed?
I
sweet heart, and Ile come to thee.
God comfort thee: Why dost thou smile so, and kisse thy hand so oft?
How do you
Maluolio
?
At your request: Yes Nightingales answere Dawes.
Why appeare you with this ridiculous bold- nesse before my Lady.
Be not afraid of greatnesse: 'twas well writ.
What meanst thou by that
Maluolio
?
Some are borne great.
Ha?
Some atcheeue greatnesse.
What sayst thou?
And some haue greatnesse thrust vpon them.
Heauen restore thee.
Remember who commended thy yellow stock- ings.
Thy yellow stockings?
And wish'd to see thee crosse garter'd.
Crosse garter'd?
Go
too
, thou art made, if thou desir'st to be so.
Am I made?
If not, let me see thee a seruant still.
Why this is verie Midsommer madnesse.
Enter Seruant.
Madame, the young Gentleman of the Count
Orsino's
is return'd, I could hardly entreate him backe: he attends your Ladyships pleasure.
Ile come to him. Good
Maria,
let this fellow be look'd
too
. Where's my Cosine
Toby,
let some of my people haue a speciall care of him, I would not haue him miscarrie for the halfe of my Dowry.
exit
Oh ho, do you come neere me now: no worse man then sir
Toby
to looke to me. This concurres direct- ly with the Letter, she sends him on purpose, that I may appeare stubborne to him: for she incites me to that in the Letter. Cast thy humble slough sayes she: be oppo- site with a Kinsman, surly with seruants, let thy tongue langer with arguments of state, put thy selfe into the tricke of singularity: and consequently setts downe the manner how: as a sad face, a reuerend carriage, a slow tongue, in the habite of some
Sir
of note, and so foorth. I haue lymde her, but it is Ioues doing, and Ioue make me thankefull. And when she went away now, let this Fel- low be look'd
too
: Fellow? not
Maluolio,
nor after my degree, but Fellow. Why euery thing adheres togither, that no dramme of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or vnsafe circumstance: What can be saide? Nothing that can be, can come betweene me, and the full prospect of my hopes. Well Ioue, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked.
Enter Toby, Fabian, and Maria.
Which way is hee in the name of sanctity. If all the diuels of
hell
be drawne in little, and Legion himselfe possest him, yet Ile speake to him.
Heere he is, heere he is: how ist with you sir? How ist with you man?
Go off, I discard you: let me enioy my priuate: go off.
Lo, how hollow the fiend speakes within him; did not I tell you? Sir
Toby,
my Lady prayes you to haue a care of him.
Ah ha, does she so?
Go
too
, go
too
: peace, peace, wee must deale gently with him: Let me alone. How do you
Maluolio
? How ist with you? What man, defie the diuell: consider, he's an enemy to mankinde.
Do you know what you say?
La you,
and
you speake
ill
of the diuell, how he takes it at heart. Pray God he be not bewitch'd.
Carry his water to th' wise woman.
Marry and it shall be done to morrow morning if I liue. My Lady would not loose him for more then ile say.
How now mistris?
Oh Lord.
Prethee hold thy peace, this is not the way: Doe you not see you moue him? Let me alone with him.
No way but gentlenesse, gently, gently: the Fiend is rough, and will not be roughly vs'd.
Why how now my bawcock? how dost
chuck?
Sir.
I
biddy, come with me. What man, tis not for grauity to play at cherrie-pit with sathan Hang him foul Colliar.
Get him to say his prayers, good sir
Toby
gette him to pray.
My prayers Minx.
No I warrant you, he will not heare of godly- nesse.
Go hang your selues all: you are ydle shallowe things, I am not of your element, you shall knowe more heereafter.
Exit
Ist possible?
If this were plaid vpon a stage now, I could con- demne it as an improbable fiction.
His very genius hath taken the infection of the deuice man.
Nay pursue him now, least the deuice take ayre, and taint.
Why we shall make him mad indeede.
The house will be the quieter.
Come, wee'l haue him in a darke room & bound. My Neece is already in the beleefe that he's mad: we may carry it thus for our pleasure, and his pennance, til our ve- ry pastime tyred out of breath, prompt vs to haue mercy on him: at which time, we wil bring the deuice to the bar and crowne thee for a finder of madmen: but see, but see.
Enter Sir Andrew.
More matter for a
May
morning.
Heere's the Challenge, reade it: I warrant there's vinegar and pepper in't.
Ist so sawcy?
I
, ist? I warrant him: do but read.
Giue me.
Youth, whatsoeuer thou art, thou art but a scuruy fellow.
Good, and valiant.
Wonder not, nor admire not in thy minde why I doe call thee so, for I will shew thee no reason for't.
A good note, that keepes you from the blow of
 
Law
Thou comst to the Lady Oliuia, and in my sight she vses
thee kindly: but thou lyest in thy throat, that is not the matter I challenge thee for.
Very breefe, and to exceeding good sence-lesse.
I will way-lay thee going home, where if it be thy chance to kill me.
Good.
Thou kilst me like a rogue and a villaine.
Still you keepe o'th windie side of the Law: good.
Fartheewell, and God haue mercie vpon one of our
soules. He may haue mercie vpon mine, but my hope is better,
and so looke to thy selfe. Thy friend as thou vsest him, & thy sworne enemie,
Andrew Ague-cheeke.
If this Letter moue him not, his legges cannot: Ile giu't him.
You may haue verie fit occasion for't: he is now in some commerce with my Ladie, and will
by
and by depart.
Go sir
Andrew:
scout mee for him at the corner of the Orchard like a bum-Baylie: so soone as euer thou seest him, draw, and as thou draw'st, sweare horrible: for it comes to passe oft, that a terrible oath, with a swagge- ring accent sharpely twang'd off, giues manhoode more approbation, then euer proofe it selfe would haue earn'd him. Away.
Nay let me alone for swearing.
Exit
Now will not I deliuer his Letter: for the behaui- our of the yong Gentleman, giues him out to be of good capacity, and breeding: his employment betweene his Lord and my Neece, confirmes no lesse. Therefore, this Letter being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror in the youth: he will finde it comes from a Clodde-pole. But sir, I will deliuer his Challenge by word of mouth; set vpon
Ague-cheeke
a notable report of valor, and driue the Gentleman (as I know his youth will aptly receiue it) into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, furie, and impetuositie. This will so fright them both, that they wil kill one another by the looke, like Cockatrices.
Enter Oliuia and Viola.
Heere he comes with your Neece, giue them way till he take leaue, and presently after him.
I wil meditate the while vpon some horrid message for a Challenge.
I haue said too much vnto a hart of stone, And laid mine honour too vnchary on't: There's something in me that reproues my fault: But such a head-strong potent fault it is, That it but mockes reproofe.
With the same hauiour that your passion beares, Goes on my Masters greefes.
Heere, weare this Iewell for me, tis my picture: Refuse it not, it hath no tongue, to vex you: And I beseech you come againe to morrow. What shall you aske of me that Ile deny, That honour (sau'd) may vpon asking giue.
Nothing but this, your true loue for my master.
How with mine honor may I giue him that, Which I haue giuen to you.
I will acquit you.
Well, come againe to morrow: far-thee-well, A Fiend like thee might beare my soule to
hell
.
Enter Toby and Fabian.
Gentleman, God saue thee.
And you sir.
That defence thou hast, betake
the
too't: of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I knowe not: but thy intercepter full of despight, bloody as the Hun- ter, attends thee at the Orchard end: dismount thy tucke, be
yare
in thy preparation, for thy assaylant is quick, skil- full, and deadly.
You mistake sir I am sure, no man hath any quar- rell to me: my remembrance is very free and cleere from any image of offence done to any man.
You'l finde it otherwise I assure you: therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake you to your gard: for your opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill, and wrath, can furnish man withall.
I pray you sir what is he?
He is knight dubb'd with vnhatch'd Rapier, and on carpet consideration, but he is a diuell in priuate brall, soules and bodies hath he diuorc'd three, and his incense- ment at this moment is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none, but by pangs of death and sepulcher: Hob, nob, is his word: giu't or take't.
I will returne againe into the house, and desire some conduct of the Lady. I am no fighter, I haue heard of some kinde of men, that put quarrells purposely on o- thers, to taste their valour: belike this is a man of that quirke.
Sir, no: his indignation deriues it selfe out of a ve- ry computent iniurie, therefore get you on, and giue him his desire. Backe you shall not to the house, vnlesse you vndertake that with me, which with as much safetie you might answer him: therefore on, or strippe your sword starke naked: for meddle you must that's certain, or for- sweare to weare iron about you.
This is as vnciuill as strange. I beseech you doe me this courteous office, as to know of the Knight what my offence to him is: it is something of my negligence, nothing of my purpose.
I will doe so. Signiour
Fabian,
stay you by this Gentleman, till my returne.
Exit Toby.
Pray you sir, do you know of this matter?
I know the knight is incenst against you, euen to a mortall arbitrement, but nothing of the circumstance more.
I beseech you what manner of man is he?
Nothing of that wonderfull promise to read him by his forme, as you are like to finde him in the proofe of his valour. He is indeede sir, the most skilfull, bloudy, & fatall opposite that you could possibly haue found in anie part of Illyria: will you walke towards him, I will make your peace with him, if I can.
I shall bee much bound to you for't: I am one, that had rather go with sir Priest, then sir knight: I care not who knowes so much of my mettle.
Exeunt.
Enter Toby and Andrew.
Why man hee s a verie diuell, I haue not seen such a firago: I had a passe with him, rapier, scabberd, and all: and he giues me the stucke in with such a mortall motion that it is ineuitable: and on the answer, he payes you as surely, as your feete hits the ground they step on. They say, he has bin Fencer to the Sophy.
Pox on't, Ile not meddle with him.
I
but he will not now be pacified,
Fabian
can scarse hold him yonder.
Plague on't,
and
I thought he had beene valiant, and so cunning in Fence, I'de haue seene him damn'd ere I'de haue challeng'd him. Let him let the matter slip, and Ile giue him my horse, gray Capilet.
Ile make the motion: stand heere, make a good shew on't, this shall end without the perdition of soules, marry Ile ride your horse as well as I ride you.
Enter Fabian and Viola.
I haue his horse to take vp the quarrell, I haue perswaded him the youths a diuell.
He is as horribly conceited of him: and pants, & lookes pale, as if a Beare were at his heeles.
There's no remedie sir, he will fight with you for's oath sake: marrie hee hath better bethought him of his quarrell, and hee findes that now scarse to bee worth tal- king of: therefore draw for the supportance of his vowe, he protests he will not hurt you.
Pray God defend me: a little thing would make me tell them how much I lacke of a man.
Giue ground if you see him furious.
Come sir
Andrew,
there's no remedie, the Gen- tleman will for his honors sake haue one bowt with you: he cannot by the Duello auoide it: but hee has promised me, as he is a Gentleman and a Soldiour, he will not hurt you. Come on, too't.
Pray God he keepe his oath.
Enter Antonio.
I do assure you tis against my
will
.
Put vp your sword: if this yong Gentleman Haue done offence, I take the fault on me: If you offend him, I for him defie you.
You sir? Why, what are you?
One sir, that for his loue dares yet do more Then you haue heard him brag to you he will.
Nay, if you be an vndertaker, I am for you.
Enter Officers.
O good sir
Toby
hold: heere come the Officers.
Ile be with you anon.
Pray sir, put your sword vp if you please.
Marry will I sir: and for that I promis'd you Ile be as good as my word. Hee will beare you easily, and raines well.
This is the man, do thy Office.
Anthonio,
I arrest thee at the suit of Count
Orsino
You do mistake me sir.
No sir, no iot: I know your fauour well: Though now you haue no sea-cap on your head: Take him away, he knowes I know him well.
I must obey. This comes with seeking you: But there's no remedie, I shall answer it: What will you do: now my necessitie Makes me to aske you for my purse. It greeues mee Much more, for what I cannot do for you, Then what befals my selfe: you stand amaz'd, But be of comfort.
Come sir away.
I must entreat of you some of that money.
What money sir? For the fayre kindnesse you haue shew'd me heere, And part being prompted by your present trouble, Out of my leane and low ability Ile lend you something: my
hauing
is not much, Ile make diuision of my present with you: Hold, there's halfe my Coffer.
Will you deny me now, Ist possible that my deserts to you Can lacke perswasion. Do not tempt my misery, Least that it make me so vnsound a man As to vpbraid you with those kindnesses That I haue done for you.
I know of none, Nor know I you by voyce, or any feature: I hate ingratitude more in a man, Then lying, vainnesse, babling drunkennesse, Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption Inhabites our fraile blood.
Oh heauens themselues.
Come sir, I pray you go.
Let me speake a little. This youth that you see
heere
, I snatch'd one halfe out of the iawes of death, Releeu'd him with such sanctitie of loue; And to his image, which me thought did promise Most venerable worth, did I deuotion.
What's that to vs, the time goes by: Away.
But oh, how vilde an idoll proues this God: Thou hast
Sebastian
done good feature, shame. In Nature, there's no blemish but the minde: None can be call'd deform'd, but the vnkinde. Vertue is beauty, but the beauteous euill Are empty trunkes, ore-flourish'd by the deuill.
The man growes mad, away with him: Come, come sir.
Leade me on.
Exit
Me thinkes his words do from such passion flye That he beleeues himselfe, so do not I: Proue true imagination, oh proue true, That I deere brother, be now tane for you.
Come hither Knight, come hither
Fabian:
Weel whisper ore a couplet or two of most sage sawes.
He nam'd
Sebastian:
I my brother know Yet liuing in my glasse: euen such, and so In fauour was my Brother, and he went Still in this fashion, colour, ornament, For him I imitate: Oh if it proue, Tempests are kinde, and salt waues fresh in loue.
A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward then a Hare, his dishonesty appeares, in leauing his frend heere in necessity, and denying him: and for his coward- ship aske
Fabian.
A Coward, a most deuout Coward, religious in it.
Slid Ile after him againe, and beate him.
Do, cuffe him soundly, but neuer draw thy sword
And
I do not.
Come, let's see the euent.
I dare lay any money, twill be nothing yet.
Exit
Actus Quartus, Scaena prima.
Enter Sebastian and Clowne.
Will you make me beleeue, that I am not sent for you?
Go
too
, go
too
, thou art a foolish fellow, Let me be cleere of thee.
Well held out yfaith: No, I do not know you, nor I am not sent to you by my Lady, to bid you come speake with her: nor your name is not Master
Cesario,
nor this is not my nose neyther: Nothing that is so, is so.
I prethee vent thy folly some-where else, thou know'st not me.
Vent my folly: He has heard that word of some great man, and now applyes it to a foole. Vent my fol- ly: I am affraid this great lubber the World will proue a Cockney: I prethee now vngird thy strangenes, and tell me what I shall vent to my Lady? Shall I vent to hir that thou art comming?
I prethee foolish greeke depart from me, there's money for thee, if you tarry longer, I shall giue worse paiment.
By my troth thou hast an open hand: these Wise- men that giue fooles money, get themselues a good re- port, after foureteene yeares purchase.
Enter Andrew, Toby, and Fabian.
Now sir, haue I met you again: ther's for you.
Why there's for thee, and there, and there, Are all the people mad?
Hold sir, or Ile throw your dagger ore the house
This will I tell my Lady straight, I would not be in some of your coats for two pence.
Come on sir, hold.
Nay let him alone, Ile go another way to worke with him: Ile haue an action of Battery against him, if there be any law in Illyria: though I stroke him first, yet it's no matter for that.
Let go thy hand.
Come sir, I will not let you go. Come my yong souldier put vp your yron: you are well flesh'd: Come on.
I will be free from thee. What wouldst
now? If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword.
What, what? Nay then I must haue an Ounce or two of this malapert blood from you.
Enter Oliuia.
Hold
Toby,
on thy life I charge thee hold.
Madam.
Will it be euer thus? Vngracious wretch, Fit for the Mountaines, and the barbarous Caues, Where manners nere were preach'd: out of my sight. Be not offended, deere
Cesario:
Rudesbey be gone. I prethee gentle friend, Let thy fayre wisedome, not thy passion sway In this vnciuill, and vniust extent Against thy peace. Go with me to my house, And heare thou there how many fruitlesse prankes This Ruffian hath botch'd vp, that thou thereby Mayst smile at this: Thou shalt not choose but goe: Do not denie, beshrew his soule for mee, He started one poore heart of mine, in thee.
What rellish is in this? How runs the streame? Or I am mad, or else this is a dreame: Let fancie still my sense in Lethe steepe, If it be thus to dreame, still let me sleepe.
Nay come I prethee, would thoud'st be rul'd by me
Madam, I will.
O say so, and so be.
Exeunt
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Maria and Clowne.
Nay, I prethee put on this gown, & this beard, make him beleeue thou art sir
Topas
the Curate, doe it quickly. Ile call sir
Toby
the whilst.
Well, Ile put it on, and I will dissemble my selfe in't, and I would I were the first that euer dissembled in in such a gowne. I am not tall enough to become the function well, nor leane enough to bee thought a good Studient: but to be said an honest man and a good hous- keeper goes as fairely, as to say, a carefull man, & a great scholler. The Competitors enter.
Enter Toby.
Ioue blesse thee M[aster]. Parson.
Bonos dies
sir
Toby:
for as the old hermit of
Prage
that neuer saw pen and inke, very wittily sayd to a Neece of King
Gorbodacke,
that that is,
is
: so I being M[aster]. Parson, am M[aster]. Parson; for what is that, but
that
? and is, but
is
?
To him sir
Topas.
What hoa, I say, Peace in this prison.
The knaue counterfets well: a good knaue.
Maluolio within.
Who cals there?
Sir
Topas
the Curate, who comes to visit
Maluo-lio
the Lunaticke.
Sir
Topas,
sir
Topas,
good sir
Topas
goe to my Ladie.
Out hyperbolicall fiend, how vexest thou this man? Talkest thou nothing but of Ladies?
Well said M[aster]. Parson.
Sir
Topas,
neuer was man thus wronged, good sir
Topas
do not thinke I am mad: they haue layde mee heere in hideous darknesse.
Fye, thou dishonest sathan: I call thee by the most modest termes, for I am one of those gentle ones, that will vse the diuell himselfe with curtesie: sayst thou that house is darke?
As
hell
sir
Topas.
Why it hath bay Windowes transparant as bari- cadoes, and the cleere stores toward the South north, are as lustrous as Ebony: and yet complainest thou of ob- struction?
I am not mad sir
Topas,
I say to you this house is darke.
Madman thou errest: I say there is no darknesse but ignorance, in which thou art more puzel'd then the Aegyptians in their fogge.
I say this house is as darke as Ignorance, thogh Ignorance were as darke as
hell
; and I say there was ne- uer man thus abus'd, I am no more madde then you are, make the triall of it in any constant question.
What is the opinion of
Pythagoras
concerning Wilde-fowle?
That the soule of our grandam, might happily inhabite a bird.
What thinkst thou of his opinion?
I thinke nobly of the soule, and no way aproue his opinion.
Fare thee well: remaine thou still in darkenesse, thou shalt hold th' opinion of
Pythagoras,
ere I will allow of thy wits, and feare to kill a Woodcocke, lest thou dis- possesse the soule of thy grandam. Fare thee well.
Sir
Topas,
sir
Topas.
My most exquisite sir
Topas.
Nay I am for all waters.
Thou mightst haue done this without thy berd and gowne, he sees thee not.
To him in thine owne voyce, and bring me word how thou findst him: I would we were well ridde of this knauery. If he may bee conueniently deliuer'd, I would he were, for I am now so farre in offence with my Niece, that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport the vppe- shot. Come
by
and by to my Chamber.
Exit
Hey Robin, iolly Robin, tell me how thy Lady does.
Foole.
My Lady is vnkind,
perdie.
Foole.
Alas why is she so?
Foole, I say.
She loues another. Who calles, ha?
Good foole, as euer thou wilt deserue well at my hand, helpe me to a Candle, and pen, inke, and paper: as I am a Gentleman, I will liue to bee thankefull to thee for't.
M[aster].
Maluolio
?
I
good Foole.
Alas sir, how fell you besides your fiue witts?
Foole, there was neuer man so notoriouslie a-bus'd: I am as well in my wits (foole) as thou art.
But as well: then you are mad indeede, if you be no better in your wits then a foole.
They haue heere propertied me: keepe mee in darkenesse, send Ministers to me, Asses, and doe all they can to face me out of my wits.
Aduise you what you say: the Minister is heere.
Maluolio, Maluolio,
thy wittes the heauens restore: en- deauour thy selfe to sleepe, and leaue thy vaine bibble babble.
Sir
Topas.
Maintaine no words with him good fellow. Who I sir, not I sir. God buy you good sir Topas: Mar- ry Amen. I will sir, I will.
Foole, foole, foole I say.
Alas sir be patient. What say you sir, I am shent for speaking to you.
Good foole, helpe me to some light, and some paper, I tell thee I am as well in my wittes, as any man in Illyria.
Well-a-day, that you were sir.
By this hand I am: good foole, some inke, pa- per, and light: and conuey what I will set downe to my Lady: it shall aduantage thee more, then euer the bea- ring of Letter did.
I will help you too't. But tel me true, are you not mad indeed, or do you but counterfeit.
Beleeue me I am not, I tell thee true.
Nay, Ile nere beleeue a madman till I see his brains I will fetch you light, and paper, and inke.
Foole, Ile requite it in the highest degree: I prethee be gone.
I am gone sir, and anon sir, Ile be with you againe: In a trice, like to the old vice, your neede to sustaine. Who with dagger of lath, in his rage and his wrath, cries ah ha, to the diuell: Like a mad lad, paire thy nayles dad, Adieu good man diuell.
Exit
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Sebastian.
This is the ayre, that is the glorious Sunne, This pearle she gaue me, I do feel't, and see't, And though tis wonder that enwraps me thus, Yet 'tis not madnesse. Where's
Anthonio
then, I could not finde him at the Elephant, Yet there he was, and there I found this credite, That he did range the towne to seeke me out, His councell now might do me golden seruice, For though my soule disputes well with my sence, That this may be some error, but no madnesse, Yet doth this accident and flood of Fortune, So farre exceed all instance, all discourse, That I am readie to distrust mine eyes, And wrangle with my reason that perswades me To any other trust, but that I am mad, Or else the Ladies mad; yet if 'twere so, She could not sway her house, command her followers, Take, and giue backe affayres, and their dispatch, With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing As I perceiue she do's: there's something in't That is deceiueable. But heere the Lady comes.
Enter Oliuia, and Priest.
Blame not this haste of mine: if you meane well Now go with me, and with this holy man Into the Chantry by: there before him, And vnderneath that consecrated roofe, Plight me the full assurance of your faith, That my most iealious, and too doubtfull soule May liue at peace. He shall conceale it, Whiles you are willing it shall come to note, What time we will our celebration keepe According to my birth, what do you say?
Ile follow this good man, and go with you, And hauing sworne truth, euer will be true.
Then lead the way good father, & heauens so shine, That they may fairely note this acte of mine.
Exeunt.
Finis Actus Quartus.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Clowne and Fabian.
Now as thou lou'st me, let me see his Letter.
Good M[aster].
Fabian,
grant me another request.
Any thing.
Do not desire to see this Letter.
This is to giue a dogge, and in recompence desire my dogge againe.
Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and Lords.
Belong you to the Lady
Oliuia,
friends?
I
sir, we are some of her trappings.
I know thee well: how doest thou my good Fellow?
Truely sir, the better for my foes, and the worse for my friends.
Iust the contrary: the better for thy friends.
No sir, the worse.
How can that be?
Marry sir, they praise me, and make an asse of me, now my foes tell me plainly, I am an Asse: so that by my foes sir, I profit in the knowledge of my selfe, and by my friends I am abused: so that conclusions to be as kisses, if your foure negatiues make your two affirmatiues, why then the worse for my friends, and the better for my foes.
Why this is excellent.
By my troth sir, no: though it please you to be one of my friends.
Thou shalt not be the worse for me, there's gold.
But that it would be double dealing sir, I would you could make it another.
O you giue me
ill
counsell.
Put your grace in your pocket sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it.
Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double dealer: there's another.
Primo, secundo, tertio,
is a good play, and the olde saying is, the third payes for all: the triplex sir, is a good tripping measure, or the belles of S[aint].
Bennet
sir, may put you in minde, one, two, three.
You can foole no more money out of mee at this throw: if you will let your Lady know I am here to speak with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my bounty further.
Marry sir, lullaby to your bountie till I come a- gen. I go sir, but I would not haue you to thinke, that my desire of hauing is the sinne of couetousnesse: but as you say sir, let your bounty take a nappe, I will awake it anon.
Exit
Enter Anthonio and Officers.
Here comes the man sir, that did rescue mee.
That face of his I do remember well, Yet when I saw it last, it was besmear'd As blacke as Vulcan, in the smoake of warre: A bawbling Vessell was he Captaine of, For shallow draught and bulke vnprizable, With which such scathfull grapple did he make, With the most noble bottome of our Fleete, That very enuy, and the tongue of losse Cride fame and honor on him: What's the matter?
Orsino,
this is that
Anthonio
That tooke the
Phoenix,
and her fraught from
Candy,
And this is he that did the
Tiger
boord, When your yong Nephew
Titus
lost his legge; Heere in the streets, desperate of shame and state, In priuate brabble did we apprehend him.
He did me kindnesse sir, drew on my side, But in conclusion put strange speech vpon me, I know not what 'twas, but distraction.
Notable Pyrate, thou salt-water Theefe, What foolish boldnesse brought thee to their mercies, Whom thou in termes so bloudie, and so deere Hast made thine enemies?
Orsino:
Noble sir, Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you giue mee:
Anthonio
neuer yet was Theefe, or Pyrate, Though I confesse, on base and ground enough
Orsino's
enemie. A witchcraft drew me hither: That most ingratefull boy there by your side, From the rude seas enrag'd and foamy mouth Did I redeeme: a wracke past hope he was: His life I gaue him, and did thereto adde My loue without retention, or restraint, All his in dedication. For his sake, Did I expose my selfe (pure for his loue) Into the danger of this aduerse Towne, Drew to defend him, when he was beset: Where being apprehended, his false cunning (Not meaning to partake with me in danger) Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance, And grew a twentie yeeres remoued thing While one would winke: denide me mine owne purse, Which I had recommended to his vse, Not halfe an houre before.
How can this be?
When came he to this Towne?
To day my Lord: and for three months before, No
intrim,
not a minutes vacancie, Both day and night did we keepe companie.
Enter Oliuia and attendants.
Heere comes the Countesse, now heauen walkes on earth: But for thee fellow, fellow thy words are madnesse, Three monthes this youth hath tended vpon mee, But more of that anon. Take him aside.
What would my Lord, but that he may not haue, Wherein
Oliuia
may seeme seruiceable?
Cesario,
you do not keepe promise with me.
Madam:
Gracious
Oliuia.
What do you say
Cesario
? Good my Lord.
My Lord would speake, my dutie hushes me.
If it be ought to the old tune my Lord, It is as fat and fulsome to mine eare As howling after Musicke.
Still so cruell?
Still so constant Lord.
What to peruersenesse? you vnciuill Ladie To whose ingrate, and vnauspicious Altars My soule the faithfull'st offrings haue breath'd out That ere deuotion tender'd. What shall I do?
Euen what it please my Lord, that shal becom him
Why should I not, (had I the heart to do it) Like to th' Egyptian theefe, at point of death Kill what I loue: (a sauage iealousie, That sometime sauours nobly) but heare me this: Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, And that I partly know the instrument That screwes me from my true place in your fauour: Liue you the Marble-brested Tirant still. But this your Minion, whom I know you loue, And whom, by heauen I sweare, I tender deerely, Him will I teare out of that cruell eye, Where he sits crowned in his masters spight. Come boy with me, my thoughts are ripe in mischiefe: Ile sacrifice the Lambe that I do loue, To spight a Rauens heart within a Doue.
And I most iocund, apt, and willinglie, To do you rest, a thousand deaths would dye.
Where goes
Cesario
?
After him I loue, More then I loue these eyes, more then my life, More by all mores, then ere I shall loue wife. If I do feigne, you witnesses aboue Punish my life, for tainting of my loue.
Aye me detested, how am I beguil'd?
Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong?
Hast thou forgot thy selfe? Is it so long? Call forth the holy Father.
Come, away.
Whether my Lord?
Cesario,
Husband, stay.
Husband?
I
Husband. Can he that deny?
Her husband, sirrah?
No my Lord, not I.
Alas, it is the basenesse of thy feare, That makes thee strangle thy propriety: Feare not
Cesario,
take thy fortunes vp, Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art As great as that thou fear'st.
Enter Priest.
O welcome Father: Father, I charge thee by thy reuerence Heere to vnfold, though lately we intended To keepe in darkenesse, what occasion now Reueales before 'tis ripe: what thou dost know Hath newly past, betweene this youth, and me.
A Contract of eternall bond of loue, Confirm'd by mutuall ioynder of your hands, Attested by the holy close of lippes, Strengthned by enterchangement of your rings, And all the Ceremonie of this compact Seal'd in my function, by my testimony: Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my graue I haue trauail'd but two houres.
O thou dissembling Cub: what wilt thou be When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case? Or will not else thy craft so quickely grow, That thine owne trip shall be thine ouerthrow: Farewell, and take her, but direct thy feete, Where thou, and I (henceforth) may neuer meet.
My Lord, I do protest.
O do not sweare, Hold little faith, though thou hast too much feare.
Enter Sir Andrew.
For the loue of God a Surgeon, send one pre- sently to sir
Toby.
What's the matter?
H
'as broke my head a-crosse, and has giuen Sir
a bloody Coxcombe too: for the loue of God your helpe, I had rather then forty pound I were at home.
Who has done this sir
Andrew
?
The Counts Gentleman, one
Cesario:
we tooke him for a Coward, but hee's the verie diuell, incardinate.
My Gentleman
Cesario
?
Odd's lifelings heere he is: you broke my head for nothing, and that that I did, I was set on to do't by sir
Toby.
Why do you speake to me, I neuer hurt you: You drew your sword vpon me without cause, But I bespake you faire, and hurt you not.
Enter Toby and Clowne.
If a bloody coxcombe be a hurt, you haue hurt me: I thinke you set nothing by a bloody Coxecombe. Heere comes sir
Toby
halting, you shall heare more: but if he had not beene in drinke, hee would haue tickel'd you other gates then he did.
How now Gentleman? how ist with you?
That's all one,
has
hurt me, and there's th' end on't: Sot, didst see Dicke Surgeon, sot?
O he's drunke sir
Toby
an houre agone: his eyes were set at eight i'th morning.
Then he's a Rogue, and a passy measures pauyn: I hate a drunken rogue.
Away with him? Who hath made this hauocke with them?
Ile helpe you sir
Toby,
because
we
'll be drest to- gether.
Will you helpe an Asse-head, and a coxcombe, & a knaue: a thin fac'd knaue, a gull?
Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd
too
.
Enter Sebastian.
I am sorry Madam I haue hurt your kinsman: But had it beene the brother of my blood, I must haue done no lesse with wit and safety. You throw a strange regard vpon me, and by that I do perceiue it hath offended you: Pardon me (sweet one) euen for the vowes We made each other, but so late ago.
One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons, A naturall Perspectiue, that is, and is not.
Anthonio:
O my deere
Anthonio,
How haue the houres rack'd, and tortur'd me, Since I haue lost thee?
Sebastian
are you?
Fear'st thou that
Anthonio
?
How haue you made diuision of your selfe, An apple cleft in two, is not more twin Then these two creatures. Which is
Sebastian
?
Most wonderfull.
Do I stand there? I neuer had a brother: Nor can there be that Deity in my nature Of heere, and euery where. I had a sister, Whom the blinde waues and surges haue deuour'd: Of charity, what kinne are you to me? What Countreyman? What name? What Parentage?
Of
Messaline: Sebastian
was my Father, Such a
Sebastian
was my brother too: So went he suited to his watery tombe: If spirits can assume both forme and suite, You come to fright vs.
A spirit I am indeed, But am in that dimension grossely clad, Which from the wombe I did participate. Were you a woman, as the rest goes euen, I should my teares let fall vpon your cheeke, And say, thrice welcome drowned
Viola.
My father had a moale vpon his brow.
And so had mine.
And dide that day when
Viola
from her birth Had numbred thirteene yeares.
O that record is liuely in my soule, He finished indeed his mortall acte That day that made my sister thirteene yeares.
If nothing lets to make vs happie both, But this my masculine vsurp'd attyre: Do not embrace me, till each circumstance, Of place, time, fortune, do co-here and iumpe That I am
Viola,
which to confirme, Ile bring you to a Captaine in this Towne, Where lye my maiden weeds: by whose gentle helpe, I was preseru'd to serue this Noble Count: All the occurrence of my fortune since Hath beene betweene this Lady, and this Lord.
So comes it Lady, you haue beene mistooke: But Nature to her bias drew in that. You would haue bin contracted to a Maid, Nor are you therein (by my life) deceiu'd, You are betroth'd both to a maid and man.
Be not amaz'd, right noble is his blood: If this be so, as yet the glasse seemes true, I shall haue share in this most happy wracke, Boy, thou hast saide to me a thousand times, Thou neuer should'st loue woman like to me.
And all those sayings, will I ouer sweare, And all those swearings keepe as true in soule, As doth that Orbed Continent, the fire, That seuers day from night.
Giue me thy hand, And let me see thee in thy womans weedes.
The Captaine that did bring me first on shore Hath my Maides garments: he vpon some Action Is now in durance, at
Maluolio's
suite, a Gentleman, and follower of my Ladies.
He shall inlarge him: fetch
Maluolio
hither, And yet alas, now I remember me, They say poore Gentleman, he's much distract.
Enter Clowne with a Letter, and Fabian.
A most extracting frensie of mine owne From my remembrance, clearly banisht his. How does he sirrah?
Truely Madam, he holds
Belzebub
at the staues end as well as a man in his case may do: has heere writ a letter to you, I should haue giuen't you to day morning. But as a madmans Epistles are no Gospels, so it skilles not much when they are deliuer'd.
Open't, and read it.
Looke then to be well edified, when the Foole deliuers the Madman.
By the Lord Madam.
How now, art thou mad?
No Madam, I do but reade madnesse:
and
your Ladyship will haue it as it ought to bee, you must allow
Vox.
Prethee reade i'thy right wits.
So I do Madona: but to reade his right wits, is to reade thus: therefore, perpend my Princesse, and giue eare.
Read it you, sirrah.
By the Lord Madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it: Though you haue put mee into darkenesse, and giuen your drunken Cosine rule ouer me, yet haue I the benefit of my senses as well as your Ladie- ship. I haue your owne letter, that induced mee to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not, but to do my selfe much right, or you much shame: thinke of me as you please. I leaue my duty a little vnthought of, and speake out of my iniury.
The madly vs'd Maluolio.
Did he write this?
I
Madame.
This sauours not much of distraction.
See him deliuer'd
Fabian,
bring him hither: My Lord, so please you, these things further thought on, To thinke me as well a sister, as a wife, One day shall crowne th' alliance on't, so please you, Heere at my house, and at my proper cost.
Madam, I am most apt t' embrace your offer: Your Master quits you: and for your seruice done him, So much against the mettle of your sex, So farre beneath your soft and tender breeding, And since you call'd me Master, for so long: Heere is my hand, you shall from this time bee Your Masters Mistris.
A sister, you are she.
Enter Maluolio.
Is this the Madman?
I
my Lord, this same: How now
Maluolio
?
Madam, you haue done me wrong, Notorious wrong.
Haue I
Maluolio
? No.
Lady you haue, pray you peruse that Letter. You must not now denie it is your hand, Write from it if you can, in hand, or phrase, Or say, tis not your seale, not your inuention: You can say none of this. Well, grant it then, And tell me in the modestie of honor, Why you haue giuen me such cleare lights of fauour, Bad me come smiling, and crosse-garter'd to you, To put on yellow stockings, and to frowne Vpon sir
Toby,
and the lighter people: And acting this in an obedient hope, Why haue you suffer'd me to be imprison'd, Kept in a darke house, visited by the Priest, And made the most notorious gecke and gull, That ere inuention plaid on? Tell me why?
Alas
Maluolio,
this is not my writing, Though I confesse much like the Charracter: But out of question, tis
Marias
hand. And now I do bethinke me, it was shee First told me thou wast mad; then cam'st in smiling, And in such formes, which heere were presuppos'd Vpon thee in the Letter: prethee be content, This practice hath most shrewdly past vpon thee: But when we know the grounds, and authors of it, Thou shalt be both the Plaintiffe and the Iudge Of thine owne cause.
Good Madam heare me speake, And let no quarrell, nor no braule to come, Taint the condition of this present houre, Which I haue wondred at. In hope it shall not, Most freely I confesse my selfe, and
Toby
Set this deuice against
Maluolio
heere, Vpon some stubborne and vncourteous parts We had conceiu'd against him.
Maria
writ The Letter, at sir
Tobyes
great importance, In recompence whereof, he hath married her: How with a sportfull malice it was follow'd, May rather plucke on laughter then reuenge, If that the iniuries be iustly weigh'd, That haue on both sides past.
Alas poore Foole, how haue they baffel'd thee?
Why some are borne great, some atchieue great- nesse,
and
some haue greatnesse throwne vpon them. I was one sir, in this Enterlude, one sir
Topas
sir, but that's all one: By the Lord Foole, I am not mad: but do you re- member, Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascall, and you smile not he's gag'd: and thus the whirlegigge of time, brings in his reuenges.
Ile be reueng'd on the whole packe of you?
He hath bene most notoriously abus'd.
Pursue him, and entreate him to a peace: He hath not told vs of the Captaine yet, When that is knowne, and golden time conuents A solemne Combination shall be made Of our deere soules. Meane time sweet sister, We will not part from hence.
Cesario
come (For so you shall be while you are a man:) But when in other habites you are seene,
Orsino's
Mistris, and his fancies Queene.
Exeunt
.
When that I was
and
a little tine boy, with hey, ho, the winde and the raine: A foolish thing was but a toy, for the raine it raineth euery day. But when I came to mans estate, with hey ho, &c. Gainst Knaues and Theeues men shut their gate, for the raine, &c. But when I came alas to wiue, with hey ho, &c. By swaggering could I neuer thriue, for the raine, &c. But when I came vnto my beds, with hey ho, &c. With tospottes still had drunken heades, for the raine, &c. A great while ago the world begon, hey ho, &c. But that's all one, our Play is done, and wee'l striue to please you euery day.
ecke out o'th Collar.
I strike quickly, being mou'd.
But thou art not quickly mou'd to strike.
A dog of the house of
Mountague,
moues me.
To moue, is to stir: and to be valiant, is to stand: Therefore, if thou art mou'd, thou runst away.
A dogge of that house shall moue me to stand. I will take the wall of any Man or Maid of
Mountagues.
That shewes thee a weake slaue, for the wea- kest goes to the wall.
True, and therefore women being the weaker Vessels, are euer thrust to the wall: therefore I will push
Mountagues
men from the wall, and thrust his Maides to the wall.
The Quarrell is betweene our Masters, and vs
their men.
'Tis all one, I will shew my selfe a tyrant: when I haue fought with the men, I will bee ciuill with the Maids, and cut off their heads.
The heads of the Maids?
I
, the heads of the Maids, or their Maiden-heads, Take it in what sence thou wilt.
They must take
it
sence, that feele it.
Me they shall feele while I am able to stand: And 'tis knowne I am a pretty peece of flesh.
'Tis well thou art not Fish: If thou had'st, thou had'st beene poore Iohn. Draw thy Toole, here comes of the House of the
Mountagues.
Enter two other Seruingmen.
My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I wil back thee
How? Turne thy backe, and run.
Feare me not.
No marry: I feare thee.
Let vs take the Law of our sides: let them begin.
I wil frown as I passe by, & let the[m] take it as they list
Nay, as they dare. I wil bite my Thumb at them, which is a disgrace to them, if they beare it.
Do you bite your Thumbe at vs sir?
I do bite my Thumbe, sir.
Do you bite your Thumb at vs, sir?
Is the Law of our side, if I say
I
?
No.
No sir, I do not bite my Thumbe at you sir: but I bite my Thumbe sir.
Do you quarrell sir?
Quarrell sir? no sir.
If you do sir, I am for you, I serue as good a man
as you
No better?
Well sir.
Enter Benuolio.
Say better: here comes one of my masters kinsmen.
Yes, better.
You Lye.
Draw if you be men.
Gregory,
remember thy washing blow.
They Fight.
Part Fooles, put vp your Swords, you know not what you do.
Enter Tibalt.
What art thou drawne, among these heartlesse Hindes? Turne thee
Benuolio,
looke vpon thy death.
I do but keepe the peace, put vp thy Sword, Or manage it to part these men with me.
What draw, and talke of peace? I hate the word As I hate
hell
, all
Mountagues,
and thee: Haue at thee Coward.
Fight.
Enter three or foure Citizens with Clubs.
Clubs, Bils, and Partisons, strike, beat them down Downe with the
Capulets,
downe with the
Mountagues.
Enter old Capulet in his Gowne, and his wife.
What noise is this? Giue me my long Sword ho.
A crutch, a crutch: why call you for a Sword?
My Sword I say: Old
Mountague
is come, And flourishes his Blade in spight of me.
Enter old Mountague, & his wife.
Thou villaine
Capulet.
Hold me not, let me go
Thou shalt not stir
a
foote to seeke a Foe.
Enter Prince Eskales, with his Traine.
Rebellious Subiects, Enemies to peace, Prophaners of this Neighbor-stained Steele, Will they not heare? What hoe, you Men, you Beasts, That quench the fire of your pernitious Rage, With purple Fountaines issuing from your Veines: On paine of Torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mistemper'd Weapons to the ground, And heare the Sentence of your mooued Prince. Three ciuill Broyles, bred of an Ayery word, By thee old
Capulet
and
Mountague,
Haue thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets, And made
Verona's
ancient Citizens Cast by their Graue beseeming Ornaments, To wield old Partizans, in hands as old,
Cankred with peace, to part your Cankred hate, If euer you disturbe our streets againe, Your liues shall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time all the rest depart away: You
Capulet
shall goe along with me, And
Mountague
come you this afternoone, To know our Fathers pleasure in this case: To old Free-towne, our common iudgement place: Once more on paine of death, all men depart.
Exeunt.
Who set this auncient quarrell new abroach? Speake Nephew, were you by, when it began:
Heere were the seruants of your aduersarie, And yours close fighting ere I did approach, I drew to part them, in the instant came The fiery
Tibalt,
with his sword prepar'd, Which as he breath'd defiance to my eares, He swong about his head, and cut the windes, Who nothing hurt withall, hist him in scorne. While we were enterchanging thrusts and blowes, Came more and more, and fought on part and part, Till the Prince came, who parted either part.
O where is
Romeo,
saw you him to day? Right glad am I, he was not at this fray.
Madam, an houre before the worshipt Sun Peer'd forth the golden window of the East, A troubled mind draue me to walke abroad, Where vnderneath the groue of Sycamour, That West-ward rooteth from this City side: So earely walking did I see your Sonne: Towards him I made, but he was ware of me, And stole into the couert of the wood, I measuring his affections by my owne, Which then most sought, wher most might not be found: Being one too many by my weary selfe, Pursued my Honour, not pursuing his And gladly shunn'd, who gladly fled from me.
Many a morning hath he there beene seene, With teares augmenting the fresh mornings deaw, Adding to cloudes, more cloudes with his deepe sighes, But all so soone as the all-cheering Sunne, Should in the farthest East begin to draw The shadie Curtaines from
Auroras
bed, Away from light steales home my heauy Sonne, And priuate in his Chamber pennes himselfe, Shuts vp his windowes, lockes faire day-light out, And makes himselfe an artificiall night: Blacke and portendous must this humour proue, Vnlesse good counsell may the cause remoue.
My Noble Vncle doe you know the cause?
I neither know it, nor can learne of him.
Haue you importun'd him by any meanes?
Both by my selfe and many other Friends, But he his owne affections counseller, Is to himselfe (I will not say how true) But to himselfe so secret and so close, So farre from sounding and discouery, As is the bud bit with an enuious worme, Ere he can spread his sweete leaues to the ayre, Or dedicate his beauty to the same. Could we but learne from whence his sorrowes grow, We would as willingly giue cure, as know.
Enter Romeo.
See where he comes, so please you step aside, Ile know his greeuance, or be much denide.
I would thou wert so happy by thy stay, To heare true shrift. Come Madam let's away.
Exeunt.
Good morrow Cousin.
Is the day so young?
But new strooke nine.
Aye me, sad houres seeme long: Was that my Father that went hence so fast?
It was: what sadnes lengthens
Romeo's
houres?
Not hauing that, which hauing, makes them short
In loue.
Out.
Of loue.
Out of her fauour where I am in loue.
Alas that loue so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proofe.
Alas that loue, whose view is muffled still, Should without eyes, see path-wayes to his
will
: Where shall we dine? O me: what fray was heere? Yet tell me not, for I haue heard it all: Heere's much to do with hate, but more with loue: Why then, O brawling loue, O louing hate, O any thing, of nothing first created: O heauie lightnesse, serious vanity, Mishapen Chaos of welseeming formes, Feather of lead, bright smoake, cold fire, sicke health, Still waking sleepe, that is not what it is: This loue feele I, that feele no loue in this. Doest thou not laugh?
No Coze, I rather weepe.
Good heart, at what?
At thy good hearts oppression.
Why such is loues transgression. Griefes of mine owne lie heauie in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate to haue it preast With more of thine, this loue that thou hast showne, Doth adde more griefe, to too much of mine owne. Loue, is a smoake made with the fume of sighes, Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in Louers eyes, Being vext, a Sea nourisht with louing teares, What is it else? a madnesse, most discreet, A choking gall, and a preseruing sweet: Farewell my Coze.
Soft I will goe along.
And
if you leaue me so, you do me wrong.
Tut I haue lost my selfe, I am not here, This is not
Romeo,
hee's some other where.
Tell me in sadnesse, who is that you loue?
What shall I grone and tell thee?
Grone, why no: but sadly tell me who.
A sicke man in sadnesse makes his
will
: A word
ill
vrg'd to one that is so
ill
: In sadnesse Cozin, I do loue a woman.
I aym'd so neare, when I suppos'd you lou'd.
A right good marke man, and shee's faire I loue
A right faire marke, faire Coze, is soonest hit.
Well in that hit you misse, sheel not be hit With Cupids arrow, she hath
Dians
wit: And in strong proofe of chastity well arm'd: From loues weake childish Bow, she liues vncharm'd. Shee will not stay the siege of louing tearmes, Nor bid th' encounter of assailing eyes. Nor open her lap to Sainct-seducing Gold: O she is rich in beautie, onely poore, That when she dies, with beautie dies her store.
Then she hath sworne, that she will still liue chast?
She hath, and in that sparing make huge
wast
? For beauty steru'd with her seuerity, Cuts beauty off from all posteritie. She is too faire, too wise: wisely too faire, To merit blisse by making me dispaire: She hath forsworne to loue, and in that vow Do I liue dead, that liue to tell it now.
Be rul'd by me, forget to thinke of her.
O teach me how I should forget to thinke.
By giuing liberty vnto thine eyes, Examine other beauties,
'Tis the way to cal hers (exquisit) in question more, These happy maskes that kisse faire Ladies browes, Being blacke, puts vs in mind they hide the faire: He that is strooken blind, cannot forget The precious treasure of his eye-sight lost: Shew me a Mistresse that is passing faire, What doth her beauty serue but as a note, Where I may read who past that passing faire. Farewell thou can'st not teach me to forget,
Ile pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.
Exeunt
Enter Capulet, Countie Paris, and the Clowne.
Mountague
is bound as well as I, In penalty alike, and 'tis not hard I thinke, For men so old as wee, to keepe the peace.
Of Honourable reckoning are you both, And pittie 'tis you liu'd at ods so long: But now my Lord, what say you to my sute?
But saying ore what I haue said before, My Child is yet a stranger in the world, Shee hath not seene the change of fourteene yeares, Let two more Summers wither in their pride, Ere we may thinke her ripe to be a Bride.
Younger then she, are happy mothers made.
And too soone mar'd are those so early made: Earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she, Shee's the hopefull Lady of my earth: But wooe her gentle
Paris,
get her heart, My
will
to her consent, is but a part,
And
shee agree, within her scope of choise, Lyes my consent, and faire according voice: This night I hold an old accustom'd Feast, Whereto I haue inuited many a Guest, Such as I loue, and you among the store, One more, most welcome makes my number more: At my poore house, looke to behold this night, Earth-treading starres, that make darke heauen light, Such comfort as do lusty young men feele, When well apparrel'd Aprill on the
heele
Of limping Winter treads, euen such delight Among fresh Fennell buds shall you this night Inherit at my house: heare all, all see: And like her most, whose merit most shall be: Which one more veiw, of many, mine being one, May stand in number, though in reckning none. Come, goe with me: goe sirrah trudge about, Through faire
Verona,
find those persons out, Whose names are written there, and to them say, My house and welcome, on their pleasure stay.
Exit.
Find them out whose names are written. Heere it is written, that the Shoo-maker should meddle with his Yard, and the Tayler with his Last, the Fisher with his Pensill, and the Painter with his Nets. But I am sent to find those persons whose names are writ, & can neuer find what names the writing person hath here writ (I must to the learned) in good time.
Enter Benuolio, and Romeo.
Tut man, one fire burnes out anothers burning, One paine is lesned by anothers anguish: Turne giddie, and be holpe by backward turning: One desparate greefe, cures with anothers languish: Take thou some new infection to the eye, And the rank poyson of the old wil die.
Your Plantan leafe is excellent for that.
For what I pray thee?
For your broken shin.
Why
Romeo
art thou mad?
Not mad, but bound more then a mad man is: Shut vp in prison, kept without my foode, Whipt and tormented: and Godden good fellow,
Godgigoden, I pray sir can you read?
I
mine owne fortune in my miserie.
Perhaps you haue learn'd it without booke: But I pray can you read any thing you see?
I
, if I know the Letters and the Language.
Ye say honestly, rest you merry.
Stay fellow, I can read.
He reades the Letter.
Seigneur Martino, and his wife and daughter: County An-selme
and his beautious sisters: the Lady widdow of Vtru-uio,
Seigneur Placentio, and his louely Neeces: Mercutio and
his brother Valentine: mine vncle Capulet his wife and daugh-ters:
my faire Neece Rosaline, Liuia, Seigneur Valentio, & his Cosen Tybalt: Lucio and the liuely Helena.
A faire assembly, whither should they come?
Vp.
Whither? to supper?
To our house.
Whose house?
My Maisters.
Indeed I should haue askt you that before.
Now Ile tell you without asking. My maister is the great rich
Capulet,
and if you be not of the house of
Mountagues
I pray come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry.
Exit.
At this same auncient Feast of
Capulets
Sups the faire
Rosaline,
whom thou so loues: With all the admired Beauties of
Verona,
Go thither and with vnattainted eye, Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee thinke thy Swan a Crow.
When the deuout religion of mine eye Maintaines such falshood, then turne teares to fire: And these who often drown'd could neuer die, Transparent Heretiques be burnt for liers. One fairer then my loue: the all-seeing Sun Nere saw her match, since first the world begun.
Tut, you saw her faire, none else being by, Herselfe poys'd with herselfe in either eye: But in that Christall scales, let there be waid, Your Ladies loue against some other Maid That I will show you, shining at this Feast,
And
she shew scant
shell
, well, that now shewes best.
Ile goe along, no such sight to be showne, But to reioyce in splendor of mine owne.
Enter Capulets Wife and Nurse.
Nurse wher's my daughter? call her forth to me.
Now by my Maidenhead, at twelue yeare old I bad her come, what Lamb: what Ladi-bird, God forbid, Where's this Girle? what
Iuliet
?
Enter Iuliet.
How now, who calls?
Your Mother.
Madam I am heere, what is your
will
?
This is the matter: Nurse giue me leaue awhile, we must talke in secret. Nurse come backe againe, I haue re- membred me, thou'se heare our counsell. Thou knowest my daughter's of a prety age.
Faith I can tell her age vnto an houre.
Shee's not fourteene.
Ile lay fourteene of my teeth, And yet to my teene be it spoken, I haue but foure, shee's not fourteene. How long is it now to
Lammas
tide?
A fortnight and odde dayes.
Euen or odde, of all daies in the yeare come
Lammas
Eue at night shall she be fourteene.
Susan
& she, God rest all Christian soules, were of an age. Well
Susan
is with God, she was too good for me. But as I said, on
La-mas
Eue at night shall she be fourteene, that shall she ma- rie, I remember it well. 'Tis since the Earth-quake now eleuen yeares, and she was wean'd I neuer shall forget it, of all the daies of the yeare, vpon that day: for I had then laid Worme-wood to my Dug sitting in the Sunne vnder the Douehouse wall, my Lord and you were then at
Mantua,
nay I doe beare a braine. But as I said, when it did tast the Worme-wood on the nipple of my Dugge, and felt it bitter, pretty foole, to see it teachie, and fall out with the Dugge, Shake quoth the Doue-house, 'twas no neede I trow to bid mee trudge, and since that time it is a eleuen yeares, for then she could stand alone, nay bi'th' roode she could haue runne, & wadled all about: for euen the day before she broke her brow, & then my Husband God be with his soule,
a
was a merrie man, tooke vp the Child, yea quoth hee, doest thou fall vpon thy face? thou wilt fall backeward when thou hast more wit, wilt thou not
Iule
? And by my holy-dam, the pretty wretch lefte crying, & said
I
: to see now how a Iest shall come about. I warrant, & I shall liue a thousand yeares, I neuer should forget it: wilt thou not
Iule
quoth he? and pretty foole it stinted, and said
I
.
Inough of this, I pray thee hold thy peace.
Yes Madam, yet I cannot chuse but laugh, to thinke it should leaue crying, & say
I
: and yet I warrant it had vpon
it
brow, a bumpe as big as a young Cockrels stone? A perilous knock, and it cryed bitterly. Yea quoth my husband, fall'st vpon thy face, thou wilt fall back- ward when thou commest to age: wilt thou not
Iule
? It stinted: and said
I
.
And stint thou too, I pray thee
Nurse,
say I.
Peace I haue done: God marke thee
too
his grace thou wast the prettiest Babe that ere I nurst,
and
I might liue to see thee married once, I haue my wish.
Marry that marry is the very theame I came to talke of, tell me daughter
Iuliet,
How stands your disposition to be Married?
It is an houre that I dreame not of.
An houre, were I not thine onely Nurse, I would say thou had'st suckt wisedome from thy teat.
Well thinke of marriage now, yonger then you Heere in
Verona,
Ladies of esteeme, Are made already Mothers. By my count I was your Mother, much vpon these yeares That you are now a Maide, thus then in briefe: The valiant
Paris
seekes you for his loue.
A man young Lady, Lady, such a man as all the world. Why hee's a man of waxe.
Veronas
Summer hath not such a flower.
Nay hee's a flower, infaith a very flower.
What say you, can you loue the Gentleman? This night you shall behold him at our Feast, Read ore the volume of young
Paris
face, And find delight, writ there with Beauties pen: Examine euery seuerall liniament, And see how one another lends content: And what obscur'd in this faire volume lies, Find written in the Margent of his eyes. This precious Booke of Loue, this vnbound Louer, To Beautifie him, onely lacks a Couer. The fish liues in the Sea, and 'tis much pride For faire without, the faire within to hide: That Booke in manies eyes doth share the glorie, That in Gold claspes, Lockes in the Golden storie: So shall you share all that he doth possesse, By hauing him, making your selfe no lesse.
No lesse, nay bigger: women grow by men.
Speake briefly, can you like of
Paris
loue?
Ile looke to like, if looking liking moue. But no more deepe will I endart mine eye, Then your consent giues strength to make flye.
Enter a Seruing man.
Madam, the guests are come, supper seru'd vp, you cal'd, my young Lady askt for, the Nurse cur'st in the Pan- tery, and euery thing in extremitie: I must hence to wait, I beseech you follow straight.
Exit.
We follow thee,
Iuliet,
the Countie staies.
Goe Gyrle, seeke happie nights to happy daies.
Exeunt.
Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benuolio, with fiue or sixe other Maskers, Torch-bearers.
What shall this spech be spoke for our excuse? Or shall we on without Apologie?
The date is out of such prolixitie, Weele haue no
Cupid,
hood winkt with a skarfe, Bearing a Tartars painted Bow of lath, Skaring the Ladies like a Crow-keeper. But let them measure vs by what they will, Weele measure them with a Measure, and be gone.
Giue me a Torch, I am not for this ambling. Being but heauy I will beare the light.
Nay gentle
Romeo,
we must haue you dance.
Not I beleeue me, you haue dancing shooes With nimble soles, I haue a soale of Lead So stakes me to the ground, I cannot moue.
You are a Louer, borrow
Cupids
wings, And soare with them aboue a common bound.
I am too sore enpearced with his shaft, To soare with his light feathers, and to bound: I cannot bound a pitch aboue dull woe, Vnder loues heauy burthen doe I sinke.
And to sinke in it should you burthen loue, Too great oppression for a tender thing.
Is loue a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too boysterous, and it pricks like thorne.
If loue be rough with you, be rough with loue, Pricke loue for pricking, and you beat loue downe, Giue me a Case to put my visage in, A Visor for a Visor, what care I What curious eye doth quote deformities: Here are the Beetle-browes shall blush for me.
Come knocke and enter, and no sooner in, But euery man betake him to his legs.
A Torch for me, let wantons light of heart Tickle the sencelesse rushes with their heeles: For I am prouerb'd with a Grandsier Phrase, Ile be a Candle-holder and looke on, The game was nere so faire, and I am done.
Tut, duns the Mouse, the Constables owne word, If thou art dun, weele draw thee from the mire. Or saue your reuerence loue, wherein thou stickest Vp to the eares, come we burne day-light ho.
Nay that's not so.
I meane sir I delay, We
wast
our lights in vaine, lights, lights, by day; Take our good meaning, for our Iudgement sits Fiue times in that, ere once in our fiue wits.
And we meane well in going to this Maske, But 'tis no wit to go.
Why may one aske?
I dreampt a dreame to night.
And so did I.
Well what was yours?
That dreamers often lye.
In bed
a
sleepe while they do dreame things true.
O then I see Queene Mab hath beene with you: She is the Fairies Midwife, & she comes in shape no big- ger then Agat-stone, on the fore-finger of an Alderman, drawne with a teeme of little Atomies, ouer mens noses as they lie asleepe: her Waggon Spokes made of long Spin- ners legs: the Couer of the wings of Grashoppers, her Traces of the smallest Spiders web, her coullers of the Moonshines watry Beames, her Whip of Crickets bone, the Lash of Philome, her Waggoner, a small gray-coated Gnat, not halfe so bigge as a round little Worme, prickt from the Lazie-finger of a man. Her Chariot is an emptie Haselnut, made by the Ioyner Squirrel or old Grub, time out
a
mind, the Faries Coach-makers: & in this state she gallops night by night, through Louers braines: and then they dreame of Loue. On Courtiers knees, that dreame on Cursies strait: ore Lawyers fingers, who strait dreampt on Fees, ore Ladies lips, who strait on kisses dreame, which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, because their breath with Sweet meats tainted are. Sometime she gal- lops ore a Courtiers nose, & then dreames he of smelling out a sute: & somtime comes she with Tith pigs tale, tick- ling a Parsons nose as
a
lies asleepe, then he dreames of another Benefice. Sometime she driueth ore a Souldiers necke, & then dreames he of cutting Forraine throats, of Breaches, Ambuscados, Spanish Blades: Of Healths fiue Fadome deepe, and then anon drums in his eares, at which he startes and wakes; and being thus frighted, sweares a prayer or two & sleepes againe: this is that very Mab that plats the manes of Horses in the night: & bakes the Elk- locks in foule sluttish haires, which once vntangled, much misfortune bodes, This is the hag, when Maides lie on their backs, That presses them, and learnes them first to beare, Making them women of good carriage: This is she.
Peace, peace,
Mercutio
peace, Thou talk'st of nothing.
True, I talke of dreames: Which are the children of an idle braine, Begot of nothing, but vaine phantasie, Which is as thin of substance as the ayre, And more inconstant then the wind, who wooes Euen now the frozen bosome of the North: And being anger'd, puffes away from thence, Turning his side to the dew dropping South.
This wind you talke of blowes vs from our selues, Supper is done, and we shall come too late.
I feare too early, for my mind misgiues, Some consequence yet hanging in the starres, Shall bitterly begin his fearefull date With this nights reuels, and expire the tearme Of a despised life clos'd in my brest: By some vile forfeit of vntimely death. But he that hath the stirrage of my course, Direct my sute: on lustie Gentlemen.
Strike Drum.
They march about the Stage, and Seruingmen come forth with their napkins.
Enter Seruant.
Where's
Potpan,
that he helpes not to take away? He shift a Trencher? he scrape a Trencher?
When good manners, shall lie in one or two mens hands, and they vnwasht too, 'tis a foule thing.
Away with the Ioynstooles, remoue the Court- cubbord, looke to the Plate: good thou, saue mee a piece of Marchpane, and as thou louest me, let the Porter let in
Susan Grindstone,
and
Nell, Anthonie
and
Potpan.
I
Boy readie.
You are lookt for, and cal'd for, askt for, & sought for, in the great Chamber.
We cannot be here and there too, chearly Boyes, Be brisk awhile, and the longer liuer take all.
Exeunt.
Enter all the Guests and Gentlewomen to the Maskers.
Welcome Gentlemen, Ladies that haue their toes Vnplagu'd with Cornes, will walke about with you: Ah my Mistresses, which of you all Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty, She Ile sweare hath Cornes: am I come neare ye now? Welcome Gentlemen, I haue seene the day That I haue worne a Visor, and could tell A whispering tale in a faire Ladies eare: Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone, You are welcome Gentlemen, come Musitians play:
Musicke plaies: and they dance.
A Hall, Hall, giue roome, and foote it Girles, More light you knaues, and turne the Tables vp: And quench the fire, the Roome is growne too hot. Ah sirrah, this vnlookt for sport comes well: Nay sit, nay sit, good Cozin
Capulet,
For you and I are past our dauncing daies: How long 'ist now since last your selfe and I Were in a Maske?
Berlady thirty yeares.
What man: 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much, 'Tis since the Nuptiall of
Lucentio,
Come Pentycost as quickely as it will, Some fiue and twenty yeares, and then we Maskt.
'Tis more, 'tis more, his Sonne is elder sir: His Sonne is thirty.
Will you tell me that? His Sonne was but a Ward two yeares agoe.
What Ladie is that which doth inrich the hand Of yonder Knight?
I know not sir.
O she doth teach the Torches to burne bright: It seemes she hangs vpon the cheeke of night, As a rich Iewel in an Aethiops eare: Beauty too rich for vse, for earth too deare: So shewes a Snowy Doue trooping with Crowes, As yonder Lady ore her fellowes showes; The measure done, Ile watch her place of stand, And touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart loue till now, forsweare it sight, For I neuer saw true Beauty till this night.
This by his voice, should be a
Mountague.
Fetch me my Rapier Boy, what dares the slaue Come hither couer'd with an antique face, To fleere and scorne at our Solemnitie? Now by the stocke and Honour of my kin, To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.
Why how now kinsman, Wherefore storme you so?
Vncle this is a
Mountague,
our foe: A Villaine that is hither come in spight, To scorne at our Solemnitie this night.
Young
Romeo
is it?
'Tis he, that Villaine
Romeo.
Content thee gentle Coz, let him alone,
A
beares him like a portly Gentleman: And to say truth,
Verona
brags of him, To be a vertuous and well gouern'd youth: I would not for the wealth of all the towne, Here in my house do him disparagement: Therfore be patient, take no note of him, It is my
will
, the which if thou respect, Shew a faire presence, and put off these frownes, An
ill
beseeming semblance for a Feast
It fits when such a Villaine is a guest, Ile not endure him.
He shall be endur'd. What goodman boy, I say he shall, go
too
, Am I the Maister here or you? go
too
, Youle not endure him, God shall mend my soule, Youle make a Mutinie among the Guests: You will set cocke
a
hoope, youle be the man.
Why Vncle, 'tis a shame.
Go
too
, go
too
, You are a sawcy Boy, 'ist so indeed? This tricke may chance to scath you, I know what, You must contrary me, marry 'tis time. Well said my hearts, you are a Princox, goe, Be quiet, or more light, more light for shame, Ile make you quiet. What, chearely my hearts.
Patience perforce, with wilfull choler meeting, Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting: I will withdraw, but this intrusion shall Now seeming sweet, conuert to bitter gall.
Exit.
If I prophane with my vnworthiest hand, This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this, My lips to blushing Pilgrims did ready stand, To smooth that rough touch, with a tender kisse.
Good Pilgrime, You do wrong your hand too much. Which mannerly deuotion shewes in this, For Saints haue hands, that Pilgrims hands do tuch, And palme to palme, is holy Palmers kisse.
Haue not Saints lips, and holy Palmers too?
I
Pilgrim, lips that they must vse in prayer.
O then deare Saint, let lips do what hands do, They pray (grant thou) least faith turne to dispaire.
Saints do not moue, Though grant for prayers sake.
Then moue not while my prayers effect I take: Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg'd.
Then haue my lips the sin that they haue tooke.
Sin from my lips? O trespasse sweetly vrg'd: Giue me my sin againe.
You kisse by'th' booke.
Madam your Mother craues a word with you.
What is her Mother?
Marrie Batcheler, Her Mother is the Lady of the house, And a good Lady, and a wise, and Vertuous, I Nur'st her Daughter that you talkt withall: I tell you, he that can lay hold of her, Shall haue the chincks.
Is she a
Capulet
? O deare account! My life is my foes debt.
Away, be gone, the sport is at the best.
I
so I feare, the more is my vnrest.
Nay Gentlemen prepare not to be gone, We haue a trifling foolish Banquet towards: Is it e'ne so? why then I thanke you all. I thanke you honest Gentlemen, good night: More Torches here: come on, then let's to bed. Ah sirrah, by my faie it waxes late, Ile to my rest.
Come hither Nurse, What is yond Gentleman:
The Sonne and Heire of old
Tyberio.
What's he that now is going out of doore?
Marrie that I thinke be young
Petruchio.
What's he that follows here that would not dance?
I know not.
Go aske his name: if he be married, My graue is like to be my wedded bed.
His name is
Romeo,
and a
Mountague,
The onely Sonne of your great Enemie.
My onely Loue sprung from my onely hate, Too early seene, vnknowne, and knowne too late, Prodigious birth of Loue it is to me, That I must loue a loathed Enemie.
What's this? whats this?
A rime, I learne euen now Of one I dan'st withall.
One cals within, Iuliet.
Anon, anon: Come let's away, the strangers all are gone.
Exeunt.
Now old desire doth in his death bed lie, And yong affection gapes to be his Heire, That faire, for which Loue gron'd for and would die, With tender
Iuliet
matcht, is now not faire. Now
Romeo
is beloued, and Loues againe,
A
like bewitched by the charme of lookes: But to his foe suppos'd he must complaine, And she steale Loues sweet bait from fearefull hookes: Being held a foe, he may not haue accesse To breath such vowes as Louers vse to sweare, And she as much in Loue, her meanes much lesse, To meete her new Beloued any where: But passion lends them Power, time, meanes to meete, Temp'ring extremities with extreame sweete.
Enter Romeo alone.
Can I goe forward when my heart is here? Turne backe dull earth, and find thy Center out.
Enter Benuolio, with Mercutio.
Romeo,
my Cozen
Romeo, Romeo.
He is wise, And on my life hath stolne him home to bed.
He ran this way and leapt this Orchard wall. Call good
Mercutio:
Nay, Ile coniure too.
Romeo,
Humours, Madman, Passion, Louer, Appeare thou in the likenesse of a sigh, Speake but one time, and I am satisfied: Cry me but ay me, Prouant, but Loue and day, Speake to my goship
Venus
one faire word, One Nickname for her purblind Sonne and her, Young
Abraham Cupid
he that shot so true, When King
Cophetua
lou'd the begger Maid, He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moueth not, The Ape is dead, I must coniure him, I coniure thee by
Rosalines
bright eyes, By her High forehead, and her Scarlet lip, By her Fine foote, Straight leg, and Quiuering thigh, And the Demeanes, that there Adiacent lie, That in thy likenesse thou appeare to vs.
And
if he heare thee thou wilt anger him.
This cannot anger him, t'would anger him To raise a spirit in his Mistresse circle, Of some strange nature, letting it stand Till she had laid it, and coniured it downe, That were some spight. My inuocation is faire and honest, & in his Mistris name, I coniure onely but to raise vp him.
Come, he hath hid himselfe among these Trees To be consorted with the Humerous night: Blind is his Loue, and best befits the darke.
If Loue be blind, Loue cannot hit the marke, Now will he sit vnder a Medler tree, And wish his Mistresse were that kind of Fruite, As Maides cal Medlers when they laugh alone, O
Romeo
that she were, O that she were An open, or thou a Poprin Peare,
Romeo
goodnight, Ile to my Truckle bed, This Field-bed is
to
cold for me to sleepe, Come shall we go?
Go then, for 'tis in vaine to seeke him here That meanes not to be found.
Exeunt.
He ieasts at Scarres that neuer felt a wound, But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and
Iuliet
is the Sunne, Arise faire Sun and kill the enuious Moone, Who is already sicke and pale with griefe, That thou her Maid art far more faire then she: Be not her Maid since she is enuious, Her Vestal liuery is but sicke and greene, And none but fooles do weare it, cast it off: It is my Lady, O it is my Loue, O that she knew she were, She speakes, yet she sayes nothing, what of that? Her eye discourses, I will answere it: I am too bold 'tis not to me she speakes: Two of the fairest starres in all the Heauen, Hauing some businesse do entreat her eyes, To twinckle in their Spheres till they returne. What if her eyes were there, they in her head, The brightnesse of her cheeke would shame those starres, As day-light doth a Lampe, her eye in heauen, Would through the ayrie Region streame so bright, That Birds would sing, and thinke it were not night: See how she leanes her cheeke vpon her hand. O that I were a Gloue vpon that hand, That I might touch that cheeke.
Ay me.
She speakes. Oh speake againe bright Angell, for thou art As glorious to this night being ore my head, As is a winged messenger of heauen Vnto the white vpturned wondring eyes Of mortalls that fall backe to gaze on him, When he bestrides the lazie puffing Cloudes, And sailes vpon the bosome of the ayre.
O
Romeo, Romeo,
wherefore art thou
Romeo
? Denie thy Father and refuse thy name: Or if thou wilt not, be but sworne to my Loue, And Ile no longer be a
Capulet.
Shall I heare more, or shall I speake at this?
'Tis but thy name that is my Enemy: Thou art thy selfe, though not a
Mountague,
What's
Mountague
? it is nor hand nor foote, Nor arme, nor face, O be some other name Belonging to a man. What? in a names that which we call a Rose, By any other word would smell as sweete, So
Romeo
would, were he not
Romeo
cal'd, Retaine that deare perfection which he owes, Without that title
Romeo,
doffe thy name, And for thy name which is no part of thee, Take all my selfe.
I take thee at thy word: Call me but Loue, and Ile be new baptiz'd, Hence foorth I neuer will be
Romeo.
What man art thou, that thus bescreen'd in night So stumblest on my counsell?
By a name, I know not how to tell thee who I am: My name deare Saint, is hatefull to my selfe, Because it is an Enemy to thee, Had I it written, I would teare the word.
My eares haue yet not drunke a hundred words Of thy tongues vttering, yet I know the sound. Art thou not
Romeo,
and a
Montague
?
Neither faire Maid, if either thee dislike.
How cam'st thou hither. Tell me, and wherefore? The Orchard walls are high, and hard to climbe, And the place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here,
With Loues light wings Did I ore-perch these Walls, For stony limits cannot hold Loue out, And what Loue can do, that dares Loue attempt: Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.
If they do see thee, they will murther thee.
Alacke there lies more perill in thine eye, Then twenty of their Swords, looke thou but sweete, And I am proofe against their enmity.
I would not for the world they saw thee here.
I haue nights cloake to hide me from their eyes
And
but thou loue me, let them finde me here, My life were better ended by their hate, Then death proroged wanting of thy Loue.
By whose direction found'st thou out this place?
By Loue that first did prompt me to enquire, He lent me counsell, and I lent him eyes, I am no Pylot, yet wert thou as far As that vast-shore-washet with the farthest Sea, I should aduenture for such Marchandise.
Thou knowest the maske of night is on my face, Else would a Maiden blush bepaint my cheeke, For that which thou hast heard me speake to night, Faine would I dwell on forme, faine, faine, denie What I haue spoke, but farewell Complement, Doest thou Loue? I know thou wilt say
I
, And I will take thy word, yet if thou swear'st, Thou maiest proue false: at Louers periuries They say
Ioue
laught, oh gentle
Romeo,
If thou dost Loue, pronounce it faithfully: Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly wonne, Ile frowne and be peruerse, and say thee nay, So thou wilt wooe: But else not for the world. In truth faire
Mountague
I am too fond: And therefore thou maiest thinke my behauiour light, But trust me Gentleman, Ile proue more true, Then those that haue coying to be strange, I should haue beene more strange, I must confesse, But that thou ouer heard'st ere I was ware My true Loues passion, therefore pardon me, And not impute this yeelding to light Loue, Which the darke night hath so discouered.
Lady, by yonder Moone I vow, That tips with siluer all these Fruite tree tops.
O sweare not by the Moone, th' inconstant Moone, That monethly changes in her circled Orbe, Least that thy Loue proue likewise variable.
What shall I sweare by?
Do not sweare at all: Or if thou wilt sweare by thy gratious selfe, Which is the God of my Idolatry, And Ile beleeue thee.
If my hearts deare loue.
Well do not sweare, although I ioy in thee: I haue no ioy of this contract to night, It is too rash, too vnaduis'd, too sudden, Too like the lightning which doth cease to be Ere, one can say, it lightens, Sweete good night: This bud of Loue by Summers ripening breath, May proue a beautious Flower when next we meete: Goodnight, goodnight, as sweete repose and rest, Come to thy heart, as that within my brest.
O wilt thou leaue me so vnsatisfied?
What satisfaction can'st thou haue to night?
Th' exchange of thy Loues faithfull vow for mine.
I gaue thee mine before thou did'st request it: And yet I would it were to giue againe.
Would'st thou withdraw it, For what purpose Loue?
But to be franke and giue it thee againe, And yet I wish but for the thing I haue, My bounty is as boundlesse as the Sea, My Loue as deepe, the more I giue to thee The more I haue, for both are Infinite: I heare some noyse within deare Loue adue:
Cals within.
Anon good Nurse, sweet
Mountague
be true: Stay but a little, I will come againe.
O blessed blessed night, I am afear'd Being in night, all this is but a dreame, Too flattering sweet to be substantiall.
Three words deare
Romeo,
And goodnight indeed, If that thy bent of Loue be Honourable, Thy purpose marriage, send me word to morrow, By one that Ile procure to come to thee, Where and what time thou wilt performe the right, And all my Fortunes at thy foote Ile lay, And follow thee my Lord throughout the world.
Madam. I come, anon: but if thou meanest not well, I do beseech thee
Madam. (By and
by
I come) To cease thy strife, and leaue me to my griefe, To morrow will I send.
So thriue my soule.
A thousand times goodnight.
Exit.
A thousand times the worse to want thy light, Loue goes toward Loue as school-boyes fro[m] their books But Loue fro[m] Loue, towards schoole with heauie lookes.
Enter Iuliet againe.
Hist
Romeo
hist: O for a Falkners voice, To lure this Tassell gentle backe againe, Bondage is hoarse, and may not speake aloud, Else would I teare the Caue where Eccho lies, And make her ayrie tongue more hoarse, then With repetition of my
Romeo.
It is my soule that calls vpon my name. How siluer sweet, sound Louers tongues by night, Like softest Musicke to attending eares.
Romeo.
My Neece.
What
a
clock to morrow Shall I send to thee?
By the houre of nine.
I will not faile, 'tis twenty yeares till then, I haue forgot why I did call thee backe.
Let me stand here till thou remember it.
I shall forget, to haue thee still stand there, Remembring how I Loue thy company.
And Ile still stay, to haue thee still forget, Forgetting any other home but this.
'Tis almost morning, I would haue thee gone, And yet no further then a wantons Bird, That let's it hop a little from his hand, Like a poore prisoner in his twisted Gyues, And with a silken thred plucks it backe againe, So louing Iealous of his liberty.
I would I were thy Bird.
Sweet so would I, Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing: Good night, good night.
Parting is such sweete sorrow, That I shall say goodnight, till it be morrow.
Sleepe dwell vpon thine eyes, peace in thy brest.
Would I were sleepe and peace so sweet to rest, The gray ey'd morne smiles on the frowning night, Checkring the Easterne Clouds with streakes of light, And darkenesse fleckel'd like a drunkard reeles, From forth dayes pathway, made by
Titans
wheeles. Hence will I to my ghostly Friers close Cell, His helpe to craue, and my deare hap to tell.
Exit.
Enter Frier alone with a basket.
The gray ey'd morne smiles on the frowning night, Checkring the Easterne Cloudes with streaks of light: And fleckled darknesse like a drunkard reeles, From forth daies path, and
Titans
burning wheeles: Now ere the Sun aduance his burning eye, The day to cheere, and nights danke dew to dry, I must vpfill this Osier Cage of ours, With balefull weedes, and precious Iuiced flowers, The earth that's Natures mother, is her Tombe, What is her burying graue that is her wombe: And from her wombe children of diuers kind We sucking on her naturall bosome find: Many for many vertues excellent: None but for some, and yet all different. O mickle is the powerfull grace that lies In Plants, Hearbs, stones, and their true qualities: For nought so vile, that on earth doth liue, But to the earth some speciall good doth giue. Nor ought so good, but strain'd from that faire vse, Reuolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse. Vertue it selfe turnes vice being misapplied, And vice sometime by action dignified.
Enter Romeo.
Within the infant rind of this weake flower, Poyson hath residence, and medicine power: For this being smelt, with that part cheares each part, Being tasted stayes all sences with the heart. Two such opposed Kings encampe them still, In man as well as Hearbes, grace and rude will: And where the worser is predominant, Full soone the Canker death eates vp that Plant.
Good morrow Father.
Benedecite. What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? Young Sonne, it argues a distempered head, So soone to bid goodmorrow to thy bed; Care keepes his watch in euery old mans eye, And where Care lodges, sleepe will neuer lye: But where vnbrused youth with vnstuft braine Doth couch his lims, there, golden sleepe doth raigne; Therefore thy earlinesse doth me assure, Thou art vprous'd with some distemprature; Or if not so, then here I hit it right. Our
Romeo
hath not beene in bed to night.
That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine.
God pardon sin: wast thou with
Rosaline
?
With
Rosaline,
my ghostly Father? No, I haue forgot that name, and that names woe.
That's my good Son, but wher hast thou bin then?
Ile tell thee ere thou aske it me agen: I haue beene feasting with mine enemie, Where on a sudden one hath wounded me, That's by me wounded: both our remedies Within thy helpe and holy phisicke lies: I beare no hatred, blessed man: for loe My intercession likewise steads my foe.
Be plaine good Son, rest homely in thy drift, Ridling confession, findes but ridling shrift.
Then plainly know my hearts deare Loue is set, On the faire daughter of rich
Capulet:
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine; And all combin'd, saue what thou must combine By holy marriage: when and where, and how, We met, we wooed, and made exchange of vow: Ile tell thee as we passe, but this I pray, That thou consent to marrie vs to day.
Holy S[aint].
Francis,
what a change is heere? Is
Rosaline
that thou didst Loue so deare So soone forsaken? young mens Loue then lies Not truely in their hearts, but in their eyes. Iesu
Maria,
what a deale of brine Hath washt thy sallow cheekes for
Rosaline
? How much salt water throwne away in
wast
, To season Loue that of it doth not tast. The Sun not yet thy sighes, from heauen cleares, Thy old grones yet ringing in my auncient eares: Lo here vpon thy cheeke the staine doth sit, Of an old teare that is not washt off yet. If ere thou wast thy selfe, and these woes thine, Thou and these woes, were all for
Rosaline.
And art thou chang'd? pronounce this sentence then, Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.
Thou chid'st me oft for louing
Rosaline.
For doting, not for louing pupill mine.
And bad'st me bury Loue.
Not in a graue, To lay one in, another out to haue.
I pray thee chide me not, her I Loue now Doth grace for grace, and Loue for Loue allow: The other did not so.
O she knew well, Thy Loue did read by rote, that could not spell: But come young wauerer, come goe with me, In one respect, Ile thy assistant be: For this alliance may so happy proue, To turne your houshould rancor to pure Loue.
O let vs hence, I stand on sudden
hast
.
Wisely and slow, they stumble that run fast.
Exeunt
Enter Benuolio and Mercutio.
Where the deule should this
Romeo
be? came he not home to night?
Not to his Fathers, I spoke with his man.
Why that same pale hard-harted wench, that
Ro-saline
torments him so, that he will sure run mad.
Tibalt,
the kinsman to old
Capulet,
hath sent a Let- ter to his Fathers house.
A challenge on my life.
Romeo
will answere it.
Any man that can write, may answere a Letter.
Nay, he will answere the Letters Maister how he dares, being dared.
Alas poore
Romeo,
he is already dead stab'd with a white wenches blacke eye, runne through the eare with a Loue song, the very pinne of his heart, cleft with the blind Bowe-boyes but-shaft, and is he a man to encounter
Tybalt
?
Why what is
Tibalt
?
More then Prince of Cats. Oh hee's the Couragi- ous Captaine of Complements: he fights as you sing pricksong, keeps time, distance, and proportion, he rests his minum, one, two, and the third in your bosom: the ve- ry butcher of a silk button, a Dualist, a Dualist: a Gentleman of the very first house of the first and second cause: ah the immortall Passado, the Punto reuerso, the Hay.
The what?
The Pox of such antique lisping affecting phan- tacies, these new tuners of accent: Iesu a very good blade, a very tall man, a very good whore. Why is not this a la- mentable thing Grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies: these fashion Mongers, these par-don-mee's, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench. O their bones, their bones.
Enter Romeo.
Here comes
Romeo,
here comes
Romeo.
Without his Roe, like a dryed Hering. O flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified? Now is he for the numbers that
Petrarch
flowed in:
Laura
to his Lady, was a kitchen wench, marrie she had a better Loue to berime her:
Dido
a dowdie,
Cleopatra
a Gipsie,
Hellen
and
Hero,
hildings and Harlots:
Thisbie
a gray eie or so, but not to the purpose. Signior
Romeo, Bon iour,
there's a French salutation to your French slop: you gaue vs the counterfait fairely last night.
Good morrow to you both, what counterfeit did I giue you?
The slip sir, the slip, can you not conceiue?
Pardon
Mercutio,
my businesse was great, and in such a case as mine, a man may straine curtesie.
That's as much as to say, such a case as yours con- strains a man to bow in the hams.
Meaning to cursie.
Thou hast most kindly hit it.
A most curteous exposition.
Nay, I am the very pinck of curtesie.
Pinke for flower.
Right.
Why then is my Pump well flowr'd.
Sure wit, follow me this ieast, now till thou hast worne out thy Pump, that when the single sole of it is worne, the ieast may remaine after the wearing, sole-singular.
O single sol'd ieast, Soly singular for the singlenesse.
Come betweene vs good
Benuolio,
my wits faints.
Swits and spurs, Swits and spurs, or Ile crie a match.
Nay, if our wits run the Wild-Goose chase, I am done: For thou hast more of the Wild-Goose in one of thy wits, then I am sure I haue in my whole fiue. Was I with you there for the Goose?
Thou wast neuer with mee for any thing, when thou wast not there for the Goose.
I will bite thee by the eare for that iest.
Nay, good Goose bite not.
Thy wit is a very Bitter-sweeting, It is a most sharpe sawce.
And is it not well seru'd into a Sweet-Goose?
Oh here's a wit of Cheuerell, that stretches from an ynch narrow, to an ell broad.
I stretch it out for that word, broad, which added to the Goose, proues thee farre and wide, abroad Goose.
Why is not this better now, then groning for Loue, now art thou sociable, now art thou
Romeo:
now art thou what thou art, by
Art
as well as by Nature, for this driueling Loue is like a great Naturall, that runs lolling vp and downe to hid his bable in a hole.
Stop there, stop there.
Thou desir'st me to stop in my tale against the
haire
.
Thou would'st else haue made thy tale large.
O thou art deceiu'd, I would haue made it short, or I was come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant indeed to occupie the argument no longer.
Enter Nurse and her man.
Here's a goodly geare. A sayle, a sayle.
Two, two: a Shirt and a Smocke.
Peter
?
Anon.
My Fan
Peter
?
Good
Peter
to hide her face? For her Fans the fairer face?
God ye good morrow Gentlemen.
God ye gooden faire Gentlewoman.
Is it gooden?
'Tis no lesse I tell you: for the bawdy hand of the Dyall is now vpon the pricke of Noone.
Out vpon you: what a man are you?
One Gentlewoman, That God hath made, himselfe to mar.
By my troth it is said, for himselfe to, mar qua- tha: Gentlemen, can any of you tel me where I may find the young
Romeo
?
I can tell you: but young
Romeo
will be older when you haue found him, then he was when you sought him: I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse.
You say well.
Yea is the worst well, Very well tooke: Ifaith, wisely, wisely.
If you be he sir, I desire some confidence with you?
She will endite him to some Supper.
A baud, a baud, a baud. So ho.
What hast thou found?
No Hare sir, vnlesse a Hare sir in a Lenten pie, that is something stale and hoare ere it be spent. An old Hare hoare, and an old Hare hoare is very good meat in Lent. But a Hare that is hoare is too much for a score, when it hoares ere it be spent,
Romeo
will you come to your Fathers? Weele to dinner thither.
I will follow you.
Farewell auncient Lady: Farewell Lady, Lady, Lady.
Exit. Mercutio, Benuolio.
I pray you sir, what sawcie Merchant was this that was so full of his roperie?
A Gentleman Nurse, that loues to heare himselfe talke, and will speake more in a minute, then he will stand to in a Moneth.
And
a
speake any thing against me, Ile take him downe,
z
a
were lustier then he is, and twentie such Iacks: and if I cannot, Ile finde those that shall: scuruie knaue, I am none of his flurt-gils, I am none of his skaines mates, and thou must stand by too and suffer euery knaue to vse me at his pleasure.
I saw no man vse you at his pleasure: if I had, my weapon should quickly haue beene out, I warrant you, I dare draw assoone as another man, if I see occasion in a good quarrell, and the law on my side.
Now afore God, I am so vext, that euery part about me quiuers, skuruy knaue: pray you sir a word: and as I told you, my young Lady bid me enquire you out, what she bid me say, I will keepe to my selfe: but first let me tell ye, if ye should leade her in a fooles paradise, as they say, it were a very grosse kind of behauiour, as they say: for the Gentlewoman is yong: & therefore, if you should deale double with her, truely it were an
ill
thing to be of- fered to any Gentlewoman, and very weake dealing.
Nurse commend me to thy Lady and Mistresse, I protest vnto thee.
Good heart, and yfaith I will tell her as much: Lord, Lord she will be a ioyfull woman.
What wilt thou tell her Nurse? thou doest not marke me?
I will tell her sir, that you do protest, which as I take it, is a Gentleman-like offer.
Bid her deuise some meanes to come to shrift this
afternoone
, And there she shall at Frier
Lawrence
Cell Be shriu'd and married: here is for thy paines.
No truly sir not a penny.
Go
too
, I say you shall.
This afternoone sir? well she shall be there.
And stay thou good Nurse behind the Abbey wall, Within this houre my man shall be with thee, And bring thee Cords made like a tackled staire, Which to the high top gallant of my ioy, Must be my conuoy in the secret night. Farewell, be trustie and Ile quite thy paines: Farewell, commend me to thy Mistresse.
Now God in heauen blesse thee: harke you sir,
What saist thou my deare Nurse?
Is your man secret, did you nere heare say two may keepe counsell putting one away.
Warrant thee my man is true as steele.
Well sir, my Mistresse is the sweetest Lady, Lord, Lord, when 'twas a little prating thing. O there is a No- ble man in Towne one
Paris,
that would faine lay knife a- board: but she good soule had as leeue see a Toade, a very Toade as see him: I anger her sometimes, and tell her that
Paris
is the properer man, but Ile warrant you, when I say so, shee lookes as pale as any clout in the versall world. Doth not Rosemarie and
Romeo
begin both with a letter?
I
Nurse, what of that? Both with an
R
A
mocker that's the dogs name.
R.
is for the no, I know it begins with some other letter, and she hath the prettiest sententious of it, of you and Rosemary, that it would do you good to heare it.
Commend me to thy Lady.
I
a thousand times.
Peter
?
Anon.
Before and apace.
Exit Nurse and Peter.
Enter Iuliet.
The clocke strook nine, when I did send the Nurse, In halfe an houre she promised to returne, Perchance she cannot meete him: that's not so: Oh she is lame, Loues Herauld should be thoughts, Which ten times faster glides then the Sunnes beames, Driuing backe shadowes ouer lowring hils. Therefore do nimble Pinion'd Doues draw Loue, And therefore hath the wind-swift
Cupid
wings: Now is the Sun vpon the highmost hill Of this daies iourney, and from nine till twelue, Is three long houres, yet she is not come. Had she affections and warme youthfull blood, She would be as swift in motion as a ball, My words would bandy her to my sweete Loue, And his to me, but old folkes, Many faine as they were dead, Vnwieldie, slow, heauy, and pale as lead.
Enter Nurse.
O God she comes, O hony Nurse what newes? Hast thou met with him? send thy man away.
Peter
stay at the gate.
Now good sweet Nurse: O Lord, why lookest thou sad? Though newes, be sad, yet tell them merrily. If good thou sham'st the musicke of sweet newes, By playing it to me, with so sower a face.
I am
a
weary, giue me leaue awhile, Fie how my bones ake, what a iaunt haue I had?
I would thou had'st my bones, and I thy newes: Nay come I pray thee speake, good good Nurse speake.
Iesu what
hast
? can you not stay
a
while? Do you not see that I am out of breath?
How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breth To say to me, that thou art out of breath? The excuse that thou dost make in this delay, Is longer then the tale thou dost excuse. Is thy newes good or bad? answere to that, Say either, and Ile stay the circumstance: Let me be satisfied, ist good or bad?
Well, you haue made a simple choice, you know not how to chuse a man:
Romeo,
no not he though his face be better then any mans, yet his legs excels all mens, and for a hand, and a foote, and a body, though they be not to be talkt on, yet they are past compare: he is not the flower of curtesie, but Ile warrant him as gentle a Lambe: go thy waies wench, serue God. What haue you din'd at home?
No no: but all this did I know before What saies he of our marriage? what of that?
Lord how my head akes, what a head haue I? It beates as it would fall in twenty peeces. My backe
a
tother side: o my backe, my backe: Beshrew your heart for sending me about To catch my death with iaunting vp and downe.
Ifaith: I am sorrie that thou art so well. Sweet sweet, sweet Nurse, tell me what saies my Loue?
Your Loue saies like an honest Gentleman, And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, And I warrant a vertuous: where is your Mother?
Where is my Mother? Why she is within, where should she be? How odly thou repli'st: Your Loue saies like an honest Gentleman: Where is your Mother?
O Gods Lady deare, Are you so hot? marrie come vp I trow, Is this the Poultis for my aking bones? Henceforward do your messages your selfe.
Heere's such a coile, come what saies
Romeo
?
Haue you got leaue to go to shift to day?
I haue.
Then high you hence to Frier
Lawrence
Cell, There staies a Husband to make you a wife: Now comes the wanton bloud vp in your cheekes, Thei'le be in Scarlet straight at any newes: Hie you to Church, I must an other way, To fetch a Ladder by the which your Loue Must climde a birds nest Soone when it is darke: I am the drudge, and toile in your delight: But you shall beare the burthen soone at night. Go Ile to dinner, hie you to the Cell.
Hie to high Fortune, honest Nurse, farewell.
Exeunt.
Enter Frier and Romeo.
So smile the heauens vpon this holy act, That after houres, with sorrow chide vs not.
Amen, amen, but come what sorrow can, It cannot counteruaile the exchange of ioy That one short minute giues me in her sight: Do thou but close our hands with holy words. Then Loue-deuouring death do what he dare, It is inough. I may call her mine.
These violent delights haue violent endes, And in their triumph: die like fire and powder; Which as they kisse consume. The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his owne deliciousnesse, And in the taste confoundes the appetite. Therefore Loue moderately, long Loue doth so, Too swift arriues as tardie as too slow.
Enter Iuliet.
Here comes the Lady. Oh so light a foot Will nere weare out the euerlasting flint, A Louer may bestride the Gossamours, That ydles in the wanton Summer ayre, And yet not fall, so light is vanitie.
Good euen to my ghostly Confessor.
Romeo
shall thanke thee Daughter for vs both.
As much to him, else in his thanks too much.
Ah
Iuliet,
if the measure of thy ioy Be heapt like mine, and that thy skill be more To blason it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour ayre, and let rich musickes tongue, Vnfold the imagin'd happinesse that both Receiue in either, by this deere encounter.
Conceit more rich in matter then in words, Brags of his substance, not of Ornament: They are but beggers that can count their worth, But my true Loue is growne to such excesse, I cannot sum vp some of halfe my wealth.
Come, come with me, & we will make short worke, For by your leaues, you shall not stay alone, Till holy Church incorporate two in one.
Enter Mercutio, Benuolio, and men.
I pray thee good
Mercutio
lets retire, The day is hot, the
Capulets
abroad:
And
if we meet, we shal not scape a brawle, for now these hot dayes, is the mad blood stirring.
Thou art like one of these fellowes, that when he enters the confines of a Tauerne, claps me his Sword vpon the Table, and sayes, God send me no need of thee: and by the operation of the second cup, drawes him on the Draw- er, when indeed there is no need.
Am I like such a Fellow?
Come, come, thou art as hot a Iacke in thy mood, as any in
Italie:
and assoone moued to be moodie, and as- soone moodie to be mou'd.
And what
too
?
Nay,
and
there were two such, we should haue none shortly, for one would kill the other: thou, why thou wilt quarrell with a man that hath a haire more, or a haire lesse in his beard, then thou hast: thou wilt quarrell with a man for cracking Nuts, hauing no other reason, but be- cause thou hast hasell eyes: what eye, but such an eye, would spie out such a quarrell? thy head is full of quar- rels, as an egge is full of meat, and yet thy head hath bin beaten as addle as an egge for quarreling: thou hast quar-rel'd with a man for coffing in the street, because he hath wakened thy Dog that hath laine asleepe in the Sun. Did'st thou not fall out with a Tailor for wearing his new Doub- let before Easter? with another, for tying his new shooes with old Riband, and yet thou wilt Tutor me from quar- relling?
And
I were so apt to quarell as thou art, any man should buy the Fee-simple of my life, for an houre and a quarter.
The Fee-simple? O simple.
Enter Tybalt, Petruchio, and others.
By my head here comes the
Capulets.
By my
heele
I care not.
Follow me close, for I will speake to them. Gentlemen, Good den, a word with one of you.
And
but one word with one of vs? couple it with something, make it a word and a blow.
You shall find me apt inough to that sir,
and
you will giue me occasion.
Could you not take some occasion without giuing?
Mercutio
thou consort'st with
Romeo.
Consort? what dost thou make vs Minstrels? & thou make Minstrels of vs, looke to heare nothing but dis- cords: heere's my fiddlesticke, heere's that shall make you daunce. Come consort.
We talke here in the publike haunt of men, Either withdraw vnto some priuate place, Or reason coldly of your greeuances: Or else depart, here all eies gaze on vs.
Mens eyes were made to looke, and let them gaze. I will not budge for no mans pleasure I.
Enter Romeo.
Well peace be with you sir, here comes my man.
But Ile be hang'd sir if he weare your Liuery. Marry go before to field, heele be your follower, Your worship in that sense, may call him man.
Romeo,
the loue I beare thee, can affoord No better terme then this: Thou art a Villaine.
Tibalt,
the reason that I haue to loue thee, Doth much excuse the appertaining rage To such a greeting: Villaine am I none; Therefore farewell, I see thou know'st me not.
Boy, this shall not excuse the iniuries That thou hast done me, therefore turne and draw.
I do protest I neuer iniur'd thee, But lou'd thee better then thou can'st deuise: Till thou shalt know the reason of my loue, And so good
Capulet,
which name I tender As dearely as my owne, be satisfied.
O calme, dishonourable, vile submission:
Alla stucatho
carries it away.
Tybalt,
you Rat-catcher, will you walke?
What wouldst thou haue with me?
Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine liues, that I meane to make bold withall, and as you shall vse me hereafter dry beate the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your Sword out of his Pilcher by the eares? Make
hast
, least mine be about your eares ere it be out.
I am for you.
Gentle
Mercutio,
put thy Rapier vp.
Come sir, your Passado.
Draw
Benuolio,
beat downe their weapons: Gentlemen, for shame forbeare this outrage,
Tibalt, Mercutio,
the Prince expresly hath Forbidden bandying in
Verona
streetes. Hold
Tybalt,
good
Mercutio.
Exit Tybalt.
I am hurt. A plague
a
both the Houses, I am sped: Is he gone and hath nothing?
What art thou hurt?
I
,
I
, a scratch, a scratch, marry 'tis inough, Where is my Page? go Villaine fetch a Surgeon.
Courage man, the hurt cannot be much.
No: 'tis not so deepe as a
well
, nor so wide as a Church doore, but 'tis inough, 'twill serue: aske for me to morrow, and you shall find me a graue man. I am pepper'd I warrant, for this world: a plague
a
both your houses. What, a Dog, a Rat, a Mouse, a Cat to scratch a man to death: a Braggart, a Rogue, a Villaine, that fights by the booke of Arithmeticke, why the deu'le came you be- tweene vs? I was hurt vnder your arme.
I thought all for the best.
Helpe me into some house
Benuolio,
Or I shall faint: a plague
a
both your houses. They haue made wormesmeat of me, I haue it, and soundly to your Houses.
Exit.
This Gentleman the Princes neere Alie, My very Friend hath got his mortall hurt In my behalfe, my reputation stain'd With
Tibalts
slaunder,
Tybalt
that an houre Hath beene my Cozin: O Sweet
Iuliet,
Thy Beauty hath made me Effeminate, And in my temper softned Valours steele.
Enter Benuolio.
O
Romeo, Romeo,
braue
Mercutio
's is dead, That Gallant spirit hath aspir'd the Cloudes, Which too vntimely here did scorne the earth.
This daies blacke Fate, on mo daies depend, This but begins, the wo others must end.
Enter Tybalt.
Here comes the Furious
Tybalt
backe againe.
He gon in triumph, and
Mercutio
slaine? Away to heauen respectiue Lenitie, And fire and Fury, be my conduct now. Now
Tybalt
take the Villaine backe againe That late thou gau'st me, for
Mercutios
soule Is but a little way aboue our heads, Staying for thine to keepe him companie: Either thou or I, or both, must goe with him.
Thou wretched Boy that didst consort him here, Shalt with him hence.
This shall determine that.
They fight. Tybalt falles.
Romeo,
away be gone: The Citizens are vp, and
Tybalt
slaine, Stand not amaz'd, the Prince will Doome thee death If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away.
O! I am Fortunes foole.
Why dost thou stay?
Exit Romeo.
Enter Citizens.
Which way ran he that kild
Mercutio
?
that Murtherer, which way ran he?
There lies that
Tybalt.
Vp sir go with me: I charge thee in the Princes names obey.
Enter Prince, old Montague, Capulet, their Wiues and all.
Where are the vile beginners of this Fray?
O Noble Prince, I can discouer all The vnluckie Mannage of this fatall brall: There lies the man slaine by young
Romeo,
That slew thy kinsman braue
Mercutio.
Tybalt,
my Cozin? O my Brothers Child, O Prince, O Cozin, Husband, O the blood is spild Of my deare kinsman. Prince as thou art true, For bloud of ours, shed bloud of
Mountague.
O Cozin, Cozin.
Benuolio,
who began this Fray?
Tybalt
here slaine, whom
Romeo's
hand did slay,
Romeo
that spoke him faire, bid him bethinke How nice the Quarrell was, and vrg'd withall Your high displeasure: all this vttered, With gentle breath, calme looke, knees humbly bow'd Could not take truce with the vnruly spleene Of
Tybalts
deafe to peace, but that he Tilts With Peircing steele at bold
Mercutio's
breast, Who all as hot, turnes deadly point to point, And with a Martiall scorne, with one hand beates Cold death aside, and with the other sends It back to
Tybalt,
whose dexterity Retorts it:
Romeo
he cries aloud, Hold Friends, Friends part, and swifter then his tongue, His aged arme, beats downe their fatall points, And twixt them rushes, vnderneath whose arme, An enuious thrust from
Tybalt,
hit the life Of stout
Mercutio,
and then
Tybalt
fled. But
by
and by comes backe to
Romeo,
Who had but newly entertained Reuenge, And too't they goe like lightning, for ere I Could draw to part them, was stout
Tybalt
slaine: And as he fell, did
Romeo
turne and flie: This is the truth, or let
Benuolio
die.
He is a kinsman to the
Mountague,
Affection makes him false, he speakes not true: Some twenty of them fought in this blacke strife, And all those twenty could but kill one life. I beg for Iustice, which thou Prince must giue:
Romeo
slew
Tybalt, Romeo
must not liue.
Romeo
slew him, he slew
Mercutio,
Who now the price of his deare blood doth owe.
Not
Romeo
Prince, he was
Mercutios
Friend, His fault concludes, but what the law should end, The life of
Tybalt.
And for that offence, Immediately we doe exile him hence: I haue an interest in your hearts proceeding: My bloud for your rude brawles doth lie
a
bleeding. But Ile Amerce you with so strong a fine, That you shall all repent the losse of mine. It will be deafe to pleading and excuses, Nor teares, nor prayers shall purchase our abuses. Therefore vse none, let
Romeo
hence in
hast
, Else when he is found, that houre is his last. Beare hence his body, and attend our
will
: Mercy not Murders, pardoning those that kill.
Exeunt.
Enter Iuliet alone.
Gallop apace, you fiery footed steedes, Towards
Phoebus
lodging, such a Wagoner As
Phaeton
would whip you to the west, And bring in Cloudie night immediately. Spred thy close Curtaine Loue-performing night, That run-awayes eyes may wincke, and
Romeo
Leape to these armes, vntalkt of and vnseene, Louers can see to doe their Amorous rights, And by their owne Beauties: or if Loue be blind, It best agrees with night: come ciuill night, Thou sober suted Matron all in blacke, And learne me how to loose a winning match, Plaid for a paire of stainlesse Maidenhoods, Hood my vnman'd blood bayting in my Cheekes, With thy Blacke mantle, till strange Loue grow bold, Thinke true Loue acted simple modestie: Come night, come
Romeo,
come thou day in night, For thou wilt lie vpon the wings of night Whiter then new Snow vpon a Rauens backe: Come gentle night, come louing blackebrow'd night. Giue me my
Romeo,
and when I shall die, Take him and cut him out in little starres, And he will make the Face of heauen so fine, That all the world will be in Loue with night, And pay no worship to the Garish Sun. O I haue bought the Mansion of a Loue, But not possest it, and though I am sold, Not yet enioy'd, so tedious is this day, As is the night before some Festiuall, To an impatient child that hath new robes And may not weare them, O here comes my Nurse:
Enter Nurse with cords.
And she brings newes and euery tongue that speaks But
Romeos
name, speakes heauenly eloquence: Now Nurse, what newes? what hast thou there? The Cords that
Romeo
bid thee fetch?
I
,
I
, the Cords.
Ay me, what newes? Why dost thou wring thy hands.
A
weladay, hee's dead, hee's dead, We are vndone Lady, we are vndone. Alacke the day, hee's gone, hee's kil'd, he's dead.
Can heauen be so enuious?
Romeo
can, Though heauen cannot. O
Romeo, Romeo.
Who euer would haue thought it
Romeo.
What diuell art thou, That dost torment me thus? This torture should be roar'd in dismall
hell
, Hath
Romeo
slaine himselfe? say thou but
I
, And that bare vowell I shall poyson more Then the death-darting eye of Cockatrice, I am not I, if there be such an
I
. Or those eyes shot, that makes thee answere
I
: If he be slaine say
I
, or if not, no. Briefe, sounds, determine of my weale or wo.
I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes, God saue the marke, here on his manly brest, A pitteous Coarse, a bloody piteous Coarse: Pale, pale as ashes, all bedawb'd in blood, All in gore blood I sounded at the sight.
O breake my heart, Poore Banckrout breake at once, To prison eyes, nere looke on libertie. Vile earth to earth resigne, end motion here, And thou and
Romeo
presse
on
heauie beere.
O
Tybalt, Tybalt,
the best Friend I had: O curteous
Tybalt
honest Gentleman, That euer I should liue to see thee dead.
What storme is this that blowes so contrarie? Is
Romeo
slaughtred? and is
Tybalt
dead? My dearest Cozen, and my dearer Lord: Then dreadfull Trumpet sound the generall doome, For who is liuing, if those two are gone?
Tybalt
is gone, and
Romeo
banished,
Romeo
that kil'd him, he is banished.
O God! Did
Romeo's
hand shed
Tybalts
blood It did, it did, alas the day, it did.
O Serpent heart hid with a flowring face.
Did euer Dragon keepe so faire a Caue? Beautifull Tyrant, fiend Angelicall: Rauenous Doue-feather'd Rauen, Woluish-rauening Lambe, Dispised substance of Diuinest show: Iust opposite to what thou iustly seem'st, A dimne Saint, an Honourable Villaine: O Nature! what had'st thou to doe in
hell
, When thou did'st bower the spirit of a fiend In mortall paradise of such sweet flesh? Was euer booke containing such vile matter So fairely bound? O that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous Pallace.
There's no trust, no faith, no honestie in men, All periur'd, all forsworne, all naught, all dissemblers, Ah where's my man? giue me some Aqua-vitae? These griefes, these woes, these sorrowes make me old: Shame come to
Romeo.
Blister'd be thy tongue For such a wish, he was not borne to shame: Vpon his brow shame is asham'd to sit; For 'tis a throane where Honour may be Crown'd Sole Monarch of the vniuersall earth: O what a beast was I to chide him?
Will you speake well of him, That kil'd your Cozen?
Shall I speake
ill
of him that is my husband? Ah poore my Lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, When I thy three houres wife haue mangled it. But wherefore Villaine did'st thou kill my Cozin? That Villaine Cozin would haue kil'd my husband: Backe foolish teares, backe to your natiue spring, Your tributarie drops belong to woe, Which you mistaking offer vp to ioy: My husband liues that
Tibalt
would haue slaine, And
Tibalt
dead that would haue slaine my husband: All this is comfort, wherefore weepe I then? Some words there was worser then
Tybalts
death That murdered me, I would forget it feine, But oh, it presses to my memory, Like damned guilty deedes to sinners minds,
Tybalt
is dead and
Romeo
banished: That banished, that one word banished, Hath slaine ten thousand
Tibalts: Tibalts
death Was woe inough if it had ended there: Or if sower woe delights in fellowship, And needly will be rankt with other griefes, Why followed not when she said
Tibalt
s dead, Thy Father or thy Mother, nay or both, Which moderne lamentation might haue mou'd. But which a rere-ward following
Tybalts
death
Romeo
is banished to speake that word, Is Father, Mother,
Tybalt, Romeo, Iuliet,
All slaine, all dead:
Romeo
is banished, There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, In that words death, no words can that woe sound. Where is my Father and my Mother Nurse?
Weeping and wailing ouer
Tybalts
Coarse, Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.
Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shal be spent When theirs are drie for
Romeo's
banishment. Take vp those Cordes, poore ropes you are beguil'd, Both you and I for
Romeo
is exild: He made you for a high-way to my bed, But I a Maid, die Maiden widowed. Come Cord, come Nurse, Ile to my wedding bed, And death not
Romeo,
take my Maiden head.
Hie to your Chamber, Ile find
Romeo
To comfort you, I wot well where he is: Harke ye your
Romeo
will be heere at night, Ile to him, he is hid at
Lawrence
Cell.
O find him, giue this Ring to my true Knight, And bid him come, to take his last farewell.
Exit
Enter Frier and Romeo.
Romeo
come forth, Come forth thou fearfull man, Affliction is enamor'd of thy parts And thou art wedded to calamitie,
Father what newes? What is the Princes Doome? What sorrow craues acquaintance at my hand, That I yet know not?
Too familiar Is my deare Sonne with such sowre Company I bring thee tydings of the Princes Doome.
What lesse then Doomesday, Is the Princes Doome?
A gentler iudgement vanisht from his lips, Not bodies death, but bodies banishment.
Ha, banishment? be mercifull, say death: For exile hath more terror in his looke, Much more then death: do not say banishment.
Here from
Verona
art thou banished: Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
There is no world without
Verona
walles, But Purgatorie, Torture,
hell
it selfe: Hence banished, is banisht from the world, And worlds exile is death. Then banished, Is death, mistearm'd, calling death banished, Thou cut'st my head off with a golden Axe, And smilest vpon the stroke that murders me.
O deadly sin, O rude vnthankefulnesse! Thy falt our Law calles death, but the kind Prince Taking thy part, hath rusht aside the Law, And turn'd that blacke word death, to banishment. This is deare mercy, and thou seest it not.
'Tis Torture and not mercy, heauen is here Where
Iuliet
liues, and euery Cat and Dog, And little Mouse, euery vnworthy thing Liue here in Heauen and may looke on her, But
Romeo
may not. More Validitie, More Honourable state, more Courtship liues In carrion Flies, then
Romeo:
they may seaze On the white wonder of deare
Iuliets
hand, And steale immortall blessing from her lips, Who euen in pure and vestall modestie Still blush, as thinking their owne kisses sin. This may Flies doe, when I from this must flie, And saist thou yet, that exile is not death? But
Romeo
may not, hee is banished. Had'st thou no poyson mixt, no sharpe ground knife, No sudden meane of death, though nere so meane, But banished to kill me? Banished? O Frier, the damned vse that word in
hell
: Howlings attends it, how hast then the hart Being a Diuine, a Ghostly Confessor, A Sin-Absoluer, and my Friend profest: To mangle me with that word, banished?
Then fond Mad man, heare me speake.
O thou wilt speake againe of banishment.
Ile giue thee Armour to keepe off that word, Aduersities sweete milke, Philosophie, To comfort thee, though thou art banished.
Yet banished? hang vp Philosophie: Vnlesse Philosophie can make a
Iuliet,
Displant a Towne, reuerse a Princes Doome, It helpes not, it preuailes not, talke no more.
O then I see, that Mad men haue no eares.
How should they, When wisemen haue no eyes?
Let me dispaire with thee of thy estate,
Thou can'st not speake of that
dost not feele, Wert thou as young as
Iuliet
my Loue: An houre but married,
Tybalt
murdered, Doting like me, and like me banished, Then mightest thou speake, Then mightest thou teare thy hayre, And fall vpon the ground as I doe now, Taking the measure of an vnmade graue.
Enter Nurse, and knockes.
Arise one knockes, Good
Romeo
hide thy selfe.
Not I, Vnlesse the breath of Hartsicke groanes Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes.
Knocke
Harke how they knocke: (Who's there)
Romeo
arise, Thou wilt be taken, stay
a
while, stand vp:
Knocke.
Run to my study:
by
and by, Gods
will
What simplenesse is this: I come, I come.
Knocke.
Who knocks so hard? Whence come you? what's your
will
?
Enter Nurse.
Let me come in, And you shall know my errand: I come from Lady
Iuliet.
Welcome then.
O holy Frier, O tell me holy Frier, Where's my Ladies Lord? where's
Romeo
?
There on the ground, With his owne teares made drunke.
O he is euen in my Mistresse case, Iust in her case. O wofull simpathy: Pittious predicament, euen so lies she, Blubbring and weeping, weeping and blubbring, Stand vp, stand vp, stand
and
you be a man, For
Iuliets
sake, for her sake rise and stand: Why should you fall into so deepe an
O
.
Nurse.
Ah sir, ah sir, deaths the end of all.
Speak'st thou of
Iuliet
? how is it with her? Doth not she thinke me an old Murtherer, Now I haue stain'd the Childhood of our ioy, With blood remoued, but little from her owne? Where is she? and how doth she? and what sayes My conceal'd Lady to our conceal'd Loue?
Oh she sayes nothing sir, but weeps and weeps, And now fals on her bed, and then starts vp, And
Tybalt
calls, and then on
Romeo
cries, And then downe falls againe.
As if that name shot from the dead leuell of a Gun, Did murder her, as that names cursed hand Murdred her kinsman. Oh tell me Frier, tell me, In what vile part of this Anatomie Doth my name lodge? Tell me, that I may sacke The hatefull Mansion.
Hold thy desperate hand: Art thou a man? thy forme cries out thou art: Thy teares are womanish, thy wild acts denote The vnreasonable Furie of a beast. Vnseemely woman, in a seeming man, And
ill
beseeming beast in seeming both, Thou hast amaz'd me. By my holy order, I thought thy disposition better temper'd. Hast thou slaine
Tybalt
? wilt thou slay thy selfe? And slay thy Lady, that in thy life lies, By doing damned hate vpon thy selfe? Why rayl'st thou on thy birth? the heauen and earth? Since birth, and heauen and earth, all three do meete In thee at once, which thou at once would'st loose. Fie, fie, thou sham'st thy shape, thy loue, thy wit, Which like a Vsurer abound'st in all: And vsest none in that true vse indeed, Which should bedecke thy shape, thy loue, thy wit: Thy Noble shape, is but a forme of waxe, Digressing from the Valour of a man, Thy deare Loue sworne but hollow periurie, Killing that Loue which thou hast vow'd to cherish. Thy wit, that Ornament, to shape and Loue, Mishapen in the conduct of them both: Like powder in a skillesse Souldiers flaske, Is set
a
fire by thine owne ignorance, And thou dismembred with thine owne defence. What, rowse thee man, thy
Iuliet
is aliue, For whose deare sake thou wast but lately dead. There art thou happy.
Tybalt
would kill thee, But thou slew'st
Tybalt,
there art thou happie. The law that threatned death became thy Friend. And turn'd it to exile, there art thou happy. A packe or blessing light vpon thy backe, Happinesse Courts thee in her best array, But like a mishaped and sullen wench, Thou puttest vp thy Fortune and thy Loue: Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable. Goe get thee to thy Loue as was decreed, Ascend her Chamber, hence and comfort her: But looke thou stay not till the watch be set, For then thou canst not passe to
Mantua,
Where thou shalt liue till we can finde a time To blaze your marriage, reconcile your Friends, Beg pardon of thy Prince, and call thee backe, With twenty hundred thousand times more ioy Then thou went'st forth in lamentation. Goe before Nurse, commend me to thy Lady, And bid her hasten all the house to bed, Which heauy sorrow makes them apt vnto.
Romeo
is comming.
O Lord, I could haue staid here all night, To heare good counsell: oh what learning is! My Lord Ile tell my Lady you will come.
Do so, and bid my Sweete prepare to chide.
Heere sir, a Ring she bid me giue you sir: Hie you, make
hast
, for it growes very late.
How well my comfort is reuiu'd by this.
Go hence, Goodnight, and here stands all your state: Either be gone before the watch be set, Or by the breake of day disguis'd from hence, Soiourne in
Mantua,
Ile find out your man, And he shall signifie from time to time, Euery good hap to you, that chaunces heere: Giue me thy hand, 'tis late, farewell, goodnight.
But that a ioy past ioy, calls out on me, It were a griefe, so briefe to part with thee: Farewell.
Exeunt.
Enter old Capulet, his Wife and Paris.
Things haue falne out sir so vnluckily, That we haue had no time to moue our Daughter: Looke you, she Lou'd her kinsman
Tybalt
dearely, And so did I. Well, we were borne to die. 'Tis very late, she'l not come downe to night: I promise you, but for your company, I would haue bin
a
bed an houre ago.
These times of wo, affoord no times to wooe: Madam goodnight, commend me to your Daughter.
I will, and know her mind early to morrow, To night, she is mewed vp to her heauinesse.
Sir
Paris,
I will make a desperate tender Of my Childes loue: I thinke she will be rul'd In all respects by me: nay more, I doubt it not. Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed, Acquaint her here, of my Sonne
Paris
Loue, And bid her, marke you me, on Wendsday next, But soft, what day is this?
Monday my Lord.
Monday, ha ha: well Wendsday is too soone,
A
Thursday let it be:
a
Thursday tell her, She shall be married to this Noble Earle: Will you be ready? do you like this
hast
? Weele keepe no great adoe, a Friend or two, For harke you,
Tybalt
being slaine so late, It may be thought we held him carelesly, Being our kinsman, if we reuell much: Therefore weele haue some halfe a dozen Friends, And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?
My Lord, I would that Thursday were to morrow.
Well, get you gone,
a
Thursday, be it then: Go you to
Iuliet
ere you go to bed, Prepare her wife, against this wedding day. Farewell my Lord, light to my Chamber hoa, Afore me, it is so late, that we may call it early
by
and by, Goodnight.
Exeunt.
Enter Romeo and Iuliet aloft.
Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet neere day: It was the Nightingale, and not the Larke, That pier'st the fearefull hollow of thine eare, Nightly she sings on yond Pomgranet tree, Beleeue me Loue, it was the Nightingale.
It was the Larke the Herauld of the Morne: No Nightingale: looke Loue what enuious streakes Do lace the seuering Cloudes in yonder East: Nights Candles are burnt out, and Iocond day Stands tipto on the mistie Mountaines tops, I must be gone and liue, or stay and die.
Yond light is not daylight, I know it I: It is some Meteor that the Sun exhales, To be to thee this night a Torch-bearer, And light thee on thy way to
Mantua.
Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not be gone,
Let me be tane, let me be put to death, I am content, so thou wilt haue it so. Ile say yon gray is not the mornings eye, 'Tis but the pale reflexe of
Cinthias
brow. Nor that is not Larke whose noates do beate The vaulty heauen so high aboue our heads, I haue more care to stay, then
will
to go: Come death and welcome,
Iuliet
wills it so. How ist my soule, lets talke, it is not day.
It is, it is, hie hence be gone away: It is the Larke that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh Discords, and vnpleasing Sharpes. Some say the Larke makes sweete Diuision; This doth not so: for she diuideth vs. Some say, the Larke and loathed Toad change eyes, O now I would they had chang'd voyces too: Since arme from arme that voyce doth vs affray, Hunting thee hence, with Hunts-vp to the day, O now be gone, more light and it light growes.
More light & light, more darke & darke our woes.
Enter Madam and Nurse.
Madam.
Nurse.
Your Lady Mother is comming to your chamber, The day is broke, be wary, looke about.
Then window let day in, and let life out.
Farewell, farewell, one kisse and Ile descend.
Art thou gone so? Loue, Lord, ay Husband, Friend, I must heare from thee euery day in the houre, For in a minute there are many dayes, O by this count I shall be much in yeares, Ere I againe behold my
Romeo.
Farewell: I will omit no oportunitie, That may conuey my greetings Loue, to thee.
O thinkest thou we shall euer meet againe?
I doubt it not, and all these woes shall serue For sweet discourses in our time to come.
O God! I haue an
ill
Diuining soule, Me thinkes I see thee now, thou art so lowe, As one dead in the bottome of a Tombe, Either my eye-sight failes, or thou look'st pale.
And trust me Loue, in my eye so do you: Drie sorrow drinkes our blood. Adue, adue.
Exit.
O Fortune, Fortune, all men call thee fickle, If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him That is renown'd for faith? be fickle Fortune: For then I hope thou wilt not keepe him long, But send him backe.
Enter Mother.
Ho Daughter, are you vp?
Who ist that calls? Is it my Lady Mother. Is she not downe so late, or vp so early? What vnaccustom'd cause procures her hither?
Why how now
Iuliet
?
Madam I am not well.
Euermore weeping for your Cozins death? What wilt thou wash him from his graue with teares?
And
if thou could'st, thou could'st not make him liue: Therefore haue done, some griefe shewes much of Loue, But much of griefe, shewes still some want of wit.
Yet let me weepe, for such a feeling losse.
So shall you feele the losse, but not the Friend Which you weepe for.
Feeling so the losse, I cannot chuse but euer weepe the Friend.
Well Girle, thou weep'st not so much for his death, As that the Villaine liues which slaughter'd him.
What Villaine, Madam?
That same Villaine
Romeo.
Villaine and he, be many miles assunder: God pardon, I doe with all my heart: And yet no man like he, doth grieue my heart.
That is because the Traitor liues.
I
Madam from the reach of these my hands: Would none but I might venge my Cozins death.
We will haue vengeance for it, feare thou not. Then weepe no more, Ile send to one in
Mantua,
Where that same banisht Run-agate doth liue, Shall giue him such an vnaccustom'd dram, That he shall soone keepe
Tybalt
company: And then I hope thou wilt be satisfied.
Indeed I neuer shall be satisfied With
Romeo,
till I behold him. Dead Is my poore heart so for a kinsman vext: Madam, if you could find out but a man To beare a poyson, I would temper it; That
Romeo
should vpon receit thereof, Soone sleepe in quiet. O how my heart abhors To heare him nam'd, and cannot come to him, To wreake the Loue I bore my Cozin, Vpon his body that hath slaughter'd him.
Find thou the meanes, and Ile find such a man. But now Ile tell thee ioyfull tidings Gyrle.
And ioy comes well, in such a needy time, What are they, beseech your Ladyship?
Well, well, thou hast a carefull Father Child? One who to put thee from thy heauinesse, Hath sorted out a sudden day of ioy, That thou expects not, nor I lookt not for.
Madam in happy time, what day is this?
Marry my Child, early next Thursday morne, The gallant, young, and Noble Gentleman, The Countie
Paris
at Saint
Peters
Church, Shall happily make thee a ioyfull Bride.
Now by Saint
Peters
Church, and
Peter
too, He shall not make me there a ioyfull Bride. I wonder at this
hast
, that I must wed Ere he that should be Husband comes to woe: I pray you tell my Lord and Father Madam, I will not marrie yet, and when I doe, I sweare It shall be
Romeo,
whom you know I hate Rather then
Paris.
These are newes indeed.
Here comes your Father, tell him so your selfe, And see how he will take it at your hands.
Enter Capulet and Nurse.
When the Sun sets, the earth doth drizzle deaw But for the Sunset of my Brothers Sonne, It raines downright. How now? A Conduit Gyrle, what still in teares? Euermore showring in one little body? Thou counterfaits a Barke, a Sea, a Wind: For still thy eyes, which I may call the Sea, Do ebbe and flow with teares, the Barke thy body is Sayling in this salt floud, the windes thy sighes, Who raging with the teares and they with them, Without a sudden calme will ouer set Thy tempest tossed body. How now wife? Haue you deliuered to her our decree?
I
sir; But she will none, she giues you thankes, I would the foole were married to her graue.
Soft, take me with you, take me with you wife, How, will she none? doth she not giue vs thanks? Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest, Vnworthy as she is, that we haue wrought So worthy a Gentleman, to be her Bridegroome
Not proud you haue, But thankfull that you haue: Proud can I neuer be of what I haue, But thankfull euen for hate, that is meant Loue.
How now? How now? Chopt Logicke? what is this? Proud, and I thanke you: and I thanke you not. Thanke me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, But fettle your fine ioints 'gainst Thursday next, To go with
Paris
to Saint
Peters
Church: Or I will drag thee, on a Hurdle thither. Out you greene sicknesse carrion, out you baggage, You tallow face.
Fie, fie, what are you mad?
Good Father, I beseech you on my knees Heare me with patience, but to speake a word.
Hang thee young baggage, disobedient wretch, I tell thee what, get thee to Church
a
Thursday, Or neuer after looke me in the face. Speake not, reply not, do not answere me. My fingers itch, wife: we scarce thought vs blest, That God had lent vs but this onely Child, But now I see this one is one too much, And that we haue a curse in hauing her: Out on her Hilding.
God in heauen blesse her, You are
too
blame my Lord to rate her so.
And why my Lady wisedome? hold your tongue, Good Prudence, smatter with your gossip, go.
I speak no treason, Father, O Godigoden, May not one speake?
Peace you mumbling foole, Vtter your grauitie ore a Gossips bowles For here we need it not.
You are too hot.
Gods bread, it makes me mad: Day, night, houre, ride, time, worke, play, Alone in companie, still my care hath bin To haue her matcht, and hauing now prouided A Gentleman of Noble Parentage, Of faire Demeanes, Youthfull, and Nobly Allied, Stuft as they say with Honourable parts, Proportion'd as ones thought would wish a man, And then to haue a wretched puling foole, A whining mammet, in her Fortunes tender, To answer, Ile not wed, I cannot Loue: I am too young, I pray you pardon me. But,
and
you will not wed, Ile pardon you. Graze where you will, you shall not house with me: Looke too't, thinke on't, I do not vse to iest. Thursday is neere, lay hand on heart, aduise,
And
you be mine, Ile giue you to my Friend:
And
you be not, hang, beg, starue, die in the streets, For by my soule, Ile nere acknowledge thee, Nor what is mine shall neuer do thee good: Trust too't, bethinke you, Ile not be forsworne
Exit.
Is there no pittie sitting in the Cloudes, That sees into the bottome of my griefe? O sweet my Mother cast me not away, Delay this marriage, for a month, a weeke, Or if you do not, make the Bridall bed In that dim Monument where
Tybalt
lies.
Talke not to me, for Ile not speake a word, Do as thou wilt, for I haue done with thee.
Exit.
O God! O Nurse, how shall this be preuented? My Husband is on earth, my faith in heauen, How shall that faith returne againe to earth, Vnlesse that Husband send it me from heauen, By leauing earth? Comfort me, counsaile me: Alacke, alacke, that heauen should practise stratagems Vpon so soft a subiect as my selfe. What saist thou? hast thou not a word of ioy? Some comfort Nurse.
Faith here it is,
Romeo
is banished, and all the world to nothing, That he dares nere come backe to challenge you: Or if he do, it needs must be by stealth. Then since the case so stands as now it doth, I thinke it best you married with the Countie, O hee's a Louely Gentleman:
Romeo
s a dish-clout to him: an Eagle Madam Hath not so greene, so quicke, so faire an eye As
Paris
hath, beshrow my very heart, I thinke you are happy in this second match, For it excels your first: or if it did not, Your first is dead, or 'twere as good he were, As liuing here and you no vse of him.
Speakest thou from thy heart?
And from my soule too, Or else beshrew them both.
Amen.
What?
Well, thou hast comforted me marue'lous much, Go in, and tell my Lady I am gone, Hauing displeas'd my Father, to
Lawrence
Cell, To make confession, and to be absolu'd.
Marrie I will, and this is wisely done.
Auncient damnation, O most wicked fiend! It is more sin to wish me thus forsworne, Or to dispraise my Lord with that same tongue Which she hath prais'd him with aboue compare, So many thousand times? Go Counsellor, Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twaine: Ile to the Frier to know his remedie, If all else faile, my selfe haue power to die.
Exeunt.
Enter Frier and Countie Paris.
On Thursday sir? the time is very short.
My Father
Capulet
will haue it so, And I am nothing slow to slack his
hast
.
You say you do not know the Ladies mind? Vneuen is the course, I like it not.
Immoderately she weepes for
Tybalts
death, And therfore haue I little talke of Loue, For
Venus
smiles not in a house of teares. Now sir, her Father counts it dangerous That she doth giue her sorrow so much sway: And in his wisedome, hasts our marriage, To stop the inundation of her teares, Which too much minded by her selfe alone, May be put from her by societie. Now doe you know the reason of this
hast
?
I would I knew not why it should be slow'd. Looke sir, here comes the Lady towards my Cell.
Enter Iuliet.
Happily met, my Lady and my wife.
That may be sir, when I may be a wife.
That may be, must be Loue, on Thursday next.
What must be shall be.
That's a certaine text.
Come you to make confession to this Father?
To answere that, I should confesse to you.
Do not denie to him, that you Loue me.
I will confesse to you that I Loue him.
So will ye, I am sure that you Loue me.
If I do so, it will be of more price, Being spoke behind your backe, then to your face.
Poore soule, thy face is much abus'd with teares.
The teares haue got small victorie by that: For it was bad inough before their spight.
Thou wrong'st it more then teares with that report.
That is no slaunder sir, which is a truth, And what I spake, I spake it to thy face.
Thy face is mine, and thou hast slaundred it.
It may be so, for it is not mine owne. Are you at leisure, Holy Father now, Or shall I come to you at euening Masse?
My leisure serues me pensiue daughter now. My Lord you must intreat the time alone.
Godsheild: I should disturbe Deuotion,
Iuliet
,
on Thursday early will I rowse yee, Till then adue, and keepe this holy kisse.
Exit Paris.
O shut the doore, and when thou hast done so, Come weepe with me, past hope, past care, past helpe.
O
Iuliet,
I alreadie know thy griefe, It streames me past the compasse of my wits: I heare thou must and nothing may prorogue it, On Thursday next be married to this Countie.
Tell me not Frier that thou hearest of this, Vnlesse thou tell me how I may preuent it: If in thy wisedome, thou canst giue no helpe, Do thou but call my resolution wise, And with this knife, Ile helpe it presently. God ioyn'd my heart, and
Romeos,
thou our hands, And ere this hand by thee to
Romeo
seal'd: Shall be the Labell to another Deede, Or my true heart with trecherous reuolt, Turne to another, this shall slay them both: Therefore out of thy long experien'st time, Giue me some present counsell, or behold Twixt my extreames and me, this bloody knife Shall play the vmpeere, arbitrating that, Which the commission of thy yeares and
art
, Could to no issue of true honour bring: Be not so long to speak, I long to die, If what thou speak'st, speake not of remedy.
Hold Daughter, I doe spie a kind of hope, Which craues as desperate an execution, As that is desperate which we would preuent. If rather then to marrie Countie
Paris
Thou hast the strength of
will
to slay thy selfe, Then is it likely thou wilt vndertake A thing like death to chide away this shame, That coap'st with death himselfe, to scape fro it: And if thou dar'st, Ile giue thee remedie.
Oh bid me leape, rather then marrie
Paris,
From
of
the Battlements of any Tower, Or walke in theeuish waies, or bid me lurke Where Serpents are: chaine me with roaring Beares Or hide me nightly in a Charnell house, Orecouered quite with dead mens ratling bones, With reckie shankes and yellow chappels sculls: Or bid me go into a new made graue, And hide me with a dead man in his graue, Things that to heare them told, haue made me tremble, And I will doe it without feare or doubt, To liue an vnstained wife to my sweet Loue.
Hold then: goe home, be merrie, giue consent, To marrie
Paris:
wensday is to morrow, To morrow night looke that thou lie alone, Let not thy Nurse lie with thee in thy Chamber: Take thou this Violl being then in bed, And this distilling liquor drinke thou off, When presently through all thy veines shall run, A cold and drowsie humour: for no pulse Shall keepe his natiue progresse, but surcease: No warmth, no breath shall testifie thou liuest, The Roses in thy lips and cheekes shall fade To many ashes, the eyes windowes fall Like death when he shut vp the day of life: Each part depriu'd of supple gouernment, Shall stiffe and starke, and cold appeare like death, And in this borrowed likenesse of shrunke death Thou shalt continue two and forty houres, And then awake, as from a pleasant sleepe. Now when the Bridegroome in the morning comes, To rowse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead: Then as the manner of our country is, In thy best Robes vncouer'd on the Beere, Be borne to buriall in thy kindreds graue: Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault, Where all the kindred of the
Capulets
lie, In the meane time against thou shalt awake, Shall
Romeo
by my Letters know our drift, And hither shall he come, and that very night Shall
Romeo
beare thee hence to
Mantua.
And this shall free thee from this present shame, If no inconstant toy nor womanish feare, Abate thy valour in the acting it.
Giue me, giue me, O tell me not of care.
Hold get you gone, be strong and prosperous: In this resolue, Ile send a Frier with speed To
Mantua
with my Letters to thy Lord.
Loue giue me strength, And the strength shall helpe afford: Farewell deare father.
Exit
Enter Father Capulet, Mother, Nurse, and Seruing men, two or three.
So many guests inuite as here are writ, Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning Cookes.
You shall haue none
ill
sir, for Ile trie if they can licke their fingers.
How canst thou trie them so?
Marrie sir, 'tis an
ill
Cooke that cannot licke his owne fingers: therefore he that cannot licke his fingers goes not with me.
Go be gone, we shall be much vnfurnisht for this time: what is my Daughter gone to Frier
Lawrence
?
I
forsooth.
Well he may chance to do some good on her, A peeuish selfe-wild harlotry it is.
Enter Iuliet.
See where she comes from shrift With merrie looke.
How now my headstrong, Where haue you bin gadding?
Where I haue learnt me to repent the sin Of disobedient opposition: To you and your behests, and am enioyn'd By holy
Lawrence,
to fall prostrate here, To beg your pardon: pardon I beseech you, Henceforward I am euer rul'd by you.
Send for the Countie, goe tell him of this, Ile haue this knot knit vp to morrow morning.
I met the youthfull Lord at
Lawrence
Cell, And gaue him what becomed Loue I might, Not stepping ore the bounds of modestie.
Why I am glad on't, this is well, stand vp, This is as't should be, let me see the County:
I
marrie go I say, and fetch him hither. Now afore God, this reueren'd holy Frier, All our whole Cittie is much bound to him.
Nurse will you goe with me into my Closet, To helpe me sort such needfull ornaments, As you thinke fit to furnish me to morrow?
No not till Thursday, there's time inough.
Go Nurse, go with her, Weele to Church to morrow.
Exeunt Iuliet and Nurse.
We shall be short in our prouision, 'Tis now neere night.
Tush, I will stirre about, And all things shall be well, I warrant thee wife: Go thou to
Iuliet,
helpe to decke vp her, Ile not to bed to night, let me alone: Ile play the huswife for this once. What ho? They are all forth, well I will walke my selfe To Countie
Paris,
to prepare him vp Against to morrow, my heart is wondrous light, Since this same way-ward Gyrle is so reclaim'd.
Exeunt Father and Mother.
Enter Iuliet and Nurse.
I
those attires are best, but gentle Nurse I pray thee leaue me to my selfe to night: For I haue need of many Orysons, To moue the heauens to smile vpon my state, Which well thou know'st, is crosse and full of sin.
Enter Mother.
What are you busie ho? need you my help?
No Madam, we haue cul'd such necessaries As are behoouefull for our state to morrow: So please you, let me now be left alone; And let the Nurse this night sit vp with you, For I am sure, you haue your hands full all, In this so sudden businesse.
Goodnight. Get thee to bed and rest, for thou hast need.
Exeunt.
Farewell: God knowes when we shall meete againe. I haue a faint cold feare thrills through my veines, That almost freezes vp the heate of fire: Ile call them backe againe to comfort me. Nurse, what should she do here? My dismall Sceane, I needs must act alone: Come Viall, what if this mixture do not worke at all? Shall I be married then to morrow morning? No, no, this shall forbid it. Lie thou there, What if it be a poyson which the Frier Subtilly hath ministred to haue me dead, Least in this marriage he should be dishonour'd, Because he married me before to
Romeo
? I feare it is, and yet me thinkes it should not, For he hath still beene tried a holy man. How, if when I am laid into the Tombe, I wake before the time that
Romeo
Come to redeeme me? There's a fearefull point: Shall I not then be stifled in the Vault? To whose foule mouth no healthsome ayre breaths in, And there die strangled ere my
Romeo
comes. Or if I liue, is it not very like, The horrible conceit of death and night, Together with the terror of the place, As in a Vaulte, an ancient receptacle, Where for these many hundred yeeres the bones Of all my buried Auncestors are packt, Where bloody
Tybalt,
yet but greene in earth, Lies festring in his shrow'd, where as they say, At some houres in the night, Spirits resort: Alacke, alacke, is it not like that I So early waking, what with loathsome smels, And shrikes like Mandrakes torne out of the earth, That liuing mortalls hearing them, run mad. O if I wake, shall I not be distraught, Inuironed with all these hidious feares, And madly play with my forefathers ioynts? And plucke the mangled
Tybalt
from his shrow'd? And in this rage, with some great kinsmans bone, As (with a club) dash out my desperate braines. O looke, me thinks I see my Cozins Ghost, Seeking out
Romeo
that did spit his body Vpon my Rapiers point: stay
Tybalt,
stay;
Romeo
, Romeo, Romeo,
here's drinke: I drinke to thee.
Enter Lady of the house, and Nurse.
Hold, Take these keies, and fetch more spices Nurse.
They call for Dates and Quinces in the Pastrie.
Enter old Capulet.
Come, stir, stir, stir, The second Cocke hath Crow'd, The Curphew Bell hath rung, 'tis three
a
clocke: Looke to the bakte meates, good
Angelica,
Spare not for cost.
Go you Cot-queane, go, Get you to bed, faith youle be sicke to morrow For this nights watching.
No not a whit: what? I haue watcht ere now All night for lesse cause, and nere beene sicke.
I
you haue bin a Mouse-hunt in your time, But I will watch you from such watching now.
Exit Lady and Nurse.
A iealous hood, a iealous hood, Now fellow, what there?
Enter three or foure with spits, and logs, and baskets.
Things for the Cooke sir, but I know not what.
Make
hast
, make
hast
, sirrah, fetch drier Logs. Call
Peter,
he will shew thee where they are.
I haue a head sir, that will find out logs, And neuer trouble
Peter
for the matter.
Masse and well said, a merrie horson, ha, Thou shalt be loggerhead; good Father, 'tis day.
Play Musicke
The Countie will be here with Musicke straight, For so he said he would, I heare him neere, Nurse, wife, what ho? what Nurse I say?
Enter Nurse.
Go waken
Iuliet,
go and trim her vp, Ile go and chat with
Paris:
hie, make
hast
, Make
hast
, the Bridegroome, he is come already: Make
hast
I say.
Mistris, what Mistris?
Iuliet
? Fast I warrant her she. Why Lambe, why Lady? fie you sluggabed, Why Loue I say? Madam, sweet heart: why Bride? What not a word? You take your peniworths now. Sleepe for a weeke, for the next night I warrant The Countie
Paris
hath set vp his rest, That you shall rest but little, God forgiue me: Marrie and Amen: how sound is she
a
sleepe? I must needs wake her: Madam, Madam, Madam,
I
, let the Countie take you in your bed, Heele fright you vp yfaith. Will it not be? What drest, and in your clothes, and downe againe? I must needs wake you: Lady, Lady, Lady? Alas, alas, helpe, helpe, my Ladyes dead, Oh weladay, that euer I was borne, Some Aqua-vitae ho, my Lord, my Lady?
What noise is heere?
Enter Mother.
O lamentable day.
What is the matter?
Looke, looke, oh heauie day.
O me, O me, my Child, my onely life: Reuiue, looke vp, or I will die with thee: Helpe, helpe, call helpe.
Enter Father.
For shame bring
Iuliet
forth, her Lord is come.
Shee's dead: deceast, shee's dead: alacke the day.
Alacke the day, shee's dead, shee's dead, shee's dead.
Ha? Let me see her: out alas shee's cold, Her blood is setled and her ioynts are stiffe: Life and these lips haue long bene seperated: Death lies on her like an vntimely frost Vpon the swetest flower of all the field.
O Lamentable day!
O wofull time.
Death that hath tane her hence to make me waile, Ties vp my tongue, and will not let me speake.
Enter Frier and the Countie.
Come, is the Bride ready to go to Church?
Ready to go, but neuer to returne. O Sonne, the night before thy wedding day, Hath death laine with thy wife: there she lies, Flower as she was, deflowred by him. Death is my Sonne in law, death is my Heire, My Daughter he hath wedded. I will die, And leaue him all life liuing, all is deaths.
Haue I thought long to see this mornings face, And doth it giue me such a sight as this?
Accur'st, vnhappie, wretched hatefull day, Most miserable houre, that ere time saw In lasting labour of his Pilgrimage. But one, poore one, one poore and louing Child, But one thing to reioyce and solace in, And cruell death hath catcht it from my sight.
O wo, O wofull, wofull, wofull day, Most lamentable day, most wofull day, That euer, euer, I did yet behold. O day, O day, O day, O hatefull day, Neuer was seene so blacke a day as this: O wofull day, O wofull day.
Beguild, diuorced, wronged, spighted, slaine, Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd, By cruell, cruell thee, quite ouerthrowne: O loue, O life; not life, but loue in death.
Despis'd, distressed, hated, martir'd, kil'd, Vncomfortable time, why cam'st thou now To murther, murther our solemnitie? O Child, O Child; my soule, and not my Child, Dead art thou, alacke my Child is dead, And with my Child, my ioyes are buried.
Peace ho for shame, confusions: Care liues not In these confusions, heauen and your selfe Had part in this faire Maid, now heauen hath all, And all the better is it for the Maid: Your part in her, you could not keepe from death, But heauen keepes his part in eternall life: The most you sought was her promotion, For 'twas your heauen, she shouldst be aduan'st, And weepe ye now, seeing she is aduan'st Aboue the Cloudes, as high as Heauen it selfe? O in this loue, you loue your Child so
ill
, That you run mad, seeing that she is well: Shee's not well married, that liues married long, But shee's best married, that dies married yong. Drie vp your teares, and sticke your Rosemarie On this faire Coarse, and as the custome is, And in her best array beare her to Church: For though some Nature bids all vs lament, Yet Natures teares are Reasons merriment.
All things that we ordained Festiuall, Turne from their office to blacke Funerall: Our instruments to melancholy Bells, Our wedding cheare, to a sad buriall Feast: Our solemne Hymnes, to sullen Dyrges change: Our Bridall flowers serue for a buried Coarse: And all things change them to the contrarie.
Sir go you in; and Madam, go with him, And go sir
Paris,
euery one prepare To follow this faire Coarse vnto her graue: The heauens do lowre vpon you, for some
ill
: Moue them no more, by crossing their high
will
.
Exeunt
Faith we may put vp our Pipes and be gone.
Honest goodfellowes: Ah put vp, put vp, For well you know, this is a pitifull case.
I
by my troth, the case may be amended.
Enter Peter.
Musitions, oh Musitions, Hearts ease, hearts ease, O,
and
you will haue me liue, play hearts ease.
Why hearts ease;
O Musitions, Because my heart it selfe plaies, my heart is full.
Not a dump we, 'tis no time to play now.
You will not then?
No.
I will then giue it you soundly.
What will you giue vs?
No money on my faith, but the gleeke. I will giue you the Minstrell.
Then will I giue you the Seruing creature.
Then will I lay the seruing Creatures Dagger on your pate. I will carie no Crochets, Ile Re you, Ile Fa you, do you note me?
And
you Re vs, and Fa vs, you Note vs.
Pray you put vp your Dagger, And put out your wit. Then haue at you with my wit.
I will drie-beate you with an yron wit, And put vp my yron Dagger. Answere me like men: When griping griefes the heart doth wound, then Mu- sicke with her siluer sound. Why siluer sound? why Musicke with her siluer sound? what say you
Simon Catling
?
Mary sir, because siluer hath a sweet sound.
Pratest, what say you
Hugh Rebicke
?
I say siluer sound, because Musitions sound for sil
uer
Pratest
to
, what say you
Iames Sound-Post
?
Faith I know not what to say.
O I cry you mercy, you are the Singer. I will say for you; it is Musicke with her siluer sound, Because Musitions haue no gold for sounding: Then Musicke with her siluer sound, with speedy helpe doth lend redresse.
Exit.
What a pestilent knaue is this same?
Hang him Iacke, come weele in here, tarrie for the Mourners, and stay dinner.
Exit.
Enter Romeo.
If I may trust the flattering truth of sleepe, My dreames presage some ioyfull newes at hand: My bosomes L[ord]. sits lightly in his throne: And all this day an vnaccustom'd spirit, Lifts me aboue the ground with cheerefull thoughts. I dreamt my Lady came and found me dead, (Strange dreame that giues a dead man leaue to thinke,) And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips, That I reuiu'd and was an Emperour. Ah me, how sweet is loue it selfe possest, When but loues shadowes are so rich in ioy.
Enter Romeo's man.
Newes from
Verona,
how now
Balthazer
? Dost thou not bring me Letters from the Frier? How doth my Lady? Is my Father well? How doth my Lady
Iuliet
? that I aske againe, For nothing can be
ill
, is she be well.
Then she is well, and nothing can be
ill
. Her body sleepes in
Capels
Monument, And her immortall part with Angels liue, I saw her laid low in her kindreds Vault, And presently tooke Poste to tell it you: O pardon me for bringing these
ill
newes, Since you did leaue it for my office Sir.
Is it euen so? Then I denie you Starres. Thou knowest my lodging, get me inke and paper, And hire Post-Horses, I will hence to night.
I do beseech you sir, haue patience: Your lookes are pale and wild, and do import Some misaduenture.
Tush, thou art deceiu'd, Leaue me, and do the thing I bid thee do. Hast thou no Letters to me from the Frier?
No my good Lord.
Exit Man.
No matter: Get thee gone, And hyre those Horses, Ile be with thee straight, Well
Iuliet,
I will lie with thee to night: Lets see for meanes, O mischiefe thou art swift, To enter in the thoughts of desperate men: I do remember an Appothecarie, And here abouts dwells, which late I noted In tattred weeds, with ouerwhelming browes, Culling of Simples, meager were his lookes, Sharp miserie had worne him to the bones: And in his needie shop a Tortoyrs hung, An Allegater stuft, and other skins Of
ill
shap'd fishes, and about his shelues, A beggerly account of emptie boxes , Greene earthen pots, Bladders, and mustie seedes, Remnants of packthred, and old cakes of Roses Were thinly scattered, to make vp a shew. Noting this penury, to my selfe I said,
An
if a man did need a poyson now, Whose sale is present death in
Mantua,
Here liues a Caitiffe wretch would sell it him. O this same thought did but fore-run my need, And this same needie man must sell it me. As I remember, this should be the house, Being holy day, the beggers shop is shut. What ho? Appothecarie?
Enter Appothecarie.
Who call's so low'd?
Come hither man, I see that thou art poore, Hold, there is fortie Duckets, let me haue A dram of poyson, such soone speeding geare, As will disperse it selfe through all the veines, That the life-wearie-taker may fall dead, And that the Trunke may be discharg'd of breath, As violently, as hastie powder fier'd Doth hurry from the fatall Canons wombe.
Such mortall drugs I haue, but
Mantuas
law Is death to any
he
, that vtters them.
Art thou so bare and full of wretchednesse, And fear'st to die? Famine is in thy cheekes, Need and opression starueth in thy eyes, Contempt and beggery hangs vpon thy backe: The world is not thy friend, nor the worlds law: The world affords no law to make thee rich. Then be not poore, but breake it, and take this.
My pouerty, but not my
will
consents.
I pray thy pouerty, and not thy
will
.
Put this in any liquid thing you will And drinke it off, and if you had the strength Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight.
There's thy Gold, Worse poyson to mens soules, Doing more murther in this loathsome world, Then these poore compounds that thou maiest not sell. I sell thee poyson, thou hast sold me none, Farewell, buy food, and get thy selfe in flesh. Come Cordiall, and not poyson, go with me To
Iuliets
graue, for there must I vse thee.
Exeunt.
Enter Frier Iohn to Frier Lawrence.
Holy
Franciscan
Frier, Brother, ho?
Enter Frier Lawrence.
This same should be the voice of Frier
Iohn.
Welcome from
Mantua,
what sayes
Romeo
? Or if his mind be writ, giue me his Letter.
Going to find a bare-foote Brother out, One of our order to associate me, Here in this Citie visiting the sick, And finding him, the Searchers of the Towne Suspecting that we both were in a house Where the infectious pestilence did raigne, Seal'd vp the doores, and would not let vs forth, So that my speed to
Mantua
there was staid.
Who bare my Letter then to
Romeo
?
I could not send it, here it is againe, Nor get a messenger to bring it thee, So fearefull were they of infection.
Vnhappie Fortune: by my Brotherhood The Letter was not nice; but full of charge, Of deare import; and the neglecting it May do much danger: Frier
Iohn
go hence, Get me an Iron Crow, and bring it straight Vnto my Cell.
Brother Ile go and bring it thee.
Exit.
Now must I to the Monument alone, Within this three houres will faire
Iuliet
wake, Shee will beshrew me much that
Romeo
Hath had no notice of these accidents: But I will write againe to
Mantua,
And keepe her at my Cell till
Romeo
come, Poore liuing Coarse, clos'd in a dead mans Tombe,
Exit.
Enter Paris and his Page.
Giue me thy Torch Boy, hence and stand aloft, Yet put it out, for I would not be seene: Vnder yond young Trees lay thee all along, Holding thy eare close to the hollow ground, So shall no foot vpon the Churchyard tread, Being loose, vnfirme with digging vp of Graues, But thou shalt heare it: whistle then to me, As signall that thou hearest some thing approach, Giue me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.
I am almost afraid to stand alone Here in the Churchyard, yet I will aduenture.
Sweet Flower with flowers thy Bridall bed I strew: O woe, thy Canopie is dust and stones, Which with sweet water nightly I will dewe, Or wanting that, with teares destil'd by mones; The obsequies that I for thee will keepe, Nightly shall be, to strew thy graue, and weepe.
Whistle Boy.
The Boy giues warning, something doth approach, What cursed foot wanders this wayes to night, To crosse my obsequies, and true loues right? What with a Torch? Muffle me night
a
while.
Enter Romeo, and Peter.
Giue me that Mattocke, & the wrenching Iron, Hold take this Letter, early in the morning See thou deliuer it to my Lord and Father, Giue me the light; vpon thy life I charge thee, What ere thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloofe, And do not interrupt me in my course. Why I descend into this bed of death, Is partly to behold my Ladies face: But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger, A precious Ring, a Ring that I must vse, In deare employment, therefore hence be gone: But if thou iealous dost returne to prie In what I further shall intend to do, By heauen I will teare thee ioynt by ioynt, And strew this hungry Churchyard with thy limbs: The time, and my intents are sauage wilde: More fierce and more inexorable farre, Them emptie Tygers, or the roaring Sea.
I will be gone sir, and not trouble you
So shalt thou shew me friendship: take thou that, Liue and be prosperous, and farewell good fellow.
For all this same, Ile hide me here about, His lookes I feare, and his intents I doubt.
Thou detestable mawe, thou wombe of death, Gorg'd with the dearest morsell of the earth: Thus I enforce thy rotten Iawes to open, And in despight, Ile cram thee with more food.
This is that banisht haughtie
Mountague,
That murdred my Loues Cozin; with which griefe, It is supposed the faire Creature died, And here is come to do some villanous shame To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him. Stop thy vnhallowed toyle, vile
Mountague:
Can vengeance be pursued further then death? Condemned villaine, I do apprehend thee. Obey and go with me, for thou must die,
I must indeed, and therfore came I hither: Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man, Flie hence and leaue me, thinke vpon those gone, Let them affright thee. I beseech thee Youth, Put not an other sin vpon my head, By vrging me to furie. O be gone, By heauen I loue thee better then my selfe, For I come hither arm'd against my selfe: Stay not, be gone, liue, and hereafter say, A mad mans mercy bid thee run away.
I do defie thy commisseration, And apprehend thee for a Fellon here.
Wilt thou prouoke me? Then haue at thee Boy.
O Lord they fight, I will go call the Watch.
O I am slaine, if thou be mercifull, Open the Tombe, lay me with
Iuliet.
In faith I will, let me peruse this face:
Mercutius
kinsman, Noble Countie
Paris,
What said my man, when my betossed soule Did not attend him as we rode? I thinke He told me
Paris
should haue married
Iuliet.
Said he not so? Or did I dreame it so? Or am I mad, hearing him talke of
Iuliet,
To thinke it was so? O giue me thy hand, One, writ with me in sowre misfortunes booke. Ile burie thee in a triumphant graue. A Graue; O no, a Lanthorne; slaughtred Youth: For here lies
Iuliet,
and her beautie makes This Vault a feasting presence full of light. Death lie thou there, by a dead man inter'd, How oft when men are at the point of death, Haue they beene merrie? Which their Keepers call A lightning before death? Oh how may I Call this a lightning? O my Loue, my Wife, Death that hath suckt the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet vpon thy Beautie: Thou are not conquer'd: Beauties ensigne yet Is Crymson in thy lips, and in thy cheekes, And Deaths pale flag is not aduanced there.
Tybalt,
ly'st thou there in thy bloudy sheet? O what more fauour can I do to thee, Then with that hand that cut thy youth in twaine, To sunder his that was thy enemie? Forgiue me Cozen. Ah deare
Iuliet:
Why art thou yet so faire? I will beleeue, Shall I beleeue, that vnsubstantiall death is amorous? And that the leane abhorred Monster keepes Thee here in darke to be his Paramour? For feare of that, I still will stay with thee, And neuer from this Pallace of dym night Depart againe: come lie thou in my armes, Heere's to thy health, where ere thou tumblest in. O true Appothecarie! Thy drugs are quicke. Thus with a kisse I die. Depart againe; here, here will I remaine, With Wormes that are thy Chambermaides: O here Will I set vp my euerlasting rest: And shake the yoke of inauspicious starres From this world-wearied flesh: Eyes looke your last: Armes take your last embrace: And lips, O you The doores of breath, seale with a righteous kisse A datelesse bargaine to ingrossing death: Come bitter conduct, come vnsauory guide, Thou desperate Pilot, now at once run on The dashing Rocks, thy Sea-sicke wearie Barke: Heere's to my Loue. O true Appothecary: Thy drugs are quicke. Thus with a kisse I die.
Enter Frier with a Lanthorne, Crow, and Spade.
St. Francis be my speed, how oft to night Haue my old feet stumbled at graues? Who's there?
Here's one, a Friend, & one that knowes you well.
Blisse be vpon you. Tell me good my Friend What Torch is yond that vainely lends his light To grubs, and eyelesse Sculles? As I discerne, It burneth in the
Capels
Monument.
It doth so holy sir, And there's my Master, one that you loue.
Who is it?
Romeo.
How long hath he bin there?
Full halfe an houre.
Go with me to the Vault.
I dare not Sir. My Master knowes not but I am gone hence, And fearefully did menace me with death, If I did stay to looke on his entents.
Stay, then Ile go alone, feares comes vpon me. O much I feare some
ill
vnluckie thing.
As I did sleepe vnder this young tree here, I dreamt my maister and another fought, And that my Maister slew him.
Romeo.
Alacke, alacke, what blood is this which staines The stony entrance of this Sepulcher? What meane these Masterlesse, and goarie Swords To lie discolour'd by this place of peace?
Romeo
,
oh pale: who else? what
Paris
too? And steept in blood? Ah what an vnkind houre Is guiltie of this lamentable chance? The Lady stirs.
O comfortable Frier, where's my Lord? I do remember well where I should be: And there I am, where is my
Romeo
?
I heare some noyse Lady, come from that nest Of death, contagion, and vnnaturall sleepe, A greater power then we can contradict Hath thwarted our entents, come, come away, Thy husband in thy bosome there lies dead: And
Paris
too: come Ile dispose of thee, Among a Sisterhood of holy Nunnes: Stay not to question, for the watch is comming. Come, go good
Iuliet,
I dare no longer stay.
Exit.
Go get thee hence, for I will not away, What's here, A cup clos'd in my true loues hand? Poyson I see hath bin his timelesse end O churle, drinke all? and left no friendly drop, To helpe me after, I will kisse thy lips, Happlie some poyson yet doth hang on them, To make me die with a restoratiue. Thy lips are warme.
Enter Boy and Watch.
Lead Boy, which way?
Yea noise? Then ile be briefe. O happy Dagger. 'Tis in thy sheath, there rust and let me die.
Kils herselfe.
This is the place, There where the Torch doth burne
The ground is bloody, Search about the Churchyard. Go some of you, who ere you find attach. Pittifull sight, here lies the Countie slaine, And
Iuliet
bleeding, warme and newly dead Who here hath laine these two dayes buried. Go tell the Prince, runne to the
Capulets,
Raise vp the
Mountagues,
some others search, We see the ground whereon these woes do lye, But the true ground of all these piteous woes, We cannot without circumstance descry.
Enter Romeo's man.
Here's
Romeo's
man, We found him in the Churchyard.
Hold him in safety, till the Prince come hither.
Enter Frier, and another Watchman.
Here is a Frier that trembles, sighes, and weepes We tooke this Mattocke and this Spade from him, As he was comming from this Church-yard side.
A great suspition, stay the Frier too.
Enter the Prince.
What misaduenture is so earely vp, That calls our person from our mornings rest?
Enter Capulet and his Wife.
What should it be that they so shrike abroad?
O the people in the streete crie
Romeo.
Some
Iuliet,
and some
Paris,
and all runne With open outcry toward our Monument.
What feare is this which startles in your eares?
Soueraigne, here lies the Countie
Paris
slaine, And
Romeo
dead, and
Iuliet
dead before, Warme and new kil'd.
Search, Seeke, and know how, this foule murder comes.
Here is a Frier, and Slaughter'd
Romeos
man, With Instruments vpon them fit to open These dead mens Tombes.
O heauen! O wife looke how our Daughter bleedes! This Dagger hath mistaine, for loe his house Is empty on the backe of
Mountague,
And is misheathed in my Daughters bosome.
O me, this sight of death, is as a Bell That warnes my old age to a Sepulcher.
Enter Mountague.
Come
Mountague,
for thou art early vp To see thy Sonne and Heire, now early downe.
Alas my liege, my wife is dead to night, Griefe of my Sonnes exile hath stopt her breath: What further woe conspires against my age?
Looke: and thou shalt see.
O thou vntaught, what manners is in this, To presse before thy Father to a graue?
Seale vp the mouth of outrage for
a
while, Till we can cleare these ambiguities, And know their spring, their head, their true descent, And then I will be generall of your woes, And lead you euen to death? meane time forbeare, And let mischance be slaue to patience, Bring forth the parties of suspition.
I am the greatest, able to doe least, Yet most suspected as the time and place Doth make against me of this direfull murther: And heere I stand both to impeach and purge My selfe condemned, and my selfe excus'd.
Then say at once, what thou dost know in this?
I will be briefe, for my short date of breath Is not so long as is a tedious tale.
Romeo
there dead, was husband to that
Iuliet,
And she there dead, that's
Romeos
faithfull wife:
I married them; and their stolne marriage day Was
Tybalts
Doomesday: whose vntimely death Banish'd the new-made Bridegroome from this Citie: For whom (and not for
Tybalt
)
Iuliet
pinde. You, to remoue that siege of Greefe from her, Betroth'd, and would haue married her perforce To Countie
Paris.
Then comes she to me, And (with wilde lookes) bid me deuise some meanes To rid her from this second Marriage, Or in my Cell there would she kill her selfe. Then gaue I her (so Tutor'd by my Art) A sleeping Potion, which so tooke effect As I intended, for it wrought on her The forme of death. Meane time, I writ to
Romeo,
That he should hither come, as this dyre night, To helpe to take her from her borrowed graue, Being the time the Potions force should cease. But he which bore my Letter, Frier
Iohn,
Was stay'd by accident; and yesternight Return'd my Letter backe. Then all alone, At the prefixed houre of her waking, Came I to take her from her Kindreds vault, Meaning to keepe her closely at my Cell, Till I conueniently could send to
Romeo.
But when I came (some Minute ere the time Of her awaking) heere vntimely lay The Noble
THE TEMPEST.
Actus primus, Scena prima.
A tempestuous noise of Thunder and Lightning heard: En- ter a Ship-master, and a Boteswaine.
Bote-swaine.
Heere Master: What cheere?
Good: Speake to th' Mariners: fall too't, yarely, or we run our selues
a
ground, bestirre, bestirre.
Exit.
Enter Mariners.
Heigh my hearts, cheerely, cheerely my harts:
yare
,
yare
: Take in the toppe-sale: Tend to th' Masters whistle: Blow till thou burst thy winde, if roome e- nough.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Ferdinando, Gonzalo, and others.
Good Boteswaine haue care: where's the Ma- ster? Play the men.
I pray now keepe below.
Where is the Master, Boson?
Do you not heare him? you marre our labour, Keepe your Cabines: you do assist the storme.
Nay, good be patient.
When the Sea is: hence, what cares these roa- rers for the name of King? to Cabine; silence: trouble vs not.
Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboord.
None that I more loue then my selfe. You are a Counsellor, if you can command these Elements to si- lence, and worke the peace of the present, wee will not hand a rope more, vse your authoritie: If you cannot, giue thankes you haue liu'd so long, and make your selfe readie in your Cabine for the mischance of the houre, if it so hap. Cheerely good hearts: out of our way I say.
Exit.
I haue great comfort from this fellow: methinks he hath no drowning marke vpon him, his complexion is perfect Gallowes: stand fast good Fate to his han- ging, make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our owne doth little aduantage: If he be not borne to bee hang'd, our case is miserable.
Exit.
Enter Boteswaine.
Downe with the top-Mast:
yare
, lower, lower, bring her to Try with Maine-course. A plague ——
A cry within. Enter Sebastian, Anthonio & Gonzalo.
vpon this howling: they are lowder then the weather, or our office: yet againe? What do you heere? Shal we giue ore and drowne, haue you a minde to sinke?
A poxe o'your throat, you bawling, blasphe- mous incharitable Dog.
Worke you then.
Hang cur, hang, you whoreson insolent Noyse-maker, we are lesse afraid to be drownde, then thou art.
I'le warrant him for drowning, though the Ship were no stronger then a Nutt-shell, and as leaky as an vnstanched wench.
Lay her
a
hold,
a
hold, set her two courses off to Sea againe, lay her off.
Enter Mariners wet.
All lost, to prayers, to prayers, all lost.
What must our mouths be cold?
The King, and Prince, at prayers, let's assist them, for our case is as theirs.
I'am out of patience.
We are meerly cheated of our liues by drunkards, This wide-chopt-rascall, would thou mightst lye drow- ning the washing of ten Tides.
Hee'l be hang'd yet, Though euery drop of water sweare against it, And gape at widst to glut him.
A confused noyse within.
Mercy on vs. We split, we split, Farewell my wife, and children, Farewell brother: we split, we split, we split.
Let's all sinke with' King
Let's take leaue of him.
Exit.
Now would I giue a thousand furlongs of Sea, for an Acre of barren ground: Long heath, Browne firrs, any thing; the wills aboue be done, but I would faine dye a dry death.
Exit.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Prospero and Miranda.
If by your
Art
(my deerest father) you haue Put the wild waters in this Rore; alay them: The skye it seemes would powre down stinking pitch, But that the Sea, mounting to th' welkins cheeke, Dashes the fire out. Oh! I haue suffered With those that I saw suffer: A braue vessell
(Who had no doubt some noble creature in her) Dash'd all to peeces: O the cry did knocke Against my very heart: poore soules, they perish'd. Had I byn any God of power, I would Haue suncke the Sea within the Earth, or ere It should the good Ship so haue swallow'd, and The fraughting Soules within her.
Be collected, No more amazement: Tell your pitteous heart there's no harme done.
O woe, the day.
No harme: I haue done nothing, but in care of thee (Of thee my deere one; thee my daughter) who Art ignorant of what thou art. naught knowing Of whence I am: nor that I am more better Then
Prospero,
Master of a full poore cell, And thy no greater Father.
More to know Did neuer medle with my thoughts.
'Tis time I should informe thee farther: Lend thy hand And plucke my Magick garment from me: So, Lye there my
Art
: wipe thou thine eyes, haue comfort, The direfull spectacle of the wracke which touch'd The very vertue of compassion in thee: I haue with such prouision in mine
Art
So safely ordered, that there is no soule No not so much perdition as an hayre Betid to any creature in the vessell Which thou heardst cry, which thou saw'st sinke: Sit
downe
, For thou must now know farther.
You haue often Begun to tell me what I am, but stopt And left me to a bootelesse Inquisition, Concluding, stay: not yet.
The howr's now come The very minute byds thee ope thine eare, Obey, and be attentiue. Canst thou remember A time before we came vnto this Cell? I doe not thinke thou canst, for then thou was't not Out three yeeres old.
Certainely Sir, I can.
By what? by any other house, or person? Of any thing the Image, tell me, that Hath kept with thy remembrance.
'Tis farre off: And rather like a dreame, then an assurance That my remembrance warrants: Had I not Fowre, or fiue women once, that tended me?
Thou hadst; and more
Miranda:
But how is it That this liues in thy minde? What seest thou els In the dark-backward and Abisme of Time? Yf thou remembrest ought ere thou cam'st here, How thou cam'st here thou maist.
But that I doe not.
Twelue yere since (
Miranda
) twelue yere since, Thy father was the Duke of
Millaine
and A Prince of power:
Sir, are not you my Father?
Thy Mother was a peece of vertue, and She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father Was Duke of
Millaine,
and his onely heire, And Princesse; no worse Issued.
O the heauens, What fowle play had we, that we came from thence? Or blessed
was
't we did?
Both, both my Girle. By fowle-play (as thou saist) were we heau'd thence, But blessedly holpe hither.
O my heart bleedes To thinke oth' teene that I haue turn'd you to, Which is from my remembrance, please you, farther;
My brother and thy vncle, call'd
Anthonio:
I pray thee marke me, that a brother should Be so perfidious: he, whom next thy selfe Of all the world I lou'd, and to him put The mannage of my state, as at that time Through all the signories it was the first, And
Prospero,
the prime Duke, being so reputed In dignity; and for the liberall Artes, Without a paralell; those being all my studie, The Gouernment I cast vpon my brother, And to my State grew stranger, being transported And rapt in secret studies, thy false vncle (Do'st thou attend me?)
Sir, most heedefully.
Being once perfected how to graunt suites, how to deny them: who t' aduance, and who To trash for ouer-topping; new created The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd 'em, Or els new form'd 'em; hauing both the key, Of Officer, and office, set all hearts i'th state To what tune pleas'd his eare, that now he was The Iuy which had hid my princely Trunck, And suckt my verdure out on't: Thou attend'st not?
O good Sir, I doe.
I pray thee marke me: I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closenes, and the bettering of my mind with that, which but by being so retir'd Ore-priz'd all popular rate: in my false brother Awak'd an euill nature, and my trust Like a good parent, did beget of him A falsehood in it's contrarie, as great As my trust was, which had indeede no limit, A confidence sans bound. He being thus Lorded, Not onely with what my reuenew yeelded, But what my power might els exact. Like one Who hauing into truth, by telling of it, Made such a synner of his memorie To credite his owne lie, he did beleeue He was indeed the Duke, out o'th' Substitution And executing th' outward face of Roialtie With all prerogatiue: hence his Ambition growing: Do'st thou heare ?
Your tale, Sir, would cure deafenesse.
To haue no Schreene between this part he plaid, And him he plaid it for, he needes will be Absolute
Millaine,
Me (poore man) my Librarie Was Dukedome large enough: of temporall roalties He thinks me now incapable. Confederates (so drie he was for Sway) with King of
Naples
To giue him Annuall tribute, doe him homage Subiect his Coronet, to his Crowne and bend The Dukedom yet vnbow'd (alas poore
Millaine
) To most ignoble stooping.
Oh the heauens:
Marke his condition, and th' euent, then tell me If this might be a brother.
I should sinne To thinke but Noblie of my Grand-mother,
Good wombes haue borne bad sonnes.
Now the Condition. This King of
Naples
being an Enemy To me inueterate, hearkens my Brothers suit, Which was, That he in lieu o'th' premises, Of homage, and I know not how much Tribute, Should presently extirpate me and mine Out of the Dukedome, and confer faire
Millaine
With all the Honors, on my brother: Whereon A treacherous Armie leuied, one mid-night Fated to th' purpose, did
Anthonio
open The gates of
Millaine,
and ith' dead of darkenesse The ministers for th' purpose hurried thence Me, and thy crying selfe.
Alack, for pitty: I not remembring how I cride out then Will cry it ore againe: it is a hint That wrings mine eyes too't.
Heare a little further, And then I'le bring thee to the present businesse Which now's vpon's: without the which, this Story Were most impertinent.
Wherefore did they not That howre destroy vs?
Well demanded, wench: My Tale prouokes that question: Deare, they durst not, So deare the loue my people bore me: nor set A marke so bloudy on the businesse; but With colours fairer, painted their foule ends. In few, they hurried vs a-boord a Barke, Bore vs some Leagues to Sea, where they prepared A rotten carkasse of a Butt, not rigg'd, Nor tackle, sayle, nor mast, the very rats Instinctiuely haue quit it: There they hoyst vs To cry to th' Sea, that roard to vs; to sigh To th' windes, whose pitty sighing backe againe Did vs but louing wrong.
Alack, what trouble Was I then to you?
O, a Cherubin Thou
was
't that did preserue me; Thou didst smile, Infused with a fortitude from heauen, When I haue deck'd the sea with drops full salt, Vnder my burthen groan'd, which rais'd in me An vndergoing stomacke, to beare vp Against what should ensue.
How came we
a
shore?
By prouidence diuine, Some food, we had, and some fresh water, that A noble
Neopolitan Gonzalo
Out of his Charity, (who being then appointed Master of this designe) did giue vs, with Rich garments, linnens, stuffs, and necessaries Which since haue steeded much, so of his gentlenesse Knowing I lou'd my bookes, he furnishd me From mine owne Library, with volumes, that I prize aboue my Dukedome.
Would I might But euer see that man.
Now I arise, Sit still, and heare the last of our sea-sorrow: Heere in this Iland we arriu'd, and heere Haue I, thy Schoolemaster, made thee more profit Then other Princesse can, that haue more time For vainer howres; and Tutors, not so carefull.
Heuens thank you for't. And now I pray you Sir, For still 'tis beating in my minde; your reason For raysing this Sea-storme?
Know thus far forth, By accident most strange, bountifull
Fortune
(Now my deere Lady) hath mine enemies Brought to this shore: And by my prescience I finde my
Zenith
doth depend vpon A most auspitious starre, whose influence If now I court not, but omit; my fortunes Will euer after droope: Heare cease more questions, Thou art inclinde to sleepe: 'tis a good dulnesse, And giue it way: I know thou canst not chuse: Come away, Seruant, come; I am ready now, Approach my
Ariel.
Come.
Enter Ariel.
All haile, great Master, graue Sir, haile: I come To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly, To swim, to diue into the fire: to ride On the curld clowds: to thy strong bidding, taske
Ariel,
and all his Qualitie.
Hast thou, Spirit, Performd to point, the Tempest that I
bad
thee.
To euery Article. I boorded the Kings ship: now on the Beake, Now in the Waste, the Decke, in euery Cabyn, I flam'd amazement, sometime I'ld diuide And burne in many places; on the Top-mast, The Yards and Bore-spritt, would I flame distinctly, Then meete, and ioyne.
Ioues
Lightning, the precursers O'th dreadfull Thunder-claps more momentarie And sight out-running were not; the fire, and cracks Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty
Neptune
Seeme to besiege, and make his bold waues tremble, Yea, his dread Trident shake.
My braue Spirit, Who was so firme, so constant, that this coyle Would not infect his reason?
Not a soule But felt a Feauer of the madde, and plaid Some tricks of desperation; all but Mariners Plung'd in the foaming bryne, and quit the vessell; Then all
a
fire with me the Kings sonne
Ferdinand
With haire vp-staring (then like reeds, not haire) Was the first man that leapt; cride
hell
is empty, And all the Diuels are heere.
Why that's my spirit: But was not this nye shore?
Close by, my Master.
But are they (
Ariell
) safe?
Not a haire perishd: On their sustaining garments not a blemish, But fresher then before: and as thou badst me, In troops I haue dispersd them 'bout the Isle: The Kings sonne haue I landed by himselfe, Whom I left cooling of the Ayre with sighes, In an odde Angle of the Isle, and sitting His armes in this sad knot.
Of the Kings ship, The Marriners, say how thou hast disposd, And all the rest o'th' Fleete?
Safely in harbour Is the Kings shippe, in the deepe Nooke, where once Thou calldst me vp at midnight to fetch dewe From the still-vext
Bermoothes,
there she's hid; The Marriners all vnder hatches stowed, Who, with a Charme ioynd to their suffred labour I haue left asleep: and for the rest o'th' Fleet (Which I dispers'd) they all haue met againe, And are vpon the
Mediterranian
Flote Bound sadly home for
Naples,
Supposing that they saw the Kings ship wrackt, And his great person perish.
Ariel,
thy charge Exactly is perform'd; but there's more worke: What is the time o'th' day?
Past the mid season.
At least two Glasses: the time 'twixt six & now Must by vs both be spent most preciously.
Is there more toyle? Since
dost giue me pains, Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd, Which is not yet perform'd me.
How now? moodie? What is't thou canst demand?
My Libertie.
Before the time be out? no more:
I prethee, Remember I haue done thee worthy seruice, Told thee no lyes, made thee no mistakings, serv'd Without or grudge, or grumblings; thou did promise To bate me a full yeere.
Do'st thou forget From what a torment I did free thee?
No.
Thou do'st: & thinkst it much to tread
Ooze Of the salt deepe; To run vpon the sharpe winde of the North, To doe me businesse in the veines o'th' earth When it is bak'd with frost.
I doe not Sir.
Thou liest, malignant Thing: hast thou forgot The fowle Witch
Sycorax,
who with Age and Enuy Was growne into a hoope? hast thou forgot her?
No Sir.
Thou hast: where was she born? speak: tell me:
Sir, in
Argier.
Oh, was she so: I must Once in a moneth recount what thou hast bin, Which thou forgetst. This damn'd Witch
Sycorax
For mischiefes manifold, and sorceries terrible To enter humane hearing, from
Argier
Thou know'st was banish'd: for one thing she did They wold not take her life: Is not this true?
I
, Sir.
This blew ey'd hag, was hither brought with
child
, And here was left by th' Saylors; thou my slaue, As thou reportst thy selfe, was then her seruant, And for thou wast a Spirit too delicate To act her earthy, and abhord commands, Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee By helpe of her more potent Ministers, And in her most vnmittigable rage, Into a clouen Pyne, within which rift Imprison'd, thou didst painefully remaine A dozen yeeres: within which space she
di
'd, And left thee there: where thou didst vent thy groanes As fast as Mill-wheeles strike: Then was this Island (Saue for the Son, that he did littour heere, A frekelld whelpe, hag-borne) not honour'd with A humane shape.
Yes:
Caliban
her sonne.
Dull thing, I say so: he, that
Caliban
Whom now I keepe in seruice, thou best know'st What torment I did finde thee in; thy grones Did make wolues howle, and penetrate the breasts Of euer-angry Beares; it was a torment To lay vpon the damn'd, which
Sycorax
Could not againe vndoe: it was mine
Art
, When I arriu'd, and heard thee, that made gape The Pyne, and let thee out.
I thanke thee Master.
If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an Oake And peg-thee in his knotty entrailes, till Thou hast howl'd away twelue winters.
Pardon, Master, I will be correspondent to command And doe my spryting, gently.
Doe so: and after two daies I will discharge thee.
That's my noble Master: What shall I doe? say what? what shall I doe?
Goe make thy selfe like a Nymph o'th' Sea, Be subiect to no sight but thine, and mine: inuisible To euery eye-ball else: goe take this shape And hither come in't: goe: hence With diligence.
Exit.
Awake, deere hart awake, thou hast slept
well
, Awake.
The strangenes of your story, put Heauinesse in me.
Shake it off: Come on, Wee'll visit
Caliban,
my slaue, who neuer Yeelds vs kinde answere.
'Tis a villaine Sir, I doe not loue to looke on.
But as 'tis We cannot misse him: he do's make our fire, Fetch in our wood, and serues in Offices That profit vs: What hoa: slaue:
Caliban:
Thou Earth, thou: speake.
There's wood enough within.
Come forth I say, there's other busines for thee: Come thou Tortoys, when?
Enter Ariel like a water-
Nymph
.
Fine apparision: my queint
Ariel,
Hearke in thine eare.
My Lord, it shall be done.
Exit.
Thou poysonous slaue, got by
diuell himselfe Vpon thy wicked Dam; come forth.
Enter Caliban.
As wicked dewe, as ere my mother brush'd With Rauens feather from vnwholesome Fen Drop on you both: A Southwest blow on yee, And blister you all ore.
For this be sure, to night thou shalt haue cramps, Side-stitches, that shall pen thy breath vp, Vrchins Shall for that vast of night, that they may worke All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd As thicke as hony-combe, each pinch more stinging Then Bees that made 'em.
I must eat my dinner: This Island's mine by
Sycorax
my mother, Which thou tak'st from me: when thou cam'st first Thou stroakst me, & made much of me: wouldst giue me Water with berries in't: and teach me how To name the bigger Light, and how the lesse That burne by day, and night: and then I lou'd thee And shew'd thee all the qualities o'th' Isle, The fresh Springs, Brine-pits; barren place and fertill, Curs'd be I that did so: All the Charmes Of
Sycorax:
Toades, Beetles, Batts light on you: For I am all the Subiects that you haue, Which first was min owne King: and here you sty-me In this hard Rocke, whiles you doe keepe from me The rest o'th' Island.
Thou most lying slaue, Whom stripes may moue, not kindnes: I haue vs'd thee (Filth as thou art) with humane care, and lodg'd thee In mine owne Cell, till thou didst seeke to violate The honor of my childe.
Oh ho, oh ho, would't had bene done: Thou didst preuent me, I had peopel'd else This Isle with
Calibans.
Abhorred Slaue, Which any print of goodnesse wilt not take, Being capable of all
ill
: I pittied thee, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each houre One thing or other: when thou didst not (Sauage) Know thine owne meaning; but wouldst gabble, like A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes With words that made them knowne: But thy vild race (Tho thou didst learn) had that in't, which good natures Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou Deseruedly confin'd into this Rocke, who hadst Deseru'd more then a prison.
You taught me Language, and my profit on't Is, I know how to curse: the red-plague rid you For learning me your language.
Hag-seed, hence: Fetch vs in Fewell, and be quicke thou'rt best To answer other businesse: shrug'st thou (Malice) If thou neglectst, or dost vnwillingly What I command, Ile racke thee with old Crampes, Fill all thy bones with Aches, make thee rore, That beasts shall tremble at thy dyn.
No, 'pray thee. I must obey, his
Art
is of such pow'r, It would controll my Dams god
Setebos,
And make a vassaile of him.
So slaue, hence.
Exit Cal.
Enter Ferdinand & Ariel, inuisible playing & singing.
Come vnto these yellow sands, and then take hands: Curtsied when you haue, and kist the wilde waues whist: Foote it featly heere, and there, and sweete Sprights beare the burthen.
Burthen dispersedly.
Harke, harke, bowgh wawgh: the watch-Dogges barke, bowgh-wawgh.
Hark, hark, I heare, the straine of strutting Chanticlere cry cockadidle-dowe.
Where shold this Musick be? I'th aire, or th' earth? It sounds no more: and sure it waytes vpon Some God o'th' Iland, sitting on a banke, Weeping againe the King my Fathers wracke. This Musicke crept by me vpon the waters, Allaying both their fury, and my passion With it's sweet ayre: thence I haue follow'd it (Or it hath drawne me rather) but 'tis gone. No, it begins againe.
Full fadom fiue thy Father lies, Of his bones are Corrall made: Those are pearles that were his eies, Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a Sea-change Into something rich, & strange: Sea-Nimphs hourly ring his knell.
Burthen:
ding dong.
Harke now I heare them, ding-dong bell.
The Ditty do's remember my drown'd father, This is no mortall busines, nor no sound That the earth owes: I heare it now aboue me.
The fringed Curtaines of thine eye aduance, And say what thou see'st yond.
What is't a Spirit? Lord, how it lookes about: Beleeue me sir, It carries a braue forme. But 'tis a spirit.
No wench, it eats, and sleeps, & hath such senses As we haue: such. This Gallant which thou seest Was in the wracke: and but hee's something stain'd With greefe (that's beauties canker)
might'st call him A goodly person: he hath lost his fellowes, And strayes about to finde 'em.
I might call him A thing diuine, for nothing naturall I euer saw so Noble.
It goes on I see As my soule prompts it: Spirit, fine spirit, Ile free thee Within two dayes for this.
Most sure the Goddesse On whom these ayres attend: Vouchsafe my pray'r May know if you remaine vpon this Island, And that you will some good instruction giue How I may beare me heere: my prime request (Which I do last pronounce) is (O you wonder) If you be Mayd, or no?
No wonder Sir, But certainly a Mayd.
My Language? Heauens: I am the best of them that speake this speech, Were I but where 'tis spoken.
How? the best? What wer't thou if the King of
Naples
heard thee?
A single thing, as I am now, that wonders To heare thee speake of
Naples:
he do's heare me, And that he do's, I weepe: my selfe am
Naples,
Who, with mine eyes (neuer since at ebbe) beheld The King my Father wrack't.
Alacke, for mercy.
Yes faith, & all his Lords, the Duke of
Millaine
And his braue sonne, being twaine.
The Duke of
Millaine
And his more brauer daughter, could controll thee If now 'twere fit to do't: At the first sight They haue chang'd eyes: Delicate
Ariel,
Ile set thee free for this. A word good Sir, I feare you haue done your selfe some wrong: A word.
Why speakes my father so vngently? This Is the third man that ere I saw: the first That ere I sigh'd for: pitty moue my father To be enclin'd my way.
O, if a Virgin, And your affection not gone forth, Ile make you The Queene of
Naples.
Soft sir, one word more. They are both in eythers pow'rs: But this swift busines I must vneasie make, least too light winning Make the prize light. One word more: I charge thee That thou attend me: Thou do'st heere vsurpe The name thou ow'st not, and hast put thy selfe Vpon this Island, as a spy, to win it From me, the Lord on't.
No, as I am a man.
Ther's nothing
ill
, can dwell in such a Temple, If the ill-spirit haue so fayre a house, Good things will striue to dwell with't.
Follow me.
Speake not you for him: hee's a Traitor: come, Ile manacle thy necke and feete together: Sea water shalt thou drinke: thy food shall be The fresh-brooke Mussels, wither'd roots, and huskes Wherein the Acorne cradled. Follow.
No, I will resist such entertainment, till Mine enemy ha's more pow'r.
He drawes, and is charmed from mouing.
O deere Father, Make not too rash a triall of him, for Hee's gentle, and not fearfull.
What I say, My foote my Tutor? Put thy sword vp Traitor, Who mak'st a shew, but dar'st not strike: thy conscience Is so possest with guilt: Come, from thy ward, For I can heere disarme thee with this sticke, And make thy weapon drop.
Beseech you Father.
Hence: hang not on my garments.
Sir haue pity, Ile be his surety.
Silence: One word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee: What, An aduocate for an Impostor? Hush: Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he, (Hauing seene but him and
Caliban:
) Foolish wench, To th' most of men, this is a
Caliban,
And they to him are Angels.
My affections Are then most humble: I haue no ambition To see a goodlier man.
Come on, obey: Thy Nerues are in their infancy againe. And haue no vigour in them.
So they are: My spirits, as in a dreame, are all bound vp: My Fathers losse, the weaknesse which I feele, The wracke of all my friends, nor this mans threats, To whom I am subdude, are but light to me, Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this Mayd: all corners else o'th' Earth Let liberty make vse of: space enough Haue I in such a prison.
It workes: Come on. Thou hast done well, fine
Ariell:
follow me, Harke what thou else shalt do mee.
Be of comfort, My Fathers of a better nature (Sir) Then he appeares by speech: this is vnwonted Which now came from him.
Thou shalt be as free As mountaine windes; but then exactly do All points of my command.
To th' syllable.
Come follow: speake not for him.
Exeunt.
Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, and others.
Beseech you Sir, be merry; you haue cause, (So haue we all) of ioy; for our escape Is much beyond our losse; our hint of woe Is common, euery day, some Saylors wife, The Masters of some Merchant, and the Merchant Haue iust our Theame of woe: But for the miracle, (I meane our preseruation) few in millions Can speake like vs: then wisely (good Sir) weigh Our sorrow, with our comfort.
Prethee peace.
He receiues comfort like cold porredge.
The Visitor will not giue him ore so.
Looke, hee's winding vp the watch of his wit,
By
and by it will strike.
Sir.
One: Tell.
When euery greefe is entertaind, That's offer'd comes to th' entertainer.
A dollor.
Dolour comes to him indeed, you haue spoken truer then you purpos'd.
You haue taken it wiselier then I meant you should.
Therefore my Lord.
Fie, what a spend-thrift is he of his tongue.
I pre-thee spare.
Well, I haue done: But yet
He will be talking.
Which, of he, or Adrian, for a good wager, First begins to crow?
The old Cocke.
The Cockrell.
Done: The wager?
A Laughter.
A match.
Though this Island seeme to be desert.
Ha, ha, ha.
So:
you
'r paid.
Vninhabitable, and almost inaccessible.
Yet
Yet
He could not misse't.
It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance.
Temperance
was a delicate wench.
I
, and a subtle, as he most learnedly deliuer'd.
The ayre breathes vpon vs here most sweetly.
As if it had Lungs, and rotten ones.
Or, as 'twere perfum'd by a Fen.
Heere is euery thing aduantageous to life.
True, saue meanes to liue.
Of that there's none, or little.
How lush and lusty the grasse lookes? How greene?
The ground indeed is tawny.
With an eye of greene in't.
He misses not much.
No: he doth but mistake the truth totally.
But the rariety of it is, which is indeed almost beyond credit.
As many voucht rarieties are.
That our Garments being (as they were) drencht in the Sea, hold notwithstanding their freshnesse and glosses, being rather new dy'de then stain'd with salte water.
If but one of his pockets could speake, would it not say he lyes?
I
, or very falsely pocket vp his report.
Me thinkes our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Affricke, at the marriage of the kings faire daughter
Claribel
to the king of
Tunis.
'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our returne.
Tunis
was neuer grac'd before with such a Pa- ragon to their Queene.
Not since widdow
Dido's
time.
Widow? A pox o'that: how came that Wid- dow in? Widdow
Dido
!
What if he had said Widdower
Aeneas
too? Good Lord, how you take it?
Widdow
Dido
said you? You make me study of that: She was of
Carthage,
not of
Tunis.
This
Tunis
Sir was
Carthage.
Carthage
?
I assure you
Carthage.
His word is more then the miraculous Harpe.
He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too.
What impossible matter wil he make easy next?
I thinke hee will carry this Island home in his pocket, and giue it his sonne for an Apple.
And sowing the kernels of it in the Sea, bring forth more Islands.
I
.
Why in good time.
Sir, we were talking, that our garments seeme now as fresh as when we were at
Tunis
at the marriage of your daughter, who is now Queene.
And the rarest that ere came there.
Bate (I beseech you) widdow
Dido.
O Widdow
Dido
?
I
, Widdow
Dido.
Is not Sir my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I meane in a sort.
That sort was well fish'd for.
When I wore it at your daughters marriage.
You cram these words into mine eares, against the stomacke of my sense: would I had neuer Married my daughter there: For comming thence My sonne is lost, and (in my rate) she too, Who is so farre from
Italy
remoued, I ne're againe shall see her: O thou mine heire Of
Naples
and of
Millaine,
what strange fish Hath made his meale on thee?
Sir he may liue, I saw him beate the surges vnder him, And ride vpon their backes; he trod the water Whose enmity he flung aside: and brested The surge most swolne that met him: his bold head 'Boue the contentious waues he kept, and oared Himselfe with his good armes in lusty stroke To th' shore; that ore his waue-worne basis bowed As stooping to releeue him: I not doubt He came aliue to Land.
No, no, hee's gone.
Sir you may thank your selfe for this great losse, That would not blesse our Europe with your daughter, But rather loose her to an Affrican, Where she at least, is banish'd from your eye, Who hath cause to wet the greefe on't.
Pre-thee peace.
You were kneel'd
too
, & importun'd otherwise By all of vs: and the faire soule her selfe Waigh'd betweene loathnesse, and obedience, at Which end o'th' beame should bow: we haue lost your
son
, I feare for euer:
Millaine
and
Naples
haue Mo widdowes in them of this businesse making, Then we bring men to comfort them: The faults your owne.
So is the deer'st oth' losse.
My Lord
Sebastian,
The truth you speake doth lacke some gentlenesse, And time to speake it in: you rub the sore, When you should bring the plaister.
Very well.
And most Chirurgeonly.
It is foule weather in vs all, good Sir, When you are cloudy.
Fowle weather?
Very foule.
Had I plantation of this Isle my Lord.
Hee'd sow't with Nettle-seed.
Or dockes, or Mallowes.
And were the King on't, what would I do?
Scape being drunke, for want of Wine.
I'th' Commonwealth I would (by contraries) Execute all things: For no kinde of Trafficke Would I admit: No name of Magistrate: Letters should not be knowne: Riches, pouerty, And vse of seruice, none: Contract, Succession, Borne, bound of Land, Tilth, Vineyard none: No vse of Mettall, Corne, or Wine, or Oyle: No occupation, all men idle, all: And Women too, but innocent and pure: No Soueraignty.
Yet he would be King on't.
The latter end of his Common-wealth forgets the beginning.
All things in common Nature should produce Without sweat or endeuour: Treason, fellony, Sword, Pike, Knife, Gun, or neede of any Engine Would I not haue: but Nature should bring forth Of
it
owne kinde, all foyzon, all abundance To feed my innocent people.
No marrying 'mong his subiects?
None (man) all idle; Whores and knaues,
I would with such perfection gouerne Sir: T' Excell the Golden Age.
'Saue his Maiesty.
Long liue
Gonzalo.
And do you marke me, Sir?
Pre-thee no more: thou dost talke nothing to
me.
I do
well
beleeue your Highnesse, and did it to minister occasion to these Gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble Lungs, that they alwayes vse to laugh at nothing.
'Twas you we laugh'd at.
Who, in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.
What a blow was there giuen?
And
it had not falne flat-long.
You are Gentlemen of braue mettal: you would lift the Moone out of her spheare, if she would continue in it fiue weekes without changing.
Enter Ariell playing solemne Musicke.
We would so, and then go
a
Bat-fowling.
Nay good my Lord, be not angry.
No I warrant you, I will not aduenture my discretion so weakly: Will you laugh me asleepe, for I am very heauy.
Go sleepe, and heare vs.
What, all so soone asleepe? I wish mine eyes Would (with themselues) shut vp my thoughts, I finde they are inclin'd to do so.
Please you Sir, Do not omit the heauy offer of it: It sildome visits sorrow, when it doth, it is a Comforter.
We two my Lord, will guard your person, While you take your rest, and watch your safety.
Thanke you: Wondrous heauy.
What a strange drowsines possesses them?
It is the quality o'th' Clymate.
Why Doth it not then our eye-lids sinke? I finde Not my selfe dispos'd to sleep.
Nor I, my spirits are nimble: They fell together all, as by consent They dropt, as by a Thunder-stroke: what might Worthy
Sebastian
? O, what might? no more: And yet, me thinkes I see it in thy face, What thou should'st be: th' occasion speaks thee, and My strong imagination see's a Crowne Dropping vpon thy head.
What? art thou waking?
Do you not heare me speake?
I do, and surely It is a sleepy Language; and thou speak'st Out of thy sleepe: What is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleepe With eyes wide open: standing, speaking, mouing: And yet so fast asleepe.
Noble
Sebastian,
Thou let'st thy fortune sleepe: die rather: wink'st Whiles thou art waking.
Thou do'st snore distinctly, There's meaning in thy snores.
I am more serious then my custome: you Must be so too, if heed me: which to do, Trebbles thee o're.
Well: I am standing water.
Ile teach you how to flow.
Do so: to ebbe Hereditary Sloth instructs me.
O! If you but knew how you the purpose cherish Whiles thus you mocke it: how in stripping it You more inuest it: ebbing men, indeed (Most often) do so neere the bottome run By their owne feare, or sloth.
'Pre-thee say on, The setting of thine eye, and cheeke proclaime A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed, Which throwes thee much to yeeld.
Thus Sir: Although this Lord of weake remembrance; this Who shall be of as little memory When he is earth'd, hath here almost perswaded (For hee's a Spirit of perswasion, onely Professes to perswade) the King his sonne's aliue, 'Tis as impossible that hee's vndrown'd, As he that sleepes heere, swims.
I haue no hope That hee's vndrown'd.
O, out of that no hope, What great hope haue you? No hope that way, Is Another way so high a hope, that euen Ambition cannot pierce a winke beyond But doubt discouery there. Will you grant with me That
Ferdinand
is drown'd.
He's gone.
Then tell me, who's the next heire of
Naples
?
Claribell.
She that is Queene of
Tunis:
she that dwels Ten leagues beyond mans life: she that from
Naples
Can haue no note, vnlesse the Sun were post: The Man i'th Moone's too slow, till new-borne chinnes Be rough, and Razor-able: She that from whom We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast againe, (And by that destiny) to performe an act Whereof, what's past is Prologue; what to come In yours, and my discharge.
What stuffe is this? How say you? 'Tis true my brothers daughter's Queene of
Tunis,
So is she heyre of
Naples,
'twixt which Regions There is some space.
A space, whose eu'ry cubit Seemes to cry out, how shall that
Claribell
Measure vs backe to
Naples
? keepe in
Tunis,
And let
Sebastian
wake. Say, this were death That now hath seiz'd them, why they were no worse Then now they are: There be that can rule
Naples
As well as he that sleepes: Lords, that can prate As amply, and vnnecessarily As this
Gonzallo:
I my selfe could make A Chough of as deepe chat: O, that you bore The minde that I do; what a sleepe were this For your aduancement? Do you vnderstand me?
Me thinkes I do.
And how do's your content Tender your owne good fortune?
I remember You did supplant your Brother
Prospero.
True: And looke how well my Garments sit vpon me, Much feater then before: My Brothers seruants Were then my fellowes, now they are my men.
But for your conscience.
I
Sir: where lies that? If 'twere a kybe 'Twould put me to my slipper: But I feele not This Deity in my bosome: 'Twentie consciences That stand 'twixt me, and
Millaine,
candied be they, And melt ere they mollest: Heere lies your Brother, No better then the earth he lies vpon, If he were that which now hee's like (that's dead) Whom I with this obedient steele (three inches of it) Can lay to bed for euer: whiles you doing thus, To the perpetuall winke for aye might put This ancient morsell: this Sir Prudence, who Should not vpbraid our course: for all the rest They'l take suggestion, as a Cat laps milke, They'l tell the clocke, to any businesse that We say befits the houre.
Thy case, deere Friend Shall be my president: As thou got'st
Millaine,
I'le come by
Naples:
Draw thy sword, one stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou paiest, And I the King shall loue thee.
Draw together: And when I reare my hand, do you the like To fall it on
Gonzalo.
O, but one word.
Enter Ariell with Musicke and Song.
My Master through his
Art
foresees the danger That you (his friend) are in, and sends me forth (For else his proiect dies) to keepe them liuing.
Sings in Gonzaloes eare.
While you here do snoaring lie, Open-ey'd Conspiracie His time doth take:
If of Life you keepe a care, Shake off slumber and beware. Awake, awake.
Then let vs both be sodaine.
Now, good Angels preserue the King.
Why how now hoa; awake? why are you drawn? Wherefore this ghastly looking?
What's the matter?
Whiles we stood here securing your repose, (Euen now) we heard a hollow burst of bellowing Like Buls, or rather Lyons, did't not wake you? It strooke mine eare most terribly.
I heard nothing.
O, 'twas a din to fright a Monsters eare; To make an earthquake: sure it was the roare Of a whole heard of Lyons.
Heard you this
Gonzalo
?
Vpon mine honour, Sir, I heard a humming, (And that a strange one too) which did awake me: I shak'd you Sir, and cride: as mine eyes opend, I saw their weapons drawne: there was a noyse, That's verily: 'tis best we stand vpon our guard; Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons.
Lead off this ground & let's make further search For my poore sonne.
Heauens keepe him from these Beasts: For he is sure i'th Island.
Lead away.
Prospero
my Lord, shall know what I haue
done.
So (King) goe safely on to seeke thy Son.
Exeunt.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter
Caliban,
with a burthen of Wood (a noyse of thunder heard.)
All the infections that the Sunne suckes vp From Bogs, Fens, Flats, on
Prosper
fall, and make him By ynch-meale a disease: his Spirits heare me, And yet I needes must curse. But they'll nor pinch, Fright me with Vrchyn-shewes, pitch me i'th mire, Nor lead me like a fire-brand, in the darke Out of my way, vnlesse he bid 'em; but For euery trifle, are they set vpon me, Sometime like Apes, that moe and chatter at me, And after bite me: then like Hedg-hogs, which Lye tumbling in my bare-foote way, and mount Their pricks at my foot-fall: sometime am I All wound with Adders, who with clouen tongues Doe hisse me into madnesse: Lo, now Lo,
Enter
Trinculo.
Here comes a Spirit of his, and to torment me For bringing wood in slowly: I'le fall flat, Perchance he will not minde me.
Here's neither bush, nor shrub to beare off any weather at all: and another Storme brewing, I heare it sing ith' winde: yond same blacke cloud, yond huge one, lookes like a foule bumbard that would shed his licquor: if it should thunder, as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by paile-fuls. What haue we here, a man, or a fish? dead or aliue? a fish, hee smels like a fish: a very ancient and fish-like smell: a kinde of, not of the newest poore-Iohn: a strange fish: were I in
England
now (as once I was) and had but this fish painted; not a holiday-foole there but would giue a peece of siluer: there, would this Monster, make a man: any strange beast there, makes a man: when they will not giue a doit to relieue a lame Begger, they will lay out ten to see a dead
Indian:
Leg'd like a man; and his Finnes like Armes: warme o'my troth: I doe now let loose my o- pinion; hold it no longer; this is no fish, but an Islan- der, that hath lately suffered by a Thunderbolt: Alas, the storme is come againe: my best way is to creepe vn- der his Gaberdine: there is no other shelter herea- bout: Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfel- lowes: I will here shrowd till the dregges of the storme be past.
Enter Stephano singing.
I shall no more to sea, to sea, here shall I dye ashore.
This is a very scuruy tune to sing at a mans Funerall: well, here's my comfort.
Drinkes.
Sings.
The Master, the Swabber, the Boate-swaine & I; The Gunner, and his Mate Lou'd Mall, Meg, and Marrian, and Margerie, But none of vs car'd for Kate. For she had a tongue with a tang, Would cry to a Sailor goe hang: She lou'd not the sauour of Tar nor of Pitch, Yet a Tailor might scratch her where ere she did itch. Then to Sea Boyes, and let her goe hang.
This is a scuruy tune too: But here's my comfort.
drinks.
Doe not torment me: oh.
What's the matter? Haue we diuels here? Doe you put trickes vpon's with Saluages, and Men of Inde? ha? I haue not scap'd drowning, to be afeard now of your foure legges: for it hath bin said; as pro- per a man as euer went on foure legs, cannot make him giue ground: and it shall be said so againe, while
Ste-phano
breathes at' nostrils.
The Spirit torments me: oh.
This is some Monster of the Isle, with foure legs; who hath got (as I take it) an Ague: where the diuell should he learne our language? I will giue him some re- liefe if it be but for that: if I can recouer him, and keepe him tame, and get to
Naples
with him, he's a Pre- sent for any Emperour that euer trod on Neates-lea- ther.
Doe not torment me 'prethee: I'le bring my wood home faster.
He's in his fit now; and doe's not talke after the wisest; hee shall taste of my Bottle: if hee haue neuer drunke wine afore, it will goe neere to remoue his Fit: if I can recouer him, and keepe him tame, I will not take too much for him; hee shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly.
Thou do'st me yet but little hurt; thou wilt a- non, I know it by thy trembling: Now
Prosper
workes vpon thee.
Come on your wayes: open your mouth: here is that which will giue language to you Cat; open your mouth; this will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly: you cannot tell who's your friend; open your chaps againe.
I should know that voyce: It should be, But hee is dround; and these are diuels; O de- fend me.
Foure legges and two voyces; a most delicate Monster: his forward voyce now is to speake well of his friend; his backward voice, is to vtter foule speeches, and to detract: if all the wine in my bottle will recouer him, I will helpe his Ague: Come: Amen, I will poure some in thy other mouth.
Stephano.
Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy: This is a diuell, and no Monster: I will leaue him, I haue no long Spoone.
Stephano:
if thou beest
Stephano,
touch me, and speake to me: for I am
Trinculo;
be not afeard, thy good friend
Trinculo.
If thou bee'st
Trinculo:
come forth: I'le pull thee by the lesser legges: if any be
Trinculo's
legges, these are they: Thou art very
Trinculo
indeede: how cam'st thou to be the siege of this Moone-calfe? Can he vent
Trinculo's
?
I tooke him to be kil'd with a thunder-strok; but art thou not dround
Stephano:
I hope now thou art not dround: Is the Storme ouer-blowne? I hid mee vnder the dead Moone-Calfes Gaberdine, for feare of the Storme: And art thou liuing
Stephano
? O
Stephano,
two
Neapolitanes
scap'd?
'Prethee doe not turne me about, my stomacke is not constant.
These be fine things,
and
if they be not sprights: that's a braue God, and beares Celestiall liquor: I will kneele to him.
How did'st thou scape? How cam'st thou hither? Sweare by this Bottle how thou cam'st hither: I escap'd vpon a
But
of Sacke, which the Saylors heaued o're- boord, by this Bottle which I made of the barke of a Tree, with mine owne hands, since I was cast a'-shore.
I'le sweare vpon that Bottle, to be thy true sub- iect, for the liquor is not earthly.
Heere: sweare then how thou escap'dst.
Swom ashore (man) like a Ducke: I can swim like a Ducke i'le be sworne.
Here, kisse the Booke. Though thou canst swim like a Ducke, thou art made like a Goose.
O
Stephano,
ha'st any more of this?
The whole
But
(man) my Cellar is in a rocke by th' sea-side, where my Wine is hid: How now Moone-Calfe, how do's thine Ague?
Ha'st thou not dropt from heauen?
Out o'th Moone I doe assure thee. I was the Man ith' Moone, when time was.
I haue seene thee in her: and I doe adore thee: My Mistris shew'd me thee, and thy Dog, and thy Bush.
Come, sweare to that: kisse the Booke: I will furnish it anon with new Contents: Sweare.
By this good light, this is a very shallow Mon- ster: I afeard of him? a very weake Monster: The Man ith' Moone? A most poore creadulous Monster: Well drawne Monster, in good sooth.
Ile shew thee euery fertill ynch o'th Island: and I will kisse thy foote: I prethee be my god.
By this light, a most perfidious, and drunken Monster, when's god's
a
sleepe he'll rob his Bottle.
Ile kisse thy foot, Ile sweare my selfe thy Subiect.
Come on then: downe and sweare.
I shall laugh my selfe to death at this puppi-hea- ded Monster: a most scuruie Monster: I could finde in my heart to beate him.
Come, kisse.
But that the poore Monster's in drinke: An abhominable Monster.
I'le shew thee the best Springs: I'le plucke thee Berries: I'le fish for thee; and get thee wood enough. A plague vpon the Tyrant that I serue; I'le beare him no more Stickes, but follow thee, thou wondrous man.
A most rediculous Monster, to make a wonder of a poore drunkard.
I 'prethee let me bring thee where Crabs grow; and I with my long nayles will digge thee pig-nuts; show thee a Iayes nest, and instruct thee how to snare the nimble Marmazet: I'le bring thee to clustring Philbirts, and sometimes I'le get thee young Scamels from the Rocke: Wilt thou goe with me?
I pre'thee now lead the way without any more talking.
Trinculo,
the King, and all our company else being dround, wee will inherit here: Here; beare my Bottle: Fellow
Trinculo;
we'll fill him
by
and by a- gaine.
Caliban Sings drunkenly.
Farewell Master; farewell, farewell.
A howling Monster: a drunken Monster.
No more dams I'le make for fish, Nor fetch in firing, at requiring, Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish, Ban' ban' Cacalyban Has a new Master, get a new Man.
Freedome, high-day, high-day freedome, freedome high- day, freedome.
O braue Monster; lead the way.
Exeunt.
Actus Tertius. Scoena Prima.
Enter Ferdinand (bearing a Log.)
There be some Sports are painfull; & their labor Delight in them set off: Some kindes of basenesse Are nobly vndergon; and most poore matters Point to rich ends: this my meane Taske Would be as heauy to me, as odious, but The Mistris which I serue, quickens what's dead, And makes my labours, pleasures: O She is Ten times more gentle, then her Father's crabbed; And he's compos'd of harshnesse. I must remoue Some thousands of these Logs, and pile them vp, Vpon a sore iniunction; my sweet Mistris Weepes when she sees me worke, & saies, such basenes Had neuer like Executor: I forget: But these sweet thoughts, doe euen refresh my labours, Most busie lest, when I doe it.
Enter Miranda
and Prospero.
Alas, now pray you Worke not so hard: I would the lightning had Burnt vp those Logs that you are enioynd to pile: Pray set it downe, and rest you: when this burnes 'Twill weepe for hauing wearied you: my Father Is hard at study; pray now rest your selfe,
Hee's safe for these three houres.
O most deere Mistris The Sun will set before I shall discharge What I must striue to do.
If you'l sit downe Ile beare your Logges the while: pray giue me that, Ile carry it to the pile.
No precious Creature, I had rather cracke my sinewes, breake my backe, Then you should such dishonor vndergoe, While I sit lazy by.
It would become me As well as it do's you; and I should do it With much more ease: for my good
will
is to it, And yours it is against.
Poore worme thou art infected, This visitation shewes it.
You looke wearily.
No, noble Mistris, 'tis fresh morning with me When you are by at night: I do beseech you Cheefely, that I might set it in my prayers, What is your name?
Miranda,
O my Father, I haue broke your hest to say so.
Admir'd
Miranda,
Indeede the top of Admiration, worth What's deerest to the world: full many a Lady I haue ey'd with best regard, and many a time Th' harmony of their tongues, hath into bondage Brought my too diligent eare: for seuerall vertues Haue I lik'd seuerall women, neuer any With so full soule, but some defect in her Did quarrell with the noblest grace she ow'd, And put it to the foile. But you, O you, So perfect, and so peerlesse, are created Of euerie Creatures best.
I do not know One of my sexe; no womans face remember, Saue from my glasse, mine owne: Nor haue I seene More that I may call men, then you good friend, And my deere Father: how features are abroad I am skillesse of; but by my modestie (The iewell in my dower) I would not wish Any Companion in the world but you: Nor can imagination forme a shape Besides your selfe, to like of: but I prattle Something too wildely, and my Fathers precepts I therein do forget.
I am, in my condition A Prince (
Miranda
) I do thinke a King (I would not so) and would no more endure This wodden slauerie, then to suffer The flesh-flie blow my mouth: heare my soule speake. The verie instant that I saw you, did My heart flie to your seruice, there resides To make me slaue to it, and for your sake Am I this patient Logge-man.
Do you loue me?
O heauen; O earth, beare witnes to this sound, And crowne what I professe with kinde euent If I speake true: if hollowly, inuert What best is boaded me, to mischiefe: I, Beyond all limit of what else i'th world Do loue, prize, honor you.
I am a foole To weepe at what I am glad of.
Faire encounter Of two most rare affections: heauens raine grace On that which breeds betweene 'em.
Wherefore weepe you?
At mine vnworthinesse, that dare not offer What I desire to giue; and much lesse take What I shall die to want: But this is trifling, And all the more it seekes to hide it selfe, The bigger bulke it shewes. Hence bashfull cunning, And prompt me plaine and holy innocence. I am your wife, if you will marrie me; If not, Ile die your maid: to be your fellow You may denie me, but Ile be your seruant Whether you will or no.
My Mistris (deerest) And I thus humble euer.
My husband then?
I
, with a heart as willing As bondage ere of freedome: heere's my hand.
And mine, with my heart in't; and now farewel Till halfe an houre hence.
A thousand, thousand.
Exeunt.
So glad of this as they I cannot be, Who are surpriz'd with all; but my reioycing At nothing can be more: Ile to my booke, For yet ere supper time, must I performe Much businesse appertaining.
Exit.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo.
Tell not me, when the
But
is out we will drinke water, not a drop before; therefore beare vp, & boord em' Seruant Monster, drinke to me.
Seruant Monster? the folly of this Iland, they say there's but fiue vpon this Isle; we are three of them, if th' other two be brain'd like vs, the State totters.
Drinke seruant Monster when I bid thee, thy eies are almost set in thy head.
Where should they bee set else? hee were a braue Monster indeede if they were set in his taile.
My man-Monster hath drown'd his tongue in sacke: for my part the Sea cannot drowne mee, I swam ere I could recouer the shore, fiue and thirtie Leagues off and on, by this light thou shalt bee my Lieutenant Monster, or my Standard.
Your Lieutenant if you list, hee's no standard.
Weel not run Monsieur Monster.
Nor go neither: but you'l lie like dogs, and yet say nothing neither.
Moone-calfe, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a good Moone-calfe.
How does thy honour? Let me licke thy shooe: Ile not serue him, he is not valiant.
Thou liest most ignorant Monster, I am in case to iustle a Constable: why, thou debosh'd Fish thou, was there euer man a Coward, that hath drunk so much Sacke as I to day? wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but halfe a Fish, and halfe a Monster?
Loe, how he mockes me, wilt thou let him my Lord?
Lord, quoth he? that a Monster should be such a Naturall?
Loe, loe againe: bite him to death I prethee.
Trinculo,
keepe a good tongue in your head: If you proue a mutineere, the next Tree: the poore Mon-ster's my subiect, and he shall not suffer indignity.
I thanke my noble Lord. Wilt thou be pleas'd to hearken once againe to the suite I made to thee?
Marry will I: kneele, and repeate it, I will stand, and so shall
Trinculo.
Enter Ariell inuisible.
As I told thee before, I am subiect to a Tirant, A Sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me Of the Island.
Thou lyest.
Thou lyest, thou iesting Monkey thou: I would my valiant Master would destroy thee. I do not lye.
Trinculo,
if you trouble him any more in's tale, By this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth.
Why, I said nothing.
Mum then, and no more: proceed.
I say by Sorcery he got this Isle From me, he got it. If thy Greatnesse will Reuenge it on him, (for I know thou dar'st) But this Thing dare not.
That's most certaine.
Thou shalt be Lord of it, and Ile serue thee.
How now shall this be compast? Canst thou bring me to the party?
Yea, yea my Lord, Ile yeeld him thee asleepe, Where thou maist knocke a naile into his head.
Thou liest, thou canst not.
What a py'de Ninnie's this? Thou scuruy patch: I do beseech thy Greatnesse giue him blowes, And take his bottle from him: When that's gone, He shall drinke nought but brine, for Ile not shew him Where the quicke Freshes are.
Trinculo,
run into no further danger: Interrupt the Monster one word further, and by this hand, Ile turne my mercie out o' doores, and make a Stockfish of thee.
Why, what did I? I did nothing: Ile go farther off.
Didst thou not say he lyed?
Thou liest.
Do I so? Take thou that, As you like this, giue me the lye another time.
I did not giue the lie: Out o'your wittes, and hearing too? A pox o'your bottle, this can Sacke and drinking doo: A murren on your Monster, and the diuell take your fingers.
Ha, ha, ha.
Now forward with your Tale: prethee stand further off.
Beate him enough: after a little time Ile beate him too.
Stand farther: Come proceede.
Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custome with him I'th afternoone to sleepe: there thou maist braine him, Hauing first seiz'd his bookes: Or with a logge Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake, Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember First to possesse his Bookes; for without them Hee's but a Sot, as I am; nor hath not One Spirit to command: they all do hate him As rootedly as I. Burne but his Bookes, He ha's braue Vtensils (for so he calles them) Which when he ha's a house, hee'l decke withall. And that most deeply to consider, is The beautie of his daughter: he himselfe Cals her a non-pareill: I neuer saw a woman But onely
Sycorax
my Dam, and she; But she as farre surpasseth
Sycorax,
As great'st do's least.
Is it so braue a Lasse?
I
Lord, she will become thy bed, I warrant, And bring thee forth braue brood.
Monster, I will kill this man: his daughter and I will be King and Queene, saue our Graces: and
Trin-culo
and thy selfe shall be Vice- royes: Dost thou like the plot
Trinculo
?
Excellent.
Giue me thy hand, I am sorry I beate thee: But while thou liu'st keepe a good tongue in thy head.
Within this halfe houre will he be asleepe, Wilt thou destroy him then?
I
on mine honour.
This will I tell my Master.
Thou mak'st me merry: I am full of pleasure, Let vs be iocond. Will you troule the Catch You taught me but whileare?
At thy request Monster, I will do reason, Any reason: Come on
Trinculo,
let vs sing.
Sings.
Flout 'em, and cout 'em: and skowt 'em, and flout 'em, Thought is free.
That's not the tune.
Ariell plaies the tune on a Tabor and Pipe.
What is this same?
This is the tune of our Catch, plaid by the pic- ture of No-body.
If thou beest a man, shew thy selfe in thy likenes: If thou beest a diuell, take't as thou list.
O forgiue me my sinnes.
He that dies payes all debts: I defie thee; Mercy vpon vs.
Art thou affeard?
No Monster, not I.
Be not affeard, the Isle is full of noyses, Sounds, and sweet aires, that giue delight and hurt not: Sometimes a thousand twangling Instruments Will hum about mine eares; and sometime voices, That if I then had wak'd after long sleepe, Will make me sleepe againe, and then in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and shew riches Ready to drop vpon me, that when I wak'd I cri'de to dreame againe.
This will proue a braue kingdome to me, Where I shall haue my Musicke for nothing.
When
Prospero
is destroy'd.
That shall be
by
and by: I remember the storie.
The sound is going away, Lets follow it, and after do our worke.
Leade Monster, Wee'l follow: I would I could see this Taborer, He layes it on.
Wilt come? Ile follow
Stephano.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzallo, Adrian, Francisco, &c.
By'r lakin, I can goe no further, Sir, My old bones akes: here's a maze trod indeede Through fourth-rights, & Meanders: by your patience, I needes must rest me.
Old Lord, I cannot blame thee, Who, am my selfe attach'd with wearinesse To th' dulling of my spirits: Sit downe, and rest: Euen here I will put off my hope, and keepe it No longer for my Flatterer: he is droun'd Whom thus we stray to finde, and the Sea mocks Our frustrate search on land: well, let him goe.
I am right glad, that he's so out of hope: Doe not for one repulse forgoe the purpose That you resolu'd t' effect.
The next aduantage will we take throughly.
Let it be to night, For now they are oppress'd with trauaile, they Will not, nor cannot vse such vigilance As when they are fresh.
Solemne and strange Musicke: and Prosper on the top (inui
-sible:)Enter seuerall strange shapes, bringing in a Banket;
and dance about it with gentle actions of salutations, and inuiting the King, &c. to eate, they depart.
I say to night: no more.
What harmony is this? my good friends, harke.
Maruellous sweet Musicke.
Giue vs kind keepers, heaue[n]s: what were these?
A liuing
Drolerie:
now I will beleeue That there are Vnicornes: that in
Arabia
There is one Tree, the Phoenix throne, one Phoenix At this houre reigning there.
Ile beleeue both: And what do's else want credit, come to me And Ile besworne 'tis true: Trauellers nere did lye, Though fooles at home condemne 'em.
If in
Naples
I should report this now, would they beleeue me? If I should say I saw such Islands; (For certes, these are people of the Island) Who though they are of monstrous shape, yet note Their manners are more gentle, kinde, then of Our humaine generation you shall finde Many, nay almost any.
Honest Lord, Thou hast said well: for some of you there present; Are worse then diuels.
I cannot too much muse Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound expressing (Although they want the vse of tongue) a kinde Of excellent dumbe discourse.
Praise in departing.
They vanish'd strangely.
No matter, since They haue left their Viands behinde; for wee haue sto
macks.
Wilt
please you taste of what is here?
Not I.
Faith Sir, you neede not feare: when wee were
Boyes
Who would beleeue that there were Mountayneeres, Dew-lapt, like Buls, whose throats had hanging at 'em Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men Whose heads stood in their brests? which now we finde Each putter out of fiue for one, will bring vs Good warrant of.
I will stand to, and feede, Although my last, no matter, since I feele The best is past: brother: my Lord, the Duke, Stand
too
, and doe as we.
Thunder and Lightning. Enter Ariell (like a Harpey) claps his wings vpon the Table, and with a quient deuice the Banquet vanishes.
You are three men of sinne, whom destiny That hath to instrument this lower world, And what is in't: the neuer surfeited Sea, Hath caus'd to belch vp you: and on this Island, Where man doth not inhabit, you 'mongst men, Being most vnfit to liue: I haue made you mad; And euen with such like valour, men hang, and drowne Their proper selues: you fooles, I and my fellowes Are ministers of Fate, the Elements Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well Wound the loud windes, or with bemockt-at-Stabs Kill the still closing waters, as diminish One dowle that's in my plumbe: My fellow ministers Are like-invulnerable: if you could hurt, Your swords are now too massie for your strengths, And will not be vplifted: But remember (For that's my businesse to you) that you three From
Millaine
did supplant good
Prospero,
Expos'd vnto the Sea (which hath requit it) Him, and his innocent childe: for which foule deed, The Powres, delaying (not forgetting) haue Incens'd the Seas, and Shores; yea, all the Creatures Against your peace: Thee of thy Sonne,
Alonso
They haue bereft; and doe pronounce by me Lingring perdition (worse then any death Can be at once) shall step, by step attend You, and your wayes, whose wraths to guard you from, Which here, in this most desolate Isle, else fals Vpon your heads, is nothing but hearts-sorrow, And a cleere life ensuing.
He vanishes in Thunder: then (to soft Musicke.) Enter the
shapes againe, and daunce (with mockes and mowes) and carrying out the Table.
Brauely the figure of this
Harpie,
hast thou Perform'd (my
Ariell
) a grace it had deuouring: Of my Instruction, hast thou nothing bated In what thou had'st to say: so with good life, And obseruation strange, my meaner ministers Their seuerall kindes haue done: my high charmes work, And these (mine enemies) are all knit vp In their distractions: they now are in my powre; And in these fits, I leaue them, while I visit Yong
Ferdinand
(whom they suppose is droun'd) And his, and mine lou'd darling.
I'th name of something holy, Sir, why stand you In this strange stare?
O, it is monstrous: monstrous: Me thought the billowes spoke, and told me of it, The windes did sing it to me: and the Thunder (That deepe and dreadfull Organ-Pipe) pronounc'd The name of
Prosper:
it did base my Trespasse, Therefore my Sonne i'th Ooze is bedded; and I'le seeke him deeper then ere plummet sounded, And with him there lye mudded.
Exit.
But one feend at a time, Ile fight their Legions ore.
Ile be thy Second.
Exeunt.
All three of them are desperate: their great guilt (Like poyson giuen to worke a great time after) Now gins to bite the spirits: I doe beseech you (That are of suppler ioynts) follow them swiftly, And hinder them from what this extasie May now prouoke them to.
Follow, I pray you.
Exeunt omnes.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Prospero, Ferdinand, and Miranda.
If I haue too austerely punish'd you, Your compensation makes amends, for I Haue giuen you here, a third of mine owne life, Or that for which I liue: who, once againe I tender to thy hand: All thy vexations Were but my trials of thy loue, and thou Hast strangely stood the test: here, afore heauen I ratifie this my rich guift: O
Ferdinand,
Doe not smile at me, that I boast her of, For thou shalt finde she will out-strip all praise And make it halt, behinde her.
I doe beleeue it Against an Oracle.
Then, as my guest, and thine owne acquisition Worthily purchas'd, take my daughter: But If thou do'st breake her Virgin-knot, before All sanctimonious ceremonies may With full and holy right, be ministred, No sweet aspersion shall the heauens let fall To make this contract grow; but barraine hate, Sower-ey'd disdaine, and discord shall bestrew The vnion of your bed, with weedes so loathly That you shall hate it both: Therefore take heede, As Hymens Lamps shall light you.
As I hope For quiet dayes, faire Issue, and long life, With such loue, as 'tis now the murkiest den, The most opportune place, the strongst suggestion, Our worser
Genius
can, shall neuer melt Mine honor into lust, to take away The edge of that dayes celebration, When I shall thinke, or
Phoebus
Steeds are founderd, Or Night kept chain'd below.
Fairely spoke; Sit then, and talke with her, she is thine owne; What
Ariell;
my industrious serua[n]t
Ariell.
Enter Ariell.
What would my potent master? here I am.
Thou, and thy meaner fellowes, your last seruice Did worthily performe: and I must vse you In such another tricke: goe bring the rabble (Ore whom I giue thee powre) here, to this place: Incite them to quicke motion, for I must Bestow vpon the eyes of this yong couple Some vanity of mine
Art
: it is my promise, And they expect it from me.
Presently?
I
: with a twincke.
Before you can say come, and goe, And breathe twice; and cry, so, so: Each one tripping on his Toe, Will be here with mop, and mowe. Doe you loue me Master? no?
Dearely, my delicate
Ariell:
doe not approach Till thou do'st heare me call.
Well: I conceiue.
Exit.
Looke thou be true: doe not giue dalliance Too much the raigne: the strongest oathes, are straw To th' fire ith' blood: be more abstenious, Or else good night your vow.
I warrant you, Sir, The white cold virgin Snow, vpon my heart Abates the ardour of my Liuer.
Well. Now come my
Ariell,
bring a Corolary, Rather then want a Spirit; appear, & pertly.
Soft musick.
No tongue: all eyes: be silent.
Enter Iris.
Ceres,
most bounteous Lady, thy rich Leas Of Wheate, Rye, Barley, Fetches, Oates and Pease; Thy Turphie-Mountaines, where liue nibling Sheepe, And flat Medes thetchd with Stouer, them to keepe: Thy bankes with pioned, and twilled brims Which spungie
Aprill,
at thy hest betrims; To make cold Nymphes chast crownes; & thy broome-
groues
; Whose shadow the dismissed Batchelor loues, Being lasse-lorne: thy pole-clipt vineyard, And thy Sea-marge stirrile, and rockey-hard, Where thou thy selfe do'st ayre, the Queene o'th Skie, Whose watry Arch, and messenger, am I. Bids thee leaue these, & with her soueraigne grace,
Iuno
descends.
Here on this grasse-plot, in this very place To come, and sport: here Peacocks flye amaine: Approach, rich
Ceres,
her to entertaine.
Enter Ceres.
Haile, many-coloured Messenger, that nere Do'st disobey the wife of
Iupiter:
Who, with thy saffron wings, vpon my flowres Diffusest hony drops, refreshing showres, And with each end of thy blew bowe do'st crowne My boskie acres, and my vnshrubd downe, Rich scarph to my proud earth: why hath thy Queene Summond me hither, to this short gras'd Greene?
A contract of true Loue, to celebrate, And some donation freely to estate On the bles'd Louers.
Tell me heauenly Bowe, If
Venus
or her Sonne, as thou do'st know, Doe now attend the Queene? since they did plot The meanes, that duskie
Dis,
my daughter got, Her, and her blind-Boyes scandald company, I haue forsworne.
Of her societie Be not afraid: I met her deitie Cutting the clouds towards
Paphos:
and her Son Doue-drawn with her: here thought they to haue done Some wanton charme, vpon this Man and Maide, Whose vowes are, that no bed-right shall be paid Till
Hymens
Torch be lighted: but in vaine,
Marses
hot Minion is returnd againe, Her waspish headed sonne, has broke his arrowes, Swears he will shoote no more, but play with Sparrows, And be a Boy right out.
Highest Queene of State, Great
Iuno
comes, I know her by her gate
How do's my bounteous sister? goe with me To blesse this twaine, that they may prosperous be, And honourd in their Issue.
They sing.
Honor, riches, marriage, blessing, Long continuance, and encreasing, Hourely ioyes, be still vpon you,
Iuno sings her blessings on you. Earths increase, foyzon plentie, Barnes, and Garners, neuer empty. Vines, with clustring bunches growing, Plants, with goodly burthen bowing: Spring come to you at the farthest, In the very end of Haruest. Scarcity and want shall shun you,
Ceres
blessing so is on you.
This is a most maiesticke vision, and Harmonious charmingly: may I be bold To thinke these spirits?
Spirits, which by mine
Art
I haue from their confines call'd to enact My present fancies.
Let me liue here euer, So rare a wondred Father, and a wise Makes this place Paradise.
Sweet now, silence:
Iuno
and
Ceres
whisper seriously, There's something else to doe: hush, and be mute Or else our spell is mar'd.
Iuno
and
Ceres
whisper, and send
Iris
on employment.
You Nimphs cald
Nayades
of
windring brooks, With your sedg'd crownes, and euer-harmelesse lookes, Leaue your crispe channels, and on this green-Land Answere your summons,
Iuno
do's command. Come temperate
Nimphes,
and helpe to celebrate A Contract of true Loue: be not too late.
Enter Certaine Nimphes.
You Sun-burn'd Sicklemen of August weary, Come hether from the furrow, and be merry, Make holly day: your Rye-straw hats put on, And these fresh Nimphes encounter euery one In Country footing.
Enter certaine Reapers (properly habited:) they ioyne with
the Nimphes, in a gracefull dance, towards the end where- of
, Prospero
starts sodainly and speakes, after which to a strange hollow and confused noyse, they heauily vanish.
I had forgot that foule conspiracy Of the beast
Calliban,
and his confederates Against my life: the minute of their plot Is almost come: Well done, auoid: no more.
This is strange: your fathers in some passion That workes him strongly.
Neuer till this day Saw I him touch'd with anger, so distemper'd.
You doe looke (my son) in a mou'd sort, As if you were dismaid: be cheerefull Sir, Our Reuels now are ended: These our actors, (As I foretold you) were all Spirits, and Are melted into Ayre, into thin Ayre, And like the baselesse fabricke of this vision The Clowd-capt Towres, the gorgeous Pallaces, The solemne Temples, the great Globe it selfe, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolue, And like this insubstantiall Pageant faded Leaue not a racke behinde: we are such stuffe As dreames are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleepe: Sir, I am vext, Beare with my weakenesse, my old braine is troubled: Be not disturb'd with my infirmitie, If you be pleas'd, retire into my Cell, And there repose, a turne or two, Ile walke To still my beating minde.
We wish your peace.
Exit.
Come with a thought; I thank thee
Ariell:
come.
Enter Ariell.
Thy thoughts I cleaue to, what's thy pleasure?
Spirit: We must prepare to meet with
Caliban.
I
my Commander, when I presented
Ceres
I thought to haue told thee of it, but I fear'd Least I might anger thee.
Say again, where didst thou leaue these varlots?
I told you Sir, they were red-hot with drinking, So full of valour, that they smote the ayre For breathing in their faces: beate the ground For kissing of their feete; yet alwaies bending Towards their proiect: then I beate my Tabor, At which like vnback't colts they prickt their eares, Aduanc'd their eye-lids, lifted vp their noses As they smelt musicke, so I charm'd their eares That Calfe-like, they my lowing follow'd, through Tooth'd briars, sharpe firzes, pricking gosse, & thorns, Which entred their fraile shins: at last I left them I'th' filthy mantled poole beyond your Cell, There dancing vp to th' chins, that the fowle Lake Ore-stunck their feet.
This was well done (my bird) Thy shape inuisible retaine thou still: The trumpery in my house, goe bring it hither For stale to catch these theeues.
I go, I goe.
Exit.
A Deuill, a borne-Deuill, on whose nature Nurture can neuer sticke: on whom my paines Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost, And, as with age, his body ouglier growes, So his minde cankers: I will plague them all, Euen to roaring: Come, hang on them this line.
Enter
Ariell,
loaden with glistering apparell, &c. Enter
Caliban, Stephano,
and
Trinculo,
all wet.
Pray you tread softly, that the blinde Mole may not heare a foot fall: we now are neere his Cell.
Monster, your Fairy,
you say is a harmles Fairy, Has done little better then plaid the Iacke with vs.
Monster, I do smell all horse-pisse, at which My nose is in great indignation.
So is mine. Do you heare Monster: If I should Take a displeasure against you: Looke you.
Thou wert but a lost Monster.
Good my Lord, giue me thy fauour stil, Be patient, for the prize Ile bring thee
too
Shall hudwinke this mischance: therefore speake softly, All's husht as midnight yet.
I
, but to loose our bottles in the Poole.
There is not onely disgrace and dishonor in that Monster, but an infinite losse.
That's more to me then my wetting: Yet this is your harmlesse Fairy, Monster.
I will fetch off my bottle, Though I be o're eares for my labour.
Pre-thee (my King) be quiet. Seest thou heere This is the mouth o'th Cell: no noise, and enter: Do that good mischeefe, which may make this Island Thine owne for euer, and I thy
Caliban
For aye thy foot-licker.
Giue me thy hand, I do begin to haue bloody thoughts.
O King
Stephano,
O Peere: O worthy
Stephano,
Looke what a wardrobe heere is for thee.
Let it alone thou foole, it is but trash.
Oh, ho, Monster: wee know what belongs to a frippery, O King
Stephano.
Put off that gowne (
Trinculo
) by this hand Ile haue that gowne.
Thy grace shall haue it.
The dropsie drowne this foole, what doe you
meane
To doate thus on such luggage? let's alone And doe the murther first: if he awake, From toe to crowne hee'l fill our skins with pinches, Make vs strange stuffe.
Be you quiet (Monster) Mistris line, is not this my Ierkin? how is the Ierkin vnder the line: now Ier- kin you are like to lose your haire, & proue a bald Ierkin.
Doe, doe; we steale by lyne and leuell, and't like your grace.
I thank thee for that iest; heer's a garment for't: Wit shall not goe vn-rewarded while I am King of this Country: Steale by line and leuell, is an excellent passe of pate: there's another garment for't.
Monster, come put some Lime vpon your fin- gers, and away with the rest.
I will haue none on't: we shall loose our time, And all be turn'd to Barnacles, or to Apes With foreheads villanous low.
Monster, lay to your fingers: helpe to beare this away, where my hogshead of wine is, or Ile turne you out of my kingdome: goe to, carry this.
And this.
I
, and this.
A noyse of Hunters heard. Enter diuers Spirits in shape
of Dogs and Hounds, hunting them about: Prospero and Ariel setting them on.
Hey
Mountaine,
hey.
Siluer:
there it goes,
Siluer.
Fury, Fury: there Tyrant, there: harke, harke. Goe, charge my Goblins that they grinde their ioynts With dry Convultions, shorten vp their sinewes With aged Cramps, & more pinch-spotted make them, Then Pard, or Cat o' Mountaine.
Harke, they rore.
Let them be hunted soundly: At this houre Lies at my mercy all mine enemies: Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou Shalt haue the ayre at freedome: for a little Follow, and doe me seruice.
Exeunt.
Actus quintus: Scoena Prima.
Enter
Prospero
(in his Magicke robes) and
Ariel.
Now do's my Proiect gather to a head: My charmes cracke not: my Spirits obey, and Time Goes vpright with his carriage: how's the day?
On the sixt hower, at which time, my Lord You said our worke should cease.
I did say so, When first I rais'd the Tempest: say my Spirit, How fares the King, and's followers?
Confin'd together In the same fashion, as you gaue in charge, Iust as you left them; all prisoners Sir In the
Line-groue
which weather-fends your Cell, They cannot boudge till your release: The King, His Brother, and yours, abide all three distracted, And the remainder mourning ouer them, Brim full of sorrow, and dismay: but chiefly Him that you term'd Sir, the good old Lord
Gonzallo,
His teares runs downe his beard like winters drops From eaues of reeds: your charm so strongly works 'em That if you now beheld them, your affections Would become tender.
Dost thou thinke so, Spirit?
Mine would, Sir, were I humane.
And mine shall. Hast thou (which art but aire) a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions, and shall not my selfe, One of their kinde, that rellish all as sharpely, Passion as they, be kindlier mou'd then thou art? Thogh with their high wrongs I am strook to th' quick, Yet, with my nobler reason, gainst my furie Doe I take part: the rarer Action is In vertue, then in vengeance: they, being penitent, The sole drift of my purpose doth extend Not a frowne further: Goe, release them
Ariell,
My Charmes Ile breake, their sences Ile restore, And they shall be themselues.
Ile fetch them, Sir.
Exit.
Ye Elues of hils, brooks, sta[n]ding lakes & groues, And ye, that on the sands with printlesse foote Doe chase the ebbing-
Neptune
,
and doe flie him When he comes backe: you demy-Puppets, that By Moone-shine doe the greene sowre Ringlets make, Whereof the Ewe not bites: and you, whose pastime Is to make midnight-Mushrumps, that reioyce To heare the solemne Curfewe, by whose ayde (Weake Masters though ye be) I haue bedymn'd The Noone-tide Sun, call'd forth the mutenous windes, And twixt the greene Sea, and the azur'd vault Set roaring warre: To the dread ratling Thunder Haue I giuen fire, and rifted
Ioues
stowt Oke With his owne Bolt: The strong bass'd promontorie Haue I made shake, and by the spurs pluckt vp The Pyne, and Cedar. Graues at my command Haue wak'd their sleepers, op'd, and let 'em forth By my so potent
Art
. But this rough Magicke I heere abiure: and when I haue requir'd Some heauenly Musicke (which euen now I do) To worke mine end vpon their Sences, that This Ayrie-charme is for, I'le breake my staffe, Bury it certaine fadomes in the earth, And deeper then did euer Plummet sound Ile drowne my booke.
Solemne musicke.
Heere enters
Ariel
before: Then
Alonso
with a franticke ge-sture,
attended by
Gonzalo. Sebastian
and
Anthonio
in
like manner attended by
Adrian
and
Francisco:
They all
enter the circle which
Prospero
had made, and there stand charm'd: which
Prospero
obseruing, speakes.
A solemne Ayre, and the best comforter, To an vnsetled fancie, Cure thy braines (Now vselesse) boile within thy skull: there stand For you are Spell-stopt. Holy
Gonzallo,
Honourable man, Mine eyes ev'n sociable to the shew of thine Fall fellowly drops: The charme dissolues apace, And as the morning steales vpon the night (Melting the darkenesse) so their rising sences Begin to chace the ignorant fumes that mantle Their cleerer reason. O good
Gonzallo
My true preseruer, and a loyall
Sir
, To him thou follow'st; I will pay thy graces Home both in word, and deede: Most cruelly Did thou
Alonso,
vse me, and my daughter: Thy brother was a furtherer in the Act, Thou art pinch'd for't now
Sebastian.
Flesh, and bloud, You, brother mine, that entertaine ambition, Expelld remorse, and nature, whom, with
Sebastian
(Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong) Would heere haue kill'd your King: I do forgiue thee, Vnnaturall though thou art: Their vnderstanding Begins to swell, and the approching tide Will shortly fill the reasonable shore That now ly foule, and muddy: not one of them That yet lookes on me, or would know me:
Ariell,
Fetch me the Hat, and Rapier in my Cell, I will discase me, and my selfe present As I was sometime
Millaine:
quickly Spirit, Thou shalt ere long be free.
Ariell sings, and helps to attire him.
Where the
Bee
sucks, there suck I, In a Cowslips bell, I lie, There I cowch when Owles doe crie, On the Batts backe I doe flie after Sommer merrily. Merrily, merrily, shall I liue now, Vnder the blossom that hangs on the Bow.
Why that's my dainty
Ariell:
I shall misse Thee, but yet thou shalt haue freedome: so, so, so, To the Kings ship, inuisible as thou art, There shalt thou finde the Marriners asleepe Vnder the Hatches: the Master and the Boat-swaine Being awake, enforce them to this place; And presently, I pre'thee.
I drinke the aire before me, and returne Or ere your pulse twice beate.
Exit.
All torment, trouble, wonder, and amazement Inhabits heere: some heauenly power guide vs Out of this fearefull Country.
Behold Sir King The wronged Duke of
Millaine, Prospero:
For more assurance that a liuing Prince Do's now speake to thee, I embrace thy body, And to thee, and thy Company, I bid A hearty welcome.
Where thou bee'st he or no, Or some inchanted triflle to abuse me, (As late I haue beene) I not know: thy Pulse Beats as of flesh, and blood: and since I saw thee, Th' affliction of my minde amends, with which I feare a madnesse held me: this must craue (
And
if this be at all) a most strange story. Thy Dukedome I resigne, and doe entreat Thou pardon me my wrongs: But how shold
Prospero
Be liuing, and be heere?
First, noble Frend, Let me embrace thine age, whose honor cannot Be measur'd, or confin'd.
Whether this be, Or be not, I'le not sweare.
You doe yet taste Some subtleties o'th' Isle, that will nor let you Beleeue things certaine: Wellcome, my friends all, But you, my brace of Lords, were I so minded I heere could plucke his Highnesse frowne vpon you And iustifie you Traitors: at this time I will tell no tales.
The Diuell speakes in him:
No: For you (most wicked Sir) whom to call brother Would euen infect my mouth, I do forgiue Thy rankest fault; all of them: and require My Dukedome of thee, which, perforce I know Thou must restore.
If thou beest
Prospero
Giue vs particulars of thy preseruation, How thou hast met vs heere, whom three howres since Were wrackt vpon this shore? where I haue lost (How sharp the point of this remembrance is) My deere sonne
Ferdinand.
I am woe for't, Sir.
Irreparable is the losse, and patience Saies, it is past her cure.
I rather thinke You haue not sought her helpe, of whose soft grace For the like losse, I haue her soueraigne aid, And rest my selfe content.
You the like losse?
As great to me, as late, and supportable To make the deere losse, haue I meanes much weaker Then you may call to comfort you; for I Haue lost my daughter.
A daughter? Oh heauens, that they were liuing both in
Naples
The King and Queene there, that they were, I wish My selfe were mudded in that oo-zie bed Where my sonne lies: when did you lose your daughter?
In this last Tempest. I perceiue these Lords At this encounter doe so much admire, That they deuoure their reason, and scarce thinke Their eies doe offices of Truth: Their words Are naturall breath: but howsoeu'r you haue Beene iustled from your sences, know for certain That I am
Prospero,
and that very Duke Which was thrust forth of
Millaine,
who most strangely Vpon this shore (where you were wrackt) was landed To be the Lord on't: No more yet of this, For 'tis a Chronicle of day by day, Not a relation for a break-fast, nor Befitting this first meeting: Welcome, Sir; This Cell's my Court: heere haue I few attendants, And Subiects none abroad: pray you looke in: My Dukedome since you haue giuen me againe, I will requite you with as good a thing, At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye As much, as me my Dukedome.
Here Prospero discouers Ferdinand and Miranda, play- ing at Chesse.
Sweet Lord, you play me false.
No my dearest loue, I would not for the world.
Yes, for a score of Kingdomes, you should
wrangle
, And I would call it faire play.
If this proue A vision of the Island, one deere Sonne Shall I twice loose.
A most high miracle.
Though the Seas threaten they are mercifull, I haue curs'd them without cause.
Now all the blessings Of a glad father, compasse thee about: Arise, and say how thou cam'st heere.
O wonder! How many goodly creatures are there heere? How beauteous mankinde is? O braue new world
That has such people in't.
'Tis new to thee.
What is this Maid, with whom thou was't at
play
? Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three houres: Is she the goddesse that hath seuer'd vs, And brought vs thus together?
Sir, she is mortall; But by immortall prouidence, she's mine; I chose her when I could not aske my Father For his aduise: nor thought I had one: She Is daughter to this famous Duke of
Millaine,
Of whom, so often I haue heard renowne, But neuer saw before: of whom I haue Receiu'd a second life; and second Father This Lady makes him to me.
I am hers. But O, how odly will it sound, that I Must aske my childe forgiuenesse?
There Sir stop, Let vs not burthen our remembrances, with A heauinesse that's gon.
I haue inly wept, Or should haue spoke ere this: looke downe you gods And on this couple drop a blessed crowne; For it is you, that haue chalk'd forth the way Which brought vs hither.
I say Amen,
Gonzallo.
Was
Millaine
thrust from
Millaine,
that his Issue Should become Kings of
Naples
? O reioyce Beyond a common ioy, and set it downe With gold on lasting Pillers: In one voyage Did
Claribell
her husband finde at
Tunis,
And
Ferdinand
her brother, found a wife, Where he himselfe was lost:
Prospero,
his Dukedome In a poore Isle: and all of vs, our selues, When no man was his owne.
Giue me your hands: Let griefe and sorrow still embrace his heart, That doth not wish you ioy.
Be it so, Amen.
Enter Ariell, with the Master and Boatswaine amazedly following.
O looke Sir, looke Sir, here is more of vs: I prophesi'd, if a Gallowes were on Land This fellow could not drowne: Now blasphemy, That swear'st Grace ore-boord, not an oath on shore, Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the newes?
The best newes is, that we haue safely found Our King, and company: The next: our Ship, Which but three glasses since, we gaue out split, Is tyte, and
yare
, and brauely rig'd, as when We first put out to Sea.
Sir, all this seruice Haue I done since I went.
My tricksey Spirit.
These are not naturall euents, they strengthen From strange, to stranger: say, how came you hither?
If I did thinke, Sir, I were well awake, I'ld striue to tell you: we were dead of sleepe, And (how we know not) all clapt vnder hatches, Where, but euen now, with strange, and seuerall noyses Of roring, shreeking, howling, gingling chaines, And mo diuersitie of sounds, all horrible. We were awak'd: straight way, at liberty; Where we, in all our trim, freshly beheld Our royall, good, and gallant Ship: our Master Capring to eye her: on a trice, so please you, Euen in a dreame, were we diuided from them, And were brought moaping hither.
Was
't well done?
Brauely (my diligence) thou shalt be free.
This is as strange a Maze, as ere men trod, And there is in this businesse, more then nature Was euer conduct of: some Oracle Must rectifie our knowledge.
Sir, my Leige, Doe not infest your minde, with beating on The strangenesse of this businesse, at pickt leisure (Which shall be shortly single) I'le resolue you, (Which to you shall seeme probable) of euery These happend accidents: till when, be cheerefull And thinke of each thing well: Come hither Spirit, Set
Caliban,
and his companions free: Vntye the Spell: How fares my gracious Sir? There are yet missing of your Companie Some few odde Lads, that you remember not.
Enter Ariell, driuing in Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo in their stolne Apparell.
Euery man shift for all the rest, and let No man take care for himselfe; for all is But fortune:
Coragio
Bully-Monster
Coragio.
If these be true spies which I weare in my head, here's a goodly sight.
O
Setebos,
these be braue Spirits indeede: How fine my Master is? I am afraid He will chastise me.
Ha, ha: What things are these, my Lord
Anthonio
? Will money buy em?
Very like: one of them Is a plaine Fish, and no doubt marketable.
Marke but the badges of these men, my Lords, Then say if they be true: This mishapen knaue; His Mother was a Witch, and one so strong That could controle the Moone; make flowes, and ebs, And deale in her command, without her power: These three haue robd me, and this demy-diuell; (For he's a bastard one) had plotted with them To take my life: two of these Fellowes, you Must know, and owne, this Thing of darkenesse, I Acknowledge mine.
I shall be pincht to death.
Is not this
Stephano,
my drunken Butler?
He is drunke now; Where had he wine?
And
Trinculo
is reeling ripe: where should they Finde this grand Liquor that hath gilded 'em? How cam'st thou in this pickle?
I haue bin in such a pickle since I saw you last, That I feare me will neuer out of my bones: I shall not feare fly-blowing.
Why how now
Stephano
?
O touch me not, I am not
Stephano,
but a Cramp.
You'ld be King o'the Isle, Sirha?
I should haue bin a sore one then.
This is a strange thing as ere I look'd on.
He is as disproportion'd in his Manners As in his shape: Goe Sirha, to my Cell, Take with you your Companions: as you looke To haue my pardon, trim it handsomely.
I
that I will: and Ile be wise hereafter,
And seeke for grace: what a thrice double Asse Was I to take this drunkard for a god? And worship this dull foole?
Goe to, away.
Hence, and bestow your luggage where you
found it.
Or stole it rather.
Sir, I inuite your Highnesse, and your traine To my poore Cell: where you shall take your rest For this one night, which part of it, Ile waste With such discourse, as I not doubt, shall make it Goe quicke away: The story of my life, And the particular accidents, gon by Since I came to this Isle: And in the morne I'le bring you to your ship, and so to
Naples,
Where I haue hope to see the nuptiall Of these our deere-belou'd, solemnized, And thence retire me to my
Millaine,
where Euery third thought shall be my graue.
I long To heare the story of your life; which must Take the eare strangely.
I'le deliuer all, And promise you calme Seas, auspicious gales, And saile, so expeditious, that shall catch Your Royall fleete farre off: My
Ariel;
chicke That is thy charge: Then to the Elements Be free, and fare thou well: please you draw neere.
Exeunt omnes.
EPILOGVE, spoken by
Prospero.
Now my Charmes are all ore-throwne, And what strength I haue's mine owne. Which is most faint: now 'tis true I must be heere confinde by you, Or sent to
Naples,
Let me not Since I haue my Dukedome got, And pardon'd the deceiuer, dwell In this bare Island, by your Spell, But release me from my bands With the helpe of your good hands: Gentle breath of yours, my Sailes Must fill, or else my proiect failes, Which was to please: Now I want Spirits to enforce:
Art
to inchant, And my ending is despaire, Vnlesse I be relieu'd by praier Which pierces so, that it assaults Mercy it selfe, and frees all faults. As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your Indulgence set me free.
Exit.
Paris,
and true
Romeo
dead. Shee wakes, and I intreated her come foorth, And beare this worke of Heauen, with patience: But then, a noyse did scarre me from the Tombe, And she (too desperate) would not go with me, But (as it seemes) did violence on her selfe. All this I know, and to the Marriage her Nurse is priuy: And if ought in this miscarried by my fault, Let my old life be sacrific'd, some houre before the time, Vnto the rigour of seuerest Law.
We still haue knowne thee for a Holy man. Where's
Romeo's
man? What can he say to this?
I brought my Master newes of
Iuliets
death, And then in poste he came from
Mantua
To this same place, to this same Monument. This Letter he early bid me giue his Father, And threatned me with death, going in the Vault, If I departed not, and left him there.
Giue me the Letter, I will look on it. Where is the Counties Page that rais'd the Watch? Sirra, what made your Master in this place?
He came with flowres to strew his Ladies graue, And bid me stand aloofe, and so I did: Anon comes one with light to ope the Tombe, And
by
and by my Maister drew on him, And then I ran away to call the Watch.
This Letter doth make good the Friers words, Their course of Loue, the tydings of her death: And heere he writes, that he did buy a poyson Of a poore Pothecarie, and therewithall Came to this Vault to dye, and lye with
Iuliet.
Where be these Enemies?
Capulet, Mountague,
See what a scourge is laide vpon your hate, That Heauen finds meanes to kill your ioyes with Loue; And I, for winking at your discords too, Haue lost a brace of Kinsmen: All are punish'd.
O Brother
Mountague,
giue me thy hand, This is my Daughters ioynture, for no more Can I demand.
But I can giue thee more: For I will raise her Statue in pure Gold, That whiles
Verona
by that name is knowne, There shall no figure at that Rate be set, As that of True and Faithfull
Iuliet.
As rich shall
Romeo
by his Lady ly, Poore sacrifices of our enmity.
A glooming peace this morning with it brings, The Sunne for sorrow will not shew his head; Go hence, to haue more talke of these sad things, Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished. For neuer was a Storie of more Wo, Then this of
Iuliet,
and her
Romeo.
Exeunt omnes
Twelfe Night, Or what you will.
Actus Primus, Scaena Prima.
Enter Orsino Duke of Illyria, Curio, and other Lords.
If Musicke be the food of Loue, play on, Giue me excesse of it: that surfetting, The appetite may sicken, and so dye. That straine agen, it had a dying fall: O, it came ore my eare, like the sweet sound That breathes vpon a banke of Violets; Stealing, and giuing Odour. Enough, no more, 'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before. O spirit of Loue, how quicke and fresh art thou, That notwithstanding thy capacitie, Receiueth as the Sea. Nought enters there, Of what validity, and pitch so ere, But falles into abatement, and low price Euen in a minute; so full of shapes is fancie, That it alone, is high fantasticall.
Will you go hunt my Lord?
What
Curio
?
The Hart.
Why so I do, the Noblest that I haue: O when mine eyes did see
Oliuia
first, Me thought she purg'd the ayre of pestilence; That instant was I turn'd into a Hart, And my desires like fell and cruell hounds, Ere since pursue me. How now what newes from her?
Enter Valentine.
So please my Lord, I might not be admitted, But from her handmaid do returne this answer: The Element it selfe, till seuen yeares heate, Shall not behold her face at ample view: But like a Cloystresse she will vailed walke, And water once a day her Chamber round With eye-offending brine: all this to season A brothers dead loue, which she would keepe fresh And lasting, in her sad remembrance.
O she that hath a heart of that fine frame To pay this debt of loue but to a brother, How will she loue, when the rich golden shaft Hath kill'd the flocke of all affections else That liue in her. When Liuer, Braine, and Heart, These soueraigne thrones, are all supply'd and fill'd Her sweete perfections with one selfe king: Away before me, to sweet beds of Flowres, Loue-thoughts lye rich, when canopy'd with bowres.
Exeunt
Scena Secunda.
Enter Viola, a Captaine, and Saylors.
What Country (Friends) is this?
This is Illyria Ladie.
And what should I do in Illyria? My brother he is in Elizium, Perchance he is not drown'd: What thinke you saylors?
It is perchance that you your selfe were saued.
O my poore brother, and so perchance may he be.
True Madam, and to comfort you with chance, Assure your selfe, after our ship did split, When you, and those poore number saued with you, Hung on our driuing boate: I saw your brother Most prouident in perill, binde himselfe, (Courage and hope both teaching him the practise) To a strong Maste, that liu'd vpon the sea: Where like
Orion
on the Dolphines backe, I saw him hold acquaintance with the waues, So long as I could see.
For saying so, there's Gold: Mine owne escape vnfoldeth to my hope, Whereto thy speech serues for authoritie The like of him. Know'st thou this Countrey?
I
Madam well, for I was bred and borne Not three houres trauaile from this very place.
Who gouernes heere?
A noble Duke in nature, as in name.
What is his name?
Orsino.
Orsino:
I haue heard my father name him. He was a Batchellor then.
And so is now, or was so very late: For but a month ago I went from hence, And then 'twas fresh in murmure (as you know What great ones do, the lesse will prattle of,) That he did seeke the loue of faire
Oliuia.
What's shee?
A vertuous maid, the daughter of a Count That dide some tweluemonth since, then leauing her In the protection of his sonne, her brother, Who shortly also dide: for whose deere loue (They say) she hath abiur'd the sight And company of men.
O that I seru'd that Lady, And might not be deliuered to the world Till I had made mine owne occasion mellow What my estate is.
That were hard to compasse, Because she will admit no kinde of suite, No, not the Dukes.
There is a faire behauiour in thee Captaine, And though that nature, with a beauteous wall Doth oft close in pollution: yet of thee I will beleeue thou hast a minde that suites With this thy faire and outward charracter. I prethee (and Ile pay thee bounteously) Conceale me what I am, and be my ayde, For such disguise as haply shall become The forme of my intent. Ile serue this Duke, Thou shalt present me as an Eunuch to him, It may be worth thy paines: for I can sing, And speake to him in many sorts of Musicke, That will allow me very worth his seruice. What else may hap, to time I will commit, Onely shape thou thy silence to my wit.
Be you his Eunuch, and your Mute Ile bee, When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.
I thanke thee: Lead me on.
Exeunt
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Sir Toby, and Maria.
What a plague meanes my Neece to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemie to life.
By my troth sir
Toby,
you must come in earlyer
a
nights: your Cosin, my Lady, takes great exceptions to your
ill
houres.
Why let her except, before excepted.
I
, but you must confine your selfe within the modest limits of order.
Confine? Ile confine my selfe no finer then I am: these cloathes are good enough to drinke in, and so bee these boots too:
and
they be not, let them hang them- selues in their owne straps.
That quaffing and drinking will vndoe you: I heard my Lady talke of it yesterday: and of a foolish knight that you brought in one night here, to be hir woer
Who, Sir
Andrew Ague-cheeke
?
I
he.
He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria.
What's that to th' purpose?
Why he ha's three thousand ducates a yeare.
I
, but hee'l haue but a yeare in all these ducates: He's a very foole, and a prodigall.
Fie, that you'l say so: he playes o'th Viol-de-gam-boys, and speaks three or four languages word for word without booke, & hath all the good gifts of nature.
He hath indeed, almost naturall: for besides that he's a foole, he's a great quarreller: and but that hee hath the gift of a Coward, to allay the gust he hath in quarrel- ling, 'tis thought among the prudent, he would quickely haue the gift of a graue.
By this hand they are scoundrels and substra- ctors that say so of him. Who are they?
They that adde moreour, hee's drunke nightly in your company.
With drinking healths to my Neece: Ile drinke to her as long as there is a passage in my throat, & drinke in Illyria: he's a Coward and a Coystrill that will not drinke to my Neece, till his braines turne o'th toe, like a parish top. What wench?
Castiliano vulgo:
for here coms Sir
Andrew Agueface.
Enter Sir Andrew.
Sir
Toby Belch.
How now sir
Toby Belch
?
Sweet sir
Andrew.
Blesse you faire Shrew.
And you too sir.
Accost Sir
Andrew,
accost.
What's that?
My Neeces Chamber-maid.
Good Mistris accost, I desire better acquaintance
My name is
Mary
sir.
Good mistris
Mary,
accost.
You mistake knight: Accost, is front her, boord her, woe her, assayle her.
By my troth I would not vndertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of Accost?
Far you well Gentlemen.
And
thou let part so Sir
Andrew,
would thou mightst neuer draw sword agen.
And
you part so mistris, I would I might neuer draw sword agen: Faire Lady, doe you thinke you haue fooles in hand?
Sir, I haue not you by'th hand.
Marry but you shall haue, and heeres my hand.
Now sir, thought is free: I pray you bring your hand to'th Buttry barre, and let it drinke.
Wherefore (sweet-heart?) What's your Meta- phor?
It's dry sir.
Why I thinke so: I am not such an asse, but I can keepe my hand dry. But what's your iest?
A dry iest Sir.
Are you full of them?
I
Sir, I haue them at my fingers ends: marry now I let go your hand, I am barren.
Exit Maria
O knight, thou lack'st a cup of Canarie: when did I see thee so put downe?
Neuer in your life I thinke, vnlesse you see Ca- narie put me downe: mee thinkes sometimes I haue no more wit then a Christian, or an ordinary man ha's: but I am a great eater of beefe, and I beleeue that does harme to my wit.
No question.
And
I thought that, I'de forsweare it. Ile ride home to morrow sir
Toby.
Pur-quoy
my deere knight?
What is
purquoy
? Do, or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues, that I haue in fencing dancing, and beare-bayting: O had I but followed the Arts.
Then hadst thou had an excellent head of haire.
Why, would that haue mended my haire?
Past question, for thou seest it will not coole my
nature
But it becoms me wel enough,
dost
not?
Excellent, it hangs like flax on a distaffe: & I hope to see a huswife take thee between her legs, & spin it off.
Faith Ile home to morrow sir
Toby,
your niece wil not be seene, or if she be it's four to one, she'l none of me: the Count himselfe here hard by, wooes her.
Shee'l none o'th Count, she'l not match aboue hir degree, neither in estate, yeares, nor wit: I haue heard her swear't. Tut there's life in't man.
Ile stay a moneth longer. I am a fellow o'th strangest minde i'th world: I delight in Maskes and Re- uels sometimes altogether.
Art thou good at these kicke-chawses Knight?
As any man in Illyria, whatsoeuer he be, vnder the degree of my betters, & yet I will not compare with an old man.
What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?
Faith, I can cut a caper.
And I can cut the Mutton too't.
And I thinke I haue the backe-tricke, simply as strong as any man in Illyria.
Wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore haue these gifts a Curtaine before 'em? Are they like to take dust, like mistris
Mals
picture? Why dost thou not goe to Church in a Galliard, and come home in a Carranto? My verie walke should be a Iigge: I would not so much as make water but in a Sinke-a-pace: What dooest thou meane? Is it a world to hide vertues in? I did thinke by the excellent constitution of thy legge, it was form'd vn- der the starre of a Galliard.
I
, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a dam'd colour'd stocke. Shall we sit about some Reuels?
What shall we do else: were we not borne vnder Taurus?
Taurus? That sides and heart.
No sir, it is leggs and thighes: let me see thee ca- per. Ha, higher: ha, ha, excellent.
Exeunt
Scena Quarta.
Enter Valentine, and Viola in mans attire.
If the Duke continue these fauours towards you
Cesario,
you are like to be much aduanc'd, he hath known you but three dayes, and already you are no stranger.
You either feare his humour, or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his loue. Is he inconstant sir, in his fauours.
No beleeue me.
Enter Duke, Curio, and Attendants.
I thanke you: heere comes the Count.
Who saw
Cesario
hoa?
On your attendance my Lord heere.
Stand you a-while aloofe.
Cesario,
Thou knowst no lesse, but all: I haue vnclasp'd To thee the booke euen of my secret soule. Therefore good youth, addresse thy gate vnto her, Be not deni'de accesse, stand at her doores, And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow Till thou haue audience.
Sure my Noble Lord, If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow As it is spoke, she neuer will admit me.
Be clamorous, and leape all ciuill bounds, Rather then make vnprofited returne,
Say I do speake with her (my Lord) what then?
O then, vnfold the passion of my loue, Surprize her with discourse of my deere faith; It shall become thee well to act my woes: She will attend it better in thy youth, Then in a Nuntio's of more graue aspect.
I thinke not so, my Lord.
Deere Lad, beleeue it; For they shall yet belye thy happy yeeres, That say thou art a man:
Dianas
lip Is not more smooth, and rubious: thy small pipe Is as the maidens organ, shrill, and sound, And all is semblatiue a womans part. I know thy constellation is right apt For this affayre: some foure or fiue attend him, All if you will: for I my selfe am best When least in companie: prosper well in this, And thou shalt liue as freely as thy Lord, To call his fortunes thine.
Ile do my best To woe your Lady: yet a barrefull strife, Who ere I woe, my selfe would be his wife.
Exeunt.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Maria, and Clowne.
Nay, either tell me where thou hast bin, or I will not open my lippes so wide as a brissle may enter, in way of thy excuse: my Lady will hang thee for thy absence.
Let her hang me: hee that is well hang'de in this world, needs to feare no colours.
Make that good.
He shall see none to feare.
A good lenton answer: I can tell thee where y saying was borne, of I feare no colours.
Where good mistris
Mary
?
In the warrs, & that may you be bolde to say in your foolerie.
Well, God giue them wisedome that haue it: & those that are fooles, let them vse their talents.
Yet you will be hang'd for being so long absent, or to be turn'd away: is not that as good as a hanging to you?
Many a good hanging, preuents a bad marriage: and for turning away, let summer beare it out.
You are resolute then?
Not so neyther, but I am resolu'd on two points
That if one breake, the other will hold: or if both breake, your gaskins fall.
Apt in good faith, very apt: well go thy way, if sir
Toby
would leaue drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of
Eues
flesh, as any in Illyria.
Peace you rogue, no more o'that: here comes my Lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best.
Enter Lady Oliuia, with Maluolio.
Wit, and't be thy
will
, put me into good fooling: those wits that thinke they haue thee, doe very oft proue fooles: and I that am sure I lacke thee, may passe for a wise man. For what saies
Quinapalus,
Better a witty foole, then a foolish wit. God blesse thee Lady.
Take the foole away.
Do you not heare fellowes, take away the Ladie.
Go
too
, y'are a dry foole: Ile no more of you: be- sides you grow dis-honest.
Two faults Madona, that drinke & good counsell wil amend: for giue the dry foole drink, then is the foole not dry: bid the dishonest man mend himself, if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if hee cannot, let the Botcher mend him: any thing that's mended, is but patch'd: vertu that transgresses, is but patcht with sinne, and sin that a- mends, is but patcht with vertue. If that this simple Sillogisme will serue, so: if it will not, what remedy? As there is no true Cuckold but calamity, so beauties a flower; The Lady bad take away the foole, therefore I say againe, take her away.
Sir, I bad them take away you.
Misprision in the highest degree. Lady,
Cucullus
non facit monachum:
that's as much to say, as I weare not motley in my braine: good
Madona,
giue mee leaue to proue you a foole.
Can you do it?
Dexteriously, good Madona.
Make your proofe.
I must catechize you for it Madona, Good my Mouse of vertue answer mee.
Well sir, for want of other idlenesse, Ile bide your proofe.
Good Madona, why mournst thou?
Good foole, for my brothers death.
I thinke his soule is in
hell
, Madona.
I know his soule is in heauen, foole.
The more foole (Madona) to mourne for your Brothers soule, being in heauen. Take away the Foole, Gentlemen.
What thinke you of this foole
Maluolio,
doth he not mend?
Yes, and shall do, till the pangs of death shake him: Infirmity that decaies the wise, doth euer make the better foole.
God send you sir, a speedie Infirmity, for the better increasing your folly: Sir
Toby
will be sworn that I am no Fox, but he wil not passe his word for two pence that you are no Foole.
How say you to that
Maluolio
?
I maruell your Ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascall: I saw him put down the other day, with an ordinary foole, that has no more braine then a stone. Looke you now, he's out of his gard already: vnles you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gag'd. I protest I take these Wisemen, that crow so at these set kinde of fooles, no better then the fooles Zanies.
O you are sicke of selfe-loue
Maluolio,
and taste with a distemper'd appetite. To be generous, guiltlesse, and of free disposition, is to take those things for Bird-bolts, that you deeme Cannon bullets: There is no slan- der in an allow'd foole, though he do nothing but rayle; nor no rayling, in a knowne discreet man, though hee do nothing but reproue.
Now Mercury indue thee with leasing, for thou speak'st well of fooles.
Enter Maria.
Madam, there is at the gate, a young Gentle- man, much desires to speake with you.
From the Count
Orsino,
is it?
I know not (Madam) 'tis a faire young man, and well attended.
Who of my people hold him in delay?
Sir
Toby
Madam, your kinsman.
Fetch him off I pray you, he speakes nothing but madman: Fie on him. Go you
Maluolio;
If it be a suit from the Count, I am sicke, or not at home. What you will, to dismisse it.
Exit Maluo.
Now you see sir, how your fooling growes old, & peo- ple dislike it.
Thou hast spoke for vs (Madona) as if thy eldest sonne should be a foole: whose scull, Ioue cramme with braines, for heere he comes.
Enter Sir Toby.
One of thy kin has a most weake
Pia-mater.
By mine honor halfe drunke. What is he at the gate Cosin?
A Gentleman.
A Gentleman? What Gentleman?
'Tis a Gentleman heere. A plague o'these pickle herring: How now Sot.
Good Sir
Toby.
Cosin, Cosin, how haue you come so earely by this Lethargie?
Letcherie, I defie Letchery: there's one at the gate.
I
marry, what is he?
Let him be the diuell
and
he will, I care not: giue me faith say I. Well, it's all one.
Exit
What's a drunken man like, foole?
Like a drown'd man, a foole, and a madde man: One draught aboue heate, makes him a foole, the second maddes him, and a third drownes him.
Go thou and seeke the Crowner, and let him sitte o'my Coz: for he's in the third degree of drinke: hee's drown'd: go looke after him.
He is but mad yet Madona, and the foole shall looke to the madman.
Enter Maluolio.
Madam, yond young fellow sweares hee will speake with you. I told him you were sicke, he takes on him to vnderstand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you. I told him you were asleepe, he seems to haue a fore knowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speake with you. What is to be said to him Ladie, hee's fortified against any deniall.
Tell him, he shall not speake with me.
Ha
's beene told so: and hee sayes hee'l stand at your doore like a Sheriffes post, and be the supporter to a bench, but hee'l speake with you.
What kinde o'man is he?
Why of mankinde.
What manner of man?
Of verie
ill
manner: hee'l speake with you, will you, or no.
Of what personage, and yeeres is he?
Not yet old enough for a man, nor yong enough for a boy: as a squash is before tis a pescod, or a Codling when tis almost an Apple: Tis with him in standing wa- ter, betweene boy and man. He is verie well-fauour'd, and he speakes verie shrewishly: One would thinke his mothers milke were scarse out of him.
Let him approach: Call in my Gentlewoman.
Gentlewoman, my Lady calles.
Exit.
Enter Maria.
Giue me my vaile: come throw it ore my face, Wee'l once more heare
Orsinos
Embassie.
Enter Violenta.
The honorable Ladie of the house, which is she?
Speake to me, I shall answer for her: your
will
.
Most radiant, exquisite, and vnmatchable beau- tie. I pray you tell me if this bee the Lady of the house, for I neuer saw her. I would bee loath to cast away my speech: for besides that it is excellently well pend, I haue taken great paines to con it. Good Beauties, let mee su- staine no scorne; I am very comptible, euen to the least sinister vsage.
Whence came you sir?
I can say little more then I haue studied, & that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, giue mee modest assurance, if you be the Ladie of the house, that
I
may proceede in my speech.
Are you a Comedian?
No my profound heart: and yet (by the verie phangs of malice, I sweare) I am not that I play. Are you the Ladie of the house?
If I do not vsurpe my selfe, I am.
Most certaine, if you are she, you do vsurp your selfe: for what is yours to bestowe, is, not yours to re- serue. But this is from my Commission: I will on with my speech in your praise, and then shew you the heart of my message.
Come to what is important in't: I forgiue you the praise.
Alas, I tooke great paines to studie it, and 'tis Poeticall.
It is the more like to be feigned, I pray you keep it in. I heard you were sawcy at my gates, & allowd your approach rather to wonder at you, then to heare you. If you be not mad, be gone: if you haue reason, be breefe: 'tis not that time of Moone with me, to make one in so skipping a dialogue.
Will you hoyst sayle sir, here lies your way.
No good swabber, I am to hull here a little lon- ger. Some mollification for your Giant, sweete Ladie; tell me your minde, I am a messenger.
Sure you haue some hiddeous matter to deliuer, when the curtesie of it is so fearefull. Speake your office.
It alone concernes your eare: I bring no ouer- ture of warre, no taxation of homage; I hold the Olyffe in my hand: my words are as full of peace, as matter.
Yet you began rudely. What are you? What would you?
The rudenesse that hath appear'd in mee, haue I learn'd from my entertainment. What I am, and what I would, are as secret as maiden-head: to your eares, Di- uinity; to any others, prophanation.
Giue vs the place alone, We will heare this diuinitie. Now sir, what is your text?
Most sweet Ladie.
A comfortable doctrine, and much may bee saide of it. Where lies your Text?
In
Orsinoes
bosome.
In his bosome? In what chapter of his bosome?
To answer by the method, in the first of his hart.
O, I haue read it: it is heresie. Haue you no more to say?
Good Madam, let me see your face.
Haue you any Commission from your Lord, to negotiate with my face: you are now out of your Text: but we will draw the Curtain, and shew you the picture. Looke you sir, such a one I was this present: Ist not well done?
Excellently done, if God did all.
'Tis in graine sir, 'twill endure winde and wea- ther.
Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white, Natures owne sweet, and cunning hand laid on: Lady, you are the cruell'st
shee
aliue, If you will leade these graces to the graue, And leaue the world no copie.
O sir, I will not be so hard-hearted: I will giue out diuers scedules of my beautie. It shalbe Inuentoried and euery particle and vtensile labell'd to my
will
: As, Item two lippes indifferent redde, Item two grey eyes, with lids to them: Item, one necke, one chin, & so forth. Were you sent hither to praise me?
I see you what you are, you are too proud: But if you were the diuell, you are faire: My Lord, and master loues you: O such loue Could be but recompenc'd, though you were crown'd The non-pareil of beautie.
How does he loue me?
With adorations, fertill teares, With groanes that thunder loue, with sighes of fire.
Your Lord does know my mind, I cannot loue him Yet I suppose him vertuous, know him noble, Of great estate, of fresh and stainlesse youth; In voyces well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant, And in dimension, and the shape of nature, A gracious person; But yet I cannot loue him: He might haue tooke his answer long ago.
If I did loue you in my masters flame, With such a suffring, such a deadly life: In your deniall, I would finde no sence, I would not vnderstand it.
Why, what would you?
Make me a willow Cabine at your gate, And call vpon my soule within the house, Write loyall Cantons of contemned loue, And sing them lowd euen in the dead of night: Hallow your name to the reuerberate hilles, And make the babling Gossip of the aire, Cry out
Oliuia:
O you should not rest Betweene the elements of ayre, and earth, But you should pittie me.
You might do much: What is your Parentage?
Aboue my fortunes, yet my state is well: I am a Gentleman.
Get you to your Lord: I cannot loue him: let him send no more, Vnlesse (perchance) you come to me againe, To tell me how he takes it: Fare you well: I thanke you for your paines: spend this for mee.
I am no feede poast, Lady; keepe your purse, My Master, not my selfe, lackes recompence. Loue make his heart of flint, that you shal loue, And let your feruour like my masters be, Plac'd in contempt: Farwell fayre crueltie.
Exit
What is your Parentage? Aboue my fortunes, yet my state is well; I am a Gentleman. Ile be sworne thou art, Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbes, actions, and spirit, Do giue thee fiue-fold blazon: not too fast: soft, soft, Vnlesse the Master were the man. How now? Euen so quickly may one catch the plague? Me thinkes I feele this youths perfections With an inuisible, and subtle stealth To creepe in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. What hoa,
Maluolio.
Enter Maluolio.
Heere Madam, at your seruice.
Run after that same peeuish Messenger The Countes man: he left this Ring behinde him Would I, or not: tell him, Ile none of it. Desire him not to flatter with his Lord, Nor hold him vp with hopes, I am not for him: If that the youth will come this way to morrow, Ile giue him reasons for't: hie thee
Maluolio.
Madam, I will.
Exit.
I do I know not what, and feare to finde Mine eye too great a flatterer for my minde: Fate, shew thy force, our selues we do not owe, What is decreed, must be:
and
be this so.
Finis, Actus primus.
Actus Secundus, Scaena prima.
Enter Antonio & Sebastian.
Will you stay no longer: nor will you not that I go with you.
By your patience, no: my starres shine darkely ouer me; the malignancie of my fate, might perhaps di- stemper yours; therefore I shall craue of you your leaue, that I may beare my euils alone. It were a bad recom- pence for your loue, to lay any of them on you.
Let me yet know of you, whither you are bound.
No sooth sir: my determinate voyage is meere extrauagancie. But I perceiue in you so excellent a touch of modestie, that you will not extort from me, what I am willing to keepe in: therefore it charges me in manners, the rather to expresse my selfe: you must know of mee then
Antonio,
my name is
Sebastian
(which I call'd
Rodo-rigo
) my father was that
Sebastian
of
Messaline,
whom I know you haue heard of. He left behinde him, my selfe, and a sister, both borne in an houre: if the Heauens had beene pleas'd, would we had so ended. But you sir, al-ter'd that, for some houre before you tooke me from the breach of the sea, was my sister drown'd.
Alas the day.
A Lady sir, though it was said shee much resem- bled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but thogh I could not with such estimable wonder ouer-farre be- leeue that, yet thus farre I will boldly publish her, shee bore a minde that enuy could not but call faire: Shee is drown'd already sir with salt water, though I seeme to drowne her remembrance againe with more.
Pardon me sir, your bad entertainment.
O good
Antonio,
forgiue me your trouble.
If you will not murther me for my loue, let mee be your seruant.
If you will not vndo what you haue done, that is kill him, whom you haue recouer'd, desire it not. Fare ye well at once, my bosome is full of kindnesse, and I am yet so neere the manners of my mother, that vpon the least occasion more, mine eyes will tell tales of me: I am bound to the Count Orsino's Court, farewell.
Exit
The gentlenesse of all the gods go with thee: I haue many enemies in Orsino's Court, Else would I very shortly see thee there: But come what may, I do adore thee so, That danger shall seeme sport, and I will go.
Exit.
Scaena Secunda.
Enter Viola and Maluolio, at seuerall doores.
Were not you eu'n now, with the Countesse
O-liuia
?
Euen now sir, on a moderate pace, I haue since a-riu'd but hither.
She returnes this Ring to you (sir) you might haue saued mee my paines, to haue taken it away your selfe. She adds moreouer, that you should put your Lord into a desperate assurance, she will none of him. And one thing more, that you be neuer so hardie to come againe in his affaires, vnlesse it bee to report your Lords taking of this: receiue it so.
She tooke the Ring of me, Ile none of it.
Come sir, you peeuishly threw it to her: and her
will
is, it should be so return'd: If it bee worth stoo- ping for, there it lies, in your eye: if not, bee it his that findes it.
Exit.
I left no Ring with her: what meanes this Lady? Fortune forbid my out-side haue not charm'd her: She made good view of me, indeed so much, That me thought her eyes had lost her tongue, For she did speake in starts distractedly. She loues me sure, the cunning of her passion Inuites me in this churlish messenger: None of my Lords Ring? Why he sent her none; I am the man, if it be so, as tis, Poore Lady, she were better loue a dreame: Disguise, I see thou art a wickednesse, Wherein the pregnant enemie does much. How easie is it, for the proper false In womens waxen hearts to set their formes: Alas, O frailtie is the cause, not wee, For such as we are made, if such we bee: How will this fadge? My master loues her deerely, And I (poore monster) fond asmuch on him: And she (mistaken) seemes to dote on me: What will become of this? As I am man, My state is desperate for my maisters loue: As I am woman (now alas the day) What thriftlesse sighes shall poore
Oliuia
breath? O time, thou must vntangle this, not I, It is too hard a knot for me t' vnty.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew.
Approach Sir
Andrew:
not to bee
a
bedde after midnight, is to be vp betimes, and
Deliculo surgere,
thou know'st.
Nay by my troth I know not: but I know, to be vp late, is to be vp late.
A false conclusion: I hate it as an vnfill'd Canne. To be vp after midnight, and to go to bed then is early: so that to go to bed after midnight, is to goe to bed be- times. Does not our liues consist of the foure Ele- ments?
Faith so they say, but I thinke it rather consists of eating and drinking.
Th'art a scholler; let vs therefore eate and drinke
Marian
I say, a stoope of wine.
Enter Clowne.
Heere comes the foole yfaith.
How now my harts: Did you neuer see the Pic- ture of we three?
Welcome asse, now let's haue a catch.
By my troth the foole has an excellent breast. I had rather then forty shillings I had such a legge, and so sweet a breath to sing, as the foole has. Insooth thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spok'st of
Pigrogromitus,
of the
Vapians
passing the Equinoctial of
Queubus:
'twas very good yfaith: I sent thee sixe pence for thy Lemon, hadst it?
I did impeticos thy gratillity: for
Maluolios
nose is no Whip-stocke. My Lady has a white hand, and the Mermidons are no bottle-ale houses.
Excellent: Why this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now a song.
Come on, there is sixe pence for you. Let's haue a song.
There's a testrill of me too: if one knight giue a
Would you haue a loue-song, or a song of good life?
A loue song, a loue song.
I
,
I
. I care not for good life.
.
O Mistris mine where are you roming? O stay and heare, your true loues coming, That can sing both high and low. Trip no further prettie sweeting. Iourneys end in louers meeting, Euery wise mans sonne doth know.
Excellent good, ifaith.
Good, good.
What is loue, tis not heereafter, Present mirth, hath present laughter: What's to come, is still vnsure. In delay there lies no plentie, Then come kisse me sweet and twentie: Youths a stuffe will not endure.
A mellifluous voyce, as I am true knight.
A contagious breath.
Very sweet, and contagious ifaith.
To heare by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make the Welkin dance indeed? Shall wee rowze the night-Owle in a Catch, that will drawe three soules out of one Weauer? Shall we do that?
And
you loue me, let's doo't: I am dogge at a Catch.
Byrlady sir, and some dogs will catch well.
Most certaine: Let our Catch be,
Thou Knaue.
Hold thy peace, thou Knaue
knight. I shall be con-strain'd in't, to call thee knaue, Knight.
'Tis not the first time I haue constrained one to call me knaue. Begin foole: it begins,
Hold thy peace.
I shall neuer begin if I hold my peace.
Good ifaith: Come begin.
Catch sung
Enter Maria.
What a catterwalling doe you keepe heere? If my Ladie haue not call'd vp her Steward
Maluolio,
and bid him turne you out of doores, neuer trust me.
My Lady's a
Catayan,
we are politicians,
Maluolio
s a Peg-a-ramsie, and
Three merry men be wee.
Am not I consanguinious? Am I not of her blood: tilly vally. La- die,
There dwelt a man in Babylon, Lady, Lady.
Beshrew me, the knights in admirable fooling.
I
, he do's well enough if he be dispos'd, and so do I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it more naturall.
O the twelfe day of December.
For the loue
o
' God peace.
Enter Maluolio.
My masters are you mad? Or what are you? Haue you no wit, manners, nor honestie, but to gabble like Tinkers at this time of night? Do yee make an Ale- house of my Ladies house, that ye squeak out your Cozi- ers Catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?
We did keepe time sir in our Catches. Snecke vp.
Sir Toby,
I must be round with you. My Lady bad me tell you, that though she harbors you as her kins- man, she's nothing ally'd to your disorders. If you can separate your selfe and your misdemeanors, you are wel- come to the house: if not, and it would please you to take leaue of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell.
Farewell deere heart, since I must needs be gone.
Nay good Sir
Toby.
His eyes do shew his dayes are almost done.
Is't euen so?
But I will neuer dye.
Sir
Toby
there you lye.
This is much credit to you.
Shall I bid him go.
What
and
if you do?
Shall I bid him go, and spare not?
O no, no, no, no, you dare not.
Out
o
' tune sir, ye lye: Art any more then a Stew- ard? Dost thou thinke because thou art vertuous, there shall be no more Cakes and Ale?
Yes by
S[aint].
Anne, and Ginger shall bee hotte y'th mouth too.
Th'art i'th right. Goe sir, rub your Chaine with crums. A stope of Wine
Maria.
Mistris Mary, if you priz'd my Ladies fauour at any thing more then contempt, you would not giue meanes for this vnciuill rule; she shall know of it by this hand.
Exit
Go shake your eares.
'Twere as good a deede as to drink when a mans
a
hungrie, to challenge him the field, and then to breake promise with him, and make a foole of him.
Doo't knight, Ile write thee a Challenge: or Ile deliuer thy indignation to him by word of mouth.
Sweet Sir Toby be patient for to night: Since the youth of the Counts was to day with my Lady, she is much out of quiet. For Monsieur Maluolio, let me alone with him: If I do not gull him into a nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not thinke I haue witte e- nough to lye straight in my bed: I know I can do it.
Possesse vs, possesse vs, tell vs something of him.
Marrie sir, sometimes he is a kinde of Puritane.
O, if I thought that, Ide beate him like a dogge.
What for being a Puritan, thy exquisite reason, deere knight.
I haue no exquisite reason for't, but I haue reason good enough.
The diu'll a Puritane that hee is, or any thing constantly but a time-pleaser, an affection'd Asse, that cons State without booke, and vtters it by great swarths. The best perswaded of himselfe: so cram'd (as he thinkes) with excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith, that all that looke on him, loue him: and on that vice in him, will my reuenge finde notable cause to worke.
What wilt thou do?
I will drop in his way some obscure Epistles of loue, wherein by the colour of his beard, the shape of his legge, the manner of his gate, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complection, he shall finde himselfe most feelingly personated. I can write very like my Ladie your Neece, on a forgotten matter wee can hardly make distinction of our hands.
Excellent, I smell a deuice.
I hau't in my nose too.
He shall thinke by the Letters that thou wilt drop that they come from my Neece, and that shee's in loue with him.
My purpose is indeed a horse of that colour.
And your horse now would make him an Asse.
Asse, I doubt not.
O twill be admirable.
Sport royall I warrant you: I know my Phy- sicke will worke with him, I will plant you two, and let the Foole make a third, where he shall finde the Letter: obserue his construction of it: For this night to bed, and dreame on the euent: Farewell.
Exit
Good night
Penthisilea.
Before me she's a good wench.
She's a beagle true bred, and one that adores me: what o'that?
I was ador'd once too.
Let's to bed knight: Thou hadst neede send for more money.
If I cannot recouer your Neece, I am a foule way out.
Send for money knight, if thou hast her not i'th end, call me Cut.
If I do not, neuer trust me, take it how you will.
Come, come, Ile go burne some Sacke, tis too late to go to bed now: Come knight, come knight.
Exeunt
Scena Quarta.
Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and others.
Giue me some Musick; Now good morow frends. Now good
Cesario,
but that peece of song, That old and Anticke song we heard last night; Me thought it did releeue my passion much, More then light ayres, and recollected termes Of these most briske and giddy-paced times. Come, but one verse.
He is not heere (so please your Lordshippe) that should sing it?
Who was it?
Feste
the Iester my Lord, a foole that the Ladie
Oliuiaes
Father tooke much delight in. He is about the house.
Seeke him out, and play the tune the while.
Musicke playes.
Come hither Boy, if euer thou shalt loue In the sweet pangs of it, remember me: For such as I am, all true Louers are, Vnstaid and skittish in all motions else, Saue in the constant image of the creature That is belou'd. How dost thou like this tune?
It giues a verie eccho to the seate Where loue is thron'd.
Thou dost speake masterly, My life vpon't, yong though thou art, thine eye Hath staid vpon some fauour that it loues: Hath it not boy?
A little, by your fauour.
What kinde of woman ist?
Of your complection.
She is not worth thee then. What yeares ifaith?
About your yeeres my Lord.
Too old by heauen: Let still the woman take An elder then her selfe, so weares she to him; So swayes she leuell in her husbands heart: For boy, howeuer we do praise our selues, Our fancies are more giddie and vnfirme, More longing, wauering, sooner lost and worne, Then womens are.
I thinke it well my Lord.
Then let thy Loue be yonger then thy selfe, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent: For women are as Roses, whose faire flowre Being once displaid, doth fall that verie howre.
And so they are: alas, that they are so: To die, euen when they to perfection grow.
Enter Curio & Clowne.
O fellow come, the song we had last night: Marke it Cesario, it is old and plaine; The Spinsters and the Knitters in the Sun, And the free maides that weaue their thred with bones, Do vse to chaunt it: it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of loue, Like the old age.
Are you ready Sir?
I
prethee sing.
Musicke.
The Song.
Come away, come away death,
And
in sad cypresse let me be laide. Fye away, fie away breath, I am slaine by a faire cruell maide:
My shrowd of white, stuck all with Ew, O prepare it. My part of death no one so true did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweete On my blacke coffin, let there be strewne: Not a friend, not a friend greet My poore corpes, where my bones shall be throwne:
A thousand thousand sighes to saue, lay me o where
Sad true louer neuer find my graue, to weepe there.
There's for thy paines.
No paines sir, I take pleasure in singing sir.
Ile pay thy pleasure then.
Truely sir, and pleasure will be paide one time, or another.
Giue me now leaue, to leaue thee.
Now the melancholly God protect thee, and the Tailor make thy doublet of changeable Taffata, for thy minde is a very Opall. I would haue men of such constan- cie put to Sea, that their businesse might be euery thing, and their intent euerie where, for that's it, that alwayes makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell.
Exit
Let all the rest giue place: Once more
Cesario,
Get thee to yond same soueraigne crueltie: Tell her my loue, more noble then the world Prizes not quantitie of dirtie lands, The parts that fortune hath bestow'd vpon her: Tell her I hold as giddily as Fortune: But 'tis that miracle, and Queene of Iems That nature prankes her in, attracts my soule.
But if she cannot loue you sir.
It cannot be so answer'd.
Sooth but you must. Say that some Lady, as perhappes there is, Hath for your loue as great a pang of heart As you haue for
Oliuia:
you cannot loue her: You tel her so: Must she not then be answer'd?
There is no womans sides Can bide the beating of so strong a passion, As loue doth giue my heart: no womans heart So bigge, to hold so much, they lacke retention. Alas, their loue may be call'd appetite, No motion of the Liuer, but the Pallat, That suffer surfet, cloyment, and reuolt, But mine is all as hungry as the Sea, And can digest as much, make no compare Betweene that loue a woman can beare me, And that I owe
Oliuia.
I
but I know.
What dost thou knowe?
Too well what loue women to men may owe: In faith they are as true of heart, as we. My Father had a daughter lou'd a man As it might be perhaps, were I a woman I should your Lordship.
And what's her history?
A blanke my Lord: she neuer told her loue, But let concealment like a worme i'th budde Feede on her damaske cheeke: she pin'd in thought, And with a greene and yellow melancholly, She sate like Patience on a Monument, Smiling at greefe. Was not this loue indeede? We men may say more, sweare more, but indeed Our shewes are more then
will
: for still we proue Much in our vowes, but little in our loue.
But di'de thy sister of her loue my Boy?
I am all the daughters of my Fathers house, And all the brothers too: and yet I know not. Sir, shall I to this Lady?
I
that's the Theame, To her in haste: giue her this Iewell: say, My loue can giue no place, bide no denay.
exeunt
Scena Quinta.
Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.
Come thy wayes Signior
Fabian.
Nay Ile come: if I loose a scruple of this sport, let me be boyl'd to death with Melancholly.
Wouldst thou not be glad to haue the niggard- ly Rascally sheepe-biter, come by some notable shame?
I would exult man: you know he brought me out
o
' fauour with my Lady, about a Beare-baiting heere.
To anger him wee'l haue the Beare againe, and we will foole him blacke and blew, shall we not sir
An-drew
?
And
we do not, it is pittie of our liues.
Enter Maria.
Heere comes the little villaine: How now my Mettle of India?
Get ye all three into the box tree:
Maluolio
's comming downe this walke, he has beene yonder i'the Sunne practising behauiour to his own shadow this halfe houre: obserue him for the loue of Mockerie: for I know this Letter wil make a contemplatiue Ideot of him. Close in the name of ieasting, lye thou there: for heere comes the Trowt, that must be caught with tickling.
Exit
Enter Maluolio.
'Tis but Fortune, all is fortune.
Maria
once told me she did affect me, and I haue heard her self come thus neere, that should shee fancie, it should bee one of my complection. Besides she vses me with a more ex- alted respect, then any one else that followes her. What should I thinke on't?
Heere's an ouer-weening rogue.
Oh peace: Contemplation makes a rare Turkey Cocke of him, how he iets vnder his aduanc'd plumes.
Slight I could so beate the Rogue.
Peace I say.
To be Count
Maluolio.
Ah Rogue.
Pistoll him, pistoll him.
Peace, peace.
There is example for't: The Lady of the
Stra-chy,
married the yeoman of the wardrobe.
Fie on him Iezabel.
O peace, now he's deepely in: looke how imagi- nation blowes him.
Hauing beene three moneths married to her, sitting in my state.
O for a stone-bow to hit him in the eye.
Calling my Officers about me, in my branch'd Veluet gowne: hauing come from a day bedde, where I haue left
Oliuia
sleeping.
Fire and Brimstone.
O peace, peace.
And then to haue the humor of state: and after a demure trauaile of regard: telling them I knowe my place, as I would they should doe theirs: to aske for my kinsman
Toby.
Boltes and shackles.
Oh peace, peace, peace, now, now.
Seauen of my people with an obedient start, make out for him: I frowne the while, and perchance winde vp my watch, or play with my some rich Iewell:
Toby
approaches; curtsies there to me.
Shall this fellow liue?
Though our silence be drawne from vs with cars, yet peace.
I extend my hand to him thus: quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of controll.
And do's not
Toby
take you a blow o'the lippes, then?
Saying, Cosine
Toby,
my Fortunes hauing cast me on your Neece, giue me this prerogatiue of speech.
What, what?
You must amend your drunkennesse.
Out scab.
Nay patience, or we breake the sinewes of our plot?
Besides you waste the treasure of your time, with a foolish knight.
That's mee I warrant you.
One sir
Andrew.
I knew 'twas I, for many do call mee foole.
What employment haue we heere?
Now is the Woodcocke neere the gin.
Oh peace, and the spirit of humors intimate rea- ding aloud to him.
By my life this is my Ladies hand: these bee her very
C's,
her
V
's,
and her
T's,
and thus makes shee her great
P's.
It is in contempt of question her hand.
Her
C's,
her
V
's,
and her
T's:
why that?
To the vnknowne belou'd, this, and my good Wishes:
Her very Phrases: By your leaue wax. Soft, and the im- pressure her
Lucrece,
with which she vses to seale: tis my Lady: To whom should this be?
This winnes him, Liuer and all.
Ioue knowes I loue, but who, Lips do not mooue, no
man must know.
No man must know. What followes? The numbers alter'd: No man must know, If this should be thee
Maluolio
?
Marrie hang thee brocke.
I may command where I adore, but silence like a Lu- cresse knife:
With bloodlesse stroke my heart doth gore, M.O.A.I. doth sway my life.
A fustian riddle.
Excellent Wench, say I.
M.O.A.I.
doth sway my life. Nay but first let me see, let me see, let me see.
What dish
a
poyson has she drest him?
And with what wing the stallion checkes at it?
I may command, where I adore:
Why shee may command me: I serue her, she is my Ladie. Why this is euident to any formall capacitie. There is no obstruction in this, and the end: What should that Alphabeticall po- sition portend, if I could make that resemble something in me? Softly,
M.O.A.I.
O
I
, make vp that, he is now at a cold sent.
Sowter will cry vpon't for all this, though it bee as ranke as a Fox.
M. Maluolio, M.
why that begins my name.
Did not I say he would worke it out, the Curre is excellent at faults.
M.
But then there is no consonancy in the sequell that suffers vnder probation:
A
.
should follow, but
O
.
does.
And
O
shall end, I hope.
I
, or Ile cudgell him, and make him cry
O.
And then
I
.
comes behind.
I
,
and
you had any eye behinde you, you might see more detraction at your heeles, then Fortunes before you.
M,O,A,I.
This simulation is not as the former: and yet to crush this a little, it would bow to mee, for e- uery one of these Letters are in my name. Soft, here fol- lowes prose:
If this fall into thy hand, reuolue.
In my stars I am aboue thee, but be not affraid of greatnesse: Some are become great, some atcheeues greatnesse, and some haue greatnesse thrust vppon em. Thy fates open theyr hands, let thy blood and spirit embrace them, and to in- vre thy selfe to what thou art like to be: cast thy humble slough, and appeare fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with seruants: Let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thy selfe into the tricke of singularitie. Shee thus aduises thee, that sighes for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings, and wish'd to see thee euer crosse garter'd: I say remember, goe
too
, thou art made if thou desir'st to be so: If not, let me see thee a ste- ward still, the fellow of seruants, and not woorthie to touch Fortunes fingers Farewell, Shee that would alter seruices with thee, the fortunate vnhappy daylight and champian discouers not more: This is open, I will bee proud, I will reade politicke Authours, I will baffle Sir
Toby,
I will wash off grosse acquaintance, I will be point deuise, the very man. I do not now foole my selfe, to let imagination iade mee; for euery reason excites to this, that my Lady loues me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late, shee did praise my legge being crosse-garter'd, and in this she manifests her selfe to my loue, & with a kinde of iniunction driues mee to these habites of her liking. I thanke my starres, I am happy: I will bee strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and crosse Garter'd, euen with the swiftnesse of putting on. Ioue, and my starres be praised. Heere is yet a postscript.
Thou canst
not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainst my loue, let
it appeare in thy smiling, thy smiles become thee well. There-fore
in my presence still smile, deero my sweete, I prethee.
Ioue I thanke thee, I will smile, I wil do euery thing that thou wilt haue me.
Exit
I will not giue my part of this sport for a pensi- on of thousands to be paid from the Sophy.
I could marry this wench for this deuice.
So could I too.
And aske no other dowry with her, but such ano- ther iest.
Enter Maria.
Nor I neither.
Heere comes my noble gull catcher.
Wilt thou set thy foote o'my necke.
Or o'mine either?
Shall I play my freedome at tray-trip, and becom thy bondslaue?
Ifaith, or I either?
Why, thou hast put him in such a dreame, that when the image of it leaues him, he must run mad.
Nay but say true, do's it worke vpon him?
Like Aqua vite with a Midwife.
If you will then see the fruites of the sport, mark his first approach before my Lady: hee will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhorres, and crosse garter'd, a fashion shee detests: and hee will smile vpon her, which will now be so vnsuteable to her dispo- sition, being addicted to a melancholly, as shee is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt: if you wil see it follow me.
To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent diuell of wit.
Ile make one too.
Exeunt.
Finis Actus secundus
Actus Tertius, Scaena prima.
Enter Viola and Clowne.
Saue thee Friend and thy Musick: dost thou liue by thy Tabor?
No sir, I liue by the Church.
Art thou a Churchman?
No such matter sir, I do liue by the Church: For, I do liue at my house, and my house dooth stand by the Church.
So thou maist say the Kings lyes by a begger, if a begger dwell neer him: or the Church stands by thy Ta- bor, if thy Tabor stand by the Church.
You haue said sir: To see this age: A sentence is but a cheu'rill gloue to a good witte, how quickely the wrong side may be turn'd outward.
Nay that's certaine: they that dally nicely with words, may quickely make them wanton.
I would therefore my sister had had no name Sir.
Why man?
Why sir, her names a word, and to dallie with that word, might make my sister wanton: But indeede, words are very Rascals, since bonds disgrac'd them.
Thy reason man?
Troth sir, I can yeeld you none without wordes, and wordes are growne so false, I am loath to proue rea- son with them.
I warrant thou art a merry fellow, and car'st for nothing.
Not so sir, I do care for something: but in my con- science sir, I do not care for you: if that be to care for no- thing sir, I would it would make you inuisible.
Art not thou the Lady
Oliuia's
foole?
No indeed sir, the Lady
Oliuia
has no folly, shee will keepe no foole sir, till she be married, and fooles are as like husbands, as Pilchers are to Herrings, the Hus- bands the bigger, I am indeede not her foole, but hir cor- rupter of words.
I saw thee late at the Count
Orsino's.
Foolery sir, does walke about the Orbe like the Sun, it shines euery where. I would be sorry sir, but the Foole should be as oft with your Master, as with my Mi- stris: I thinke I saw your wisedome there.
Nay,
and
thou passe vpon me, Ile no more with thee. Hold there's expences for thee.
Now Ioue in his next commodity of hayre, send thee a beard.
By my troth Ile tell thee, I am almost sicke for one, though I would not haue it grow on my chinne. Is thy Lady within?
Would not a paire of these haue bred sir?
Yes being kept together, and put to vse.
I would play Lord
Pandarus
of
Phrygia
sir, to bring a
Cressida
to this
Troylus.
I vnderstand you sir, tis well begg'd.
The matter I hope is not great sir; begging, but a begger:
Cressida
was a begger. My Lady is within sir. I will conster to them whence you come, who you are, and what you would are out of my welkin, I might say Ele- ment, but the word is ouer-worne.
exit
This fellow is wise enough to play the foole, And to do that well, craues a kinde of wit: He must obserue their mood on whom he iests, The quality of persons, and the time: And like the Haggard, checke at euery Feather That comes before his eye. This is a practice, As full of labour as a Wise-mans
Art
: For folly that he wisely shewes, is fit; But wisemens folly falne, quite taint their wit.
Enter Sir Toby and Andrew.
Saue you Gentleman.
And you sir.
Dieu vou guard Monsieur.
Et vouz ousie vostre seruiture.
I hope sir, you are, and I am yours.
Will you incounter the house, my Neece is desi- rous you should enter, if your trade be to her.
I am bound to your Neece sir, I meane she is the list of my voyage.
Taste your legges sir, put them to motion.
My legges do better vnderstand me sir, then I vn- derstand what you meane by bidding me taste my legs.
I meane to go sir, to enter.
I will answer you with gate and entrance, but we are preuented.
Enter Oliuia, and Gentlewoman.
Most excellent accomplish'd Lady, the heauens raine O- dours on you.
That youth's a rare Courtier, raine odours, wel.
My matter hath no voice Lady, but to your owne most pregnant and vouchsafed eare.
Odours, pregnant, and vouchsafed: Ile get 'em all three already.
Let the Garden doore be shut, and leaue mee to my hearing. Giue me your hand sir.
My dutie Madam, and most humble seruice.
What is your name?
Cesario
is your seruants name, faire Princesse.
My seruant sir? 'Twas neuer merry world, Since lowly feigning was call'd complement: Y'are seruant to the Count
Orsino
youth.
And he is yours, and his must needs be yours: Your seruants seruant, is your seruant Madam.
For him, I thinke not on him: for his thoughts, Would they were blankes, rather then fill'd with me.
Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts On his behalfe.
O by your leaue I pray you. I bad you neuer speake againe of him; But would you vndertake another suite I had rather heare you, to solicit that, Then Musicke from the spheares.
Deere Lady.
Giue me leaue, beseech you: I did send, After the last enchantment you did heare, A Ring in chace of you. So did I abuse My selfe, my seruant, and I feare me you: Vnder your hard construction must I sit, To force that on you in a shamefull cunning Which you knew none of yours. What might you think? Haue you not set mine Honor at the stake, And baited it with all th' vnmuzled thoughts That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiuing Enough is shewne, a Cipresse, not a bosome, Hides my heart: so let me heare you speake.
I pittie you.
That's a degree to loue.
No not a grize: for tis a vulgar proofe That verie oft we pitty enemies.
Why then me thinkes 'tis time to smile agen: O world, how apt the poore are to be proud? If one should be a prey, how much the better To fall before the Lion, then the Wolfe?
Clocke strikes.
The clocke vpbraides me with the waste of time: Be not affraid good youth, I will not haue you, And yet when wit and youth is come to haruest, Your wife is like to reape a proper man: There lies your way, due West.
Then Westward hoe: Grace and good disposition attend your Ladyship: You'l nothing Madam to my Lord, by me:
Stay: I prethee tell me what thou thinkst of me?
That you do thinke you are not what you are.
If I thinke so, I thinke the same of you.
Then thinke you right: I am not what I am.
I would you were, as I would haue you be.
Would it be better Madam, then I am? I wish it might, for now I am your foole.
O what a deale of scorne, lookes beautifull? In the contempt and anger of his lip, A murdrous guilt shewes not it selfe more soone, Then loue that would seeme hid: Loues night, is noone.
Cesario,
by the Roses of the Spring, By maid-hood, honor, truth, and euery thing, I loue thee so, that maugre all thy pride, Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide: Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause: But rather reason thus, with reason fetter; Loue sought, is good: but giuen vnsought, is better.
By innocence I sweare, and by my youth, I haue one heart, one bosome, and one truth, And that no woman has, nor neuer none Shall mistris be of it, saue I alone. And so adieu good Madam, neuer more, Will I my Masters teares to you deplore.
Yet come againe: for thou perhaps mayst moue That heart which now abhorres, to like his loue.
Exeunt
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian.
No faith, Ile not stay a iot longer:
Thy reason deere venom, giue thy reason.
You must needes yeelde your reason, Sir
An-drew
?
Marry I saw your Neece do more fauours to the Counts Seruing-man, then euer she bestow'd vpon mee: I saw't i'th Orchard.
Did she see
the
while, old boy, tell me that.
As plaine as I see you now.
This was a great argument of loue in her toward you.
S'light; will you make an Asse o'me.
I will proue it legitimate sir, vpon the Oathes of iudgement, and reason.
And they haue beene grand Iurie men, since before
Noah
was a Saylor.
Shee did shew fauour to the youth in your sight, onely to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in your Heart, and brimstone in your Liuer: you should then haue accosted her, and with some excel- lent iests, fire-new from the mint, you should haue bangd the youth into dumbenesse: this was look'd for at your hand, and this was baulkt: the double gilt of this oppor- tunitie you let time wash off, and you are now sayld into the North of my Ladies opinion, where you will hang like an ysickle on a Dutchmans beard, vnlesse you do re- deeme it, by some laudable attempt, either of valour or policie.
And't be any way, it must be with Valour, for policie I hate: I had as liefe be a Brownist, as a Politi- cian.
Why then build me thy fortunes vpon the basis of valour. Challenge me the Counts youth to fight with him hurt him in eleuen places, my Neece shall take note of it, and assure thy selfe, there is no loue-Broker in the world, can more preuaile in mans commendation with woman, then report of valour.
There is no way but this sir
Andrew.
Will either of you beare me a challenge to him?
Go, write it in a martial hand, be curst and briefe: it is no matter how wittie, so it bee eloquent, and full of inuention: taunt him with the license of Inke: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amisse, and as ma- ny Lyes, as will lye in thy sheete of paper, although the sheete were bigge enough for the bedde of
Ware
in Eng- land, set 'em downe, go about it. Let there bee gaulle e- nough in thy inke, though thou write with a Goose-pen, no matter: about it.
Where shall I finde you?
Wee'l call thee at the Cubiculo: Go.
Exit Sir Andrew.
This is a deere Manakin to you Sir
Toby.
I haue beene deere to him lad, some two thousand strong, or so.
We shall haue a rare Letter from him; but you'le not deliuer't.
Neuer trust me then: and by all meanes stirre on the youth to an answer. I thinke Oxen and waine-ropes cannot hale them together. For
Andrew,
if he were open'd and you finde so much blood in his Liuer, as will clog the foote of a flea, Ile eate the rest of th' anatomy.
And his opposit the youth beares in his visage no great presage of cruelty.
Enter Maria.
Looke where the youngest Wren of mine comes.
If you desire the spleene, and will laughe your selues into stitches, follow me; yond gull
Maluolio
is tur- ned Heathen, a verie Renegatho; for there is no christian that meanes to be saued by beleeuing rightly, can euer beleeue such impossible passages of grossenesse. Hee's in yellow stockings.
And crosse garter'd?
Most villanously: like a Pedant that keepes a Schoole i'th Church: I haue dogg'd him like his murthe- rer. He does obey euery point of the Letter that I dropt, to betray him: He does smile his face into more lynes, then is in the new Mappe, with the augmentation of the Indies: you haue not seene such a thing as tis: I can hard- ly forbeare hurling things at him, I know my Ladie will strike him: if shee doe, hee'l smile, and take't for a great fauour.
Come bring vs, bring vs where he is.
Exeunt Omnes.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Sebastian and Anthonio.
I would not by my
will
haue troubled you, But since you make your pleasure of your paines, I will no further chide you.
I could not stay behinde you: my desire (More sharpe then filed steele) did spurre me forth, And not all loue to see you (though so much As might haue drawne one to a longer voyage) But iealousie, what might befall your trauell, Being skillesse in these parts: which to a stranger, Vnguided, and vnfriended, often proue Rough, and vnhospitable. My willing loue, The rather by these arguments of feare Set forth in your pursuite.
My kinde
Anthonio,
I can no other answer make, but thankes, And thankes: and euer oft good turnes, Are shuffel'd off with such vncurrant pay: But were my worth, as is my conscience firme, You should finde better dealing: what's to do? Shall we go see the reliques of this Towne?
To morrow sir, best first go see your Lodging?
I am not weary, and 'tis long to night I pray you let vs satisfie our eyes With the memorials, and the things of fame That do renowne this City.
Would youl'd pardon me: I do not without danger walke these streetes. Once in a sea-fight 'gainst the Count his gallies, I did some seruice, of such note indeede, That were I tane heere, it would scarse be answer'd.
Belike you slew great number of his people.
Th' offence is not of such a bloody nature, Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrell Might well haue giuen vs bloody argument: It might haue since bene answer'd in repaying What we tooke from them, which for Traffiques sake Most of our City did. Onely my selfe stood out, For which if I be lapsed in this place I shall pay deere.
Do not then walke too open.
It doth not fit me: hold sir, here's my purse, In the South Suburbes at the Elephant Is best to lodge: I will bespeake our dyet, Whiles you beguile the time, and feed your knowledge With viewing of the Towne, there shall you haue me.
Why I your purse?
Haply your eye shall light vpon some toy You haue desire to purchase: and your store I thinke is not for idle Markets, sir.
Ile be your purse-bearer, and leaue you For an houre.
To th' Elephant.
I do remember.
Exeunt.
Scoena Quarta.
Enter Oliuia and Maria.
I haue sent after him, he sayes hee'l come: How shall I feast him? What bestow of him? For youth is bought more oft, then begg'd, or borrow'd. I speake too loud: Where's
Maluolio,
he is sad, and ciuill, And suites well for a seruant with my fortunes, Where is
Maluolio
?
He's comming Madame: But in very strange manner. He is sure possest Madam.
Why what's the matter, does he raue?
No Madam, he does nothing but smile: your La- dyship were best to haue some guard about you, if hee come, for sure the man is tainted in's wits.
Go call him hither.
Enter Maluolio.
I am as madde as hee, If sad and merry madnesse equall bee. How now
Maluolio
?
Sweet Lady, ho, ho.
Smil'st thou? I sent for thee vpon a sad occasion.
Sad Lady, I could be sad: This does make some obstruction in the blood: This crosse-gartering, but what of that? If it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true Sonnet is: Please one, and please all.
Why how doest thou man? What is the matter with thee?
Not blacke in my minde, though yellow in my legges: It did come to his hands, and Commaunds shall be executed. I thinke we doe know the sweet Romane hand.
Wilt thou go to bed
Maluolio
?
To bed?
I
sweet heart, and Ile come to thee.
God comfort thee: Why dost thou smile so, and kisse thy hand so oft?
How do you
Maluolio
?
At your request: Yes Nightingales answere Dawes.
Why appeare you with this ridiculous bold- nesse before my Lady.
Be not afraid of greatnesse: 'twas well writ.
What meanst thou by that
Maluolio
?
Some are borne great.
Ha?
Some atcheeue greatnesse.
What sayst thou?
And some haue greatnesse thrust vpon them.
Heauen restore thee.
Remember who commended thy yellow stock- ings.
Thy yellow stockings?
And wish'd to see thee crosse garter'd.
Crosse garter'd?
Go
too
, thou art made, if thou desir'st to be so.
Am I made?
If not, let me see thee a seruant still.
Why this is verie Midsommer madnesse.
Enter Seruant.
Madame, the young Gentleman of the Count
Orsino's
is return'd, I could hardly entreate him backe: he attends your Ladyships pleasure.
Ile come to him. Good
Maria,
let this fellow be look'd
too
. Where's my Cosine
Toby,
let some of my people haue a speciall care of him, I would not haue him miscarrie for the halfe of my Dowry.
exit
Oh ho, do you come neere me now: no worse man then sir
Toby
to looke to me. This concurres direct- ly with the Letter, she sends him on purpose, that I may appeare stubborne to him: for she incites me to that in the Letter. Cast thy humble slough sayes she: be oppo- site with a Kinsman, surly with seruants, let thy tongue langer with arguments of state, put thy selfe into the tricke of singularity: and consequently setts downe the manner how: as a sad face, a reuerend carriage, a slow tongue, in the habite of some
Sir
of note, and so foorth. I haue lymde her, but it is Ioues doing, and Ioue make me thankefull. And when she went away now, let this Fel- low be look'd
too
: Fellow? not
Maluolio,
nor after my degree, but Fellow. Why euery thing adheres togither, that no dramme of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or vnsafe circumstance: What can be saide? Nothing that can be, can come betweene me, and the full prospect of my hopes. Well Ioue, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked.
Enter Toby, Fabian, and Maria.
Which way is hee in the name of sanctity. If all the diuels of
hell
be drawne in little, and Legion himselfe possest him, yet Ile speake to him.
Heere he is, heere he is: how ist with you sir? How ist with you man?
Go off, I discard you: let me enioy my priuate: go off.
Lo, how hollow the fiend speakes within him; did not I tell you? Sir
Toby,
my Lady prayes you to haue a care of him.
Ah ha, does she so?
Go
too
, go
too
: peace, peace, wee must deale gently with him: Let me alone. How do you
Maluolio
? How ist with you? What man, defie the diuell: consider, he's an enemy to mankinde.
Do you know what you say?
La you,
and
you speake
ill
of the diuell, how he takes it at heart. Pray God he be not bewitch'd.
Carry his water to th' wise woman.
Marry and it shall be done to morrow morning if I liue. My Lady would not loose him for more then ile say.
How now mistris?
Oh Lord.
Prethee hold thy peace, this is not the way: Doe you not see you moue him? Let me alone with him.
No way but gentlenesse, gently, gently: the Fiend is rough, and will not be roughly vs'd.
Why how now my bawcock? how dost
chuck?
Sir.
I
biddy, come with me. What man, tis not for grauity to play at cherrie-pit with sathan Hang him foul Colliar.
Get him to say his prayers, good sir
Toby
gette him to pray.
My prayers Minx.
No I warrant you, he will not heare of godly- nesse.
Go hang your selues all: you are ydle shallowe things, I am not of your element, you shall knowe more heereafter.
Exit
Ist possible?
If this were plaid vpon a stage now, I could con- demne it as an improbable fiction.
His very genius hath taken the infection of the deuice man.
Nay pursue him now, least the deuice take ayre, and taint.
Why we shall make him mad indeede.
The house will be the quieter.
Come, wee'l haue him in a darke room & bound. My Neece is already in the beleefe that he's mad: we may carry it thus for our pleasure, and his pennance, til our ve- ry pastime tyred out of breath, prompt vs to haue mercy on him: at which time, we wil bring the deuice to the bar and crowne thee for a finder of madmen: but see, but see.
Enter Sir Andrew.
More matter for a
May
morning.
Heere's the Challenge, reade it: I warrant there's vinegar and pepper in't.
Ist so sawcy?
I
, ist? I warrant him: do but read.
Giue me.
Youth, whatsoeuer thou art, thou art but a scuruy fellow.
Good, and valiant.
Wonder not, nor admire not in thy minde why I doe call thee so, for I will shew thee no reason for't.
A good note, that keepes you from the blow of
 
Law
Thou comst to the Lady Oliuia, and in my sight she vses
thee kindly: but thou lyest in thy throat, that is not the matter I challenge thee for.
Very breefe, and to exceeding good sence-lesse.
I will way-lay thee going home, where if it be thy chance to kill me.
Good.
Thou kilst me like a rogue and a villaine.
Still you keepe o'th windie side of the Law: good.
Fartheewell, and God haue mercie vpon one of our
soules. He may haue mercie vpon mine, but my hope is better,
and so looke to thy selfe. Thy friend as thou vsest him, & thy sworne enemie,
Andrew Ague-cheeke.
If this Letter moue him not, his legges cannot: Ile giu't him.
You may haue verie fit occasion for't: he is now in some commerce with my Ladie, and will
by
and by depart.
Go sir
Andrew:
scout mee for him at the corner of the Orchard like a bum-Baylie: so soone as euer thou seest him, draw, and as thou draw'st, sweare horrible: for it comes to passe oft, that a terrible oath, with a swagge- ring accent sharpely twang'd off, giues manhoode more approbation, then euer proofe it selfe would haue earn'd him. Away.
Nay let me alone for swearing.
Exit
Now will not I deliuer his Letter: for the behaui- our of the yong Gentleman, giues him out to be of good capacity, and breeding: his employment betweene his Lord and my Neece, confirmes no lesse. Therefore, this Letter being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror in the youth: he will finde it comes from a Clodde-pole. But sir, I will deliuer his Challenge by word of mouth; set vpon
Ague-cheeke
a notable report of valor, and driue the Gentleman (as I know his youth will aptly receiue it) into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, furie, and impetuositie. This will so fright them both, that they wil kill one another by the looke, like Cockatrices.
Enter Oliuia and Viola.
Heere he comes with your Neece, giue them way till he take leaue, and presently after him.
I wil meditate the while vpon some horrid message for a Challenge.
I haue said too much vnto a hart of stone, And laid mine honour too vnchary on't: There's something in me that reproues my fault: But such a head-strong potent fault it is, That it but mockes reproofe.
With the same hauiour that your passion beares, Goes on my Masters greefes.
Heere, weare this Iewell for me, tis my picture: Refuse it not, it hath no tongue, to vex you: And I beseech you come againe to morrow. What shall you aske of me that Ile deny, That honour (sau'd) may vpon asking giue.
Nothing but this, your true loue for my master.
How with mine honor may I giue him that, Which I haue giuen to you.
I will acquit you.
Well, come againe to morrow: far-thee-well, A Fiend like thee might beare my soule to
hell
.
Enter Toby and Fabian.
Gentleman, God saue thee.
And you sir.
That defence thou hast, betake
the
too't: of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I knowe not: but thy intercepter full of despight, bloody as the Hun- ter, attends thee at the Orchard end: dismount thy tucke, be
yare
in thy preparation, for thy assaylant is quick, skil- full, and deadly.
You mistake sir I am sure, no man hath any quar- rell to me: my remembrance is very free and cleere from any image of offence done to any man.
You'l finde it otherwise I assure you: therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake you to your gard: for your opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill, and wrath, can furnish man withall.
I pray you sir what is he?
He is knight dubb'd with vnhatch'd Rapier, and on carpet consideration, but he is a diuell in priuate brall, soules and bodies hath he diuorc'd three, and his incense- ment at this moment is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none, but by pangs of death and sepulcher: Hob, nob, is his word: giu't or take't.
I will returne againe into the house, and desire some conduct of the Lady. I am no fighter, I haue heard of some kinde of men, that put quarrells purposely on o- thers, to taste their valour: belike this is a man of that quirke.
Sir, no: his indignation deriues it selfe out of a ve- ry computent iniurie, therefore get you on, and giue him his desire. Backe you shall not to the house, vnlesse you vndertake that with me, which with as much safetie you might answer him: therefore on, or strippe your sword starke naked: for meddle you must that's certain, or for- sweare to weare iron about you.
This is as vnciuill as strange. I beseech you doe me this courteous office, as to know of the Knight what my offence to him is: it is something of my negligence, nothing of my purpose.
I will doe so. Signiour
Fabian,
stay you by this Gentleman, till my returne.
Exit Toby.
Pray you sir, do you know of this matter?
I know the knight is incenst against you, euen to a mortall arbitrement, but nothing of the circumstance more.
I beseech you what manner of man is he?
Nothing of that wonderfull promise to read him by his forme, as you are like to finde him in the proofe of his valour. He is indeede sir, the most skilfull, bloudy, & fatall opposite that you could possibly haue found in anie part of Illyria: will you walke towards him, I will make your peace with him, if I can.
I shall bee much bound to you for't: I am one, that had rather go with sir Priest, then sir knight: I care not who knowes so much of my mettle.
Exeunt.
Enter Toby and Andrew.
Why man hee s a verie diuell, I haue not seen such a firago: I had a passe with him, rapier, scabberd, and all: and he giues me the stucke in with such a mortall motion that it is ineuitable: and on the answer, he payes you as surely, as your feete hits the ground they step on. They say, he has bin Fencer to the Sophy.
Pox on't, Ile not meddle with him.
I
but he will not now be pacified,
Fabian
can scarse hold him yonder.
Plague on't,
and
I thought he had beene valiant, and so cunning in Fence, I'de haue seene him damn'd ere I'de haue challeng'd him. Let him let the matter slip, and Ile giue him my horse, gray Capilet.
Ile make the motion: stand heere, make a good shew on't, this shall end without the perdition of soules, marry Ile ride your horse as well as I ride you.
Enter Fabian and Viola.
I haue his horse to take vp the quarrell, I haue perswaded him the youths a diuell.
He is as horribly conceited of him: and pants, & lookes pale, as if a Beare were at his heeles.
There's no remedie sir, he will fight with you for's oath sake: marrie hee hath better bethought him of his quarrell, and hee findes that now scarse to bee worth tal- king of: therefore draw for the supportance of his vowe, he protests he will not hurt you.
Pray God defend me: a little thing would make me tell them how much I lacke of a man.
Giue ground if you see him furious.
Come sir
Andrew,
there's no remedie, the Gen- tleman will for his honors sake haue one bowt with you: he cannot by the Duello auoide it: but hee has promised me, as he is a Gentleman and a Soldiour, he will not hurt you. Come on, too't.
Pray God he keepe his oath.
Enter Antonio.
I do assure you tis against my
will
.
Put vp your sword: if this yong Gentleman Haue done offence, I take the fault on me: If you offend him, I for him defie you.
You sir? Why, what are you?
One sir, that for his loue dares yet do more Then you haue heard him brag to you he will.
Nay, if you be an vndertaker, I am for you.
Enter Officers.
O good sir
Toby
hold: heere come the Officers.
Ile be with you anon.
Pray sir, put your sword vp if you please.
Marry will I sir: and for that I promis'd you Ile be as good as my word. Hee will beare you easily, and raines well.
This is the man, do thy Office.
Anthonio,
I arrest thee at the suit of Count
Orsino
You do mistake me sir.
No sir, no iot: I know your fauour well: Though now you haue no sea-cap on your head: Take him away, he knowes I know him well.
I must obey. This comes with seeking you: But there's no remedie, I shall answer it: What will you do: now my necessitie Makes me to aske you for my purse. It greeues mee Much more, for what I cannot do for you, Then what befals my selfe: you stand amaz'd, But be of comfort.
Come sir away.
I must entreat of you some of that money.
What money sir? For the fayre kindnesse you haue shew'd me heere, And part being prompted by your present trouble, Out of my leane and low ability Ile lend you something: my
hauing
is not much, Ile make diuision of my present with you: Hold, there's halfe my Coffer.
Will you deny me now, Ist possible that my deserts to you Can lacke perswasion. Do not tempt my misery, Least that it make me so vnsound a man As to vpbraid you with those kindnesses That I haue done for you.
I know of none, Nor know I you by voyce, or any feature: I hate ingratitude more in a man, Then lying, vainnesse, babling drunkennesse, Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption Inhabites our fraile blood.
Oh heauens themselues.
Come sir, I pray you go.
Let me speake a little. This youth that you see
heere
, I snatch'd one halfe out of the iawes of death, Releeu'd him with such sanctitie of loue; And to his image, which me thought did promise Most venerable worth, did I deuotion.
What's that to vs, the time goes by: Away.
But oh, how vilde an idoll proues this God: Thou hast
Sebastian
done good feature, shame. In Nature, there's no blemish but the minde: None can be call'd deform'd, but the vnkinde. Vertue is beauty, but the beauteous euill Are empty trunkes, ore-flourish'd by the deuill.
The man growes mad, away with him: Come, come sir.
Leade me on.
Exit
Me thinkes his words do from such passion flye That he beleeues himselfe, so do not I: Proue true imagination, oh proue true, That I deere brother, be now tane for you.
Come hither Knight, come hither
Fabian:
Weel whisper ore a couplet or two of most sage sawes.
He nam'd
Sebastian:
I my brother know Yet liuing in my glasse: euen such, and so In fauour was my Brother, and he went Still in this fashion, colour, ornament, For him I imitate: Oh if it proue, Tempests are kinde, and salt waues fresh in loue.
A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward then a Hare, his dishonesty appeares, in leauing his frend heere in necessity, and denying him: and for his coward- ship aske
Fabian.
A Coward, a most deuout Coward, religious in it.
Slid Ile after him againe, and beate him.
Do, cuffe him soundly, but neuer draw thy sword
And
I do not.
Come, let's see the euent.
I dare lay any money, twill be nothing yet.
Exit
Actus Quartus, Scaena prima.
Enter Sebastian and Clowne.
Will you make me beleeue, that I am not sent for you?
Go
too
, go
too
, thou art a foolish fellow, Let me be cleere of thee.
Well held out yfaith: No, I do not know you, nor I am not sent to you by my Lady, to bid you come speake with her: nor your name is not Master
Cesario,
nor this is not my nose neyther: Nothing that is so, is so.
I prethee vent thy folly some-where else, thou know'st not me.
Vent my folly: He has heard that word of some great man, and now applyes it to a foole. Vent my fol- ly: I am affraid this great lubber the World will proue a Cockney: I prethee now vngird thy strangenes, and tell me what I shall vent to my Lady? Shall I vent to hir that thou art comming?
I prethee foolish greeke depart from me, there's money for thee, if you tarry longer, I shall giue worse paiment.
By my troth thou hast an open hand: these Wise- men that giue fooles money, get themselues a good re- port, after foureteene yeares purchase.
Enter Andrew, Toby, and Fabian.
Now sir, haue I met you again: ther's for you.
Why there's for thee, and there, and there, Are all the people mad?
Hold sir, or Ile throw your dagger ore the house
This will I tell my Lady straight, I would not be in some of your coats for two pence.
Come on sir, hold.
Nay let him alone, Ile go another way to worke with him: Ile haue an action of Battery against him, if there be any law in Illyria: though I stroke him first, yet it's no matter for that.
Let go thy hand.
Come sir, I will not let you go. Come my yong souldier put vp your yron: you are well flesh'd: Come on.
I will be free from thee. What wouldst
now? If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword.
What, what? Nay then I must haue an Ounce or two of this malapert blood from you.
Enter Oliuia.
Hold
Toby,
on thy life I charge thee hold.
Madam.
Will it be euer thus? Vngracious wretch, Fit for the Mountaines, and the barbarous Caues, Where manners nere were preach'd: out of my sight. Be not offended, deere
Cesario:
Rudesbey be gone. I prethee gentle friend, Let thy fayre wisedome, not thy passion sway In this vnciuill, and vniust extent Against thy peace. Go with me to my house, And heare thou there how many fruitlesse prankes This Ruffian hath botch'd vp, that thou thereby Mayst smile at this: Thou shalt not choose but goe: Do not denie, beshrew his soule for mee, He started one poore heart of mine, in thee.
What rellish is in this? How runs the streame? Or I am mad, or else this is a dreame: Let fancie still my sense in Lethe steepe, If it be thus to dreame, still let me sleepe.
Nay come I prethee, would thoud'st be rul'd by me
Madam, I will.
O say so, and so be.
Exeunt
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Maria and Clowne.
Nay, I prethee put on this gown, & this beard, make him beleeue thou art sir
Topas
the Curate, doe it quickly. Ile call sir
Toby
the whilst.
Well, Ile put it on, and I will dissemble my selfe in't, and I would I were the first that euer dissembled in in such a gowne. I am not tall enough to become the function well, nor leane enough to bee thought a good Studient: but to be said an honest man and a good hous- keeper goes as fairely, as to say, a carefull man, & a great scholler. The Competitors enter.
Enter Toby.
Ioue blesse thee M[aster]. Parson.
Bonos dies
sir
Toby:
for as the old hermit of
Prage
that neuer saw pen and inke, very wittily sayd to a Neece of King
Gorbodacke,
that that is,
is
: so I being M[aster]. Parson, am M[aster]. Parson; for what is that, but
that
? and is, but
is
?
To him sir
Topas.
What hoa, I say, Peace in this prison.
The knaue counterfets well: a good knaue.
Maluolio within.
Who cals there?
Sir
Topas
the Curate, who comes to visit
Maluo-lio
the Lunaticke.
Sir
Topas,
sir
Topas,
good sir
Topas
goe to my Ladie.
Out hyperbolicall fiend, how vexest thou this man? Talkest thou nothing but of Ladies?
Well said M[aster]. Parson.
Sir
Topas,
neuer was man thus wronged, good sir
Topas
do not thinke I am mad: they haue layde mee heere in hideous darknesse.
Fye, thou dishonest sathan: I call thee by the most modest termes, for I am one of those gentle ones, that will vse the diuell himselfe with curtesie: sayst thou that house is darke?
As
hell
sir
Topas.
Why it hath bay Windowes transparant as bari- cadoes, and the cleere stores toward the South north, are as lustrous as Ebony: and yet complainest thou of ob- struction?
I am not mad sir
Topas,
I say to you this house is darke.
Madman thou errest: I say there is no darknesse but ignorance, in which thou art more puzel'd then the Aegyptians in their fogge.
I say this house is as darke as Ignorance, thogh Ignorance were as darke as
hell
; and I say there was ne- uer man thus abus'd, I am no more madde then you are, make the triall of it in any constant question.
What is the opinion of
Pythagoras
concerning Wilde-fowle?
That the soule of our grandam, might happily inhabite a bird.
What thinkst thou of his opinion?
I thinke nobly of the soule, and no way aproue his opinion.
Fare thee well: remaine thou still in darkenesse, thou shalt hold th' opinion of
Pythagoras,
ere I will allow of thy wits, and feare to kill a Woodcocke, lest thou dis- possesse the soule of thy grandam. Fare thee well.
Sir
Topas,
sir
Topas.
My most exquisite sir
Topas.
Nay I am for all waters.
Thou mightst haue done this without thy berd and gowne, he sees thee not.
To him in thine owne voyce, and bring me word how thou findst him: I would we were well ridde of this knauery. If he may bee conueniently deliuer'd, I would he were, for I am now so farre in offence with my Niece, that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport the vppe- shot. Come
by
and by to my Chamber.
Exit
Hey Robin, iolly Robin, tell me how thy Lady does.
Foole.
My Lady is vnkind,
perdie.
Foole.
Alas why is she so?
Foole, I say.
She loues another. Who calles, ha?
Good foole, as euer thou wilt deserue well at my hand, helpe me to a Candle, and pen, inke, and paper: as I am a Gentleman, I will liue to bee thankefull to thee for't.
M[aster].
Maluolio
?
I
good Foole.
Alas sir, how fell you besides your fiue witts?
Foole, there was neuer man so notoriouslie a-bus'd: I am as well in my wits (foole) as thou art.
But as well: then you are mad indeede, if you be no better in your wits then a foole.
They haue heere propertied me: keepe mee in darkenesse, send Ministers to me, Asses, and doe all they can to face me out of my wits.
Aduise you what you say: the Minister is heere.
Maluolio, Maluolio,
thy wittes the heauens restore: en- deauour thy selfe to sleepe, and leaue thy vaine bibble babble.
Sir
Topas.
Maintaine no words with him good fellow. Who I sir, not I sir. God buy you good sir Topas: Mar- ry Amen. I will sir, I will.
Foole, foole, foole I say.
Alas sir be patient. What say you sir, I am shent for speaking to you.
Good foole, helpe me to some light, and some paper, I tell thee I am as well in my wittes, as any man in Illyria.
Well-a-day, that you were sir.
By this hand I am: good foole, some inke, pa- per, and light: and conuey what I will set downe to my Lady: it shall aduantage thee more, then euer the bea- ring of Letter did.
I will help you too't. But tel me true, are you not mad indeed, or do you but counterfeit.
Beleeue me I am not, I tell thee true.
Nay, Ile nere beleeue a madman till I see his brains I will fetch you light, and paper, and inke.
Foole, Ile requite it in the highest degree: I prethee be gone.
I am gone sir, and anon sir, Ile be with you againe: In a trice, like to the old vice, your neede to sustaine. Who with dagger of lath, in his rage and his wrath, cries ah ha, to the diuell: Like a mad lad, paire thy nayles dad, Adieu good man diuell.
Exit
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Sebastian.
This is the ayre, that is the glorious Sunne, This pearle she gaue me, I do feel't, and see't, And though tis wonder that enwraps me thus, Yet 'tis not madnesse. Where's
Anthonio
then, I could not finde him at the Elephant, Yet there he was, and there I found this credite, That he did range the towne to seeke me out, His councell now might do me golden seruice, For though my soule disputes well with my sence, That this may be some error, but no madnesse, Yet doth this accident and flood of Fortune, So farre exceed all instance, all discourse, That I am readie to distrust mine eyes, And wrangle with my reason that perswades me To any other trust, but that I am mad, Or else the Ladies mad; yet if 'twere so, She could not sway her house, command her followers, Take, and giue backe affayres, and their dispatch, With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing As I perceiue she do's: there's something in't That is deceiueable. But heere the Lady comes.
Enter Oliuia, and Priest.
Blame not this haste of mine: if you meane well Now go with me, and with this holy man Into the Chantry by: there before him, And vnderneath that consecrated roofe, Plight me the full assurance of your faith, That my most iealious, and too doubtfull soule May liue at peace. He shall conceale it, Whiles you are willing it shall come to note, What time we will our celebration keepe According to my birth, what do you say?
Ile follow this good man, and go with you, And hauing sworne truth, euer will be true.
Then lead the way good father, & heauens so shine, That they may fairely note this acte of mine.
Exeunt.
Finis Actus Quartus.
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Clowne and Fabian.
Now as thou lou'st me, let me see his Letter.
Good M[aster].
Fabian,
grant me another request.
Any thing.
Do not desire to see this Letter.
This is to giue a dogge, and in recompence desire my dogge againe.
Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and Lords.
Belong you to the Lady
Oliuia,
friends?
I
sir, we are some of her trappings.
I know thee well: how doest thou my good Fellow?
Truely sir, the better for my foes, and the worse for my friends.
Iust the contrary: the better for thy friends.
No sir, the worse.
How can that be?
Marry sir, they praise me, and make an asse of me, now my foes tell me plainly, I am an Asse: so that by my foes sir, I profit in the knowledge of my selfe, and by my friends I am abused: so that conclusions to be as kisses, if your foure negatiues make your two affirmatiues, why then the worse for my friends, and the better for my foes.
Why this is excellent.
By my troth sir, no: though it please you to be one of my friends.
Thou shalt not be the worse for me, there's gold.
But that it would be double dealing sir, I would you could make it another.
O you giue me
ill
counsell.
Put your grace in your pocket sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it.
Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double dealer: there's another.
Primo, secundo, tertio,
is a good play, and the olde saying is, the third payes for all: the triplex sir, is a good tripping measure, or the belles of S[aint].
Bennet
sir, may put you in minde, one, two, three.
You can foole no more money out of mee at this throw: if you will let your Lady know I am here to speak with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my bounty further.
Marry sir, lullaby to your bountie till I come a- gen. I go sir, but I would not haue you to thinke, that my desire of hauing is the sinne of couetousnesse: but as you say sir, let your bounty take a nappe, I will awake it anon.
Exit
Enter Anthonio and Officers.
Here comes the man sir, that did rescue mee.
That face of his I do remember well, Yet when I saw it last, it was besmear'd As blacke as Vulcan, in the smoake of warre: A bawbling Vessell was he Captaine of, For shallow draught and bulke vnprizable, With which such scathfull grapple did he make, With the most noble bottome of our Fleete, That very enuy, and the tongue of losse Cride fame and honor on him: What's the matter?
Orsino,
this is that
Anthonio
That tooke the
Phoenix,
and her fraught from
Candy,
And this is he that did the
Tiger
boord, When your yong Nephew
Titus
lost his legge; Heere in the streets, desperate of shame and state, In priuate brabble did we apprehend him.
He did me kindnesse sir, drew on my side, But in conclusion put strange speech vpon me, I know not what 'twas, but distraction.
Notable Pyrate, thou salt-water Theefe, What foolish boldnesse brought thee to their mercies, Whom thou in termes so bloudie, and so deere Hast made thine enemies?
Orsino:
Noble sir, Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you giue mee:
Anthonio
neuer yet was Theefe, or Pyrate, Though I confesse, on base and ground enough
Orsino's
enemie. A witchcraft drew me hither: That most ingratefull boy there by your side, From the rude seas enrag'd and foamy mouth Did I redeeme: a wracke past hope he was: His life I gaue him, and did thereto adde My loue without retention, or restraint, All his in dedication. For his sake, Did I expose my selfe (pure for his loue) Into the danger of this aduerse Towne, Drew to defend him, when he was beset: Where being apprehended, his false cunning (Not meaning to partake with me in danger) Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance, And grew a twentie yeeres remoued thing While one would winke: denide me mine owne purse, Which I had recommended to his vse, Not halfe an houre before.
How can this be?
When came he to this Towne?
To day my Lord: and for three months before, No
intrim,
not a minutes vacancie, Both day and night did we keepe companie.
Enter Oliuia and attendants.
Heere comes the Countesse, now heauen walkes on earth: But for thee fellow, fellow thy words are madnesse, Three monthes this youth hath tended vpon mee, But more of that anon. Take him aside.
What would my Lord, but that he may not haue, Wherein
Oliuia
may seeme seruiceable?
Cesario,
you do not keepe promise with me.
Madam:
Gracious
Oliuia.
What do you say
Cesario
? Good my Lord.
My Lord would speake, my dutie hushes me.
If it be ought to the old tune my Lord, It is as fat and fulsome to mine eare As howling after Musicke.
Still so cruell?
Still so constant Lord.
What to peruersenesse? you vnciuill Ladie To whose ingrate, and vnauspicious Altars My soule the faithfull'st offrings haue breath'd out That ere deuotion tender'd. What shall I do?
Euen what it please my Lord, that shal becom him
Why should I not, (had I the heart to do it) Like to th' Egyptian theefe, at point of death Kill what I loue: (a sauage iealousie, That sometime sauours nobly) but heare me this: Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, And that I partly know the instrument That screwes me from my true place in your fauour: Liue you the Marble-brested Tirant still. But this your Minion, whom I know you loue, And whom, by heauen I sweare, I tender deerely, Him will I teare out of that cruell eye, Where he sits crowned in his masters spight. Come boy with me, my thoughts are ripe in mischiefe: Ile sacrifice the Lambe that I do loue, To spight a Rauens heart within a Doue.
And I most iocund, apt, and willinglie, To do you rest, a thousand deaths would dye.
Where goes
Cesario
?
After him I loue, More then I loue these eyes, more then my life, More by all mores, then ere I shall loue wife. If I do feigne, you witnesses aboue Punish my life, for tainting of my loue.
Aye me detested, how am I beguil'd?
Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong?
Hast thou forgot thy selfe? Is it so long? Call forth the holy Father.
Come, away.
Whether my Lord?
Cesario,
Husband, stay.
Husband?
I
Husband. Can he that deny?
Her husband, sirrah?
No my Lord, not I.
Alas, it is the basenesse of thy feare, That makes thee strangle thy propriety: Feare not
Cesario,
take thy fortunes vp, Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art As great as that thou fear'st.
Enter Priest.
O welcome Father: Father, I charge thee by thy reuerence Heere to vnfold, though lately we intended To keepe in darkenesse, what occasion now Reueales before 'tis ripe: what thou dost know Hath newly past, betweene this youth, and me.
A Contract of eternall bond of loue, Confirm'd by mutuall ioynder of your hands, Attested by the holy close of lippes, Strengthned by enterchangement of your rings, And all the Ceremonie of this compact Seal'd in my function, by my testimony: Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my graue I haue trauail'd but two houres.
O thou dissembling Cub: what wilt thou be When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case? Or will not else thy craft so quickely grow, That thine owne trip shall be thine ouerthrow: Farewell, and take her, but direct thy feete, Where thou, and I (henceforth) may neuer meet.
My Lord, I do protest.
O do not sweare, Hold little faith, though thou hast too much feare.
Enter Sir Andrew.
For the loue of God a Surgeon, send one pre- sently to sir
Toby.
What's the matter?
H
'as broke my head a-crosse, and has giuen Sir
a bloody Coxcombe too: for the loue of God your helpe, I had rather then forty pound I were at home.
Who has done this sir
Andrew
?
The Counts Gentleman, one
Cesario:
we tooke him for a Coward, but hee's the verie diuell, incardinate.
My Gentleman
Cesario
?
Odd's lifelings heere he is: you broke my head for nothing, and that that I did, I was set on to do't by sir
Toby.
Why do you speake to me, I neuer hurt you: You drew your sword vpon me without cause, But I bespake you faire, and hurt you not.
Enter Toby and Clowne.
If a bloody coxcombe be a hurt, you haue hurt me: I thinke you set nothing by a bloody Coxecombe. Heere comes sir
Toby
halting, you shall heare more: but if he had not beene in drinke, hee would haue tickel'd you other gates then he did.
How now Gentleman? how ist with you?
That's all one,
has
hurt me, and there's th' end on't: Sot, didst see Dicke Surgeon, sot?
O he's drunke sir
Toby
an houre agone: his eyes were set at eight i'th morning.
Then he's a Rogue, and a passy measures pauyn: I hate a drunken rogue.
Away with him? Who hath made this hauocke with them?
Ile helpe you sir
Toby,
because
we
'll be drest to- gether.
Will you helpe an Asse-head, and a coxcombe, & a knaue: a thin fac'd knaue, a gull?
Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd
too
.
Enter Sebastian.
I am sorry Madam I haue hurt your kinsman: But had it beene the brother of my blood, I must haue done no lesse with wit and safety. You throw a strange regard vpon me, and by that I do perceiue it hath offended you: Pardon me (sweet one) euen for the vowes We made each other, but so late ago.
One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons, A naturall Perspectiue, that is, and is not.
Anthonio:
O my deere
Anthonio,
How haue the houres rack'd, and tortur'd me, Since I haue lost thee?
Sebastian
are you?
Fear'st thou that
Anthonio
?
How haue you made diuision of your selfe, An apple cleft in two, is not more twin Then these two creatures. Which is
Sebastian
?
Most wonderfull.
Do I stand there? I neuer had a brother: Nor can there be that Deity in my nature Of heere, and euery where. I had a sister, Whom the blinde waues and surges haue deuour'd: Of charity, what kinne are you to me? What Countreyman? What name? What Parentage?
Of
Messaline: Sebastian
was my Father, Such a
Sebastian
was my brother too: So went he suited to his watery tombe: If spirits can assume both forme and suite, You come to fright vs.
A spirit I am indeed, But am in that dimension grossely clad, Which from the wombe I did participate. Were you a woman, as the rest goes euen, I should my teares let fall vpon your cheeke, And say, thrice welcome drowned
Viola.
My father had a moale vpon his brow.
And so had mine.
And dide that day when
Viola
from her birth Had numbred thirteene yeares.
O that record is liuely in my soule, He finished indeed his mortall acte That day that made my sister thirteene yeares.
If nothing lets to make vs happie both, But this my masculine vsurp'd attyre: Do not embrace me, till each circumstance, Of place, time, fortune, do co-here and iumpe That I am
Viola,
which to confirme, Ile bring you to a Captaine in this Towne, Where lye my maiden weeds: by whose gentle helpe, I was preseru'd to serue this Noble Count: All the occurrence of my fortune since Hath beene betweene this Lady, and this Lord.
So comes it Lady, you haue beene mistooke: But Nature to her bias drew in that. You would haue bin contracted to a Maid, Nor are you therein (by my life) deceiu'd, You are betroth'd both to a maid and man.
Be not amaz'd, right noble is his blood: If this be so, as yet the glasse seemes true, I shall haue share in this most happy wracke, Boy, thou hast saide to me a thousand times, Thou neuer should'st loue woman like to me.
And all those sayings, will I ouer sweare, And all those swearings keepe as true in soule, As doth that Orbed Continent, the fire, That seuers day from night.
Giue me thy hand, And let me see thee in thy womans weedes.
The Captaine that did bring me first on shore Hath my Maides garments: he vpon some Action Is now in durance, at
Maluolio's
suite, a Gentleman, and follower of my Ladies.
He shall inlarge him: fetch
Maluolio
hither, And yet alas, now I remember me, They say poore Gentleman, he's much distract.
Enter Clowne with a Letter, and Fabian.
A most extracting frensie of mine owne From my remembrance, clearly banisht his. How does he sirrah?
Truely Madam, he holds
Belzebub
at the staues end as well as a man in his case may do: has heere writ a letter to you, I should haue giuen't you to day morning. But as a madmans Epistles are no Gospels, so it skilles not much when they are deliuer'd.
Open't, and read it.
Looke then to be well edified, when the Foole deliuers the Madman.
By the Lord Madam.
How now, art thou mad?
No Madam, I do but reade madnesse:
and
your Ladyship will haue it as it ought to bee, you must allow
Vox.
Prethee reade i'thy right wits.
So I do Madona: but to reade his right wits, is to reade thus: therefore, perpend my Princesse, and giue eare.
Read it you, sirrah.
By the Lord Madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it: Though you haue put mee into darkenesse, and giuen your drunken Cosine rule ouer me, yet haue I the benefit of my senses as well as your Ladie- ship. I haue your owne letter, that induced mee to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not, but to do my selfe much right, or you much shame: thinke of me as you please. I leaue my duty a little vnthought of, and speake out of my iniury.
The madly vs'd Maluolio.
Did he write this?
I
Madame.
This sauours not much of distraction.
See him deliuer'd
Fabian,
bring him hither: My Lord, so please you, these things further thought on, To thinke me as well a sister, as a wife, One day shall crowne th' alliance on't, so please you, Heere at my house, and at my proper cost.
Madam, I am most apt t' embrace your offer: Your Master quits you: and for your seruice done him, So much against the mettle of your sex, So farre beneath your soft and tender breeding, And since you call'd me Master, for so long: Heere is my hand, you shall from this time bee Your Masters Mistris.
A sister, you are she.
Enter Maluolio.
Is this the Madman?
I
my Lord, this same: How now
Maluolio
?
Madam, you haue done me wrong, Notorious wrong.
Haue I
Maluolio
? No.
Lady you haue, pray you peruse that Letter. You must not now denie it is your hand, Write from it if you can, in hand, or phrase, Or say, tis not your seale, not your inuention: You can say none of this. Well, grant it then, And tell me in the modestie of honor, Why you haue giuen me such cleare lights of fauour, Bad me come smiling, and crosse-garter'd to you, To put on yellow stockings, and to frowne Vpon sir
Toby,
and the lighter people: And acting this in an obedient hope, Why haue you suffer'd me to be imprison'd, Kept in a darke house, visited by the Priest, And made the most notorious gecke and gull, That ere inuention plaid on? Tell me why?
Alas
Maluolio,
this is not my writing, Though I confesse much like the Charracter: But out of question, tis
Marias
hand. And now I do bethinke me, it was shee First told me thou wast mad; then cam'st in smiling, And in such formes, which heere were presuppos'd Vpon thee in the Letter: prethee be content, This practice hath most shrewdly past vpon thee: But when we know the grounds, and authors of it, Thou shalt be both the Plaintiffe and the Iudge Of thine owne cause.
Good Madam heare me speake, And let no quarrell, nor no braule to come, Taint the condition of this present houre, Which I haue wondred at. In hope it shall not, Most freely I confesse my selfe, and
Toby
Set this deuice against
Maluolio
heere, Vpon some stubborne and vncourteous parts We had conceiu'd against him.
Maria
writ The Letter, at sir
Tobyes
great importance, In recompence whereof, he hath married her: How with a sportfull malice it was follow'd, May rather plucke on laughter then reuenge, If that the iniuries be iustly weigh'd, That haue on both sides past.
Alas poore Foole, how haue they baffel'd thee?
Why some are borne great, some atchieue great- nesse,
and
some haue greatnesse throwne vpon them. I was one sir, in this Enterlude, one sir
Topas
sir, but that's all one: By the Lord Foole, I am not mad: but do you re- member, Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascall, and you smile not he's gag'd: and thus the whirlegigge of time, brings in his reuenges.
Ile be reueng'd on the whole packe of you?
He hath bene most notoriously abus'd.
Pursue him, and entreate him to a peace: He hath not told vs of the Captaine yet, When that is knowne, and golden time conuents A solemne Combination shall be made Of our deere soules. Meane time sweet sister, We will not part from hence.
Cesario
come (For so you shall be while you are a man:) But when in other habites you are seene,
Orsino's
Mistris, and his fancies Queene.
Exeunt
.
When that I was
and
a little tine boy, with hey, ho, the winde and the raine: A foolish thing was but a toy, for the raine it raineth euery day. But when I came to mans estate, with hey ho, &c. Gainst Knaues and Theeues men shut their gate, for the raine, &c. But when I came alas to wiue, with hey ho, &c. By swaggering could I neuer thriue, for the raine, &c. But when I came vnto my beds, with hey ho, &c. With tospottes still had drunken heades, for the raine, &c. A great while ago the world begon, hey ho, &c. But that's all one, our Play is done, and wee'l striue to please you euery day.