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Complete Works of Shakespeare - Part 5
THE LIFE AND DEATH OF
KING RICHARD III.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
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KING EDWARD THE FOURTH.
EDWARD, Prince of Wales, after- \ ~ jL
wards KING EDWARD V., f Son * to the
RICHARD, Duke of York, }
GEORGE, Duke of Clarence, \ R ,
RICHARD, Duke of Gloster, after- } * rot rs to
wards Ki>'; RICHARD III., ) *
A Young Son of Clarence.
HENRY, Earl of Richmond, afterwards KING
HENRY VII.
CARDINAL BOUCHIER, Archbishop of Canter-
bury.
THOMAS ROTHERAM, Archbishop of York.
JOHN MORTON, Bishop of Ely.
DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.
DUKE of NORFOLK.
EARL OF SURREY, his Son.
EARL RIVERS, Brother to KING EDWARD'S
Queen.
MARQUISOF DORSET andl^KDCiKSX, her Sons.
EARL OF OXFORD.
LORD HASTINGS.
LORD STANLEY.
LORD LOVEL.
SIR THOMAS VAUGHAN.
luodA
swhH 1C
SIR RICHARD RATCLIFF
SIR WILLIAM CATESBY.
SIR JAMES TYRREL.
SIR JAMES BLOUNT.
SIR WALTER HERBERT.
SIR ROBERT BRAKENBURY, Lieutenant of tht
Tower.
CHRISTOPHER URSWICK, a Priest.
Another Priest.
Lord Mayor of London.
Sheriff of Wiltshire.
ELIZABETH, Queen to KING EDWARD IV.
MARGARET, Widow to KING HENRY VI.
DUCHESS OF YORK, Mother to KING EDWARD
IV., CLARENCE, and GLOSTER.
LADY ANNE, Widow to EDWARD, Prince of
Wales, Son to KING HENRY VI. ; after-
wards married to the DUKE OF GLOSTER.
A Young Daughter of Clarence.
Lords, and other Attendants; two Gentlemen,
a Pursuivant, Scrivener, Citizens, Mur-
derers, Messengers, Ghosts, Soldiers, 5rV.
SCENE, ENGLAND.
ACT I.
SCENE I. LONDON. A Street.
Enter GLOSTER.
Glo. Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York ;
And all the clouds that lower'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious
wreaths ;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments ;
Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled
front ;
And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, -
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I, that am not shap'd for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's
majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph ;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them ;
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun,
And descant on mine own deformity :
674
KING RICHARD III.
[ACT
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain,
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate the one against the other :
And, if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false, and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up,
About a prophecy, which says that G
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul : here Clar-
ence comes.
Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURY.
Brother, good-day: what means this armed
guard,
That waits upon your grace?
Clar. His majesty,
Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed
This conduct to convey me to the Tower.
Glo. Upon what cause?
Clar. Because my name is George.
Glo. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of
yours ;
He should, for that, commit your godfathers :
O, belike his majesty hath some intent
That you shall be new-christen'd in the Tower.
But what 's the matter, Clarence ? may I know?
Clar. Yea, Richard, when I know; for I
protest
As yet I do not : but, as I can learn,
He hearkens aftei prophecies and dreams ;
And from the cross-row plucks the letter G,
And says a wizard told him that by G
His issue disinherited should be ;
And, for my name of George begins with G,
It follows in his thought that I am he.
These, as I learn, a;d such like toys as these,
Have mov'd his highness to commit me now.
Glo. Why, this it is, when men are rul'd by
women :
'Tis not the king that sends you to the Tower ;
My Lady Grey, his wife, Clarence, 'tis she
That tempers him to this extremity.
Was it not she, and that good man of worship,
Antony Woodville, her brother there,
That made him send Lord Hastings to the
Tower,
From whence this present day he is deliver'd?
We are not safe, Clarence ; we are not safe.
Clar. By heaven, I think there is no man
secure [heralds
But the queen's kindred, and night-walking
That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Shore.
Heard you not what an humble suppliant
Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery ?
Glo. Humbly complaining to her deity
Got my lord chamberlain his liberty.
I '11 tell you what, I think it is our way,
If we will keep in favour with the king,
To be her men, and wear her livery:
The jealous o'er-worn widow and herself,
Since that our brother dubb'd them gentle-
women,
Are mighty gossips in this monarchy. [me ;
Brak. I beseech your graces both to pardon
His majesty hath straitly given in charge
That no man shall have private conference,
Of what degree soever, with his brother.
Glo. Even so; an please your worship, Braken-
bury,
You may partake of anything we say :
We speak no treason, man; we say the king
Is wise and virtuous ; and his noble queen
Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous;-
We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot,
A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing
tongue ;
And the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks :
How say you, sir? can you deny all this?
Brak. With this, my lord, myself have
naught to do.
Glo. Naught to do with Mistress Shore ! I tell
thee, fellow,
He that doth naught with her, excepting one,
Were best to do it secretly, alone.
Brak. What one, my lord? [tray me?
Glo. Her husband, knave: would st thou be-
Brak. I beseech your grace to pardon me ;
and, withal,
Forbear your conference with the noble duke.
Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and
will obey. [obey.
Glo. We are the queen's abjects, and must
Brother, farewell: I will unto the king;
And whatsoe'er you will employ me in,
Were it to call King Edward's widow sister,
I will perform it to enfranchise you.
Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood
Touches me deeper than you can imagine.
Clar. I know it pleaseth neither of us well.
Glo. Well, your imprisonment shall not be
long;
I will deliver you, or else He for you:
Meantime, have patience.
Clar. I must perforce: farewell.
{Exeunt CLAR. , BRAK., and Guard.
Glo. Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er
return,
Simple, .plain Clarence ! I do love thee so
That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven,
SCENE I.I
KING RICHARD III.
675
If heaven will take the present at our hands.
But who comes here? the new-deliver'd Hast-
ings?
Enter HASTINGS.
Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious
lord ! [lain !
Glo. As much unto my good lord chamber-
Well are you welcome to this open air.
How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment ?
Hast. With patience, noble lord, as prisoners
must:
But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks
That were the cause of my imprisonment.
Glo. No doubt, no doubt ; and so shall Clar-
ence too;
For they that were your enemies are his,
And have prevail'd as much on him as you.
Hast. More pity that the eagle should be
mew'd
While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.
Glo. What news abroad?
Hast. No news so bad abroad as this at
home,
The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy,
And his physicians fear him mightily.
Glo. Now, by Saint Paul, this news is bad
indeed.
O, he hath kept an evil diet long,
And overmuch consum'd his royal person :
'Tis very grievous to be thought upon.
What, is he in his bed?
Hast. He is.
Glo. Go you before, and I will follow you.
[Exit HASTINGS.
He cannot live, I hope ; and must not die
Till George be pack'd with posthorse up to
heaven.
I '11 in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence,
With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments ;
And, if I fail not in my deep intent,
Clarence hath not another day to ?ive :
Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy,
And leave the world for me to bustle in !
For then I '11 marry Warwick's youngest
daughter: [father?
What though I kill'd her husband and her
The readiest way to make the wench amends
Is to become her husband and her father:
The which will I ; not all so much for love
As for another secret close intent,
By marrying her, which I must reach unto.
But yet I run before my horse to market :
Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives and
reigns :
When they are gone, then must I count my gains.
{Exit.
SCENE II. LONDON. Another Street.
Enter the Corpse 0/~KiNG HENRY THE SIXTH,
borne in an open coffin. Gentlemen bearing
halberds to guard it; and LADY ANNE as
mourner.
Anne. Set down, set down your honourable
load,
If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,
Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament
The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.
Poor key-cold figure of a holy king !
Pixie ashes of the house 01 Lancaster !
Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood !
Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost,
To hear the lamentations of poor Anne,
Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son,
Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these
wounds !
Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life,
I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes:
O, cursed be the hand that made these holes !
Cursed the heart that had the heart to do it !
Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence !
More direful hap betide that hated wretch
That makes us wretched by the death of thee,
Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads,
Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives !
If ever he have child, abortive be it,
Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,
Whose ugly and unnatural aspect
May fright the hopeful mother at the view ;
And that be heir to his unhappiness !
If ever he have wife, let her be made
More miserable by the death of him
Than I am made by my young lord and thee !
Come, now towards Chertsejrwith your holy load,
Taken from Paul's to be interred there ;
And still, as you are weary of the weight,
Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse.
[ The Bearers take up the Corpse and advance.
Enter GLOSTER.
Glo. Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it
down. [fiend,
Anne. What black magician conjures up this
To stop devoted charitable deeds?
Glo. Villains, set down the corse; or, by
Saint Paul,
I '11 make a corse of him that disobeys !
i Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the
coffin pass. [command:
Glo. Unmanner'd dog! stand thou, when I
Advance thy halberd higher than my breast,
Or, by Saint Paul, I '11 strike thee to my foot,
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.
[The Bearers set down the coffin.
676
KING RICHARD III.
[ACT i.
Anne. What, do you tremble? are you all
afraid?
Alas, I blame you not ; for you are mortal,
And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.
Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell !
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body,
His soul thou canst not have ; therefore, be gone.
Glo. Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.
Anne. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and
trouble us not ;
For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,
Fill'd it with cursing cries and deep exclaims.
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
Behold this pattern of thy butcheries.
O, gentlemen, see, see ! dead Henry's wounds
Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh !
Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity ;
For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood
From cold and empty veins, where no blood
dwells ;
Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural,
Provokes this deluge most unnatural.
O God, which this blood mad'st, revenge his
death !
O earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his
death ! [derer dead ;
Either, heaven, with lightning strike the mur-
Or, earth, gape open wide, and eat him quick,
As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood,
Which his hell-govern' d arm hath butchered !
Glo. Lady, you know no rules of charity,
Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.
Anne. Villain, thou know'st no law of God
nor man :
No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.
Glo. But I know none, and therefore am no
beast. [truth !
Anne. O wonderful, when devils tell the
Glo. More wonderful when angels are so
angry.
Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,
Of these supposed evils to give me leave,
By circumstance, but to acquit myself.
Anne. Vouchsafe, diffus'd infection of a man,
For these known evils but to give me leave,
By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.
Glo. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let
me have
Some patient leisure to excuse myself.
Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee,
thou canst make
No excuse current, but to hang thyself.
Glo. By such despair I should accuse myself.
Anne. And by despairing shalt thou stand
excus'd ;
For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,
That didst unworthy slaughter upon others.
Glo. Say that I slew them not?
Anne. Then say they were not slain :
But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee.
Glo. I did not kill your husband.
Anne. Why, then, he is alive.
Glo. Nay, he is dead ; and slain by Edward's
hand.
Anne. In thy foul throat thou liest : Queen
Margaret saw
Thy murderous falchion smoking in his blood ;
The which thou once didst bend against her
breast,
But that thy brothers beat aside the point.
Glo. I was provoked by her slanderous tongue,
That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.
Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody
mind,
That never dreamt on aught but butcheries:
Didst thou not kill this king?
Glo. I grant ye.
Anne. Dost grant me, hedgehog? then, God
grant me too
Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed !
O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous.
Glo. The fitter for the King of Heaven, that
hath him. [come.
Anne. He is in heaven, where thou shalt never
Glo. Let him thank me, that holp to send him
thither;
For he was fitter for that place than earth.
Anne. And thou unfit for any place but hell.
Glo. Yes, one place else, if you will hear me
name it.
Anne. Some dungeon.
Glo. Your bed-chamber.
Anne. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou
liest!
Glo. So will it, madam, till I lie with you.
Anne. I hope so.
Glo. I know so. But, gentle Lady Anne,
To leave this keen encounter of our wits,
And fall somewhat into a slower method,
Is not the causer of the timeless deaths
Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward,
As blameful as the executioner? [effect
Anne. Thou wast the cause and most accurs'd
Glo. Your beauty was the cause of that effect 5
Your beauty, that did haunt me in my sleep
To undertake the death of all the world,
So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom.
Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,
These nails should rend that beauty from my
cheeks. [wreck ;
Glo. These eyes could not endure that beautyV
You should not blemish it if I stood by :
As all the world is cheered by the sun,
So I by that ; it is my day, my life.
n/3
KING RICHARD III.
677
Anne. Black night o'ershade thy day, and
death thy life ! [both.
Glo. Curse not thyself, fair creature ; thou art
Anne. I would I were, to be reveng'd on thee.
Glo. It is a quarrel most unnatural,
To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee.
Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable,
To be reveng'd on him that kill'd my husband.
670. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband,
Did it to help thee to a better husband.
Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the
earth. [could.
Glo. He lives that loves thee better than he
Anne. Name him.
Glo. Plantagenet.
Anne. Why, that was he.
Glo. The self-same name, but one of better
nature.
Anne. Where is he?
Glo. Here. {She spits at him.'} Why
dost thou spit at me? [sake !
Annt. Would it were mortal poison, for thy
Glo. Never came poison from so sweet a place.
Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad.
Out of my sight ! thou dost infect mine eyes.
Glo. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected
mine.
Anne. Would they were basilisks, to strike
thee dead ! [once ;
Glo. I would they were, that I might die at
For now they kill me with a living death.
Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt
tears, [drops :
Sham'd their aspects with store of childish
These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear,
No, when my father York and Edward wept,
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made
When black-fac'd Clifford shook his sword at him ;
Nor when thy warlike father, like a child,
Told the sad story of my father's death,
And twenty times made pause, to sob and weep,
That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks,
Like trees bedash'd with rain ; in that sad time
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear ;
And what these sorrows could not thence exhale,
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with
weeping.
I never su'd to friend nor enemy ; [word ;
My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing
But, now thy beauty is propos'd my fee,
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue
to speak. [She looks scornfully at him.
Teach not thy lip such scorn ; for it was made
For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,
Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword ;
Which if thou please to hide in this true breast,
And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,
And humbly beg the death upon my knee.
Nay, do not pause ; for I did kill King Henry,
[He lays his breast open ; she offers
at it with his sword.
But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me.
Nay, now despatch ; 'twas I that stabb'd young
Edward,
{She again offers at his breast.
But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on.
{She lets fall the sword.
Take up the sword again, or take up me.
Anne. Arise, dissembler : though I wish thy
death,
I will not be thy executioner.
Glo. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.
Anne. I have already.
Glo. That was in thy rage :
Speak it again, and, even with the word,
This hand, which for thy love did kill thy love,
Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love ;
To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary.
Anne. I would I knew thy heart.
Glo. 'Tis figured in my tongue.
Anne. I fear me both are false.
Glo. Then never man was true.
Anne. Well, well, put up your sword,
Glo. Say, then, my peace is made.
Anne. That shalt thou know hereafter
Glo. But shall I live in hope ?
Anne. All men, I hope, live so.
Glo. Vouchsafe to wear this ring.
Anne. To take is not to give.
{She puts on the ring.
Glo. Look, how this ring encompasseth thy
finger,
Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart ;
Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.
And if thy poor devoted servant may
But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,
Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.
Anne. What is it ? [designs
Glo. That it may please you leave these sad
To him that hath more cause to be a mourner,
And presently repair to Crosby Place ;
Where, after I have solemnly interr'd,
At Chertsey monastery, this noble king,
And wet his grave with my repentant tears,
I will with all expedient duty see you :
For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you,
Grant me this boon. [me too
Anne. With all my heart ; and much it joys
To see you are become so penitent.
Tressel and Berkley, go along with me.
Glo. Bid me farewell.
Anne. 'Tis more than you deserve :
678
KING RICHARD III.
[ACT i.
But since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewell already.
[Exeunt LADY ANNE, TRESS.,
Glo. Sirs, take up the corse.
Gent. Towards Chertsey, noble lord ?
Glo. No, to White Friars ; there attend my
coming.
[Exeunt the rest, with the Corpse.
Was ever woman in this humour woo'd ?
Was ever woman in. this humour won ?
I Ml have her ; but I will not keep her long.
What ! I, that kill'd her husband and his father,
To take her in her heart's extremest hate ;
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,
The bleeding witness of her hatred by ;
Having God, her conscience, and these bars
against me,
And I no friends to back my suit withal,
But the plain devil and dissembling looks,
And yet to win her, all the world to nothing !
Ha!
Hath she forgot already that brave prince,
Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months
since,
Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury?
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,
Fram'd in the prodigality of nature,
Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right
royal,
The spacious world cannot again afford :
And will she yet abase her eyes on me.
That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet
prince,
And made her widow to a woeful bed ?
On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety?
On me, that halt and am misshapen thus ?
My dukedom to a beggarly denier,
I do mistake my person all this while :
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot,
Myself to be a marvellous proper man.
I '11 be at charges for a looking-glass ;
And entertain a score or two of tailors,
To study fashions to adorn my body :
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
I will maintain it with some little cost.
But first I '11 turn yon fellow in his grave ;
And then return lamenting to my love.
Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,
That I may see my shadow as I pass. [Exit.
SCENE III. LONDON. A Room in the Palace.
Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, LORD RIVERS,
and LORD GREY.
Riv. Have patience, madam: there's no doubt
his majesty
Will soon recover his accustom'd health.
Grey. In that you brook it ill, it makes him
worse : [fort,
Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good com-
And cheer his grace with quick and merry words.
Q. Eliz. If he were dead, what would betide
on me?
Grey. No other harm but loss of such a lord.
Q. Eliz. The loss of such a lord includes all
harms. [goodly son,
Grey. The heavens have bless'd you with a
To be your comforter when he is gone.
Q. Eliz. Ah, he is young ; and his minority
Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloster,
A man that loves not me, nor none of you.
Riv. Is it concluded he shall be protector?
Q. Eliz. It is determin'd, not concluded yet :
But so it must be, if the king miscarry.
Enter BUCKINGHAM and STANLEY.
Grey. Here come the Lords of Buckingham
and Stanley. [grace !
Buck. Good time of day unto your royal
Stan. God make your majesty joyful as you
have been !
Q. Eliz. The Countess Richmond, good my
Lord of Stanley,
To your good prayer will scarcely say amen.
Yet, Stanley, notwithstanding she 's your wife,
And loves not me, be you, good lord, assur'd
I hate not you for her proud arrogance.
Stan. I do beseech you, either not believe
The envious slanders of her false accusers ;
Or, if she be accus'd on true report,
Bear with her weakness, which I think proceeds
From wayward sickness, and no grounded
malice. [of Stanley?
Q. Eliz. Saw you the king to-day, my Lord
Stan. But now the Duke of Buckingham and I
Are come from visiting his majesty. [lords?
Q. Eliz. What likelihood of his amendment,
Buck. Madam, good hope ; his grace speaks
cheerfully.
Q. Eliz. God grant him health ! Did you con-
fer with him? [ment
Buck. Ay, madam : he desires to make atone-
Between the Duke of Gloster and your brothers,
And between them and my lord chamberlain ;
And sent to warn them to his royal presence.
Q. Eliz. Would all were well ! but that will
never be :
I fear our happiness is at the height.
Enter GLOSTER, HASTINGS, and DORSET.
Glo. They do me wrong, and I will not en-
dure it:
Who are they that complain unto the king
That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not?
SCENE III.]
KING RICHARD III.
679
By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly
That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours.
Because I cannot flatter and speak fair,
Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog,
Duck with French nods and apish courtesy,
I must be held a rancorous enemy.
Cannot a plain man live, and think no harm,
But thus his simple truth must be abus'd
By silken, sly insinuating Jacks? [your grace?
Grey. To whom in all this presence speaks
Glo. To thee, that hast nor honesty nor grace.
When have I injur'd thee? when done thee
wrong?
Or thee? or thee? or any of your faction?
A plague upon you all ! His royal grace,
Whom God preserve better than you would
wish !
Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing while,
But you must trouble him with lewd com-
plaints, [matter.
Q. Eliz. Brother of Gloster, you mistake the
The king, on his own royal disposition,
And not provok'd by any suitor else
Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred,
That in your outward action shows itself
Against my children, brothers, and myself
Makes him to send ; that thereby he may gather
The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it.
Glo. I cannot tell : the world is grown so bad,
That wrens may prey where eagles dare not
perch :
Since every Jack became a gentleman,
There 's many a gentle person made a Jack.
Q. Eliz. Come, come, we know your mean-
ing, brother Gloster;
You envy my advancement, and my friends' ;
God grant we never may have need of you !
Glo. Meantime, God grants that we have need
of you :
Our brother is imprison'd by your means,
Myself disgrac'd, and the nobility
Held in contempt ; while great promotions
Are daily given to ennoble those
That scarce, some two days since, were worth
a noble. [height
Q. Eliz. By Him that rais'd me to this careful
From that contented hap which I enjoyM,
I never did incense his majesty
Against the Duke of Clarence, but have been
An earnest advocate to plead for him.
My lord, you do me shameful injury,
Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects.
Glo. You may deny that you were not the
mean
Of my Lord Hastings' late imprisonment.
Riv. She may, my lord; for, [not so?
Glo. She may, Lord Rivers? why, who knows
She may do more, sir, than denying that:
She may help you to many fair preferments ;
And then deny her aiding hand therein,
And lay those honours on your high desert.
What may she not? She may, ay, marry, may
she,
Riv. What, marry, may she? [king,
Glo. What, marry, may she ! marry with a
A bachelor, a handsome stripling too :
I wis your grandam had a worser match.
Q. Eliz. My Lord of Gloster, I have too
long borne
Your blunt upbraidings and your bitter scoffs:
By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty
Of those gross taunts that oft I have endur'd.
I had rather be a country servant-maid
Than a great queen, with this condition,
To be so baited, scorn'd, and stormed at.
Enter QUEEN MARGARET, behind.
Small joy have I in being England's queen.
Q. Mar. And lessen'd be that small, God, I
beseech Him !
Thy honour, state, and seat is due to me.
Glo. What ! threat you me with telling of the
king?
Tell him, and spare not : lock, what I have said
I will avouch in presence of the king:
I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower.
'Tis time to speak, my pains are quite forgot.
Q. Mar. Out, devil! I remember them too
well:
Thou kill'dst my husband Henry in the Tower,
And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury.
Glo. Ere you were queen, ay, or your hus-
band king,
I was a pack-horse in his great affairs ;
A weeder-out of his proud adversaries,
A liberal rewarder of his friends :
To royalize his blood I spilt mine own.
Q. Mar. Ay, and much better blood than his
or thine. [band Grey
Glo. In all which time you and your hus-
Were factious for the house of Lancaster ;
And, Rivers, so were you : was not your husband
In Margaret's battle at Saint Albans slain?
Let me put in your minds, if you forget,
What you have been ere this, and what you are ;
Withal, what I have been, and what I am.
Q. Mar. A murderous villain, and so still
thou art. [Warwick ;
Glo. Poor Clarence did forsake his father,
Ay, and forswore himself, which Jesu par-
don !
Q. Mar. Which God revenge ! [crown ;
Glo. To fight on Edward's party, for the
And for his meed, poor lord, he is mew'd up.
68o
KING RICHARD III.
[ACT i.
I would to God my heart were flint, like Ed-
ward's,
Or Edward's soft and pitiful, like mine:
I am too childish -foolish for this world.
Q. Mar. Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave
this world,
Thou cacodemon ! there thy kingdom is.
Riv. My Lord of Gloster, in those busy days
Which here you urge to prove us enemies,
We follow'd then our lord, our sovereign king :
So should we you, if you should be our king.
Glo. If I should be! I had rather be a
pedler:
Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof!
Q. Eliz. As little joy, my lord, as you suppose
You should enjoy, were you this country's
king,
As little joy you may suppose in me,
That I enjoy, being the queen thereof. [of;
Q. Mar. As little joy enjoys the queen there-
For I am she, and altogether joyless.
I can no longer hold me patient. [Advancing.
Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out
In sharing that which you have pi) I'd from me !
Which of you trembles not that looks on me ?
If not that, I being queen, you bow like
subjects, [rebels ?
Yet that, by you deposM, you quake like
Ah, gentle villain, do not turn away !
Glo. Foul wrinkled witch, what mak'st thou
in my sight? [marr'd,
Q. Mar. But repetition of what thou hast
That will I make before I let thee go.
Glo. Wert thou not banished on pain of death?
Q. Mar. I was; but I do find more pain in
banishment
Than death can yield me here by my abode.
A husband and a son thoa ow'st to me,
And thou a kingdom, all of you allegiance :
This sorrow that I have, by right is yours ;
And all the pleasures you usurp are mine.
Glo. The curse my noble father laid on thee,
When thou didst crown his warlike brows with
paper, [eyes;
And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his
And then, to dry them, gav'st the duke a clout
Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rut-
land ;
His curses, then from bitterness of soul
Denounc'd against thee, are all fallen upon thee ;
And God, not we, hath plagu'd thy bloody deed.
Q. Eliz. So just is God, to right the innocent.
Hast. O, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that
babe,
And the most merciless that e'er was heard of.
Riv. Tyrants themselves wept when it was
reported.
Dor. No man but prophesied revenge for it.
Buck. Northumberland, then present, wept
to see it. [I came,
Q. Mar. What, were you snarling all before
Ready to catch each other by the throat,
And turn you all your hatred now on me ?
Did York's dread curse prevail so much with
heaven
That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death,
Their kingdom's loss, my woeful banishment,
Could all but answer for that peevish brat ?
Can curses pierce the cloudsand enter heaven ?
Why, then, give way, dull clouds, to my quick
curses !
Though not by war, by surfeit die your king,
As ours by murder, to make him a king !
Edward thy son, that now is Prince of Wales,
For Edward my son, that was Prince of Wales,
Die in his youth by like untimely violence !
Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen,
Outli ve thy glory, like my wretched self !
Long mayst thou live to wail thy children's loss ;
And see another, as I see thee now,
Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall 'd in mine !
Long die thy happy days before thy death ;
And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief,
Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen !
Rivers and Dorset, you were standers by,
And so wast thou, Lord Hastings, when my
son [him,
Was stabb'd with bloody daggers : God, I pray
That none of you may live your natural age,
But by some unlook'd accident cut off !
Glo, Have done thy charm, thou hateful
wither'd hag.
Q. Mar. And leave out thee ? stay, dog, for
thou shall hear me.
If heaven have any grievous plague in store,
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee,
O, let them keep it till thy sins be ripe,
And then hurl down their indignation
On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace !
The worm of conscience still be-gnaw thy soul !
Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv'st,
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends !
No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine,
Unless it be while some tormenting dream
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils !
Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog !
Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity
The slave of nature and the son of hell !
Thou slander of thy heavy mother's womb !
Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins !
Thou rag of honour ! thou detested
Glo. Margaret.
Q. Mar. Richard !
Glo. Ha !
SCENE III.]
KING RICHARD III.
68r
Q. Mar. I call thee not.
Glo. I cry thee mercy, then ; for I did think
That thou hadst call'd me all those bitter names.
Q. Mar. Why, so I did ; but look'd for no
O, let me make the period to my curse !
Glo. 'Tis done by me, and ends in Margaret.
Q. Eliz. Thus have you breath'd your curse
against yourself.
Q. Mar. Poor painted queen, vain flourish of
my fortune !
Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider,
Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about ?
Fool, fool ! thou whett'st a knife to kill thyself.
The day will come that thou shalt wish for me
To help thee curse this poisonous bunch-back ; d
toad.
Hast. False-boding woman, end thy frantic
curse,
Lest to thy harm thou move our patience.
Q. Mar. Foul shame upon you ! you have all
mov'd mine.
Riv. Were you well serv'd, you would be
taught your duty. [me duty,
Q. Mar. To serve me well, you all should do
Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects :
O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that
duty !
Dor. Dispute not with her, she is lunatic.
Q. Mar. Peace, master marquis, you are
malapert :
Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current :
O, that your young nobility could judge
What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable !
They that stand high have many blasts to shake
them ;
And if they fall they dash themselves to pieces.
Glo. Good counsel, marry : learn it, learn it,
marquis.
Dor. It touches you, my lord, as much as me.
Glo. Ay, and much more : but I was born so
high
Our aery buildeth in the cedar's top,
And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun.
Q. Mar. And turns the sun to shade ; alas !
alas!
Witness my son, now in the shade of death ;
Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath
Hath in eternal darkness folded up.
Your aery buildeth in our aery's nest :
O God, that see'st it, do not suffer it ;
As it was won with blood, lost be it so !
Btick. Peace, peace, for shame, if not for
charity. [me :
Q. Mar. Urge neither charity nor shame to
Uncharitably with me have you dealt,
And shamefully my hopes by you are butcher'd.
My charity is outrage, life my shame,^
And in my shame still live my sorrow's rage !
Buck. Have done, have done. [hand,
Q. Mar. O princely Buckingham, I '11 kiss thy
In sign of league and amity with thee :
Now fair befall thee and thy noble house !
Thy garments are not spotted with our blood,
Nor thou within the compass of my curse.
Buck. Nor no one here ; for curses never pass
The lips of those that breathe them in the air.
Q. Mar. I will not think but they ascend the
sky,
And there awake God's gentle sleeping peace.
Buckingham, take heed of yonder dog !
Look, when he fawns he bites ; and when he
bites,
His venom tooth will rankle to the death :
Have not to do with him, beware of him ;
Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him,
And all their ministers attend on him.
Glo. WTiat doth she say, my Lord of Buck-
ingham ? [lord.
Buck. Nothing that I respect, my gracious
Q. Mar. What, dost thou scorn me for my
gentle counsel?
And soothe the devil that I warn thee from ?
O, but remember this another day,
When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow,
And say, poor Margaret was a prophetess !
Live each of you the subjects to his hate,
And he to yours, and all of you to God's !
{Exit.
Hast. My hair doth stand on end to hear her
curses. [liberty.
Riv. And so doth mine : I muse why she 's at
Glo. I cannot blame her: by God's hcly
mother,
She hath had too much wrong ; and I repent
My part thereof that I have done to her.
Q. Eliz. I neverdid her any, to my knowledge.
Glo. Yet you have all the vantage of her
wrong.
1 was too hot to do somebody good,
That is too cold in thinking of it now.
Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid ;
He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains ;
God pardon them that are the ca>'se thereof !
Riv. A virtuous and a Christian-like con-
clusion,
To pray for them that have done scathe to us.
Glo. So do I ever, being well advis'd ;
For had I curs'd now, I had curs'd myself.
[Aside.
Enter CATESBY.
Gates. Madam, his majesty doth callfor you,
And for your grace, and you. my noble lords.
682
KING RICHARD III.
L ACT I.
Q. Eliz. Catesby, I come. Lords, will you
go with me?
Riv. We wait upon your grace.
[Exeunt all bttt GLOSTER.
Glo. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl.
The secret mischiefs that I set abroach
I lay unto the grievous charge of others.
Clarence, whom I, indeed, have cast in dark-
ness,
I do beweep to many simple gulls ;
Namely, to Stanley, Hastings, Buckingham ;
And tell them 'tis the queen and her allies
That stir the king against the duke my brother.
Now, they believe it ; and withal whet me
To be reveng'd on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey :
But then I sigh ; and, with a piece of Scripture,
Tell them that God bids us do good for evil :
And thus I clothe my naked villany
With odd old ends stol'n forth of holy writ ;
And seem a saint when most I play the devil.
But, soft ! here come my executioners.
Enter two Murderers.
How now, my hardy, stout-resolved mates !
Are you now going to despatch this thing ?
I Murd. We are, my lord, and come to have
the warrant,
That we may be admitted where he is.
Glo. Well thought upon; I have it here
about me : [Gives the warrant.
When you have done, repair to Crosby Place.
But, sirs, be sudden in the execution,
Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead ;
For Clarence is well-spoken, and perhaps
May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him.
I Murd. Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand
to prate ;
Talkers are no good doers : be assur'd
We go to use our hands, and not our tongues.
Glo. Your eyes drop millstones when fools'
eyes fall tears :
I like you, lads ; about your business straight ;
Go, go, despatch.
I Murd. We will, my noble lord.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV. LONDON. A Room in the Tower.
Enter CLARENCE and BRAKENBURY.
Brak. Why looks your grace so heavily to-
day?
Clar. O, I have pass'd a miserable night,
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights,
That, as I am a Christian faithful man,
I would not spend another such a night
Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days,
So full of dismal terror was the time !
Brak. What was your dream, my lord ? I pray
you, tell me. [Tower,
Clar. Methought that I had broken from the
And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy ;
And, in my company, my brother Gloster ;
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk
Upon the hatches : thence we look'd toward
England,
And cited up a thousand heavy times,
During the wars of York and Lancaster,
That had befall'n us. As we pac'd along
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,
Methought that Gloster stumbled ; and, in
falling, [board
Struck me, that thought to stay him, over-
Into the tumbling billows of the main.
Lord ! methought what pain it was to drown !
What dreadful noise of water in mine ears !
What sights of ugly death within mine eyes !
Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks ;
A thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon ;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalu'd jewels,
All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea : [holes
Some lay in dead men's skulls ; and in those
Where eyes did once inhabit there were crept,
As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems,
That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep,
And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
Brak. Had you such leisure in the time of
death
To gaze upon the secrets of the deep ? [strive
Clar. Methought I had ; and often did I
To yield the ghost : but still the envious flood
Stopp'd in my soul, and would not let it forth
To find the empty, vast, and wandering air ;
But smother'd it within my panting bulk,
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.
Brak. Awak'd you not with this sore agony ?
Clar. No, no, my dream was lengthen'd after
life;
O, then began the tempest to my soul !
1 pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood
With that grim ferryman which poets write of,
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.
The first that there did greet my stranger soul
Was my great father-in-law, renowned War-
wick ;
Who cried aloud, What scourge for perjury
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?
And so he vanish'd : then came wandering by
A shadow like an Angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood ; and he shriek'd out aloud,
Clarence is come, -false, fleeting, perju^d Clar-
ence,
That stabtfd me in the field by Teivksbury ;
Seize on him, Furies, take him to your torments !
SCENE IV.]
KING RICHARD III.
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends
Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears
Such hideous cries that, with the very noise,
I trembling wak'd, and for a season after
Could not believe but that I was in hell,
Such terrible impression made my dream.
Brak. No marvel, lord, though it affrighted
you ;
I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.
Clar. O Brakenbury, I have done those things
That now give evidence against my soul,
For Edward's sake ; and see how he requites
me ! [thee,
God 1 If my deep prayers cannot appease
But thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds,
Yet execute thy wrath in me alone,
O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor chil-
dren !
Keeper, I pr'ythee, sit by me awhile ;
My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.
Brak. I will, my lord; God give your grace
good rest !
[CLARENCE reposes himself on a chair.
Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours,
Makes the night morning, and the noontide
night.
Princes have but their titles for their glories,
An outward honour for an inward toil ;
And, for unfelt imaginations,
They often feel a world of restless cares :
So that, between their titles and low name,
There 's nothing differs but the outward fame.
Enter the two Murderers.
I Murd. Ho ! who 's here ?
Brak. What wouldst thou, fellow ? and how
cam'st thou hither ?
1 Murd. I would speak with Clarence, and I
came hither on my legs.
Brak. What, so brief?
2 Murd. 'Tis better, sir, than to be tedious.
Let him see our commission i talk no more.
[A fager is delivered 10 BRAK. , who reads it.
Brak. I am, in this, commanded to deliver
The noble Duke of Clarence to your hands :
1 will not reason what is meant hereby,
Because I will be guiltless of the meaning.
There lies the duke asleep, and there the keys ;
I '11 to the king, and signify to him
That thus I have resign'd to you my charge.
1 Murd. You may, sir ; 'tis a point of
wisdom : fare you well. [Exit BRAKENBURY.
2 Murd. What, shall we stab him as he
sleeps ?
I Murd. No ; he '11 say 'twas done cowardly,
when he wakes.
2 Murd. When he wakes ! why, fool, he shall
never wake until the great judgment-day.
1 Murd. Why, then he '11 say we stabb r d him
sleeping.
2 Murd. The urging of that word judgment
hath bred a kind of remorse in me.
1 Murd. What, art thou afraid ?
2 Murd. Not to kill him, having a warrant
for it ; but to be damned for killing him, from
the which no warrant can defend me.
1 Murd. I thought thou hadst been resolute.
2 Murd. So I am, to let him live.
1 Murd. I '11 back to the Duke of Gloster,
and tell him so.
2 Murd. Nay, I pr'ythee, stay a little : I hope
my holy humour will change ; it was wont to
hold me but while one tells twenty.
1 Murd. How dost thou feel thyself now ?
2 Murd. Faith, some certain dregs of con-
science are yet within me.
1 Murd. Remember our reward, when the
deed 's done. [reward.
2 Murd. Zounds, he dies: I had forgot the
1 Murd. Where 's thy conscience now ?
2 Murd. In the Duke of Gloster's purse.
1 Murd. So, when he opens his purse to give
us our reward, thy conscience flies out.
2 Murd. 'Tis no matter ; let it go ; there 's
few or none will entertain it.
1 Murd. What if it come to thee again ?
2 Murd. I '11 not meddle with it, it makes
a man a coward ; a man cannot steal, but it
accuseth him ; a man cannot swear, but it checks
him ; a man cannot lie with his neighbour's wife,
but it detects him : 'tis a blushing shame-faced
spirit that mutinies in a man's bosom ; it fills one
full of obstacles: it made me once restore a purse
of gold that by chance I found ; it beggars any
man that keeps it : it is turned out of all towns
and cities for a dangerous thing ; and every man
that means to live well endeavours to trust to
himself and live without it.
1 Murd. Zounds, it is even now at my elbow,
persuading me not to kill the duke.
2 Murd. Take the devil in thy mind, and
believe him not : he would insinuate with thee
but to make thee sigh.
1 Murd. I am strong-framed, he cannot pre-
vail with me.
2 Murd. Spoke like a tall fellow that respects
his reputation. Come, shall we fall to work ?
1 Murd. Take him on the costard with the
hilts of thy sword, and then throw him into the
malmsey-butt in the next room.
2 Murd. O excellent device ! and make a
sop of him.
I Murd. Soft 1 he wakes.
684
KING RICHARD III.
[ACT i.
2 Murd. Strike !
I Murd. No, we '11 reason with him.
Clar. Where art thou, keeper ? give me a cup
of wine.
I Murd. You shall have wine enough, my
lord, anon.
Clar. In God's name, what art thou ?
I Murd. A man, as you are.
Clar. But not, as I am, royal.
I Murd. Nor you, as we are, loyal.
Clar. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks
are humble.
I Murd. My voice is now the king's, my
looks mine own. [speak !
Clar. How darkly and how deadly dost thou
Your eyes do menace me: why look you pale?
Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come?
Both Murd. To, to, to
Clar. To murder me ?
Both Murd. Ay, ay. [so,
Clar. You scarcely have the hearts to tell me
And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it.
Wherein, my friends, have I offended you ?
1 Murd. Offended us you have not, but the
king.
Clar. I shall be reconcil'd to him again.
2 Murd. Never, my lord ; therefore prepare
to die. [men
Clar. Are you drawn forth among a world of
To slay the innocent ? What is my offence?
What is the evidence that doth accuse me ?
Where lawful quest have given their verdict up
Unto the frowning judge? or who pronounc'd
The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death ?
Before I be convict by course of law,
To threaten me with death is most unlawful.
I charge you, as you hope to have redemption
By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins,
That you depart, and lay no hands on me :
The deed you undertake is damnable.
1 Murd. What we will do, we do upon com-
mand.
2 Murd. And he that hath commanded is our
king. [kings
Clar. Erroneous vassals ! the great King of
Hath in the table of his law commanded
That thou shalt do no murder : will you then
Spurn at his edict, and fulfil a man's ?
Take heed ; for he holds vengeance in his hand,
To hurl upon their heads that break his law.
2 Murd. And that same vengeance doth he
hurl on thee
For false forswearing, and for murder too :
Thou didst receive the sacrament to fight
In quarrel of the house of Lancaster.
I Murd. And, like a traitor to the name of
God,
Didst break that vow ; and with thy treacher-
ous blade
Unripp'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son.
2 Murd. Whom thou wast sworn to cherish
and defend.
I Murd. How canst thou urge God's dread-
ful law to us,
When thou hast broke it in such dear degree ?
Clar. Alas ! for whose sake did I that ill
deed?
For Edward, for my brother, for his sake :
He sends you not to murder me for this ;
For in that sin he is as deep as I.
If God will be avenged for the deed,
O, know you yet, he doth it publicly :
Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm ;
He needs no indirect nor lawless course
To cut off those that have offended him.
I Murd. Who made thee, then, a bloody
minister
When gallant-springing brave Plantagenet,
That princely novice, was struck dead by thee?
Clar. My brother's love, the devil, and my
rage. [thy faults,
1 Murd. Thy brother's love, our duty, and
Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee.
Clar* If you do love my brother, hate not ma ;
I am his brother, and I love him well.
If you are hir'd for meed, go back again,
And I will send you to my brother Gloster,
Who shall reward you better for my life
Than Edward will for tidings of my death.
2 Murd. You are deceiv'd, your brother
Gloster hates you. [dear :
Clar. O, no, he loves me, and he holds me
Go you to him from me.
Both Murd. Ay, so we will.
Clar. Tell him, when that our princely father
York
Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm,
And charg'd us from his soul to love each other,
He little thought of this divided friendship :
Bid Gloster think on this, and he will weep.
I Murd. Ay, millstones; as he lesson'd us to
weep.
Clar. O, do not slander him, for he is kind,
i Murd. Right as snow in harvest. Come,
you deceive yourself :
'Tis he that sends us to destroy you here.
Clar. It cannot be ; for he bewept my fortune,
And hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with
sobs,
That he would labour my delivery.
1 Murd. Why, so he doth, when he delivers you
From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven.
2 Murd. Make peace with God, for you must
die, my lord.
SCENE IV.]
KING RICHARD IIL
685
Clar. Have you that holy feeling in your souls,
To counsel me to make my peace with God,
And are you yet to your own souls so blind
That you will war with God by murdering me?
O, sirs, consider, they that set you on
To do this deed will hate you for the deed.
2 Murd, What shall we do ?
Clar. Relent, and save your souls.
1 Murd. Relent I 'tis cowardly and woman-
ish, [ish.
Clar. Not to relent is beastly, savage, devil-
Which of you, if you were a prince's son,
Being pent from liberty, as I am now,
If two such murderers as yourselves came to
you,
Would not entreat for life ?
My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks ;
O, if thine eye be not a flatterer,
Come thou on my side, and entreat for me,
As you would beg, were you in my distress :
A begging prince what beggar pities not ?
2 Murd. Look behind you, my lord.
1 Murd. Take that, and that: if all this will
not do, [Stabs him.
I 'II drown you in the malmsey-butt within.
[Exit -with the body.
2 Murd. A bloody deed, and desperately
despatch'd 1
How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands
Of this most grievous guilty murder done !
Re-enter First Murderer.
1 Murd. How now, what mean'st thou, that
thou help'st me not?
By heaven, the duke shall know how slack you
have been. [brother !
2 Murd. I would he knew that I had sav'd his
Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say ;
For I repent me that the duke is slain. [Exit.
I Murd. So do not I : go, coward as thou
art.
Well, I'll go hide the body in some hole,
Till that the duke give order for his burial :
And when I have my meed, I will away;
For this will out, and then I must not stay.
[Exit.
ACT II.
SCENE I. LONDON. A Room in the Palace.
Enter KING EDWARD, led in sick: QUEEN
ELIZABETH, DORSET, RIVERS, HASTINGS,
BUCKINGHAM, GREY, and others.
K. Edw. Why, so; now have I done a good
day's work :
You peers, continue this united league :
I every day expect an embassage
From my Redeemer, to redeem me hence ;
And now in peace my soul shall part to heaven.
Since I have made my friends at peace on
earth.
Rivers and Hastings, take each other's hand ;
Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love.
Riv. By heaven, my soul is purg'd from
grudging hate ;
And with my hand I seal my true heart's love.
Hast. So thrive I, as I truly swear the like !
K. Edw. Take heed you dally not before your
king ;
Lest he that is the supreme King of kings
Confound your hidden falsehood, and award
Either of you to be :he other's end.
Hast. So prosper I, as I swear perfect love !
Riv. And I, as I love Hastings with my
heart 1
K. Edw. Madam, yourself are not exempt
from this,
Nor you, son Dorset, Buckingham, nor you ;
You have been factious one against the other.
Wife, love Lord Hastings, let him kiss your
hand;
And what you do, do it unfeignedly.
Q. Eliz. There, Hastings ; I will never more
remember
Our former hatred, so thrive I and mine !
K. Ldw. Dorset, embrace him ; Hastings,
love lord marquis.
Dor. This interchange of love I here protest,
Upon my part shall be inviolable.
Hast. And so swear I. [Embraces DORSET.
K. Edw. Now, princely Buckingham, seal
thou this league
With thy embracements to my wife's allies,
And make me happy in your unity. [hate
Buck. Whenever Buckingham doth turn his
Upon your grace [to the QUEEN], but with all
duteous love
Doth cherish you and yours, God punish me
With hate in those where I expect most
love!
When I have most need to employ a friend,
And most assured that he is a friend,
Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile,
Be he unto me ! this do I beg of heaven
When I am cold in love to you or yours.
{Embracing RIVERS, drV.
K. Edw. A pleasing cordial, princely Buck-
ingham,
Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart
There wanteth now our brother Gloster here,
To make the blessed period of this peace.
Buck. And, in good time, here comes the
noble duke.
686
KING RICHARD III.
[ACT n.
Enter GLOSTER.
Glo. Good-morrow to my sovereign king and
queen ;
And, princely peers, a happy time of day !
K. Ediv. Happy, indeed, as we have spent
the day.
Gloster, we have done deeds of charity ;
Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate,
Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.
Glo. A blessed labour, my most sovereign
lord.
Among this princely heap, if any here,
By false intelligence or wrong surmise,
Hold me a foe ;
If I unwittingly, or in my rage,
Have aught committed that is hardly borne
By any in this presence, I desire
To reconcile me to his friendly peace :
'Tis death to me to be at enmity ;
I hate it, and desire all good men's love.
First, madam, I entreat true peace of you,
Which I will purchase with my duteous service;
Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham,
If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us ;
Of you, and you, Lord Pavers, and of Dorset,
That all without desert have frown'd on me ;
Of you, Lord Woodville, and, Lord Scales, of
you ; [all.
Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen; indeed, of
I do not know that Englishman alive
With whom my soul is any jot at odds
More than the infant that is born to-night:
I thank my God for my humility. [after :
Q. Eliz. A holiday shall this be kept here-
I would to God all strifes were well com-
pounded.
My sovereign lord, I do beseech your highness
To take our brother Clarence to your grace.
Glo. Why, madam, have I offer'd love for this,
To be so flouted in this royal presence?
Who knows not that the gentle duke is dead?
[They all start.
You do him injury to scorn his corse.
K. Edw. Who knows not he is dead ! who
knows he is ? [this !
Q. Eliz. All-seeing heaven, what a world is
Buck. Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the
rest? [presence
Dor. Ay, my good lord ; and no man in the
But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks.
K. Edw. Is Clarence dead? the order was
revers'd. [died,
Glo. But he, poor man, by your first order
And that a winged Mercury did bear ;
Some tardy cripple bore the countermand
That came too lag to see him buried.
God grant that some, less noble and less loyal,
Nearer in bloody thoughts, but not in blood,
Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did,
And yet go current from suspicion !
Enter STANLEY.
Stan. A boon, my sovereign, for my service
done \ [sorrow.
K. Edw. I pr'ythee, peace: my soul is full of
Stan. I will not rise unless your highness hear
me. [quest'st.
K. Edw. Then say at once what is it thou re-
Stan. The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's
life;
Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman
Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk.
K. Edw. Have I a tongue to doom my
brother's death,
And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave ?
My brother kill'd no man, his fault was thought,
And yet his punishment was bitter death.
Who su'd to me for him ? who, in my wrath,
Kneel'd at my feet, and bid me be advis'd ?
Who spoke of brotherhood? who spoke of
love?
Who told me how the poor soul did forsake
The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me?
Who told me, in the field at Tewksbury,
When Oxford had me down, he rescu'd me,
And said, Dear brother, live, and be a king's
Who told me, when we both lay in the field
Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me
Even in his garments, and did give himself,
All thin and naked, to the numb-cold night?
All this from my remembrance brutish wrath
Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you
Had so much grace to put it in my mind.
But when your carters or your waiting- vassals
Have done a drunken slaughter, and defac'd
The precious image of our dear Redeemer,
You straight are on your knees for pardon^
pardon ;
And I, unjustly too, must grant it you :
But for my brother not a man would speak,
Nor I, ungracious, speak unto myself
For him, poor soul. The proudest of you all
Have been beholden to him in his life ;
Yet none of you would once beg for his life.
O God, I fear thy justice will take hold
On me, and you, and mine, and yours, for this !
Come, Hastings, help me to my closet.
Ah, poor Clarence !
[Exeunt KING, QUEEN, HAST., Riv.,
DOR., zwd?GREY.
Glo. This is the fruit of rashness ! Mark'd
you not
How that the guilty kindred of the queen
SCENE II.]
KING RICHARD III.
Look'd pale when they did hear of Clarence'
death?
O, they did urge it sail unto the king !
God will revenge it. Come, lords, will you go
To comfort Edward with our company?
Buck. We wait upon your grace. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. Another Room in the Palace.
Enter the DUCHESS OF YORK, with a Son and
Daughter of CLARENCE.
Son. Good grandam, tell us, is our father
dead?
Duck. No, boy. [your breast,
Datigh. Why do you weep so oft, and beat
And cry, O Clarence, my unhappy son!
Son. Why do you look on us, and shake your
head,
And call us orphans, wretches, castaways,
If that our noble father be alive? [both;
Duch. My pretty cousins, you mistake me
I do lament the sickness of the king,
As loth to lose him, not your father's death ;
It were lost sorrow to wail one that 's lost.
Son. Then you conclude, my grandam, he is
dead.
The king mine uncle is to blame for this :
God will revenge it; whom I will importune
With earnest prayers all to that effect.
Daiigh. And so will I.
Duch. Peace, children, peace ! the king doth
love you well :
Incapable and shallow innocents, [death.
You cannot guess who caus'd your father's
Son. Grandam, we can ; for my good uncle
Gloster
Told me, the king, provok'd to it by the queen,
Devis'd impeachments to imprison him :
And when my uncle told me so, he wept,
And pitied me, and kindly kiss'd my cheek ;
Bade me rely on him as on my father,
And he would love me dearly as his child.
Dttch. Ah, that deceit should steal such
gentle shape,
And with a virtuous visard hide deep vice !
He is my son ; ay, and therein my shame ;
Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit.
Son. Think you my uncle did dissemble,
grandam?
Duch. Ay, boy. [this?
Son. I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is
Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, distractedly ;
RIVERS and DORSET following her.
Q. Eliz. Ah, who shall hinder me to wail
and weep,
To chide my fortune, and torment myself?
I '11 join with black despair against my soul,
And to myself become an enemy. [patience?
Duch. What means this scene of rude im-
Q. Eliz. To make an act of tragic violence :
Edward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead.
Why grow the branches when the root is gone?
Why wither not the leaves that want their sap?
If you will live, lament; if die, be brief,
That our swift- winged souls may catch the
king's ;
Or, like obedient subjects, follow him
To his new kingdom of perpetual rest. [row
Duch. Ah, so much interest have I in thy sor-
As I had title in thy noble husband !
I have bewept a worthy husband's death,
And liv'd by looking on his images :
But now two mirrors of his princely semblance
Are crack'd in pieces by malignant death,
And I for comfort have but one false glass,
That grieves me when I see my shame in him.
Thou art a widow yet thou art a mother,
And hast the comfort of thy children left :
But death hath snatch'd my husband from mine
arms, [hands,
And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble
Clarence and Edward. O, what cause have I,
Thine being but a moiety of my moan,
To overgo thy woes and drown thy cries?
Son. Ah, aunt, you wept not for our father's
death !
How can we aid you with our kindred tears?
Daugh. Our fatherless distress was left un-
moan'd,
Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept !
Q. Eliz. Give me no help in lamentation ;
I am not barren to bring forth complaints:
All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,
That I, being govern'd by the watery moon,
May send forth plenteous tears to drown the
world !
Ah for my husband, for my dear Lord Edward !
ChiL Ah for our father, for our dear Lord
Clarence ! [Clarence !
Duch. Alas for both, both mine, Edward and
Q. Eliz. What stay had I but Edward? and
he 's gone. [he 's gone.
Chil. What stay had we but Clarence? and
Duch. What stays had I but they? and they
are gone.
Q. Eliz. Was never widow had so dear a loss !
Chil. Were never orphans had so dear a loss !
Duch. Was never mother had so dear a loss !
Alas, I am the mother of these griefs !
Their woes are parcell'd, mine are general.
She for an Edward weeps, and so do I ;
I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she:
These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I ;
KING RICHARD III.
[ACT n.
I for an Edward weep, so do not they :
Alas, you three, on me, threefold distress'd,
Pour all your tears ! I am your sorrow's nurse,
And I will pamper it with lamentation.
Dor. Comfort, dear mother: God is much
displeas'd
That you take with unthankfulness his doing :
In common worldly things 'tis call'd ungrateful,
With dull unwillingness to repay a debt
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent ;
Much more to be thus opposite with heaven,
For it requires the royal debt it lent you.
Riv. Madam, bethink you, like a careful
mother, [for him ;
Of the young prince your son: send straight
Let him be crown'd ; in him your comfort lives :
Drown desperate sorrow in dead Ed ward's grave,
And plant your joys in living Edward's throne.
Enter GLOSTER, BUCKINGHAM, STANLEY,
HASTINGS, RATCLIFF, and others.
Glo. Sister, have comfort: all of us have
cause
To wail the dimming of our shining star ;
But none can cure their harms by wailing
them.
Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy;
I did not s^e your grace : humbly on my knee
I crave your blessing. [thy breast,
Duck. God bless thee ; and put meekness in
Love, charity, obedience, and true duty I
Glo. Amen; and make me die a good old
man!
That is the butt end of a mother's blessing ;
I marvel that her grace did leave it out [Aside.
Buck. You cloudy princes and heart-sorrow-
ing peers,
That bear this heavy mutual load of moan,
Now cheer each other in each other's love :
Though we have spent our harvest of this king,
We are to reap the harvest of his son.
The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts,
But lately splinter'd, knit, and join'd together,
Must gently be preserv'd, cherish'd, and kept :
Me seemeth good that, with some little train,
Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fet
Hither to London, to be crown'd our king.
Riv. Why with some little train, my Lord
of Buckingham?
Buck. Marry, my lord, lest, by a multitude,
The new-heal'd wound of malice should break
out;
Which would be so much the more dangerous
By how much the estate is green and yet un-
govern'd :
Where every horse bears his commanding rein,
And may direct his course as please himself,
As well the fear of harm as harm apparent,
In my opinion, ought to be prevented. [us;
Glo. I hope the king made peace with all of
And the compact is firm and true in me.
Riv. And so in me; and so, I think, in all:
Yet, since it is but green, it should be put
To no apparent likelihood of breach,
Which haply by much company might be urg'd:
Therefore I say wiui noble Buckingham,
That it is meet so few should fetch the prince.
Hast. And so say I.
Glo. Then be it so ; and go we to determine
Who they shall be that straight shall post to
Ludlow.
Madam, and you, my mother, will you go
To give your censures in this business?
{Exeunt all but BUCK, and GLO.
Buck. My lord, whoever journeys to the
prince,
For God's sake, let not us two stay at home ;
For by the way I '11 sort occasion,
As index to the story we late talk'd of,
To part the queen's proud kindred from the
prince.
Glo. My other self, my counsel's consistory,
My oracle, my prophet ! my dear cousin,
I, as a child, will go by thy direction.
Toward Ludlow then, for we '11 not stay behind.
{Exeunt.
SCENE III. LONDON. A Street.
Enter two Citizens, meeting.
1 Cit. Good-morrow, neighbour: whithei
away so fast ?
2 Cit. I promise you, I scarcely know myself:
Hear you the news abroad ?
1 Cit. Yes, that the king is dead.
2 Cit. Ill news, by 'r lady ; seldom comes the
better :
I fear, I fear 'twill prove a giddy world.
Entef a third Citizen.
3 Cit. Neighbours, God speed !
1 Cit. Give you good-morrow, sir.
3 Cit. Doth the news hold of good King Ed-
ward's death ? [while !
2 Cit. Ay, sir, it is too true ; God help, the
3 Cit. Then, masters, look to see a troublous
world.
1 Cit. No, no ; by God's good grace, his son
shall reign. [a child !
3 Cit. Woe to that land that 's govern'd by
2 Cit. In him there is a hope of government,
Which, in his nonage, council under him,
And, in his full and ripen'd years, himself,
No doubt, shall then, and till then, govern well.
SCENE IV.]
KING RICHARD III.
689
I Cit. So stood the state when Henry the Sixth
Was crown'd in Paris but at nine months old.
3 Cit. Stood the state so? No, no, good
friends, God wot ;
For then this land was famously enrich'd
With politic grave counsel ; then the king
Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace.
I Cit. Why, so hath this, both by his father
and mother.
3 Cit. Better it were they all cameby his father,
Or by his father there were none at all ;
For emulation now, who shall be nearest,
Will touch us all too near if God prevent not.
O, full of danger is the Duke of Gloster !
And the queen's son;; and brothers haught and
proud :
And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule,
This sickly land might solace as before.
1 Cil. Come, come, we fear theworst ; all will
be well.
3 Cit. When clouds are seen, wise men put
on their cloaks ;
When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand ;
When the sun sets, who doth not look for
night ?
Untimely storms make men expect a dearth.
\11 may be well ; but, if God sort it so,
Tis more than we deserve or I expect.
2 Cit. Truly, the hearts of men are full of fear :
7ou cannot reason almost with a man
That looks not heavily and full of dread.
3 Cit. Before the days of change, still is it so :
By a divine instinct men's minds mistrust
Ensuing danger ; as, by proof, we see
The water swell before a boisterous storm.
But leave it all to God. Whither away?
2 Cit. Marry, we were sent for to the justices.
3 Cit. And so was I : I '11 bear you company.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV. LONDON. A Room in the Palace.
Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, the young
DUKE OF YORK, QUEEN ELIZABETH, and
the DUCHESS OF YORK.
Arch. Last night, I hear, they at Northamp-
ton lay ;
And at Stony-Stratford will they be to-night :
To-morrow or next day they will be here.
Dttch. I long with all my heart to see the
prince :
I hope he is much grown since last I saw him.
Q. Eliz. But I hear no ; they say my son of
York
Has almost overta'en him in his growth.
York. Ay, mother ; but I would not have it so.
Duch. Why, my young cousin ? it is good to
grow. [supper,
York. Grandam, one night, as we did sit at
My uncle Rivers talk'cl how I did grow
More than my brother: Ay> quoth my uncle
Gloster, [apace:
Small kerbs have grace, great weeds do grow
And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast,
Because sweet flowers are slow, and weeds make
haste. [not hold
Duck. Good faith, good faith, the saying did
In him that did object the same to thee :
He was the wretched'st thing when he was
young.
So long a growing, and so leisurely,
That, if his rule were true, he should be gracious.
Arch. And so no doubt he is, my gracious
madam.
Duck. I hope he is ; but yet let mothers doubt
York. Now, by my troth, if I had been re-
member'd,
I could have given my uncle's grace a flout,
To touch his growth nearer than he touch 'd mine.
Duck. How, my young York? I pr'ythee, let
me hear it.
York. Marry, they say my uncle grew so fast
That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old :
'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth.
Grandam, this \*ould have been a biting jest.
Duck. I pr'ythee, pretty York, who told thee
this?
York. Grandam, his nurse. [wast born.
Duck. His nurse ! why she was dead ere thou
York. If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who
told me. [shrewd.
Q. Eliz. A parlous boy : go to, you are too
Arch. Good madam, be not angry with the
child.
Q. Eliz. Pitchers have ears.
Arch. Here comes a messenger.
Enter a Messenger.
What news? [report.
Mess. Such news, my lord, as grieves me to
Q. Eliz. Ho\\ doth the prince ?
Mess. Well, madam, and in health.
Ditch. What is thy news ?
Mess. Lord Rivers and Lord Grey are sent
to Pomfret,
With them Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners.
Duck. Who hath committed them ?
Mess. The mighty dukes
Gloster and Buckingham.
Q. Eliz. For what offence?
Mess. The sum of all I can, I have disclos'd;
Why or for what the nobles were committed
Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady.
690
KING RICHARD III.
[ACT in.
Q. Eliz. Ah me, I see the ruin of my house !
The tiger now hath seiz'd the gentle hind ;
Insulting tyranny begins to jet
Upon the innocent and awless throne :
Welcome, destruction, blood, and massacre !
I see, as in a map, the end of all. [days \
Duck. Accurs'd and unquiet wrangling
How many of you have mine eyes beheld ?
My husband lost his life to get the crown ;
And often up and down my sons were toss'd,
For me to joy and weep their gain and loss :
And being seated, and domestic broils
Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors,
Make war upon themselves ; brother to brother,
Blood to blood, self against self: O, preposter-
ous
And frantic outrage, end thy damned spleen ;
Or let me die, to look on death no more !
Q. Eliz. Come, come, my boy ; we will to
sanctuary.
Madam, farewell.
Duch. Stay, I will go with you.
Q. Eliz. You have no cause.
Arch. My gracious lady, go.
[To the QUEEN.
And thither bear your treasure and your goods.
For my part, I 'II resign unto your grace
The seal I keep ; and so betide to me
As well I tender you and all of yours !
Come, I 'II conduct you to the sanctuary.
[Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I. LONDON. A Street.
The trumpets sound. Enter the PRINCE OF
WALES, GLOSTER, BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY,
CARDINAL BOUCHIER, and others.
Buck. Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to
your chamber.
Glo. Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sove-
reign :
The weary way hath made you melancholy.
Prince. No, uncle ; but our crosses on the way
Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy :
I want more uncles here to welcome me.
Glo. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of
your years
Kath not yet div'd into the world's deceit :
No more can you distinguish of a man
Than of his outward show; which, God he
knows,
Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart.
Those uncles which you want were dangerous ;
Your grace attended to their sugar'd words,
But look'd not on the poison of their hearts :
God keep you from them, and from such false
friends !
Prince. God keep me from false friends ! but
they were none. [greet you.
Glo. My lord, the mayor of London comes to
Enter the Lord Mayor and his Train.
May. God bless your grace with health and
happy days !
Prince. I thank you, good my lord; and
thank you all. {Exeunt Mayor, &*c.
I thought my mother and my brother York
Would long ere this have met us on the way :
Fie, what a slug is Hastings, that he comes not
To tell us whether they will come or no !
Buck. And, in good time, here comes the
sweating lord.
Enter HASTINGS.
Prince. Welcome, my lord : what, will our
mother come?
Hast. On what occasion, God he knows, not I,
The queen your mother and your brother York
Have taken sanctuary : the tender prince
Would r ain have come with me to meet yourgrace,
But by his mother was perforce withheld.
Buck. Fie, what an indirect and peevish course
Is this of hers ? Lord cardinal, will your grace
Persuade the queen to send the Duke of York
Unto his princely brother presently?
If she deny, Lord Hastings, go with him,
And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce.
Card. My Lord of Buckingham, if my weak
oratory
Can from his mother win the Duke of York,
Anon expect him here ; but if she be obdurate
To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid
We should infringe the holy privilege
Of blessed sanctuary ! not for all this land
Would I be guilty of so great a sin. [lord,
Buck. You are too senseless-obstinate, my
Too ceremonious and traditional :
Weigh it but with the grossness of this age,
You break not sanctuary in seizing him.
The benefit thereof is always granted
To those whose dealings have deserv'd the place,
And those who have the wit to claim the place :
This prince hath neither claim'd it nor deserv'd it;
And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it :
Then, taking him from hence that is not there,
You break no privilege nor charter there.
Oft have I heard of sanctuary-men ;
But sanctuary-children ne'er till now.
Card. My lord, you shall o'errule my mind
for once.
Come on, Lord Hastings, will you go with me?
SCENE
KING RICHARD III.
691
Hast, I go, my lord.
Prince. Good lords, make all the speedy haste
you may. [Exettnt CAR. and HAST.
Say, uncle Gloster, if our brother come,
Where shall we sojourn till our coronation ?
Glo. Where it seems best unto your royal self.
If I may counsel you, some day or two
Your highness shall repose you at the Tower :
Then where you please, and shall be thought
most fit
For your best health and recreation, [place.
Prince. I do not like the Tower, of any
Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord ?
Glo. He did, my gracious lord, begin that
place ;
Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified.
Prince. Is it upon record, or else reported
Successively from age to age, he built it ?
Buck. Upon record, my gracious lord.
Prince. But say, my lord, it werenot register'd,
Methinks the truth should live from age to age,
As 'twere retail'd to all posterity,
Even to the general all-ending day.
Glo. So wise so young, they say, do never
live long. [Aside.
Prince. What say you, uncle? [long.
Glo. I say, without characters, fame lives
Thus, like the formal vice, Iniquity,
I moralize two meanings in one word. [Aside.
Prince. That Julius Caesar was a famous man ;
With what his valour did enrich his wit,
His wit set down to make his valour live :
Death makes no conquest of this conqueror ;
For now he lives in fame, though not in life.
I '11 tell you what, my cousin Buckingham,
Buck. What, my gracious lord ?
Prince. An if I live until I be a man.
I '11 win our ancient right in France again,
Or die a soldier, as I liv'd a king.
Glo. Short summers lightly have a forward
spring.^ [Aside.
Buck. Now, in good time, here comes the
Duke of York:
Enter YORK, HASTINGS, and the CARDINAL.
Prince. Richard of York! how fares our
loving brother? [you now.
York. Well, my dread lord; so must I call
Prince. Ay brother, to our grief, as it is
yours :
Too late he died that might have kept that title,
Which by his death hath lost much majesty.
Glo. How fares our cousin, noble Lord of
York? [lord,
York. I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my
You said that idle weeds are fast in growth :
The prince my brother hath outgrown me far.
Glo. He hath, my lord.
York. And therefore is he idle?
Glo. O, my fair cousin, I must not say so.
York. Then is he more beholding to you
than I.
Glo. He may command me as my sovereign;
But you have power in me as in a kinsman.
York. I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger.
Glo. My dagger, little cousin? with all my
heart.
Prince. A beggar, brother? [give;
York. Of my kind uncle, that I know will
And being but a toy, which is no grief to give.
Glo. A greater gift than that I'll give my
cousin. [it.
York. A greater gift ! O, that 's the sword to
Glo. Ay, gentle cousin, were it light enough.
York. O then, I see, you will part but with
light gifts ;
In weightier things you Ml say a beggar nay.
Glo. It is too weighty for your grace to wear.
York. I weigh it lightly, were it heavier.
Glo. What, would you have my weapon, little
lord? [call me.
York. I would, that I might thank you as you
Glo. How?
York. Little. [in talk :
Prince. My Lord of York will still be cross
Uncle, your grace knows how to bear with him.
York. You mean, to bear me, not to bear
with me:
Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me ;
Because that I am little, like an ape,
He thinks that you should bear me on your
shoulders. [reasons !
Buck. With what a sharp-provided wit he
To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle,
He prettily and aptly taunts himself:
So cunning and so young is wonderful, [along?
Glo. My gracious lord, wil 't please to pass
Myself and my good cousin Buckingham
Will to your mother, to entreat of her
To meet you at the Tower, and welcome you.
York. What, will you go unto the Tower, my
lord? [so.
Prince. My lord protector needs will have it
York. I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower.
Glo. Why, what should you fear? [ghost:
York. Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry
My grandam told me he was murder'd there.
Prince. I fear no uncles dead.
Glo. Nor none that live, I hope. [fear.
Prince. An if they live, I hope I need not
But come, my lord ; and with a heavy heart,
Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower.
[Sennet. Exeunt PRINCE, YORK, HAST.,
CAR., and Attendants.
6 9 2
KING RICHARD III.
[ACT in.
Buck. Think you, my lord, this little prating
York
Was not incensed by his subtle mother
To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously?
Glo. No doubt, no doubt: O, 'tis a parlous
boy;
Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable:
He is all the mother's, from the top to toe.
Buck. Well, let them rest. Come hither,
Catesby. [tend
Thou art sworn as deeply to effect what we in-
As closely to conceal what we impart :
Thou know'st our reasons urg'd upon the way ;
What think'st thou? is it not an easy matter
To make William Lord Hastings of our mind,
For the instalment of this noble duke
In the seat royal of this famous isle? [prince
Gate. He for his father's sake so loves the
That he will not be won to aught against him.
Buck. What think'st thou then of Stanley?
will not he?
Gate. He will do all in all as Hastings doth.
Buck. Well, then, no more but this: go,
gentle Catesby, [ings
And, as it were far off, sound thou Lord Hast-
How he doth stand affected to our purpose;
And summon him to-morrow to the Tower,
To sit about the coronation.
If thou dost find him tractable to us,
Encourage him, and tell him all our reasons :
If he be leaden, icy, cold, unwilling,
Be thou so too ; and so break off the talk,
And give us notice of his inclination :
For we to-morrow hold divided councils,
Wherein thyself shalt highly be employ'd.
Glo. Commend me to Lord William: tell
him, Catesby,
His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries
To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret Castle;
And bid my lord, for joy of this good news,
Give Mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more.
Buck. Good Catesby, go, effect this business
soundly. [I can.
Gate. My good lords both, with all the heed
Glo. Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere
we sleep?
Gate. You shall, my lord.
Glo. At Crosby Place, there shall you find us
both. [Exit CATESBY.
Buck. Now, my lord, what shall we do if we
perceive
Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots?
Glo. Chop off his head, man ; somewhat we
will do:
And look, when I am king, claim thou of me
The earldom of Hereford, and all the movables
Whereof the king my brother was possess'd.
Buck. I '11 claim that promise at your grace's
hand. [kindness.
Glo. And look to have it yielded with all
Come, let us sup betimes, that afterwards
We may digest our complots in some form.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. Before LORD HASTINGS' House.
_, _..
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My lord, my lord ! [Knocking.
Hast. [Within.} Who knocks?
Mess. One from the Lord Stanley.
Hast. [Within.'} What is't o'clock?
Mess. Upon the stroke of four.
Enter HASTINGS.
Hast. Cannot my Lord Stanley sleep these
tedious nights?
Mess. So it appears by that I have to say.
First, he commends him to your noble self.
Hast. What then ? [night
Mess. Then certifies your lordship that this
He dreamt the boar had razed off his helm :
Besides, he says there are two councils held ;
And that may be determin'd at the one
Which may make you and him to rue at the
other. [pleasure,
Therefore he sends to know your lordship's
If you will presently take horse with him,
And with all speed post with him toward the
north,
To shun the danger that his soul divines.
Hast. Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord;
Bid him not fear the separated councils :
His honour and myself are at the one,
And at the other is my good friend Catesby ;
Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us
Whereof I shall not have intelligence.
Tell him his fears are shallow, without instance :
And for his dreams, I wonder he 's so simple
To trust the mockery of unquiet slumbers:
To fly the boar before the boar pursues,
Were to incense the boar to follow us,
And make pursuit where he did mean no chase.
Go, bid thy master rise and come to me ;
And we will both together to the Tower,
Where, he shall see, the boar will use us
kindly.
Mess. I '11 go, my lord, and tell him what
you say. [Exit.
Enter CATESBY.
Gate. Many good-morrows to my noble lord !
Hast. Good-morrow, Catesby ; you are early
stirring : [state ?
What news, what news, in this our tottering
SCENE II.]
KING RICHARD III.
693
Gate. It is a reeling world indeed, my lord ;
And I believe will never stand upright
Till Richard wear the garland of the realm.
Hast. How ! wear the garland ! dost thou
mean the crown?
Cafe. Ay, my good lord. [my shoulders
Hast. I '11 have this crown of mine cut from
Before I '11 see the crown so foul misplac'd.
But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it?
Cafe. Ay, on my life ; and hopes to find you
forward
Upon his party for the gain thereof:
And thereupon he sends you this good news,
That this same very day your enemies,
The kindred of the queen, must die at Pomfret.
Hast. Indeed, I am no mourner for that news,
Because they have been still my adversaries :
But that I '11 give my voice on Richard's side,
To bar my master's heirs in true descent,
God knows I will not do it to the death.
Cafe. God keep your lordship in that gra-
cious mind !
Hast. But I shall laugh at this a twelve
month hence,
That they who brought me in my master's hate,
I live to look upon their tragedy.
Well, Catesby, ere a fortnight make me older,
I '11 send some packing that yet think not on 't.
Gate. 'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious
lord,
When men are unprepar'd, and look not for it.
Hast. O monstrous, monstrous ! and so falls
it out
Witn Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: and so 'twill do
With some men else that think themselves as
safe
As thou and I ; who, as thou know'st, are dear
To princely Richard and to Buckingham.
Gate. The princes both make high account of
you,
For they account his head upon the bridge.
[Aside.
Hast. I know they do; and I have well de-
servM it.
Enter STANLEY.
Come on, come on ; where is your boar-spear,
man?
Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided?
Stan. My lord, good-morrow; and good-
morrow, Catesby:
You may jest on, but, by the holy rood,
I do not like these several councils, I.
Hast. My lord, I hold my life as dear as you
do yours ;
And never in my days, I do protest,
Was it more precious to me than 'tis now :
Think you, but that I know our state secure,
I would be so triumphant as I am?
Stan. The lords at Pomfret, when they rode
from London, [sure,
Were jocund, and suppos'd their states were
And they, indeed, had no cause to mistrust ;
But yet, you see, how soon the day o'ercast !
This sudden stab of rancour I misdoubt ;
Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward !
What, shall we toward the Tower? the day is
spent.
Hast. Come, come, have with you. Wot you
what, my lord?
To-day the lords you talk of are beheaded.
Stan. They, for their truth, might better
wear their heads [hats.
Than some that have accus'd them wear their
But come, my lord, let 's away.
Enter a Pursuivant.
Hast. Go on before ; I '11 talk with this good
fellow. [Exeunt STAN, and GATE.
How now, sirrah! how goes the world with
thee? [ask.
Purs. The better that your lordship please to
Hast. I tell thee, man, 'tis better with me
now [meet :
Than when thou mett'st me last where now we
Then was I going prisoner to the Tower,
By the suggestion of the queen's allies ;
But now, I tell thee, keep it to thyself
This day those enemies are put to death,
And I in better state than e'er I was.
Purs. God hold it, to your honour's good
content ! [me.
Hast. Gramercy, fellow : there, drink that for
[Throwing him his purse.
Purs. I thank your honour. [Exit.
Enter a Priest.
Pr. Well met, my lord; I am glad to see
your honour.
Hast. I thank thee, good Sir John, with all
my heart.
I am in your debt for your last exercise ;
Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you,
Enter BUCKINGHAM.
Buck. What, talking with a priest, lord cham-
berlain !
Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest ;
Your honour hath no shriving-work in hand.
Hast. Good faith, and when I met this holy
man,
The men you talk of came irxto my mind.
What, go you toward the Tower?
694
KING RICHARD III.
[ACT in.
Buck. I do, my lord ; but long I cannot stay
there :
I shall return before your lordship thence.
Hast. Nay, like enough, for I stay dinner
there.
Buck. And supper too, although thou know'st
it not. [Aside.
Come, will you go?
Hast. I '11 wait upon your lordship.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. POMFRET. Before the Castle.
Enter RATCLIFF, with a Guard, conducting
RIVERS, GREY, and VAUGHAN to execution.
Riv. Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee
this,
To-day shalt thou behold a subject die
For truth, for duty, and for loyalty. [of you !
Grey. God bless the prince from all the pack
A knot you are of damned blood-suckers.
Vaugh. You live that shall cry woe for this
hereafter.
Rat. Despatch ; the limit of your lives is out.
Riv. O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody
prison,
Fatal and ominous to noble peers !
Within the guilty closure of thy walls
Richard the Second here was hack'd to death :
And, for more slander to thy dismal seat,
We give thee Up our guiltless blood to drink.
Grey. Now Margaret's curse is fallen upon
our heads,
When she exclaim'd on Hastings, you, and I,
For standing by when Richard stabb'd her son.
Riv. Then curs'd she Richard, then curs'd she
Buckingham,
Then curs'd she Hastings: O, remember, God,
To hear her prayer for them, as now for us !
And for my sister and her princely sons,
Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood,
Which, as thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt !
Rat. Make haste ; the hour of death is ex-
piate.
Riv. Come, Grey, come, Vaughan, let us
here embrace :
Farewell, until we meet again in heaven.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV. LONDON. A Room in the Tower.
BUCKINGHAM, STANLEY, HASTINGS, the
BISHOP OF ELY, RATCLIFF, LOVEL, and
others ; sitting at a table: Officers of the
Council attending.
Hast. Now, noble peers, the cause why we
are met
Is to determine of the coronation.
In God's name, speak, when is the royal day?
Buck. Are all things ready for that royal time?
Stan. They are ; and wants but nomination.
Ely. To-morrow, then, I judge a happy day.
Buck. Who knows the lord protector's min?
herein ?
Who is most inward with the noble duke ?
Ely. You;' grace, we think, should soonest
know his mind.
Buck. We know each other's faces : for our
hearts,
He knows no more of mine than I of yours ;
Nor I of his, my lord, than you of mine.
Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love.
Hast. I thank his grace, I know he loves me
well ;
But for his purpose in the coronation
I have not sounded him, nor he deliver'd
His gracious pleasure any way therein :
But you, my noble lords, may name the time ;
And in the duke's behalf I '11 give my voice,
Which, I presume, he '11 take in gentle part.
Ely. In happy time, here comes the duke
himself.
Enter GLOSTER.
Glo. My noble lords and cousins all, good-
morrow.
I have been long a sleeper ; but I trust
My absence doth neglect no great design
Which by my presence might have been con-
cluded.
Buck. Had you not come upon your cue, my
lord, [part,
William Lord Hastings had pronounc'd your
I mean, your voice, for crowning of the king.
Glo. Than my Lord Hastings no man might
be bolder ; [well.
His lordship knows me well, and loves me
My lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn
I saw good strawberries in your garden there :
I do beseech you send for some of them.
Ely. Marry, and will, my lord, with all my
heart. [Exit.
Glo. Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you.
[Takes him aside.
Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business,
And finds the testy gentleman so hot
That he will lose his head ere give consent
His master's child, as worshipfully he terms it,
Shall lose the royalty of England's throne.
Buck. Withdraw yourself awhile ; I'll go with
you. \_Exeunt GLO. and BUCK.
Stan. We have not yet set down this day of
triumph.
To-morrow, in my judgment, is too sudden ;
SCENE IV.]
KING RICHARD III.
695
For I myself am not so well provided
As else I would be, were the day prolong'd.
Re-enter BISHOP OF ELY.
Ely. Where is my lord the Duke of Gloster?
I have sent for these strawberries.
Hast. His grace looks cheerfully and smooth
this morning ;
There 's some conceit or other likes him well
When that he bids good-morrow with such spirit.
I think there 's ne'er a man in Christendom
Can lesser hide his love or hate than he ;
For by his face straight shall you know his heart.
Stan. What of his heart perceive you in his
face
By any livelihood he showed to-day ?
Hast. Marry, that with no man here he is
offended ;
For, were he, he had shown it in his looks.
Re-enter GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM.
Glo. I pray you all, tell me what they deserve
That do conspire my death with devilish plots
Of damned witchcraft, and that have prevail'd
Upon my body with their hellish charms ?
Hast. The tender love I bear your grace, my
lord,
Makes me most forward in this princely presence
To doom the offenders : whosoe'er they be,
I say, my lord, they have deserved death.
Glo. Then be your eyes the witness of their
evil :
Look how I am bewitch'd ; behold, mine arm
Is, like a blasted sapling, wither'd up :
And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch,
Consorted with that harlot-strumpet Shore,
That by their witchcraft thus have marked me.
Hast. If they have done this deed, my noble
lord, [pet,
Glo. If! thou protector of this damned strum-
Talk'st thou to me of ifs ? Thou art a traitor :
Off with his head ! now, by Saint Paul I swear,
I will not dine until I see the same.
Lovel and Ratcliff : look that it be done :
The rest, that love me, rise and follow me.
[Exeunt all except H AST. , Lo v. , and R ATCLI FF.
Hast. Woe, woe, for England ! not a whit
for me ;
For I, too fond, might have prevented this.
Stanley did dream the boar did raze his helm ;
And I did scorn it, and disdain to fly.
Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did
stumble,
And started, when he look'd upon the Tower,
As loth to bear me to the slaughter-house.
O, now I need the priest that spake to me :
I now repent I told the pursuivant,
As too triumphing, how mine enemies
To-day at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd,
And I myself secure in grace and favour.
Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse
Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head.
Rat. Come, come, despatch ; the duke would
be at dinner :
Make a short shrift ; he longs to see your head.
Hast. O momentary grace of mortal men,
Which we more hunt for than the grace of God !
Who builds his hope in air of your good looks,
Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast,
Ready, with every nod, to tumble down
Into the fatal bowels of the deep.
Lav. Come, come, despatch ; 'tis bootless to
exclaim. [land !
Hast. O bloody Richard ! miserable Eng-
1 prophesy the fearfull'st time to thee
That ever wretched age hath look'd upon.
Come, lead me to the block ; bear him my head :
They smile at me who shortly shall be dead.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V. LONDON. The Tower Walls.
Enter GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM in rusty
armour, marvellous ill-favoured.
Glo. Come, cousin, canst thou quake and
change thy colour,
Murder thy breath in middle of a word,
And then again begin, and stop again,
As if thou wert distraught and mad with terror?
Buck. Tut, I can counterfeit the deep
tragedian ;
Speak and look back, and pry on every side,
Tremble and start at wagging of a straw,
Intending deep suspicion : ghastly looks
Are at my service, like enforced smiles ;
And both are ready in their offices,
At any time, to grace my stratagems.
But what, is Catesby gone ? [along.
Glo. He is ; and, see, he brings the mayor
Enter the Lord Mayor and CATESBY.
Buck. Lord mayor,
Glo. Look to the drawbridge there !
Buck. Hark ! a drum.
Glo. Catesby, o'erlook the walls.
Buck. Lord Mayor, the reason we have sent,
Glo. Look back, defend thee, here are
enemies.
Biuk. God and our innocency defend and
guard us ! [Lovel.
Glo. Be patient, they are friends, Ratcliff and
696
KING RICHARD III.
[ACT in.
Enter LOVEL 0#/KATCLiFF, with HASTINGS'
head.
Lov. Here is the head of that ignoble traitor,
The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings.
Glo. So dear I lov'd the man that I must
weep.
I took him for the plainest harmless creature
That breath'd upon the earth a Christian ;
Made him my book, wherein my soul recorded
The history of all her secret thoughts :
So smooth he daub'd his vice with show of virtue
That, his apparent open guilt omitted,
I mean, his conversation with Shore's wife,
He liv'd from all attainder of suspect.
Buck. Well, well, he was the covert'st
shelter'd traitor
That ever liv'd.
Would you imagine, or almost believe,
Were 't not that by great preservation
We live to tell it you, the subtle traitor
This day had plotted, in the council -house,
To murder me and my good Lord of Gloster !
May. Had he done so? [fidels?
Glo. What ! think you we are Turks or In-
Or that we would, against the form of law,
Proceed thus rashly in the villain's death,
But that the extreme peril of the case,
The peace of England and our persons' safety,
Enforc'd us to this execution ?
May. Now, fair befall you ! he deserv'd his
death ; [ceeded,
And your good graces both have well pro-
To warn false traitors from the like attempts.
I never look'd for better at his hands
After he once fell in -vith Mistress Shore, [die
Buck. Yet had we not determin'd he should
Until your lordship came to see his end ;
Which now the loving haste of these our friends,
Something against our meaning, hath prevented:
Because, my lord, we would have had you heard
The traitor speak, and timorously confess
The manner and the purpose of his treasons ;
That you might well have signified the same
Unto the citizens, who haply may
Misconstrue us in him, and wail his death.
May. But, my good lord, your grace's word
shall serve
As well as I had seen, and heard him speak :
And do not doubt, right noble princes both,
But I '11 acquaint our duteous citizens
With all your just proceedings in this case.
Glo. And to that end we wish'd your lordship
here,
To avoid the censures of the carping world.
Buck. But since you come too late of our in-
tent,
Yet witness what you hear we did intend :
And so, my good lord mayor, we bid farewell.
[Exit Lord Mayor.
Glo. Go, after, after, cousin Buckingham.
The mayor towards Guildhall hies him in all
post :
There, at your meetest vantage of the time,
Infer the bastardy of Edward's children :
Tell them how Edward put to death a citizen,
Only for saying he would make his son
Heir to the crown ; meaning, indeed, his house,
Which, by the sign thereof, was termed so.
Moreover, urge his hateful luxury,
And bestial appetite in change of lust ; [wives,
Which stretch'd unto their servants, daughters.
Even where his raging eye or savage heart,
Without control, listed to make a prey.
Nay, for a need, thus far come near my per-
son : [child
Tell them, when that my mother went with
Of that insatiate Edward, noble York,
My princely father, then had wars in France;
And, by true computation of the time,
Found that the issue was not his begot ;
Which well appeared in his lineaments,
Being nothing like the noble duke my father;
Yet touch this sparingly, as 'twere far off;
Because, my lord, you know my mother lives.
Buck. Doubt not, my lord, I '11 play the orator
As if the golden plea for which I plead
Were for myself: and Jo, my lord, adieu.
Glo. If you thrive well, bring them to Bay*
nard's Castle ;
Where you shall find me well accompanied
With reverend fathers and well learned bishops.
Buck. I go ; and towards three or four o'clock
Look for the news that the Guildhall affords.
[Exit.
Glo. Go, Lovel, with all speed to Doctor
Shaw. [both
Go thou \to GATE.] to Friar Penker ; bid them
Meet me within this hour at Baynard's Castle.
[Exeunt Lov. and GATE.
Now will I in, to take some privy order
To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight ;
And to give notice that no manner of person
Have any time recourse unto the princes. [Exit,
SCENE VI. LONDON. A Street.
Enter a Scrivener.
Scriv. Here is the indictment of the good
Lord Hastings;
Which in a set hand fairly is engross'd,
That it may be to-day read o'er in Paul's.
And mark how well the sequel hangs to-
gether:
SCENE VII.]
KING RICHARD III.
697
Eleven hours I have spent to write it over,
For yesternight by Catesby was it sent me ;
The precedent was full as long a-doing :
And yet within these five hours Hastings liv'd,
Untainted, unexamin'd, free, at liberty.
Here 's a good world the while ! Who is so gross
That cannot see this palpable device !
Yet who so bold but says he sees it not !
Bad is the world ; and all will come to naught
When such ill dealing must be seen in thought.
[Exit.
SCENE VII. LONDON. Court of Baynarcts
Castle.
Enter GLOSTFR and BUCKINGHAM, meeting.
Glo. How now, how now! what say the
citizens?
Btick. Now, by the holy mother of our Lord,
The citizens are mum, say not a word.
Glo. Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's
children? [Lucy,
Buck. I did; with his contract with Lady
And his contract by deputy in France;
The insatiate greediness of his desires,
And his enforcement of the city wives ;
His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy,
As being got, your father then in France,
And his resemblance, being not like the duke :
Withal I did infer your lineaments,
Being the right idea of your father,
Both in your form and nobleness of mind ;
Laid open all your victories in Scotland,
Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace,
Your bounty, virtue, fair humility;
Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose
Untouch'd or slightly handled in discourse :
And when my oratory drew toward end
I bid them that did love their country's good
Cry, God save Richard, England's royal king!
Glo. And did they so? [word;
Buck. No, so God help me, they spake not a
But, like dumb statuas or breathing stones,
Star'd each on other, and look'd deadly pale.
Which when I saw, I reprehended them ;
And ask'd the mayor what meant this wilful
silence :
His answer was, the people were not us'd
To be spoke to but by the recorder.
Then he was urg'd to tell my tale again,
Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke inferred;
But nothing spoke in warrant from himself.
When he had done, some followers of mine own,
At lower end of the hall, hurl'd up their caps,
And some ten voices cried, God save King
Richard!
And thus I took the vantage of those few,
Thanks, gentle citizens and friends, quoth I ;
This general applause and cheerful shout
Argues your -wisdom andymir love to Richard:
And even here brake off and came away.
Glo. What tongueless blocks were they!
would they not speak? [come?
Will not the mayor, then, and his brethren,
Buck. The mayor is here at hand. Intend
some fear;
Be not you spoke with but by mighty suit :
And look you get a prayer-book in your hand,
And stand between two churchmen, good iy
lord;
For on that ground I '11 make a holy descant :
And be not easily won to our requests ; [it.
Play the maid's part, still answer nay, and take
Glo. I go ; and if you plead as well for them
As I can say nay to thee for myself,
No doubt we bring it to a happy issue.
Buck. Go, go, up to the leads ; the lord mayoi
knocks. [Exit GLOSTER.
Enter the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Citizens.
Welcome, my lord : I dance attendance here ;
I think the duke will not be spoke withal.
Enter t from the Castle, CATESBY.
Now, Catesby, what says your lord to my
request? [lord,
Cote. He doth entreat your grace, my noble
To visit him to-morrow or next day :
He is within, with two right reverend fathers,
Divinely bent to meditation :
And in no worldly suit would he be mov*d,
To draw him from his holy exercise. [duke ;
Buck. Return, good Catesby, to the gracious
Tell him, myself, the mayor and aldermen,
In deep designs, in matter of great moment,
No less importing than our general good,
Are come to have some conference with his grace.
Cote. I '11 signify so much unto him straight.
[Exit.
Buck. Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an
Edward !
He is not lolling on a lewd day-bed,
But on his knees at meditation ;
Not dallying with a brace of courtezans,
But meditating with two deep divines ;
Not sleeping, to engross bis idle body,
But praying, to enrich his watchful soul :
Happy were England would this virtuous prince
Take on himself the sovereignty thereof:
But, sure, I fear, we shall not win him to it.
May. Marry, God defend his grace should
say us nay ! [again.
Buck. I fear he will. Here Catesby comes
698
KING RICHARD III.
[ACT in.
Re-enter CATESBY.
Now, Catesby, what says his grace?
Cafe. He wonders to what end you have as-
sembled
Such troops of citizens to come to him :
His grace not being warn'd thereof before,
He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him.
Buck. Sorry I am my noble cousin should
Suspect me, that I mean no good to him :
By heaven, we come to him in perfect love ;
And so once more return and tell his grace.
[Exit CATESBY.
When holy and devout religious men
Are at their beads, 'tis much to draw them
thence,
So sweet is zealous contemplation.
Enter GLOSTER, in a Gallery above, between
two Bishops. CATESBY returns.
May. See, where his grace stands 'tween two
clergymen ! [prince,
Buck. Two props of virtue for a Christian
To stay him from the fall of vanity :
And, see, a book of prayer in his hand,
True ornament to know a holy man.
Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince,
Lend favourable ear to our requests ;
And pardon us the interruption
Of thy devotion and right Christian zeal.
Glo. My lord, there needs no such apology :
I rather do beseech you pardon me,
Who, earnest in the service of my God,
Deferr'd the visitation of my friends. [sure?
But, leaving this, what is your grace's plea-
Buck. Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God
above,
And all good men of this ungovern'd isle.
Glo. I do suspect I have done some offence
That seems disgracious in the city's eye ;
And that you come to reprehend my ignorance.
Buck. You have, my lord : would it might
please your grace,
On our entreaties, to amend your fault !
Glo. Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian
land ? [resign
Buck. Know, then, it is your fault that you
The supreme seat, the throne majestical,
The scepter'd office of your ancestors, ^rri
Your state of fortune and your due of birth,
The lineal glory of your royal house,
To the corruption of a blemish'd stock :
Whilst, in the mildness of your sleepy
thoughts,
Which here we waken to our country's good,^-
This noble isle doth want her proper limbs ;
Her face defac'd with scars of infamy,
Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants,
And almost shoulderM in the swallowing gulf
Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion.
Which to recure, we heartily solicit
Your gracious self to take oil you the charge
And kingly government of this your land ;
Not as protector, steward, substitute,
Or lowly factor for another's gain ;
But as successively, from blood to blood,
Your right of birth, your empery, your own.
For this, consorted with the citizens
Your very worshipful and loving friends,
And, by their vehement instigation,
In this just suit come I to move your grace.
Glo. I cannot tell if to depart in silence
Or bitterly to speak in your reproof
Best fitteth my degree or your condition :
If not to answer, you might haply think
Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded
To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty,
Which fondly you would here impose on me 5
If to reprove you for this suit of yours,
So season'd with your faithful love to me,
Then, on the other side, I check'd my friends.
Therefore, to speak, and to avoid the first,
And then, in speaking, not to incur the last,
Definitively thus I answer you.
Your love deserves my thanks ; but my desert
Unmeritable shuns your high request.
First, if all obstacles were cut away,
And that my path were even to the crown,
As the ripe revenue and due of birth,
Yet so much is my poverty of spirit,
So mighty and so many my defects, [ness,
That I would rather hide me from my great-
Being a bark to brook no mighty sea,
Than in my greatness covet to be hid,
And in the vapour of my glory smother'd.
But, God be thank'd, there is no need of me, -
And much I need to help you, were there
need ;
The royai tree hath left us royal fruit,
Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time,
Will well become the seat of majesty,
And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign.
On him I lay that you would lay on me,
The right and fortune of his happy stars ;
Which God defend that I should wring from
him ! [grace ;
Buck. My lord, this argues conscience in your
But the respects thereof are nice and trivial,
All circumstances well considered.
You say that Edward is your brother's son s
So say we too, but not by Edward's wife ;
For first was he contract to Lady Lucy,
Your moiher lives a witness to his vow,
And afterward by substitute betroth'd
'SCENE vn.J
KING RICHARD III.
699
To Bona, sister to the King of France.
These both put off, a poor petitioner,
A care-craz'd mother to a many sons,
A beauty- waning and distressed widow,
Even in the afternoon of her best days.
Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye,
Seduc'd the pitch and height of his degree
To base declension and loath'd bigamy :
By her, in his unlawful bed, he got
This Edward, whom our manners call the prince.
More bitterly could I expostulate,
Save that, for reverence to some alive,
I give a sparing limit to my tongue.
Then, good my lord, take to your royal self
This proffer'd benefit of dignity ;
If not to bless us and the land withal,
Vet to draw forth your noble ancestry
From the corruption of abusing time
Unto a lineal true-derived course. [you.
May. Do, good my lord ; your citizens entreat
Buck. Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd
love. [suit !
Gate. O, make them joyful, grant their lawful
Glo. Alas, why would you heap those cares
on me?
I am unfit for state and majesty :
I do beseech you, take it not amiss ;
I cannot nor I will not yield to you.
Buck. If you refuse it, as, in love and zeal,
Loth to depose the child, your brothers son
As well we know your tenderness of heart,
And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse,
Which we have noted in you to your kindred,
And equally, indeed, to all estates,
Yet know, whe'i you accept our suit or no,
Your brother's son shall never reign our king;
But we will plant some other in the throne,
To the disgrace and downfall of your house :
And in this resolution here we leave you.
Come, citizens, we will entreat no more.
[Exeunt BUCK., the Mayor and Citizens
retiring.
Cate. Call them again, sweet prince, accept
their suit :
If you deny them, all the land will rue it.
Glo. Will you enforce me to a world of cares?
Call them again.
[GATE, goes to the Mayor, &*:., and then exit.
I am not made of stone,
But penetrable to your kind entreaties,
Albeit against my conscience and my soul.
fie-enter BUCKINGHAM and CATESBY, the
Mayor, &C. , coming forward.
Cousin of Buckingham, and sage, grave men,
Since you will buckle fortune on my back,
To fiear her burden, whe'r I will or no,
I must have patience to enduie the load:
But if black scandal or foul-fac'd reproach
Attend the sequel of your imposition,
Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me
From all the impure blots and stains thereof ;
For God he knows, and you may partly see,
How far I am from the desire of this, [say it.
May. God bless your grace ! we see it, and will
Glo. In saying so, you shall but say the truth.
Buck. Then I salute you with this royal
title,
Long live King Richard, England's worthy king!
All. Amen. [crown'd?
Buck. To-morrow may it please you to be
Glo. Even when you please, for you will have
it so.
Buck. To-morrow, then, we will attend your
grace :
And so, most joyfully, we take our leave.
Glo. Come, let us to our holy work again.
\To the Bishops,
Farewell, my cousin ; farewell, gentle friends,
[Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. LONDON. Be/ore the Tower.
Enter ; on one side, QUEEN ELIZABETH, DUCH-
ESS OF YORK, and MARQUIS OF DORSET ; on
the other, ANNE DUCHESS OF GLOSTER,
leading LADY MARGARET PLANTAGENET,
CLARENCE'S young Daughter.
Duch. Who meets us here? my niece Plai>
tagenet
Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloster?
Now, fof my life, she's wandering to the Tower,
On pure heart's love, to greet the tendei
princes.
Daughter, well met.
Anne. God give your graces both
A happy and a joyful time of day ! [away?
Q. Eliz. As much to you, good sister! Whither
Anne. No further than the Tower ; and, as I
guess,
Upon the like devotion as yourselves,
To gratulate the gentle princes there.
Q. Eliz. Kind sister, thanks: we'll enter all
together :
And, in good time, here the lieutenant comes,
Enter BRAKENBURY.
Master lieutenant, pray you, by your leave,
How doth the prince, and my young son of York?
Brak. Right well, dear madam. By your
patience.
KING RICHARD III.
[ACT iv.
I may not suffer you to visit them j
The king has strictly charg'd the contrary.
Q. Eliz. The king ! who 's ihat ?
Brak. I mean the lord protector.
Q. Eliz. The lord protect him from that
kingly title !
Hath he set bounds between their love and me ?
I am their mother ; who shall bar me from them ?
Duck. I am their father's mother ; I will see
them. [mother :
Anne. Their aunt I am in law, in love their
Then bring me to their sights ; I '11 bear thy
blame,
And take thy office from thee, on my peril.
Brak. No, madam, no, I may not leave it so:
I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me.
{Exit.
Enter STANLEY.
Stan. Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour
hence,
And I '11 salute your grace of York as mother
And reverend looker-on of two fair queens.
Come, madam, you must straight to West-
minster,
\To the DUCHESS OF GLOSTER.
There to be crowned Richard's royal queen.
Q. Eliz. Ah, cut my lace asunder, [beat,
That my pent heart may have some scope to
Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news !
Anne. Despiteful tidings! Ounpleasingnews!
Dor. Be of good cheer : mother, how fares
your grace? [gone !
Q. Eliz. O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee
Death and destruction dog thee at the heels ;
Thy mother's name is ominous to children.
If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas,
And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell :
Go, hie thee, hie thee from this slaughter-house,
Lest thou increase the number of the dead ;
And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse,
Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen.
Stan. Full of wise care is this your counsel,
madam.
Take all the swift advantage of the hours ;
You shall have letters from me to my son
In your behalf, to meet you on the way :
Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay.
Duck. O ill-dispersing wind of misery !
O my accursed womb, the bed of death !
A cockatrice hast thou hatch'd to the world,
Whose unavoided eye is murderous. [sent.
Stan. Come, madam, come ; I in all haste was
Anne. And I with all unwillingness will go.
O, would to God that the inclusive verge
Of golden metal that must round my brow
Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain !
Anointed let me be with deadly venom,
And die ere men can say God save the Queen I
Q. Eliz. Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy
glory ;
To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm.
Anne. No, why ? When he that is my hus-
band now
Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse ;
When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his
hands
Which issu'd from my other angel husband,
And that dead saint which then I weeping
follow'd ;
O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face,
This was my wish, Be thou, quoth I, occurs 'd
For making me, so young, so old a widow!
And when thou wedifst, let sorrow haunt thy
bed;
And be thy wife, if any be so mad,
More miserable by the life of thee \death !
Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's
Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,
Within so small a time, my woman's heart
Grossly grew captive to his honey words,
And prov'd the subject of mine own soul's
curse,
Which hitherto hath held mine eyes from rest ;
For never yet one hour in his bed
Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep,
But with his timorous dreams was still awak'd
Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick ;
And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.
Q. Eliz. Poor heart, adieu ! I pity thy com-
plaining.
Anne. No more than with rny soul I mourn
for yours. [glory .
Q. Eliz. Farewell, thou woeful welcomer of
Anne. Adieu, poor soul, that tak'st thy leave
of it !
Duck. Go thou to Richmond, and good for-
tune guide thee ! \To DORSET.
Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend
thee! [To ANNE.
Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess
thee ! [To QUEEN ELIZABETH.
I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me !
Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen,
And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen.
Q. Eliz. Stay yet, look back with me unto
the Tower.
Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes,
Whom envy hath immur'd within your walls !
Rough cradle for such little pretty ones !
Rude ragged nurse, old sullen playfellow
For tender princes, use my babies well !
So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell.
\Exeunt
SCENE II.]
KING RICHARD III.
701
SCENE II. LONDON. A Room of State in the
Palace.
Flourish of trumpets. RICHARD, as King, upon
his throne ; BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY, a Page,
and others.
K. Rich. Stand all apart. Cousin of Buck-
ingham,
Buck. My gracious sovereign ?
K. Rich. Give me thy hand. Thus high, by
thy advice
And thy assistance, is King Richard seated :
But shall we wear these glories for a day ?
Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them ?
Buck. Still live they, and for ever let them
last !
K. Rich. Ah, Buckingham, now do I play the
touch,
To try if thou be current gold indeed :
Young Edward lives ; think now what I would
speak.
Buck. Say on, my loving lord.
K. Rich. Why, Buckingham, I say, I would
be king. [liege.
Buck. Why, so you are, my thrice-renowned
K. Rich. Ha ! am I king? 'tis so : but Ed-
ward lives.
Buck. True, noble prince.
K. Rich. O bitter consequence,
That Edward still should live, true, noble
prince !
Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull :
Shall I be plain ? I wish the bastards dead ;
And I would have it suddenly perform'd.
What say'st thou now? speak suddenly, be brief.
Buck. Your grace may do your pleasure.
K. Rich. Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kind-
ness freezes :
Say, have I thy consent that they shall die ?
Buck. Give me some little breath, some pause,
dear lord,
Before I positively speak in this :
I will resolve your grace immediately. [Exit.
Cate. The king is angry : see, he gnaws his
lip. [Aside.
K. Rich. I will converse with iron-witted
fools [Descends from his throne.
And un respective boys ; none are for me
That look into m^ with considerate eyes :
High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.
Boy !
Page. f My lord?
K. Rich. Know'st thou not any whom corrupt-
ing gold
Would tempt into a close exploit of death ?
Page. I know a discontented gentleman,
Whose humble means match not his haughty
spirit :
Gold were as good as twenty orators,
And will, no doubt, tempt him to anything.
K. Rich. What is his name ?
Page. His name, my lord, is Tyrrel.
K. Rich. I partly know the man: go, call
him hither, boy. [Exit Page.
The deep-revolving witty Buckingham
No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels :
H?th he so long held out with me untir'd,
And stops he now for breath? well, be it so.
Enter STANLEY.
How now, Lord Stanley! what's the news?
Stan. Know, my loving lord,
The Marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled
To Richmond, in the parts where he abides.
K. Rich. Come hither, Catesby: rumour it
abroad
That Anne, my wife, is very grievous sick ;
I will take order for her keeping close :
Inquire me out some mean poor gentleman
Whom I will marry straight to Clarence*
daughter ;
The bo> is foolish, and I fear not him.
Look, how thou dream'st! I say again, give out
That Anne my queen is sick, and like to die :
About it ; for it stands me much upon,
To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me.
[Exit CATESBY.
I must be married to my brother's daughter,
Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass :
Murder her brothers, and then marry her !
Uncertain way of gain ! But I am in
So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin :
Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.
Re-enter Page, with TYRREL.
Is thy name Tyrrel? [subject.
Ty. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient
K. Rich. Art thou, indeed?
Tyr. Prove me, my gracious lord.
K. Rich. Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend
of mine? [enemies.
Tyr. Please you. But I had rather kill two
K. Rich. Why, then, thou hast it : two deep
enemies,
Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers,
Are they that I would have thee deal upon :
Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower.
Tyr. Let me have open means to come tc
them,
And soon I '11 rid you from the fear of them.
K. Rich. Thou sing's! sweet music. Hark
come hither, Tyrrel:
702
KING RICHARD III.
[ACT iv.
Go, by this token : rise, and lend thine ear:
{Whispers.
There is no more but so : say it is done,
And I will love thee, and prefer thee for it.
Tyr. I will despatch it straight. {Exit.
Re-enter BUCKINGHAM.
Buck. My lord, I have consider'd in my mind
The late demand that you did sound me in.
K. Rich. Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled
to Richmond.
Buck. I hear the news, my lord.
K. Rich. Stanley, he is your wife's son:
well, look to it. [promise,
Buck. My lord, I claim the gift, my due by
For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd;
The earldom of Hereford, and the movables,
Which you have promised I shall possess.
K. Rich. Stanley, look to your wife : if she
convey
Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.
Btick. What says your highness to my just
request? [Sixth
K. Rich. I do remember me, Henry the
Did prophesy that Richmond should be king,
When Richmond was a little peevish boy.
A king ! perhaps,
Buck. My lord,
K. Rich. How chance the prophet could not at
that time
Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him?
Buck. My lord, your promise for the earl-
dom, [Exeter,
K. Rich. Richmond ! When last I was at
The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle,
And call'd it Rouge-mont: at which name I
started,
Because a bard of Ireland told me once
I should not live long after I saw Richmond.
Buck. My lord,
K. Rich. Ay, what's o'clock? [mind
Buck. I am thus bold to put your grace in
Of what you promis'd me.
K. Rich. Well, but what 's o'clock?
Buck. Upon the stroke of ten.
K. Rich. Well, let it strike.
Buck. Why let it strike?
K. Rich. Because that, like a Jack, thou
keep'st the stroke
Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.
I am not in the giving vein to-day. [or no.
Buck. Why, then resolve me whether you will
JK. Rich. Thou troublest me ; I am not in the
vein. {Exeunt K. RICH, and Train.
Butk. And is it thus? repays he my deep
service
With such contempt? made I him king for this?
O, let me think on Hastings, and be gone
To Brecknock while my fearful head is on !
{Exit.
SCENE III. LONDON. Another Room in th&
Palace.
Enter TYRREL.
Tyr. The tyrannous and bloody act is done,
The most arch deed of piteous mssacre
That ever yet this land was guilty of.
Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn
To do this piece of ruthless butchery,
Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs,
Melting with tenderness and mild compassion,
Wept like two children in their death's sad
story.
O thus, quoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes,
Thus, thus, quoth Forrest, girdling one another
Within their alabaster innocent arms:
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,
Which in their summer beauty his s*d each other.
A book of prayers on their pillow lay ;
Which once, quoth Forrest, almost chang'd my
mind;
Biit, 0, the devil, there the villain stopp'd ;
When Dighton thus told on, we smothered
The most replenished sweet work of nature
That from the prime creation Jer she frairfd.
Hence both are gone ; with conscience and re-
morse
They could not speak ; and so I left them both,
To bear this tidings to the bloody king:
And here he comes :
Enter KING RICHARD.
All health, my sovereign lord !
K. Rich. Kind Tyrrel, am I happy in thy
news? [charge
Tyr. If to have done the thing you gave in
Beget your happiness, be happy then,
For it is done.
K. Rich. But didst thou see them dead?
Tyr. I did, my lord.
K. Rich. And buried, gentle Tyrrel?
Tyr. The chaplain of the Tower hath buried
them;
But where, to say the truth, I do not know.
K. Rich. Come to me, Tyrrel, soon, at after
supper,
When thou shalt tell the process of their death.
Meantime, but think how I may do thee good,
And be inheritor of thy desire.
Farewell till then.
Tyr. I humbly take my leave. {Exit.
K'. Rich. The son of Clarence have I pent up
close :
SCENE IV.]
KING RICHARD III.
703
His daughter meanly have I match'd in mar-
riage ;
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom,
And Anne my wife hath bid the world good-
night.
Now, for I know the Bretagne Richmond aims
At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter,
And by that knot looks proudly on the crown,
To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer.
Enter RATCLIFF.
Rat. My lord,
K. Rich. Good news or bad, that thou com'st
in so bluntly? [Richmond;
Rat. Bad news, my lord : Morton is fled to
And Buckingham, back'dwith the hardy Welsh-
men,
Is in the field, and still his power increaseth.
K. Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me
more near
Than Buckingham and his rash-levied strength.
Come, I have learn'd that fearful commenting
Is leaden servitor to dull delay;
Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary:
Then fiery expedition be my wing,
Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king !
Go, muster men : my counsel is my shield ;
We must be brief when traitors brave the field.
[Exetmt.
SCENE IV. LONDON. Before the Palace.
Enter QUEEN MARGARET.
Q. Mar. So, now pi'osperity begins to mellow,
And drop into the rotten mouth of death.
Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd,
To watch the waning of mine enemies.
A dire induction am I witness to,
And will to France ; hoping the consequence
Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical.
Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret : who comes
here? [Retires.
Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and the DUCHESS
OF YORK.
Q. Eliz. Ah, my poor princes ! ah, my tender
babes !
My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets !
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air,
And be not fix'd in doom perpetual,
Hover about me with your airy wings,
And hear your mother's lamentation ! [right
Q. Mar. Hover about her ; say, that right for
Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night.
Duck. So many miseries have craz ; d my voice
That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?
Q. Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet,
Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.
Q. Eliz. Wilt thou, O God, fly from such
gentle lambs,
And throw them in the entrails of the wolf?
When didst thou sleep when such a deed was
done? [sweet son.
Q. Mar. When holy Harry died, and my
Duch. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal-
living ghost, [usurp'd,
Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life
Brief abstract and record of tedious days,
Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth,
[Sitting down.
Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood !
Q. Eliz. Ah, that thou wouldst as soon afford
a grave
As thou canst yield a melancholy seat ! [here.
Then would I hide my bones, not rest them
Ah, who hath any cause to mourn but we?
[Sitting down by her.
Q. Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reverent,
Give mine the benefit of seniory,
[ Coming forward.
And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.
If sorrow can admit society,
[Sitting down with them.
Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine :
I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him ;
I had a Henry, till a Richard kill'd him:
Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd
him;
Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him.
Duch. I had a Richard too, and thou didst
kill him;
I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him.
Q. Mar. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and
Richard kill'd him.
From forth *;he kennel of thy womb hath crept
A hell-hound that doth hunt us all to death :
That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes,
To worry lambs and lap their gentle blood ;
That foul defacer of God's handiwork ;
That excellent grand tyrant of the earth,
That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls,
Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our
graves.
O upright, just, and true-disposing God,
How do I thank thee that this carnal cur
Preys on the issue of his mother's body,
And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan !
Duch. O Harry's wife, triumph not in my
woes!
God witness with me, I have wept for thine.
Q. Mar. Bear with me ; I am hungry for re-
venge,
And now I doy me with beholding it.
704
KING RICHARD III.
[ACT iv.
Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward ;
Thy other Edward dead to quit my Edward ;
Young York he is but boot, because both they
Match not the high perfection of my loss :
Thy Clarence he is dead that stabb'd my Ed-
ward;
And the beholders of this frantic play,
The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,
Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves.
Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer ;
Only reserv'd their factor to buy souls,
And send them thither: but at hand, at hand,
Ensues his piteous and unpitied end :
Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray,
To have him suddenly convey'd from hence.
Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray,
That I may live to say, The dog is dead !
Q. Eliz. O, thou didst prophesy the time
would come
That I should wish for thee to help me curse
That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd
toad ! [my fortune ;
Q. Mar. I call'd thee then, vain flourish of
I call'd thee then, poor shadow, painted queen ;
The presentation of but what I was,
The flattering index of a direful pageant ;
One heav'd a-high, to be hurl'd down below ;
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes ;
A dream of what thou wast ; a garish flag,
To be the aim of every dangerous shot ;
A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble;
A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.
Where is thy husband now? where be thy
brothers?
Where be thy two sons? wherein dost thou joy?
Who sues, and kneels, and says, God save the
queen ?
Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee?
Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee?
Decline all this, and see what now thou art:
For happy wife, a most digressed widow ;
For joyful mother, one that wails the name ;
For one being su'd to, one that humbly sues ;
For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care ;
For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me;
For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one ;
For one commanding all, obey'd of none.
Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about,
And left thee but a very prey to time ;
Having no more but thought of what thou wast,
To torture thee the more, being what thou art.
Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not
Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow?
Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd
yoke;
From which even here I slip my wearied head,
And leave the burden of it all on thee.
Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mis-
chance : [France.
These English woes shall make me smile in
Q. Eliz. O thou well skill'd in curses, stay
awhile,
And teach me how to curse mine enemies !
Q. Mar. Forbear to sleep the night, and fast
the day ;
Compare dead happiness with living woe ;
Think that thy babes were fairer than they were,
And he that slew them fouler than he is :
Bettering thy loss makes the bad-causer worse ;
Revolving this will, teach thee how to curse.
Q. Eliz. My words are dull ; O, quicken
them with thine !
Q. Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp,
and pierce like mine. \_Exit.
Duch. Why should calamity be full of words?
Q. Eliz. Windy attorneys to their client woes,
Airy succeeders of intestate joys,
Poor breathing orators of miseries ! [part
Let them have scope : though what they do im-
Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart.
Duch. If so, then be not tongue-tied: go with
me,
And in the breath of bitter words let 's smother
My damned son, that thy two sweet sons
smother'd. [Drum within.
I hear his drum : be copious in exclaims.
Enter KING RICHARD and his Train, marching.
K. Rich. Who intercepts me in my expedi-
tion? [thee,
Duch. O, she that might have intercepted
By strangling thee in her accursed womb,
From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast
done!
Q. Eliz. Hidst thou that forehead with a
golden crown, [right,
Where should be branded, if that right were
The slaughter of the prince that ow'd that crown,
And the dire death of my poor sons and brothers?
Tell me thou villain-slave, where are my chil-
dren?
Duch. Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy
brother Clarence?
And little Ned Plantagenet, his son? [Grey?
Q. Eliz. Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan,
Duch. Where is kind Hastings ?
K. Rich. A flourish, trumpets! strike alarum,
drums !
Let not the heavens hear these iell-tale women
Rail on the Lord's anointed : strike, I say !
[Flourish. Alarums.
Either be patient, and entreat me fair,
Or with the clamorous report of war
Thus will I drown your exclamations.
SCENE IV.]
KING RICHARD III.
705
Duck. Art thou my son ? At \s&
K. Rich. Ay, I thank God, my father, and
yourself.
Duck. Then patiently hear my impatience.
K. Rich. Madam, I have a touch of your
condition,
That cannot brook the accent of reproof.
Duch. O, let me speak !
K. Rich. Do, then ; but I '11 not hear.
Duch. I will be mild and gentle in my words.
K. Rich. And brief, good mother ; for I am
in haste.
Duch. Art thou so hasty ? I have stay'd for
thee,
God knows, in torment and in agony.
K. Rich. And came I not at last to comfort
you ? [well
Duch. No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it
Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell.
A grievous burden was thy birth to me ;
Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy ;
Thy school -days frightful, desperate, wild, and
furious ; [turous ;
Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and ven-
Thy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, sly, and
bloody, [hatred :
More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in
What comfortable hour canst thou name
That ever grac'd me in thy company ?
K. Rich. Faith, none but Humphrey Hour,
that call'd your grace
To treakfast once forth of my company.
If I be so disgracious in your eye,
Let me march on and not offend you, madam.
Strike up the drum.
Duch. I pr'ythee, hear me speak.
K. Rich. You speak too bitterly.
Duch. Hear me a word ;
For I shall never speak to thee again.
K. Rich. So. [dinance
Duch. Either thou wilt die by God's just or-
Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror ;
Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish,
And never look upon thy face again.
Therefore take with thee my most heavy curse ;
Which in the day of battle tire thee more
Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st !
My prayers on the adverse party fight ;
And there the little souls of Edward's children
Whisper the spirits of thine enemies,
And promise them success and victory.
Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end ;
Shame serves thy life and doth thy death attend.
{Exit.
Q. Eliz. Though far more cause, yet much
less spirit to curse
Abides in me ; I say amen to her. \Going.
K. Rich. Stay, madam, I must talk a word
with you.
Q. Eliz. I have no more sons of the royal
blood
For thee to slaughter: for my daughters,
Richard,
They shall be praying nuns, not
queens;
And therefore level not to hit their lives.
K. Rich. You have a daughter call'd Elizabeth,
Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.
Q. Eliz. And must she die for this? O, let
her live,
And I '11 corrupt her manners, stain her beauty;
Slander myself as false to Edward's bed ;
Throw over her the veil of infamy :
So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter,
I will confess she was not Edward's daughter.
K. Rich. Wrong not her birth; she is of
royal blood.
Q. Eliz. To save her life I '11 say she is not so.
K. Rich. Her life is safest only in her birth.
Q. Eliz. And only in that safety died her
brothers. [opposite.
K. Rich. Lo, at their births good stars were
Q. Eliz. No, to their lives bad friends were
contrary.
K. Rich. All unavoided is the doom of destiny.
Q. Eliz. True, when avoided grace makes
destiny :
My babes were destined to a fairer death
If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life.
K. Rich. You speak as if that I had slain my
cousins. [cozen'd
Q. Eliz. Cousins, indeed ; and by their uncle
Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
Whose hand soever lanc'd their tender hearts,
Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction :
No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt
Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart,
To revel in the entrails of my lambs.
But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame,
My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys
Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes ;
And I, in such a desperate bay of death,
Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft,
Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom.
K. Rich. Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise
And dangerous success of bloody wars,
As I intend more good to you and yours
Than ever you or yours by me were harm'd !
Q. Eliz. What good is cover'd with the face
of heaven,
To be discover d, that can do me good ?
K. Rich. The advancement of your children,
gentle lady. [their heads?
Q. Eliz. Up to some scaffold, there to lose
7 o6
KING RICHARD III.
[ACT iv.
K. Rich. No, to the dignity and height of
honour,
The high imperial type of this earth's glory.
Q. Eliz. Flatter my sorrows with report of it ;
Tell me what state, what dignity, what honour,
Canst thou demise to any child of mine ? [all
K. Rich. Even all I have; ay, and myself and
Will I withal endow a child of thine;
So in the Lethe of thy angry soul [wrongs
Thou drown the sad remembrance of those
Which thou supposest I have done to thee.
Q. Eliz. Be brief, lest that the process of thy
kindness
Last longer telling than thy kindness' date.
K. Rich. Then know, that from my soul I love
thy daughter. [her soul.
Q. Eliz. My daughter's mother thinks it with
K. Rich. What do you think ?
Q. Eliz. That thou dost love my daughter
from thy soul : [brothers ;
So from thy soul's love didst thou love her
And from my heart's love I do thank thee for it.
K. Rich. Be not so hasty to confound my
afiaoqo meaning:
I mean that with my soul I love thy daughter,
And do intend to make her Queen of England.
Q. Eliz. Well, then, who dost thou mean
shall be her king?
K. Rich. Even he that makes her queen :
who else should be?
Q. Eliz. What, thou? [madam?
K. Rich. I, even I: what think you of it,
Q. Eliz. How canst thou woo her ?
K. Rich. That I would learn of you,
As one being best acquainted with her humour.
Q. Eliz. And wilt thou learn of me ?
K. Rich. Madam, with all my heart.
Q. Eliz. Send to her, by the man that slew
her brothers,
A pair of bleeding hearts ; thereon engrave
Edward and York; then haply will she weep:
Therefore present to her, as sometime Margaret
Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood,
A handkerchief ; which, say to her, did drain
The purple sap from her sweet brothers' bodies,
And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal.
If this inducement move her not to love,
Send her a letter of thy noble deeds ;
Tell her thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence,
Her uncle Rivers ; ay, and for her sake
Mad'st quick conveyance with her good aunt
Anne. [the way
K. Rich. You mock me, madam ; this is not
To win your daughter.
Q. Eliz. There is no other way ;
Unless thou couldst put on some other shape,
And not be Richard that hath done all this.
K. Rich. Say that I did all this for love of her?
Q. Eliz. Nay, then indeed she cannot choose
but hate thee,
Having bought love with such a bloody spoil.
K. Rich. Look, what is done cannot be now
amended :
Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes,
Which after-hours give leisure to repent.
If I did take the kingdom from your sons,
To make amends I '11 give it to your daughter.
If I hav kill'd the issue of your womb,
To quicken your increase I will beget
Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter :
A grandam's name is little less in love
Than is the doating title of a mother ;
They are as children but one step below,
Even of your mettle, of your very blood ;
Of all one pain, save for a night of groans
Endur'd of her, for whom you bid like sorrow.
Your children were vexation to your youth ;
But mine shall be a comfort to your age.
The loss you have is but a son being king,
And by that loss your daughter is made queen.
I cannot make you what amends I would,
Therefore accept such kindness as I can.
Dorset your son, that with a fearful soul
Leads discontented steps in foreign soil,
This fair alliance quickly shall call home
To high promotions and great dignity : . [wife,
The king, that calls your beauteous daughter
Familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother ;
Again shall you be mother to a king,
And all the ruins of distressful times
Repair'd with double riches of content.
What ! we have many goodly days to see :
The liquid drops of tears that you have shed
Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl,
Advantaging their loan with interest
Of ten-times-double gain of happiness.
Go, then, my mother, to thy daughter go ;
Make bold her bashful years with your experi-
ence ;
Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale :
Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame
Of golden sovereignty ; acquaint the princess
With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys :
And when this arm of mine hath chastised
The petty rebel, dull-brain'd Buckingham,
Bound with triumphant garlands will I come,
And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed ;
To whom I will retail my conquest won,
And she shall be sole victress, Caesar's Caesar.
Q. Eliz. What were I best to say? her
father's brother
Would be her lord ? or shall I say her uncle ?
Or he that slew her brothers and her uncles ?
Under what title shall I woo for thee, '. aabkf
SCENE IV.]
KING RICHARD III.
707
That God, the law, my honour, and her love
Can make seem pleasing to her tender years ?
K. Rich. Infer fair England's peace by this
alliance.
Q. Eliz. Which she shall purchase with still-
lasting war. [entreats.
K. Rich. Tell her the king,that may command,
. Eliz. That at her hands which the king's
King forbids. [queen.
K. Rich. Say she chall be a high and mighty
Q. Eliz. To wail the title, as her mother doth.
X. Rich. Say I will love her everlastingly.
Q. Eliz. But how long shall that title, ever,
last?
K. Rich. Sweetly in force unto her fair life's
end. [life last ?
Q. Eliz. But how long fairly shall her sweet
K. Rich. As long as heaven and nature
lengthens it. [it.
Q. Eliz. As long as hell and Richard likes of
JC. Rich. Say I, her sovereign, am her subject
low. [sovereignty.
Q. Eliz. But she, your subject, loathes such
JC. Rich. Be eloquent in my behalf to her.
Q. Eliz. An honest tale speeds best being
plainly told. [tale.
K. Rich. Then, plainly to her tell my loving
Q. Eliz. Plain and not honest is too harsh a
style.
K. Rich. Your reasons are too shallow and
too quick. [dead ;
Q. Eliz. O, no, my reasons are too deep and
Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves.
K. Rich. Harp not on that string, madam ;
that is past.
Q. Eliz. Harp on it still shall I till heart-
strings break.
K. Rich. Now, by my George, my garter,
and my crown, [usurp'd.
Q. Eliz. Profan'd, dishonour'd, and the third
K. Rich. I swear,
Q. Eliz. By nothing ; for this is no oath :
Thy George, profan'd hath lost his holy honour ;
Thy garter, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly
virtue ;
Thy crown, usurp'd, disgrac'd his kingly glory.
If something thou wouldst swear to be believ'd,
Swear, then, by something that thou hast not
wrong' d.
K. Rich. Now, by the world,
Q. Eliz. 'Tis full of thy foul wrongs.
K. Rich. My father's death,
Q. Eliz. Thy life hath that dishonour'd.
K. Rich. Then, by myself,
Q. Eliz. Thyself is self-misus'd.
K. Rich. Why, then, by God,
Q. Eliz. God's wrong is most of all.
If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him,
The unity the king thy brother made
Had not been broken, nor my brother slain :
If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him,
The imperial metal, circling now thy head,
Plad grac'd the tender temples of my child ;
And both the princes had been breathing here,
Which now, two tender bedfellows for dust,
Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms.
What canst thou swear by now?
K. Rich. The time to come.
Q. Eliz. That thou hast wrongM in the time
o'erpast ;
For I myself have many tears to wash
Hereafter time, for time past wronged by thee.
The children live whose parents thou hast
slaughtered,
Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age ;
The parents live whose children thou hast
butcherM,
Old barren plants, to wail it with their age.
Swear not by time to come ; for that thou hast
Misus'd ere used, by times ill-us'd o'erpast.
K. Rich. As I intend to prosper and repent !
So thrive I in my dangerous attempt
Of hostile arms ! myself myself confound !
Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours !
Day, yield me not thy light ; nor, night, thy rest !
Be opposite all planets of good luck
To my proceeding ! if, with pure heart's love,
Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts,
I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter !
In her consists my happiness and thine ;
Without her, follows to myself and thee,
Herself, the land, and many a Christian soul,
Death, desolation, ruin, and decay :
It cannot be avoided but by this ;
It will not be avoided but by this.
Therefore, dear mother, I must call you so,
Be the attorney of my love to her :
Plead what I will be, not what I have been ;
Not my deserts, but what I will deserve :
Urge the necessity and state of times,
And be not peevish found in great designs.
Q. Eliz. Shall I be tempted of the devil thus?
K. Rich. Ay, if the devil tempt you to do
good.
Q. Eliz. Shall I forget myself to be myself?
K. Rich. Ay, if your selfs remembrance
wrong yourself.
Q. Eliz. But thou didst kill my children.
K. Rich. But in your daughter's womb I
bury them :
Where, in that nest of spicery, they shall breed
Selves of themselves, to your recomforture.
Q. Eliz. Shall I go win my daughter to thy
"
7 o8
KING RICHARD III.
[ACT iv.
K. Rich. And be a happy mother by the deed.
Q. Eliz. I go. Write to me very shortly,
And you shall understand from me her mind.
K. Rich. Bear her my true love's kiss ; and so,
farewell.
[Kissing her. Exit Q. ELIZ.
Relenting fool, and shallow changing woman !
Enter RATCLIFF ; CAHLKSW following.
How now ! what news?
Rat. Most mighty sovereign, on the western
coast ..,- jguii i/od
Rideth a puissant navy ; to the shore
Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends,
Unarm'd, and unresolv'd to beat them back :
'Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral ;
And there they hull, expecting but the aid
Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore.
K. Rich. Some light-foot friend post to the
Duke of Norfolk r-r-^rfon
Ratcliff, thyself, or Catesby ; where is he ?
Gate. Here, my good lord.
K. Rich. Catesby, fly to the duke.
Cate. I will, my lord, with all convenient
haste.
K. Rich. Ratcliff, come hither : post to
Salisbury :
When thou com'st thither, Dull, unmindful
villain, [To CATESBY.
Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the duke ?
Cate. First, mighty liege, tell me your high-
ness' pleasure,
What from your grace I shall deliver to him.
K. Rich. O, true, good Catesby: bid him
levy straight
The greatest strength and power he can make,
And meet me suddenly at Salisbury.
Cate. I go. [Exit.
Rat. What, may it please you, shall I do at
Salisbury ?
K. Rich. Why, what wouldst thou do there
before I go?
Rat. Your highness told me I should post
before.
Enter STANLEY.
ob of 1
K. Rich. My mind is chang'd. Stanley,
what news with you ?
Stan. None good, my liege, to please you with
the hearing ;
Nor none so bad but well may be reported.
K. Rich. Hoyday, a riddle ! neither good nor
bad!
What need'st thou run so many miles about,
When thou mayst tell thy tale the nearest way?
Once more, what news ?
Stan. Richmond is on the seas.
K. Rich. There let him sink, and be the
seas on him !
White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there ?
Stan. I know not, mighty sovereign, but by
guess.
K. Rich. Well, as you guess ?
Stan. Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham,
and Morton,
He makes for England here, to claim the crown.
K. Rich. Is the chair empty? is the sword
unsvvay'd ?
Is the king dead ? the empire unpossess'd ?
What heir of York is there alive but we ?
And who is England's king but great York's heir?
Then, tell me, what makes he upon the seas ?
Stan. Unless for that, my liege, I cannot
guess.
K. Rich. Unless for that he comes to be your
liege, [comes.
You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman
Thou wilt revolt, and fly to him, I fear.
Stan. No, mighty liege; therefore mistrust
me not.
K. Rich. Where is thy power, then, to beat
him back ?
Where be thy tenants and thy followers ?
Are they not now upon the western shore,
Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships?
Stan. No, my good lord, my friends are in
the north, snoafie
K. Rich. Cold friends to me : what do they
in the north, [west?
When they should serve their sovereign in the
Stan. They have not been commanded,
mighty king :
Pleaseth your majesty to give me leave,
I '11 muster up my friends, and meet your grace
Where and what time your majesty shall please.
K. Rich. Ay, ay, thou wouldst be gone to
join with Richmond ;
But I '11 not trust thee. -^,fJK
Stan. Most mighty sovereign,
You have no cause to hold my friendship
doubtful :
I never was nor never will be false.
K. Rich. Go, then, and muster men. But
leave behind [be firm,
Your son, George Stanley: look your heart
Or else his head's assurance is but frail.
Stan. So deal with him as I prove true to you.
[Exit.
; , Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My gracious sovereign, now in Devon-
shire,
As I by friends am well advertised,
Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty prelate,
SCENE IV.]
KING RICHARD III.
709
Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother,
With many more confederates, are in arms.
Enter a second Messenger.
2 Mess. In Kent, my liege, the Guilfords
are in arms ;
And every hour more competitors [strong.
Flock to the rebels, and their power grows
Enter a third Messenger.
3 Mess. My lord, the army of great Bucking-
ham,
K. Rich. Out on ye, owls ! nothing but songs
of death ? [He strikes him.
There, take thou that till thou bring better news.
3 Mess. The news I have to tell your majesty
Is, that by sudden floods and fall of waters,
Buckingham's army is dispers'd and scatter'd :
And he himself wander'd away alone,
No man knows whither.
K. Rich. I cry you mercy :
There is my purse to cure that blow of thine.
Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd
Reward to him that brings the traitor in ?
3 Mess. Such proclamation hath been made,
my liege.
"vit^ uKlon ,5m.yJ I JnoJ sri'i ffliw qLJ
Enter a fourth Messenger.
4 Mess. Sir Thomas Lovel and Lord Marquis
Dorset,
'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms.
But this good comfort bring I to your high-
ness,^' , ,
The Bretagne navy is dispers'd by tempest :
Richmond, in Dorsetshire, sent out a boat
Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks
If they were his assistants, yea or no ;
Who answer'd him they came from Buckingham
Upon his party: he, mistrusting them,
Hois'd sail, and made his course again for Bre-
tagne. [in arms ;
K. Rich. March on, march on, since we are up
If not to fight with foreign enemies,
Yet to beat down these rebels here at home.
^-^rCATESBY-
Cote. My liege, the Duke of Buckingham is
taken, [mond
That is the best news: that the Earl of Rich-
Is with a mighty power landed at Milford
Is colder news, but yet they must be told.
K. Rich. Away towards Salisbury ! while we
reason here
A royal battle might be won and lost :
Some one take order Buckingham be brought
To Salisbury; the rest march on with me.
[Flourish. Exeunt.
SCENE V.- A Room in LORD STANLEY'S
House.
Enter STANLEY and SIR CHRISTOPHER
URSWICK.
Stan. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this
from me:
That in the sty of the most deadly boar
My son George Stanley is frank'd up in hold :
If I revolt, off goes young George's head ;
The fear of that holds off my present aid.
So, get thee gone : commend me to thy lord ;
Withal say that the queen hath heartily con-
sented b n & ^
He should espouse Elizabeth her daughter.
But tell me, where is princely Richmond now?
Chris. At Pembroke, or at Ha'rford-west, in
Wales.
Stan, What men of name resort to him?
Chris. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier;
Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley;
Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt,
And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew ;
And many other of great name and worth :
And towards London do they bend their power,
If by the way they be not fought withal, [hand ;
Stan. Well, hie thee to thy lord ; I kiss his
These letters will resolve him of my mind.
Farewell. [Gives papers to SIR CHRIS.
,IBOC j2n: ' sriT
ACTV.
SCENE I. SALISBURY. An open place.
Enter the Sheriff and Guard, with BUCKING-
HAM, led to execution.
Buck. Will not King Richard let me speak
with him ?
Sher. No, my good lord ; therefore be patient.
Buck. Hastings, and Edward's children, Grey,
and Rivers,
Holy King Henry, and thy fair son Edward,
Vaughan, and all that have miscarried
By underhand corrupted foul injustice,-^45rr
If that your moody discontented souls
Do through the clouds behold this present hour,
Even for revenge mock my destruction !
This is All-Souls' day, fellows, is it not?
Sher. It is, my lord.
Buck. Why, then, All-Souls' day is my body's
doomsday.
This is the day which in King Edward's time
I wish'd might fall on me, when I was found
False to his children or his wife's allies ;
This is the day wherein I wish'd to fall
7 io
KING RICHARD III.
[ACT v.
By the false faith of him whom most I trusted ;
This, this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul
Is the determin'd respite of my wrongs :
That high All- Seer which I dallied with
Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head,
And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest.
Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men
To turn their own points on their masters'
bosoms :
Thus Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck,
When he, quoth she, shall split thy heart with
sorrow,
Remember Margaret was a prophetess.
Come, sirs, convey me to the block of shame ;
Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of
blame. [Exeunt.
Enter, with drum and colours, RICHMOND, OX-
FORD, SIR JAMES BLUNT, SIR WALTER
HERBERT, and others, with Forces, march-
ins ' '.'', .V:^.:' i^w ILraori'
Richm. Fellows in arms, and my most loving
friends,
Bruis'd underneath the yoke of tyranny,
Thus far into the bowels of the land
Have we march'd on without impediment ;
And here receive we from our father Stanley
Lines of fair comfort and encouragement.
The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar,
That spoil' d your summer fields and fruitful
vines,
Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his
trough
In your embowell'd bosoms, this foul swine
Lies now even in the centre of this isle,
Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn :
From Tarn worth thither is but one day's march.
In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends,
To reap the harvest of perpetual peace
By this one bloody trial of sharp war.
Oxf. Every man's conscience is a thousand
swords,
To fight against that bloody homicide.
Herb. I doubt not but his friends will turn to
us.
Bhmt. He hath no friends but what are friends
for fear,
Which in his dearest need will fly from him.
Richm. All for our vantage. Then, in God's
name, march:
True hope is swift, and flies with swallows*
wings;
Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures
kings. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. Bosworth
Field.
Enter KING RICHARD and Forces; the DUKE
OF NORFOLK, EARL OF SURREY, and others.
K. Rich. Here pitch our tents, even here in
Bosworth field.
My Lord of Surrey, why look you so sad ?
Sur. My heart is ten times lighter than my
looks.
K. Rich. My Lord of Norfolk,
Nor. Here, most gracious liege.
K. Rich. Norfolk, we must have knocks ; ha!
must we not ? [lord.
Nor. We must both give and take, my loving
K. Rich. Up with my tent ! Here will I lie
to-night ;
[Soldiers begin to set up the KING'S tent.
But where to-morrow? Well, all's one for
that.
Who hath described the number of the traitors ?
Nor. Six or seven thousand is their utmost
power. [count :
K. Rich. Why, our battalia trebles that ac-
Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength,
Which they upon the adverse faction want.
Up with the tent ! Come, noble gentlemen,
Let us survey the vantage of the ground;
Call for some men of sound direction :
Let's lack no discipline, make no delay;
For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day. [Exeunt.
Enter, on the other side of the Field, RICH-
MOND, SIR WILLIAM BRANDON, OXFORD,
and other Lords. Some of the Soldiers pitch
RICHMOND'S tent.
Richm. The weary sun hath made a golden
set,
And by the bright track of his fiery car
Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow.
Sir William Brandon, you shall beat my stan-
dard.
Give me some ink and paper in my tent :
I '11 draw the form and model of our battle,
Limit each leader to his several charge,
And part in just proportion our small power.
My Lord of Oxford, you, Sir William Bran-
don,
And you, Sir Walter Herbert, stay with me.
The Earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment :
Good Captain Blunt, bear my good-night to him,
And by the second hour in the morning
Desire the earl to see me in my tent :
Yet one thing more, good captain, do for me,
Where is Lord Stanley quarter'd, do you know ?
Blunt. Unless I have mista'en his colours
much,
SCENE HI.]
KING RICHARD III.
711
Which well I am assur'd I have not done,
His regiment lies half a mile at least
South from the mighty power of the king.
Richm. If without peril it be possible,
Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak
with him,
And give him from me this most needful note.
Blunt. Upon my life, my lord, I '11 under-
take it ;
And so, God give you quiet rest to-night !
Richm. Good-night, good Captain Blunt.
Come, gentlemen,
Let us consult upon to-morrow's business:
In to my tent ; the air is raw and cold.
[They withdraw into the tent.
Enter, to his tent, KING RICHARD, NORFOLK,
RATCLIFF, a/CATESBY.
K. Rick. What is 't o'clock?
Cote. It 's supper-time, my lord ;
It's six o'clock.
K. Rich. I will not sup to-night.
Give me some ink and paper.
What, is my beaver easier than it was?
And all my armour laid into my tent?
Gate. It is, my liege ; and all things are in
readiness.
K. Rich. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy
charge ;
Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels.
Nor. I go, my lord.
K. Rich. Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle
Norfolk.
Nor. I warrant you, my lord. [Exit.
K. Rich. Ratcliff,
Rat. My lord?
K. Rich. Send out a pursuivant-at-arms
To Stanley's regiment ; bid him bring his power
Before sunrising, lest his son George fall
Into the blind cave of eternal night.
Fill me a bowl of wine. Give me a watch.
Saddle white Surrey to the field to-morrow.
Look that my staves be sound, and not too
heavy.
Ratcliff,
Rat. My lord?
K. Rich. Saw'st thou the melancholy Lord
Northumberland?
Rat. Thomas the Earl of Surrey and himself,
Much about cock-shut time, from troop to troop
Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers.
K. Rich. So, I am satisfied. Give me a bowl
of wine:
I have not that alacrity of spirit
Nor cheer of mind that I was wont to nave.
Set it down. Is ink and paper ready?
Rat. It is, my lord.
K. Rich. Bid my guard watch ; leave me.
Ratcliff, about the mid of night come to my tent
And help to arm me. Leave me, I say.
[K. RICH, retires into his tent. Exeunt
RATCLIFF and CATESBY.
RICHMOND'S tent opens, and discovers him and
his Officers, &c.
' >'
Enter STANLEY.
Stan. Fortune and victory sit on thy helm !
Richm. All comfort that the dark night can
afford
Be to thy person, noble father-in-law !
Tell me, how fares our loving mother?
Stan. I, by attorney, bless thee from thy
mother,
Who prays continually for Richmond's good :
So much for that. The silent hours steal on,
And flaky darkness breaks within the east.
In brief, for so the season bids us be, ".'-."
Prepare thy battle early in the morning,
And put thy fortune to the arbitrement
Of bloody strokes and mortal-staring war.
I, as I may, that which I would I cannot,
With best advantage will deceive the time,
And aid thee in this doubtful stroke of arms:
But on thy side I may not be too forward,
Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George,
Be executed in his father's sight.
Farewell : the leisure and the fearful time
Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love
And ample interchange of sweet discourse,
Which so-long-sunderM friends should dwell
upon:
God give us leisure for these rites of love !
Once more, adieu : be valiant, and speed well I
Richm. Good lords, conduct him to his regi-
ment:
I'll strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a
nap,
Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow,
When I should mount with wings of victory :
Once more, good -night, kind lords and gentle-
men.
[Exeunt Lords, 6v., with STAN.
O Thou whose captain I account myself,
Look on my forces with a gracious eye ;
Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath,
That they may crush down with a heavy fall
The usurping helmets of our adversaries 1
Make us thy ministers of chastisement,
That we may praise thee in thy victory !
To thee I do commend my watchful soul
Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes:
Sleeping and waking, O, defend me still !
[Sleeps.
712
KING RICHARD III.
[ACT v.
The Ghost of PRINCE EDWARD, son to HENRY
THE SIXTH, rises between the two tents.
Ghost. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-
morrow! [To KING RICHARD.
Think how thou stabb'dst me in my prime of
youth , Y&&
At Tewksbury : despair, therefore, and die !
Be cheerful, Richmond ; for the wronged souls
Of butcher'd princes fight in thy behalf:
King Henry's issue, Richmond, comforts thee.
The Ghost of KING HENRY THE SIXTH rises.
Ghost. When I was mortal, my anointed body
[To KING RICHARD.
By thee was punched full of deadly holes :
Think on the Tower and me: despair, and die,
Harry the Sixth bids thee despair and die !
Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror !
[To RICHMOND.
Harry, that prophesied thou shouldst be king,
Doth comfort thee in sleep : live, and nourish !
The Ghost 0/ CLARENCE rises.
Ghost. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow !
[To KING RICHARD.
I, that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine,
Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death !
To-morrow in the battle think on me,
And fall thy edgeless sword : despair, and die!
Thou offspring of the house of Lancaster,
[To RICHMOND.
The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee :
Good angels guard thy battle! live, and flourish !
The Ghosts of RIVERS, GREY, and VAUGHAN
rise.
G. of K. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-
morrow, [To KING RICHARD.
Rivers, that died at Pomfret ! despair, and die !
G. of G. Think upon Grey, and let thy soul
despair ! [ To KING RICHARD.
G. of V. Think upon Vaughan, and, with
guilty fear,
Let fall thy lance : despair, and die !
[To KING RICHARD.
All Three. Awake, and think our wrongs in
Richard's bosom [ To RICHMOND.
Will conquer him ! awake, and win the day !
The Ghost T/" HASTINGS rises.
Ghost. Bloody and guilty, guiltily awake,
[To KING RICHARD.
And in a bloody battle end thy days !
Think on Lord Hastings: despair, and die!
Quiet untroubled soul, awake, awake !
[To RICHMOND.
Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England's sake!
The Ghosts of the two young Princes rise.
Ghosts. Dream on thy cousins smother'd in
the Tower :
Let us be lead within thy bosom, Richard,
And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death!
Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair and die !
Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake
in joy ;
Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy!
Live, and beget a happy race of kings !
Edward's unhappy sons do bid thee flourish.
The Ghost of QUEEN ANNE wf^ 2 "
Ghost. Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne
thy wife,
That never slept a quiet hour with thee,
Now fills thy sleep with perturbations :
To-morrow in the battle think on me,
And fall thy edgeless sword : despair, and die!
Thou quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet sleep ;
[To RICHMOND.
Dream of success and happy victory:
Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee.
The Ghost ^BUCKINGHAM rises.
Ghost. The first was I that help'd thee to the
crown; [To KING RICHARD.
The last was I that felt thy tyranny :
O, in the battle think on Buckingham,
And die in terror of thy guiltiness !
Dream on, dream on of bloody deeds and death :
Fainting, despair ; despairing, yield thy breath !
I died for hope ere I could lend thee aid :
[70 RICHMOND.
But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismay'd :
God and good angels fight on Richmond's side ;
And Richard falls in height of all his pride.
[The Ghosts vanish. K. RICH, starts
out of his dream.
K. Rich. Give me another horse, bind up
my wounds,
Have mercy, Jesu ! Soft ! I did but dream.
co ward conscience, how dost thou afflict me !
The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight.
Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh.
What, do I fear myself? there 's none else by :
Richard loves Richard ; that is, I am I.
Is there a murderer here ? No ; yes ; I am :
Then fly. What, from myself? Great reason
why,
Lest I revenge. What, myself upon myself !
Alack, I love my self. Wherefore? foranygood
That I myself have done unto myself?
O, no ! alas, I rather hate myself
For hateful deeds committed by myself !
1 am a villain : yet I lie, I am not.
SCENE III.]
KING RICHARD III.
713
Fool, of thyself speak well : fool, do not flatter.
My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,
And every tongue brings in a several tale,
And every tale condemns me for a villain.
Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree ;
Murder, stern murder, in the dir'st degree ;
All several sins, all us'd in each degree,
Throng to the bar, crying all, Guilty ! guilty !
I shall despair. There is no creature loves me ;
And if I die no soul shall pity me :
Nay, wherefore should they, since that I myself
Find in myself no pity to myself?
Methought the souls of all that I had murder'd
Came to my tent ; and every one did threat
To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard.
Enter RATCLIFF.
Rat. My lord,
K. Rich. Who 's there ? [village-cock
Rat. Ratcliff, my lord; 'tis I. The early
Hath twice done salutation to the morn ;
Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour.
K. Rich. O Ratcliff, I have dream'd a fear-
ful dream ! [true ?
What thinkest thou, will our friends prove all
Rat. No doubt, my lord.
K. Rich. O Ratcliff, I fear, I fear,
Rat. Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of
shadows. [night
K. Rich. By the apostle Paul, shadows to-
Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard
Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers
Armed in proof and led by shallow Richmond.
It is not yet near day. Come, go with me ;
Under our tents I '11 play the eaves-dropper,
To hear if any mean to shrink from me.
[Exeunt K. RICH, and RATCLIFF.
RICHMOND wakes. Enter OXFORD and others.
Lords. Good-morrow, Richmond ! [men,
Richm. Cry mercy, lords and watchful gentle-
That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here.
Lords. How have you slept, my lord?
Richm. The sweetest sleep and fairest-boding
dreams
That ever enter'd in a drowsy head
Have I since your departure had, my lords.
Methought their souls whose bodies Richard
murder'd
Came to my tent, and cried on victory :
I promise you, my heart is very jocund
In the remembrance of so fair a dream.
How far into the morning is it, lords?
Lords. Upon the stroke of four.
Richm. Why, then, 'tis time to arm and give
direction.
{He advances to the Troops.
More than I have said, loving countrymen,
The leisure and enforcement of the time
Forbids to dwell on : yet remember this,
God and our good cause fight upon our side ;
The prayers of holy saints and wronged souls,
Like high-rear'd bulwarks, stand before our faces;
Richard except, those whom we fight against
Had rather have us win than him they follow :
For what is he they follow? truly, gentlemen,
A bloody tyrant and a homicide ; [lish'd ;
One rais'd in blood, and one in. blood estab-
One that made means to come by what he hath,
And slaughter'd those that were the means to
help him ;
A base foul stone, made precious by the foil
Of England's chair, where he is falsely set;
One that hath ever been God's enemy :
Then, if you fight against God's enemy,
God will, in justice, ward you as his soldiers;
If you do sweat to put a tyrant down,
You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain ;
If you do fight against your country's foes,
Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire j
If you do fight in safeguard of your wives,
Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors ;
If you do free your children from the sword,
Your children's children quit it in your age.
Then, in the name of God and all these rights,
Advance your standards, draw your willing
swords.
For me, the ransom of my bold attempt
Shall be this cold corpse on the earth's cold face;
But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt
The least of you shall share his part thereof.
Sound drums and trumpets boldly and cheer-
fully;
God and Saint George ! Richmond and victory!
{Exeunt.
Re-enter KING RICHARD, RATCLIFF,
Attendants, a nd Forces.
K. Rich. What said Northumberland as touch-
ing Richmond?
Rat. That he was never trained up in arms.
K. Rich. He said the truth : and what said
Surrey then? [purpose.
Rat. He smil'd, and said, the better for our
K. Rich. He was in the right ; and so, in-
deed, it is. [Clock strikes.
Tell the clock there. Give me a calendar.
Who saw the sun to-day?
Rat. Not I, my lord.
K. Rich. Then he disdains to shine ; for by
the book
He should have brav'd the east an hour ago :
A black day will it be to somebody.
Ratcliff,
KING RICHARD III.
[ACT v.
Rat. My lord ?
K. Rich. The sun will not be seen to-day;
The sky doth frown and lower upon our army.
I would these dewy tears were from the ground.
Not shine to-day ! Why, what is that to me
More than to Richmond? for the selfsame heaven
That frowns on me looks sadly upon him.
Enter NORFOLK.
,n9m9nri9g t -(Trh)Tv/- -f/ioi
Nor. Arm, arm, my lord ; the foe vaunts in
the field. [horse;
K. Rich. Come, bustle, bustle ; caparison my
Call up Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power:
I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain,
And thus my battle shall be ordered:
My forward shall be drawn out all in length,
Consisting equally of horse and foot ;
Our archers shall be placed in the midst :. n^rfT
John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey,
Shall have the leading of this foot and horse.
They thus directed, we ourself will follow
In the main battle; whose puissance on either side
Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse.
This, and Saint George to boot! What think'st
thou, Norfolk?
Nor. A good direction, warlike sovereign.
This found I on my tent this morning.
[Giving- a scroll.
K. Rich. [Reads.] Jocky of Norfolk, be not too
bold,
For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.
A thing devised by the enemy.
Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge:
Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls ;
Conscience is but a word that cowards use,
Devis'd at first to keep the strong in awe :
Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our
ttvr.'X.'ilaw.
March on, join bravely, let us to 't pell-mell ;
If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell.
What shall I say more than I have inferr'd ?
Remember whom you are to cope withal ;
A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways,
A scum of Bretagnes, and base lackey peasants,
Whom their o'er-cloyed country vomits forth
To desperate ventures and assur'd destruction.
You sleeping safe, they bring you to unrest ;
You having lands, and bless'd with beauteous
wives,
They would restrain the one, distain the other.
And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow,
Long kept in Bretagne at our mother's cost?
A milk sop, one that never in his life
Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow?
Let 's whip these stragglers o'er the seas again;
Lash hence these over- weening rags of France,
These famish'd beggars, weary of their lives;
Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit,
For want of means, poor rats, had hang'd them-
selves:
If we be conquer'd, let men conquer us,
And not these bastard Bretagnes; whom our
fathers [thump'd,
Have in their own land beaten, bobb'd, and
And, on record, left them the heirs of shame.
Shall these enjoy our lands? lie with our
wives?
Ravish our daughters? Hark! I hear their
drum. [Drum afar off.
Fight, gentlemen of England ! fight, bold yeo-
men !
Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head !
Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood;
Amaze the welkin with your broken staves !
.'
Enter a Messenger.
What says Lord Stanley? will he bring his power?
Mess. My lord, he doth deny to come.
K. Rich. Off with his son George's head !
Nor. My lord, the enemy is pass'd the
marsh :
After the battle let George Stanley die.
K. Rich. A thousand hearts are great within
my bosom :
Advance our standards, set upon our foes ;
Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George,
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons !
Upon them ! Victory sits on our helms.
[Exeunt.
.bnomr: -A bus looiq fii toon A
SCENE IV. Another part of the Field.
Alarum: excursions. Enter NORFOLK and
Forces ; to him CATESBY.
Gate. Rescue, my Lord of Norfolk, rescue,
rescue 1
The king enacts more wonders than a man,
Daring an opposite to every danger :
His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights,
Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death.
Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost !
bct>d TfEv/oib m '
Alarum. Enter KING RICHARD.
K. Rich. A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom
for a horse !
Gate. Withdraw, my lord; I '11 help you to
a horse.
K. Rich. Slave, I have set my life upon a cast,
And I will stand the hazard of the die :
I think there be six Richmonds in the field ;
Five have I slain to-day instead of him.** ft.
A horse ! a horse I my kingdom for a horse !
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.]
KING RICHARD III.
715
SCENE V. Another part of the Field.
Alarums. Enter, front opposite sides, KING
RICHARD and RICHMOND ; and exeunt fight-
ing. Retreat, and Jlourish. Then re-enter
RICHMOND, with STAN LEY bearing the crown,
and divers other Lords and Forces.
Richm. God and your arms be prais'd, vic-
torious friends ;
The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead.
Stan. Courageous Richmond, well hast thou
acquit thee !
Lo, here, this long-usurped royalty
From the dead temples of this bloody wretch
Have I pluck'd off, to grace thy brows withal :
Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it.
Richm. Great God of heaven, say Amen to
all!
But, tell me, is young George Stanley living?
Stan. He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester
town, [us.
Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw
Richm. What men of name are slain oneither
side?
Stan. John Duke of Norfolk, Walter Lord
Ferrers, [don.
Sir Robert Brakenbury, and Sir William Bran-
Richm. Inter their bodies as becomes their
births :
Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled
That in submission will return to us :
And then, as we have ta'en the sacrament,
We will unite the white rose and the red :
Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction,
That long hath frown'd upon their enmity !
What traitor hears me, and says not Amen ?
England hath long been mad, and scarr'd her-
self;
The brother blindly shed the brother's blood,
The father rashly slaughter'd his own son,
The son, compell'd, been butcher to the sire:
All this divided York and Lancaster,
Divided in their dire division,
O, now let Richmond and Elizabeth,,.;sK**AjO
The true succeeders of each royal house,
By God's fair ordinance conjoin together !
And let their heirs, God, if thy will be so,
Enrich the time to come with smooth'd-fac'd
peace,
With smiling plenty, and fair prosperous days I
Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord,
That would reduce these bloody days again,
And make poor England weep in streams of
blood!
Let them not live to taste this land's increase
That would with treason wound this fair land's
peace !
Now civil wounds are stopp'd, peace lives again :
That she may long live here, God say Amen !
[Exeunt.
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XVUNVJT laj^lNJXI VI 11.
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PERSONS REPRESENTED.
KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
CARDINAL WOLSEY.
CARDINAL CAMPEIUS.
CAPUCIUS, Ambas. from the Emperor CHARLES
V.
CRANMER, Archbishop of Canterbury.
DUKE OF NORFOLK.
DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.
DUKE OF SUFFOLK.
EARL OF SURREY.
Lord Chamberlain. Lord Chancellor.
GARDINER, Bishop of Winchester.
BISHOP OF LINCOLN.
LORD ABERGAVENNY.
LORD SANDS.
SIR HENRY GUILDFORD.
SIR THOMAS LOVELL.
SIR ANTHONY DENNY.
SIR NICHOLAS VAUX.
Secretaries to WOLSEY.
CROMWELL, Servant to WOLSEY.
GRIFFITH, Gent. -Usher to QUEEN KATHAR-
INE.
Three Gentlemen.
DR. BUTTS, Physician to the KING.
Garter King-at-Arms.
Surveyor to the DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.
BRANDON, and a Sergeant-at-Arms.
Doorkeeper of the Council Chamber.
Porter, and his Man.
Page to GARDINER. A Crier.
QUEEN KATHARINE, Wife to KING HENRY,
afterwards divorced.
ANNE BULLEN, her Maid of Honour, after-
wards Queen.
An Old Lady, Friend to ANNE BULLEN.
PATIENCE, Woman to QUEEN KATHARINE.
Several Lords and Ladies in the Dtimb Shows ;
Women attending upon the QUEEN ;
Scribes, Officers, Guards, and other Atten-
dants; Spirits.
SCENE, -
o) nobxeq &
-Chiefly in LONDON and WESTMINSTER ; once at KlMBOLTON.
' PROLOGUE.
I come no more to make you laugh : things now
That bear a weighty and a serious brow,
Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe,
Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow,
We now present. Those that can pity, here
May, if they think it well, let fall a tear ;
The subject will deserve it. Such as give
Their money out of hope they may believe,
May here find truth too. Those that come to
see
Only a show or two, and so agree
The play may pass, if they be still and willing,
I '11 undertake may see away their shilling
Richly in two short hours. Only they
That come to hear a merry bawdy play,
A noise of targets, or to see a fellow
In a long motley coat guarded with yellow,
Will be deceiv'd for, gentle hearers, know,
To rank our chosen truth with such a show
As fool and fight is, beside forfeiting
Our own brains, and the opinion that we bring,
To make that only true we now intend,
Will leave us never an understanding friend.
Therefore, for goodness' sake, and as you are
known
The first and happiest hearers of the town,
Be sad, as we would make ye : think ye see
The very persons of our noble story
As they were living ; think you see them great,
And follow'd with the general throng and sweat
Of thousand friends ; then, in a moment, see
How soon this mightiness meets misery :
And if you can be merry then I '11 say
A man may weep upon his wedding-day.
ACT I.
SCEN E I. LONDON. An Ante-chamber in the
Palace.
Enter the DUKE OF NORFOLK at one door; at
the other, the DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM and
the LORD ABERGAVENNY.
Buck. Good-morrow, and well met.
have you done
Since last we saw in France?
How
SCENE I.]
KING HENRY VIII.
717
Nor. I thank your grace,
Healthful ; and ever since a fresh admirer
Of what I saw there.
Buck. An untimely ague
Stay'd me a prisoner in my chamber, when
Those suns of glory, those two lights of men,
Met in the vale of Andren.
Nor. 'Twixt Guynes and Arde :
I was then present, saw them salute on horse-
back ; [clung
Beheld them, when they lighted, how they
In their embracement, as they grew together ;
Which had they, what four thron'd ones could
have weigh'd
Such a compounded one?
Buck. All the whole time
I was my chamber's prisoner.
Nor. Then you lost
The view of earthly glory : men might say,
Till this time pomp was single, but now married
To one above itself. Each following day
Became the next day's master, till the last
Made former wonders it's : to-day the French,
All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods,
Shone down the English ; and to-morrow they
Made Britain India : every man that stood
Show'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were
As cherubims, all gilt : the madams too,
Not us'd to toil, did almost sweat to bear
The pride upon them, that their very labour
Was to them as a painting: now this masque
Was cried incomparable; and the ensuing night
Made it a fool and beggar. The two kings,
Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst,
As presence did present them ; him in eye,
Still him in praise : and, being present both,
'Twas said they saw but one ; and no discerner
Durst wag his tongue in censure. When these
suns, [leng'd
For so they phrase 'em, by their heralds chal-
The noble spirits to arms, they did perform
Beyond thought's compass: that former fabu-
lous story,
Being now seen possible enough, got credit,
That Bevis was believ'd.
Buck. O, you go far.
Nor. As I belong to worship, and affect
In honour honesty, the tract of everything
Would by a good discourser lose some life,
Which action's self was tongue to. All was
royal ;
To the disposing of it naught rebell'd,
Order gave each thing view ; the office did
Distinctly his full function.
Bttck. Who did guide
I mean, who set the body and the limbs
Of this great sport together, as you guess?
Nor. One, certes, that promises no element
In such a business.
Buck. I pray you, who, my lord?
Nor. All this was ordered by the good dis-
cretion
Of the right reverend Cardinal of York, [freed
Buck. The devil speed him ! no man's pie is
From his ambitious finger. What had he
To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder
That such a keech can with his very bulk
Take up the rays o' the beneficial sun,
And keep it from the earth.
Nor. Surely, sir,
There's in him stuff that puts him to these
ends; [grace
For, being not propp'd by ancestry, whose
Chalks successors their way ; nor call'd upon
For high feats done to the crown ; neither allied
To eminent assistants ; but, spider-like,
Out of his self-drawing web, he gives us note
The force of his own merit makes his way ;
A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys
A place next to the king.
Aber. \ cannot tell
What heaven hath given him, let some graver
eye
Pierce into that ; but I can see his pride
Peep through each part of him : whence has he
that?
If not from hell, the devil is a niggard ;
Or has given all before, and he begins
A new hell in himself.
Buck. Why the devil,
Upon this French going-out, took he upon him,
Without the privity o' the king, to appoint
Who should attend on him? He makes up the
file
Of all the gentry ; for the most part such
To whom as great a charge as little honour
He meant to lay upon : and his own letter,
The honourable board of council out,
Must fetch him in the papers.
Aber. I do know
Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have
By this so sicken'd their estates that never
They shall abound as formerly.
Bttck.':"' O, many ['em
Have broke their backs with laying manors on
For this great journey. What did this vanity
But minister communication of
A most poor issue ?
Nor. Grievingly I think,
The peace between the French and us not values
The cost that did conclude it.
Buck. Every man,
After the hideous storm that follow'd, was
A thing inspir'd ; and, not consulting, broke
KING HENRY VIII.
[ACT i.
Into a general prophecy, That this tempest,
Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded
The sudden breach on 't.
Nor. Which is budded out ;
For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath
attach'd
Our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux.
Aber. Is it therefore
The ambassador is silenc'd ?
Nor. Marry, is't.
Aber. A proper title of a peace; and pur-
chas'd
At a superfluous rate !
Buck. Why, all this business
Our reverend cardinal carried.
Nor. Like it your grace ,
The state takes notice of the private difference
Betwixt you and the cardinal. I advise you,
And take it from a heart that wishes towards you
Honour and plenteous safety, that you read
The cardinal's malice and his potency
Together ; to consider further, that
What his high hatred would effect wants not
A minister in his power. You know his nature,
That he 's revengeful ; and I know his sword
Hath a sharp edge : it 'slong, and, 't may be said,
It reaches far ; and where 'twill not extend,
Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel,
You'll find it wholesome. Lo, where comes
that rock
That I advise you shunning.
Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY, the piirse borne be-
fore him, certain of the Guard, and two Sec-
retaries with papers. The CARDINAL in his
passage fixeth his eye on BUCKINGHAM, and
BUCKINGHAM on him, both full of disdain.
Wol. The Duke of Buckingham's surveyor?
ha?
Where 's his examination ? rw x/;I ol in
I Seer. Here, so please you.
Wol. Is he in person ready ?
I Secr Ay, please your grace.
Wol. Well, we shall then know more; and
Buckingham
Shall lessen this big look.
\_Exeunt WOLSEY and Train.
Buck. This butcher's cur is venom-mouth'd,
and I [best
Have not the power to muzzle him ; therefore
Not wake him in his slumber. A beggar's book
Outworths a noble's blood.
Nor. What, are you chaf'd?
Ask God for temperance ; that 's the appliance
only
Which your disease requires.
Buck. ,5m; \ read in 's looks
Matter against me ; and his eye revil'd
Me, as his abject object: at this instant [king;
He bores me with some trick : he 's gone to the
I '11 follow, and outstare him.
Nor. Stay, my lord,
And let your reason with your choler question
What 'tis you go about : to climb steep hills
Requires slow pace at first : anger is like
A full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way,
Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England
Can advise me like you : be to yourself
As you would to your friend.
Buck. I '11 to the king ;
And from a mouth of honour quite cry down
This Ipswich fellow's insolence ; or proclaim
There 's difference in no persons.
Nor. Be advis'd ;
Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot
That it do singe yourself: we may outrun,
By violent swiftness, that which we run at,
And lose by over-running. Know you not,
The fire that mounts the liquor till 't run o'er,
In seeming to augment it wastes it ? Be advis'd :
I say again, there is no English soul
More stronger to direct you than yourself,
If with the sap of reason you would quench
Or but allay the fire of passion.
Buck. Sir,
I am thankful to you ; and I '11 go along
By your prescription : but this top-proud fellow,
Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but
From sincere motions, by intelligence,
And proofs as clear as founts in July, when
We see each grain of gravel, I do know
To be corrupt and treasonous.
Nor. Say not treasonous.
Buck. To the king I '11 say 't ; and make my
vouch as strong
As shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox,
Or wolf, or both, for he is equal ravenous
As he is subtle, and as prone to mischief
As able to perform 't ; his mind and place
Infecting one another, yea, reciprocally,
Only to show his pomp as well in Francerjni:>
As here at home, suggests the king our master
To this last costly treaty, the interview,
That swallow'dso much treasure, and like a glass
Did break i' the rinsing.
Nor. Faith, and so it did.
Buck. Pray, give me favour, sir. This cunning
cardinal
The articles o' the combination drew
As himself pleas'd ; and they were ratified
As he cried, Thus let be : to as much end
As give a crutch to the dead: but our count-
cardinal
Has done this, and 'tis well ; for worthy Wolsey,
SCENE I.]
KING HENRY VIII.
719
Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows,
Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy
To the old dam treason, Charles the emperor,
Under pretence to see the queen his aunt,
For 'twas indeed his colour, but he came
To whisper Wolsey, here makes visitation :
His fears were that the interview betwixt
England and France might, through their amity,
Breed him some prejudice ; for from this league
Peep ; d harms that menac'd him : he privily
Deals with our cardinal ; and, as I trow,
Which I do well ; for I am sure the emperor
Paid ere he promis'd ; wherebyhis suit was granted
Ere it was ask'd ; but when the way was made,
And pav'd withgold, the emperor thusdesir'd,
That he would please to alter the king's course,
And break the foresaid peace. Let the king
know,
As soon he shall by me, that thus the cardinal
Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases,
And for his own advantage.
Nor. I am sorry
To hear this of him ; and could wish he were
Something mistaken in 't.
Buck. No, not a syllable :
I do pronounce him in that very shape
He shall appear in proof.
Enter BRANDON, a Sergeant-at-Arms before
him, and two or three of the Guard.
Bran. Your office, sergeant ; execute it.
Serg. Sir,
My lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earl
Of Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, I
Arrest thee of high treason, in the name
Of our most sovereign king.
Buck. Lo, you, my lord,
The net has fall'n upon me ! I shall perish
Under device and practice.
Bran. I am sorry
To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on
The business present : 'tis his highness' pleasure
You shall to the Tower.
Buck. It will help me nothing
To plead mine innocence ; for that dye is on me
Which makes my whit'st part black. The will
of heaven
Be done in this and all things ! I obey.
O my Lord Aberga'ny, fare you well !
Bran. Nay, he must bear you company.
The king {To ABERGAVENNY.
Is pleas'd you shall to the Tower, till you know
How he determines further.
Aber. As the duke said,
The will of heaven be done, and the king's
pleasure
By me obeyM !
Bran. Here is a warrant from
The king to attach Lord Montacute; and the
bodies
Of the duke's confessor, John de la Car,
One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor,
Buck. So, so;
These are the limbs o' the plot : no more, I
hope.
Bran. A monk o' the Chartreux.
Buck. O, Nicholas Hopkins?
Bran. He,
Buck. My surveyor is false; the o'er-great
cardinal [ready :
Hath show'd him gold ; my life is spann'd al-
I am the shadow of poor Buckingham,
Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on,
By darkening my clear sun. My lord, fare-
well. [Exeunt.
nijJfliam o3 alda Jon ,11^ aiainJofo ariT
SCENE II. LONDON. The Council Chamber.
Cornets. Enter KING HENRY, CARDINAL
WOLSEY, the Lords of the Council, SIR
THOMAS LOVELL, Officers, and Attendants.
The KING enters, leaning on the CARDINAL'S
shoulder.
K. Hen. My life itself, and the best heart of
it, [level
Thanks you for this great care : I stood i' the
Of a full-charg'd confederacy, and give thanks
To you that choked it. Let be call'd before us
That gentleman of Buckingham's : in person
I '11 hear him his confessions justify ;
And point by point the treasons of his master
He shall again relate.
[The KING takes his state. The Lords of
the Council take their several places. The
CARDINAL//**:^ himself under the KING'S
feet, on his right side.
^'tfi Vorfj 3Jon,avJifli)UjOW ftni'-tytyna yiM iosisrfj//
A noise within, crying, " Room for the
Queen!" Enter QUEEN KATHARINE,
ushered by the DUKES OF NORFOLK and
SUFFOLK: she kneels. The KING riseth
from his state, takes her up, kisses, and
placeth her by him.
Q. Kath. Nay, we must longer kneel : I am
a suitor. [your suit
K. Hen. Arise, and take place by us : half
Never name to us; you have half our power:
The other moiety, ere you ask, is given ;
Repeat your will, and take it.
Q. Kath. Thank your majesty.
That you would love yourself, and in that love
Not unconsider'd leave your honour, nor
The dignity of your office, is the point
Of my petition.
720
KING HENRY VIII.
[ACT i.
K. Hen. Lady mine, proceed.
Q. Kath. I am solicited, not by a few,
And those of true condition, that your subjects
Are in great grievance : there have been com-
missions
Sent down among 'em which have flaw'd the
heart
Of all their loyalties : wherein, although,
My good lord cardinal, they vent reproaches
Most bitterly on you, as putter-on
Of these exactions, yet the king our master,
Whose honour Heaven shield from soil ! even
he escapes not
Language unmannerly, yea, such which breaks
The sides of loyalty, and almost appears
In loud rebellion.
Nor. Not almost appears,
It doth appear ; for, upon these taxations,
The clothiers all, not able to maintain
The many to them 'longing, have put off
The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who,
Unfit for other life, compell'd by hunger
And lack of other means, in desperate manner
Daring the event to the teeth, are all in uproar,
And danger serves among them.
K. Hen. Taxation !
Wherein ? and what taxation ? My lord cardinal ,
You that are blam'd for it alike with us,
Know you of this taxation?
Wol. Please you, sir,
I know but of a single part, in aught
Pertains to the state ; and front but in that file
Where others tell steps with me.
Q. Kath. No, my lord,
You know no more than others; but you frame
Things that are known alike; which are not
wholesome [must
To those which would not know them, and yet
Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions,
Whereof my sovereign would have note, they are
Most pestilent to the hearing ; and to bear 'em
The back is sacrifice to the load. They say
They are devis'd by you ; or else you suffer
Too hard an exclamation.
K. Hen. Still exaction !
The nature of it? in what kind, let's know,
Is this exaction?
Q. Kath. I am much too venturous
In tempting of your patience ; but am bolden'd
Under your promis'd pardon. The subjects'
grief
Comes through commissions, which compel
from each
The sixth part of his substance, to be levied
Without delay ; and the pretence for this
Is nam'd your wars in France : this makes bold
mouths;
Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts
freeze
Allegiance in them; their curses now f{j o r
Live where their prayers did : and it 's come to
pass
This tractable obedience is a slave
To each incensed will. I would your highness
Would give it quick consideration, for
There is no primer business.
K. Hen. By my life,
This is against our pleasure.
Wol. And for me,
I have no further gone in this than by
A single voice ; and that not pass'd me but
By learned approbation of the judges. If I am
Traduc'd by ignorant tongues, which neither
know
My faculties nor person, yet will be
The chronicles of my doing, let me say
'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake
That virtue must go through. We must not stint
Our necessary actions, in the fear
To cope malicious censurers ; which ever,
As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow
That is new-trimm'd, but benefit no further
Than vainly longing. What we oft do best,
By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is
Not ours, or not allow'd ; what worst, as oft
Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up
For our best act. If we shall stand still,
In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at,
We should take root here where we sit, or sit
State-statues only.
K. Hen. Things done well
And with a care exempt themselves from fear ;
Things done without example, in their issue
Are to be fear'd. Have you a precedent
Of this commission ? I believe, not any.
We must not rend our subjects from our laws,
And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each ?
A trembling contribution ! Why, we take
From every tree lop, bark, and part o' the timber;
And, though we leave it with a root, thus hack'd,
The air will drink the sap. To every county
Where this is question'd send our letters, with
Free pardon to each man that has denied
The force of this commission : pray, look to 't ;
I put it to your care.
Wol. A word with you.
[To the Secretary.
Let there be letters writ to every shire,
Of the king's grace and pardon. The griev'd
commons
Hardly conceive of me ; let it be nois'd
That through our intercession this revokement
And pardon comes : I shall anon advise you
Further in the proceeding. [Exit Secretary,
SCENE II.]
KING HENRY VIII.
721
Enter Surveyor.
Q. Kath. I am sorry that the Duke of Buck-
ingham
Is run in your displeasure.
K. Hen. It grieves many :
The gentleman is learn'd, and a most rare
speaker ;
To nature none more bound ; his training such
That he may furnish and instruct great teachers,
And never seek for aid out of himself. Yet see,
When these so noble benefits shall prove
Not well dispos'd, the mind growing once
corrupt,
They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly
Than ever they were fair. This man so com-
plete, [we,
Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and when
Almost with ravish'd list'ning, could not find
His hour of speech a minute ; he, my lady,
Hath into monstrous habits put the graces
That once were his, and is become as black
As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us; you shall
hear
This was his gentleman in trust, of him
Things to strike honour sad. Bid him recount
The fore-recited practices ; whereof
We cannot feel too little, hear too much.
Wol. Stand forth, and with bold spirit relate
what you,
Most like a careful subject, have collected
Out of the Duke of Buckingham.
K. Hen. Speak freely.
Surv . First, it was usual with him, every day
It would infect his speech, that if the king
Should without issue die, he '11 carry it so
To make the sceptre his : these very words
I have heard him utter to his son-in-law,
Lord Aberga'ny ; to whom by oath he menac'd
Revenge upon the cardinal.
Wol. Please your highness, note
This dangerous conception in this point.
Not friended by his wish, to your high person
His will is most malignant ; and it stretches
Beyond you to your friends.
Q. Kath. My learn'd lord cardinal,
Deliver all with charity.
K. Hen. Speak on :
How grounded he his title to the crown
Upon our fail ? to this point hast thou heard him
At any time speak aught ?
Surv. He was brought to this
By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins.
K. Hen. What was that Hopkins ?
Surv. Sir, a Chartreux friar,
His confessor ; who fed him every minute
With words of sovereignty.
K. Hen. How know'st thou this ?
Surv. Not long before your highness sped to
France, .utjyA
The Duke being at the Rose, within the parish
Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand
What was the speech among the Londoners
Concerning the French journey : I replied,
Men fear'd the French would prove perfidious,
To the king's danger. Presently the duke
Said, 'twas the fear, indeed ; andthathe doubted
'Twould prove the verity of certain words
Spoke by a holy monk ; That oft, says he,
Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit
John de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hour
To hear from him a matter of some moment I
Whom after under the confession's seal
He solemnly had sworn, that what he spoke
My chaplain to no creature living but
To me should utter, with demure confidence
This pausingly ensued, Neither the king nor'*
heirs,
Tell you the duke, shall prosper : bid him strive
To gain the love o' the commonalty : the duke
Shall govern England.
Q. Kath. If I know you well,
You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your
office
On the complaint o' the tenants: take good
heed . ;: {
You charge not in your spleen a noble person,
And spoil your nobler soul : I say, take heed ;
Yes, heartily beseech you.
K. Hen. Let him on :
Go forward.
Surv. On my soul, I '11 speak but truth.
I told my lord the duke, by the devil's illusions
The monk might be deceiv'd ; and that 'twas
dangerous for him
To ruminate on this so far, until
It forg'd him some design, which, being believ'd,
It was much like to do : he answer'd, Tush,
It can do me no damage ; adding further,
That, had the king in his last sickness fail'd,
The cardinal's and Sir Thomas Lovell's heads
Should have gone off.
K. Hen. Ha ! what, so rank ? Ah-ha !
There 's mischief in this man : Canst thou say
further?
Surv. I can, my liege.
K. Hen. Proceed.
Surv. Being at Greenwich,
After your highness had reprov'd the duke
About Sir William Blomer,
K. Hen. I remember
Of such a time : being my sworn servant,
The duke retain'd him his. But onj what
hence ?
722
KING HENRY VIII.
[ACT*.
Surv. If, quoth he, I for this had been com-
mitted,
As, to the Tower, I thought, / would have
play'd
The part my father meant to act upon
The usurper Richard ; who, being at Salisbttry ,
Made suit to come in's presence; which, if
granted,
As he made semblance of his duty, would
Have put his knife into him.
K. Hen. A giant traitor !
Wol. Now, madam, may his highness live in
freedom,
And this man out of prison ?
Q. Kath. God mend all !
K. Hen. There 's something more would out
of thee ; what say'st ?
Surv. After the duke his father, with the knife,
He stretch'd him, and, with one hand on his
dagger,
Another spread on 's breast, mounting his eyes,
He did discharge a horrible oath ; whose tenor
Was, were he evil us'd, he would out-go
His father by as much as a performance
Does an irresolute purpose.
K. Hen. There 's his period,
To sheath his knife in us. He is attach'd ;
Call him to present trial : if he may
Find mercy in the law, 'tis his ; if none,
Let him not seek't of us : by day and night,
He is a daring traitor to the height. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. LONIX>N. A Room in the Palace.
Enter the Lord Chamberlain d?LoRD SANDS.
Cham. Is't possible the spells of France
should juggle
Men into such strange mysteries ?
Sands. New customs,
Though they be never so ridiculous,
Nay, let them be unmanly, yet are follow'd.
Cham. As far as I see, all the good our
English
Have got by the late voyage is but merely
A fit or two o' the face ; but they are shrewd
ones ;
For when they hold them, you would swear
directly
Their very noses had been counsellors
To Pepin or Qotharius, they keep state so.
Sands. They have all new legs, and lame
ones : one would take it,
That never saw 'em pace before, the spavin
Or springhalt reign'd among 'em.
Cham. Death ! my lord,
Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too,
That sure they have worn out Christendom.
Enter SIR THOMAS LOVELL.
How now ?
What news, Sir Thomas Lovell ?
Lov. 'Faith, my lord,
I hear of none, but the new proclamation
That 's clapp'd upon the court -gate.
Cham. What is 't for ?
Lov. The reformation of our travell'd gallants,
That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.
Cham. I am glad 'tis there : now I would
pray our monsieurs
To think an English courtier may be wise,
And never see the Louvre.
Lov. They must either
For so ran the conditions leave those remnants
Of fool and feather that they got in France,
With all their honourable points of ignorance
Pertaining thereunto, as fights and fireworks ;
Abusing better men than they can be,
Out of a foreign wisdom, renouncing clean
The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings,
Short blister'd breeches, and those types of
travel,
And understand again, like honest men ;
Or pack to their old playfellows : there, I take it,
They may, cum privilegio, wear away
The lag end of their lewdness, and be laugh'd
at.
Sands. 'Tis time to give 'em physic, their
diseases
Are grown so catching.
Cham. What a loss our ladies
Will have of these trim vanities 1
Lov. Ay, marry,
There will be woe indeed, lords : the sly whore-
sons
Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies ;
A French song and a fiddle has no fellow.
Sands. The devil fiddle 'em! I am glad
they 're going,
For, sure, there 's no converting of 'em : now
An honest country lord, as I am, beaten
A long time out of play, may bring his plain-
song,
And have an hour of hearing ; and, by'r Lady,
Held current music too.
Cham. Well said, Lord Sands ;
Your colt's tooth is not cast yet.
Sands. No, my lord ;
Nor shall not, while I have a stump.
Cham. Sir Thomas,
Whither were you a-going ?
Lov. To the cardinal's :
Your lordship is a guest too.
Cham. O, 'tis tme ;
This night he makes a supper, and a great one,
SCENE IV.j
KING HENRY VIII.
723
To many lords and ladies ; there will be
The beauty of this kingdom, I '11 assure you.
Lov. That churchman bears a bounteous mind
indeed,
A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us ;
His dews fall everywhere.
Cham. No doubt he 's noble ;
He had a black mouth that said other of him.
Sands. He may, my lord, has wherewithal ;
in him [trine :
Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doc-
Men of his way should be most liberal;
They are set here for examples.
Cham. True, they are so ;
But few now give so great ones. My barge
stays ; [Thomas,
Your lordship shall along. Come, good Sir
We shall be late else; which I would not be,
For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guildford,
This night to be comptrollers.
Sands. I am your lordship's.
[Exeunt.
': *5 Jarf} K f yb; r-jgrijM amoo ^rTfvVI
SCENE IV. LONDON. The Presence Cham-
ber in York Place.
'aa3n' lv> H v>ri ^o ^rro- L '. % riT
Hautboys. A small table under a state for the
CARDINAL, a longer table for the guests.
Enter, at one door t ANNE BULLEN, and
divers Lords, Ladies, and Gentlewomen, as
guests ; at another door, enter SlR HENRY
... GUILDFORD.
Guild. Ladies, a general welcome from his
grace
Salutes ye all ; this night he dedicates
To fair content and you : none here, he hopes,
In all this noble bevy, has brought with her
One care abroad ; he would have all as merry
As, first, good company, good wine, good wel-
come [tardy :
Can make good people. O, my lord, you are
Enter Lord Chamberlain, LORD SANDS, and
maK>n: SlR THOMAS L VEI 4o/>rnhb o
The very thought of this fair company
Clapp'd wings to me.
Cham. You are young, Sir Henry Guildford.
Sands. Sir Thomas Lovell, had the cardinal
But half my lay-thoughts in him, some of these
Should find a running banquet ere they rested ;
I think would better please 'em : by my life,
They are a sweet society of fair ones. [fessor
Lov. O, that your lordship were but now con-
To one or two of these !
Sands. I would I were;
They should find easy penance.
Lov. Faith, how easy?
Sands. As easy as a down-bed would afford it.
Chant. Sweet ladies, will it please you sit?
Sir Harry,
Place you that side ; I '11 take the charge of this :
His grace is ent'ring. Nay, you must not
freeze ; [weather :
Two women plac'd together makes cold
My Lord Sands, you are one will keep 'em
waking ;
Pray, sit between these ladies.
Sands. By my faith,
And thank your lordship. By your leave, sweet
ladies:
[Seats himself between ANNE BULLEN
and atiother Lady.
If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me ;
I had it from my father.
Anne. Was he mad, sir?
Sands. O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love
too:
But he would bite none; just as I do now,
He would kiss you twenty with a breath.
[Kisses her.
Cham. Well said, my lord.
So, now you 're fairly seated. Gentlemen,
The penance lies on you if these fair ladies
Pass away frowning.
Sands. For my little cure,
Let me alone.
Hautboys. Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY,
attended; and takes his state.
Wol. Ye 're welcome, my fair guests: that
noble lady
Or gentleman that is not freely merry
Is not my friend : this, to confirm my welcome ;
And to you all, good health. [Drinks.
Sands. Your grace is noble :
Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks,
And save me so much talking.
Wol. My Lord Sands,
I am beholden to you : cheer your neighbours.
Ladies, you are not merry : gentlemen,
Whose fault is this?
Sands. The red wine first must rise
In their fair cheeks, my lord ; then we shall have
'em
Talk us to silence.
Anne. You are a merry gamester,
My Lord Sands. -^
Sands. Yes, if I make my play.
Here 's to your ladyship: and pledge it, madam,
For 'tis to such a thing,
Anne. You cannot show me.
Sands. I told your grace they would talk anon.
[Drum and trumpets: Chamber*
discharged within.
724
KING HENRY VIII.
[ACT ii.
Wol. What's that?
Chain. Look out there, some of ye.
[Exit a Servant.
Wol. What warlike voice,
And to what end, is this? Nay, ladies, fear not;
By all the laws of war ye 're privileg'd.
Re-enter Servant.
Cham. How now ! what is 't?
Serv. A noble troop of strangers,
For so they seem : they have left their barge,
and landed;
And hither make, as great ambassadors
From foreign princes.
Wol. Good lord chamberlain,
Go, give 'em welcome; you can speak the French
tongue ;
And, pray receive 'em nobly, and conduct 'em
Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty
Shall shine at full upon them. Some attend him.
[Exit Chamberlain attended. A II arise,
and tables removed.
You have now a broken banquet: but we'll
mend it.
A good digestion to you all : and once more
I shower a welcome on you ; welcome all.
Hautboys. Enter the KING, and others, as
maskers, habited like shepherds, with Torch-
bearers, ushered by the Lord Chamberlain.
They pass directly before the CARDINAL, and
gracefully salute him.
A noble company ! what are their pleasures ?
Cham. Because they speak no English, thus
they pray'd, r j on z
To tell your grace, that, having heard by fame
Of this so noble and so fair assembly
This night to meet here, they could do no less,
Out of the great respect they bear to beauty,
But leave their flocks; and, under your fair
conduct,
Crave leave to view these ladies, and entreat
An hour of revels with 'em.
Wol. Say, lord chamberlain,
They have done my poor house grace ; for which
I pay 'em [pleasures.
A thousand thanks, and pray 'em take their
[Ladies chosen for the dance. The KING
chooses ANNE BULLEN.
K. Hen. The fairest hand I ever touch'd!
O beauty,
Till now I never knew thee ! [Music. Dance.
Wol. My lord,
Cham. Your grace?
Wol. Pray tell them thus much from me :
There should be one amongst them, by his
person,
More worthy this place than myself ; to whom,
If I but knew him, with my love and duty
I would surrender it.
Cham. I will, my lord.
[ Goes to the Maskers, and returns.
Wol. What say they?
Cham. Such a one, they all confess,
There is indeed ; which they would have your grace
Find out, and he will take it.
Wol. Let me see, then.
[Comes from his state.
By all your good leaves, gentlemen ; here I '11
make
My royal choice.
K. Hen. Ye have found him, cardinal:
[ Unmasking.
You hold a fair assembly ; you do well, lord :
You are a churchman, or I '11 tell you, cardinal,
I should judge now unhappily.
Wol. I am glad
Your grace is grown so pleasant.
K. Hen. My lord chamberlain,
Pr'ythee, come hither: what fair lady's that?
Cham. An 't please your grace, Sir Thomas
Bullen's daughter, [women.
The Viscount Rochford, one of her highness'
K. Hen. By heaven, she is a dainty one.
Sweetheart,
I were unmannerly to take you out,
And not to kiss you. A health, gentlemen !
Let it go round.
Wol. Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready
I' the privy chamber?
Lov. Yes, my lord.
Wol. Your grace,
I fear, with dancing is a little heated.
K. Hen. I fear, too much.
Wol. There 's fresher air, my lord.
In the next chamber. [sweet partner,
K. Hen. Lead in your ladies, every one :
I must not yet forsake you : let 's be merry : >
Good my lord cardinal, I have half a dozen
healths
To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure
To lead 'em once again ; and then let 's dream
Who 's best in favour. Let the music knock it.
rinaH [Exeunt, with trumpets.
Ijsnibifio arfo bsd ,!!?/ ' . .'.^J?.
92^d) V> 3HMW , ffi : ..____ ' irf to**
ACT II.
SCENE I. LONDON. A Street.
Enter two Gentlemen, meeting.
1 Gent. Whither away so fast? ; j i o
2 Gent. O, God save ye !
E'en to the hall, to hear what shall become
Of the great Duke of Buckingham.
SCENE I.]
KING HENRY VIII.
725
1 Gent. I '11 save you
That labour, sir. All's now done, but the
ceremony
Of bringing back the prisoner.
2 Gent. Were you there?
1 Gent. Yes, indeed, was I.
2 Gent. Pray, speak what has happen'd.
1 Gent. You may guess quickly what.
2 Gent. Is he found guilty?
1 Gent. Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd
upon 't.
2 Gent. I am sorry for 't.
1 Gent. So are a number more.
2 Gent. But, pray, how pass'd it? [duke
1 Gent. I '11 tell you in a little. The great
Came to the bar ; where to his accusations
He pleaded still not guilty, and alleg'd
Many sharp reasons to defeat the law.
The king's attorney, on the contrary,
Urg'd on the examinations, proofs, confessions
Of divers witnesses ; which the duke desir'd
To have brought, vivA voce, to his face :
At which appear'd against him his surveyor ;
Sir Gilbert Peck, his chancellor; and John Car,
Confessor to him ; with that devil-monk,
Hopkins, that made this mischief.
2 Gent. That was he
That fed him with his prophecies?
1 Gent. The same.
All these accus'd him strongly ; which he fain
Would have flung from him, but, indeed, he
could not :
And so his peers, upon this evidence,
Have found him guilty of high treason. Much
He spoke, and learnedly, for life ; but all
Was either pitied in him or forgotten. [self?
2 Gent. After all this, how did he bear him-
1 Gent. When he was brought again to the
bar to hear [stirr'd
His knell rung out, his judgment, he was
With such an agony, he sweat extremely,
And something spoke in choler, ill, and hasty;
But he fell to himself again, and sweetly
In all the rest show'd a most noble patience.
2 Gent. I do not think he fears death.
1 Gent. Sure, he does not,
He never was so womanish ; the cause
He may a little grieve at.
2 Gent. Certainly
The cardinal is the end of this.
1 Gent. 'Tis likely,
By all conjectures : first, Kildare's attainder,
Then deputy of Ireland ; who remov'd,
Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too,
Lest he should help his father.
2 Gent. That trick of state
Was a deep envious one.
1 Gent. At his return
No doubt he will requite it. This is noted,
And generally, whoever the king favours
The cardinal instantly will find employment,
And far enough from court too.
2 Gent. All the commons
Hate him perniciously, and, o' my conscience,
Wish him ten fathom deep : this duke as much
They love and dote on; call him bounteous
Buckingham,
The mirror of all courtesy,
1 Gent. Stay there, sir,
And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of.
Enter BUCKINGHAM from his arraignment;
Tip-staves before him ; the axe with the edge
towards him; halberds on each side: with
him SIR THOMAS LOVELL, SIR NICHOLAS
VAUX, SIR WILLIAM SANDS, and common
people.
2 Gent. Let 's stand close, and behold him.
Buck. All good people,
You that thus far have come to pity me,
Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me
I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment,
And by that name must die : yet, heaven bear
witness,
And if I have a conscience, let it sink me,
Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful !
The law I bear no malice for my death ;
'T has done, upon the premises, but justice :
But those that sought it I could wish more
Christians :
Be what they will, I heartily forgive 'em :
Yet let 'em look they glory not in mischief,
Nor build their evils on the graves of great mens
For then my guiltless blood must cry against 'em
For further life in this world I ne'er hope,
Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies
More than I dare make faults. You few that
lov'd me,
And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham,
His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave
Is only bitter to him, only dying,
Go with me, like good angels, to my end ;
And as the long divorce of steel falls on me
Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice,
And lift my soul to heaven. Lead on, o' God's
name.
Lov. I do beseech your grace, for charity,
If ever any malice in your heart
Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.
Bitck. Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you
As I would be forgiven : I forgive all ;
There cannot be those numberless offences
'Gainst me that I cannot take peace with: no
black envy
726
KING HENRY VIII.
[ACT II.
Shall make my grave. Commend me to his
grace ;
And if he speak of Buckingham, pray tell him
You met him half in heaven: my vows and
prayers
Yet are the king's ; and, till my soul forsake,
Shall cry for blessings on him : may he live
Longer than I have time to tell his years !
Ever belov'd and loving may his rule be lyariT
And when old time shall lead him to his end,
Goodness and he fill up one monument 1
Lav. To the water side I must conduct your
grace ;
Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux,
Who undertakes you to your end.
Vaux. Prepare there,
The duke is coming : see the barge be ready ;
And fit it uith such furniture as suits
The greatness of his person.
Buck. Nay, Sir Nicholas,
Let it alone ; my state now will but mock me.
When I came hither I was lord high constable
And Duke of Buckingham ; now, poor Edward
Bohun : ynsri
Yet I am richer than my base accusers, [it ;
That never knew what truth meant : I now seal
And with that blood will make 'em one day
groan for 't.
My noble father, Henry of Buckingham,
Who first rais'd head against usurping Richard,
Flying for succour to his servant Banister,
Being distress'd, was by that wretch betray'd,
And without trial fell ; God's peace be with him !
Henry the Seventh succeeding, truly pitying
My father's loss, like a most royal prince,
Restart! me to my honours, and out of ruins
Made my name once more noble. Now his son,
Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name, and all
That ma'ie me happy, at one stroke has taken
For ever from the world. I had my trial,
And must needs say a noble one ; which makes
me
A little happier than my wretched father :
Yet thus far we are one in fortunes, both
Fell by our servants, by those men we lov'dmost;
A most unnatural and faithless service !
Heaven has an end in all : yet, you that hear me,
This from a dying man receive as certain :
Where you are liberal of your loves and counsels,
Be sure you be not loose ; for those you make
friends [ceive
And give your hearts to, when they once per-
The least rub in your fortunes, fall away
Like water from ye, never found again I ?A
But where they mean to sink ye. All good
people, [hour
Pray for me I I must now forsake ye : the last
Of my long weary life is come upon me.
Farewell :
And when you would say something that is sad,
Speak how I fell. I have done ; and God for-
give me !
[Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and Train.
1 Gent. O, this is full of pity ! Sir, it calls,
I fear, too many curses on their heads
That were the authors.
2 Gent. If the duke be guiltless,
'Tis full of woe : yet I can give you inkling
Of an ensuing evil, if it fall,
Greater than this.
1 Gent. Good angels, keep it from us !
Where may it be? You do not doubt my faith,
sir ? [quire
2 Gent. This secret is so weighty, 'twill re-
A strong faith to conceal it.
1 Gent. Let me have it ;
I do not talk much.
2 Gent. I am confident ;
You shall, sir : did you not of late days hear
A buzzing of a separation
Between the king and Katharine ? [ j 13 f
1 Gent. Yes, but it held not :
For when the king once heard it, out of anger
He sent command to the lord mayor straight
To stop the rumour, and allay those tongues
That durst disperse it.
2 Gent. But that slander, sir,
Is found a truth now: for it grows again,( L , y/
Fresher than e'er it was ; and held for certain
The king will venture at it. Either the cardinal,
Or some about him near, have, out of malice
To the good queen, possess'd him with a scruple
That will undo her : to confirm this too,
Cardinal Campeius is arriv'd, and lately ;
As all think, for this business.
1 Gent. 'Tis the cardinal ;
And merely to revenge him on the emperor
For not bestowing on him, at his asking,
The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purpos'd.
2 Gent. I think you have hit the mark : but
is 't not cruel [cardinal
That she should feel the smart of this? The
Will have his will, and she must fall.
i Gent. 'Tis woeful.
We are too open here to argue this ;
Let 's think in private more. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. LONDON. An Ante-chamber in
the Palace. .;)Wfl OD Ifc v9
Enter the Lord Chamberlain reading a letter.
Cham. My lord, The horses your lordship
sent for, with all the care I had, I saw well
chosen, ridden, and furnished. They were young
SCENE II.]
KING HENRY VIII.
727
and handsome, and of the best breed in the north.
When they were ready to set ntt for London, a
man of my lord cardinal 's, by commission and
main power, took 'em from me ; with this
reason, His master would be served before a
subject, if not before the king; which stopped
our mouths, sir.
I fear he will indeed : well, let him have them:
He will have all, I think.
Enter the DUKES OF NORFOLK and SUFFOLK.
Nor. Well met, my Lord Chamberlain.
Cham. Good- day to both your graces.
Suf. How is the king employ'd?
Cham. I left him private,
Full of sad thoughts and troubles.
Nor. What 's the cause ?
Cham. It seems the marriage with his
brother's wife
Has crept too near his conscience.
Suf. No, his conscience
Has crept too near another lady.
Nor. 'Tisso:
This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal :
That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune,
Turns what he lists. The king will know him
one day. [self else.
Suf. Pray God he do ! he '11 never know him-
Nor. Plow holily he works in all his business!
And with what zeal ! for, now he has crack'd
the league [nephew,
Between us and the emperor, the queen's great-
He dives into the king's soul, and there scatters
Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience,
Fears, and despairs, and all these for his mar-
riage:
And out of all these to restore the king,
He counsels a divorce ; a loss of her
That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years
About his neck, yet never lost her lustre ;
Of her that loves him with that excellence
That angels love good men with ; even of her
That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls,
Will bless the king : and is not this course pious?
Cham. Heaven keep me from such counsel !
'Tis most true ['em,
These newsare everywhere; every tongue speaks
And every true heart weeps for 't : all that dare
Look into these affairs see this main end,
The French king's sister. Heaven will one day
open
The king's eyes, that so long have slept upon
This bold bad man.
Suf. And free us from his slavery.
Nor. We had need pray,
And heartily, for our deliverance ;
Or this imperious man will work us all
From princes into pages : all men's honours
Lie like one lump before him, to be fashion'd
Into what pitch he please.
Suf. For me, my lords,
I love him not, nor fear him ; there 's my creed:
As I am made without him, so I '11 stand,
If the king please ; his curses and his blessings
Touch me alike, they are breath I not believe in.
I knew him, and I know him ; so I leave him
To him that made him proud, the pope.
Nor. Let 's in;
And with some other business put the king
From these sad thoughts that work too much
upon him :
My lord, you '11 bear us company?
Cham. Excuse me ;
The king has sent me other -where : besides,
You '11 find a most unfit time to disturb him :
Health to your lordships.
Nor. Thanks, my good lord chamberlain.
[Exit Lord Chamberlain.
NORFOLK opens a folding door. The KING is
discovered sitting, and reading pensively.
Suf. How sad he looks ! sure, he is much
afflicted.
K. Hen. Who is there, ha?
Nor. Pray God he be not angry.
K. Hen. Who's there, I say? How dare
you thrust yourselves
Into my private meditations ?
Who am I, ha?
Nor. A gracious king, that pardons all offences
Malice ne'er meant : our breach of duty this way
Is business of estate ; in which we come
To know your royal pleasure.
K. Hen. Ye are too bold :
Go to ; I '11 make you know your times of busi-
ness :
Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha ?
Enter WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS.
Who 's there ? my good lord cardinal ? O my
Wolsey,
The quiet of my wounded conscience,
Thou art a cure fit for a king. You're welcome,
[To CAMPEIUS.
Most reverend learned sir, into our kingdom :
Use us and it. My good lord, have great care
I be not found a talker. [To WOLSEY.
Wol. Sir, you cannot.
I would your grace would give us but an hour
Of private conference.
K. Hen. We are busy ; go.
[To NORFOLK and SUFFOLK.
Nor. [Aside /0SUF.] This priest has no pride
in him !
728
KING HENRY VIII.
[ACT II.
Suf. [Aside to NOR.] Not to speak of:
I would not be so sick though for his place :
But this cannot continue.
Nor. [Aside /?SuF.] If it do,
I '11 venture one have-at-him.
Suf. [Aside to NOR.] I another.
[Exeunt NOR. and SUF.
Wol. Your grace has given a precedent of
wisdom
Above all princes, in committing freely
Your scruple to the voice of Christendom.
Who can be angry now ? what envy reach you?
The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her,
Must now confess, if they have any goodness,
The trial just and noble. All the clerks,
I mean the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms,
Have their free voices : Rome the nurse of
judgment,
Invited by your noble self, hath sent
One general tongue unto us, this good man,
This just and learned priest, Cardinal Cam-
peius,
Whom once more I present unto your highness.
K. Hen. And once more in mine arms I bid
him welcome,
And thank the holy conclave for their loves :
They have sent me such a man I would have
wish'd for.
Cam. Your grace must needs deserve all
strangers' loves,
You are so noble. To your highness' hand
I tender my commission ; by whose virtue,
The court of Rome commanding, you, my lord
Cardinal of York, are join'd with me their
servant,
In the unpartial judging of this business.
K. Hen. Two equal men. The queen shall
be acquainted
Forthwith for what you come. Where's
Gardiner?
Wol. I know your majesty has always lov'd
her
So dear in heart, not to deny her that
A woman of less place might ask by law,
Scholars allow'd freely to argue for her.
JC. Hen. Ay, and the best she shall have ;
and my favour
To him that does best : God forbid else. Car-
dinal,
Pr'ythee, call Gardiner to me, my new secre-
tary :
I find him a fit fellow. [Exit WOLSEY.
Re-enter WOLSEY with GARDINER.
Wol. [Aside to GARD.] Give me your hand :
much joy and favour to you ;
You are the king s now.
Card. [Aside toVJo~L.~\ But to be commanded
For ever by your grace, whose hand has rais'd
me.
K. Hen. Come hither, Gardiner.
[ They converse apart.
Cam. My Lord of York, was not one Doctor
Pace
In this man's place before him ?
Wol. Yes, he was.
Cam. Was he not held a learned man ?
Wol. Yes, surely.
Cam. Believe me, there's an ill opinion
spread, then,
Even of yourself, lord cardinal.
Wol. How! of me?
Cam. They will not stick to say you envied
him ;
And fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous,
Kept him a foreign man still ; which so griev'd
him
That he ran mad and died.
Wol. Heaven's peace be with him !
That's Christian care enough: for living
murmurers
There 's places of rebuke. He was a fool ;
For he would needs be virtuous : that good fellow,
If I command him, follows my appointment :
I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother,
We live not to be grip'd by meaner persons.
K. Hen. Deliver this with modesty to the
queen. [Exit GARDINER.
The most convenient place that I can think of
For such receipt of learning is Black-Friars ;
There ye shall meet about this weighty busi-
ness :
My Wolsey, see it furnish'd. O, my lord,
Would it not grieve an able man to leave
So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, con-
science,
O, 'tis a tender place ! and I must leave her.
[Exeunt.
;:9V3 ;rlJtw R9t'.>.
SCENE III. LONDON. An Ante-chamber in
the QUEEN'S Apartments.
Enter ANNE BULLEN and an Old Lady.
Anne. Not for that neither : here 's the pang
that pinches :
His highness having liv'd so long with her, and
she
So good a lady that no tongue could ever
Pronounce dishonour of her, by my life,
She never knew harm-doing ; O, now, after
So many courses of the sun enthron'd,
Still growing in a majesty and pomp, the which
To leave a thousand-fold more bitter than
SCENE III.]
KING HENRY VIII.
729
'Tis sweet at first to acquire, after this process,
To give her the avaunt ! it is a pity
r Would move a monster.
Old L. Hearts of most hard temper
Melt and lament for her.
Anne. O, God's will ! much better
She ne'er had known pomp : though it be tem-
poral,
Yet, if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce
It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance panging
As soul and body's severing.
Old L. Alas, poor lady !
She 's a stranger now again.
Anne. So much the more
Must pity drop upon her. Verily,
I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born,
And range with humble livers in content,
Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief,
And wear a golden sorrow.
Old L. Our content
Is our best having.
Anne. By my troth and maidenhead,
I would not be a queen.
Old L. Beshrew me, I would,
And venture maidenhead for 't ; and so would
you,
For all this spice of your hypocrisy :
You, that have so fair parts of woman on you,
Have too a woman's heart ; which ever yet
Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty;
Which, to say sooth, are blessings ; and which
gifts,
Saving your mincing, the capacity
Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive
If you might please to stretch it.
Anne. Nay, good troth,
Old L. Yes, troth and troth ; you would not
be a queen?
Anne. No, not for all the riches under heaven.
Old L. 'Tis strange : a threepence bowed
would hire me,
Old as I am, to queen it: but, I pray you,
What think you of a duchess? have you
limbs
To bear that load of title?
Anne. No, in truth.
Old L. Then you are weakly made: pluck
off a little ;
I would not be a young count in your way
For more than blushing comes to : if your back
Cannot vouchsafe this burden, 'tis too weak
Ever to get a boy.
Anne. How you do talk !
I swear again I would not be a queen
For all the world.
Old L. In faith, for little England
You 'd venture an emballing : I myself
Would for Carnarvonshire, although there
long'd [here?
No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes
Enter the Lord Chamberlain.
Cham. Good-morrow, ladies. What wer't
worth to know
The secret of your conference?
Anne. My good lord,
Not your demand ; it values not your asking :
Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying. [ing
Cham. It was a gentle business, and becom-
The action of good women : there is hope
All will be well.
Anne. Now, I pray God, amen !
Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly
blessings [lady,
Follow such creatures. That you may, fair
Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note 's
Ta'en of your many virtues, the king's majesty
Commends his good opinion of you to you, and
Does purpose honour to you no less flowing
Than Marchioness of Pembroke ; to which title
A thousand pound a year, annual support,
Out of his grace he adds.
Anne. I do not know
What kind of my obedience I should tender ;
More than my all is nothing : nor my prayers
Are not words duly hallo w'd, nor my wishes
More worth than empty vanities ; yet prayers
and wishes
Are all I can return. Beseech your lordship,
Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience,
As from a blushing handmaid, to his highness ;
Whose health and royalty I pray for.
Cham. Lady,
I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit
The king hath of you. I have perus'd her
well ; [Aside.
Beauty and honour in her are so mingled
That they have caught the king: and who
knows yet
But from this lady may proceed a gem
To lighten all this isle? I'll to the king
And say I spoke with you.
Anne. My honour'd lord.
[Exit Lord Chamberlain.
Old L. Why, this it is ; see, see !
I have been begging sixteen years in court,
Am yet a courtier beggarly, nor could
Come pat betwixt too early and too late
For any suit of pounds ; and you, O fate !
A very fresh-fish here, fie, fie, fie upon [up
This compell'd fortune ! have your mouth fill'd
Before you open it.
Anne. This is strange to me. [no.
Old Z. How tastes it ? is it bitter ? forty pence,
730
KING HENRY VIII.
[ACT II.
There was a lady once, 'tis an old story,
That would not be a queen, that would she not,
For all the mud in Egypt : have you heard it?
Anne. Come, you are pleasant.
Old L. With your theme I could
O'ermount the lark. The Marchioness of Pem-
broke !
A thousand pounds a year for pure respect 1
No other obligation ! By my life,
That promises more thousands : honour's train
Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time
I know your back will bear a duchess : say,
Are you not stronger than you were ?
Anne. Good lady,
Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy,
And leave me out on 't. Would I had no being,
If this salute my blood a jot: it faints me
To think what follows.
The queen is comfortless, and we forgetful
In our long absence : pray, do not deliver
What here you have heard to her.
Old L. ' What do you think me?
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV. LONDON. A Hall in BLACK-
FRIARS.
Trumpet^ sennet, and cornets. Enter two
Vergers, with short silver -wands ; next them,
two Scribes, in the habits of doctors ; after
them, the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY
alone; after him, the BISHOPS OF LINCOLN,
ELY, ROCHESTER, and SAINT ASAPH ; next
them, with some small distance, follows a
Gentleman bearing the purse, with the great
seal, and a Cardinal s hat ; then two Priests,
bearing each a silver cross ; then a Gentle-
man-usher bareheaded, accompanied with a
Sergeant-at-Arms bearing a silver mace;
then two Gentlemen bearing two great silver
pillars ; after them, side by side, the two
Cardinals, WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS; two
Noblemen with the sword and mace. Then
enter the KING and QUEEN and their Trains.
The KING takes place under the cloth of state;
the two Cardinals sit under him as judges.
The QUEEN takes place at some distance from
the KING. The Bishops place themselves on
each side the court, in mamurof a consistory ;
between them the Scribes. The Lords sit
next the Bishops. The Crier and the rest of
the Attendants stand in convenient order
about the hall.
Wol. Whilst out-commission from Rome is
read,
Let silence be commanded.
K. Hen. What 's the need?
It hath already publicly been read,
And on all sides the authority allow'd ;
You may, then, spare that time.
Wol. Be 't so. Proceed.
Scribe. Say, Henry King of England, come
into the court.
Crier. Henry King of England, &c.
K. Hen. Here.
Scribe. Say, Katharine Queen of England,
come into the court.
Crier. Katharine Queen of England, &c.
[The QUEEN makes no answer, rises out of
her chair, goes about the court, comes to
the KING, and kneels at his feet ; then
speaks.
Q. Kath. Sir, I desire you do me right and
justice ;
And to bestow your pity on me : for
I am a most poor woman, and a stranger,
Born out of your dominions ; having here
No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance
Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir,
In what have I offended you ? what cause
Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure,
That thus you should proceed to put me off,
And take your good grace from me? Heaven
witness,
I have been to you a true and humble wife,
At all times to your will conformable :
Ever in fear to kindle your dislike, [sorry
Yea, subject to your countenance, glad or
As I saw it inclin'd. When was the hour
I ever contradicted your desire, [friends
Or made it not mine too? Or which of your
Have I not strove to love, although I knew
He were mine enemy? what friend of mine
That had to him derived your anger, did I
Continue in my liking ? nay, gave notice
He was from thence discharg'd ? Sir, call to mind
That I have been your wife, in this obedience,
Upward of twenty years, and have been blest
With many children by you : if, in the course
And process of this time, you can report,
And prove it too, against mine honour aught,
My bond to wedlock or my love and duty,
Against your sacred person, in God's name,
Turn me away ; and let the foul'st contempt
Shut door upon me, and so give me up
To the sharp'st kind of justice. Please you, sir,
The king, your father, was reputed for
A prince most prudent, of an excellent
And unmatch'd wit and judgment: Ferdinand,
My father, King of Spain, was reckoned one
The wisest prince that there had reign'd by many
A year before : it is not to be question'd
That they had gather* d a wise council to them
Of every realm, that did debate this business,
SCENE IV.]
KING HENRY VIII.
731
Who deetn'd our marriage lawful : wherefore I
humbly
Beseech you, sir, to spare me, till I may
Be by my friends in Spain advis'd ; whose
counsel
I will implore ; if not, i' the name of God,
Your pleasure be fulfill'd !
Wol. You have here, lady,
And of your choice, these reverend fathers ;
men
Of singular integrity and learning,
Yea, the elect o 5 the land, who are assembled
To plead your cause : it shall be therefore boot-
less
That longer you desire the court ; as well
For your own quiet as to rectify
What is unsettled in the king.
Cam. His grace
Hath spoken well and justly : therefore, madam,
It 's fit this royal session do proceed ;
And that, without delay, their arguments
Be now produc'd and heard.
Q. Kath. Lord cardinal,
To you I speak.
Wol. Your pleasure, madam ?
Q. Kath. Sir,
I am about to weep ; but, thinking that
We are a queen, or long have dream'd so,
certain
The daughter of a king, my drops of tears
I '11 turn to sparks of fire.
Wol. Be patient yet.
Q. Kath. I will, when you are humble;
nay, before,
Or God will punish me. I do believe,
Induc'd by potent circumstances, that
You are mine enemy ; and make my challenge
You shall not be my judge : for it is you
Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me,
Which God's dew quench ! Therefore I say again,
I utterly abhor, yea, from my soul
Refuse you for my judge ; whom, yet once more,
I hold my most malicious foe, and think not
At all a friend to truth.
Wol. I do profess
You speak not like yourself; who ever yet
Have stood to charity, and display'd the effects
Of disposition gentle, and of wisdom [wrong :
O'ertopping woman's power. Madam, you do me
I have no spleen against you, nor injustice
For you or any : how far I have proceeded,
Or how far further shall, is warranted
By a commission from the consistory, [me
Yea, the whole consistory of Rome. You charge
That I have blown this coal : I do deny it :
The king is present : if it be known to him
That I gainsay my deed, how may he wound,
And worthily, my falsehood ! yea, as much
As you have done my truth. If he know
That I am free of your report, he knows
I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him
It lies to cure me : and the cure is, to [fore
Remove these thoughts from you : the which be-
His highness shall speak in, I do beseech
You, gracious madam, to unthink your speaking.
And to say so no more.
Q. Kath. My lord, my lord,
I am a simple woman, much too weak
To oppose your cunning. You 're meek and
humble-mouth'd ;
You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,
With meekness and humility ; but your heart
Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride.
You have, by fortune and his highness' favours,
Goneslightly o'er low steps, and now are mounted
Where powers are your retainers; and your
words,
Domestics to you, serve your will as 't please
Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you,
You tender more your person's honour than
Your high profession spiritual : that again
I do refuse you for my judge ; and here,
Before you all, appeal unto the pope,
To bring my whole cause 'fore his holiness,
And to be judg'd by him.
[She curtsies to the KING, and offers to depart.
Cam. The queen Ls obstinate,
Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and
Disdainful to be tried by it : 'tis not well.
She 's going away.
K. Hen. Call her again.
Crier. Katharine Queen of England, come
into the court.
Grif. Madam, you are call'd back.
Q. Kath. What need you note it? pray you,
keep your way :
When you are call'd, return. Now the Lord
help,
They vex me past my patience ! Pray you, pass
on:
I will not tarry ; no, nor ever more
Upon this business my appearance make
In any of their courts.
\Excunt QUEEN, GRIP. , and her other
Attendants.
K. Hen. Go thy ways, Kate:
That man i' the world who shall report he has
A better wife, let him in naught be trusted
For speaking false in that : thou art, alone,
If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness,
Thy meekness saint-like, wife-likegovernment
Obeying in commanding and thy parts
Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out,
The queen of earthly queens: she's noble bom;
732
KING HENRY VIII.
[ACT ii.
And like her true nobility she has
Carried herself towards me.
WoL Most gracious sir,
In humblest manner I require your highness
That it shall please you to declare, in hearing
Of all these ears, for where I am robb'd and
bound,
There must I be unloos'd ; although not there
At once and fully satisfied, whether ever I
Did broach this business to your highness ; or
Laid any scruple in your way, which might
Induce you to the question on 't ? or ever
Have to you, but with thanks to God for such
A royal lady, spake one the least word that
might
Be to the prejudice of her present state,
Or touch of her good person ?
K. Hen. My lord cardinal,
I do excuse you ; yea, upon mine honour,
I free you from't. You are not to be taught
That you have many enemies, that know not
Why they are so, but, like to village curs,
Bark when their fellows do : by some of these
The queen is put in anger. You are excus'd :
But will you be more justified ? you ever
Have wish'd the sleeping of this business ; never
Desir'd it to be stirr'd ; but oft have hinder'd,
oft,
The passages made toward it : on my honour,
I speak my good lord cardinal to this point,
And thus far clear him. Now, what mov'd me
to't,
I will be bold with time and your attention :
Then mark the inducement. Thus it came ;
give heed to't :
My conscience first receiv'd a tenderness,
Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter'd
By the Bishop of Bayonne, then French am-
bassador ;
Who had been hither sent on the debating
A marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleans and
Our daughter Mary: I' the progress of this
business,
Ere a determinate resolution, he,
I mean the bishop, did require a respite ;
Wherein he might the king his lord advertise
Whether our daughter were legitimate,
Respecting this our marriage with the dowager,
Sometimes our brother's wife. This respite shook
The bosom of my conscience, enter'd me,
Yea, with a splitting power, and made to tremble
The region of my breast ; which forc'd such way
That many maz'd considerings did throng,
And press'd in with this caution. First, me-
thought
I stood not in the smile of heaven ; who had
Commanded nature that my lady's womb,
If it conceiv'd a male child by me, should
Do no more offices of life to 't than
The grave does to the dead ; for her male issue
Or died where they were made, or shortly after
This world had air'd them : hence 1 took a
thought
This was a judgment on me ; that my kingdom,
Well worthy the best heir o' the world, should
not
Be gladded in 't by me : then follows that
I weigh'd the danger which my realms stood in
By this my issue's fail ; and that gave to me
Many a groaning throe. Thus hulling in
The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer
Toward this remedy, whereupon we are
Now present here together ; that 's to say,
I meant to rectify my conscience, which
I then did feel full sick, and yet not well,
By all the reverend fathers of the land,
And doctors learn'd : first, I began in private
With you, my Lord of Lincoln ; you remember
How under my oppression I did reek
When I first mov'd you.
Lin. Very well, my liege.
K. Hen. I have spoke long : be pleas'd your-
self to say
How far you satisfied me.
Lin. So please your highness,
The question did at first so stagger me,
And did entreat your highness to this course
Which you are running here.
K. Hen. I then mov'd you,
My Lord of Canterbury ; and got your leave
To make this present summons : unsolicited
I left no reverend person in this court ;
But by particular consent proceeded
Under your hands and seals : therefore, go on ;
For no dislike i' the world against the person
Of the good queen, but the sharp thorny points
Of my alleged reasons, drive this forward .
Prove but our marriage lawful, by my life l
And kingly dignity, we are contented
To wear our mortal state to come with her,
Katharine our queen, before the primest creature
That 's paragon'd o' the world.
Cam*j'{ ,rni So pleasure your highness,
The queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness
That we adjourn this court till further day:
Meanwhile must be an earnest motion
Made to the queen to call back her appeal
She intends unto his holiness.
[ They rise to depart.
K. Hen. I may perceive
These cardinals trifle with me : I abhor
SCENE I.]
KING HENRY VIII.
733
This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome. [Aside.
My learn'd and well-belov'd servant, Cranmer,
Pr'ythee, return ! with thy approach, I know,
My comfort comes along. Break up the court:
I say, set on.
[Exeunt in manner as they entered.
I
ACT III.
SCENE I. LONDON. Palace at Bridewell.
A Room in the QUEEN'S Apartment.
The QUEEN and some of her Women at -work.
Q. Kath. Take thy lute, wench: my soul
grows sad with troubles ;
Sing and disperse 'em, if thou canst: leave
working-
8 *!a nsrfw ,nmtTOW Jsdi oJ fanA
SONG.
Orpheus with his lute made trees,
And the mountain-tops that freeze,
Bow themselves, when he did sing :
To his music plants and flowers
Ever sprung ; as sun and showers
There had made a lasting spring.
Everything that heard him play,
Even the billows of the sea,
Hung their heads and then lay by
In sweet music is such art :
Killing care and grief of heart
Fall asleep, or, hearing, die.
Enter a Gentleman.
Q. Kath. How now ? [cardinals
Gent. An 't please your grace, the two great
Wait in the presence.
Q. Kath. Would they speak with me ?
Gent. They will'd me say so, madam.
Q. Kath. Pray their graces
To come near. [Exit Gent.] What can be their
business
With me, a poor weak woman, fallen from favour?
I do not like their coming, now I think on 't.
They should be good men ; their affairs as
righteous :
But all hoods make not monks.
Entsr WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS.
Wo I. Peace to your highness !
Q. Kath. Your graces find me here part of a
housewife ;
I would be all, against the worst may happen.
What are your pleasures with me, reverend
lords ? [withdraw
Wol. May it please you, noble madam, to
Into your private chamber, we shall give you
The full cause of our coming.
Q. Kath. Speak it here ;
There 's nothing I have done yet, o' my con-
science,
Deserves a corner : would all other women
Could speak this with as free a soul as I do !
My lords, I care not, so much I am happy
Above a number, if my actions
Were tried by every tongue, every eye saw 'em,
Envy and base opinion set against 'em,
I know my life so even. If your business
Seek me out, and that way I am wife in,
Out with it boldly: truth loves open dealing.
Wol. Tanta est erga te mentis integritas t
regina serenissima,
Q. Kath. O, good my lord, no Latin ;
I am not such a truant since my coming
As not to know the language I have lived in :
A strange tongue makes my cause more strange,
suspicious;
Pray, speak in English: here are some will
thank you, [sake,
If you speak truth, for their poor mistress'
Believe me, she has had much wrong: lord
cardinal,
The willing'st sin I ever yec committed
May be absolv'd in English.
Wol. Noble lady,
I am sorry my integrity should breed,
And service to his majesty and you,
So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant.
We come not by the way of accusation
To taint that honour every good tongue blesses,
Nor to betray you any way to sorrow,
You have too much, good lady ; but to know
How you stand minded in the weighty difference
Between the king and you ; and to deliver,
Like free and honest men, our just opinions,
And comforts to your cause. ; .'.:
Cam. Most honour 'd madam,
My Lord of York, out of his noble nature,
Zeal and obedience he still bore your grace,
Forgetting, like a good man, your late censure
Both of his truth and him, which was too far,
Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace,
His service and his counsel.
Q. Kath. To betray me. [Aside.
My lords, I thank you both for your good -wills;
Ye speak like honest men, pray God ye prove
so!
But how to make ye suddenly an answer,
In such a point of weight, so near mine
honour,
More near my life, I fear, with my weak wit,
And to such men of gravity and learning,
In truth, I know not. I was set at work
Among my maids; full little, God knows,
looking
Either for such men or such business.
"734
KING HENRY VIII.
[ACT III.
For her sake that I have been, for I feel
The last fit of my greatness, good your graces,
Let me have time and counsel for my cause :
Alas, I am a woman, friendless, hopeless 1
Wol. Madam, you wrong the king's love
with these fears :
Your hopes and friends are infinite.
Q. Kath. In England
But little for my profit : can you think, lords,
That any Englishman dare give me counsel ?
Or be a known friend, 'gainst his highness'
pleasure,
Though he be grown so desperate to be honest,
And live a subject ? Nay, forsooth, my friends,
They that must weigh out my afflictions,
They that my trust must grow to, live not here :
They are, as all my other comforts, far hence,
In mine own country, lords.
Cam. I would your grace
Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel.
Q. Kath. How, sir?
Cam. Put your main cause into the king's
protection ;
He 's loving and most gracious : 'twill be much
Both for your honour better and your cause ;
For if the trial of the law o'ertake ye
You '11 part away disgrac'd.
Wol. He tells you rightly.
Q. KcUh. Ye tell me what ye wish for both,
my ruin :
Is this your Christian counsel ? out upon ye !
Heaven is above all yet ; there sits a Judge
That no king can corrupt.
Cam. Your rage mistakes us.
Q. Kath. The more shame for ye : holy men
I thought ye,
Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues ;
But cardinal sins and hollow hearts I fear ye :
Mend them, for shame, my lords. Is this your
comfort ?
The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady,
A woman lost among ye, laugh'd at, scorn'd ?
I will not wish ye half my miseries ;
I have more charity: but say I warn'd ye ;
Take heed, for heaven's sake, take heed, lest at
once
The burden of my sorrows fall upon ye.
Wol. Madam, this is a mere distraction ;
You turn the good we offer into envy.
Q. Kath. Ye turn me into nothing : woe upon
ye, me,
And all such false professors ! would you have
If you have any justice, any pity,
If ye be anything but churchmen's habits,
Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me?
Alas ! has banish'd me his bed already,
His love too long ago I I am old, my lords,
And all the fellowship I hold now with him
Is only my obedience. What can happen
To me above this wretchedness ? all your studies
Make me a curse like this.
Cam. Your fears are worse.
Q. Kath. Have I liv'd thus long, let me
speak myself,
Since virtue finds no friends, a wife, a true one?
A woman, I dare say without vain-glory,
Never yet branded with suspicion ?
Have I with all my full affections
Still met the king? lov'd him next heaven?
obey'd him?
Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him ?
Almost forgot my prayers to content him ?
And am I thus rewarded ? 'tis not well, lords.
Bring me a constant woman to her husband,
One that ne'er dream'd a j oy beyond his pleasure ;
And to that woman, when she has done most,
Yet will I add an honour, a great patience.
Wol. Madam, you wander from the good we
aim at. [guilty,
Q. Kath. My lord, I dare not make myself so
To give up willingly that noble title
Your master wed me to : nothing but death
Shall e'er divorce my dignities.
Wol. Pray, hear me.
Q. Kath. Would I had never trod this
English earth,
Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it !
Ye have angels' faces, but heaven knows your
hearts.
What will become of me now, wretched lady ?
I am the most unhappy woman living.
Alas, poor wenches, where are now your for-
tunes ? [ To her Women.
Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity,
No friends, no hope ; no kindred weep for me ;
Almost no grave allow'd me : like the lily,
That once was mistress of the field and flourish'd,
I '11 hang my head and perish.
Wol. If your grace
Could but be brought to know our ends are
honest,
You 'd feel more comfort : why should we, good
lady,
Upon what cause, wrong you ? alas, our places,
The way of our profession is against it :
We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow 'em,
For goodness' sake, consider what you do ;
How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly
Grow from the king's acquaintance, by this
Carriage.
The hearts of princes kiss obedience,
So much they love it ; but to stubborn spirits
They swell, and grow as terrible as storms.
I know you have a gentle, noble temper,
SCENE II.]
KING HENRY VIII.
735
A soul as even as a calm : pray, think us
Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and
servants.
Cam. Madam, you '11 find it so. You wrong
your virtues
With these weak women's fears : a noble spirit,
As yours was put into you, ever casts
Such doubts, as false coin, from it. The king
loves you ;
Beware you lose it not : for us, if you .please
To trust us in your business, we are ready
To use our utmost studies in your service.
Q. Kath. Do what ye will, my lords : and,
pray, forgive me
If I have us'd myself unmannerly ;
You know I am a woman, lacking wit
To make a seemly answer to such persons.
Pray, do my service to his majesty :
He has my heart yet ; and shall have my prayers
While I shall have my life. Come, reverend
fathers,
Bestow your counsels on me ; she now begs
That little thought, when she set footing here,
She should have bought her dignities so dear.
\Exeunt.
'. ni;gi> qo32 nsriJ j iLsg jasi ojui luo
SCENE II. LONDON. Ante-chamber to the
KING'S Apartment in the Palace.
Enter the DUKE OF NORFOLK, the DUKE OF
SUFFOLK, the EARL OF SURREY, and the
Lord Chamberlain.
Nor. If you will now unite in your complaints,
And force them with a constancy, the cardinal
Cannot stand under them : if you omit
The offer of this time, I cannot promise
But that you shall sustain more new disgraces,
With these you bear already.
Sur. I am joyful
To meet the least occasion that may give me
Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke,
To be reveng'd on him.
Suf. Which of the peers
Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least
Strangely neglected ? when did he regard
The stamp of nobleness in any person
Out of himself?
Cham. My lords, you speak your pleasures :
What he deserves of you and me I know ;
What we can do to him, though now the time
Gives way to us, I much fear. If you cannot
Bar his access to the king, never attempt
Anything on him ; for he hath a witchcraft
Over the king in 's tongue.
Nor. O, fear him not -,
His spell in that is out : the king hath found
Matter against him that for ever mars
The honey of his language. No; he's settled.
Not to come off, in his displeasure.
Sur. Sir,
I should be glad to hear such news as this
Once every hour.
Nor. Believe it, this is true :
In the divorce his contrary proceedings
Are all unfolded ; wherein he appears
As I would wish mine enemy.
Sur. How came
His practices to light ?
Suf. Most strangely.
Sur. O, how, how ?
Suf. The cardinal's letters to the pope mis-
carried, [read
And came to the eye o' the king : wherein was
How that the cardinal did entreat his holiness
To stay the judgment o' the divorce ; for if
It did take place, I do, quoth he, perceive
My king is tangled in affection to
A creature of the queen s^ Lady Anne Bullen.
Sur. Has the king this ?
Suf. Believe it.
Sur. Will this work?
Cham. The king in this perceives him how
he coasts
And hedges his own way. But in this point
All his tricks founder, and he brings his physic
After his patient's death : the king already
Hath married the fair lady.
Sur. Would he had !
Suf. May you be happy in your wish, my lord I
For, I profess, you have it.
Sur. Now, all my joy
Trace the conjunction !
Suf. My amen to 't !
Nor. All men's I
Suf. There 's order given for her coronation :
Marry, this is yet but young, and may be left
To some ears unrecounted. But, my lords,
She is a gallant creature, and complete
In mind and feature: I persuade me, from her
Will fall some blessing to this land, which shall
In it be memoriz'd.
Sur. But will the king
Digest this letter of the cardinal's ?
The Lord forbid !
Nor. Marry, amen !
Suf. No, no j
There be more wasps that buzz about his nose
Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal
Campeius
Is stol'n away to Rome ; hath ta'en no leave ;
Has left the cause o' the king unhandled ; and
Is posted, as the agent of our cardinal,
To second all his plot. I do assure you
The king cried Ha ! at this.
736
KING HENRY VIII.
[ACT in.
Cham. v "'' Now, God incense him,
And let him cry Ha ! louder !
Nor, But, my lord,
When returns Cranmer ?
Suf. He is return'd, in his opinions ; which
Have satisfied the king for his divorce,
Together with all famous colleges
Almost in Christendom : shortly, I believe,
His second marriage shall be publish'd, and
Her coronation. Katharine no more
Shall be call'd queen, but princess dowager
And widow to Prince Arthur.
Nor. This same Cranmer 's
A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain
In the king's business.
Suf. He has ; and we shall see him
For it an archbishop.
NOK\ { 3j So I hear.
Suf. 'Tis so.
The cardinal !
,^\\W^L wttL-jn^iA. ,v sw**>,
Enter WOLSEY and CROMWELL.
Nor. Observe, observe, he 's moody.
Wol. The packet, Cromwell,
Gave 't you the king ?
Crom. To his own hand, in 's bedchamber.
Wol. Look'd he o' the inside of the paper ?
Crom. Presently
He did unseal them : and the first he view'd,
He did it with a serious mind ; a heed
Was in his countenance. You he bade
Attend him here this morning.
Wol. Is he ready
To come abroad ?
Crom. I think by this he is.
Wol. Leave me awhile. [Exit CROMWELL.
It shall be to the Duchess of Alen9on,
The French king's sister : he shall marry her.
Anne Bullen ! No ; I '11 no Anne Bullens for
him :
There 's more in't than fair visage. Bullen !
No, we'll no Bullens. Speedily I wish
To hear from Rome. The Marchioness of
Pembroke !
Nor. He 's discontented.
Suf. May be he hears the king
Does whet his anger to him.
Sur. Sharp enough,
Lord, for thy justice ! [daughter,
Wol. The late queen'sgentlewoman, a knight's
To be her mistress' mistress ! thequeen'squeen!
This candle burns not clear : 'tis I must snuff it ;
Then out it goes. What though I know her
virtuous
And well deserving? yet I know her for
A spleeny Lutheran ; and not wholesome to
Our cause, that she should lie i' the bosom of
Our hard-rul'd king. Again, there is sprung up
An heretic, an arch one, Cranmer ; one
Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king,
And is his oracle.
Nor. He is vex'd at something.
Sur. I would 'twere something that would
fret the string,
The master-cord on 's heart !
Suf. The king, the king J
Enter the KING, reading a schedule, and
LOVELL.
K. Hen. What piles of wealth hath he ac-
cumulated
To his own portion ! and what expense by the
hour [thrift,
Seems to flow from him ! How, i' the name of
Does he rake this together ? Now, my lords,
Saw you the cardinal ?
Nor. My lord, we have [tion
Stood here observing him : some strange commo-
Is in his brain : he bites his lip and starts ;
Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground,
Then lays his finger on his temple ; straight
Springs out into fast gait ; then stops again,
Strikes his breast hard ; and anon he casts
His eye against the moon : in most strange
postures
We have seen him set himself.
K. Hen. It may well be ;
There is a mutiny in 's mind. This morning
Papers of state he sent me to peruse,
As I requir'd : and wot you what I found
There, on my conscience, put unwittingly?
Forsooth, an inventory, thus importing,
The several parcels of his plate, his treasure,
Rich stuffs, and ornaments of household ; which
I find at such proud rate that it out-speaks
Possession of a subject.
Nor. It 's heaven's will :
Some spirit put this paper in the packet
To bless your eye withal.
K. Hen. If we did think
His contemplation were above the earth,
And fix'd on spiritual object, he should still
Dwell in his musings : but I am afraid
His thinkings are below the moon, not worth
His serious considering.
\He takes his seat and -whispers LOVELL,
who goes to WOLSEY.
Wol. Heaven forgive me !
Ever God bless your highness !
K. Hen. Good, my lord,
You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the in-
ventory
Of your best graces in your mind ; the which
SCENE II.]
KING HENRY VIII.
737
You were now running o'er: you have scarce
time
To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span
To keep your earthly audit : sure, in that
I deem you an ill husband, and am glad
To have you therein my companion.
mi. Sir,
For holy offices I have a time ; a time
To think upon the part of business which
I bear i' the state ; and nature does require
Her times of preservation, which perforce
I, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal,
Must give my tendance to.
K. Hen. You have said well.
Wol. And ever may your highness yoke to-
gether.
As I will lend you cause, my doing well
With my well saying ! %
K. Hen. 'Tis well said again ;
And 'tis a kind of good deed to say well :
And yet words are no deeds. My father lov'd
you :
He said he did ; and with his deed did crown
His word upon you. Since I had my office
I have kept you next my heart ; have not alone
Employ'd you where high profits might come
home,
But par'd my present havings to bestow
My bounties upon you.
Wol. What should this mean ? [Aside.
Sur. The Lord increase this business !
[Aside to others.
K. Hen. Have I not made you
The prime man of the state ? I pray you, tell me
If what I now pronounce you have found true :
And, if you may confess it, say withal
If you are bound to us or no. What say you ?
Wol. My sovereign, I confess your royal
graces, [could
Shower'd on me daily, have been more than
My studied purposes requite ; which went
Beyond all man's endeavours : my endeavours
Have ever come too short of my desires,
Yet fill'd with my abilities : mine own ends
Have been mine so that evermore they pointed
To the good of your most sacred person and
The profit of the state. For your great graces
Heap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I
Can nothing render but allegiant thanks ;
My prayers to heaven for you ; my loyalty,
Which ever has and ever shall be growing,
Till death, that winter, kill it.
-^ Hen. Fairly answer'd ;
A loyal and obedient subject is
Therein illustrated : the honour of it
Does pay the act of it ; as, i' the contrary,
The foulness is the punishment. I presume
That, as my hand has open'd bounty to you,
My heart dropp'd love, my power rain'd
honour, more
On you than any ; so your hand and heart,
Your brain, and every function of your power,
Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty,
As 'twere in love's particular, be more
To me, your friend, than any.
Wol. I do profess
That for your highness' good I ever labour'd
More than mine own ; that am, have, and will
be, [you,
Though all the world should crack their duty to
And throw it from their soul j though perils did
Abound as thick as thought could make 'em, and
Appear in forms more horrid, yet my duty,
As doth a rock against the chiding flood,
Should the approach of this wild river break,
And stand unshaken yours.
K. Hen. 'Tis nobly spoken :
Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast,
For you have seen him open 't. Read o'er this ;
[Giving him papers*
And after, this : and then to breakfast with
What appetite you have.
[Exit ', frowning upon CARDINAL WOLSEY :
the Nobles throng after him t smiling
and whispering,
Wol. What should this mean ?
What sudden anger's this ? how have I reap'd it?
He parted frowning from me, as if ruin
Leap'd from his eyes : so looks the chafed lion
Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him ;
Then makes him nothing. I must read this
paper;
I fear, the story of his anger. 'Tis so;
This paper has undone me : 'tis the account
Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together
For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the pope-
dom,
And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence,
Fit for a fool to fall by ! What cross devil
Made me put this main secret in the packet
I sent the king ? Is there no way to cure this ?
No new device to beat this from his brains ?
I know 'twill stir him strongly ; yet I know
A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune,
Will bring me off again. What 5 s this To the
Pope ?
The letter, as I live, with all the business
I writ to 's holiness. Nay then, farewell !
I have touch'd the highest point of all my great-
ness ;
And from that full meridian of my glory
I haste now to my setting : I shall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
And no man see me more.
2 A
KING HENRY VIII.
[ACT in.
Re-enter the DUKES OF NORFOLK and SUF-
FOLK, the EARL OF SURREY, and the Lord
Chamberlain.
Nor, Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal:
who commands you
To render up the great seal presently
Into our hands ; and to confine yourself
To Asher House, my Lord of Winchester's,
Till you hear further from his highness.
mi. Stay,
Where 's your commission, lords ? words cannot
carry
Authority so weighty.
Sttf. Who dare cross 'em,
Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly ?
Wol. Till I find more than will or words to
do it,
I mean your malice, know, officious lords,
I dare and must deny it. Now I feel
Of what coarse metal ye are moulded, envy :
How eagerly ye follow my disgraces,
As if it fed ye ! and how sleek and wanton
Ye appear in everything may bring my ruin !
Follow your envious courses, men of malice ;
You have Christian warrant for them, and, no
doubt,
In time will find their fit rewards. That seal,
You ask with such a violence, the king,
Mine and your master, with his own hand gave
me ;
Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honours,
During my life ; and, to confirm his goodness,
Tied it by letters-patents : now, who '11 take it ?
Sur. The king, that gave it.
Wol. It must be himself then.
Sur. Thou art a proud traitor, priest.
Wol. Proud lord, thou liest :
Within these forty hours Surrey durst better
Have burnt that tongue than said so.
Sur. Thy ambition,
Thou scarlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land
Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law :
The heads of all thy brother cardinals,
With thee and all thy best parts bound together,
Weigh'd not a hair of his. Plague of your policy !
You sent me deputy for Ireland ;
Far from his succour, from the king, from all
That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st
him ;
Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity,
Absolv'd him with an axe.
Wol. This, and all else
This talking lord can lay upon my credit,
I answer, is most false. The duke by law
Found his deserts : how innocent I was
From any private malice in his end,
His noble jury and foul cause can witness.
If I lov'd many words, lord, I should tell you
You have as little honesty as honour,
That in the way of loyalty and truth
Toward the king, my ever royal master,
Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be,
And all that love his follies.
Sur. By my soul,
Your long coat, priest, protects you ; thou
shouldst feel [lords,
My sword i' the life-blood of thee else. My
Can ye endure to hear this arrogance ?
And from this fellow ? If we live thus tamely,
To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet,
Farewell, nobility; let his grace go forward,
And dare us with his cap like larks.
. Wol. All goodness
Is poison to thy stomach.
Sur. Yes, that goodness
Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one,
Into your own hands, cardinal, by extortion ;
The goodness of your intercepted packets
You writ to the pope against the king: your
goodness, [ous.
Since you provoke me, shall be most notori-
My Lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble,
As you respect the common good, the state
Of our despis'd nobility, our issues,
Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen,
Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles
Collected from his life : I '11 startle you
Worse than the sacring bell, when the brown
wench
Lay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal.
Wol. How much, methinks, I could despise
this man,
But that I am bound in charity against it !
Nor. Those articles, my lord, are in the
king's hand :
But, thus much, they are foul ones.
Wol. So much fairer
And spotless shall mine innocence arise,
When the king knows my truth.
Sur. This cannot save you :
I thank my memory I yet remember
Some of these articles ; and out they shall.
Now, if you can blush and cry guilty, cardinal.
You '11 show a little honesty.
Wol. Speak on, sir ;
I dare your worst objections : if I blush,
It is to see a nobleman want manners.
Sur. I'd rather want those than my head.
Have at you !
First, that, without the king's assent or know-
ledge,
You wrought to be a legate ; by which power
You maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops.
SCENE II.]
KING HENRY VIII.
739
Nor. Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or
else
To foreign princes, Ego et Rex meus [king
Was still inscrib'd; in which you brought the
To be your servant.
Suf. Then, that, without the knowledge,
Either of king or council, when you went
Ambassador to the emperor, you made bold
To carry into Flanders the great seal.
Sur. Item, you sent a large commission
To Gregory de Cassalis, to conclude,
Without the king's will or the state's allowance,
A league between his highness and Ferrara.
Suf. That, out of mere ambition, you have
caus'd
Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin.
Sur. Then, that you have sent innumerable
substance, [science,
By what means got I leave to your own con-
To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways
You have for dignities ; to the mere undoing
Of all the kingdom. Many more there are,
Which, since they are of you, and odious,
I will not taint my mouth with.
Cham. O my lord,
Press not a falling man too far ! 'tis virtue :
His faults lie open to the laws ; let them,
Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see
him
So little of his great self.
Sur. I forgive him. [is,
Suf. Lord Cardinal, the king's further pleasure
Because all those things you have done of late,
By your power legatine within this kingdom,
Fall into the compass of a prczmunire,
That therefore such a writ be sued against you;
To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements,
Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be
Out of the king's protection : this is my charge.
Nor. And so we '11 leave you to your medita-
tions
How to live better. For your stubborn answer
About the giving back the great seal to us,
The king shall know it, and, no doubt, shall
thank you.
So fare you well, my little good lord cardinal.
[Exeunt all but WOLSEY.
Wol. So farewell to the little good you bear
me.
Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness !
This is the state of man : to-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope ; to-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him ;
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,
And, when he thinks, good easy man, full
surely
His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This many summers in a sea of glory ;
But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride
At length broke under me ; and now has left me,
Weary and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye :
I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretcnea
Is that poor man that hangs on prince's favours !
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have :
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.
Enter CROMWELL, amazedly.
Why, how now, Cromwell !
Crom. I have no power to speak, sir.
Wol. What, amaz'd
At my misfortunes ? can thy spirit wonder
A great man should decline ? Nay, an you weep,
I am fallen indeed.
Crom. How does your grace ?
Wol. Why, well ;
Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell,
know myself now ; and I feel within me
A peace above all earthly dignities,
A still and quiet conscience. The king has
cur'd me,
I humbly thank his grace ; and from these
shoulders,
These ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken
A load would sink a navy, too much honour :
O, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden
Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven !
Crom. I am glad your grace has made that
right use of it. [thinks,
Wol. I hope I have : I am able now, me-
Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,
To endure more miseries and greater far
Than my weak -hearted enemies dare offer.
What news abroad ?
Crom. The heaviest and the worsj:
Is your displeasure with the king.
Wol. God bless him !
Crom. The next is that Sir Thomas More is
chosen
Lord Chancellor in your place.
Wol. That 's somewhat sudden :
But he 's a learned man. May he continue
Long in his highness' favour, and do justice,
For truth's sake and his conscience ; that his
bones, [ings,
When he has run his course and sleeps in bless-
May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on 'em !
What more ?
/740
KING HENRY VIII.
[ACT iv.
Crotn* That Cramner is return'd with wel-
come,
Install'd Lord Archbishop of Canterbury.
Wol. That 's news indeed.
Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne,
Whom the king hath in secrecy long married,
This day was view'd in open as his queen,
Going to chapel ; and the voice is now
Only about her coronation.
Woli There was the weight that pull'd me
down. O Cromwell,
The king has gone beyond me : all my glories
In that one woman I have lost for ever :
No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours,
Or gild again the noble troops that waited
Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Crom-
well ;
I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now
To be thy lord and master : seek the king ;
That sun, I pray, may never set ! I have told
him [thee ;
What and, how true thou art: he will advance
Some little memory of me will stir him,
I know his noble nature, not to let
Thy hopeful service perish too : good Cromwell,
Neglect him not ; make use now, and provide
For thine own future safety.
Crom. O my lord,
Must I then leave you? must I needs forego
So good, so noble, and so true a master?
Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,
With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.
The king shall have my service ; but my prayers
For ever and for ever shall be yours.
Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear
In all my miseries ; but thou hast forc'd me,
Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.
Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me,
Cromwell ;
And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be,
And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention
Of me more must be heard of, say I taught
thee;
Say Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory,
And sounded all the depths and shoals of hon-
our,
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ;
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it.
Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me.
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition :
By that sin fell the angels; how can man,
then>
The image of his Maker, hope to win by it?
Love thyself last : cherish those hearts that hate
thee;
Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,
To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear
not:
Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,
Thy God's, and truth's ; then, if thou fall'st, O
Cromwell,
Thou fall'st a blessed martyr ! Serve the king ;
And, pr'ythee, lead me in :
There take an inventory of all I have,
To the last penny; 'tis the king's: my robe,
And my integrity to heaven, is all [well !
I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Crom-
Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal
I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.
Crom. Good sir, have patience.
Wol. So I have. Farewell
The hopes of court 1 my hopes in heaven do
dwell. [Exeunt.
ACT IV.
[[6 10
SCENE I. A Street in Westminster.
Enter two Gentlemen, meeting.
1 Gent. You are well met once again.
2 Gent. So are you.
1 Gent. You come to take your stand here,
and behold
The Lady Anne pass from her coronation?
2 Gent. 'Tis all my business. At our last
encounter
The Duke of Buckingham came from his trial.
1 Gent. 'Tis very true : but that time offer'd
sorrow ;
This, general joy.
2 Gent. 'Tis well : the citizens,
I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds ;
As, let 'em have their rights, they are ever
forward,
In celebration of this day with shows,
Pageants, and sights of honour.
1 Gent. Never greater,
Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir. [tains,
2 Gent. May I be bold to ask what that con
That paper in your hand?
1 Gent. Yes ; 'tis the list
Of those that claim their offices this day,
By custom of the coronation.
The Duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims
To be high-steward ; next, the Duke of Norfolk,
He to be earl marshal : you may read the rest.
2 Gent. I thank you, sir; had I not known
those customs,
I should have been beholden to your paper.
But, I beseech you, what 's become of Katharine,
The princess dowager? how goes her business?
SCENE I.]
KING HENRY VIII.
741
1 Gent. That I can tell you too. The Arch-
bishop
Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
Learned and reverend fathers of his order,
Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off
From Ampthill, where the princess lay; to
which
She was often cited by them, but appeared not :
And, to be short, for not appearance and
The king's late scruple, by the main assent
Of all these learned men, she was divorc'd,
And the late marriage made of none effect :
Since which she was remov'd to Kimbolton,
Where she remains now sick.
2 Gent. Alas, good lady !
[Trumpets.
The trumpets sound t stand close, the queen is
coming.
THE ORDER OF THE PROCESSION.
A lively flourish of trumpets '. then enter t
1. Two Judges.
2. Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace before him.
3. Choristers singing. [Music.
4. M ayor of London, bearing the mace. Then Garter, in
his coat of arms, and on his head a gilt copper
crown.
5. Marquis Dorset, bearing a sceptre of gold, on his head
a demt-coronal of gold. With him, the Earl of
Surrey, bearing the rod of silver with the dove,
crowned with an earl's coronet. Collars of SS.
6; Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his coronet on
his head, bearing a long white wand, as high-
steward. With him, the Duke of Norfolk, with
the rod of marshalship, a coronet on his head.
Collars of SS.
7. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports ; under
it the Queen in her rcbe ; her hair richly a-
dorned with pearl, crowned. On each side of
her, the Bishops of London and Winchester.
8. The old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold,
wrought with flowers, bearing the Queen's train.
9. Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain circlets of
gold without flowers.
A royal train, believe me. These I know:
Who's that that bears the sceptre?
1 Gent. Marquis Dorset :
And that the Earl of Surrey, with the rod.
2 Gent. A bold brave gentleman. That
should be
The Duke of Suffolk?
1 Gent. 'Tis the same, high-steward.
2 Gent. And that my Lord of Norfolk?
1 Gent. Yes.
2 Gent. Heaven bless thee !
[Looking on the QUEEN.
Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on.
Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel;
Our king has all the Indies in his arms,
And more and richer, when he strains that lady :
I cannot blame his conscience.
1 Gent. They that bear
The cloth of honour over her are four barons
Of the Cinque-ports.
2 Gent. Those men are happy ; and so are all
are near her.
I take it, she that carries up the train
Is that old noble lady, Duchess of Norfolk.
1 Gent. It is ; and all the rest are countesses.
2 Gent. Their coronets say so. These are
stars indeed ;
And sometimes falling ones.
1 Gent. No more of that.
[Exit Procession, with a great flortrish of
trumpets.
Enter a third Gentleman.
God save you, sir ! where have you been broil-
ing? [a finger
3 Gent. Among the crowd i' the abbey ; where
Could not be wedg'd in more : I am stifled
With the mere rankness of their joy.
2 Gent. You saw
The ceremony?
3 Gent. That I did.
1 Gent. How was it?
3 Gent. Well worth the seeing.
2 Gent. Good sir, speak it to us.
3 Gent. As well as I am able. The rich stream
Of lords and ladies, having brought the queen
To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell off
A distance from her : while her grace sat down
To rest awhile, some half an hour or so,
In a rich chair of state, opposing freely
The beauty of her person to the people.
Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman
That ever lay by man : which when the people
Had the full view of, such a noise arose
As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest,
As loud, and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks,
Doublets, I think, flew up ; and had their faces
Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy
I never saw before. Great-bellied women,
That had not half a week to go, like rams
In the old time of war, would shake the press,
And make 'em reel before 'em. No man living
Could say, This is my wife, there ; all were woven
So strangely in one piece.
2 Gent. But what follow'd?
3 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with
modest paces [saintlike,
Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, and,
Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly.
Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people :
When by the Archbishop of Canterbury
She had all the royal makings of a queen ;
As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,
The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems
742
KING HENRY VIII.
[ACT iv.
Laid nobly on her : which perform'd, the choir,
With all the choicest music of the kingdom,
Together sung Te Deum. So she parted,
And with the same full state pac'd back again
To York Place, where the feast is held.
1 Gent. Sir,
You must no more call it York Place, that's
past:
For, since the cardinal fell, that title 's lost :
'Tis now the king's, and call'd Whitehall.
3 Gent. I know it ;
But 'tis so lately alter'd that the old name
Is fresh about me.
2 Gent. What two reverend bishops
Were those that went on each side of the queen?
3 Gent. Stokesly and Gardiner ; the one of
Winchester,
Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary,
The other, London.
2 Gent. He of Winchester
Is held no great good lover of the archbishop's,
The virtuous Cranmer.
3 Gent. All the land knows that ::
However, yet there is no great breach ; when it
comes, [him.
Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from
2 Gent. Who may that be, I pray you?
3 Gent. Thomas Cromwell ;
A man in much esteem with the king, and truly
A worthy friend. The king
Has made him master o' the jewel-house,
And one, already, of the privy council.
2 Gent. He will deserve more. '
3 Gent. Yes, without all doubt.
Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which
Is to the court, and there ye shall be my
guests :
Something I can command. As I walk thither
I '11 tell ye more.
Both. You may command us, sir.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. Kimbolton.
Enter KATHARINE, Dowager, sick; led between
GRIFFITH and PATIENCE.
Grif. How does your grace ?
Kath. O Griffith, sick to death !
My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the
earth,
Willing to leave their burden. Reach a chair :
So, now, methinks, I feel a little ease, [me,
Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou ledd'st
That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolsey,
Was dead?
Grif. Yes, madam ; but I think your grace,
Out of the pain you suffer 'd, gave no ear to 't.
Kath. Pr'ythee, good Griffith, tell me how
he died :
If well, he stepp'd before me, happily,
For my example.
Grif. Well, the voice goes, madam :
For after the stout Earl Northumberland
Arrested him at York, and brought him for-
ward,
As a man sorely tainted, to his answer,
He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill
He could not sit his mule.
Kath. Alas, poor man !
Grif. At last, with easy roads, he came to
Leicester,
Lodg'd in the abbey ; where the reverend abbot,
With all his covent, honourably receiv'd him ;
To whom he gave these words, O, father abbot,
An old man, broken with the storms of state,
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ;
Give him a little earth for charity !
So went to bed ; where eagerly his sickness
Pursu'd him still : and three nights after this,
About the hour of eight, which he himself
Foretold should be his last, full of repentance,
Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows,
He gave his honours to the world again,
His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.
Kath. So may he rest ; his faults lie gently
on him ! [him,
Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak
And yet with charity. He was a man
Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking
Himself with princes ; one that, by suggestion,
Tied all the kingdom : simony was fair play ;
His own opinion was his law : i' the presence
He would say untruths ; and be ever double
Both in his words and meaning : he was never,
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful :
His promises were, as he then was, mighty ;
But his performance, as he is now, nothing :
Of his own body he was ill, and gave
The clergy ill example.
Grif. Noble madam,
Men's evil manners live in brass ; their virtues
We write in water. May it please your highness
To hear me speak his good now !
Kath. Yes, good Griffith ;
I were malicious else.
Grif. This cardinal,
Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly
Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle.
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one ;
Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading :
Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not ;
But to those men that sought him sweet as
summer.
And though he were unsatisfied in getting,
SCENE II.]
KING HENRY VIII.
743
Which was a sin, yet in bestowing, madam,
He was most princely : ever witness for him
Those twins of learning that he rais'd in you,
Ipswich and Oxford ! one of which fell with him,
Unwilling to outlive the good that did it ;
The other, though unfinished, yet so famous,
So excellent in art, and still so rising,
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.
His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him ;
For then, and not till then, he felt himself,
And found the blessedness of being little :
And, to add greater honours to his age
Than man could give him, he died fearing God.
Kath. After my death I wish no other herald,
No other speaker of my living actions,
To keep mine honour from corruption,
But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.
Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me,
With thy religious truth and modesty,
Now in his ashes honour : peace be with him !
Patience, be near me still ; and set me lower :
I have not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith,
Cause the musicians play me that sad note
I nam'd my knell, whilst I sit meditating
On that celestial harmony I go to.
\_Sad and solemn music.
Grif. She is asleep; good wench, let's sit
down quiet,
For fear we wake her : softly, gentle Patience.
THE VISION. Enter, solemnly tripping one after
another, six Personages clad in white robes, -wear-
ing on their heads garlands of bays, and golden
vizards on their faces; branches of bays or palm
in their hands. They first congee unto her, then
dance; and, at certain changes, the first two hold
a spare garland over her head ; at which the other
four make reverent courtesies; then the two that
held the garland deliver the same to the other next
two, who observe the same order in tJteir changes,
and holding tJie garland over her head : which done,
they deliver the same garland to the last two, who
likewise ebserve the same order: at which, as it
were by inspiration, she makes in her sleep signs
of rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven :
and so in their dancing they vanish, carrying the
garland with them. The music continues.
Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye ? Are
ye all gone ?
And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?
Grif. Madam, we are here.
Kath. It is not you I call for :
Saw ye none enter since I slept ?
Grif. None, madam.
Kath. No? Saw you not, even now, a
blessed troop
Invite me to a banquet ; whose bright faces
Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun ?
They promis'd me eternal happiness ;
And brought me garlands, Griffith, whi
which I feel
I am not worthy yet to wear : I shall,
Assuredly. [dreams
Grif. I am most joyful, madam, such good
Possess your fancy.
Kath. Bid the music leave,
They are harsh and heavy to me. [ Music ceases.
Pat. Do you note
How much her grace is alter'd on the sudden ?
How long her face is drawn? how pale she looks,
And of an earthy cold ? Mark you her eyes !
Grif. She is going, wench : pray, pray.
Pat. Heaven comfort her !
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. An 't like your grace,
Kath. You are a saucy fellow :
Deserve we no more reverence ?
Grif. You are to blame,
Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness,
To use so rude behaviour : go to, kneel.
Mess. I humbly do entreat your highness*
pardon ; [staying
My haste made me unmannerly. There is
A gentleman, sent from the king, to see you.
Kath. Admit him entrance, Griffith : but
this fellow
Let me ne'er see again.
[Exeunt GRIFFITH and Messenger.
Re-enter GRIFFITH, with CAPUCIUS.
If my sight fail not,
You should be lord ambassador from the
emperor,
My royal nephew, and your name Capucius.
Cap. Madam, the same, your servant.
Kath. O, my Lord,
The times and titles now are alter'd strangely
With me since first you knew me. But, I
pray you,
What is your pleasure with me ?
Cap. Noble lady,
First, mine own service to your grace ; the next,
The king's request that I would visit you ;
Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me
Sends you his princely commendations,
And heartily entreats you take good comfort.
Kath. O, my good lord, that comfort comes
too late ;
'Tis like a pardon after execution :
That gentle physic, given in time, had cur'd me ;
But now I am past all comforts here, but
prayers.
How does his highness ?
Cap. Madam, in good health.
Kath. So may he ever do ! and ever flourish,
When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor
744
KING HENRY VIII.
[ACT v.
Banish'd the kingdom ! -Patience, is that letter
I caus'd you write yet sent away ?
Pat. No, madam.
[Giving it to KATHARINE.
Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver
This to my lord the king.
Cap. Most willing, madam.
Kath. In which I have commended to his
goodness [daughter,
The model of our chaste loves, his young
The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on
her!
Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding ;
She is young, and of a noble modest nature,
I hope she will deserve well ; and a little
To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd
him, [petition
Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor
Is, that his noble grace would have some pity
Upon my wretched women, that so long
Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully :
Of which there is not one, I dare avow,
And now I should not lie, but will deserve,
For virtue and true beauty of the soul,
For honesty and decent carriage,
A right good husband, let him be a noble ;
And, sure, those men are happy that shall have
them.
The last is, for my men, they are the poorest,
But poverty could never draw 'em from me,
That they may have their wages duly paid 'em,
And something over to remember me by :
If heaven had pleas'd to have given me longer
life
And able means, we had not parted thus.
These are the whole contents : and, good my
lord,
By that you love the dearest in this world,
As you wish Christian peace to souls departed,
Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the
king
To do me this last right.
Cap. By heaven, I will,
Or let me lose the fashion of a man ! [me
Kath. I thank you, honest lord. Remember
In all humility unto his highness :
Say his long trouble now is passing [him,
Out of this world ; tell him, in death I bless'd
For so I will. Mine eyes grow dim. Farewell,
My lord. Griffith, farewell. Nay, Patience,
You must not leave me yet : I must to bed ;
Call in more women. When I am dead, good
wench,
Let me be us'd with honour : strew me over
With maiden flowers, that all the world may
know
I was a chaste wife to my grave : embalm me,
Then lay me forth : although unqueen'd, yet like
A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.
I can no more. [Exeunt, leading KATHARINE.
ACT V.
: ,li/:i -MK :.-.- , .>'
SCENE I. LONDON. A Gallery in the Palace.
Enter GARDINER, Bishop of Winchester, a
Page with a torch before him.
Gar. It 's one o'clock, boy, is 't not ?
Boy. It has struck.
Gar. These should be hours for necessities,
Not for delights ; times to repair our nature
With comforting repose, and not for us
To waste these times.
Enter SIR THOMAS LOVELL.
Good hour of night, Sir Thomas !
Whither so late ?
Lov. Came you from the king, my Lord?
Gar. I did, Sir Thomas ; and left him at
primero
With the Duke of Suffolk.
Lov. I must to him too,
Before he go to bed, I'll take my leave.
Gar. Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What 's
the matter ?
It seems you are in haste : an if there be
No great offence belongs to 't, give your friend
Some touch of your late business : affairs that
walk,
As they say spirits do, at midnight, have
In them a wilder nature than the business
That seeks despatch by day.
Lov. My lord, I love you ;
And durst commend a secret to your ear
Much weightier than this work. The queen 's
in labour,
They say in great extremity ; and fear'd
She '11 with the labour end.
Gar. The fruit she goes with
I pray for heartily, that it may find [Thomas,
Good time, and live : but for the stock, Sir
I wish it grubb'd up now.
Lov. Methinks I could
Cry thee amen ; and yet my conscience says
She 's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does
Deserve our better wishes.
Gar. But, sir, sir,
Hear me, Sir Thomas: you are a gentleman
Of mine own way; I know you wise, religious;
And, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well,
'Twill not, Sir Thomas Lovell, take 't of me,
Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she,
Sleep in their graves.
SCENE; i.]
KING HENRY VIII.
745
Lou* Now, sir, you speak of two
The most remark'd i' the kingdom. As for
Cromwell, [master
Beside that of the jewel-house, he's made
O' the rolls, and the king's secretary ; further,
sir,
Stands in the gap and trade of more preferments,
With which the time will load him. The arch-
bishop [speak
Is the king's hand and tongue ; and who dare
One syllable against him ?
Gar. Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,
There are that dare ; and I myself have ventur'd
To speak my mind of him : and indeed this day,
Sir, I may tell it you, I think I have
Incens'd the lords o' the council, that he is,
For so I know he is, they know he is,
A most arch heretic, a pestilence [moved,
That does infect the land : with which they
Have broken with the king ; who hath so far
Given ear to our complaint, of his great grace
And princely care; foreseeing those fell mischiefs
Our reasons laid before him, hath commanded
To-morrow morning to the council-board
He be convented. He's a rank weed, Sir
Thomas,
And we must root him out. From your affairs
I hinder you too long : good night, Sir Thomas.
Lov. Many good nights, my lord : I rest your
servant.
[Exeunt GARDINER and Page.
As LOVELL is going out, enter the KING and the
DUKE OF SUFFOLK.
K. Hen. Charles, I will play no more to-night;
My mind 's not on 't ; you are too hard for me.
Suf. Sir, I did never win of you before.
K. Hen. But little, Charles ;
Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play.
Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the news?
Lov. I could not personally deliver to her
What you commanded me, but by her woman
I sent your message ; who return d her thanks
In the greatest humbleness, and desir'd your
highness
Most heartily to pray for her.
K. Hen. What say'st thou, ha?
To pray for her ? what, is she crying out ?
Lov. So said her woman : and that her suffer-
ance made
Almost each pang a death.
K. Hen. Alas, good lady !
Suf. God safely quit her of her burden, and
With gentle travail, to the gladding of
Your highness with an heir !
K. Hen. J Tis midnight, Charles ;
Pr'ythee, to bed ; and in thy prayers remember
The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone ;
For I must think of that which company
Will not be friendly to.
Suf. I wish your highness
A quiet night ; and my good mistress will
Remember in my prayers.
K. Hen. Charles, good-night.
[Exit SUFFOLK.
Enter SIR ANTHONY DENNY.
Well, sir, what follows ? [bishop,
Den. Sir, I have brought my lord the arch-
As you commanded me.
K. Hen. Ha ! Canterbury?
Den. Ay, my good lord.
K. Hen. 'Tistrue: where is he, Denny?
Den. He attends your highness' pleasure.
K. Hen. Bring him to us.
[Exit DENNY.
Lov. This is about that which the bishop
spake:
I am happily come hither. [Aside.
Re-enter DENNY, with CRANMER.
K. Hen. Avoid the gallery.
[LOVELL seems to stay.
Ha ! I have said. Be gone.
What ! [Exeunt LOVELL and DENNY.
Cran. I am fearful : wherefore frowns he
thus?
'Tis his aspect of terror. All 's not well. [Aside.
K. Hen. How now, my lord ? you do desire
to know
Wherefore I sent for you.
Cran. It is my duty
To attend your highness' pleasure.
K. Hen. Pray you, arise,
My good and gracious Lord of Canterbury.
Come, you and I must walk a turn together ;
I have news to tell you : come, come, give me
your hand.
Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak,
And am right sorry to repeat what follows :
I have, and most unwillingly, of late
Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord,
Grievous complaints of you ; which, being
consider 'd,
Have movM us and our council that you shall
This morning come before us ; where, I know,
You cannot with such freedom purge yourself
But that, till further trial in those charges
Which will require your answer, you must take
Your patience to you, and be well contented
To make your house our Tower: you a brother
of us,
It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness
Would come against you.
746
KING HENRY VIII.
[ACT v.
Cran. I humbly thank your highness ;
And am right glad to catch this good occasion
Most throughly to be winnow'd, where my chaff
And corn shall fly asunder : for I know
There's none stands under more calumnious
tongues
Than I myself, poor man.
K. Hen. Stand up, good Canterbury :
Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted
In us, thy friend : give me thy hand, stand up :
Pr'ythee, let 's walk. Now, by my holy-dame,
What manner of man are you? My lord, I
look'd
You would have given me your petition that
I should have ta'en some pains to bring together
Yourself and your accusers ; and to have heard
you,
Without indurance, further.
Cran. Most dread liege,
The good I stand on is my truth and honesty :
If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies, [not,
Will triumph o'er my person ; which I weigh
Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing
What can be said against me.
K. Hen. Know you not
How your state stands i'the world, with the
whole world ?
Your enemies are many, and not small j their
practices
Must bear the same proportion ; and not ever
The justice and the truth o' the question carries
The due o' the verdict with it : at what ease
Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt
To swear against you ? such things have been
done.
You are potently oppos'd ; and with a malice
Of as great size. Ween you of better luck,
I mean in perjur'd witness, than your Master,
Whose minister you are, whiles here he liv'd
Upon this naughty earth ? Go to, go to ;
You take a precipice for no leap of danger,
And woo your own destruction.
Cran. God and your majesty
Protect mine innocence, or I fall into
The trap is laid for me !
K. Hen. Be of good cheer ;
They shall no more prevail than we give way to.
Keep comfort to you ; and this morning see
You do appear before them: if they shall chance,
In charging you with matters, to commit you,
The best persuasions to the contrary
Fail not to use, and with what vehemency
The occasion shall instruct you : if entreaties
Will render you no remedy, this ring
Deliver them, and your appeal to us
There make before them. Look, the good
mam weeps !
He 's honest, on mine honour. God's bless'd
mother !
I swear he is true-hearted ; and a soul
None better in my kingdom. Get you gone,
And do as I have bid you. [Exit CRANMER.]
He has strangled
His language in his tears.
Enter an Old Lady.
Gent. [ Within.~\ Come back: what mean you?
Old L. I '11 not come back ; the tidings that
I bring [angels
Will make my boldness manners. Now, good
Fly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person
Under their blessed wings !
K. Hen. Now, by thy looks
I guess thy message. Is the queen deliver'd ?
Say ay ; and of a boy.
Old L. Ay, ay, my
And of a lovely boy : the God of Heaven
Ay, ay, my liege ;
Both now and ever bless her ! 'tis a girl,
Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen
Desires your visitation, and to be
Acquainted with this stranger ; 'tis as like you
As cherry is to cherry.
K. Hen. Lovell,
Re-enter LOVELL.
IrtI
Lov. Sir ?
K. Hen. Give her an hundred marks. I '11
to the queen [Exit.
Old L. An hundred marks ! By this light,
I '11 ha' more.
An ordinary groom is for such payment.
I will have more, or scold it out of him.
Said I for this, the girl was like to him ?
I will have more, or else unsay 't ; and now,
While it is hot, I '11 put it to the issue.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. Lobby before the Council Chamber.
Enter CRANMER; Servants, Door-keeper, &c.,
attending.
Cran. I hope I am not too late ; and yet the
gentleman
That was sent to me from the council pray'd me
To make great haste. All fast? what means
this? Ho!
Who waits there ? Sure, you know me ?
D. Keep. Yes, my lord ;
But yet I cannot help you.
Cran. Why?
D. Keep. Y
Keep. Your grace must wait till you be
call'd for.
Enter DOCTOR BUTTS.
Cran. So.
SCENE II.]
KING HENRY VIII.
747
Butts. [Aside.] This is a piece of malice. I
am glad
I came this way so happily : the king
Shall understand it presently. [Exit.
Cran. [Aside.'] 'Tis Butts,
The King's physician : as he pass'd along,
How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me !
Pray, heaven, he sound not my disgrace ! For
certain,
This is of purpose laid by some that hate me,
God turn their hearts ! I never sought their
malice, [make me
To quench mine honour : they would shame to
Wait else at door, a fellow-counseilor,
Among boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their
pleasuies
Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience.
The KING awaTBuTTS appear at a window above.
Butts. I'll show your grace the strangest
sight,
K. Hen. What's that, Butts?
Butts. I think your highness saw this many
a day.
K. Hen. Body o' me, where is it ?
Butts. There my lord :
The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury ;
Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pur-
suivants,
Pages, and footboys.
K. Hen. Ha ! 'tis he indeed :
Is this the honour they do one another ?
'Tis well there's one above them yet. I had
thought
They had parted so much honesty among 'em,
At least good manners, as not thus to suffer
A man of his place, and so near our favour,
To dance attendance on their lordships' plea-
sures,
And at the door too, like a post with packets.
By holy Mary, Butts, there s knavery :
Let 'em alone, and draw the curtain close ;
We shall hear more anon. \Exeunt.
The Cotmcil Chamber.
Enter the Lord Chancellor, the DUKE OF SUF-
FOLK, the DUKE OF NORFOLK, EARL OF
SURREY, Lord Chamberlain, GARDINER,
and CROMWELL. The Chancellor places
himself at the upper end of the table on the
left hand ; a seat being left void above him,
as for the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY.
The rest seat themselves in order on each side.
CROMWELL at the lower end, as Secretary.
Chan. Speak to the business, master secre-
tary :
Why are we met in council ?
Crom. Please your honours,
The chief cause concerns his grace of Canter-
bury.
Gar. Has he had knowledge of it ?
Crom. Yes.
Nor. Who waits there ?
D. Keep. Without, my noble lords?
Gar. Yes.
D. Keep. My lord archbishop ;
And has done half an hour, to know your
pleasures.
Chan. Let him come in.
D. Keep. Your grace may enter now.
[CRAN. approaches the Council-table.
Chan. My good lord archbishop, I am very
sorry
To sit here at this present, and behold
That chair stand empty : but we all are men,
In our own natures frail, and capable
Of our flesh ; few are angels : out of which
frailty [teach us,
And want of wisdom, you, that best should
Have misdemean'd yourself, and not a little,
Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling
The whole realm, by your teaching and your
chaplains,
For so we are inform'd, with new opinions,
Divers and dangerous ; which are heresies,
And, not reform'd, may prove pernicious.
Gar. Which reformation must be sudden too,
My noble lords ; for those that tame wild horses
Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle,
But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and
spur 'em,
Till they obey the manage. If we suffer,
Out of our easiness, and childish pity
To one man's honour, this contagious sickness,
Farewell all physic : and what follows then ?
Commotions, uproars, with a general taint
Of the whole state : as, of late days, our neigh-
bours,
The upper Germany, can dearly witness,
Yet freshly pitied in our memories. [gress
Crcn. My good lords, hitherto in all the pro-
Both of my life and office, I have labour'd,
And with no little study, that my teaching
And the strong course of my authority
Might go one way, and safely ; and the end
Was ever to do well : nor is there living,
I speak it with a single heart, my lords,
A man that more detests, more stirs against,
Both in his private conscience and his place,
Defacers of a public peace, than I do.
Pray heaven, the king may never find a heart
With less allegiance in it ! Men that make
Envy and crooked malice nourishment
Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships
748
KING HENRY VIII.
[ACT v.
That, in this case of justice, my accusers,
Be what they will, may stand forth face to face,
And freely urge against me.
Suf. Nay, my lord,
That cannot be : you are a counsellor,
And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you.
Gar. My lord, because we have business of
more moment, [pleasure,
We will be short with you. 'Tis his highness'
And our consent, for better trial of you,
From hence you be committed to the Tower ;
Where, being but a private man again,
You shall know many dare accuse you boldly,
More than, I fear, you are provided for.
Cran. Ah, my good Lord of Winchester, I
thank you ; [pass
You are always my good friend ; if your will
I shall both find your lordship judge and juror,
You are so merciful : I see your end,
'Tis my undoing : love and meekness, lord,
Become a churchman better than ambition :
Win straying souls with modesty again,
Cast none away. That I shall clear myself,
Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience,
I make as little doubt as you do conscience
In doing daily wrongs. I could say more,
But reverence to your calling makes me modest.
Gar. My lord, my lord, you are a sectary.
That 's the plain truth : your painted gloss dis-
covers, [ness.
To men that understand you, words and weak-
Crom. My Lord of Winchester, you are a little,
By your good favour, too sharp ; men so noble,
However faulty, yet should find respect
For what they have been : 'tis a cruelty
To load a falling man.
Gar. Good master secretary,
I cry your honour mercy ; you may, worst
Of all this table, say so.
Crom. Why, my lord?
Gar. Do not I know you for a favourer
Of this new sect ? ye are not sound.
Crom. Not sound ?
Gar. Not sound, I say.
Crom. Would you were half so honest !
Men's prayers then would seek you, not their
fears.
Gar. I shall remember this bold language.
Crom. Do.
Remember your bold life too.
Chan. This is too much ;
Forbear, for shame, my lords.
Gar. I have done.
Crom. And I.
Chan. Then thus for you, my lord : it stands
agreed,
I take it, by all voices, that forthwith
You be conveyed to the Tower a prisoner ;
There to remain till the king's further pleasure
Be known unto us : are you all agreed, lords ?
All. We are.
Cran. Is there no other way of mercy,
But I must needs to the Tower, my lords ?
Gar. What other
Would you expect ? You are strangely trouble-
some.
Let some o' the guard be ready there.
Enter Guard.
Cran. For me ?
Must I go like a traitor thither ?
Gar. Receive him,
And see him safe i' the Tower.
Cran. Stay, good my lords,
I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords j
By virtue of that ring I take my cause
Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it
To a most noble judge, the king my master.
Cham. This is the king's ring.
Sur. 'Tis no counterfeit.
Suf. 'Tis the right ring, by heaven : I told ye
all,
When we first put this dangerous stone a-rolling,
'T would fall upon ourselves.
Nor. Do you think, my lords,
The king will suffer but the little finger
Of this man to be vex'd ?
Chan. 'Tis now too certain :
How much more is his life in value with him ?
Would I were fairly out on 't !
Crom. My mind gave me,
In seeking tales and informations
Against this man, whose honesty the devil
And his disciples only envy at,
Ye blew the fire that burns ye : now have at ye.
Enter the KING frowning on them ; he takes
his seat.
Gar. Dread sovereign, how much are we
bound to heaven
In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince ;
Not only good and wise, but most religious ;
One that, in all obedience, makes the church
The chief aim of his honour ; and, to strengthen
That holy duty, out of dear respect,
His royal self in judgment comes to hear
The cause betwixt her and this great offender.
K. Hen. You were ever good at sudden
commendations,
Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not
To hear such flattery now, and in my presence ;
They are too thin and bare to hide offences.
To me you cannot reach : you play the spaniel,
And think with wagging of your tongue to win
me;
SCENE II.]
KING HENRY VIII.
749
But whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I am sure
Thou hast a cruel nature, and a bloody.
Good man [to CRANMER], sit down. Now let
me see the proudest,
He that dares most, but wag his finger at thee :
By all that 's holy, he had better starve
Than but once think this place becomes thee not.
Sur. May it please your grace,
K, Hen. No, sir, it does not please me.
I had thought I had had men of some under-
standing
And wisdom of my council ; but I find none.
Was it discretion, lords, to let this man,
This good man, few of you deserve that title,
This honest man, wait like a lousy footboy
At chamber door? and one as great as you are?
Why, what a shame was this ! Did my com-
mission
Bid ye so far forget yourselves ? I gave ye
Power as he was a counsellor to try him,
Not as a groom : there 's some of ye, I see,
More out of malice than integrity,
Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean ;
Which ye shall never have while I live.
Chan. Thus far,
My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace
To let my tongue excuse all. What was purpos'd
Concerning his imprisonment was rather,
If there be faith in men, meant for his trial,
And fair purgation to the world, than malice,
I 'm sure in me.
K. Hen. Well, well, my lords, respect him;
Take him, and use him well, he 's worthy of it.
I will say thus much for him, if a prince
May be beholding to a subject, I
Am, for his love and service, so to him.
Make me no more ado, but all embrace him :
Be friends, for shame, my lords ! My Lord of
Canterbury,
I have a suit which you must not deny me ;
That is, afair young maid that yet wants baptism,
You must be godfather, and answer for her.
Cran. The greatest monarch now alive may
glory
In such an honour : how may I deserve it,
That am a poor and humble subject to you ?
K. Hen. Come, come, my lord, you 'd spare
your spoons : you shall have
Two noble partners with you : the old Duchess
of Norfolk [you ?
And Lady Marquis Dorset : will these please
Oncemore,my Lord of Winchester, I charge you,
Embrace and love this man.
Gar. With a true heart
And brother-love I do it.
Cran. And let heaven
Witness how dear I hold this confirmation.
K. Hen. Good man, those joyful tears show
thy true heart :
The common voice, I see, is verified
Of thee, which says thus,- Do my Lord of
Canterbury
A shrewd turn, and he is your friend for ever.
Come, lords, we trifle time away ; I long
To have this young one made a Christian.
As I have made ye one, lords, one remain ;
So I grow stronger, you more honour gain.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. The Palace Yard.
Noise and tumult "within. Enter Porter and
his Man.
Port. You '11 leave your noise anon, ye
rascals: do you take the court for Paris garden?
ye rude slaves, leave your gaping.
[Within.] Good master porter, I belong to
the larder.
Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hanged,
you rogue ! is this a place to roar in ? Fetch
me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones :
these are but switches to them. I '11 scratch
your heads : you must be seeing christenings?
do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude
rascals ?
Man. Pray, sir, be patient : 'tis as much
impossible, [cannons,
Unless we sweep them from the door with
To scatter 'em as 'tis to make 'em sleep
On May-day morning ; which will never be :
We may as well push against Paul's as stir 'em.
Port. How got they in, and be hang'd ?
Man. Alas, I know not ; how gets the tide in?
As much as one sound cudgel of four foot,
You see the poor remainder, could distribute,
I made no spare, sir.
Port. You did nothing, sir.
Man. I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor
Colbrand, [any
To mow 'em down before me : but if I spar'd
That had a head to hit, either young or old,
He or she, cuckold or cuckold -maker,
Let me ne'er hope to see a chine again ;
And that I would not for a cow, God save her!
[Within.] Do you hear, master porter?
Port. I shall be with you presently, good
master puppy. Keep the door close, sirrah.
Man. What would you have me do ?
Port. What should you do, but knock them
down by the dozens? Is this Moorfields to
muster in? or have we some strange Indian
with the great tool come to court, the women
so besiege us ? Bless me, what a fry of fornica-
tion is at door I On my Christian conscience,
750
KING HENRY VIII.
[ACT V.'
this one christening will beget a thousand :
here will be father, godfather, and all together.
Man. The spoons will be the bigger, sir.
There is a fellow somewhat near the door, he
should be a brazier by his face, for, o' my con-
science, twenty of the dog-days now reign in 's
nose ; all that stand about him are under the
line, they need no other penance : that fire-drake
did I hit three times on the head, and three
times was his nose discharged against me ; he
stands there, like a mortar-piece, to blow us.
There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit
near him, that railed upon me till her pink'd
porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a
combustion in the state. I miss'd the meteor
once, and hit that woman, who cried out Clubs!
when I might see from far some forty trun-
cheoners draw to her succour, which were the
hope of the Strand, where she was quartered.
They fell on ; I made good my place : at length
they came to the broomstaff to me ; I defied
them still : when suddenly a file of boys behind
them, loose shot, delivered such a shower of
pebbles, that I was fain to draw mine honour
in, and let them win the work : the devil was
amongst them, I think, surely.
Port. These are the youths that thunder at a
play-house and fight for bitten apples ; that, no
audience, but the Tribulation of Tower-hill or
the limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers,
are able to endure. I have some of them in
Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to
dance these three days ; besides the running
banquet of two beadles that is to come.
Enter the Lord Chamberlain.
Cham. Mercy o'me, what a multitude are
here ! [coming,
They grow still too ; from all parts they are
As if we kept a fair here ! Where are these
porters,
These lazy knaves? Ye have made a fine hand,
fellows.
There 's a trim rabble let in : are all these
Your faithful friends o' the suburbs ? We shall
have [ladies,
Great store of room, no doubt, left for the
When they pass back from the christening.
Port. An ; t please your honour,
We are but men ; and what so many may do,
Not being torn a pieces, we have done :
An army cannot rule 'em.
Cham. As I live,
If the king blame me for 't, I '11 lay ye all
By the heels, and suddenly ; and on your heads
Clap round fines for neglect : you 're lazy knaves;
And here ye lie baiting of bombards, when
Ye should do service. Hark ! the trumpets
sound ;
They are come already from the christening :
Go, break among the press, and find a way out
To let the troop pass fairly ; or I '11 find
A Marshalsea shall hold you play these two
months.
Port. Make way there for the princess.
Man. You great fellow,
Stand close up, or 1 : 11 make your head ache.
Port. You i' the camlet, get up o' the rail ;
I '11 pick you o'er the pales else. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. The Palace.
Enter trumpets, sounding; then two Aldermen,
Lord Mayor, Garter, CRANMER, DUKE OF
NORFOLK, with his marshal's staff, DUKE
OF SUFFOLK, two Noblemen bearing great
standing-bowls for the christening gifts ; then
four Noblemen bearing a canopy, tinder which
the DUCHESS OF NORFOLK, godmother,
bearing the child richly habited in a mantle,
SrV. Train borne by a Lady ; then follows
the MARCHIONESS OF DORSET, the other
godmother, and Ladies. The troop pass once
about the stage, and Garter speaks.
Gart. Heaven, from thy endless goodness,
send prosperous life, long, and ever-happy, to
the high and mighty princess of England,
Elizabeth !
Flourish. Enter KlNG and Train.
Cran. [Kneeling.] And to your royal grace
and the good queen,
My noble partners and myself thus pray ;
All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady,
Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy,
May hourly fall upon ye !
K. Hen. Thank you, good lord archbishop*
What is her name ?
Cran. Elizabeth.
K. Hen. Stand up, lord.
[The KING kisses the child.
With this kiss take my blessing : God protect
thee!
Into whose hand I give thy life.
Cran. Amen.
K. Hen. My noble gossips, ye have been
too prodigal.
I thank ye heartily ; so shall this lady,
When she has so much English.
Cran. Let me speak, sir,
For heaven now bids me ; and the words I utter
Let none think flattery, for they '11 find 'em truth.
This royal infant, Heaven still move about
her !
SCENE IV.]
KING HENRY VIII.
751
Though in her cradle, yet now promises
Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings,
Which time shall bring to ripeness : she shall
be,
But few now living can behold that goodness,
A pattern to all princes living with her,
And all that shall succeed : Saba was never
More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue
Than this pure soul shall be : all princely graces,
That mould up such a mighty piece as this is,
With all the virtues that attend the good,
Shall still be doubled on her : truth shall nurse
her,
Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her :
She shall be lov'd and fear'd : her own shall
bless her ;
Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn,
And hang their heads with sorrow : good grows
with her :
In her days every man shall eat in safety,
Under his own vine, what he plants ; and sing
The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours :
God shall be truly known ; and those about her
From her shall read the perfect ways of honour,
And by those claim their greatness, not by blood.
Nor shall this peace sleep with her : but as when
The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix,
Her ashes new create another heir,
As great in admiration as herself;
So shall she leave her blessedness to one,
When heaven shall call her from this cloud of
darkness,
Who from the sacred ashes of her honour
Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was,
And so stand fix'd : peace, plenty, love, truth,
terror,
That were the servants to this chosen infant,
Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him :
Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,
His honour and the greatness of his name
Shall be, and make new nations : he shall
flourish,
And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches
To all the plains about him : our children's
children
Shall see this and bless Heaven.
K. Hen. Thou speak'st wonders.
Cran. She shall be, to the happiness of
England,
An aged princess ; many days shall see her,
And yet no day without a deed to crown it.
Would I had known no more ! but she must die,
She must, the saints must have her, yet a
virgin ;
A most unspotted lily shall she pass
To the ground, and all the world shall mourn
her.
K. Hen. O lord archbishop,
Thou hast made me now a man ; never, before
This happy child, did I get anything :
This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me
That when I am in heaven I shall desire
To see what this child does, and praise my
Maker.
I thank ye all. To you, my good lord mayor,
And you, good brethren, I am much beholding;
I have received much honour by your presence,
And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way,
lords : [ye,
Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank
She will be sick else. This day, no man think
Has business at his house ; for all shall stay :
This little one shall make it holiday. [Exeunt.
EPILOGUE.
'Tis ten to one this play can never please
All that are here : some come to take their ease,
And sleep an act or two ; but those, we fear,
We have frightened with our trumpets ; so, 'tis
clear,
They'll say 'tis naught : others to hear the city
Abus'd extremely, and to cry, T&at's witty!
Which we have not done neither : that, I fear,
All the expected good we 're like to hear
For this play at this time, is only in
The merciful construction of good women ;
For such a one we show'd 'em : if they smile,
And say 'twill do, I know, within awhile
All the best men are ours ; for 'tis ill hap
If they hold when their ladies bid 'em clap.
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
PRIAM, King of Troy.
HECTOR,
TROILUS,
PARIS, \his Sons.
DEIPHOBUS,
HELENUS,
M ARGARELON, a bastard Son of PRIAM,
CALCHAS, a Trojan Priest t taking part with
the Greeks.
PANDARUS, Uncle to CRESSIDA.
AGAMEMNON, the Grecian General.
MENELAUS, his Brother.
A '~ H J LLES ' ) Grecian Commanders.
AJAX, J
~
Commanders.
ULYSSES,
NESTOR,
DIOMEDES,
PATROCLUS,
THERSITES, a deformed and scurrilous Grecian*
ALEXANDER, Servant to CRESSIDA.
Servant to TROILUS.
Servant to PARIS.
Servant to DIOMEDES.
HELEN, Wife to MENELAUS.
ANDROMACHE, Wife to HECTOR.
CASSANDRA, Daughter to PRIAM, a Prophetess.
CRESSIDA, Daughter to CALCHAS.
Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants.
SCENE, TROY, and the Grecian Camp before it.
PROLOGUE.
In Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of
Greece
The princes orgulous, their high blood chaf'd,
Have to the port of Athens sent their ships,
Fraught with the ministers and instruments
Of cruel war : sixty and nine, that wore
Their crownets regal, from the Athenian bay
Put forth toward Phrygia : and their vow is
made
To ransack Troy ; within whose strong immures
The ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen,
With wanton Paris sleeps ; and that 's the
quarrel.
To Tenedos they come ;
And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge
Their warlike fraughtage : now on Dardan plains
The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch
eir brave pavilions : Priam's six-gated city,
rdan, and Tymbria, Helias, Chetas, Troien,
And Antenorides, with massy staples
And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts,
Sperr up the sons of Troy.
Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits,
On one and other side, Trojan and Greek,
Sets all on hazard : and hither am I come
A prologue arm'd, but not in confidence
Of author's pen or actor's voice ; but suited
In like conditions as our argument,
To tell you, fair beholders, that our play
Leaps o'er the vaunt and firstlings of those
broils,
Beginning in the middle ; starting thence away
To what may be digested in a play.
Like, or find fault ; do as your pleasures are ;
Now good or bad, 'tis but the chance of war.
ACT I.
SCENE I. TROY. Before PRIAM'S Palace.
Enter TROILUS armed, and PANDARUS.
Tro. Call here my varlet ; I '11 unarm again :
Why should I war without the walls of Troy,
That find such cruel battle here within ?
Each Trojan that is master of his heart,
Let him to field ; Troilus, alas ! hath none.
Pan. Will this gear ne'er be mended ?
Tro. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to
their strength, [valiant ;
Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness
But I am weaker than a woman's tear,
Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance,
Less valiant than the virgin in the night,
And skilless as unpractis'd infancy.
Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this :
SCENE L]
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
753
for my part, I '11 not meddle nor make no
further. He that will have a cake out of the
wheat must needs tarry the grinding.
Tro. Have I not tarried?
Pan. Ay, the grinding ; but you must tarry
the bolting.
Tro. Have I not tarried ?
Pan. Ay, the bolting ; but you must tarry
the leavening.
Tro. Still have I tarried.
Pan. Ay, to the leavening ; but here 's yet
in the word hereafter, the kneading, the making
of the cake, the heating of the oven, and the
baking ; nay, you must stay the cooling too, or
you may chance to burn your lips. [be,
Tro. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she
Doth lesser blench at sufferance than I do.
At Priam's royal table do I sit ;
And when fair Cressid conies into my thoughts,
So, traitor! when she comes! When is she
thence ?
Pan. Well, she looked yesternight fairer than
ever I saw her look, or any woman else.
Tro. I was about to tell thee, when my heart,
As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain ;
Lest Hector or my father should perceive me,
I have, as when the sun doth light a storm,
Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile :
But sorrow that is couch'd in seeming gladness
Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.
Pan. An her hair were not somewhat darker
than Helen's, well, go to, there were no more
comparison between the women, but, for my
part, she is my kinswoman ; I would not, as
they term it, praise her, but I would some-
body had heard her talk yesterday, as I did.
I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit ;
but,
Tro. O Pandarus ! I tell thee, Pandarus,
When I do tell thee there my hopes lie drown'd,
Reply not in how many fathoms deep
They lie indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad
In Cressid's love : thou answer'st, she is fair ;
Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart [voice ;
Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her
Handiest in thy discourse, O, that her hand,
In whose comparison all whites are ink,
Writing their own reproach; to whose soft
seizure
The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense
Hard as the palm of ploughman ! This thou
tell'st me,
As true thou tell'st me, when I say I love her ;
But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm, [me
Thou la/st in every gash that love hath given
jThe knife that made it.
S .Pan. I speak no more than truth.
Tro. Thou dost not speak so much.
Pan. Faith, I '11 not meddle in 't. Let her
be as she is : if she be fair, 'tis the better for
her ; an she be not, she has the mends in her
own hands.
Tro. Good Pandarus, how now, Pandarus !
Pan. I have had my labour for my travail ;
ill-thought on of her, and ill-thought on of you :
gone between and between, but small thanks
for my labour.
Tro. What, art thou angry, Pandarus ?
what, with me ?
Pan. Because she is kin to me, therefore
she 's not so fair as Helen : an she were not kin
to me, she would be as fair on Friday as Helen
is on Sunday. But what care I ? I care not
an she were a blackamoor ; 'tis all one to me.
Tro. Say I, she is not fair ?
Pan. I do not care whether you do or no.
She 's a fool to stay behind her father ; let her
to the Greeks; and so I'll tell her the next
time I see her : for my part, I Ml meddle nor
make no more in the matter.
Tro. Pandarus,
Pan. Not I.
Tro. Sweet Pandarus,
Pan. Pray you, speak no more to me : I
will leave all as I found it, and there an end.
[Exit. An alarum.
Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamours ! peace,
rude sounds !
Fools on both sides ! Helen must needs be fair,
When with your blood you daily paint her thus.
I cannot fight upon this argument ;
It is too starv'd a subject for my sword.
But Pandarus, O gods, how do you plague
mel
I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar ;
And he 's as tetchy to be woo'd to woo
As she is stubborn -chaste against all suit.
Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,
What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we ?
Her bed is India ; there she lies, a pearl :
Between our Ilium and where she resides
Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood ;
Ourself the merchant ; and this sailing Pandar
Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.
Alarum. Enter /ENEAS.
&ne. How now, Prince Troilus! wherefore
not afield? [sorts,
Tro. Because not there : this woman's answer
For womanish it is to be from thence.
What news, /Eneas, from the field to-day ?
sne. That Paris is returned home, and hurt,
Tro. By whom, ^!neas ?
Troilus, by Menelaus.
754
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA
[ACT i.
Tro. Let Paris bleed : 'tis but a scar to scorn ;
Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn. {Alarum.
^ne. Hark, what good sport is out of town
to-day !
Tro. Better at home, if would I might were
may. [thither ?
But to the sport abroad ; are you bound
sne. In all swift haste.
Tro. Come, go we, then, together.
{Exeunt.
SCENE II. TROY. A Street.
Enter CRESSIDA and ALEXANDER.
Cres. Who were those went by ?
Alex. Queen Hecuba and Helen.
Cres. And whither go they ?
Alex. Up to the eastern tower,
Whose height commands as subject all the vale,
To see the battle. Hector, whose patience
Is as a virtue fix'd, to-day was mov'd :
He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer ;
And, like as there were husbandry in war,
Before the sun rose he was harness'd light,
And to the field goes he ; where every flower
Did, as a prophet, weep what it foresaw
In Hector's wrath.
Cres. What was his cause of anger ?
Alex. The noise goes, this : there is among
the Greeks
A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector ;
They call him Ajax.
Cres. Good ; and what of him ?
Alex. They say he is a very man per se,
And stands alone.
Cres. So do all men, unless they are drunk,
sick, or have no legs.
Alex. This man, lady, hath robbed many
beasts of their particular additions : he is as
valiant as the lion, churlish as the bear, slow
as the elephant : a man into whom nature hath
so crowded humours that his valour is crushed
into folly, his folly sauced with discretion : there
is no man hath a virtue that he hath not a glimpse
of ; nor any man an attaint, but he carries some
stain of it : he is melancholy without cause, and
merry against the hair : he hath the joints of
everything ; but everything so out of joint that
he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and no use ;
or purblind Argus, all eyes and no sight.
Cres. But how should this man, that makes
me smile, make Hector angry ?
Alex. They say he yesterday coped Hector
in the battle, and struck him down ; the disdain
and shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector
fasting and waking.
Cres. Who comes here ?
Akx. Madam, your uncle Pandarus.
Enter PANDARUS.
Cres. Hector 's a gallant man.
Alex. As may be in the world, lady.
Pan. What 's that ? what 's that ?
Cres. Good-morrow, uncle Pandarus.
Pan. Good-morrow, cousin Cressid: what
do you talk of? Good-morrow, Alexander.
How do you, cousin ? When were you at Ilium ?
Cres. This morning, uncle.
Pan. What were you talking of when I came ?
Was Hector armed and gone ere ye came to
Ilium ? Helen was not up, was she ?
Cres. Hector was gone ; but Helen was not
up.
Pan. E'en so : Hector was stirring early.
Cres. That were we talking of, and of his
anger.
Pan. Was he angry ?
Cres. So he says here.
Pan. True, he was so ; I know the cause too ;
he '11 lay about him to-day, I can tell them that :
and there is Troilus will not come far behind
him ; let them take heed of Troilus, I can tell
them that too.
Cres. What, is he angry too ?
Pan. Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better
man of the two.
Cres. O Jupiter ! there 's no comparison.
Pan. What, not between Troilus and Hector?
Do you know a man if you see him ?
Cres. Ay, if I ever saw him before, and knew
him.
Pan. Well, I say Troilus is Troilus.
Cres. Then you say as I say ; for I am sure
he is not Hector.
Pan. No, nor Hector is not Troilus in some
degrees.
Cres. 'Tis just to each of them ; he is himself.
Pan. Himself ! Alas, poor Troilus ! I would
he were,
Cres. So he is.
Pan. Condition, I had gone barefoot to India.
Cres. He is not Hector.
Pan. Himself ! no, he 's not himself, would
'a were himself! Well, the gods are above;
time must friend or end : well, Troilus, well,
I would my heart were in her body ! No,
Hector is not a better man than Troilus.
Cres. Excuse me.
Pan. He is elder.
Cres. Pardon me, pardon me.
Pan. The other 's not come to 't ; you shall
tell me another tale when the other 's come to 't.
Hector shall not have his wit this year,
Cres. He shall not need it if he have his own.
Pan. Nor his qualities,
SCEXI. ii.]
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
755
Cres. No matter.
Pan. Nor his beauty.
Cres. Twould not become him, his own 's
better.
Pan. You have no judgment, niece : Helen
herself swore the other day that Troilus, for a
brown favour, for so 'tis, I must confess,
not brown neither,
Cres. No, but brown.
Pan. Faith, to say truth, brown and not
brown.
Cres. To say the truth, true and not true.
Pan. She praised his complexion above
Paris.
Cres. Why, Paris hath colour enough.
Pan. So he has.
Cres. Then Troilus should have too much :
'if she praised him above, his complexion is
higher than his ; he having colour enough, and
the other higher, is too flaming a praise for a
good complexion. I had as lief Helen's golden
tongue had commended Troilus for a copper
nose.
Pan. I swear to you I think Helen loves him
better than Paris.
Cres. Then she 's a merry Greek indeed.
Pan. Nay, I am sure she does. She came
tohim the other day into the compassed window,
and, you know, he has not past three or four
hairs on his chin,
Cres. Indeed, a tapster's arithmetic may soon
bring his particulars therein to a total.
Pan. Why, he is very young : and yet will
he, within three pounds, lift as much as his
brother Hector.
Cres. Is he so young a man and so old a
lifter?
Pan. But to prove to you that Helen loves
him, she came, and puts me her white hand
to his cloven chin,
Cres. Juno have mercy ! how came it cloven?
Pan. Why, you know, 'tis dimpled : I think
his smiling becomes him better than any man
in all Phrygia.
Cres. O, he smiles valiantly.
Pan. Does he not ?
Cres. O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn.
Pan. Why, go to, then : but to prove to you
that Helen loves Troilus,
Cres. Troilus will stand to the proof if you '11
prove it so.
Pan. Troilus ! why, he esteems her no more
than I esteem an addle egg.
Cres. If you love an addle egg as well as
you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i'
the shell.
Pan. I cannot choose but laugh to think
how she tickled his chin ; indeed, she has a
marvellous white hand, I must needs confess,
Cres. Without the rack.
Pan. And she takes upon her to spy a white
hair on his chin.
Cres. Alas, poor chin ! many a wart is richer.
Pan. But there was such laughing ! Queen
Hecuba laughed, that her eyes ran o'er,
Cres. With millstones.
Pan. And Cassandra laughed,
Cres. But there was more temperate fire under
the pot of her eyes. Did her eyes run o'er too ?
Pan. And Hector laughed.
Cres. At what was all this laughing ?
Pan. Marry, at the white hair that Helen
spied on Troilus' chin.
Cres. An 't had been a green hair I should
have laughed too.
Pan. They laughed not so much at the hair
as at his pretty answer.
Cres. What was his answer ?
Pan. Quoth she, Here's but one and fifty
hairs on your chin, and one of them is white.
Cres. This is her question.
Pan. That 's true ; make no question of that.
One and fifty hairs, quoth he, and one white :
that white hair is my father, and all the rest
are his sons. Jupiter ! quoth she, which of
these hairs is Paris my husband? The forked
one, quoth he ; pluck it out and give it him.
But there was such laughing ! and Helen so
blushed, and Paris so chafed; and all the rest
so laughed that it passed.
Cres. So let it now ; for it has been a great
while going by.
Pan. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yester-
day ; think on 't.
Cres. So I do.
Pan. I '11 be sworn 'tis true ; he will weep
you, an 'twere a man born in April.
Cres. And I '11 spring up in his tears, an 'twere
a nettle against May. [A retreat sounded.
Pan. Hark ! they are coming from the field :
shall we stand up here, and see them as they
pass toward Ilium ? good niece, do ; sweet
Cressida.
Cres. At your pleasure.
Pan. Here, here, here 's an excellent place ;
here we may see most bravely : I '11 tell you
them all by their names as they pass by ; but
mark Troilus above the rest.
Cres. Speak not so loud.
. ?;' CT9ff J ! ?.I/HotT 2i?
/NEAS passes.
Pan. That 's /Eneas : is not that a brave
man ? he *s one of the flowers of Troy, I can
tell you. But mark Troilus ; you shall see anon.
756
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
[ACT i.
ANTENOR passes.
Ores. Who's that?
Pan. That's Antenor : he has a shrewd wit,
I can tell you ; and he 's a man good enough :
he's one o' the soundest judgments in Troy,
whosoever, and a proper man of person. When
comes Troilus ? I '11 show you Troilus anon :
if he see me, you shall see him nod at me.
Cres. Will he give you the nod ?
Pan. You shall see.
Cres. If he do, the rich shall have more.
HECTOR passes.
Pan. That's Hector, that, that, look you,
that ; there 's a fellow ! Go thy way, Hector !
^-There 's a brave man, niece. O brave Hector !
Look how he looks ! There's a countenance !
Is 't not a brave man ?
Cres. O, a brave man !
Pan. Is 'a not ? It does a man's heart good.
Look you what hacks are on his helmet ! look
you yonder, do you see ? look you there : there 's
no jesting ; there 's laying on ; take 't off who
will, as they say : there be hacks !
Cres. Be those with swords ?
Pan. Swords ! anything, he cares not ; an
the devil come to him, it 's all one : by god's
lid, it does one's heart good. Yonder comes
Paris, yonder comes Paris :
PARIS passes.
look ye yonder, niece ; is J t not a gallant man
top, is't not? Why, this is brave now. Who
said he came hurt home to-day ? he 's not hurt :
why, this will do Helen's heart good now, ha !
Would I could see Troilus now ! you shall
see Troilus anon.
HELEN us passes.
Cres. Who's that?
Pan. That's Helenus : I marvel where
Troilus is : that 's Helenus : I think he went
not forth to-day : that 's Helenus.
Cres. Can Helenus fight, uncle ?
Pan. Helenus! no; yes, he'll fight indifferent
well. I marvel where Troilus is. Hark ! do
you not hear the people cry Troilus ? Helenus
is a priest.
Cres. What sneaking fellow comes yonder ?
TROILUS/^.
Pan. Where ? yonder? that 's Deiphobus :
'tis Troilus ! there 's a man, niece ! Hem !
Brave Troilus ! the prince of chivalry !
Cres. Peace, for shame, peace !
Pan. Mark him ; note him : O brave
Troilus 1 look well upon him, niece ; look you
how his sword is bloodied, and his helm more
hack'd than Hector's ; and how he looks, and
how he goes ! O admirable youth ! he ne'er
saw three and twenty. Go thy way, Troilus,
go thy way ! Had I a sister were a grace, or a
daughter a goddess, he should take his choice.
admirable man ! Paris? Paris is dirt to him ;
and, I warrant, Helen, to change, would give
an eye to boot.
Cres. Here come more.
Forces pass.
Pan. Asses, fools, dolts ! chaff and bran,
chaff and bran ! porridge after meat ! I could
live and die i 5 the eyes of Troilus. Ne'er look,
ne'er look ; the eagles are gone : crows and
daws, crows and daws ! I had rather be such
a man as Troilus than Agamemnon and all
Greece.
Cres. There is among the Greeks Achilles,
^a better man than Troilus.
Pan. Achilles ! a drayman, a porter, a very
camel.
Cres. Well, welL
Pan. Well, well! Why, have you any
discretion ? have you any eyes ? do you know
what a man is? Is not birth, beauty, good
shape, discourse, manhood, learning, gentleness,
virtue, youth, liberality, and such like, the
spice and salt that season a man ?
Cres. Ay, a minced man : and then to be
baked with no date in the pie, for then the
man's date 's out.
Pan. You are such a woman ! one knows
not at what ward you lie.
Cres. Upon my back, to defend my belly ;
upon my wit, to defend my wiles ; upon my
secrecy, to defend mine honesty ; my mask, to
defend my beauty ; and you, to defend all these :
and at all these wards I lie, at a thousand
watches.
Pan. Say one of your watches.
Cres. Nay, I '11 watch you for that ; and
that 's one of the chiefest of them too : if I can-
not ward what I would not have hit, I can
watch you for telling how I took the blow ;
unless it swell past hiding, and then it is past
watching.
Pan. You are such another !
Enter TROILUS' Boy.
3 --z Ji .ovoiq
Boy. Sir, my lord would instantly speak with
you.
Pan. Where?
Boy. At your own house; there he unarms him.
Pan. Good boy, tell him I come. [Exit Boy.
1 doubt he be hurt. Fare ye well, good niece.
SCENE III.]
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
757
Cres. Adieu, uncle.
Pan. I '11 be with you, niece, by and by.
Cres. To bring, uncle.
Pan. Ay, a token from Troilus.
Cres. By the same token you are a bawd.
[Exit PANDARUS.
Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice,
He offers in another's enterprise:
But more in Troilus thousand-fold I see
Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be ;
Yet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing :
Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing:
That she belov'd knows naught that knows not
this,
Men prize the thing ungain'd more than it is :
That she was never yet that ever knew
Love got so sweet as when desire did sue :
Therefore this maxim out of love I teach,
Achievement is command ; ungain'd beseech :
Then though my heart's content firm love doth
bear,
Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear.
[Exit.
SCENE III. THE GRECIAN CAMP.
AGAMEMNON'S Tent.
Before
Sennet. Enter AGAMEMNON, NESTOR,
ULYSSES, MENELAUS, and others.
Agam. Princes, [cheeks?
What grief hath set the jaundice on your
The ample proposition that hope makes
In all designs begun on earth below [disasters
Fails in the promis'd largeness : checks and
Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd ;
As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap,
Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain
Tortive and errant from his course of growth.
Nor, princes, is it matter new to us
That we come short of our suppose so far
That, after seven years' siege, yet Troy walls
stand ;
Sith every action that hath gone before,
Whereof we have record, trial did draw
Bias and thwart, not answering the aim,
And that unbodied figure of the thought
That gav 't surmised shape. Why, then, you
princes,
Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works ;
And call them shames, which are, indeed,
naught else
But the protractive trials of great Jove
To find persistive constancy in men ?
The fineness of which metal is not found
In fortune's love : for then the bold and coward,
The wise and fool, the artist and unread,
The hard and soft, seem all affin'd and kin :
But, in the wind and tempest of her frown,
Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan,
Puffing at all, winnows the light away ;
And what hath mass or matter, by itself
Lies rich in virtue and unmingled. [seat,
Nest. With due observance of thy godlike
Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply
Thy latest words. In the reproof of chance
Lies the true proof of men : the sea being
smooth,
How many shallow bauble boats dare sail
Upon her patient breast, making their way
With those of nobler bulk 1
But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage
The gentle Thetis, and, anon, behold
The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid moun-
tains cut,
Bounding between the two moist elements,
Like Perseus' horse : where 's then the saucy
boat,
Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now
Co-rivall'd greatness? either to harbour fled
Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so
Doth valour's show and valour's worth divide
In storms of fortune : for in her ray and bright-
ness
The herd hath more annoyance by the breeze
Than by the tiger : but when the splitting wind
Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks,
And flies fled under shade, why, then the
thing of courage,
As rous'd with rage, with rage doth sympathize,
And with an accent tun'd in self-same key
Retorts to chiding fortune.
Ulyss. Agamemnon,
Thou great commander, nerve and bone of
Greece,
Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit,
In whom the tempers and the minds of all
Should be shut up, hear what Ulysses speaks.
Besides the applause and approbation
The which, most mighty for thy place and
sway, [To AGAMEMNON.
And thou most reverend for thy stretch'd-out
life, [To NESTOR.
I give to both your speeches, which were such
As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece
Should hold up high in brass ; and such again
As venerable Nestor, hatch'd in silver, [tree
Should with a bond of air, strong as the axle-
On which heaven rides, knit all the Greekish
ears [both,
To his experienc'd tongue, yet let it please
Thou great, and wise, to hear Ulysses speak.
Agam. Speak, Prince of Ithaca; and be't
of less expect,
That matter needless, of importless burden,
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
[ACT 1.
Divide thy lips, than we are confident,
When rank Thersites opes his mastiff jaws,
We shall hear music, wit, and oracle.
Ulyss. Troy, yet upon his basis, had been
down, [master,
And the great Hector's sword had lack'd a
But for these instances.
The specialty of rule hath been neglected :
And look, how many Grecian tents do stand
Hollowupon this plain, so many hollow factions.
When that the general is not like the hive,
To whom the foragers shall all repair,
What honey is expected ? Degree being vizarded ,
The un worthiest shows as fairly in the mask.
The heavens themselves, the planets, and this
centre,
Observe degree, priority, and place,
Insisture, course, proportion, season, form,
Office, and custom, in all line of order :
And therefore is the glorious planet Sol
In noble eminence enthron'd and spher'd
Amidst the other ; whose medicinable eye
Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil,
And posts, like the commandment of a king,
Sans check, to good and bad : but when the
planets,
In evil mixture, to disorder wander,
What plagues and what portents ! what mutiny !
What raging of the sea ! shaking of earth !
Commotion in the winds ! frights, changes,
horrors,
Divert and crack, rend and deracinate
The unity and married calm of states [shak'd,
Quite from their fixture ! O, when degree is
Which is the ladder to all high designs,
The enterprise is sick ! How could communities,
Degrees in schools, and brotherhoods in cities,
Peaceful commerce from dividable shores,
The primogenitive and due of birth,
Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels,
But by degree, stand in authentic place ?
Take but degree away, untune that string,
And, hark, what discord follows! each thing
meets
In mere oppugnancy : the bounded waters
Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores.
And make a sop of all this solid globe :
Strength should be lord of imbecility,
And the rude son should strike his father dead :
Force should be right ; or, rather, right and
wrong,
Between whose endless jar justice resides,
Should lose their names, and so should justice
too.
Then everything includes itself in power,
Power into will, will into appetite ;
And appetite, an universal wolf,
So doubly seconded with will and power,
Must make perforce an universal prey,
And last eat up himself. Great Agamemnon,
This chaos, when degree is suffocate,
Follows the choking.
And this neglection of degree it is
That by a pace goes backward, with a purpose
It hath to climb. The general 's disdain'd
By him one step below ; he by the next ;
That next by him beneath : so every step,
Exampled by the first pace that is sick
Of his superior, grows to an envious fever
Of pale and bloodless emulation ;
And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot,
Not her own sinews. To end a tale of length,
Troy in our weakness stands, not in her strength.
Nest. Most wisely hath Ulyssesherediscover'd
The fever whereof all our power is sick.
Again. The nature of the sickness found,
Ulysses,
What is the remedy ? [crowns
Ulyss. The great Achilles, whom opinion
The sinew and the forehand of our host,
Having his ear full of his airy fame,
Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent
Lies mocking our designs : with him Patroclus,
Upon a lazy bed, the livelong day
Breaks scurril jests ;
And with ridiculous and awkward action,
Which, slanderer, he imitation calls,
He pageants us. Sometime, great Agamemnon,
Thy topless deputation he puts on ;
And, like a strutting player, whose conceit
Lies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich
To hear the wooden dialogue and sound
'Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scaffoldage,
Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrested seeming
He acts thy greatness in : and when he speaks
'Tis like a chime a-mending ; with terms un-
squar'd, [dropp'd,
Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon
Would seem hyperboles. At this fusty stuff
The large Achilles, on his press'd bed lolling,
From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause ;
Cries, Excellent! 'tis Agamemnon just.
Now play me Nestor; hem, and stroke thy beard,
As he being drest to some oration.
That 's done ; as near as the extremes! ends
Of parallels ; as like as Vulcan and his wife :
Yet god Achilles still cries, Excellent!
' Tis ^Nestor right. Now play h im me, Patroclus,
Arming to answer in a night alarm.
And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age
Must be the scene of mirth ; to cough and spit,
And, with a palsy-fumbling on his gorget,
Shake in and out the rivet : and at this sport
Sir Valour dies : cries, O, enough, Patroclus ;
JSCENE'III.]
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
759
Or give me ribs of steel! I shall split all
In pleastire of my spleen. And in this fashion
All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes,
Severals and generals of grace exact,
Achievements, plots, orders, preventions,
Excitements to the field or speech for truce,
Success or loss, what is or is not, serves
As stuff for these two to make paradoxes.
Nest. And in the imitation of these twain,
Who, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns
With an imperial voice, many are infect.
Ajax is grown self-willed ; and bears his head
In such a rein, in full as proud a place
As broad Achilles ; keeps his tent like him ;
Makes factious feasts ; rails on our state of war
Bold as an oracle ; and sets Thersites,
A slave, whose gall coins slanders like a mint,
To match us in comparisons with dirt,
To weaken and discredit our exposure,
How rank soever rounded in with danger.
Ulyss. They tax our policy, and call it
cowardice ;
Count wisdom as no member of the war ;
Forestall prescience, and esteem no act
But that of hand : the still and mental parts,
That do contrive how many hands shall strike,
When fitness calls them on ; and know, by
measure
Of their observant toil, the enemies' weight,
Why, this hath not a finger's dignity:
They call this bed- work, mappery, closet-war;
So that the ram that batters down the wall,
For the great swing and rudeness of his poise,
They place before his hand that made the engine,
Or those that with the fineness of their souls
By reason guide his execution.
Nest. Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse
Makes many Thetis' sons. [ Trumpet sounds.
Agam. What trumpet ? look, Menelaus.
Men. From Troy.
Agam. What would you 'fore our tent ?
sne. Is this great Agamemnon's tent, I
pray you ?
Agam. Even this.
Jfcne. May one, that is a herald and a prince,
Do a fair message to his kingly ears ?
Agam. With surety stronger than Achilles'
arm [voice
'Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one
Call Agamemnon head and general. [may
ALne. Fair leave and large security. How
A stranger to those most imperial looks
Know them from eyes of other mortals ?
Agam. How !
Ay;
I ask, that I might waken reverence,
And bid the cheek be ready with a blush
Modest as morning when she coldly eyes
The youthful Phoebus :
Which is that god in office, guiding men ?
Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon ?
Agam. This Trojan scorns us ; or the men
of Troy
Are ceremonious courtiers.
/Ene. Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm'd,
As bending angels ; that 's their fame in peace :
But when they would seem soldiers, they have
galls, [Jove's accord,
Good arms, strong joints, true swords ; and,
Nothing so full of heart. But peace, ./Eneas,
Peace, Trojan ; lay thy finger on thy lips !
The worthiness of praise distains his worth,
If that the prais'd himself bring the praise forth :
But what the repining enemy commends,
That breath fame blows ; that praise, sole pure,
transcends. [^Eneas ?
Agam. Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself
Ane. Ay, Greek, that is my name.
Agam. What 's your affair, I pray you ?
JEne. Sir, pardon ; 'tis for Agamemnon's ears.
Agam. He hears not privately that comes
from Troy. [him :
JEne. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper
I bring a trumpet to awake his ear ;
To set his sense on the attentive bent,
And then to speak.
Agam. Speak frankly as the wind ;
It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour :
That thou shalt know, Trojan, he is awake,
He tells thee so himself.
snc. Trumpet, blow loud,
Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents ;
And every Greek of mettle, let him know
What Troy means fairly shall be spoke aloud.
{Trumpet sounds.
We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy
A prince called Hector, Priam is his father,
Who in this dull and long-continued truce
Is rusty grown : he bade me take a trumpet
And to this purpose speak. Kings, princes,
lords!
If there be one among the fair'st of Greece
That holds his honour higher than his ease ;
That seeks his praise more than he fears his
peril;
That knows his valour and knows not his fear ;
That loves his mistress more than in confession,
With truant vows to her own lips he loves,
And dare avow her beauty and her worth
In other arms than hers, to him this challenge.
Hector, in view of Trojans and of Greeks,
Shall make it good, or do his best to do it,
7 6o
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
[ACT i. \
He hath a lady wiser, fairer, truer
Than ever Greek did compass in his arms
And will to-morrow with his trumpet call,
Mid- way between your tents and walls of Troy,
To rouse a Grecian that is true in love :
If any come, Hector shall honour him ;
If none, he '11 say in Troy when he retires,
The Grecian dames are sunburnt, and not worth
The splinter of a lance. Even so much.
Agam. This shall be told our lovers, Lord
If none of them have soul in such a kind,
We left them all at home : but we are soldiers ;
And may that soldier a mere recreant prove
That means not, hath not, or is not in love !
If then one is, or hath, or means to be,
That one meets Hector ; if none else, I am he.
Nest. Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man
When Hector's grandsire suck'd : he is old now ;
But if there be not in our Grecian host
One noble man that hath one spark of fire
To answer for his love, tell him from me
I '11 hide my silver beard in a gold beaver,
And in my vantbrace put this wither'd brawn ;
And, meeting him, will tell him that my lady
Was fairer than his grandame, and as chaste
As may be in the world : his youth in flood,
I'll prove this truth with my three drops of
blood. [youth !
j*Enc. Now heavens forbid such scarcity of
Ulyss. Amen. [hand ;
Agam. Fair Lord ^Eneas, let me touch your
To our pavilion shall I lead you, sir.
Achilles shall have word of this intent ;
So shall each lord of Greece, from tent to tent :
Yourself shall feast with us before you go,
And find the welcome of a noble foe.
[Exeunt all but ULYSS. and NEST.
Ulyss. Nestor,
Nest. What says Ulysses ? [brain ;
Ulyss. I have a young conception in my
Be you my time to bring it to some shape.
Nest. What is 't?
Ulyss. This 'tis :
Blunt wedges rive hard knots : the seeded pride
That hath to this maturity blown up
In rank Achilles must or now be cropp'd,
Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil,
To overbulk us all.
Nest. Well, and how ? [sends,
Ulyss. This challenge that the gallant Hector
However it is spread in general name,
Relates in purpose only to Achilles. [stance,
Nest. The purpose is perspicuous even as sub-
Whose grossness little characters sum up :
And, in the publication, make no strain
But that Achilles, were his brain as barren
As banks of Libya, though, Apollo knows,
'Tis dry enough,- will, with great speed of
judgment,
Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose
Pointing on him.
Ulyss. And wake him to the answer, think
you ? [else oppose
Nest. Yes, 'tis most meet: whom may you
That can from Hector bring his honour off,
If not Achilles? Though 't be a sportful combat,
Yet in the trial much opinion dwells ;
For here the Trojans taste our dear'st repute
With their fin'st palate: and trust to me, Ulysses,
Our imputation shall be oddly pois'd
In this wild action ; for the success,
Although particular, shall give a scantling
Of good or bad unto the general ;
And in such indexes, although small pricks
To their subsequent volumes, there is seen
The baby figure of tAe giant mass
Of things to come at large. It is suppos'd
He that meets Hector issues from our choice :
And choice being mutual act of all our souls,
Makes merit her election ; and doth boil,
As 'twere from forth us all, a man distill'd
Out of our virtues ; who miscarrying, [part,
What heart receives from hence the conquering
To steal a strong opinion to themselves ?
Which entertain'd, limbs are his instruments.
In no less working than are swords and bows
Directive by the limbs.
Ulyss. Give pardon to my speech ;
Therefore 'tis meet Achilles meet not Hector.
Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares,
And think perchance they'll sell ; if not,
The lustre of the better shall exceed,
By showing the worst first. Do not consent
That ever Hector and Achilles meet ;
For both our honour and our shame in this
Are dogg'd with two strange followers.
Nest. I see them not with my old eyes : what
are they ? ;, . "
Ulyss. What glory our Achilles shares from
Hector, [him :
Were he not proud, we all should share with
But he already is too insolent ;
And we were better parch in Afric sun
Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes,
Should he 'scape Hector fair : if he were foil'd,
Why, then we did our main opinion crush
In taint of our best man. No, make a lottery ;
And, by device, let blockish Ajax draw
The sort to fight with Hector : among ourselves,
Give him allowance for the better man ;
For that will physic the great Myrmidon
Who broils in loud applause, and make him fall
His crest that prouder than blue Iris bends.
SCENE III.]
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
76i
If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off,
We '11 dress him up in voices : if he fail,
Yet go we under our opinion still
That we have better men. But, hit or miss,
Our project's life this shape of sense assumes,
Ajax employ'd plucks down Achilles' plumes.
Nest. Now, Ulysses, I begin to relish thy
advice ;
And I will give a taste of it forthwith
To Agamemnon : go we to him straight.
Two curs shall tame each other : pride alone
Must tarre the mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone.
[Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCENE I. Another part of the Grecian Camp.
Enter AJAX and THERSITES.
Ajax. Thersites,
Ther. Agamemnon, how if he had boils,
full, all over, generally *,
Ajax. Thersites,
Ther. And those boils did run ? Say so,
did not the general run then ? were not that a
botchy core?
Ajax. Dog,
Ther. Then would come some matter from
him ; I see none now.
Ajax. Thou bitch-wolf's son, canst thou not
hear? Feel, then. [Beating him.
Ther. The plague of Greece upon thee, thou
mongrel beef-witted lord !
Ajax. Speak, then, thou vinewedst leaven,
speak : I will beat thee into handsomeness.
Ther. I shall sooner rail thee into wit and
holiness : but I think thy horse will sooner con
an oration than thou learn a prayer without
book. Thou canst strike, canst thou? a red
murrain o' thy jade's tricks !
Ajax. Toadstool, learn me the proclamation.
Ther. Dost thou think I have no sense, thou
strikest me thus ?
Ajax. The proclamation,
Ther. Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think.
Ajax. Do not, porcupine, do not ; my fingers
itch.
Ther. I would thou didst itch from head to
foot, and I had the scratching of thee ; I would
make thee the loathsomest scab in Greece.
When thou art forth in the incursions, thou
strikest as slow as another.
Ajax. I say, the proclamation,
Ther. Thou grumblest and railest every hour
on Achilles ; and thou art as full of envy at his
greatness as Cerberus is at Proserpina's beauty,
ay, that thou barkest at him.
Ajax. Mistress Thersites :
Ther. Thou shouldst strike him.
Ajax. Cobloaf !
Ther. He would pun thee into shivers with
his fist, as a sailor breaks a biscuit.
Ajax. You whoreson cur ! [Beating him.
Ther. Do, do.
Ajax. Thou stool for a witch !
Ther. Ay, do, do ; thou sodden- witted lord !
thou hast no more brain than I have in mine
elbows ; an assinego may tutor thee : thou
scurvy valiant ass ! thou art here but to thrash
Trojans ; and thou art bought and sold among
those of any wit, like a barbarian slave. If
thou use to beat me, I will begin at thy heel,
and tell what thou art by inches, thou thing of
no bowels, thou !
Ajax. You dog !
Ther. You scurvy lord !
Ajax. You cur ! [Beating him.
Ther. Mars his idiot! do, rudeness; do,
camel ; do, do.
Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS.
Achil. Why, how now, Ajax ! wherefore do
you thus?
How now, Thersites! what's the matter, man?
Ther. You see him there, do you ?
Achil. Ay ; what 's the matter ?
Ther. Nay, look upon him.
Achil. So I do : what's the matter?
Ther. Nay, but regard him well.
Achil. Well ! why, I do so.
Ther. But yet you look not well upon him ;
for whosoever you take him to be, he is Ajax.
Achil. I know that, fool.
Ther. Ay, but that fool knows not himself.
Ajax. Therefore I beat thee.
Ther. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit
he utters ! his evasions have ears thus long. I
have bobbed his brain more than he has beat
my bones : I will buy nine sparrows for a
penny, and his pia mater is not worth the
ninth part of a sparrow. This lord, Achilles,
Ajax, who wears his wit in his belly, and his
guts in his head, I '11 tell you what I say of
him.
Achil. What?
Ther. I say, this Ajax,
[AjAX offers to beat Aim, ACHILLES
interposes.
Achil. Nay, good Ajax.
Ther. Has not so much wit,
Achil. Nay, I must hold you.
Ther. As will stop the eye of Helen's needle,
for whom he comes to fight.
Achil. Peace, fool !
762
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
[ACT II.
Ther. I would have peace and quietness, but
the fool will not : he there ; that he ; look you
there.
Ajax. O thou damned cur ! I shall,
AchiL Will you set your wit to a fool's ?
Ther. No, I warrant you ; for a fool's will
shame it.
Patr. Good words, Thersites.
AchiL What's the quarrel?
Ajax. I bade the vile owl go learn me the
tenor of the proclamation, and he rails upon me.
Ther. I serve thee not.
Ajax. Well, go to, go to.
Ther. I serve here voluntary.
AchiL Your last service was sufferance, 'twas
not voluntary, no man is beaten voluntary :
Ajax was here the voluntary, and you as under
an impress.
Ther. E'en so ; a great deal of your wit, too,
lies in your sinews, or else there be liars.
Hector shall have a great catch if he knock out
either of your brains : 'a were as good crack a
fusty nut with no kernel.
AchiL What, with me too, Thersites ?
Ther. There's Ulysses and old Nestor,
whose wit was mouldy ere your grandsires had
nails on their toes, yoke you like draught
oxen, and make you plough up the wars.
AchiL What, what ?
Ther. Yes, good sooth: to, Achilles! to,
Ajax! to!
Ajax. I shall cut out your tongue.
Ther. 'Tis no matter ; I shall speak as much
as thou afterwards.
Patr. No more words, Thersites ; peace !
Ther. I will hold my peace when Achilles'
brach bids me, shall I ?
AchiL There 's for you, Patroclus.
Ther. I will see you hanged, like clotpoles,
ere I come any more to your tents : I will keep
where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction
of fools. [Exit.
Patr. A good riddance.
AchiL Marry, this, sir, is proclaim'd through
all our host :
That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun,
Will, with a trumpet, 'twixt our tents and Troy,
To-morrow morning call some knight to arms
That hath a stomach ; and such a one that dare
Maintain I know not what; 'tis trash. Fare-
well.
Ajax. Farewell. Who shall answer him ?
AchiL I know not, it is put to lottery ;
otherwise
He knew his man.
Ajax. O, meaning you. I '11 go learn more
of it. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. TROY. A Room in PRIAM'S
Palace.
Enter PRIAM, HECTOR, TROILUS, PARIS,
and HELENUS.
Pri. After so many hours, lives, speeches
spent,
Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks :
Deliver Helen, and all damage else,
As honour, loss of time, travail, expense,
Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is
consumed
In hot digestion of this cormorant "war,
Shall be struck off: Hector, what say you to 't ?
Hect. Though no man lesser fears the Greeks
than I,
As far as toucheth my particular,
Yet, dread Priam,
There is no lady of more softer bowels,
More spongy to suck in the sense of fear,
More ready to cry out, Who knows what follows?
Than Hector is : the wound of peace is surety,
Surety secure ; but modest doubt is call'd
The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches
To the bottom of the worst. Let Helen go :
Since the first sword was drawn about this
question, (
Every tithe soul, 'mongst many thousand dismes,
Hath been as dear as Helen, I mean, of ours:
If we have lost so many tenths of ours,
To guard a thing not ours, nor worth to us,
Had it our name, the value of one ten,
What merit 's in that reason which denies
The yielding of her up ?
Tro. Fie, fie, my brother !
Weigh you the worth and honour of a king,
So great as our dread father, in a scale
Of common ounces? will you with counters sum
The past-proportion of his infinite ?
And buckle-in a waist most fathomless
With spans and inches so diminutive
As fears and reasons ? fie, for godly shame I
Hel. No marvel though you bite so sharp at
reasons : [father
You are so empty of them. Should not our
Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons,
Because your speech hath none that tells him so ?
Tro. You are for dreams and slumbers,
brother priest ; [reasons :
You fur your gloves with reason. Here are your
You know an enemy intends you harm ;
You know a sword employ'd is perilous,
And reason flies the object of all harm :
Who marvels, then, when Helenus beholds
A Grecian and his sword, if he do set
The very wings of reason to his heels,
SCENE II.]
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
763
And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove,
Or like a star disorb'd? Nay if we talk of
reason [honour
Let 's shut our gates and sleep : manhood and
Should have hare hearts would they but fat their
thoughts
With this cramm'd reason : reason and respect
Make livers pale and lustihood deject. [cost
Hect. Brother, she is not worth what she doth
The holding.
Tro. What is aught but as 'tis valued ?
Hect. But value dwells not in particular will ;
It holds his estimate and dignity
As well wherein 'tis precious of itself
As in the prizer : 'tis mad idolatry
To make the service greater than the god ;
And the will dotes, that is attributive
To what infectiously itself affects,
Without some image of the affected merit.
Tro. I take to-day a wife, and my election
Is led on in the conduct of my will ;
My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears,
Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores
Of will and judgment : how may I avoid,
Although my will distaste what it elected,
The wife I chose ? there can be no evasion
To blench from this, and to stand firm by honour :
We turn not back the silks upon the merchant
When we have soil'd them ; nor the remainder
viands
We do not throw in unrespective sieve,
Because we now are full. It was thought meet
Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks :
Your breath of full consent bellied his sails ;
The seas and winds, old wranglers, took a
truce, [desir'd ;
And did him service : he touch'd the ports
And for an old aunt, whom the Greeks held
captive, [freshness
He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and
Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes stale the morning.
Why keep we her? the Grecians keep our aunt :
Is she worth keeping? why, she is a pearl,
Whose price hath launch'd above a thousand
ships,
And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants.
If you '11 avouch 'twas wisdom Paris went,
As you must needs, for you all cried, Go, go,
If you '11 confess he brought home noble prize,
As you must needs, for you all clapp'd your hands,
And cried, Inestimable ! why do you now
The issue of your proper wisdoms rate,
And do a deed that fortune never did,
Beggar the estimation which you priz'd
Richer than sea and land? O theft most base,
That we have stol'n what we do fear to keep !
'But thieves, unworthy of a thing so stol'n,
That in their country did them that disgrace,
We fear to warrant in our native place !
Cas. [ Within. ] Cry, Trojans, cry !
Pri. What noise? what shriek is this?
Pro. 'Tis our mad sister, I do know her voice.
Cas. [Within.} Cry, Trojans!
Hect. It is Cassandra.
Enter CASSANDRA, raving.
Cas. Cry, Trojans, cry ! lend me ten thousand
eyes,
And I will fill them with prophetic tears.
Hect. Peace, sister, peace. [old,
Cas. Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled
Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry,
Add to my clamours ! let us pay betimes
A moiety of that mass of moan to come.
Cry, Trojans, cry ! practise your eyes with tears !
Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand ;
Our firebrand brother, Paris, burns us all.
Cry, Trojans, cry ! an Helen and a woe :
Cry, cry ! Troy burns, or else let Helen go.
[Exit.
Hect. Now, youthful Troilus, do not these
high strains
Of divination in our sister work
Some touches of remorse ? or is your blood
So madly hot that no discourse of reason,
Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause,
Can qualify the same?
Tro. Why, brother Hector,
We may not think the justness of each act
Such and no other than event doth form it ;
Nor once deject the courage of our minds
Because Cassandra 's mad : her brain-sick
raptures
Cannot distaste the goodness of a quarrel
Which hath our several honours all engag'd
To make it gracious. For my private part,
I am no more touch'd than all Priam's sons :
And Jove forbid there should be done amongst
us
Such things as might offend the weakest spleen
To fight for and maintain !
Par. Else might the world convince of levity
As well my undertakings as your counsels:
But I attest the gods, your full consent
Gave wings to my propension, and cut off
All fears attending on so dire a project.
For what, alas, can these my single arms?
What propugnation is in one man's valour,
To stand the push and enmity of thost:
This quarrel would excite ? Yet, I protest,
Were I alone to pass the difficulties,
And had as ample power as I have will,
Paris should ne'er retract what he hath done,
Nor faint in the pursuit.
7 6 4
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
[ACT ii.
Prim Paris, you speak
Like one besotted on your sweet delights :
You have the honey still, but these the gall ;
So to be valiant is no praise at all.
Par. Sir, I propose not merely to myself
The pleasures such a beauty brings with it ;
But I would have the soil of her fair rape
Wip'd off in honourable keeping her.
What treason were it to the ransack'd queen,
Disgrace to your great worths, and shame to me,
Now to deliver her possession up
On terms of base compulsion ! Can it be
That so degenerate a strain as this
Should once set footing in your generousbosoms?
There 's not the meanest spirit on our party,
Without a heart to dare or sword to draw,
When Helen is defended ; nor none so noble,
Whose life were ill bestow'd or death unfam'd,
Where Helen is the subject : then, I say, [well,
Well may we fight for her, whom, we know
The world's large spaces cannot parallel.
Hect. Paris and Troilus, you have both said
well;
And on the cause and question now in hand
Have gloz'd, but superficially; not much
Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought
Unfit to hear moral philosophy:
The reasons you allege do more conduce
To the hot passion of distemper'd blood
Than to make up a free determination
'Twixt right and wrong; for pleasure and
revenge
Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice
Of any true decision. Nature ci'aves
All dues be render'd to their owners : now,
What nearer debt in all humanity
Than wife is to the husband ? If this law
Of nature be corrupted through affection ;
And that great minds, of partial indulgence
To their benumbed wills, resist the same ;
There is a law in each well-order'd nation
To curb those raging appetites that are
Most disobedient and refractory.
If Helen, then, be wife to Sparta's king,
As it is known she is, these moral laws
Of nature and of nations speak aloud
To have her back return'd : thus to persist
In doing wrong extenuates not wrong,
But makes it much more heavy. Hector's
opinion
Is this, in way of truth : yet, ne'ertheless,
My spritely brethren, I propend to you
In resolution to keep Helen still ;
For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependence
Upon our joint and several dignities.
Tro. Why, there you touch'd the life of our
Were it not glory that we more affected
Than the performance of our heaving spleens,
I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood
Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector.
She is a theme of honour and renown ;
A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds;
Whose present courage may beat down our foes,
And fame in time to come can6nize us:
For, I presume, brave Hector would not lose
So rich advantage of a promis'd glory,
As smiles upon the forehead of this action,
For the wide world's revenue.
Hect. I am yours,
You valiant offspring of great Priamus.
I have a roisting challenge sent amongst
The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks
Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits :
I was advertised their great general slept,
Whilst emulation in the army crept :
This, I presume, will wake him. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. THE GRECIAN CAMP. Before
ACHILLES' Tent.
Enter THERSITES.
Ther. How now, Thersites ! what, lost in
the labyrinth of thy fury ! Shall the elephant
Ajax carry it thus ? he beats me, and I rail at
him : O worthy satisfaction ! would it were
otherwise ; that I could beat him, whilst he
railed at me. 'Sfoot, I '11 learn to conjure and
raise devils, but I '11 see some issue of my
spiteful execrations. Then there 's Achilles,
a rare engineer. If Troy be not taken till
these two undermine it, the walls will stand
till they fall of themselves. O thou great
thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou
art Jove, the king ot gods ; and, Mercury, lose
all the serpentine craft of thy caducetis ; if ye
take not that little little less-than-little wit
from them that they have ! which short-aimed
ignorance itself knows is so abundant scarce, it
will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a
spider, without drawing their massy irons and
cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on
the whole camp ! or, rather, the bone-ache !
for that, methinks, is the curse dependent on
those that war for a placket. I have said my
prayers ; and devil envy say Amen. What,
ho ! my Lord Achilles !
Enter PATROCLUS.
Patr. Who 's there? Thersites ! Good Ther-
sites, come in and rail.
Ther. If I could have remembered a gilt
counterfeit, thou wouldst not have slipped out
of my contemplation : but it is no matter ;
SCENE III.]
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
765
thyself upon thyself ! The common curse of
mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in great
revenue ! heaven bless thee from a tutor, and
discipline come not near thee ! Let thy blood
be thy direction till thy death ! then if she
that lays thee out says thou art a fair corse,
I '11 be sworn and sworn upon 't she never
shrouded any but lazars. Amen. Where's
Achilles?
Patr. What, art thou devout? wast thou in
prayer ?
Ther. Ay, the heavens hear me !
Enter ACHILLES.
Achil. Who 's there ?
Pair. Thersites, my lord.
Achil. Where, where? Art thou come?
Why, my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou
not served thyself in to my table so many
meals ? Come, what 's Agamemnon ?
Ther. Thy commander, Achilles : then tell
me, Patroclus, what 's Achilles ?
Pair. Thy lord, Thersites : then tell me, I
pray thee, what's thyself?
Ther. Thy knower, Patroclus : then tell me,
Patroclus, what art thou ?
Pair. Thou mayest tell that knowest.
Achil. O, tell, tell.
Ther. I '11 decline the whole question. Aga-
memnon commands Achilles ; Achilles is my
lord ; I am Patroclus' knower ; and Patroclus
is a fool.
Patr. You rascal !
Ther. Peace, fool ! I have not done.
Achil. He is a privileged man. Proceed,
Thersites.
Ther. Agamemnon is a fool ; Achilles is a
fool; Thersites is a fool; and, as aforesaid,
Patroclus is a fool.
Achil. Derive this ; come.
Ther. Agamemnon is a fool to offer to com-
mand Achilles ; Achilles is a fool to be com-
manded of Agamemnon ; Thersites is a fool to
serve such a fool ; and Patroclus is a fool posi-
tive.
Patr. Why am i a fool ? _
Ther. Make that demand of the jwefeft It
suffices me thou art. Look you, who comes
here?
Achil. Patroclus, I'll speak with nobody.
Come in with me, Thersites. [Exit.
Ther. Here is such patchery, such juggling,
and such knavery ! all the argument is a cuckold
and a whore ; a good quarrel to draw emulous
factions and bleed to death upon. Now the
dry serpigo on the subject ! and war and lechery
confound all ! [Exit.
Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, NESTOR,
DIOMEDES, and AJAX.
Agam. Where is Achilles ? [lord.
Patr. Within his tent ; but ill-dispos'd, my
Agam. Let it be known to him that we are
here.
He shent our messengers ; and we lay by
Our appertainments, visiting of him :
Let him be told so ; lest, perchance, he think
We dare not move the question of our place,
Or know not what we are.
Patr. I shall say so to him. [Exit.
Ulyss. We saw him at the opening of his
tent:
He is not sick.
Ajax. Yes, lion-sick, sick of proud heart :
you may call it melancholy, if you will favour
the man ; but, by my head, 'tis pride : but why,
why? let him show us the cause. A word, my
lord. [Takes AGAMEMNON aside.
Nest. What moves Ajax thus to bay at him ?
Ulyss. Achilles hath inveigled his fool from
him.
Nest. Who, Thersites?
Ulyss. He.
Nest. Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have
lost his argument.
Ulyss. No ; you see, he is his argument that
has his argument, Achilles.
Nest. All the better ; their fraction is more
our wish than their faction. But it was a strong
composure a fool could disunite.
Ulyss. The amity that wisdom knits not,
folly may easily untie. Here comes Patroclus.
Nest. No Achilles with him.
Ulyss. The elephant hath joints, but none
for courtesy : his legs are legs for necessity, not
for flexure.
Re-enter PATROCLUS.
Patr. Achilles bids me say, he is much sorry
If anything more than your sport and pleasure
Did move your greatness and this noble state
To call upon him ; he hopes it is no other
But for your health and your digestion sake,
An after-dinner's breath.
Agam. Hear you, Patroclus :
We are too well acquainted with these answers :
But his evasion, wing'd thus swift with scorn,
Cannot outfly our apprehensions.
Much attribute he hath ; and much the reason
Why we ascribe it to him : yet all his virtues,
Not virtuously on his own part beheld,
Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss ;
Yea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish,
Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him
T~v
766
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
[ACT n.
We come to speak with him ; and you shall
not sin
If you do say we think him over-proud
And under-honest ; in self-assumption greater
Than in the note of judgment ; and worthier
than himself
Here tend the savage strangeness he puts on,
Disguise the holy strength of their command,
And underwrite in an observing kind
His humorous predominance ; yea, watch
His pettish lunes, his ebbs, his flows, as if
The passage and whole carriage of this action
Rode on his tide. Go tell him this ; and add,
That if he overhold his price so much,
We '11 none of him ; but let him, like an engine
Not portable, lie under this report,
Bring action hither, this cannot go to war :
A stirring dwarf we do allowance give
Before a sleeping giant : tell him so.
Pair. I shall ; and bring his answer presently.
[Exit.
Again. In second voice we '11 not be satisfied ;
We come to speak with him. Ulysses, enter
you. [Exit ULYSSES.
Ajax. What is he more than another ?
Agam. No more than what he thinks he is.
Ajax. Is he so much ? Do you not think
he thinks himself a better man than I am ?
Agam. No question.
Ajax. Will you subscribe his thought, and
say he is ?
Agam. No, noble Ajax ; you are as strong,
as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more
gentle, and altogether more tractable.
Ajax. Why should a man be proud ? How
doth pride grow ? I know not what pride is.
Agam. Your mind is the clearer, Ajax, and
your virtues the fairer. He that is proud eats
up himself: pride is his own glass, his own
trumpet, his own chronicle ; and whatever
praises itself but in the deed devours the deed
in the praise.
Ajax. I do hate a proud man as I hate the
engendering of toads.
Nest. Yet he loves himself : is 't not strange ?
[Aside.
Re-enter ULYSSES.
Ulyss. Achilles will not to the field to-morrow.
Agam. What 's his excuse ?
Ulyss. He doth rely on none ;
But carries on the stream of his dispose,
Without observance or respect of any,
In will peculiar and in self-admission.
Agam. Why will he not, upon our fair
request,
Untent his person, and share the air with us ?
Ulyss. Things small as nothing, for request's
sake only, [greatness :
He makes important : possess'd he is with
And speaks not to himself but with a pride
That quarrels at self-breath : imagin'd worth
Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse
That 'twixt his mental and his active parts
Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages,
And batters down himself: what should I say?
He is so plaguy proud that the death tokens of it
Cry, No recovery.
Agam. Let Ajax go to him.
Dear lord, go you and greet him in his tent :
'Tis said he holds you well ; and will be led,
At your request, a little from himself.
Ulyss. O Agamemnon, let it not be so !
We '11 consecrate the steps that Ajax makes
When they go from Achilles. Shall the proud
lord,
That bastes his arrogance with his own seam,
And never suffers matter of the world
Enter his thoughts, save such as do revolve
And ruminate himself, shall he be worshipp'd
Of that we hold an idol more than he ?
No, this thrice-worthy and right valiant lord
Must not so stale his palm, nobly acquir'd ;
Nor, by my will, assubjngate his merit,
As amply titled as Achilles is,
By going to Achilles :
That were to enlard his fat-already pride,
And add more coals to Cancer when he burns
With entertaining great Hyperion.
This lord go to him ! Jupiter forbid ;
And say in thunder, Achilles go to him.
Nest. O, this is well ; he rubs the vein of him.
[Aside.
Dio. And how his silence drinks up this ap-
?lause ! [Aside.
f I go to him, with my armed fist
I '11 pash him o'er the face.
Agam. O, no, you shall not go. [pride :
Ajax. An 'a be proud with me I '11 pheeze his
Let me go to him. [quarrel.
Ulyss. Not for the worth that hangs upon our
Ajax. A paltry, insolent fellow !
Nest. How he describes himself ! [Aside.
Ajax. Can he not be sociable ?
Ulyss. The raven chides blackness. [Aside.
Ajax. I '11 let his humours blood.
Agam. He will be the physician that should
be the patient. [Aside.
Ajax. An all men were o' my mind,
Ulyss. Wit would be out of fashion. [Aside.
Ajax. 'A should not bear it so, 'a should eat
swords first : shall pride carry it ?
Nest. An 'twould, you 'd carry half. [Aside.
Ulyss. 'A would have ten shares. [Aside.
SCENE III.]
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
767
Ajax. I will knead him, I '11 make him supple.
Nest. He 's not yet thorough warm : force
him with praises : pour in, pour in : his ambi-
tion is dry. [Aside.
Ulyss. My lord, you feed too much on this
dislike. [To AGAMEMNON.
Nest. Our noble general, do not do so.
Dio. You must prepare to fight without
Achilles. [harm.
Ulyss. Why 'tis this naming of him does him
Here is a man but 'tis before his face ;
I will be silent.
Nest. Wherefore should you so ?
He is not emulous, as Achilles is.
Ulyss. Know the whole world, he is as
valiant.
Ajax. A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus
with us !
Would he were a Trojan !
Nest. What a vice were it in Ajax now,
Ulyss. If he were proud,
Dio. Or covetous of praise,
Ulyss. Ay, or surly borne,
Dio. Or strange, or self- affected!
Ulyss. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of
sweet composure ; [suck ;
Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee
Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature
Thrice-fam'd, beyond all erudition :
But he that disciplin'd thy arms to fight,
Let Mars divide eternity in twain,
And give him half: and, for thy vigour,
Bull-bearing Mil his addition yield
To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom,
Which, like a bourn, a pale, a shore, confines
Thy spacious and dilated parts : here's Nestor,
Instructed by the antiquary times,
He must, he is, he cannot but be wise ;
But pardon, father Nestor, were your days
As green as Ajax', and your brain so temper'd,
You should not have the eminence of him,
But be as Ajax.
Ajax. Shall I call you father?
Nest. Ay, my good son.
Dio. Be rul'd by him, Lord Ajax.
Ulyss. There is no tarrying here ; the hart
Achilles
Keeps thicket. Please it our great general
To call together all his state of war ;
Fresh kings are come to Troy. To-morrow
We must with all our main of power stand fast :
And here 's a lord, come knights from east to
west,
And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best.
Agam. Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep :
Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks
draw deep. [Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I. TROY. A Room in PRIAM'S
Palace.
Enter PANDARUS and a Servant.
Pan. Friend, you, pray you, a word : do
not you follow the young Lord Paris ?
Serv. Ay, sir, when he goes before me.
Pan. You depend upon him, I mean ?
Serv. Sir, I do depend upon the lord.
Pan. You depend upon a noble gentleman ;
I must needs praise him.
Serv. The lord be praised !
Pan. You know me, do you not ?
Serv. Faith, sir, superficially,
Pan. Friend, know me better ; I am the
Lord Pandarus.
Serv. I hope I shall know your honour better.
Pan. I do desire it
Serv. You are in the state of grace.
[Music within.
Pan. Grace ! not so, friend ; honour and
lordship are my titles. What music is this?
Serv. I do but partly know, sir : it is music
in parts.
Pan. Know you the musicians ?
Serv. Wholly, sir.
Pan. Who play they to ?
Serv. To the hearers, sir.
Pan. At whose pleasure, friend ?
Serv. At mine, sir, and theirs that love music.
Pan. Command, I mean, friend.
Serv. Who shall I command, sir ?
Pan. Friend, we understand not one another :
I am too courtly, and thou art too cunning.
At whose request do these men play ?
Serv. That 's to 't, indeed, sir. Marry, sir,
at the request of Paris my lord, who is there in
person ; with him, the mortal Venus, the heart-
blood of beauty, love's invisible soul,
Pan. Who, my cousin Cressida ?
Serv. No, sir, Helen : could you not find
out that by her attributes ?
Pan. It should seem, fellow, that thou hast
not seen the Lady Cressida. I come to speak
with Paris from the Prince Troilus : I will
make a complimental assault upon him, for
my business seethes.
Serv. Sodden business ! there 's a stewed
phrase indeed !
Enter PARIS and HELEN, attended.
Pan. Fair be to you, my lord, and to all
this fair company ! fair desires, in all fair
measure, fairly guide them ! especially to you,
fair queen ! fair thoughts be your fair pillow 1
768
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
[ACT in.
Helen. Dear lord, you are full of fair words.
Pan. You speak your fair pleasure, sweet
queen. Fair prince, here is good broken music.
Par. You have broke it, cousin : and by my
life, you shall make it whole again ; you shall
piece it out with a piece of your performance.
Nell, he is full of harmony.
Pan. Truly, lady, no,
Helen. O, sir,
Pan* Rude, in sooth ; in good sooth, very
rude.
Par* Well said, my lord ! well, you say so in
fits.
Pan. I have business to my lord, dear queen.
My lord, will you vouchsafe me a word ?
Helen. Nay, this shall not hedge us out :
we '11 hear you sing, certainly.
Pan. Well, sweet queen, you are pleasant
with me. But, marry, thus, my lord, My
dear lord, and most esteemed friend, your
brother Troilus,
Helen. My Lord Pandarus ; honey-sweet
lord,
Pan. Go to, sweet queen, go to : commends
himself most affectionately to you,
Helen. You shall not bob us out of our
melody : if you do, our melancholy upon your
head!
Pan. Sweet queen, sweet queen ; that '* a
sweet queen, i' faith.
Helen. And to make a sweet lady sad is a
sour offence.
Pan. Nay, that shall not serve your turn ;
that shall it not, in truth, la. Nay, I care not
for such words ; no, no. And, my lord, he
desires you that, if the king call for him at
supper, you will make his excuse.
Helen. My Lord Pandarus,
Pan. What says my sweet queen, my very
very sweet queen ?
Par. What exploit's in hand? where sups
he to-night ?
Helen. Nay, but, my lord,
Pan. What says my sweet queen? My
cousin will fall out with you. You must not
know where he sups.
Par. I '11 lay my life, with my disposer
Cressida.
Pan. No, no, no such matter ; you are
wide : come, your disposer is sick.
Par. Well, I '11 make excuse.
Pan. Ay, good my lord. Why should you
say Cressida ? no, your poor disposer 's sick.
Par. I spy.
Pan. You spy! what do you spy? Come,
give me an instrument. Now, sweet queen.
Helen. Why, this is kindly done.
Pan. My niece is horribly in love with a
thing you have, sweet queen.
Helen. She shall have it, my lord, if it be
not my Lord Paris.
Pan. He ! no, she '11 none of him ; they two
are twain.
Helen. Falling in, after falling out, may
make them three.
Pan. Come, come, I'll hear no more of
this ; I '11 sing you a song now.
Helen. Ay, ay, pr'ythee now. By my troth,
sweet lord, thou hast a fine forehead.
Pan. Ay, you may, you may.
Helen. Let thy song be love : this love will
undo us all. O Cupid, Cupid, Cupid !
Pan. Love ! ay, that it shall, i' faith, [love.
Par. Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but
Pan. In good troth, it begins so :
Love, love, nothing but love, still more !
For, oh, love s bow
Shoots buck and doe I
The shaft confounds.
Not that it wounds,
But tickles still the sore.
These lovers cry Oh ! oh 1 they die !
Yet that which seems the wound to kill,
Doth turn oh I oh J to ha ! ha ! he !
So dying love lives still :
Oh ! oh ! a while, but ha ! ha ! ha !
Oh t oh ! groans out for ha 1 ha ! ha !
Heigh ho !
Helen. In love, i' faith, to the very tip of the
nose.
Par. He eats nothing but doves, love ; and
that breeds hot blood, and hot blood begets
hot thoughts, and hot thoughts beget hot deeds,
and hot deeds is love.
Pan. Is this the generation of love? hot
blood, hot thoughts, and hot deeds? Why,
they are vipers : is love a generation of vipers ?
Sweet lord, who 's a-field to-day ?
Par. Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor,
and all the gallantry of Troy : I would fain
have armed to-day, but my Nell would not
have it so. How chance my brother Troilus
went not ?
Helen. He hangs the lip at something :
you know all, Lord Pandarus.
Pan. Not I, honey-sweet queen. I long to
hear how they sped to-day. You '11 remember
your brother's excuse ?
Par. To a hair.
Pan. Farewell, sweet queen.
Helen. Commend me to your niece. in/;
Pan. I will, sweet queen. [Exit.
[A retreat sounded.
Par. They are come from field : let us to
Priam's hall [woo you
To greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must
SCENE II. J
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
769
To help unarm our Hector: his stubborn buckles,
With these your white enchanting fingers
touch'd,
Shall more obey than to the edge of steel,
Or force of Greekish sinews ; you shall do more
Than all the island kings, disarm great Hector.
Helen. 'Twill make us proud to be his ser-
vant, Paris ;
Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty
Gives us more palm in beauty than we have,
Yea, overshines ourself.
Par. Sweet, above thought I love thee.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. TROY. PANDARUS' Orchard.
Enter PANDARLS and TROILUS' Boy, meeting.
Pan. How now ! where 's thy master ? at
my cousin Cressida's ? [him thither.
Boy. No, sir ; he stays for you to conduct
Pan. O, here he comes.
Enter TROILUS.
How now, how now !
Tro. Sirrah, walk off. [Exit Boy.
Pan. Have you seen my cousin ?
Tro. No, Pandarus : I stalk about her door,
Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks
Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon,
And give me swift transportance to those fields
Where I may wallow in the lily beds
Propos'd for the deserver ! O gentle Pandarus,
From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings,
And fly with me to Cressid !
Pan. Walk here i' the orchard, I '11 bring her
straight. [Exit.
Tro. I am giddy; expectation whirls me round.
The imaginary relish is so sweet
That it enchants my sense : what will it be,
When that the wat'ry palate tastes indeed
Love's thrice-repured nectar? death, I fear me;
Swooning destruction ; or some joy too fine,
Too subtle-potent, tun'd too sharp in sweetness,
For the capacity of my ruder powers :
I fear it much ; and I do fear besides
That I shall lose distinction in my joys ;
As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps
The enemy flying.
Re-enter PANDARUS.
Pan. She's making her ready, she'll come
straight : you must be witty now. She does so
blush, and fetches her wind so short, as if she
were frayed with a sprite : I '11 fetch her. It
is the prettiest villain : she fetches her breath
as short as a new-ta'en sparrow. [Exit.
^ Tro. Even such a passion doth embrace my
bosom:
My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse ;
And all my powers do their bestowing lose,
Like vassalage at unawares encount'ring
The eye of majesty.
Re-enter PANDARUS with CRESSIDA.
Pan. Come, come, what need you blush?
shame's a baby. Here she is now : swear the
oaths now to her that you have sworn to me.
What, are you gone again? you must be
watched ere you be made tame, must you?
Come your ways, come your ways ; an you
draw backward, we'll put you i' the fills.
Why do you not speak to her? Come, draw
this curtain, and let's see your picture. Alas
the day, how loth you are to offend daylight !
an 'twere dark, you'd close sooner. So, so ;
rub on, and kiss the mistress. How now, a
kiss in fee-farm ! build there, carpenter ; the
air is sweet. Nay, you shall fight your hearts
out ere I part you. The falcon as the tercel,
for all the ducks i' the river : go to, go to.
Tro. You have bereft me of all words, lady.
Pan. Words pay no debts, give her deeds :
but she '11 bereave you o' the deeds too, if she
call your activity in question. What, billing
again ? Here's In witness whereof the parties
interchangeably Come in, come in : I '11 go
get a fire. [Exit.
Cres. Will you walk in, my lord ?
Tro. O Cressida, how often have I wished
me thus !
Cres. Wished, my lord ! The gods grant,
O my lord !
Tro. What should they grant ? what makes
this pretty abruption ? What too curious dreg
espies my sweet lady in the fountain of our love?
Cres. More dregs than water, if my fears
have eyes.
Tro. Fears make devils of cherubims ; they
never see truly.
Cres. Blind fear, that seeing reason leads,
finds safer footing than blind reason stumbling
without fear : to fear the worst oft cures the
worse.
Tro. O, let my lady apprehend no fear : in all
Cupid's pageant there is presented no monster.
Cres. Nor nothing monstrous neither ?
Tro. Nothing, but our undertakings ; when
we vow to weep seas, live in fire, eat rocks,
tame tigers ; thinking it harder for our mistress
to devise imposition enough than for us to
undergo any difficulty imposed. This is the
monstruosity in love, lady, that the will is
infinite, and the execution confined ; that the
desire is boundless, and the act a slave to limit.
Cres. They say, all lovers swear more per-
2 B
770
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
TACT HI.
formance than they are able, and yet reserve
an ability that they never perform ; vowing
more than the perfection of ten, and discharg-
ing less than the tenth part of one. They that
have the voice of lions and the act of hares,
are they not monsters ?
Tro. Are there such ? such are not we :
praise us as we are tasted, allow us as we
prove ; our head shall go bare till merit crown
it : no perfection in reversion shall have a
praise in present : we will not name desert
before his birth ; and, being born, his addition
shall be humble. Few words to fair faith :
Troilus shall be such to Cressid as what envy
can say worst shall be a mock for his truth ;
and what truth can speak truest not truer than
Troilus.
Cres. Will you walk in, my lord ?
Re-enter PANDARUS.
Pan. What, blushing still? have you not
done talking yet ?
Ores. Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I
dedicate to you.
Pan. I thank you for that : if my lord get
a boy of you, you '11 give him me. Be true to
my lord : if he flinch, chide me for it.
Tro. You know now your hostages ; your
uncle's word and my firm faith.
Pan. Nay, I '11 give my word for her too :
our kindred, though they be long ere they are
wooed, they are constant being won : they are
burs, I can tell you ; they '11 stick where they
are thrown.
Cres. Boldness comes to me now, and brings
me heart :
Prince Troilus, I have lov'd you night and day
For many weary months.
Tro. Why was my Cressid, then, so hard to
win ?
Cres. Hard to seem won ; but I was won, my
lord,
With the first glance that ever Pardon me,
If I confess much, you will play the tyrant.
I love you now ; but not, till now, so much
But I might master it : in faith, I lie ;
My thoughts were like unbridl'd children, grown
Too headstrong for their mother: see, we fools!
Why have I blabb'd ? who shall be true to us,
When we are so unsecret to ourselves ?
But, though I lov'd you well, I woo'd you not ;
And yet, good faith, I wish'd myself a man,
Or that we women had men's privilege
Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my
tongue ;
For, in this rapture, I shall surely speak
The thing I shall repent. See, see, your silence,
Cunning in dumbness, from my weakness draws
My very soul of conscience ! Stop my mouth.
Tro. And shall, albeit sweet music issues
thence.
Pan. Pretty, i' faith.
Cres. My lord, I do beseech you, pardon me ;
'Twas not my purpose thus to beg a kiss :
I am asham'd ; O heavens ! what have I done?
For this time will I take my leave, my lord.
Tro. Your leave, sweet Cressid !
Pan. Leave! an you take leave till to-morrow
morning,
Cres. Pray you, content you.
Tro. What offends you, lady ?
Cres. Sir, mine own company.
Tro. You cannot shun
Yourself.
Cres. Let me go and try :
I have a kind of self resides with you ;
But an unkind self, that itself will leave
To be another's fool. I would be gone :
Where is my wit ? I know not what I speak.
Tro. Well know they what they speak that
speak so wisely.
Cres. Perchance, my lord, I show more craft
than love ;
And fell so roundly to a large confession,
To angle for your thoughts : but you are wise ;
Or else you love not ; for to be wise and love
Exceeds man's might ; that dwells with gods
above.
Tro. Othat I thought it could be in a woman,
As, if it can, I will presume in you,
To feed for aye her lamp and flames of love ;
To keep her constancy in plight and youth,
Outliving beauty's outward, with a mind
That doth renew swifter than blood decays !
Or, that persuasion could but thus convince me,
That my integrity and truth to you
Might be affronted with the match and weight
Of such a winnow'd purity in love ;
How were I then uplifted ! but, alas !
I am as true as truth's simplicity,
And simpler than the infancy of truth.
Cres. In that I '11 war with you.
Tro. O virtuous fight,
When right with right wars who shall be most
right !
True swains in love shall, in the world to come,
Approve their truths by Troilus : when their
rhymes,
Full of protest, of oath, and big compare,
Want similes, truth tir'd with iteration,
As true as steel, as plantage to the moon,
As sun to day, as turtle to her mate,
As iron to adamant, as earth to the centre,
Yet, after all comparisons of truth,
SCENE III.]
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
771
As truth's authentic author to be cited,
As true as Troilus shall crown up the verse,
And sanctify the numbers.
Cres. Prophet may you be!
If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth,
When time is old and hath forgot itself,
When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy,
And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up,
And mighty states characterless are grated
To dusty nothing ; yet let memory
From false to false, among false maids in love,
Upbraid my falsehood ! when they have said
as false
As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth,
As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf,
Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son ;
Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood,
As false as Cressid.
Pan. Go to, a bargain made : seal it, seal it ;
I '11 be the witness. Here I hold your hand ;
here my cousin's. If ever you prove false one
to another, since I have taken such pains to
bring you together, let all pitiful goers -between
be called to the world's end after my name,
2all them all Pandars ; let all constant men be
Troiluses, all false women Cressids, and all
brokers between Pandars ! say, amen.
Tro. Amen.
Cres. Amen.
Pan. Amen. Whereupon I will show you
a chamber and a bed ; which bed, because it
shall not speak of your pretty encounters, press
it to death : away 1
And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here,
Bed, chamber, Pandar to provide this geer !
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. THE GRECIAN CAMP.
Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, DIOMEDES,
NESTOR, AJAX, MENELAUS, and CALCHAS.
Cal. Now, princes, for the service I have
done you
The advantage of the time prompts me aloud
To call for recompense. Appear it to your mind
That, through the sight I bear in things to Jove,
I have abandon'd Troy, left my possession,
Incurr'd a traitor's name ; expos'd myself,
From certain and possess'd conveniences,
To doubtful fortunes ; sequest'ring from me all
That time, acquaintance, custom, and condition
Made tame and most familiar to my nature ;
And here, to do you service, am become
As new into the world, strange, unacquainted :
1 do beseech you, as in way of taste,
To give me now a little benefit,
Out of those many register^ in promise,
Which, you say, live to come in my behalf.
Agam. What wouldst thou of us, Trojan?
make demand. [Antenor,
Cal. You have a Trojan prisoner, call'd
Yesterday took : Troy holds him very dear.
Oft have you, often have you thanks there-
fore,
Desir'd my Cressid in right great exchange,
Whom Troy hath still denied : but this Antenor,
I know, is such a wrest in their affairs
That their negotiations all must slack
Wanting his manage ; and they will almost
Give us a prince of blood, a son of Priam,
In change of him : let him be sent, great princes,
And he shall buy my daughter ; and her presence
Shall quite strike off all service I have done
In most accepted pain.
Agam. Let Diomedes bear him,
And bring us Cressid hither : Calchas shall have
What he requests of us Good Diomed,
Furnish you fairly for this interchange :
Withal, bring word if Hector will to-morrow
Be answered in his challenge : Ajax is ready.
Dio. This shall I undertake ; and 'tis a burden
Which I am proud to bear.
[Exeunt DIOMEDES and CALCHAS,
Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS, before
their tent.
Ulyss. Achilles stands i' the entrance of his
tent :
Please it our general to pass strangely by him,
As if he were forgot ; and, princes all,
Lay negligent and loose regard upon him :
I will come last. 'Tis like he '11 question me
Why such unplausive eyes are bent on him :
If so, I have derision med'cinable,
To use between your strangeness and his pride,
Which his own will r.hall have desire to drink :
It may do goodj pride hath no other glass
To show itself but pride ; for supple knees
Feed arrogance, and are the proud man's fees.
Agam. We'll execute your purpose, and
put on
A form of strangeness as we pass along ;
So do each lord ; and either greet him not,
Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him
more
Than if not look'd on. I will lead the way.
Achil. What, comes the general to speak
with me ? [Troy.
You know my mind, I '11 fight no more 'gainst
Agam. What says Achilles? would he aught
with us? [general?
Nest. Would you, my lord, aught with the
Achil. No.
772
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
[ACT in.
Nest. Nothing, my lord.
Agam. The better.
[Exeunt AGAMEMNON and NESTOR.
Achil. Good day, good day.
Men. How do you? how do you? {.Exit.
Achil. What, does the cuckold scorn me?
Ajax. How now, Patroclus?
Achil. Good-morrow, Ajax.
Ajax. Ha?
Achil. Good-morrow.
Ajax. Ay, and good next day too. [Exit.
Achil. What mean these fellows? Know
they not Achilles? [to bend,
Pair. They pass by strangely . they were us'd
To send their smiles before them to Achilles ;
To come as humbly as they us'd to creep
To holy altars.
Achil. What, am I poor of late ?
'Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with
fortune, [is,
Must fall out with men too. What the declin'd
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others
As feel on his own fall : for men, like butterflies,
Show not their mealy wings but to the summer ;
And not a man, for being simply man,
Hath any honour ; but honour for those honours
That are without him. as place, riches, and
favour,
Prizes of accident as oft as merit :
Which when they fall, as being slippery standers,
The love that lean'd on them as slippery too,
Do one pluck down another, and together
Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me ;
Fortune and I are friends ; I do enjoy
At ample point all that I did possess [out
Save these men's looks ; who do, methinks, find
Something not worth in me such rich beholding
As they have often given. Here is Ulysses :
I '11 interrupt his reading.
How now, Ulysses !
Ufyss. Now, great Thetis' son !
Achil. What are you reading ?
Ulyss. A strange fellow here
Writes me, That man, how dearly ever parted,
How much in having, or without or in,
Cannot make boast to have that which he hath,
Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection ;
As when his virtues shining upon others
Heat them, and they retort that heat again
To the first giver.
Achil. This is not strange, Ulysses.
The beauty that is borne here in the face
The bearer knows not, but commends itself
To others' eyes: nor doth the eye itself,
That most pure spirit of sense, behold itself,
Not going from itself; but eye to eye oppos'd:
Salutes each other with each other's form :
For speculation turns not to itself
Till it hath travell'd, and is mirror'd there
Where it may see itself. This is not strange
at all.
Ulyss. I do not strain at the position,
It is familiar, but at the author's drift ;
Who, in his circumstance, expressly proves
That no man is the lord of anything,
Though in and of him there be much consisting,
Till he communicate his parts to others ;
Nor doth he of himself know them for aught
Till he behold them form'd in the applause
Where they 're extended ; who, like an arch,
reverberates
The voice again ; or, like a gate of steel
Fronting the sun, receives and renders back
His figure and his heat. I was much rapt in
this;
And apprehended here immediately
The unknown Ajax.
Heavens, what a man is there ! a very horse ;
That has he knows not what. Nature, what
things there are
Most abject in regard and dear in use !
What things again most dear in the esteem
And poor in worth ! Now shall we see to-morrow
An act that very chance doth throw upon him,
Ajax renown'd. O heavens, what some men do,
While some men leave to do !
How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall,
Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes !
How one man eats into another's pride,
While pride is fasting in his wantonness !
To see these Grecian lords ! why, even already
They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder
As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast,
And great Troy shrinking.
Achil, I do believe it ; for they pass'd by me
As misers do by beggars, neither gave to me
Good word nor look. What, are my deeds
forgot? [back,
Ulyss. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,
A great-siz'd monster of ingratitudes :
Those scraps are good deeds past ; which are
devour'd
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
As done: perseverance, dear my lord,
Keeps honour bright : to have done is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail [way ;
In monumental mockery. Take the instant
For honour travels in a strait so narrow [path ;
Where one but goes abreast : keep, then, the
For emulation hath a thousand sons
That one by one pursue : if you give way,
Or hedge aside from the direct forthright,
Like to an enter'd tide they all rush by.
SCENE III.]
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
773
And leave you hindmost ;
Or, like a gallant horse fall'n in first rank,
Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,
O'er-run and trampl'd on : then what they do
in present, [yours ;
Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop
For time is like a fashionable host, [hand ;
That slightly shakes his parting guest by the
And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly,
Grasps in the comer : welcome ever smiles,
And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not
virtue seek
Remuneration for the thing it was ;
For beauty, wit,
High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,
Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all
To envious and calumniating time. [kin,
One touch of nature makes the whole world
That all, with one consent, praise new-born
gawds, [past ;
Though they are made and moulded of things
And give to dust that is a little gilt [eye
More laud than gilt o'er-dusted. The present
Praises the present object:
Then marvel not, thou great and complete man,
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax ;
Since things in motion sooner catch the eye
Than what not stirs. The cry went once on
thee.
And still it might ; and yet it may again,
If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive,
And case thy reputation in thy tent ;
Whose glorious deeds but in these fields of late
Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods them-
selves,
And drave great Mars to faction.
Achil. Of this my privacy
I have strong reasons.
Ulyss. But 'gainst your privacy
The reasons are more potent and heroical :
'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love
With one of Priam's daughters.
Achil. Ha ! known !
Ulyss. Is that a wonder ?
The providence that's in a watchful state
Knows almost every grain of Pluto's gold ;
Finds bottom in the uncomprehcnsive deeps ;
Keeps place with thought, and almost, like the
gods,
Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles.
There is a mystery with whom relation
Durst never meddle in the soul of state ;
Which hath an operation more divine
Than breath or pen can give expressure to :
All the commerce that you have had with Troy
As perfectly is ours as yours, my lord ;
And better would it fit Achilles much
To throw down Hector than Polyxena :
But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at borne,
When fame shall in our island sound her trump ;
And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing,
Great Hector's sister did Achilles win ;
Bttt our brave Ajax bravely beat down him.
Farewell, my lord: I as your lover speak;
The fool slides o'er the ice that you should
break. [Exit.
Pair. To this effect, Achilles, have I moved
you:
A woman impudent and mannish grown
Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man
In time of action. I stand condemn'd for this ;
They think my little stomach to the war,
And your great love to me, restrains you thus :
Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton
Cupid
Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold,
And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,
Be shook to air.
Achil. Shall Ajax fight with Hector ?
Patr. Ay, and perhaps receive much honour
by him.
Achil. I see my reputation is at stake;
My fame is shrewdly gor'd.
Patr. O, then, beware;
Those wounds heal ill that men do give them-
selves ;
Omission to do what is necessary
Seals a commission to a blank of danger ;
And danger, like an ague, subtly taints .
Even then when we sit idly in the sun.
Achil. Go call Thersites hither, sweet
Patroclus :
I '11 send the fool to Ajax, and desire him
To invite the Trojan lords, after the combat,
To see us here unarm'd : I have a woman's
longing,
An appetite that I am sick withal,
To see great Hector in his weeds of peace ;
To talk with him, and to behold his visage,
Even to my full of view. A labour sav'd !
Enter THERSITES.
Ther. A wonder !
Achil. What?
Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field
asking for himself.
Achil. How so?
Ther. He must fight singly to-morrow with
Hector ; and is so prophetically proud of an her-
oical cudgelling that he raves in saying nothing.
Achil. How can that be?
Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a
peacock, a stride and a stand : ruminates like
an hostess that hath no arithmetic but her brain
774
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
[ACT iv.
to set down her reckoning: bites his lip with a
politic regard, as who should say, There were
wit in this head, an 'twould out ; and so there
is ; but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint,
which will not show without knocking. The
man 's undone for ever ; for if Hector break not
his neck i' the combat, he '11 break it himself in
vain-glory. He knows not me : I said Good-
morrow^ Ajax ; and he replies, Thanks,
Agamemnon. What think you of this man,
that takes me for the general ? He is grown a
very land fish, languageless, a monster. A
plague of opinion ! a man may wear it on both
sides, like a leather jerkin.
Ach.il. Thou must be my ambassador to him,
Thersites.
Ther. Who, I? why, he'll answer nobody;
he professes not answering : speaking is for
beggars ; he wears his tongue in 's arms. I
will put on his presence : let Patroclus make
demands to me, you shall see the pageant of
Ajax.
Achil. To him, Patroclus: tell him, I
humbly desire the valiant Ajax to invite the
most valorous Hector to come unarmed to my
tent ; and to procure safe conduct for his person
of the magnanimous and most illustrious six-or-
seven -times-honoured captain -general of the
Grecian army, Agamemnon. Do this.
Pair. Jove bless great Ajax !
Ther. Hum!
Pair. I come from the worthy Achilles,
Ther. Ha!
Pair. Who most humbly desires you to invite
Hector to his tent,
Ther. Hum!
Pair. And to procure safe conduct from
Agamemnon.
Ther. Agamemnon!
Pair. Ay, my lord.
Ther. Ha!
Patr. What say you to 't ?
Ther. God be wi' you, with all my heart.
Patr. Your answer, sir.
Ther. If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven
o'clock it will go one way or other : howsoever,
he shall pay for me ere he has me.
Patr. Your answer, sir.
Ther. Fare you well, with all my heart.
Achil. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he?
Ther. No, but he 's out o' tune thus. What
music will be in him when Hector has knocked
out his brains I know not: but, I am sure,
none ; unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews
to make catlings on.
Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him
straight.
Ther. Let me bear another to his horse ; for
that 's the more capable creature.
Achil. My mind is troubl'd, like a fountain
stirr'd ;
And I myself see not the bottom of it.
[Exeunt ACHIL. and PATROCLUS.
Ther. Would the fountain of your mind were
clear again, that I might water an ass at it ! I
had rather be a tick in a sheep than such a
valiant ignorance. [Exit.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. TROY. A Street.
Enter^ at one side, ./ENEAS, and Servant with
a torch; at the other, PARIS, DEIPHOBUS,
ANTENOR, DIOMEDES, and others, -with
torches.
'Par. See, ho ! who 's that there ?
Dei. 'Tis the Lord ^Eneas.
Ai.ne. Is the prince there in person?
Had I so good occasion to lie long [business
As you, Prince Paris, nothing but heavenly
Should rob my bed-mate of my company.
Dio. That's my mind too. Good-morrow,
Lord yfineas. [hand,
Par. A valiant Greek, ^Eneas, take his
Witness the process of your speech, wherein
You told how Diomed, a whole week by days,
Did haunt you in the field.
ALne* Health to you, valiant sir,
During all question of the gentle truce ;
But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance
As heart can think or courage execute.
Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces.
Our bloods are now in calm ; and, so long,
health ;
But when contention and occasion meet,
By Jove, I '11 play the hunter for thy life
With all my force, pursuit, and policy.
ALne. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will
fly [ness,
With his face backward. In humane gentle-
Welcome to Troy ! now, by Anchises' life,
Welcome indeed ! By Venus' hand I swear
No man alive can love, in such a sort,
The thing he means to kill, more excellently.
Dio. We sympathise. Jove, let ^neas live,
If to my sword his fate be not the glory,
A thousand complete courses of the sun !
But, in mine emulous honour, let him die,
With every joint a wound, and that to-morrow !
ALne. We know each other well.
Dio. We do ; and long to know each other
worse.
SCENE I.]
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
775
Par. This is the most despiteful gentle greet-
ing,
The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of.
What business, lord, so early?
j&ne. I was sent for to the king ; but why,
I know not. [this Greek
Par. His purpose meets you : 'twas to bring
To Calchas' house ; and there to render him,
For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid :
Let's have your company; or, if you please,
Haste there before us : I constantly do think,
Or, rather, call my thought a certain know-
ledge,
My brother Troilus lodges there to-night :
Rouse him, and give him note of our approach,
With the whole quality wherefore: I fear
We shall be much unwelcome.
ALne. That I assure you :
Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece
Than Cressid borne from Troy.
Par. There is no help ;
The bitter disposition of the time
Will have it so. On, lord ; we '11 follow you.
j&ne. Good-morrow, all.
[Exit, with Servant.
Par. And tell me, noble Diomed, faith,
tell me true,
Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship,
Who, in your thoughts, merits fair Helen best,
Myself or Menelaus?
Dio. Both alike :
He merits well to have her, that doth seek her,
Not making any scruple of her soilure,
With such a hell of pain and world of charge ;
And you as well to keep her, that defend her,
Not palating the taste of her dishonour,
With such a costly loss of wealth and friends :
He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up
The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece ;
You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins
Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors :
Both merits pois'd, each weighs nor less nor
more ;
But he as he, each heavier for a whore.
Par. You are too bitter to your country-
woman.
Dio. She 's bitter to her country. Hear me,
Paris :
For every false drop in her bawdy veins
A Grecian's life hath sunk ; for every scruple
Of her contaminated carrion weight [speak,
A Trojan hath been slain : since she could
She hath not given so many good words breath
As for her Greeks and Trojans suffer'd death.
Par. Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do,
Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy :
But we in silence hold this virtue well,
We '11 not commend what we intend to sell.
Here lies our way. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. TROY. Court ^PANDARUS'
House.
Enter TROILUS and CRESSIDA.
Tro. Dear, trouble not yourself: the morn
is cold. [uncle down ;
Cres. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine
He shall unbolt the gates.
Tro. Trouble him not ;
To bed, to bed : sleep kill those pretty eyes,
And give as soft attachment to thy senses
As infants empty of all thought !
Cres. Good -morrow, then.
Tro. I pr'ythee now, to bed.
Cres. Are you aweary of me ?
Tro. O Cressida ! but that the busy day,
Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald crows,
And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer,
I would not from thee.
Cres. Night hath been too brief.
Tro. Beshrew the witch! with venomous
wights she stays
As tediously as hell ; but flies the grasps of love
With wings more momentary-swift than thought
You will catch cold, and curse me.
Cres. Pr'ythee, tarry;
You men will never tarry.
foolish Cressid ! I might have still held off,
And then you would have tarried. Hark !
there's one up. [here?
Pan. [Within.} What, 's all the doors open
Tro. It is your uncle. [mocking :
Cres. A pestilence on him ! now will he be
1 shall have such a life !
Enter PANDARUS.
Pan. How now, how now? how go maiden-
heads?
Here, you maid ! where 's my cousin Cressid?
Cres. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking
uncle !
You bring me to do, and then you flout me too.
Pan. To do what? to do what? let her say
what: what have I brought you to do?
Cres. Come, come, beshrew your heart!
you '11 ne'er be good,
Nor suffer others.
Pan. Ha, ha ! Alas, poor wretch ! ah, poor
capocchia! hast not slept to-night? would he
not, a naughty man, let it sleep? a bugbear
take him !
Cres. Did not I toll you? would he were
knock'd i' the head ! [Knocking.
Who 's that at door? good uncle, go and see.
776
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
[ACT iv.
My lord, come you again into my chamber :
You smile, and mock me, as if I meant naughtily.
Tro. Ha! ha!
Cres. Come, you are deceiv'd, I think of no
such thing. [Knocking.
How earnestly they knock ! Pray you, come in :
I would not for half Troy have you seen here.
[Exeunt TROILUS and CRESSIDA.
Pan. [Going' to the door.'] Who's there?
what's the matter? will you beat down the
door? How now? what's the matter?
Enter ^ENEAS.
&ne. Good-morrow, lord, good-morrow.
Pan. Who's there? my lord yEneas? By
my troth, I knew you not: what news with
you so early?
j3Lne. Is not Prince Troilus here?
Pan. Here ! what should he do here ?
ALne. Come, he is here, my lord; do not
deny him :
It doth import him much to speak with me.
Pan. Is he here, say you? 'tis more than I
know, I'll be sworn. For my own part, I
came in late. What should he do here?
j*Ene. Who! nay, then: come, come,
you '11 do him wrong ere you are ware : you Ml
be so true to him to be false to him ; do not
you know of him, but yet go fetch him hither ;
go-
As PANDARUS is going out, re-enter TROILUS.
Tro. How now ! what 's the matter?
sEne. My lord, I scarce have leisure to
salute you,
My matter is so rash. There is at hand
Paris your brother, and Deiphobus,
The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor
Deliver'd to us ; and for him forthwith,
Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour,
We must give up to Diomedes' hand
The Lady Cressida.
Tro. Is it so concluded?
sEne. By Priam, and the general state of
Troy:
They are at hand, and ready to effect it.
Tro. How my achievements mock me !
I will go meet them : and, my lord yEneas,
We met by chance ; you did not find me here.
sEne. Good, good, my lord ; the secrets of
nature
Have not more gift in taciturnity.
[Exeunt TROILUS and ^ENEAS.
Pan. Is't possible? no sooner got but lost?
The devil take Antenor ! the young prince will
go mad : a plague upon Antenor ! I would
they had broke 's neck !
Re-enter CRESSIDA.
Cres. How now! what is the matter? who
was here?
Pan. Ah, ah !
Cres. Why sigh you so profoundly? where 's
my lord? gone! tell me, sweet uncle, what's
the matter?
Pan. Would I were as deep under the earth
as I am above !
Cres. O the gods! what's the matter?
Pan. Pr'ythee, get thee in. Would thou
hadst ne'er been born? I knew thou wouldst
be his death ! O, poor gentleman ! A plague
upon Antenor !
Cres. Good uncle, I beseech you, on my
knees I beseech you, what 's the matter ?
Pan. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must
be gone ; thou art changed for Antenor : thou
must to thy father, and be gone from Troilus :
'twill be his death; 'twill be his bane; he
cannot bear it.
Cres. O you immortal gods ! I will not go.
Pan. Thou must.
Cres. I will not, uncle: I have forgot my
father;
I know no touch ot consanguinity ;
No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me
As the sweet Troilus. O you gods divine !
Make Cressid's name the very crown of false-
hood [death
If ever she leave Troilus ! Time, force, and
Do to this body what extremes you can ;
But the strong base and building of my love
Is as the very centre of the earth,
Drawing all things to it. I '11 go in and weep,
Pan. Do, do.
Cres. Tear my bright hair, and scratch my
praised cheeks ; [heart
Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my
With sounding Troilus. I will not go from
Troy. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. TROY. Street before PANDARUS'
House.
Enter PARIS, TROILUS, AENEAS, DEIPHOBUS,
ANTENOR, and DIOMEDES.
Par. It is great morning ; and the how
prefix'd
Of her delivery to this valiant Greek
Comes fast upon : good my brother Troilus,
Tell you the lady what she is to do,
And haste her to the purpose.
Tro. Walk in to her house ;
I '11 bring her to the Grecian presently :
And to his hand when I deliver her, /
SCENE IV.]
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
777
Think it an altar ; and thy brother Troilus
A priest, there offering to it his own heart.
[Exit.
Par. I know what 'tis to love ;
And would, as I shall pity, I could help !
Please you walk in, my lords. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. TROY. A Room in PANDARUS'
House.
Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA.
Pan. Be moderate, be moderate.
Cres. Why tell you me of moderation ?
The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste,
And violenteth in a sense as strong [it?
As that which causeth it : how can I moderate
If I could temporize with my affection,
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,
The like allayment could I give my grief :
My love admits no qualifying dross ;
No more my grief, in such a precious loss.
Pan. Here, here, here he comes.
Enter TROILUS.
Ah, sweet ducks !
Cres. O Troilus ! Troilus ! [Embracing- him.
Pan. What a pair of spectacles is here ! Let
me embrace too. O heart, as the goodly saying
is,
O heart, heavy heart,
Why sigh'st thou without breaking?
where he answers again,
Because thou canst not ease thy smart
By silence nor by speaking.
There was never a truer rhyme. Let us cast
away nothing, for we may live to have need of
such a verse : we see it, we see it. How now,
lambs ! [purity
Tro. Cressid, I love thee in so strain'd a
That the bless'd gods, as angry with my fancy,
More bright in zeal than the devotion which
Cold lips blow to their deities, take thee from
me.
Cres. Have the gods envy?
Pan. Ay, ay, ay, ay ; 'tis too plain a case.
Cres. And is it true that I must go from Troy?
Tro. A hateful truth.
Cres. What, and from Troilus too?
Tro. From Troy and Troilus.
Cres. Is it possible?
Tro. And suddenly ; where injury of chance
Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips
Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents
Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows
Even in the birth of our own lab'ring breath :
We two, that with so many thousand sighs
Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves
With the rude brevity and discharge of one.
Injurious time now, with a robber's haste,
Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how :
As many farewells as be stars in heaven,
With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to
them,
He fumbles up into a loose adieu ;
And scants us with a single famish'd kiss,
Distasted with the salt of broken tears.
JEne. [ Within.'} My lord, is the lady ready?
Tro. Hark ! you are call'd. Some say the
Genius so
Cries, Come! to him that instantly must die.
Bid them have patience ; she shall come anon.
Pan. Where are my tears? rain, to lay this
wind, or my heart will be blown up by the
root? [Exit.
Cres. I must, then, to the Grecians ?
Tro. No remedy.
Cres. A woeful Cressid 'mongst the merry
Greeks!
When shall we see again ?
Tro. Hear me, my love. Be thou but true
of heart, [is this ?
Cres. I true ! how now ! what wicked deem
Tro. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly,
For it is parting from us :
I speak not be thou true, as fearing thee ;
For I will throw my glove to death himself
That there 's no maculation in thy heart :
But be thou true, say I, to fashion in
My sequent protestation ; be thou true,
And I will see thee. [dangers
Cres. O, you shall be expos'd, my lord, to
As infinite as imminent ! but I '11 be true.
Tro. And I '11 grow friend with danger.
Wear this sleeve. [see you ?
Cres. And you this glove. When shall I
Tro. I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels,
To give thee nightly visitation.
But yet be true.
Cres. O heavens ! be true, again !
Tro. Hear why I speak it, love:
The Grecian youths are full of quality ;
They're loving, well compos'd, with gifts of
nature flowing,
And swelling o'er with arts and exercise :
How novelty may move, and parts with person,
Alas, a kind of godly jealousy,
Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin,
Makes me afeard.
Cres. O heavens ! you love me not.
Tro. Die I a villain, then !
In this I do not call your faith in question
So mainly as my merit ; I cannot sing,
Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk,
778
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
[ACT iv.
Nor play at subtle games ; fair virtues all,
To which the Grecians are most prompt and
pregnant :
But I can tell, that in each grace of these
There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil
That tempts most cunningly: but be not tempted.
Ores. Do you think I will ?
Tro. No.
But something may be done that we will not :
And sometimes we are devils to ourselves,
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
Presuming on their changeful potency.
^Ene. \Within.~\ Nay, good my lord,
Tro. Come, kiss ; and let us part.
Par. {Within.} Brother Troilus !
Tro. Good brother, come you hither ;
And bring ^Eneas and the Grecian with you.
Ores. My lord, will you be true ?
Tro. Who, I ? alas, it is my vice, my fault :
While others fish with craft for great opinion,
I with great truth catch mere simplicity;
Whilst some with cunning gild their copper
crowns,
With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare.
Fear not my truth : the moral of my wit
Is plain and true ; there 's all the reach of it.
Enter AENEAS, PARIS, ANTENOR, DEIPHOBUS,
and DIOMEDES.
Welcome, Sir Diomed ! here is the lady
Which for An tenor we deliver you:
At the port, lord, I '11 give her to thy hand ;
And by the way possess thee what she is.
Entreat her fair ; and, by my soul, fair Greek,
If e'er thou stand at mercy of my sword,
Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe
As Priam is in Ilion.
Dio. Fair Lady Cressid,
So please you, save the thanks this prince
expects :
The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek,
Pleads your fair usage ; and to Diomed
You shall be mistress, and command him wholly.
Tro. Grecian,thou dost not use mecourteously ,
To shame the zeal of my petition to thee
In praising her : I tell thee, lord of Greece,
She is as far high-soaring o'er thy praises
As thou unworthy to be call'd her servant.
I charge thee use her well, even for my charge ;
For, by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not,
Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard,
I '11 cut thy throat.
Dio. O, be not mov'd, Prince Troilus :
Let me be privileg'd by my place and message
To be a speaker free ; when I am hence
I '11 answer to my lust: and know you, lord,
I '11 nothing do on charge : to her own worth
She shall be priz'd; but that you say/' be 't so,"
I '11 speak it in my spirit and honour, ''no."
Tro. Come, to the port. I'll tell thee,
Diomed, [head.
This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy
Lady, give me your hand ; and, as we walk,
To our own selves bend we our needful talk.
[Exeunt TRO., CRES., and DIOMEDES.
[ Trumpet within.
Par. Hark ! Hector's trumpet.
j&ne. How have we spent this morning?
The prince must think me tardy and remiss,
That swore to ride before him to the field.
Par* 'Tis Troilus' fault. Come, come, to
field with him.
Dio. Let us make ready straight.
j$Lne. Yea, with a bridegroom's fresh alacrity
Let us address to tend on Hector's heels :
The glory of our Troy doth this day lie
On his fair worth and single chivalry.
{Exeunt.
SCENE V, THE GRECIAN CAMP. Lists set out.
Enter A.} AX, armed; AGAMEMNON, ACHILLES,
PATROCLUS, MENELAUS, ULYSSES, NESTOR,
and others*
Agam, Here art thou in appointment fresh
and fair,
Anticipating time. With starting courage
Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy,
Thou dreadful Ajax ; that the appalled air
May pierce the head of the great combatant,
And hale him hither.
Ajax. Thou, trumpet, there 's my purse,
Now crack thy lungs and split thy brazen pipe :
Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek
Out-swell the colic of puff'd Aquilon :
Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout
blood ;
Thou blow'st for Hector. {Trumpet sounds.
Ulyss, No trumpet answers.
Achil. 'Tis but early day.
Agam. Is not yon Diomed, with Calchas'
daughter ?
Ulyss. 'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait ;
He rises on the toe : that spirit of his
In aspiration lifts him from the earth.
Enter DIOMEDES, with CRESSIDA.
Agam. Is this the lady Cressid?
Dio. Even she ?
Agam. Most dearly welcome to the Greeks,
sweet lady.
Nest. Our general doth salute you with a kiss.
Ulyss. Yet is the kindness but particular;
'Twere better she were kiss'd in general.
SCENB V. ]
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
779
Nest. And very courtly counsel: I '11 begin.
So much for Nestor. [fair lady.
Achil. I '11 take that winter from your lips,
Achilles bids you welcome.
Men. I had good argument for kissing once.
Patr. But that's no argument for kissing
now ;
For thus popp'd Paris in his hardiinent,
And parted thus you and your argument.
Ulyss. O deadly gall, and theme of all our
scorns !
For which we lose our heads to gild his horns.
Patr. The first was Menelaus' kiss; this,
mine;
Patroclus kisses you.
Men. O, this is trim !
Patr. Paris and I kiss evermore for him.
Men. I '11 have my kiss, sir. Lady, by your
leave.
Cres. In kissing, do you render or receive?
Patr. Both take and give.
Cres. I'll make my match to live,
The kiss you take is better than you give ;
Therefore no kiss.
Men. I '11 give you boot, I '11 give you three
for one. [none.
Cres. You 're an odd man ; give even or give
Men. An odd man, lady? every man is odd.
Cres. No, Paris is not; for, you know, 'tis
true,
That you are odd, and he is even with you.
Men. You fillip me o' the head.
Cres. No, I '11 be sworn.
Ulyss. It were no match, your nail against
his horn.
May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you ?
Cres. You may.
Ulyss. I do desire it.
Cres. Why, beg then, do.
Ulyss. Why then, for Venus' sake, give me
a kiss
When Helen is a maid again, and his.
Cres. I am your debtor, claim it when 'tis
due. [you.
Ulyss. Never 's my day, and then a kiss of
Dio. Lady, a word. I'll bring you to your
father.
[DIOMEDES leads out CRESSIDA.
Nest. A woman of quick sense.
Ulyss. Fie, fie upon her !
There 's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip,
Nay, her foot speaks : her wanton spirits look
out
At every joint and motive of her body.
O, these encounterers, so glib of tongue,
That give a coasting welcome ere it comes,
And wide unclasp the tables cf their thoughts
To every ticklish reader ! set them down
For sluttish spoils of opportunity,
And daughters of the game. [ Trumpet within.
All. The Trojans' trumpet.
Agam. Yonder comes the troop.
Enter HECTOR, armed; ^ENEAS, TROILUS, and
other Trojans, with Attendants.
ALne. Hail, all you state of Greece! what
shall be done [purpose
To him that victory commands? Or do you
A victor shall be known? will you the knights
Shall to the edge of all extremity
Pursue each other : or shall be divided
By any voice or order of the field?
Hector bade ask.
Agam. Which way would Hector have it ?
sne. He cares not ; he '11 obey conditions.
Achil. 'Tis done like Hector; but securely
done,
A little proudly, and great deal misprizing
The knight oppos'd.
jne. If not Achilles, sir,
What is your name?
Achil. If not Achilles, nothing.
ALne. Therefore Achilles. But, whate'er,
know this:
In the extremity of great and little
Valour and pride excel themselves in Hector;
The one almost as infinite as all,
The other blank as nothing. Weigh him well,
And that which looks like pride is courtesy.
This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood :
In love whereof, half Hector stays at home ;
Half heart, hah hand, half Hector comes to
seek [Greek.
This blended knight, half Trojan and half
Achil. A maiden battle then? O, I perceive
you.
Re-enter DIOMEDES.
Agam. Here is Sir Diomed. Go, gentle
knight,
Stand by our Ajax ; as you and Lord ^neas
Consent upon the order of their fight
So be it ; either to the uttermost,
Or else a breath : the combatants being kin
Half stints their strife before their strokes begin.
[AjAX and HECTOR enter the lists.
Ulyss. They are oppos'd already.
Agam. What Trojan is that same that looks
so heavy? [knight;
Ulyss. The youngest son of Priam, a true
Not yet mature, yet matchless : firm of word ;
Speaking in deeds, and deedless in his tongue ;
Not soon provok'd, nor, being provok'd, soon
calm'd :
7 8o
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
[ACT iv.
His heart and hand both open and both free ;
For what he has he gives, what thinks he shows ;
Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty,
Nor dignifies an impure thought with breath :
Manly as Hector, but more dangerous ;
For Hector, in his blaze of wrath, subscribes
To tender objects; but he, in heat of action,
Is more vindicative than jealous love:
They call him Troilus ; and on him erect
A second hope, as fairly built as Hector.
Thus says yEneas ; one that knows the youth
Even to his inches, and, with private soul,
Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me.
[Alarum. HECTOR and AJAX _/%>/*/.
Again. They are in action.
Nest. Now, Ajax, hold thine own !
Tro. Hector, thou sleep'st ;
Awake thee !
Agam. His blows are well disposed : there,
Ajax !
Dio. You must no more. [ Trumpets cease.
&ne. Princes, enough, so please you.
Ajax. I am not warm yet, let us fight again.
Dio. As Hector pleases.
Hect. Why, then will I no more :
Thou art, great lord, my father's sister's son,
A cousin-german to great Priam's seed ;
The obligation of our blood forbids
A gory emulation 'twixt us twain ;
Were thy commixtion Greek and Trojan so,
That thou could'st say This hand is Grecian all,
And this is Trojan; the sinews of this leg
All Greek, and this all Troy; my mother's blood
Runs on the dexter cheek , and this sinister
Bounds in my fathers ; by Jove multipotent,
Thou shouldst not bear from me a Greekish
member
Wherein my swcrd had not impressure made
Of our rank feud : but the just gods gainsay
That any drop thou borrow'dst from thy mother,
My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword
Be drain'd ! Let me embrace thee, Ajax:
By him that thunders, thou hast lusty arms ;
Hector would have them fall upon him thus :
Cousin, all honour to thee !
Ajax. I thank thee, Hector :
Thou art too gentle and too free a man :
I came to kill thee, cousin, and bear hence
A great addition earned in thy death.
Hect. Not Neoptolemus so mirable,
On whose bright crest Fame with her loud'st
Oyes
Cries, J^his is he, could promise to himself
A thought of added honour torn from Hector.
sEne. There is expectance here from both
the sides
What further you will do.
Hect. We '11 answer it ;
The issue is embracement : Ajax, farewell.
Ajax. If I might in entreaties find success,
As selcl' I have the chance, I would desire
My famous cousin to our Grecian tents.
Dio. 'Tis Agamemnon's wish ; and great
Achilles
Doth long to see unarm'd the valiant Hector.
Hect. ./Eneas, call my brother Troilus to me :
And signify this loving interview
To the expecters of our Trojan part ; [cousin ;
Desire them home. Give me thy hand, my
I will go eat with thee, and see your knights.
Ajax. Great Agamemnon comes to meet us
here. [by name ;
Hect. The worthiest of them tell me name
But for Achilles, mine own searching eyes
Shall find him by his large and portly size.
Agam. Worthy of arms ! as welcome as to one
That would be rid of such an enemy ;
But that 's no welcome : understand more clear,
What's past and what's to come is strew'd
with husks
And formless ruin of oblivion ;
But in this extant moment, faith and troth,
Strain'd purely from all hollow bias-drawing,
Bids thee, with most divine integrity,
From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome.
Hect. I thank thee, most imperious Agamem-
non, [to you.
Agam. My well-fam'd lord of Troy, no less
\To TROILUS.
Men. Let me confirm my princely brother's
greeting ;
You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither.
Hect. Who must we answer?
&ne. The noble Menelaus.
Hect. O you, my lord? by Mars his gauntlet,
thanks !
Mock not, that I affect the untraded oath ;
Your quondam wife swears still by Venus' glove :
She 's well, but bade me not commend her to
you. [theme.
Men. Name her not now, sir ; she 's a deadly
Hect. O, pardon ; I offend. [oft,
Nest. I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee
Labouring for destiny, make cruel way
Through ranks of Greekish youth j and I have
seen thee,
As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed,
Despising many forfeits and subduements,
When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i' the
air,
Not letting it decline on the declin'd,
That I have said to some my standers-by,
Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life!
And I have seen thee pause, and take thy breath,
SCENE V.]
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
781
When that a ring of Greeks have hemm'dthee in,
Like an Olympian wrestling : this have I seen ;
But this thy countenance, still lock'd in steel,
I never saw till now. I knew thy grandsire,
And once fought with him: he was a soldier good;
But, by great Mars, the captain of us all,
Never like thee. Let an old man embrace thee ;
And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents.
^.ne. 'Ti^ the old Nestor.
Hect. Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle,
That hast so long walk'd hand in hand with
time:
Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee.
Nest. I would my arms could match thee in
contention,
As they contend with thee in courtesy.
Hect. I would they could.
Nest. Ha! [morrow:
By this white beard, I 'd fight with thee to-
Well, welcome, welcome ! I have seen the time.
Ulyss. I wonder now how yonder city stands,
When we have here her base and pillar by us.
Hect. I know your favour, Lord Ulysses, well.
Ah, sir, there 's many a Greek and Trojan dead,
Since first I saw yourself and Diomed
In I lion, on your Greekish embassy. [ensue :
Ulyss. Sir, I foretold you then what would
My prophecy is but half his journey yet ;
For yonder walls, that pertly front your town,
Yond towers, whose wanton tops do buss the
clouds,
Must kiss their own feet.
Hect. I must not believe you :
There they stand yet ; and modestly I think
The fall of every Phrygian stone will cost
A drop of Grecian blood : the end crowns all ;
And that old common arbitrator, time,
Will one day end it.
Ulyss. So to him we leave it.
Most gentle and most valiant Hector, welcome :
After the general, I beseech you next
To feast with me, and see me at my tent.
Achil. I shall forestall thee, Lord Ulysses,
thou !
Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee ;
I have with exact view perus'd thee, Hector,
And quoted joint by joint.
Hect. Is this Achilles?
Achil. I am Achilles. [thee.
Hect. Stand fair, I pray thee: let me look on
Achil. Behold thy fill.
Hect. Nay, I have done already.
AchiL Thou art too brief : I will the second
time,
As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb.
Hect. O, like a book of sport thou 'It read
me o'er ;
But there 's more in me than thou understand'st.
Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye?
Achil. Tell me, you heavens, in which part
of his body [there,
Shall I destroy him? whither there, or there, or
That I may give the local wound a name,
And make distinct the very breach whereout
Hector's great spirit flew : answer me, heavens !
Hect. It would discredit the bless'd gods,
proud man,
To answer such a question : stand again :
Think'st thou to catch my life so pleasantly.
As to prenominate in nice conjecture
Where thou wilt hit me dead?
Achil. I tell thee, yea.
Hect. Wert thou an oracle to tell me so,
I 'd not believe thee. Henceforth guard thee
well;
For I '11 not kill thee there, nor there, nor there ;
But, by the forge that stithied Mars his helm,
I Ml kill thee everywhere, yea, o'er and o'er.
You wisest Grecians, pardon me this brag,
His insolence draws folly from my lips ;
But I Ml endeavour deeds to match these words,
Or may I never,
Ajax. Do not chafe thee, cousin :
And you, Achilles, let these threats alone,
Till accident or purpose bring you to 't :
You may have every day enough of Hector,
If you have stomach ; the general state, I fear,
Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him.
Hect. I pray you, let us see you in the field :
We have had pelting wars since you refus'd
The Grecians' cause.
Achil. Dost thou entreat me, Hector?
To-morrow do I meet thee, fell as death;
To-night all friends.
Hect. Thy hand upon that match.
Agam. First, all you peers of Greece, go to
my tent ;
There in the full convive we : afterwards,
As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall
Concur together, severally entreat him.
Beat loud the tabourines, let the trumpets blow,
That this great soldier may his welcome know.
\Exeunt all but TRO. and ULYSSES.
Tro. My Lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech
you,
In what place of ths field doth Calchas keep?
Ulyss. At Menelaus' tent, most princely
Troilus :
There Diomed doth feast with him to-night ;
Who neither looks upon the heaven nor earth,
But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view
On the fair Cressid.
Tro. Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you
so much,
782
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
[ACT v.
After we part from Agamemnon's tent,
To bring me thither ?
Ulyss. You shall command me, sir.
As gentle tell me, of what honour was
This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover there
That wails her absence?
Tro. Q, sir, to such as boasting show their
scars
A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord?
She was belov'd, she lov'd ; she is, and doth :
But, still, sweet love is food for fortune's tooth.
[Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I. THE GRECIAN CAMP.
ACHILLES' Tent.
Before
Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS.
Achil. I '11 heat his blood with Greekish wine
to-night,
Which with my scimitar I '11 cool to-morrow.
Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.
Pair. Here comes Thersites.
Enter THERSITES.
Achil. How now, thou core of envy!
Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news?
Ther. Why, thou picture of what thou
seemest, and idol of idiot worshippers, here 's
a letter for thee.
Achil. From whence, fragment?
Ther. Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.
Patr. Who keeps the tent now? [wound.
Ther. The surgeon's box, or the patient's
Patr. Well said Adversity! and what need
these tricks?
Ther. Pr'ythee, be silent, boy ; I profit not
by thy talk ; thou art thought to be Achilles'
male varlet.
Patr. Male varlet, you rogue ! what's that?
Ther. Why, his masculine whore. Now, the
rotten diseases of the south, the guts griping,
ruptures, catarrhs, loads o' gravel i' the back,
lethargies, cold palsies, raw eyes, dirt-rotten
livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full of im-
posthume, sciaticas, limekilns i' the palm,
incurable bone-ache, and the rivelled fee-
simple of the tetter, take and take again such
preposterous discoveries !
Patr. Why, thou damnable box of envy,
thou, what meanest thou to curse thus?
Ther. Do I curse thee?
Patr. Why, no, you ruinous butt ; you whore-
son indistinguishable cur, no.
Ther. No I why art thou, then, exasperate,
thou idle immaterial skein of sleave-silk, thou
green sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel
of a prodigal's purse, thou? Ah, how the poor
world is pestered with such water-flies,
diminutives of nature !
Patr. Out, gall !
Ther. Finch egg ! [quite
Achil. My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted
From my great purpose in to-morrow's battle.
Here is a letter from Queen Hecuba ;
A token from her daughter, my fair love ;
Both taxing me and gaging me to keep
An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it :
Fall, Greeks ; fail, fame ; honour ; or go or stay ;
My major vow lies here, this I '11 obey.
Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent;
This night in banqueting must all be spent.
Away, Patroclus!
\_Exeunt ACHIL. and PATR.
Ther. With too much blood and too little
brain these two may run mad; but, if with too
much brain and too little blood they do, I '11 be
a curer of madmen. Here 's Agamemnon, an
honest fellow enough, and one that loves quails ;
but he has not so much brain as ear-wax : and
the goodly transformation of Jupiter there, his
brother, the bull, the primitive statue, and
oblique memorial of cuckolds ; a thrifty shoeing-
horn in a chain, hanging at his brother's leg,
to what form, but that he is, should wit larded
with malice, and malice forced with wit, turn
him to? To an ass, were nothing; he is both
ass and ox: to an ox, were nothing; he is both
ox and ass. To be a dog, a mule, a cat, a
fitchew, a toad, a lizard, an owl, a puttock, or
a herring without a roe, I would not care; but
to be Menelaus, I would conspire against
destiny. Ask me not what I would be, if I
were not Thersites; for I care not to be the
louse of a lazar, so I were not Menelaus.
Hoy-day ! spirits and fires !
Enter HECTOR, TROILUS, AJAX, AGAMEM-
NON, ULYSSES, NESTOR, MENELAUS, and
DIOMEDES, -with lights.
Agam. We go wrong, we go wrong.
Ajax. No, yonder 'tis ;
There, where we see the lights.
Hect. I trouble you.
Ajax. No, not a whit.
Ulyss. Here comes himself to guide you.
Re-enter ACHILLES.
Achil. Welcome, brave Hector; welcome,
princes all. [good night.
Again. So now, fair prince of Troy, I bid
Ajax commands the guard to tend on you.
SCENE II.]
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
783
Hect. Thanks, and good night to the Greeks'
general.
Men. Good-night, my lord.
Hect. Good-night, sweet Lord Menelaus.
Ther. Sweet draught : sweet, quoth 'a! sweet
sink, sweet sewer.
AchiL Good-night [or tarry.
And welcome, both at once, to those that go
Agam. Good-night.
{Exeunt AGAM. and MEN.
AchiL Old Nestor tarries ; and you too,
Diomed,
Keep Hector company an hour or two.
Dio. I cannot, lord ; I have important
business, [Hector.
The tide whereof is now. Good-night, great
Hect. Give me your hand. [tent ;
Ulyss. Follow his torch ; he goes to Calchas'
I '11 keep you company. [Aside to TROILUS.
Tro. Sweet sir, you honour me.
Hect. And so good-night.
{Exit Dio.'; ULYSS. and TRO. following.
Achil. Come, come, enter my tent.
{Exeunt ACHIL., HECT., AJAX, at/NEST.
Ther. That same Diomed 's a false-hearted
rogue, a most unjust knave; I will no more
trust him when he leers than I will a serpent
when he hisses : he will spend his mouth and
promise, like Brabbler the hound ; but when he
performs astronomers foretell it ; it is prodigious,
there will come some change ; the sun borrows
of the moon when Diomed keeps his word. I
will rather leave to see Hector than not to dog
him : they say he keeps a Trojan drab, and uses
the traitor Calchas' tent : I '11 after. Nothing
but lechery ! all incontinent varlets ! {Exit.
SCENE II. THE GRECIAN CAMP. Before
CALCHAS' Tent.
Enter DIOMEDES.
Dio. What, are you up here, ho? speak.
Cal. [Within.} Who calls?
Dio. Diomed. Calchas, I think. Where's
your daughter?
Cal. {Within.'} She comes to you.
Enter TROILUS and ULYSSES, at a distance;
after them THERSITES.
Ulyss. Stand where the torch may not
discover us.
Enter CRESSIDA.
Tro. Cressid comes forth to him.
Dio. How now, my charge !
Ores. Now, my sweet guardian! Hark, a
word with you. [Whispers.
Tro. Yea, so familiar !
Ulyss. She will sing any man at first sight.
Ther. And any man may sing her, if he can
take her cliff; she's noted.
Dio. Will you remember?
Cres. Remember? yes.
Dio. Nay, but do, then ;
And let your mind be coupled with your words.
Tro. What should she remember?
Ulyss. List! [to folly.
Cres. Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no more
Ther. Roguery !
Dio. Nay, then,
Cres. I '11 tell you what,
Dio. Pho, pho ! come, tell a pin : you are
forsworn. [have me do?
Cres. In faith, I cannot: what would you
Ther. A juggling trick, to be secretly open.
Dio. What did you swear you would bestow
on me?
Cres. I pr'ythee, do not hold me to mine oath
Bid me do anything but that, sweet Greek.
Dio. Good-night.
Tro. Hold, patience !
Ulyss. How now, Trojan !
Cres. Diomed,
Dio. No, no, good-night : I '11 be your fool
no more.
Tro. Thy better must.
Cres. Hark ! one word in your ear.
Tro. O plague and madness ! [I pray you,
Ulyss. You are mov'd, prince ; let us depart,
Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself
To wrathful terms: this place is dangerous;
The time right deadly ; I beseech you, go.
Tro. Behold, I pray you !
Ulyss. Nay, good my lord, go off:
You flow to great destruction ; come, my lord.
Tro. I pray thee, stay.
Ulyss. You have not patience ; come.
Tro. I pray you, stay; by hell and all hell's
torments,
I will not speak a word.
Dio. And so, good-night.
Cres. Nay, but you part in anger.
Tro. Doth that grieve thee?
wither'd truth !
Ulyss. Why, how now, lord?
Tro. By Jove,
1 will be patient.
Cres. Guardian ! why, Greek !
Dio. Pho, pho ! adieu ; you palter.
Cres. In faith, I do not: come hither once
again. [will you go?
Ulyss. You shake, my lord, at something:
You will break out.
Tro. She strokes his cheek !
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
[ACT v.
Ulyss. Come, come.
Tro. Nay, stay; by Jove, I will not speak a
word:
There is between my will and all offences
A guard of patience : stay a little while.
Ther. How the devil luxury, with his fat
rump and potato finger, tickles these together !
Fry, lechery, fry !
Dio. But will you, then?
Cres. In faith, I will, la ; never trust me else.
Dio. Give me some token for the surety of it.
Cres. I '11 fetch you one. [Exit.
Ulyss. You have sworn patience.
Tro. Fear me not, sweet lord ;
I will not be myself, nor have cognition
Of what I feel : I am all patience.
Re-enter CRESSIDA.
Ther. Now the pledge ; now, now, now !
Cres. Here, Diomed, keep this sleeve.
Tro. O, beauty ! where 's thy faith ?
Ulyss. My lord,
Tro. I will be patient ; outwardly I will.
Cres. You look upon that sleeve ; behold it
well.
He lov'd me O false wench! Give't me again.
Dio. Whose was 't ?
Cres. It is no matter, now I have 't again.
I will not meet with you to-morrow night :
I pr'ythee, Diomed, visit me no more, [stone.
Ther. Now she sharpens : Well said, Whet-
Dio. I shall have it.
Cres. What, this?
Dio. Ay, that.
Cres. O, all you gods? O pretty, pretty
pledge !
Thy master now lies thinking in his bed
Of thee and me ; and sighs, and takes my glove,
And gives memorial dainty kisses to it,
As I kiss thee. Nay, do not snatch it from me ;
He that takes that doth take my heart withal.
Dio. I had your heart before, this follows it.
Tro. I did swear patience.
Cres. You shall not have it, Diomed; faith,
you shall not ;
I '11 give you something else.
Dio. I will have this: whose was it?
Cres. It is no matter.
Dio. Come, tell me whose it was.
Cres. 'Twas one's that loved me better than
you will.
But, now you have it, take it.
Dio. Whose was it?
Cres. By all Diana's waiting women yond,
And by herself, I will not tell you whose.
Dio. To-morrow will I wear it on my helm ;
And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge it.
Tro. Wert thou the devil, and wor'st it on
thy horn,
It should be challeng'd.
Cres. Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis past; and
yet it is not ;
I will not keep my word.
Dio. Why, then, farewell ;
Thou never shalt mock Diomed again, [word
Cres. You shall not go : one cannot speak a
But it straight starts you.
Dio. I do not like this fooling.
Ther. Nor I, by Pluto: but that that likes
not you pleases me best.
Dio. What, shall I come? the hour?
Cres. Ay, come : O Jove !
Do come : I shall be plagu'd.
Dio. Farewell till then.
Cres. Good-night: I pr'ythee, come.
[Exit DIOMEDES.
Troilus, farewell ! one eye yet looks on thee ;
But with my heart the other eye doth see.
Ah, poor our sex ! this fault in us I find,
The error of our eye directs our mind :
What error leads must err ; O, then conclude,
Minds sway'd by eyes are full of turpitude.
[Exit.
Ther. A proof of strength she could not
publish more,
Unless she said, My mind is now turn'd whore.
Ulyss. All 's done, my lord.
Tro. It is.
Ulyss. Why stay we, then?
Tro. To make a recordation to my soul
Of every syllable that here was spoke.
But if I tell how these two did co-act,
Shall I not lie in publishing a truth?
Sith yet there is a credence in my heart,
An esperance so obstinately strong,
That doth invert the attest of eyes and ears ;
As if those organs had deceptious functions
Created only to calumniate.
Was Cressid here?
Ulyss. I cannot conjure, Trojan.
Tro. She was not, sure.
Ulyss. Most sure she was.
Tro. Why, my negation hath no taste of
madness. [but now.
Ulyss. Nor mine, my lord : Cressid was here
Tro. Let it not be believ'd for womanhood !
Think, we had mothers ; do not give advantage
To stubborn critics, apt, without a theme,
For depravation, to square the general sex
By Cressid's rule : rather think this not Cressid.
Ulyss. What hath she done, prince, that can
soil our mothers?
Tro. Nothing at all, unless that this were
she.
SCENE II.]
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
785
Ther. Will he swagger himself out on 's own
eyes?
Tro. This she ? no; this is Diomed's Cressida :
If beauty have a soul, this is not she;
If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctimonies,
If sanctimony be the gods' delight,
If there be rule in unity itself,
This is not she. O madness of discourse,
That cause sets up with and against itself !
Bi-fold authority ! where reason can revolt
Without perdition, and loss assume all reason
Without revolt: this is, and is not, Cressid!
Within my soul there doth conduce a fight
Of this strange nature, tnat a thing inseparate
Divides more wider than the sky and earth ;
And yet the spacious breadth of this division
Admits no orifex for a point, as subtle
As Ariachne's broken woof, to enter.
Instance, O instance ! strong as Pluto's gates ;
Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven :
Instance, O instance ! strong as heaven itself;
The bonds of heaven are slipp'd, dissolv'd, and
loos' d ;
And with another note, five-finger-tied,
The fractions of her faith, orts of her love,
The fragments, scraps, the bits, and greasy relics
Of her o'er-eaten faith, are bound to Diomed.
Ulyss. May worthy Troilus be but half-attach'd
With that which here his passion doth express ?
Tro. Ay, Greek ; and that shall be divulged
well
In characters as red as Mars his heart [fancy
Inflam'd with Venus: never did young man
With so eternal and so fix'd a soul.
Hark, Greek : as much as I do Cressid love,
So much by weight hate I her Diomed :
That sleeve is mine that he '11 bear on his helm ;
Were it a casque compos'd by Vulcan's skill
My sword should bite it : not the dreadful spout
Which shipmen do the hurricano call,
Constring'd in mass by the almighty sun,
Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear
In his descent, than shall my prompted sword
Falling on Diomed.
Ther. He '11 tickle it for his concupy.
Tro. O Cressid ! O false Cressid ! false, false,
false !
Let all untruths stand by thy stained name,
And they '11 seem glorious.
Ulyss. O, contain yourself ;
Your passion draws ears hither.
Enter /ENEAS.
ALne. I have been seeking you this hour,
my lord :
Hector, by this, is arming him in Troy ;
Ajax, your guard, stays to conduct you home.
Tro. Have with you, prince. My courteous
lord, adieu.
Farewell, revolted fair ! and, Diomed,
Stand fast, and wear a castle on thy head !
Ulyss. I '11 bring you to the gates.
Tro. Accept distracted thanks.
{Exeunt TRO., ^NE., and ULYSS.
Ther. Would I could meet that rogue
Diomed ! I would croak like a raven ; I would
bode, I would bode. Patroclus will give me
anything for the intelligence of this whore:
the parrot will not do more for an almond than
he for a commodious drab. Lechery, lechery ;
still wars and lechery; nothing else holds
fashion : a burning devil take them !
SCENE III. TROY. Before PRIAM'S Palace.
Enter HECTOR and ANDROMACHE.
And. When was my lord so much ungently
temper'd
To stop his ears against admonishment ?
Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to-day.
Hect. You train me to offend you ; get you in :
By all the everlasting gods, I '11 go !
And. My dreams will, sure, prove ominous
to the day.
Hect. No more, I say.
Enter CASSANDRA.
Cas. Where is my brother Hector ?
And, Here, sister; arm'd, and bloody in intent.
Consort with me in loud and dear petition,
Pursue we him on knees ; for I have dream'd
Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night
Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of
slaughter.
Cas. O, 'tis true.
Hect. Ho ! bid my trumpet sound !
Cas. No notes of sally, for the heavens,
sweet brother. [me swear.
Hect. Begone, I say: the gods have heard
Cas. The gods are deaf to hot and peevish
vows:
They are polluted offerings, more abhorr'd
Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.
And. O, be persuaded ! do not count it holy
To hurt by being just : it is as lawful,
For we would give much, to use violent thefts,
And rob in the behalf of charity. [vow ;
Cas. It is the purpose that makes strong the
But vows to every purpose must not hold :
Unarm, sweet Hector.
Hect. Hold you still, I say ;
Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate :
Life every man holds dear ; but the dear man
Holds honour far more precious dear than life.
7 86
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
[ACT v.
Enter TROILUS.
How now, young man ! mean'st thou to fight
to-day ?
And. Cassandra, call my father to persuade.
[Exit CASSANDRA.
Hect. No, faith, young Troilus; doff thy
harness, youth ;
I am to-day i' the vein of chivalry :
Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong,
And tempt not yet the brushes of the war.
Unarm thee, go ; and doubt thou not, brave boy,
I '11 stand to-day for thee, and me, and Troy.
Tro. Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you,
Which better fits a lion than a man.
Hect, What vice is that, good Troilus? chide
me for it. [fall,
Tro. When many times the captive Grecians
Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword,
You bid them rise and live.
Hect, O, 'tis fair play.
Tro. Fool's play, by Heaven, Hector.
Hect. How now ! how now !
Tro. For the love of all the gods,
Let 3 s leave the hermit pity with our mothers ;
And when we have our armours buckled on,
The venom'd vengeance ride upon our swords ;
Spur them to ruthful work, rein them from ruth.
Hect. Fie, savage, fie!.
Tro. Hector, then 'tis wars.
Hect. Troilus, I would not have you fight
to-day,
Tro Who should withhold me ?
Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars
Beckoning with fiery truncheon my retire ;
Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees,
Their eyes o'ergalled with recourse of tears ;
Nor you, my brother, with your true sword
drawn,
Oppos'd to hinder me, should stop my way,
But by my ruin.
Re-enter CASSANDRA, with PRIAM.
Cas. Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him
fast:
He is thy crutch ; now if thou lose thy stay,
Thou on him leaning and all Troy on thee,
Fall all together.
Pri. Come, Hector, come, go back :
Thy wife hath dream'd ; thy mother hath had
visions ;
Cassandra doth foresee ; and I myself
Am like a prophet suddenly enrapt,
To tell thee that this day is ominous :
Therefore, come back.
Hect. ^Eneas is a-field ;
And I do stand engag'd to many Greeks,
Even in the faith of valour, to appear
This morning to them.
Pri. Ay, but thou shalt not go.
Hect. I must not break my faith.
You know me dutiful ; therefore, dear sir,
Let me not shame respect ; but give me leave
To take that course by your consent and voice
Which you do here forbid me, royal Priam.
Cas. O Priam, yield not to him !
And. Do not, dear father.
Hect. Andromache, I am offended with you :
Upon the love you bear me, get you in.
[Exit ANDROMACHE.
Tro. This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl
Makes all these bodements.
Cas. O, farewell, dear Hector !
Look, how thou diest ! look, how thy eye turns
pale!
Look, how thy wounds do bleed at many vents !
Hark, how Troy roars! how Hecuba cries out!
How poor Andromache shrills her dolours forth!
Behold, destruction, frenzy, and amazement,
Like witless antics, one another meet,
And all cry, Hector ! Hector 3 s dead ! O
Hector !
Tro. Away ! away ! [my leave :
Cas. Farewell: yet, soft! Hector I take
Thou dost thyself and all our Troy deceive.
[Exit.
Hect. You are amaz'd, my liege, at her
exclaim : [fight ;
Go in, and cheer the town: v/e'll forth, and
Do deeds worth praise, and tell you them at
night. [about thee !
Pri. Farewells the gods with safety stand
[Exeunt severally PRIAM and HECTOR.
Alarums.
Tro. They are at it, hark ! Proud Diomed,
believe,
I come to lose my arm, or win my sleeve.
As TROILUS is going out, enter from the other
side PANDARUS.
Pan. Do you hear, my lord? do you hear?
Tro. What now? [girl.
Pan. Here 's a letter come from yond poor
Tro. Let me read,
Pan. A whoreson phtisick, a whoreson
rascally phtisick so troubles me, and the foolish
fortune of this girl ; and what one thing, what
another, that I shall leave you one o' these
days: and I have a rheum in mine eyes too;
and such an ache in my bones, that unless a
man were cursed I cannot tell what to think
on't. What says she there?
Tro. Words, words, mere words, no matter
from the heart;
SCENE IV.]
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
787
The effect doth operate another way.
[ Tearing the letter.
Go, wind, to wind, there turn and change to-
gether.
My love with words and errors still she feeds ;
But edifies another with her deeds.
{Exeunt severally.
SCENE IV. Plains between Troy and the
Grecian Camp.
Alarums : excursions. Enter THERSITES.
Ther. Now they are clapper-clawing one
another; I'll go look on. That dissembling
abominable varlet, Diomed, has got that same
scurvy doting foolish young knave's sleeve of
Troy there .in his helm : I would fain see them
meet; that that same young Trojan ass, that
loves the whore there, might send that Greekish
whoremasterly villain, with the sleeve, back to
the dissembling luxurious drab, of a sleeve-less
errand. O' the t'other side, the policy of those
crafty swearing rascals, that stale old mouse-
eaten dry cheese, Nestor, and that same dog-fox,
Ulysses, is not proved worth a blackberry:
they set me up, in policy, that mongrel cur,
Ajax, against that dog of as bad a kind,
Achilles: and now is the cur Ajax prouder
than the cur Achilles, and will not arm to-day ;
whereupon the Grecians begin to proclaim
barbarism, and policy grows into an ill opinion.
Soft ! here come sleeve, and t'other.
Enter DIOMEDES, TROILUS following.
Tro. Fly not; for shouldst thou take the
river Styx
I would swim after.
Dio. Thou dost miscall retire:
I do not fly ; but advantageous care
Withdrew me from the odds of multitude:
Have at thee !
Ther. Hold thy whore, Grecian ! now for thy
whore, Trojan ! now the sleeve, now the sleeve !
[Exeunt TRO. and DiQ. t fighting.
Enter HECTOR.
Hect. What art thou, Greek! art thou for
Hector's match?
Art thou of blood and honour?
Ther. No, no, I am a rascal; a scurvy
railing knave ; a very filthy rogue.
Hect. I do believe thee ; live. [Exit.
Ther. God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe
me ; but a plague break thy neck for frighting
me! What 's become of the wenching rogues?
I think they have swallowed one another: I
would laugh at that miracle. Yet, in a sort,
lechery eats itself. I '11 seek them. [Exit.
SCENE V. Another part of the Plains.
Enter DIOMEDES and a Servant.
Dio. Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus 1
horse ;
Present the fair steed to my lady Cressid:
Fellow, commend my service to her beauty ;
Tell her I have chastis'd the amorous Trojan,
And am her knight by proof.
Set v. I go, my lord.
[Exit.
Enter AGAMEMNON.
Agam. Renew, renew! The fierce Polydamus
Hath beat down Menon : bastard Margarelon
Hath Doreus prisoner,
And stands colossus-wise, waving his beam,
Upon the pashed corses of the kings
Epistrophus and Cedius : Polixenes is slain ;
Amphimacus and Thoas deadly hurt ;
Patroclus ta'en, or slain ; and Palamedes
Sore hurt and bruis'd : the dreadful Sagittary
Appals our numbers : haste we, Diomed,
To reinforcement, or we perish all.
Enter NESTOR,
Nest. Go, bear Patroclus' body to Achilles ;
And bid the snail-pac'd Ajax arm for shame.
There is a thousand Hectors in the field :
Now here he fights on Galathe his horse,
And there lacks work ; anon he 's there afoot,
And there they fly or die, like scaled skulls
Before the belching whale ; then is he yonder,
And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge,
Fall down before him like the mower's swath :
Here, there, and everywhere he leavesand takes;
Dexterity so obeying appetite
That what he will he does ; and does so much
That proof is call'd impossibility.
Enter ULYSSES.
Ulyss. O, courage, courage, princes! great
Achilles
Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance:
Patroclus' wounds have rous'd his drowsy blood,
Together with his mangl'd Myrmidons,
That noiseless, handless, hack'd and chipp'd,
come to him,
Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend,
And foams at mouth, and he is arm'd and at it,
Roaring for Troilus ; who hath done to-day
Mad and fantastic execution;
Engaging and redeeming of himself
With such a careless force and forceless care
788
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
[ACT v.
As if that luck, in very spite of cunning,
Bade him win all.
Enter AjAX.
Ajax. Troilus ! thou coward Troilus ! [Exit.
Dio. Ay, there, there.
Nest. So, so, we draw together.
Enter ACHILLES.
Achil. Where is this Hector?
Come, come, thou boy-queller, show thy face ;
Know what it is to meet Achilles angry :
Hector! where J s Hector? I will none but
Hector. [Exeunt.
SCENE VI. Another Part of the Plains.
Enter AJAX.
Ajax. Troilus, thou coward Troilus, show
thy head !
Enter DlOMEDES.
Dio. Troilus, I say ! where 's Troilus ?
Ajax. What wouldst thou ?
Dio. I would correct him.
Ajax. Were I the general, thou shouldst
have my office [Troilus !
Ere that correction. Troilus, I say! what,
Enter TROILUS.
Tro. O traitor Diomed ! turn thy false face,
thou traitor,
And pay thy life thou owest me for my horse !
Dio. Ha ! art thou there ?
Ajax. I'llfightwith him alone: stand, Diomed.
Dio. He is my prize. I will not look upon.
Tro. Come, both, you cogging Greeks ; have
at you both. [Exeunt fighting.
Enter HECTOR.
Hect. Yea, Troilus? O, well fought, my
youngest brother !
Enter ACHILLES.
Achil. Now do I see thee, ha ! have at thee,
Hector !
Hect. Pause, if thou wilt. [Trojan :
Achil. I do disdain thy courtesy, proud
Be happy that my arms are out of use :
My rest and negligence befriend thee now,
But thou anon shalt hear of me again;
Till when, go seek thy fortune. [Exit.
Hect. Fare thee well :
I would have been much more a fresher man
Had I expected thee. How now, my brother !
Re-enter TROILUS.
Tro. Ajax hath ta'en ^Eneas : shall it be ?
No, by the flame of yonder glorious heaven,
He shall not carry him ; I '11 be ta'en too,
Or bring him off. fate, hear me what I say!
I reck not though I end my life to-day. [Exit.
Enter one in sumptuous armoiir.
Hect. Stand, stand, thou Greek; thou art a
goodly mark :
No? wilt thou not ? I like thy armour well ;
I '11 frush it, and unlock the rivets all. [abide?
But I 11 be master of it .Wilt thou not, beast,
Why then, fly on, I '11 hunt thee for thy hide.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VII. Another Part of the Plains.
Enter ACHILLES, ivtth Myrmidons.
Achil. Come here about me, you my Myr-
midons ;
Mark what I say. Attend me where I wheel:
Strike not a stroke, but keep yourselves in breath:
And when I have the bloody Hector found,
Empale him with your weapons round about ;
In fellest manner execute your aims.
Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye:
It is decreed Hector the great must die.
[Exeunt.
Enter MENELAUS and PARIS, fighting; then
TKERSITES.
Ther. The cuckold and the cuckold-maker
are at it. Now, bull ! now, dog ! 'Loo, Paris,
'loo ! now my double-henned sparrow ! 'loo,
Paris, 'loo ! The bull has the game : 'ware
horns, ho ! [Exeunt PARIS and MENELAUS.
Enter MARGARELON.
Mar. Turn, slave, and fight.
Ther. What art thou ?
Mar. A bastard son of Priam's.
Ther I am a bastard too ; I love bastards :
I am a bastard begot, bastard instructed, bastard
in mind, bastard in valour, in everything illegiti-
mate. One bear will not bite another, and
wherefore should one bastard ? Take heed, the
quarrel's most ominous to us: if the son of a
whore fight for a whore he tempts judgment :
farewell, bastard. [Exit.
Mar. The devil take thee, coward ! [Exit.
SCENE VIII. Another Part of the Plains.
Enter HECTOR.
Hect. Most putrified core, so fair without,
Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy lite.
Now is my day's work done: I'll take good
breath:
SCENE IX.]
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
789
Rest, sword ; thou hast thy fill of blood and
death !
[P^lts off his helmet and hangs his
shield behind him.
Enter ACHILLES and Myrmidons,
Achil. Look, Hector, how the sun begins to
set;
How ugly night comes breathing at his heels ;
Even with the vail and dark'ning of the sun,
To close the day up, Hector's life is done.
Hect. I am unarm'd ; forego this vantage,
Greek. [I seek.
Achil. Strike, fellows, strike ; this is the man
[HECTOR falls.
So, Ilion, fall thou next! now, Troy, sink down!
Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone.
On, Myrmidons; and cry you all amain,
Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.
[A retreat sounded.
Hark ! a retire upon our Grecian part, [my lord.
Myr. The Trojan trumpets sound the like,
Achil. The dragon wing of night o'erspreads
the earth,
And, stickler-like, the armies separate.
My half-supp'd sword, that frankly would have
fed, [bed
Pleas'd with this dainty bait, thus goes to
[Sheathes his sword.
Come, tie his body to my horse's tail ;
Along the field I will the Trojan trail. [Exeunt.
SCENE IK. Another Part of the Plains.
Enter AGAMEMNON, AJAX, MENELAUS,
NESTOR, DIOMEDES, atid others, man king.
Shouts within.
Again. Hark ! hark ! what shout is that ?
Nest. Peace, drums ! [Achilles !
[Within.] Achilles! Achilles! Hector 's slain,
Dio. The bruit is, Hector's slain, and by
Achilles.
Ajax. If it be so, yet bragless let it be ;
Great Hector was a man as good as he. [sent
Agam. March patiently along. Let one be
To pray Achilles see us at our tent.
If in his death the gods have us befriended ;
Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are
ended. [Exeunt, marching.
SCENE ^.Another Part of the Plains.
Enter AENEAS and Trojans.
sEne. Stand, ho ! yet are we masters of the
field:
Never go home ; here starve we out the night.
Enter TROILUS.
Tro. Hector is slain.
All. Hector ! the gods forbid !
Tro. He 's dead ; and at the murderer's
horse's tail, [field.
In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shameful
Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage with
speed! [Troy!
Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile at
I say, at once let your brief plagues be mercy.
And linger not our sure destructions on !
JEne. My lord, you do discomfort all the host.
Tro. You understand me not that tell me
so :
I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death ;
But dare all imminence that gods and men
Address their dangers in. Hector is gone :
Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba ?
Let him that will a screech-owl aye be call'd
Go in to Troy, and say there, Hector 's dead :
There is a word will Priam turn to stone ;
Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives,
Cold statues of the youth ; and, in a word,
Scare Troy out of itself. But, march away:
Hector is dead ; there is no more to say.
Stay yet. You vile abominable tents,
Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains,
Let Titan rise" as early as he dare,
I'll through and through you! And, thou
great-siz'd coward,
No space of earth shall sunder our two hates:
I '11 haunt thee like a wicked conscience still,
That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy's
thoughts.
Strike a free march to Troy ! with comfort go :
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.
[Exeunt yENEAS and Trojans.
As TROILUS is going out, enter, from the other
side, PANDARUS.
Pan. But hear you, hear you !
Tro. Hence, broker lackey! ignomy and
shame pursue thy life, and live aye with thy
name ! [Exit.
Pan. A goodly medicine for my aching
bones! O world! world! world! thus is the
poor agent despised! O traitors and bawds,
how earnestly are you set at work, and how ill
requited! Why should our endeavour be so
loved, and the performance so loathed ? what
verse for it? what instance for it? Let me
see:
Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing
Till he hath lost his honey and his sting ;
And being once subdued in armed tail,
Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail
790
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
[ACT v.
Good traders in the flesh, set this in your
painted cloths.
As many as be here of pander's hall,
Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar's fall ;
Or, if you cannot weep, yet give some groans,
Though not for me, yet for your aching bones
Brethren and sisters of the old-door trade,
Some two months hence my will shall here be
made:
It should be now, but that my fear is this,
Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss :
Till then I '11 sweat, and seek about for eases ;
And, at that time, bequeath you my diseases.
n *
TIMON OF ATHENS.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
TIMON, a noble Athenian.
The Servant of ISIDORE.
Lucius, )
Two of TIMON'S Creditors.
LUCULLUS, > Lords and Flatterers of TIMON.
Cupid and Maskers.
SEMPRONIUS, )
Three Strangers.
VENTIDIUS, one of TIMON'S false Friends.
Poet.
ALCIBIADES, an Athenian General.
Painter.
APEMANTUS, a churlish Philosopher.
Jeweller.
FLAVIUS, Steward to TIMON.
Merchant.
FLAMINIUS, )
An Old Athenian.
LUCILIUS, > TIMON'S Servants.
SERVILIUS, )
A Page.
CAPHIS, "}
A FooL
PHILOTUS,
PHRYNIA ^
TITUS, \Servants to TIMON'S Creditors.
TIMANDRA \Mistresses to ALCIBIADES.
Lucius,
'
HORTENSIUS, J
Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers,
Two Servants 0/VARRO.
Thieves, and Attendants.
SCENE, ATHENS, and the Woods adjoining.
ACT I.
SCENE I. ATHENS. A Hall in TIMON'S
House.
Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and
others, at several doors,
Poet. Good-day, sir.
Pain. I am glad you are well.
Poet. I have not seen you long: how goes
the world ?
Pain. It wears, sir, as it grows.
Poet. Ay, that 's well known :
But what particular rarity ? what strange,
Which manifold record not matches ? See,
Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power
Hath conjur'd to attend I know the merchant.
Pain. I know them both; the other 's a jeweller.
Mer. O, 'tis a worthy lord !
few. Nay, that 's most fix'd.
Mer. A most incomparable man; breath'd,
as it were,
To an untirable and continuate goodness :
He passes.
Jew. I have a jewel here.
Mer. O, pray, let's see't: for the Lord
Timon, sir? [that
Jew. If he will touch the estimate : but, for
Poet. [Reciting to himself.] When we for
recompense have prais'd the vile,
It stains the glory in that happy verse
Which aptly sings the good.
Mer. 'Tis a good form.
[Looking at the jewel.
Jew. And rich : here is a water, look ye.
Pain. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some
dedication
To the great lord.
Poet. A thing slipp'd idly from me.
Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes
From whence 'tis nourish'd : the fire i' the flint
Shows not till it be struck ; our gentle flame
Provokes itself, and, like the current, flies
Each bound it chafes. What have you there ?
Pain. A picture, sir. And when comes your
book forth ? [sir,
Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment,
Let 's see your piece.
Pain. 'Tis a good piece.
Pott So 'tis: this comes off well and excellent.
Pain. Indifferent
Poet. Admirable t how this grace
Speaks his own standing ! what a mental power
This eye shoots forth ! how big imagination
Moves in this lip ! to the dumbness of the gesture
One might interpret.
792
TIMON OF ATHENS.
[ACT i.
Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life.
Here is a touch ; is 't good ?
Poet. I will say of it
It tutors nature : artificial strife
Lives in these touches, livelier than life.
Enter certain Senators, and pass over.
Pain. How this lord is follow'd !
Poet. The senators of Athens: happy man !
Pain. Look, more !
Poet. You see this confluence, this great flood
of visitors.
I have, in this rough work, shap'd out a man,
Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug
With amplest entertainment . my free drift
Halts not particularly, but moves itself
In a wide sea of wax : no levell'd malice
Infects one comma in the course I hold ;
But flies an eagle flight, bold, and forth on,
Leaving no track behind.
Pain. How shall I understand you ?
Poet. I will unbolt to you.
You see how all conditions, how all minds,
As well of glib and slippery creatures as
Of grave and austere quality, tender down
Their services to Lord Timon r his large fortune,
Upon his good and gracious nature hanging,
Subdues and properties to his love and tendance
All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-fac'd
flatterer
To Apemantus, that few things loves better
Than to abhor himself: even he drops down
The knee before him, and returns in peace
Most rich in Timon's nod.
Pain. I saw them speak together
Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill
Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd : the base o' the
mount
Is rank'd with all deserts, all kinds of natures,
That labour on the bosom of this sphere
To propagate their states: amongst them all,
Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd,
One do I personate of Lord Timon's frame,
Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to
her ; [servants
Whose present grace to present slaves and
Translates his rivals.
Pain. 'Tis conceiv'd to scope.
This throne, this Fortune, andthishill, methinks,
With one man beckon'd from the rest below,
Bowing his head against the steepy mount
To climb his happiness, would be well express'd
In our condition.
Poet. Nay, sir, but hear me on.
All those which were his fellows but of late,
Some better than his value, on the moment
Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance,
Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,
Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him
Drink the free air.
Pain. Ay, marry, what of these ?
Poet. When Fortune, in her shift and change
of mood,
Spurnsdownher late belov'd, all his dependents,
Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top,
Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down,
Not one accompanying his declining foot.
Pain. 'Tis common :
A thousand moraJ paintings I can show
That shall demonstrate these quick blows of
Fortune's
More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well
To show Lord Timon that mean eyes have seen
The foot above the head.
Trumpets sound. Enter TlMON, attended ;
the Servant of VWIIDIVS talking with him.
Tun. Imprison'd is he, say you ?
Ven. Serv. Ay, my good lord: five talents
is his debt;
His means most short, his creditors most strait :
Your honourable letter he desires
To those have shut him up ; which failing him,
Periods his comfort.
Tim. Noble Ventidius ! Well;
I am not of that feather to shake oft [him
My friend when he most needs me, I do know
A gentleman that well deserves a help, [him.
Which he shall have ; I '11 pay the debt, and free
Ven. Serv. Your lordship ever binds him.
Tim. Commend me to him : I will send his
ransom \
And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come tome :
'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,
But to support him after. Fare you well.
Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honour !
[Exit.
Enter an Old Athenian.
Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak.
Tim. Freely, good father.
Old Ath. Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius.
Tim. I have so : what of him ?
Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man
before thee.
Tim. Attends he here, or no ? Lucilius !
LUCILIUS comes forward Jrom among the
Attendants.
Luc. Here, at your lordship's service.
Old Ath. This fellow here, Lord Timon,
this thy creature,
By night frequents my house. I am a man
That from my first have been inclin'd to thrift ;
SCENE I.]
TIMON OF ATHENS.
793
And my estate deserves an heir more rais'd
Than one which holds a trencher.
Tim. Well ; what further ?
Old Ath. One only daughter have I, no kin
else,
On whom I may confer what I have got :
The maid is fair, o' the youngest for a bride,
And I have bred her at my dearest cost
In qualities of the best. This man of thine
Attempts her love : I pr'ythee, noble lord,
join with me to forbid him her resort ;
Myself have spoke in vain.
Tim. The man is honest.
Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon :
His honesty rewards him in itself;
It must not bear my daughter.
Tim. Does she love him ?
Old Ath. She is young and apt :
Our own precedent passions do instruct us
What levity 's in youth.
Tim. [To LUCILIUS.] Love you the maid?
Luc. Ay, my good lord ; and she accepts of
it. [missing,
Old Ath. If in her marriage my consent be
I call the gods to witness, I will choose
Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world,
And dispossess her all.
Tim. How shall she be endow'd,
If she be mated with an equal husband ?
Old Ath. Three talents on the present; in
future all. [long :
Tim. This gentleman of mine hath serv'd me
To build his fortune I will strain a little,
For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter :
What you bestow, in him I '11 counterpoise,
And make him weigh with her.
Old Ath. Most noble lord,
Pawn me to this your honour, she is his.
Tim. My hand to thee ; mine honour on my
promise. [may
Luc. Humbly I thank your lordship : never
That state or fortune fall into my keeping
Which is not ow'd to you !
[Exeunt LUCILIUS and Old Athenian.
Poet. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live
your lordship ! [anon :
Tim. I thank you ; you shall hear from me
Go not away. What have you there, my friend ?
Pain. A piece of painting, which I do beseech
Your lordship to accept.
Tim. Painting is welcome.
The painting is almost the natural man ;
For since dishonour traffics with man's nature,
He is but outside : these pencill'd figures are
Even such as they give out. I like your work ;
And you shall find I like it : wait attendance
.Till you hear further from me.
Pain. The gods preserve you !
Tim. Well fare you, gentleman: give me
your hand :
We must needs dine together. Sir, your jewel
Hath suffer'd under praise.
Jew. What, my lord! dispraise?
Tim. A mere satiety of commendations,
If I should pay you for 't as 'tis extoll'd
It would unclew m : quite.
Jew. My lord, 'tis rated
As those which sell would give. But you well
know,
Things of light value, differing in the owners,
Are prized by their masters: believe 't, dear lord,
You mend the jewel by the wearing it.
Tim. Well mock'd. [common tongue,
Mer. No, my good lord ; he speaks the
Which all men speak with him. [chid ?
Tim. Look, who comes here: will you be
Enter APEMANTUS.
Jew. We'll bear, with your lordship.
Mer. He '11 spare none.
Tim. Good-morrow to thee, gentle Ape-
mantus ! [good-morrow ;
Apem. Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy
When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves
honest. [know'st them not.
Tim. Why dost thou call them knaves? thou
Apem. Are they not Athenians ?
Tim. Yes.
Apem. Then I repent not.
Jew. You know me, Apemantus?
Apem. Thou knowest I do ; I call'd thee by
thy name.
Tim. Thou art proud, Apemantus.
Apem. Of nothing so much as that I am not
like Timon.
Tim. Whither art going ? [brains.
Apem. To knock out an honest Athenian's
Tim. That 's a deed thou 'It die for. [law.
Apem. Right, if doing nothing be death by the
Tim. How likest thou this picture, Ape-
mantus ?
Apem. The best, for the innocence.
Tim. Wrought he not well that painted it?
Apem. He wrought better that made the
painter ; and yet he 's but a filthy piece of work.
Pain. You are a dog.
Apem. Thy mother's of my generation:
what 's she, if I be a dog ?
Tim. Wilt dine with me, Apemantus ?
Apem. No ; I eat not lords.
Tim. An thou shouldst, thou 'dst anger ladies.
Apem. O, they eat lords ; so they come by
great bellies.
Tim. That 's a lascivious apprehension.
794
TIMON OF ATHENS.
[ACT i.
Apem. So thou apprehendest it : take it for
thy labour.
Tim. How dost thou like this jewel, Ape-
man tus ?
Apem. Not so well as plain-dealing, which
will not cost a man a doit.
Tim. What dost thou think 'tis worth?
Apem. Not worth my thinking, How now,
poet!
Poet. How now, philosopher !
Apem. Thou liest.
Poet. Art not one ?
Apem. Yes.
Poet. Then I lie not.
Apem. Art not a poet ?
Poet. Yes.
Apem. Then thou liest : look in thy last work,
where thou hast feign'd him a worthy fellow.
Poet. That 's not feign'd, he is so.
Apem. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay
thee for thy labour : he that loves to be flattered
is worthy o' the flatterer. Heavens, that I were
a lord !
Tim. What wouldst do then, Apemantus ?
Apem. Even as Apemantus does now, hate
a lord with my heart.
Tim. What, thyself?
Apem. Ay.
Tim. Wherefore?
Apem. That I had no angry wit to be a
lord. Art not thou a merchant ?
Mer. Ay, Apemantus.
Apem. Traffic confound thee, if the gods
will not !
Mer. If traffic do it, the gods do it.
Apem. Traffic 's thy god, and thy god con-
found thee !
Trumpet sounds. Enter a Servant.
Tim. What trumpet 's that ?
Serv. 'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse,
All of companionship.
Tim. Pray, entertain them ; give them guide
to us. [Exeunt some Attendants.
You must needs dine with me: go not you
hence
Till I have thank'd you : when dinner 's done
Show me this piece. I am joyful of your sights.
Enter ALCIBIADES, with his company.
Most welcome, sir ! [ They salute.
Apem. So, so, there !
Aches contract and starve your supple joints!
That there should be small love 'mongst these
sweet knaves, [bred out
And all this court'sy! The strain of man's
Into baboon and monkey.
Alcib. Sir, you have sav'd my longing, and
I feed
Most hungerly on your sight.
Tim. Right welcome, sir !
Ere we depart we '11 share a bounteous time
In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in.
[Exeunt all but APEMANTUS.
Enter Two Lords.
I Lord. What time o' day is't, Apemantus?
Apem. Time to be honest.
1 Lord. That time serves still, [omitt'st it.
Apem. The more accursed thou, that still
2 Lord. Thou art going to Lord Timon's feast.
Apem. Ay; to see meat fill knaves, and
wine heat fools.
2 Lord. Fare thee well, fare thee well.
Apem. Thou art a fool to bid me fare well twice.
2 Lord. Why, Apemantus?
Apem. Shouldst have kept one to thyself,
for I mean to give thee none.
1 Lord. Hang thyself.
Apem. No, I will do nothing at thy bidding :
make thy requests to thy friend.
2 Lord. Away, unpeaceable dog, or I '11
spurn thee hence.
Apem. I will fly, like a dog, the heels o' the
ass. [Exit.
1 Lord. He 's opposite to humanity. Come,
shall we in
And taste Lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes
The very heart of kindness. [gold,
2 Lord. He pours it out ; Plutus, the god of
Is but his steward : no meed but he repays
Sevenfold above itself ; no gift to him
But breeds the giver a return exceeding
All use of quittance.
1 Lord. The noblest mind he carries
That ever govern'd man. [Shall we in ?
2 Lord. Long may he live in fortunes !
i Lord. I '11 keep you company. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. ATHENS. A Room of State in
TIMON'S House.
Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet
served in; FLAVIUS and others attending;
then enter TIMON, ALCIBIADES, Lucius,
LUCULLUS, SEMPRONIUS, andother Athenian
Senators, with VENTIDIUS, and Attendants.
Then comes ; dropping after all \ APEMANTUS,
discontentedly.
Ven. Most honour'd Timon, [father's age,
It hath pleas'd the gods to remember my
And call him to long peace.
He is gone happy, and has left me rich :
Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound
SCENE II.}
TIMON OF ATHENS.
795
To your free heart, I do return those talents,
Doubled with thanks and service, from whose
help
I deriv'd liberty.
Tim. O, by no means,
Honest Ventidius; you mistake my love:
I gave it freely ever ; and there 's none
Can truly say he gives if he receives : [dare
If our betters play at that game, we must not
To imitate them ; faults that are rich are fair.
Ven. A noble spirit !
[ They all stand ceremoniously looking on
TIMON.
Tim. Nay, my lords, ceremony was but
devis'd at first
To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes,
Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown ;
But where there is true friendship there needs
none.
Pray, sit ; more welcome are ye to my fortunes
Than my fortunes to me. [They sit.
I Lord. My lord, we always have confess'd it.
Apern. Ho, ho, confess'd it ! hang'd it, have
you not ?
Tim. O, Apemantus ! you are welcome.
Apem. No ;
You shall not make me welcome.
I come to have thee thrust me out of doors.
Tim. Fie, thou art a churl ; you have got a
humour there
Does not become a man ; 'tis much to blame.
They say, my lords, ira furor brevis est;
But yond man is ever angry.
Go, let him have a table by himself;
For he does neither affect company
Nor is he fit for 't, indeed.
Apem. Let me stay at thine apparel, Timon :
I come to observe ; I give thee warning on 't.
Tim* I take no heed of thee; thou art an
Athenian, therefore welcome: I myself would
have no power; pr'ythee, let my meat make
thee silent.
Apem. I scorn thy meat ; 'twould choke me,
for I should ne'er flatter thee. O you gods,
what a number of men eat Timon, and he sees
'em not ! it grieves me to see
So many dip their meat in one man's blood ;
And all the madness is, he cheers them up too.
I wonder men dare trust themselves with men :
Methinks they should invite them without knives;
Good for their meat and safer for their lives.
There 's much example for 't ; the fellow that
sits next him now, parts bread with him,
pledges the breath of him in a divided draught,
is the readiest man to kill him : 't has been
prov'd. If I were a huge man I should fear
to drink at meals,
Lest they should spy my windpipe's dangerous
notes : [throats.
Great men should drink with harness on their
Tim. My lord, in heart ; and let the health
go round.
2 Lord. Let it flow this way, my good lord.
Apem. Flow this way ! A brave fellow ! he
keeps his tides well. Those healths will make
thee and thy state look ill, Timon.
Here 's that which is too weak to be a sinner,
Honest water, which ne'er left man i' the mire :
This and my food are equals ; there 's no odds :
Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods.
APEMANTUS' GRACE.
Immortal gods, I crave no pelf;
I pray for no man but myself:
Grant I may never prove so fond,
To trust man on his oath or bond ;
Or a harlot for her weeping ;
Or a dog that seems a -sleeping;
Or a keeper with my ireedom ;
Or my friends, if I should need 'em.
Amen So fall to t :
Rich men sin, and I eat root.
[Eats and drinks.
Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus !
Tim. Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in
the field now.
Alcib. My heart is ever at your service, my
lord.
Tim. You had rather be at a breakfast of
enemies than a dinner of friends.
Alcib. So they were bleeding-new, my lord,
there 's no meat like them ; I could wish my
best friend at such a feast.
Apem. Would all those flatterers were thine
enemies, then; that then thou might'st kill
'em, and bid me to 'em.
i Lord. Might we but have that happiness,
my lord, that you would once use our hearts,
whereby we might express some part of our
zeals, we should think ourselves for ever perfect.
Tim. O, no doubt, my good friends, but the
gods themselves have provided that I shall have
much help from you : how had you been my
friends else? why have you that charitable title
from thousands, did not you chiefly belong to
my heart? I have told more of you to myself
than you can with modesty speak in your own
behalf; and thus far I confirm you. O you
gods, think I, what need we have any friends
if we should ne'er have need of 'em? they were
the most needless creatures living, should we
ne'er have use for 'em ; and would most
resemble sweet instruments hung up in cases,
that keep their sounds to themselves. Why, I
have often wished myself poorer, that I might
come nearer to you. We are born to do
79 6
TIMON OF ATHENS.
[ACT i.
benefits : and what better or properer can we
call our own than the riches of our friends?
O, what a precious comfort 'tis to have so
many, like brothers, commanding one another's
fortunes ! O joy, e'en made away ere it can
be born! Mine eyes cannot hold out water,
methinks : to forget their faults I drink to you.
Apem. Thou weepest to make them drink,
Timon. [eyes,
2 Lord. Joy had the like conception in our
And at that instant like a babe sprung up.
Apem. Ho, ho ! I laugh to think that babe
a bastard. [me much.
3 Lord. I promise you, my lord, you mov'd
Apem. Much ! [ Tticket sounded.
Tim. What means that trump?
Enter a Servant.
How now !
Serv. Please you, my lord, there are certain
ladies most desirous of admittance.
Tim. Ladies! what are their wills?
Serv. There comes with them a forerunner,
my lord, which bears that office, to signify
their pleasures.
Tim. I pray, let them be admitted.
Enter CUPID.
Cup. Hail to thee, worthy Timon ; and to all
That of his bounties taste ! The five best senses
Acknowledge thee their patron; and come freely
To gratulate thy plenteous bosom :
The ear, taste, touch, smell, pleas'd from thy
table rise ;
They only now come but to feast thine eyes.
Tim. They are welcome all; let 'em have
kind admittance.
Music, make their welcome ! [Exit CUPID.
I Lord. You see, my lord, how ample
you 're belov'd.
Music. Re-enter CUPID, with, a mask of
Ladies as Amazons , with lutes in their hands,
dancing and playing.
Apem. Hoy-day, what a sweep of vanity
comes this way!
They dance ! they are mad women.
Like madness is the glory of this life,
As this pomp shows to a little oil and root.
We make ourselves fools to disport ourselves,
And spend our flatteries to drink those men
Upon whose age we void it up again,
With poisonous spite and envy.
Who lives that 's not depraved or depraves ?
Who dies that bears not one spurn to their graves
Of their friends' gift?
I should fear those that dance before me now
Would one day stamp upon me: 't has been done;
Men shut their doors against a setting sun.
The Lords rise from table, with much adoring
of TIMON ; and, to show their loves, each
singles out an Amazon, and all dance, men
with women, a lofty strain or two to the haut-
boys, and cease.
Tim. You have done our pleasures much
grace, fair ladies,
Set a fair fashion on our entertainment,
Which was not half so beautiful and kind ;
You have added worth unto 't and lustre,
And entertain'd me with mine own device ;
I am to thank you for 't. [best.
I Lady. My lord, you take us even at the
Apem. Faith, for the worst is filthy; and
would not hold taking, I doubt me. [you :
Tim. Ladies, there is an idle banquet attends
Please you to dispose yourselves.
All Ladies. Most thankfully, my lord.
[Exetint CUPID and Ladies.
Tim. Flavius,
Flav. My lord ?
Tim. The little casket bring me hither.
Flav. Yes, my lord. [Aside.'} More jewels
yet!
There is no crossing him in his humour,
Else I should tell him, well, i' faith, I should,
When all's spent, he'd be cross'd then, an he
could.
'Tis pity bounty had not eyes behind,
That man might ne'er be wretched for his mind.
[Exit, and returns with the casket.
1 Lord. Where be our men ?
Serv. Here, my lord, in readiness.
2 Lord. Our horses !
Tim. O my friends,
I have one word to say to you. Look you,
my good lord,
I must entreat you, honour me so much
As to advance this jewel ; accept it, and wear it.
Kind my lord.
I Lord. I am so far already in your gifts,
All. So are we all.
Enter a Servant.
Serv. My lord, there are certain nobles of
the senate
Newly alighted, and come to visit you.
Tim. They are fairly welcome.
Flav. I beseech your honour,
Vouchsafe me a word ; it does concern you near.
Tim. Near; why, then, another time I'll
hear thee: [entertainment.
I pr'ythee, let's be provided to show 'em
Flav. I scarce know how.
SCENE II.]
TIMON OF ATHENS.
797
Enter another Servant.
2 Serv. May it please your honour, Lord
Lucius,
Out of his free love, hath presented to you
Four milk-white horses, trapp'd in silver.
Tim. I shall accept them fairly: let the presents
Be worthily entertained.
Enter a third Servant.
How now ! what news ?
3 Serv, Please you, my lord, that honourable
gentleman, Lord Lucullus, entreats your com-
pany to-morrow to hunt with him ; and has
sent your honour two brace of greyhounds.
Tim. I '11 hunt with him ; and let them be
receiv'd,
Not without fair reward.
Flav. [Aside.'} What will this come to?
He commands us to provide, and give great gifts,
And all out of an empty coffer:
Nor will he know his purse ; or yield me this,
To show him what a beggar his heart is,
Being of no power to make his wishes good :
His promises fly so beyond his state
That what he speaks is all in debt, he owes
For every word : he is so kind that he now
Pays interest for 't ; his land 's put to their books.
Well, would I were gently put out of office
Before I were forc'd out !
Happier is he that has no friend to feed
Than such that do e'en enemies exceed.
I bleed inwardly for my lord. [Exit.
Tim. You do yourselves
Much wrong, you bate too much of your own
merits :
Here, my lord, a trifle of our love.
2 Lord. With more than common thanks I
will receive it
3 Lord. O, he is the very soul of bounty !
Tim. And now I remember, my lord, you gave
Good words the other day of a bay courser
I rode on : it is yours because you lik'd it.
3 Lord. O, I beseech you, pardon me, my
lord, in that. [know no man
Tim. You may take my word, my lord ; I
Can justly praise but what he does affect:
I weigh my friend's affection with mine own ;
I '11 tell you true. I '11 call to you.
All Lords. O, none so welcome.
Tim. I take all and your several visitations
So kind to heart, 'tis not enough to give ;
Methinks I could deal kingdoms to my friends
And ne'er be weary. Alcibiades,
Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich ;
It comes in charity to thee : for all thy living
Is 'mongst the dead ; and all the lands thou hast
Lie in a pitch'd field.
Alctb. Ay, defil'd land, my lord.
1 Lord. We are so virtuously bound,
Tim. And so
Am I to you.
2 Lord. So infinitely endear'd,
Tim. All to you. Lights, more lights.
I Lord. The best of happiness,
Honour, and fortunes keep with you, Lord
Timon !
Tim. Ready for his friends.
[Exeunt ALCIBIADES, Lords, &*c.
Apem. What a coil 's here !
Serving of becks and jutting-out of bums !
I doubt whether their legs be worth the sums
That are given for 'em. Friendship's full of
dregs : [legs.
Methinks false hearts should never have sound
Thus honest fools lay out their wealth on
court'sies. [sullen
Tim. Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not
I would be good to thee.
Apem. No, I '11 nothing : for if I should be
bribed too, there would be none left to rail
upon thee ; and then thou wouldst sin the faster.
Thou givest so long, Timon, I fear me thou
wilt give away thyself in paper shortly : what
need these feasts, pomps, and vain glories?
Tim. Nay, an you begin to rail on society
once, I am sworn not to give regard to you.
Farewell ; and come with better music. [Exit.
Apem. So ; thou 'It not hear me now,
thou shall not then, I '11 lock thy heaven from
thee.
O, that men's ears should be
To counsel deaf, but not to flattery ! [Exit.
ACT II.
SCENE I. ATHENS. A Room in a Senator's
House.
Enter a Senator, with papers in his hand.
Sen. And late, five thousand ; to Varro and
to Isidore [sum,
He owes nine thousand ; besides my former
Which makes it five-and-twenty. Still in
motion
Of raging \\aste ? It cannot hold ; it will not.
If I want gold, steal but a beggar's dog
And give it Timon, why, the dog coins gold :
If I would sell my horse and buy twenty more
Better than he, why, give my horse to Timon,
Ask nothing, give it him, it foals me, straight,
And able horses : no porter at his gate ;
But rather one that smiles, and still invites
All that pass by. It cannot hold ; no reason
798
TIMON OF ATHENS.
[ACT II.
Can found his state in safety. Caphis, ho !
Caphis, I say !
Enter CAPHIS.
Caph. Here, sir ; what is your pleasure ?
Sen. Get on your cloak and haste you to
Lord Timon ;
Importune him for my moneys ; be not ceas'd
With slight denial ; nor then silenc'd, when
Commend me to your master and the cap
Plays in the right hand, thus : but tell him
My uses cry to me, I must serve my turn
Out of mine own ; his days and times are past,
And my reliances on his fracted dates
Have smit my credit : I love and honour him ;
But must not break my back to heal his finger :
Immediate are my needs ; and my relief
Must not be toss'd and turn'd to me in words,
But find supply immediate. Get you gone :
Put on a most importunate aspect,
A visage of demand ; for, I do fear,
When every feather sticks in his own wing
Lord Timon will be left a naked gull,
Which flashes now a phoenix. Get you gone.
Caph. I go, sir.
Sen. Take the bonds along with you,
And have the dates in compt.
Caph. I will, sir.
Sen. Go.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. ATHENS. A Hall in TIMON'S
House.
Enter FLAVIUS, "with many bills in his hand.
Flav. No care, no stop ! so senseless of
expense
That he will neither know how to maintain it
Nor cease his flow of riot : takes no account
How things go from him ; nor resumes no care
Of what is to continue : never mind
Was to be so unwise to be so kind.
What shall be done ? he will not hear, till feel :
I must be round with him now he comes from
hunting.
Fie, fie, fie, fie !
Enter CAPHIS, and the Servants of ISIDORE
and VARRO.
Caph. Good -even, Varro : what,
You come for money ?
Var. Serv. Is 't not your business too ?
Caph. It is : and yours too, Isidore ?
Isid. Serv. It is so.
Caph. Would we were all discharg'd !
Var. Serv. I fear it.
Caph. Here comes the lord.
Enter TIMON, ALCIBIADES, and Lords, &e.
Tim. So soon as dinner 's done we '11 forth
again,
My Alcibiades. With me ? what is your will ?
Caph. My lord, here is a note of certain dues.
Tim. Dues ! whence are you ?
Caph. Of Athens here, my lord.
Tim. Go to my steward. [me off
Caph. Please it your lordship, he hath put
To the succession of new days this month :
My master is awak'd by great occasion
To call upon his own ; and humbly prays you
That, with your other noble parts, you '11 suit
In giving him his right.
Tim. Mine honest friend,
I pr'ythee but repair to me next morning.
Caph. Nay, good my lord,
Tim. Contain thyself, good friend.
Var* Serv. One Varro's servant, my good
lord,
Isid. Serv. From Isidore ;
He humbly prays your speedy payment,
Caph. If you did know, my lord, my master's
wants, [six weeks
Var. Serv. 'Twas due on forfeiture, my lord,
And past,
Isid. Serv. Your steward puts me off, my
lord;
And I am sent expressly to your lordship.
Tim. Give me breath.
I do beseech you, good my lords, keep on ;
I '11 wait upon you instantly.
[Exeunt ALCIBIADES and Lords.
Come hither : pray you, [To FLAVIUS.
How goes the world, that I am thus encounter'd
With clamorous demands of date-broke bonds,
And the detention of long-since-due debts,
Against my honour ?
Flav. Please you, gentlemen,
The time is unagreeable to this business :
Your importunacy cease till after dinner ;
That I may make his lordship understand
Wherefore you are not paid.
Tim. Do so, my friends.
See them well entertained. [Exit.
Flav. Pray, draw near. [Exit.
Enter APEMANTUS and Fool.
Caph. Stay, stay, here comes the fool with
Apemantus : let 's ha' some sport with 'em.
Var. Serv. Hang him, he '11 abuse us.
Isid. Serv. A plague upon him, dog !
Var. Serv. How dost, fool ?
Apem. Dost dialogue with thy shadow ?
Var. Serv. I speak not to thee.
Apem. No, 'tis to thyself. Come away.
[To the Fool.
SCENE II.]
TIMON OF ATHENS.
799
hid. Serv. [To Var Serv.] There's the fool
hangs on your back already.
Apem. No, thou stand'st single, thou art not
on him yet.
Caph. Where 's the fool now ?
Apem. Pie last asked the question. Poor
rogues and usurers' men ! bawds between gold
and want !
All Serv. What are we, Apemantus ?
Apem. Asses.
All Serv. Why?
Apem. That you ask me what you are, and
do not know yourselves. Speak to 'em, fool.
Fool. How do you, gentlemen ?
All Serv. Gramercies, good fool : how does
your mistress?
Fool. She's e'en setting on water to scald
such chickens as you are. Would we could
see you at Corinth.
Apem. Good ! gramercy. [page.
Fool. Look you, here comes my mistress'
Enter Page.
Page. [ To the Fool. ] Why, how now, captain ?
what do you in this wise company ? How dost
thou, Apemantus?
Apem. W.nild I had a rod in my mouth,
that I might answer thee profitably.
Page. Pr'ythee, Apemantus, read me the
superscription of these letters : I know not
which is which.
Apem. Canst not read ?
Page. No.
Apem. There will little learning die, then,
that day thou art hanged. This is to Lord
Timon ; this to Alcibiades. Go ; thou wast
born a bastard, and thou 'It die a bawd.
Page. Thou wast whelped a dog, and thou
shalt famish a dog's death. Answer not, I -3TH
gone. [Exit Page.
Apem. E'en so thou outrun'st grace.
Fool, I will go with you to Lord Timon's.
Fool. Will you leave me there ?
Apem. If Timon stay at home. You three
serve three usurers ?
All Serv. Ay ; would they served us !
Apem. So would I, as good a trick as ever
hangman served thief.
Fool. Are you three usurers' men ?
All Serv. Ay, fool.
Fool. I think no usurer but has a fool to his
servant ; my mistress is one, and I am her fool.
When men come to borrow of your masters
they approach sadly and go away merry ; but
they enter my mistress' house merrily and go
away sadly : the reason of this?
Van Serv. 1 could render one.
Apem. Do it, then, that we may account
thee a whoremaster and a knave ; which, not-
withstanding, thou shalt be no less esteemed.
Var. Se)-v. What is a whoremaster, fool ?
Fool. A fool in good clothes, and something
like thee. 'Tis a spirit : sometime it appears
like a lord ; sometime like a lawyer ; some-
time like a philosopher, with two stones more
than 's artificial one. He is very often like a
knight ; and, generally, in all shapes that man
goes up and down in from fourscore to thirteen
this spirit walks in.
Var. Serv. Thou art not altogether a fool.
Fool. Nor thou altogether a wise man: as
much foolery as I have, so much wit thou lackest.
Apem. That answer might have become
Apemantus. [Timon.
Var. Serv. Aside, aside ; here comes Lord
Re-enter TlMON and FLAVIUS.
Apem. Come with me, fool, come.
Fool. I do not always follow lover, elder
brother, and woman ; sometime the philosopher.
[Exeunt APEMANTUS and Fool.
Flav. Pray you, walk near ; I '11 speak with
you anon. [Exeunt Serv.
Tim. You make me marvel : wherefore, ere
this time,
Had you not fully laid my state before me ;
That I might so have rated my expense
As I had leave of means ?
Flav. You would not hear me
At many leisures I propos'd.
Tim- Go to :
Perchance some single vantages you took
When my indisposition put you back ;
And that unaptness made you minister
Thus to excuse yourself.
Flav. O my good lord
At many times I brought in my accounts, [off,
Laid them before you ; you would throw them
And say you found them in mine honesty.
When, for some trifling present, you have bid
me [wept ;
Return so much, I have shook my head and
Yea, 'gainst the authority of manners, pray'd you
To hold your hand more close : I did endure
Not seldom, nor no slight checks, when I have
Prompted you, in the ebb of your estate,
And your great flow of debts. My loved lord,
Though you hear now, too late ! yet now 's
a time,
The greatest of your having lacks a half
To pay your present debts.
Tim. Let all my land be sold.
Flav. 'Tis all engaged, some forfeited and
gone;
8oo
TIMON OF ATHENS.
[ACT ii.
And what remains will hardly stop the mouth
Of present dues : the future comes apace :
What shall defend the interim ? and at length
How goes our reckoning ?
Tim. To Lacedaemon did my land extend.
Flav. O my good lord, the world is but a
word:
Were it all yours to give it in a breath,
How quickly were it gone !
Tim. You tell me true.
Flav. If you suspect my husbandry or false-
hood,
Call me before the exactest auditors
And set me on the proof. So the gods bless me,
When all our offices have been oppress'd
With riotous feeders ; when our vaults have wept
With drunken spilth of wine ; when every room
Hath blaz'd with lights and bray'd with min-
strelsy ;
I have retir'd me to a wasteful cock,
And set mine eyes at flow.
Tim Pr'ythee, no more.
Flav. Heavens, have I said, the bounty of
this lord ! [ants
How many prodigal bits have slaves and peas-
This night englutted ! Who is not Timon's ?
What heart, head, sword, force, means, but is
Lord Timon's ?
Great Timon, noble, worthy, royal Timon !
Ah ! when the means are gone that buy this
praise
The breath is gone whereof this praise is made :
Feast-won, fast-lost ; one cloud of winter
showers,
These flies are couch'd.
Tim. Come, sermon me no further :
No villanous bounty yet hath passed my heart ;
Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given.
Why dost thou weep? Canst thou the con-
science lack
To think I shall lack friends? Secure thy
heart ;
If I would broach the vessels of my love,
And try the argument of hearts by borrowing,
Men and men's fortunes could I frankly use
As I can bid thee speak.
Flav. Assurance bless your thoughts !
Tim. And, in some sort, these wants of mine
are crown 'd
That I account them blessings ; for by these
Shall I try friends : you shall perceive how you
Mistake my fortunes ; I am weal thy in my friends.
Within there ! Flaminius ! Servilius !
Enter FLAMINIUS, SERVILIUS, and other
Servants.
Serv. My lord ? my lord ?
Tim. I will despatch you severally : you to
Lord Lucius ; to Lord Lucullus you ; I hunted
with his honour to-day ; you to Sempronius :
commend me to their loves ; and I am proud,
say, that my occasions have found time 10 use
'em toward a supply of money : let the request
be fifty talents.
Flam. As you have said, my lord.
Flav. Lord Lucius and Lucullus ? hum !
[Aside.
Tim. Go you, sir, [ to another Serv.] to the
senators,
Of whom, even to the state's best health, I have
Deserv'd this hearing, bid 'em send o' the instant
A thousand talents to me.
Flav. I have been bold,
For that I knew it the most general way,
To them to use your signet and your name ;
But they do shake their heads, and I am here
No richer in return.
Tim. Is 't true ? can 't be ?
Flav. They answer, in a joint and corporate
voice,
That now they are at fall, want treasure, cannot
Do what they would ; are sorry you are
honourable, [not
But yet they could have wish'd they know
Something hath been amiss a noble nature
May catch a wrench would all were well
/tis pity ;
And so, intending other serious matters,
After distasteful looks, and these hard fractions,
With certain half- caps and cold-moving nods,
They froze me into silence.
Tim. You gods, reward them ?
Pr'ythee, man, look cheerly These old fellows
Have their ingratitude in them hereditary :
Their blood is cak'd, 'tis cola, it seldom flows ;
'Tis lack of kindly warmth they are not kind ;
And nature, as it grows again toward earth,
Is fashion'd for the journey dull and heavy.
Go to Ventidius [ to a Serv ] ; pr'ythee, [ to
FLAVIUS] be not sad,
Thou art true and honest ; ingeniously I speak,
No blame belongs to thee: \To Serv.] Ven-
tidius lately
Buried his father ; by whose death he 's stepp'd
Into a great estate : when he was poor,
Imprison'd, and in scarcity of friends, [me ;
I clear'd him with five talents : greet him from
Bid him suppose some good necessity [ber'd
Touches his friend, which craves to be remem-
With those five talents: \To FLAV.] That
had, give 't these fellows
To whom 'tis instant due. Ne'er speak or
think [sink.
That Timon's fortunes 'mong his friends can
SCENE II.]
TIMON OF ATHENS.
801
Flav. I would I could not think it: that
thought is bounty's foe ;
Being free itself it thinks all others so. {Exeunt.
,'f-
ACT III.
SCENE I. ATHENS. A Room in LUCULLUS'
House.
FLAMINIUS waiting. Enter a Servant to
him.
Serv. I have told my lord of you ; he is
coming down to you.
Flam. I thank you, sir.
Enter LUCULLUS
Serv. Here 's my lord.
LucuL {Aside.'} One of Lord Timon's men?
a gift, I warrant. Why, this hits right ; I
dreamt of a silver basin and ewer to-night.
Flaminius, honest Flaminius ; you are very
respectively welcome, sir. Fill me some wine.
{Exit Servant.] And how does that honour-
able, complete, free-hearted gentleman of
Athens, thy very bountiful good lord and
master ?
Flam. His health is well, sir,
Lucul. I am right glad that his health is well,
sir : and what hast thou Uere under thy cloak,
pretty Flaminius?
Flam. Faith, nothing but an empty box, sir ;
which, in my lord's behalf, I come to entreat
your honour to supply ; who, having great and
instant occasion to use fifty talents, hath sent to
your lordship to furnish him, nothing doubting
your present assistance therein.
Lucul. La, la, la, la, nothing doubting,
says he ? Alas, good lord ! a noble gentleman
'tis, if he would not keep so good a house.
Many a time and often I ha'e dined with him
and told him on 't ; and come again to supper
to him of purpose tc have him spend less ; and
yet he would embrace no counsel, take no
warning by my coming. Every man has his
fault, and honesty is his : I ha'e told him on 't,
but I could ne'er get him from 't.
Re-enter Servant, with wine.
Serv. Please your lordship, here is the wine.
Liuul. Flaminius, I have noted thee always
wise. Here 's to thee.
Flam. Your lordship speaks your pleasure.
LucuL I have observed thee always for a to-
wardly prompt spirit, give thee thy due, and
one that knows what belongs to reason; and
canst use the time well, if the time use thee
well : good parts in thee. Get you gone, sirrah
[to the Servant, who goes out.] Draw nearer,
honest Flaminius. Thy lord 's a bountiful
gentleman: but thou art wise; and thou
knowest well enough, although thou comest to
me, that this is no time to lend money ; especially
upon bare friendship, without security. I lere 's
three solidares for thee : good boy, wink at me,
and say thou saw'st me not. Fare thee well.
Flam. Is't possible the world should so
much differ :
And we alive that liv'd ! Fly, damned baseness,
To him that worships thee.
[ Throwing the money back.
Lucul. Ha ! now I see thou art a fool, and fit
for thy master. {Exit.
Flam* May these add to the number that
may scald thee !
Let molten coin be thy damnation,
Thou disease of a friend and not himself!
Has friendship such a faint and milky heart,
It turns in less than two nights? O you gods,
I feel my master's passion ! This slave
Unto his honour has my lord's meat in him :
Why should it thrive and turn to nutriment
When he is turn'd to poison?
O, may diseases only work upon 't !
And when he 's sick to death, let not that part
of nature
Which my lord paid for, be of any power
To expel sickness, but prolong his hour !
{Exit.
SCENE II. ATHENS. A public Place.
Enter Lucius, with Three Strangers.
Luc Who, the Lord Timon? he is my very
good friend, and an honourable gentleman.
1 Stran. We know him for no less, though
we are but strangers to him. But I can tell
you one thing, my lord, and which I hear from
common rumours, now Lord Timon's happy
hours are done and past, and his estate shrinks
from him.
Luc. Fie, no, do not believe it; he cannot
want for money.
2 Stran. But believe you this, my lord, that
not long ago, one of his men was with the Lord
Lucullus to borrow so many talents; nay, urged
extremely for 't, and showed what necessity be-
longed to 't, and yet was denied.
Luc. How?
2 Stran. I tell you, denied, my lord.
Luc. What a strange case was that ! now,
before the gods, I am ashamed on 't. Denied
that honourable man! there was very little
honour showed in 't. For my own part, I must
2 C
802
TIMON OF ATHENS.
[ACT in.
needs confess I have received some small kind-
nesses from him, as money, plate, jewels, and
such like trifles, nothing comparing to his ; yet,
had he mistook him and sent to me, I should
ne'er have denied his occasion so many talents.
Enter SERVILIUS.
Ser. See, by good hap, yonder 's my lord ; I
have sweat to see his honour. My honoured
lord, [To Lucius.
Luc. Servilius ! you are kindly met, sir. Fare
thee well: commend me to thy honourable-
virtuous lord, my very exquisite friend.
Ser. May it please your honour, my lord
hath sent, -B j 7i:
Luc. Ha! what has he sent? I am so much
endeared to that lord ; he 's ever sending : how
shall I thank him, thinkest thou? And what
has he sent now?
Ser. Has only sent his present occasion now,
my lord ; requesting your lordship to supply his
instant use with so many talents.
Luc. I know his lordship is but merry with
me;
He cannot want fifty-five hundred talents.
Ser. But in the meantime he wants less, my
lord.
If his occasion were not virtuous
I should not urge it half so faithfully.
Luc. Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius?
Ser. Upon my soul, 'tis true, sir.
Luc. What a wicked beast was I to disfurnish
myself against such a good time, when I might
ha' shown myself honourable ! how unluckily it
happened that I should purchase the day before
for a little part, and undo a great deal of honour !
Servilius, now, before the gods, I am not able
to do 't, the more beast, I say. I was send-
ing to use Lord Timon myself, these gentlemen
can witness ; but I would not for the wealth of
Athens I had done't now. Commend me
bountifully to his good lordship ; and I hope
his honour will conceive the fairest of me,
because I have no power to be kind : and tell
him this from me, I count it one of my greatest
afflictions, say, that I cannot pleasure such an
honourable gentleman. Good Servilius, will
you befriend me so far as to use mine own
words to him ?
Ser. Yes, sir, I shall.
Luc. I '11 look you out a good turn, Servilius.
[Exit SERVILIUS.
True, as you said, Timon is shrunk indeed ;
And he that 's once denied will hardly speed.
[Exit.
1 Stran. Do you observe this, Hostilius?
2 Stran. Ay, too well.
I Stran. Why, this is the world's soul ; and
just of the same piece
Is every flatterer's spirit. Who can call him
His friend that dips in the same dish? for, in
My knowing, Timon has been this lord's father,
And kept his credit with his purse ;
Supported his estate ; nay, Timon's money
Has paid his men their wages : he ne'er drinks
But Timon's silver treads upon his lip ;
And yet, O see the monstrousness of man
When he looks out in an ungrateful shape !
He does deny him, in respect of his,
What charitable men afford to beggars.
3 Stran. Religion groans at it
I Stran. For mine own part,
I never tasted Timon in my life,
Nor came any of his bounties over me
To mark me for his friend ; yet I protest,
For his right noble mind, illustrious virtue,
And honourable carriage,
Had his necessity made use of me,
I would have put my wealth into donation,
And the best half should have return'd to him,
So much I love his heart : but, I perceive,
Men must learn now with pity to dispense :
For policy sits above conscience. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. ATHENS. A Room in
SEMPRONIUS' House.
Enter SEMPRONIUS and a Servant of
TIMON'S.
Sem. Must he needs trouble me in 't, hum !
'bove all others?
He might have tried Lord Lucius or Lucullus ;
And now Ventidius is wealthy too,
Whom he redeem'd from prison : all these
Owe their estates unto him.
Serv. My lord,
They have all been touch'd and found base
metal; for
They have all denied him.
Sem. How ! have they denied him ?
Has Ventidius and Lucullus denied him?
And does he send to me? Three? hum !
It shows but little love or judgment in him :
Must I be his last refuge J His friends, like
physicians,
Thrive, give him over: must I take the cure
upon me? him,
Has much disgrac'd me in't; I am angry at
That might have known my place : I see no
sense for 't,
But his occasions might have woo'd me first ;
For, in my conscience, I was the first man
That e'er received gift from him :
And does he think so backwardly of me now
SCENE IV.]
TIMON OF ATHENS.
803
That I '11 requite it last? No:
So it may prove an argument of laughter
To the rest, and 'mongst the lords I be thought
a fool.
I had rather than the worth of thrice the sum
Had sent to me first, but for my mind's sake ;
I had such a courage to do him good. But now
return,
And with their faint reply this answer join ;
Who bates mine honour shall not know my coin.
[Exit.
Serv. Excellent! Your lordship 's a goodly
villain. The devil knew not what he did when
he made man politic, he cross'd himself by 't :
and I cannot think but, in the end, the villanies
of man will set him clear. How fairly this lord
strives to appear foul ! takes virtuous copies to
be wicked ; like those that under hot ardent
zeal would set whole realms on fire :
Of such a nature is his politic love.
This was my lord's best hope ; now all are fled,
Save only the gods: now his friends are dead,
Doors, that were ne'er acquainted with their
wards
Many a bounteous year, must be employ'd
Now to guard sure their master.
And this is all a liberal course allows ;
Who cannot keep his wealth must keep his
house. [Exit.
SCENE IV. ATHENS. A Hall in TIMON'S
House.
Enter Two Servants of VARRO and the Servant
of Lucius, meeting TITUS, HORTENSIUS,
and other Servants of TIMON'S creditors^
waiting his coming out.
i Var. Serv. Well met ; good-morrow, Titus
and Hortensius.
Tit. The like to you, kind Varro.
Hor. Lucius !
What, do we meet together ?
Luc. Serv. Ay, and I think
One business does command us all ; for mine
Is money.
^ Tit. So is theirs and ours.
Enter PHILOTUS.
Luc. Serv. And Sir Philotus too !
Phi. Good-day at once.
Luc. Serv. Welcome, good brother.
What do you think the hour?
Phi. Labouring for nine.
Luc. Serv. So much?
Phi. Is not my lord seen yet?
Luc. Serv. Not yet.
Phi. I wonder on 't : he was wont to shine
at seven.
Luc. Serv. Ay, but the days are waxed shorter
with him :
You must consider that a prodigal course
Is like the sun's ; but not, like his, recoverable.
I fear
'Tis deepest winter in Lord Timon's purse ;
That is, one may reach deep enough and yet
Find little.
Phi. I am of your fear for that. [event.
Tit. I '11 show you how to observe a strange
Your lord sends now for money.
Hor. Most true, he does.
Tit. And he wears jewels now of Timon's gift,
For which I wait for money.
Hor. It is against my heart.
Luc. Serv. Mark how strange it shows,
Timon in this should pay more than he owes :
And e'en as if your lord should wear rich jewels
And send for money for 'em.
Hor. I am weary of this charge, the gods
can witness :
I know my lord hath spent of Timon's wealth,
And now ingratitude makes it worse than stealth.
I Var. Serv. Yes, mine's three thousand
crowns : what 's yours ?
Luc. Serv. Five thousand mine.
I Var. Serv. 'Tis much deep : and it should
seem by the sum
Your master's confidence was above mine ;
Else, surely, his had equall'd.
Enter FLAMINIUS.
Tit. One of Lord Timon's men.
Luc. Serv. Flaminius ! sir, a word : pray, is
my lord ready to come forth ?
Flam. No, indeed, he'is not.
Tit. We attend his lordship ; pray, signify
so much.
Flam. I need not tell him that ; he knows
you are too diligent. [Exit.
Enter FLAVIUS, in a cloak , muffled.
Luc. Serv. Ha ! is not that his steward
muffled so ?
He goes away in a cloud : call him, call him.
Tit. Do you hear, sir ?
Both Var. Serv. By your leave, sir,
Flav. What do you ask of me, my friends ?
Tit. We wait for certain money here, sir.
Flav. Ay,
If money were as certain as your waiting
'Twere sure enough.
Why then preferr'd you not your sums and bills
When your false masters eat of my lord's meat?
Then they could smile, and fawn upon his
debts, [maws.
And take down th' interest into their gluttonous
804
TIMON OF ATHENS.
[ACT III.
You do yourselves but wrong to stir me up ;
Let me pass quietly :
Believe 't my lord and I have made an end j
I have no more to reckon, he to spend.
Liic. Serv. Ay, but this answer will not serve.
Flav. If 'twill not serve 'tis not so base as you ;
For you serve knaves. [Exit
1 Var. Serv. How ! What does his cashier'd
worship mutter ?
2 Var. Serv. No matter what ; he 's poor,
and that's revenge enough. Who can speak
broader than he that has no house to put his
head in ? such may rail against great buildings.
Enter SERVILIUS.
Tit. O, here 's Servilius ; now we shall know
some answer.
Ser. If I might beseech you, gentlemen, to
repair some other hour, I should much derive
from 't ; for, take 't of my soul, my lord leans
wondrously to discontent : his comfortable tem-
per has forsook him ; he is much out ot health,
and keeps his chamber, [not sick :
Luc. Serv. Many do keep their chambers are
And, if it be so far beyond his health,
Methinks he should the sooner pay his debts,
And make a clear way to the gods.
Ser. Good gods !
Tit. We cannot take this for answer, sir.
Flam. [ Within. ] Servilius, help ! my lord !
my lord !
.SwterTiMON, in a rage; FLAMINIUS/^/^Z^/W^;
Tint. What, are my doors oppos'd against
my passage ?
Have I been ever free, and must my house
Be my retentive enemy, my gaol ?
The place which I have feasted, does it now,
Like all mankind, show me an iron heart ?
Luc. Serv. Put in now, Titus.
Tit. My lord, here is rny bill.
Luc. Serv. Here 's mine.
Hor. Serv. And mine, my lord.
Both. Var. Serv. And ours, my lord.
Phi. All our bills. [to the girdle.
Tim. Knock me down with 'em : cleave me
Luc. Serv. Alas, my lord,
Tim. Cut my heart in sums.
Tit. Mine, fifty talents.
Tim. Tell out my blood.
Luc. Serv. Five thousand crowns, my lord.
Tim. Five thousand drops pays that.
What yours ? and yours ?
1 Var. Serv. My lord,
2 Var. Serv. My lord,
Tim. Tear me, take me, and the gods fall
upon you t [Exit.
Hor. Faith, I perceive our masters may
throw their caps at their money : these debts
may well be called desperate ones, for a mad-
man owes 'em. [Exeunt.
Re-enter TIMON and FLAVIUS.
Tim. They have e'en put my breath from
me, the slaves.
Creditors ! devils.
Flav. My dear lord,
Tim. What if it should be so ?
Flam. My lord,
Tim. I '11 have it so. My steward !
Flav. Here, my lord.
Tim. So fitly ? Go, bid all my friends again,
Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius ; all :
I 'II once more feast the rascals
Flav. O my lord,
You only speak from your distracted soul ;
There is not so much left to furnish out
A moderate table.
Tim. Be 't not in thy care J go,
I charge thee, invite them all : let in the tide
Of knaves once more ; my cook and I J ll pro-
vide, [Exeunt.
SCENE V k ATHENS. The Senate House.
.
The Senate sitting.
1 Sen. My lords, you have my voice to it ;
the fault 's
Bloody ; 'tis necessary he should die :
Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.
2 Sen. Most true ; the law shall bruise him.
Enter ALCIBIADES, attended.
Alcib. Honour, health, and compassion to
the senate !
I Sen. Now, captain ?
Alcib. I am an humble suitor to your virtues ;
For pity is the virtue of the law,
And none but tyrants use it cruelly.
It pleases time and fortune to lie heavy:
Upon a friend of mine, who, in hot blood,
I lath stepp'd into the law, which is past depth
To those that without heed do plunge into 't.
He is a man, setting his fate aside,
Of comely virtues :
Nor did he soil the fact with cowardice,
An honour in him which buys out his fault,
But with a noble fury and fair spirit,
Seeing his reputation touch'd to death,
He did oppose his foe :
And with such sober and unnoted passion
He did behove his anger ere 'twas spent,
As if he had but prov'd an argument.
I Sen. You undergo too strict a paradox,
SCENE V.]
TIMON OF ATHENS.
805
Striving to make an ugly deed look fair :
Your words have took such pains, as if they
laboured [quarrelling
To bring manslaughter into form, and set
Upon the head of valour ; which, indeed,
Is valour misbegot, and came into the world
When sects and factions were newly born :
He 's truly valiant that can wisely suffer
The worst that man can breathe ; and make
> his wrongs [carelessly ;
His outsides, to wear them like his raiment,
And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart,
To bring it into danger.
If wrongs be evils, and enforce us kill,
What folly 'tis to hazard life for ill !
Alcib. My lord, [clear :
1 Sen. You cannot make gross sins look
To revenge is no valour, but to bear. [me,
Alcib. My lords, then, under favour, pardon
If I speak like a captain :
Why do fond men expose themselves to battle,
And not endure all threats ? sleep upon 't,
And let the foes quietly cut their throats,
Without repugnancy ? but if there be
Such valour in the bearing, what make we
Abroad ? why, then, women are more valiant,
That stay at home, if bearing carry it ;
And th' ass more captain than the lion ; the
fellow
Loaden with irons wiser than the judge,
If wisdom be in suffering. O my lords,
As you are great, be pitifully good :
Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood ?
To kill, I grant, is sin's extremest gust ;
But, in defence, by mercy, 'tis most just
To be in anger is impiety ;
But who is man that is not angry ?
Weigh but the crime with this.
2 Sen. You breathe in vain.
Alcib. In vain ! his service done
At Lacedsemon and Byzantium
Were a sufficient briber for his life.
1 Sen. What's that?
Alcib. Why, I say, my lords, h'as done fair
service,
And slain in fight many of your enemies :
How full of valour did he bear himself
In the last conflict, and made plenteous wounds !
2 Sen. He has made too much plenty with
'em, he
Is a sworn rioter : he has a sin that often
Drowns him, and takes his valour prisoner :
If there were no foes, that were enough
To overcome him : in that beastly fury
He has been known to commit outrages
And cherish factions : 'tis inferr'd to us
His days are foul and his drink dangerous.
I Sen. He dies.
Alcib. Hard fate ! he might have died in war.
My lords, if not for any parts in him, ^
Though his right arm might purchase his own
time,
And be in debt to none, yet, more to move
you,
Take my deserts to his, and join them both :
And, for I know your reverend ages love
Security, I '11 pawn my victories, all
My honours to you, upon his good returns.
If by this crime he owes the law his life,
Why, let the war receiv 't in valiant gore ;
For law is strict, and war is nothing more.
1 Sen. We are for law, he dies ; urge it no
more,
On height of our displeasure : friend or brother,
He forfeits his own blood that spills another.
Alcib. Must it be so ? it must not be. My lords,
I do beseech you, know me.
2 Sen. How I
Alcib. Call me to your remembrances.
3 Sen. What I
Alcib. I cannot think but your age has for-
got me ;
It could not else be I should prove so base
To sue, and be denied such common grace :
My wounds ache at you.
I Sen. Do you dare our anger?
'Tis in few words, but spacious in effect ;
We banish thee for ever.
Alcib. Banish me !
Banish your dotage ; banish usury,
That makes the senate ugly,
i Sen. If, after two days' shine, Athens con-
tain thee,
Attend our weightier judgment. And, not to
swell our spirit,
He shall be executed presently.
[Exeunt Senators.
Alcib. Now the gods keep you old enough ;
that you may live
Only in bone, that none may look on you !
I am worse than mad : I have kept back their
foes,
While they have told their money, and let out
Their coin upon large interest ; I myself
Rich only in large hurts ; all those for this ?
Is this the balsam that the usuring senate
Pours into captains' wounds? Ha ! banishment ?
It comes not ill ; I hate not to be banish'd ;
It is a cause worthy my spleen and fury,
That I may strike at Athens. I '11 cheer up
My discontented troops, and lay for hearts.
'Tis honour with most lands to be at odds ;
Soldiers should brook as little wrongs as gods.
{Exit.
So6
TIMON OF ATHENS.
[ACT HI.\
SCENE VI. ATHENS. A magnificent Room
in TIMON'S House.
Music. Tables set out: Servants attending.
Enter divers Lords at several doors.
1 Lord. The good time of day to you, sir.
2 Lord. I also wish it to you. I think this
honourable lord did but try us this other day.
1 Lord. Upon that were my thoughts tiring
when we encountered : I hope it is not so low
with him as he made it seem in the trial of his
several friends.
2 Lord. It should not be by the persuasion
of his new feasting.
1 Lord. I should think so : he hath sent me
an earnest inviting, which many my near occa-
sions did urge me to put off; but he hath
conjured me beyond them, and I must needs
appear.
2 Lord. In like manner was I in debt to my
importunate business, but he would not hear
my excuse. I am sorry, when he sent to borrow
of me, that my provision was out.
1 Lord. I am sick of that grief too, as I
understand how all things go.
2 Lord. Every man here 's so. What would
he have borrowed of you ?
1 Lord. A thousand pieces.
2 Lord. A thousand pieces !
I Lord. What of you ?
3 Lord. He sent to me, sir, Here he comes.
Enter TIMON and Attendants.
Tim. With all my heart, gentlemen both.
And how fare you ?
1 Lord. Ever at the best, hearing well of
your lordship.
2 Lord. The swallow follows not summer
more willing than we your lordship.
Tim. Nor more willingly leaves winter ;
such summer -birds are men. [Aside.'} Gentle-
men, our dinner will not recompense this long
stay : feast your ears with the music awhile, if
they will fare so harshly o' the trumpet's
sound ; we shall to 't presently.
1 Lord. I hope it remains not unkindly
with your lordship that I returned you an
empty messenger.
Tim. O, sir, let it not trouble you.
2 Lord. My noble lord,
Tim. Ah, my good friend ! what cheer ?
2 Lord. My most honourable lord, I am e'en
sick of shame that, when your lordship this
other day sent to me, I was so unfortunate a
beggar.
Tim. Think not on 't, sir.
t
2 Lord. If you had sent but two hours
before,
Tim. Let it not cumber your better remem-
brance. Come, bring in all together.
[ The banquet brought in.
2 Lord. All covered dishes !
I Lord. Royal cheer, I warrant you.
3 Lord. Doubt not that, if money and the
season can yield it.
i Lord. How do you ? What 's the news ?
3 Lord. Alcibiades is banished: hear you of it?
I Sr* 2 Lord. Alcibiades banished !
3 Lord. 'Tis so, be sure of it.
1 Lord. How ! how !
2 Lord. I pray you, upon what ?
Tim. My worthy friends, will you draw near?
3 Lord. I '11 tell you more anon. Here 's a
noble feast toward.
2 Lord. This is the old man still.
3 Lord. Will't hold? will't hold?
2 Lord. It does : but time will and so,
3 Lord. I do conceive.
Tim. Each man to his stool with that spur
as he would to the lip of his mistress : your
diet shall be in all places alike. Make not a
city feast of it, to let the meat cool ere we can
agree upon the first place : sit, sit. The gods
require our thanks.
You great benefactors, sprinkle our society with
thankfulness. For your own gifts make yourselves
praised : but reserve still to give, lest your deities be
despised. Lend to each man enough, that one need
not lend to another ; for, were your godheads to borrow
of men, men would forsake the gods. Make the meat
be beloved more than the man that gives it. Let no
assembly of twenty be without a score of villains : if
there sit twelve women at the table, let a dozen of them
be as they are. The rest of your fees, O gods, the
senators of Athens, together with the common tag of
people, what is amiss in them, you gods, make suit-
able for destruction. For these my present friends, as
they are to me nothing, so in nothing bless them, and
to nothing are they welcome.
Uncover, dogs, and lap.
[ The dishes , when uncovered, are seen
to be full of warm water.
Some speak. What does his lordship mean ?
Some other. I know not.
Tim. May you a better feast never behold,
You knot of mouth-friends ! smoke and luke-
warm water
Is your perfection. This is Timon's last ;
Who, stuck and spangled with your flatteries,
Washes it off, and sprinkles in your faces
[ Throwing the water in their faces.
Your reeking villany. Live loath'd and long,
Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites,
Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek
bears, [flies,
You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time's
SCENE VI.]
TIMON OF ATHENS.
807
Cap and knee slaves, vapours, and minute-jacks!
Of man and beast the infinite malady
Crust you quite o'er ! What, dost you go ?
Soft, take thy physic first, thou too, and
thou ;
Stay, I will lend thee money, borrow none.
[ Throws the dishes at them, and
drives them out.
What, all in motion ? Henceforth be no feast
Whereat a villain 's not a welcome guest.
Burn, house ! sink, Athens ! henceforth hated be
Of Timon, man, and all humanity ! [Exit.
Re-enter the Lords.
1 Lord. How now, my lords !
2 Lord. Know you the quality of Lord
Timon's fury?
3 Lord. Pish ! did you see my cap ?
4 Lord. I have lost my gown.
1 Lord. He's but a mad lord, and naught
but humour sways him. He gave me a jewel
the other day, and now he has beat it out of
my hat : did you see my jewel ?
3 Lord. Did you see my cap ?
2 Lord. Here 'tis.
4 Lord. Here lies my gown.
1 Lord. Let 's make no stay.
2 Lord. Lord Timon 's mad.
3 Lord. I feel 't upon my bones.
4 Lord. One day he gives us diamonds, next
day stones. [Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. Without the Walls ^ATHENS.
Enter TIMON.
Tim. Let me look back upon thee, O thou
wall
That girdlest in those wolves, dive in the earth
And fence not Athens ! Matrons, turn incon-
tinent !
Obedience fail in children! slaves and fools,
Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the bench
And minister in their steads! to general filths
Convert, o' the instant, green virginity,
Do't in your parent's eyes ! bankrupts, hold fast ;
Rather than render back, out with your knives
And cut your trusters' throats ! bound servants,
steal !
Large-handed robbers your grave masters are,
And pill by law ! maid, to thy master's bed,
Thy mistress is o' the brothel ! son of sixteen,
Pluck the lin'd crutch from thy old limping sire,
With it beat out his brains ! piety and fear,
Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth,
Domestic awe, night- rest, and neighbourhood,
Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades,
Degrees, observances, customs and laws,
Decline to your confounding contraries, [men,
And let confusion live! Plagues incident to
Your potent and infectious fevers heap
On Athens, ripe for stroke ! thou cold sciatica,
Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt
As lamely as their manners ! lust and liberty
Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth,
That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive
And drown themselves in riot ! itches, blains,
Sow all the Athenian bosoms ; and their crop
Be general leprosy ! breath infect breath ;
That their society, as their friendship, may
Be merely poison ! Nothing I '11 bear from thee
But nakedness, thou detestable town!
Take thou that too, with multiplying banns!
Timon will to the woods ; where he shall find
The unkindest beast more kinder than mankind.
The gods confound, hear me, ye good gods
all,
The Athenians both within and out that wall !
And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow
To the whole race of mankind, high and low !
Amen. [Exit.
c oi.agR iw :.. i eu/tp! -TUV ::J oiiV -
SCENE II. ATHENS. A Room in TIMON'S
House.
Enter FLAVIUS, with Two or Three Servants.
i Serv. Here you, master steward, where 's
our master?
Are we undone ? cast off? nothing remaining ?
Flav. Alack, my fellows, what should I say
to you ?
Let me be recorded by the righteous gods,
I am as poor as you.
1 Serv. Such a house broke !
So noble a master fall'n ! All gone ! and not
One friend to take his fortune by the arm
And go along with him !
2 Serv. As we do turn our backs
To our companion thrown into his grave,
So his familiars from his buried fortunes
Slink all away ; leave their false vows with him,
Like empty purses pick'd ; and his poor self,
A dedicated beggar to the air,
With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty,
Walks, like contempt, alone. More of our
fellows.
Enter other Servants.
Flav. All broken implements of a ruin'd
house. [livery,
3 Serv. Yet do our hearts wear Timon's
That see I by our faces ; we are fellows still,
Serving alike in sorrow : kak'd is our bark ;
8o8
TIMON OF ATHENS.
[ACT iv.
And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck
Hearing the surges threat : we must all part
Into this sea of air.
Flav. Good fellows all,
The latest of my wealth I '11 share amongst you.
Wherever we shall meet, for Timon's sake,
Let 's yet be fellows ; let 's shake our heads,
and say,
As 'twere a knell unto our master's fortune,
We have seen better days. Let each take some.
[Giving them money.
Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word
more :
Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor.
[Servants embrace, and part several ways.
O, the fierce wretchedness that glory brings us !
Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt
Since riches point to misery and contempt ?
Who would be so mock'd with glory ? or to live
But in a dream of friendship ? [pounds,
To have his pomp, and all what state corn-
But only painted, like his varnish'd friends?
Poor honest lord, brought low by his own heart,
Undone by goodness ! strange, unusual blood,
When man's worst sin is, he does too much good !
Who then -dares to be half so kind again ?
For bounty, that makes gods, does still mar
men.
My dearest lord, bless'd to be most accurs'd,
Rich only to be wretched, thy great fortunes
Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord !
He 's flung in rage from this ingrateful seat
Of monstrous friends ; nor has he with him to
Supply his life, or that which can command it.
I '11 follow and enquire him out :
I '11 ever serve his mind with my best will ;
Whilst I have gold, I '11 be his steward still.
[Exit.
SCENE III. The Woods. Before TIMON'S
Cave.
Enter TIMON.
Tint. O blessed breeding sun, draw from the
earth
Rotten humidity ; below thy sister's orb
Infect the air ! Twinn'd brothers of one womb,
Whose procreation, residence, and birth
Scarce is dividant, touch them with several
fortunes ;
The greater scorns the lesser : not nature,
To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great
fortune
But by contempt of nature.
Raise me this beggar and deny 't that lord ;
The senator shall bear contempt hereditary
The beggar native honour.
It is the pasture lards the other's sides,
The want that makes him lean. Who dares,
who dares,
In purity of manhood stand upright,
And say, This man 's a flatterer ? if one be,
So are they all ; for every grise of fortune
Is smooth'd by that below: the learned pate
Ducks to the golden fool : all is oblique ;
There 's nothing level in our cursed natures
But direct villany. Therefore, be abhorred
All feasts, societies, and throngs of men !
His semblable, yea, himself Timon disdains :
Destruction fang mankind ! Earth, yield me
roots ! [Digging.
Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate
With thy most operant poison ! What is here?
Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No,
gods,
I am no idle votarist. Roots, you clear heavens !
Thus much of this will make black, white ;
foul, fair ; [valiant.
Wrong, right ; base, noble ; old, young ; coward,
Ha, you gods ! why this ? what this, you gods ?
why, this [sides ;
Will lug your priests and servants from your
Pluck stout men's pillows from below their
beads:
This yellow slave
Will knit and break religions ; bless the accurs'd;
Make the hoar leprosy ador'd ; place thieves,
And give them title, knee, and approbation,
With senators on the bench : this is it
That makes the wappen'd widow wed again ;
She whom the spital-house and ulcerous sores
Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and
spices
To the April day again. Come, damned earth,
Thou common whore of mankind, that putt'st
odds
Among the rout of nations, I will make thee
Do thy right nature. [March afar off.] Ha !
a drum ? Thou 'rt quick,
But yet I '11 bury thee : thou It go, strong thief,
When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand :
Nay, stay thou out for earnest.
[Keeping some gold.
Enter ALCIBIADES, with drum and fife, in
warlike manner; PHRYNIA and TIMANDRA.
Alcib. What art thou there ? speak.
Tim. A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw
thy heart
For showing me again the eyes of man !
Alcib. What is thy name ? Is man so hateful
to thee,
That art thyself a man ?
Tim. I am misanthropos t and hate mankind.
SCENE III.]
TIMON OF ATHENS.
809
For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,
That I might love thee something.
Alcib. I know thee well ;
But in thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange.
Tim. I know thee too ; and more than that
I know thee
I not desire to know. Follow thy drum ;
With man's blood paint the ground, gules, gules :
Religious canons, civil laws are cruel ;
Then what should war be? This fell whore of
thine
Hath in her more destruction than thy sword,
For all her cherubin look.
Phry. Thy lips rot off !
Tim. I will not kiss thee ; then the rot
returns
To thine own lips again. [change ?
Alcib. How came the noble Timon to this
Tim. As the moon does, by wanting light to
give:
But then renew I could not, like the moon ;
There were no suns to borrow of.
Alcib. Noble Timon,
What friendship may I do thee ?
Tim. None, but to
Maintain my opinion.
Alcib. What is it, Timon?
Tim. Promise me friendship, but perform
none : if thou wilt not promise, the gods plague
thee, for thou art a man ! if thou dost perform,
confound thee, for thou art a man !
Alcib. I have heard in some sort of thy
miseries. [perity.
Tim. Thou saw'st them when I had pros-
Alcib. I see them now ; then was a blessed
time. [harlots.
Tim. As thine is now, held with a brace of
Timan. Is this the Athenian minion whom
the world
Voic'd so regardfully ?
Tim. Art thou Timandra ?
Timan. Yes.
Tim. Be a whore still ! they love thee not
that use thee ;
Give them diseases, leaving with thee their lust.
Make use of thy salt hours : season the slaves
For tubs and baths ; bring down rose-cheek'd
youth to
The tub-fast and the diet.
Timan. Hang thee, monster !
Alcib. Pardon him, sweet Timandra ; for his
wits
Are drown'd and lost in his calamities.
I have but little gold of late, brave Timon,
The want whereof doth daily make revolt
In my penurious band : I have heard and
griev'd,
How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth,
Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighboul
states,
But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them,
Tim. I pr'ythee, beat thy drum, and get thee
fne. [Timon.
am thy friend, and pity thee, dear
Tim. How dost thou pity him whom thou
dost trouble ?
I had rather be alone.
Alcib. Why, fare thee well :
Here is some gold for thee.
Tim. Keep it, I cannot eat it.
Alcib. When I have laid proud Athens on a
heap,
Tim. Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens ?
Alcib. Ay, Timon, and have cause.
Tim. The gods confound them all in thy
conquest ;
And thee after, when thou hast conquer'd 1
Alcib. Why me, Timon ?
Tim. That by killing of villains,
Thou wast born to conquer my country.
Put up thy gold : go on, here 's gold, go on-,
Be as a planetary plague, when Jove
Will o'er some high-vie' d city hang his poison
In the sick air : let not thy sword skip one :
Pity not honour'd age for his white beard,
He is an usurer : strike me the counterfeit matron :
It is her habit only that is honest,
Herself 's a bawd : let not the virgin's cheek
Make soft thy trenchant sword ; for those milk
paps, [eyes,
That through the window-bars bore at men's
Are not within the leaf of pity writ,
But set them down horrible traitors : spare not
the babe, [mercy;
Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their
Think it a bastard, whom the oracle
Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat shall cut,
And mince it sans remorse : swear against
objects ;
Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes ;
Whose proof nor yells of mothers, maids, nor
babes,
Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding,
Shall pierce a jot. There 's gold to pay thy
soldiers :
Make large confusion ; and, thy fury spent,
Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone.
Alcib. Hast thou gold yet? I'll take the
gold thou giv'st me,
Not all thy counsel.
Tim. Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's
curse upon thee !
Phr. dr* Timan. Give us some gold, good
Timon : hast thou more ?
8io
TIMON OF ATHBNS.
[ACT iv.
Tim. Enough to make a whore forswear her
trade, [sluts,
And to make whores a bawd. Hold up, you
Your aprons mountant : you are not oathable,
Although I know you '11 swear, terribly swear,
Into strong shudders and to heavenly agues,
The immortal gods that hear you, spare your
oaths,
I '11 trust to your conditions : be whores still ;
And he whose pious breath seeks to convert you,
Be strong in whore, allure him, burn him up ;
Let your close fire predominate his smoke,
And be no turncoats : yet may your pains six
months [roofs
Be quite contrary : and thatch your poor thin
With burdens of the dead; some that were
hang'd,
No matter : wear them, betray with them :
whore still ;
Paint till a horse may mire upon your face :
A pox of wrinkles !
Phr. &> Timan. Well, more gold. What
then ?
Believe 't, that we '11 do anything for gold.
Tim. Consumptions sow [shins,
In hollow bones of man ; strike their sharp
And mar men's spurring. Crack the lawyer's
voice,
That he may never more false title plead,
Nor sound his quillets shrilly : hoar the flamen,
That scolds against the quality of flesh
And not believes himself down with the nose,
Down with it flat ; take the bridge quite away
Of him that, his particular to foresee,
Smells from the general weal : make curl'd-pate
ruffians bald ;
And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war
Derive some pain from you : plague all ;
That your activity may defeat and quell
The source of all erection. There's more
gold :
Do you damn others and let this damn you,
And ditches grave you all !
Phr. & Timan. More counsel with more
money, bounteous Timon.
Tim. More whore, more mischief first ; I
have given you earnest.
Alcib. Strike up the drum towards Athens !
Farewell, Timon :
If I thrive well I '11 visit thee again.
Tim. If I hope well I '11 never see thee more.
Alcib. I never did thee harm.
Tim. Yes, thou spok'st well of me.
Alcib. Call'st thou that harm ?
Tim, Men daily find it. Get thee away, and
take
'Thy beagles with thee.
Alcib. We but offend him. Strike.
[Drum beats. Exeunt ALCIBIADES,
PHRYNIA, and TIMANDRA.
Tim. That nature, being sick of man's un-
kindness,
Should yet be hungry ! Common mother, thou,
\Digging.
Whose womb unmeasurable and infinite breast
Teems and feeds all ; whose self-same mettle,
Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is
puff'd,
Engenders the black toad and adder blue,
The gilded newt and eyeless venom'd worm,
With all the abhorred births below crisp heaven
Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine ;
Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate,
From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root !
Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb,
Let it no more bring out ingrateful man !
Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and
bears ; [face
Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward
Hath to the marbled mansion all above
Never presented ! O, a root, dear thanks !
Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn
leas;
Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughts
And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind,
That from it all consideration slips !
ss/j
Enter APEMANTUS.
More man ? plague, plague !
Apem. I was directed hither : men reporr
Thou dost affect my manners, and dost use
them. [a dog
Tim. 'Tis, then, because thou dost not keep
Whom I would imitate : consumption catch thee !
Apem. This is in thee a nature but affected ;
A poor unmanly melancholy sprung
From change of fortune. Why this spade?
this place ?
This slave-like habit ? and these looks of care ?
Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft ;
Hug their diseas'd perfumes, and have forgot
That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods
By putting on the cunning of a carper.
Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive
By that which has undone thee : hinge thy knee,
And let his very breath whom thou 'It observe
Blow off thy cap ; praise his most vicious strain,
And call it excellent : thou wast told thus ;
Thou gav'st thine ears, like tapsters that bid
welcome,
To knaves and all approachers : 'tis most just
That thou turn rascal ; hadst thou wealth again
Rascals should have't. Do not assume my
likeness.
SCENE III.]
TIMON OF ATHENS.
Sn
Tim. Were I like thee, I'd throw away
myself. [like thyself ;
Apem. Thou hast cast away thyself, being
A madman so long, now a fool. What, think'st
That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain,
Will put thy shirt on warm ? Will these moss'd
trees,
That have outliv'd the eagle, page thy heels,
And skip when thou point'st out? Will the
cold brook,
Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste
To cure thy o'ernight's surfeit ? call the crea-
tures,
Whose naked natures live in all the spite
Of wreckful heaven; whose bare unhoused
trunks,
To the conflicting elements expos'd,
Answer mere nature, bid them flatter thee ;
O, thou shall find,
Tim. A fool of thee : depart.
Apem. I love thee better now than e'er I did.
Tim. I hate thee worse.
Apem. Why?
Tim. Thou flatter'st misery.
Apem. I flatter not ; but say thou art a
caitiff.
Tim. Why dost thou seek me out ?
Apem. To vex thee.
Tim. Always a villain's office or a fool's.
Dost please thyself in 't?
Apem. Ay.
Tim. What ! a knave too ?
Apem. If thou didst put this sour-cold habit
on
To castigate thy pride, 'twere well : but thou
Dost it enforcedly ; thou 'dst courtier be again
Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery
Outlives incertain pomp, is crown'd before :
The one is filling still, never complete ;
The other, at high wish : best state, contentless,
Hath a distracted and most wretched being,
Worse than the worst, content.
Thou should'st desire to die, being miserable.
Tim. Not by his breath that is more miser-
able.
Thou art a slave, whom Fortune's tender arm
With favour never clasp'd ; but bred a dog.
Hadst thou, like us from our first swath, pro-
ceeded
The sweet degrees that this brief world affords
To such as may the passive drugs of it [thyself
Freely command, thou wouldst have plung'd
In general riot ; melted down thfy youth
In different beds of lust ; and never learn'd
The icy precepts o f respect, but follow'd
The sugar'd game before thee. But myself,
Who had the world as my confectionary ;
The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts
of men
At duty, more than I could frame employment;
That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves
Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush
Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare
For every storm that blows ; I, to bear this,
That never knew but better, is some burden :
Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time
Hath made thee hard in 't, Why shouldst thou
hate men ? [given ?
They never flatter'd thee: what hast thou
If thou wilt curse, thy father, that poor rag,
Must be thy subject ; who, in spite, put stuff
To some she beggar, and compounded thee
Poor rogue hereditary. Hence ! be gone !
If thou hadst not been born the worst of men,
Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer.
Apem. Art thou proud yet ?
Tim. Ay, that I am not thee.
Apem. I, that I was
No prodigal.
Tim. I, that I am one now :
Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee,
I 'd give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone.
That the whole life of Athens were in this !
Thus would I eat it. [Eating a root.
Apem. Here ; I will mend thy feast.
[Offering 1 him something.
Tim. First mend my company, take away
thyself.
Apem. So I shall mend mine own by the lack
of thine. [botch'd ;
Tim. 'Tis not well mended so, it is but
If not, I would it were.
Apem. What wouldst thou have to Athens ?
Tim. Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou
wilt,
Tell them there I have gold ; look, so I have.
Apem. Here is no use for gold.
Tim. The best and truest :
For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm.
Apem. Where ly'st o* nights, Timon ?
Tim. Under that 's above me.
Where feed'st thou o' days, Apemantus ?
Apem. Where my stomach finds meat ; or,
rather, where I eat it.
Tim. Would poison were obedient, and knew
my mind ?
Apem. Where wouldst thou send it ?
Tim. To sauce thy dishes.
Apem. The middle of humanity thou never
knewest, but the extremity of both ends : when
thou wast in thy gilt and thy perfume they
mocked thee for too much curiosity ; in thy
rags thou knowest none, but art despised for
the contrary. There's a medlar for thee, eat it.
812
TIMON OF ATHENS.
[ACT iv.
Tim. On what I hate I feed not.
Apem. Dost hate a medlar ?
Tim. Ay, though it look like thee.
Apem. An thou hadst hated medlars sooner,
thou shouldst have loved thyself better now.
What man didst thou ever know unthrift that
was beloved after his means ?
Tim. Who \vithout those means thou talkest
of didst thou ever know beloved ?
Apem. Myself.
Tim. I understand thee; thou hadst some
means to keep a dog.
Apem. What things in the world canst thou
nearest compare to thy flatterers ?
Tim. Women nearest ; but men, men are
the things themselves. What wouldst thou do
with the world, Apemantus, if it lay in thy
power ?
Apem. Give it the beasts, to be rid of the
men.
Tim. Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the
confusion of men, and remain a beast with the
beasts ?
Apem. Ay, Timon.
Tim. A beastly ambition, which the gods
grant thee t' attain to ! If thou wert the lion,
the fox would beguile thee : if thou wert the
lamb, the fox would eat thee : if thou wert the
fox, the lion would suspect thee, when, perad-
venture, thou wert accused by the ass : if thou
wert the ass, thy dulness would torment thee ;
and still thou livedst but as a breakfast to the
wolf: if thou wert the wolf, thy greediness
would afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst hazard
thy life for thy dinner : wert thou the unicorn,
pride and wrath would confound thee, and
make thine own self the conquest of thy fury :
wert thou a bear, thou wouldst be killed by the
horse ; wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be
seized by the leopard ; wert thou a leopard,
thou wert german to the lion, and the spots of
thy kindred were jurors on thy life : all thy
safety were remotion ; and thy defence absence.
What beast couldst thou be, that were not
subject to a beast ? and what a beast art thou
already, that seest not thy loss in transformation!
Apem. If thou couldst please me with speak-
ing to me, thou might'st have hit upon it here :
the commonwealth of Athens is become a forest
of beasts.
Tim. How has the ass broke the wall, that
thou art out of the city ?
Apem. Yonder comes a poet and a painter :
the plague of company light upon thee ! I will
fear to catch it, and give way : when I know
not what else to do, I '11 see thee again.
Tim. When there is nothing living but thee,
thou shalt be welcome. I had rather be a
beggar's dog than Apemantus.
Apem. Thou art the cap of all the fools alive.
Tim. Would thou wert clean enough to spit
upon!
Apem. A plague on thee, thou art too bad
to curse.
Tim. All villains that do stand by thee are
pure.
Apem. There is no leprosy but what thou
speak'st.
Tim. If I name thee.
I '11 beat thee, but I should infect my hands.
Apem. I would my tongue could rot them off !
Tim. Away, thou issue of a mangy dog !
Choler does kill me that thou art alive ;
I swoon to see thee.
Apem. Would thou wouldst burst !
Tim. Away,
Thou tedious rogue ! I am sorry I shall lose
A stone by thee. [Throws a stone at him.
Apem. Beast !
Tim. Slave !
Apem. Toad !
Tim, Rogue, rogue, rogue !
[APEM. retreats backward, as going.
I am sick of this false world; and will love
naught
But even the mere necessities upon 't.
Ther Timon, presently prepare thy grave ;
Lie where the light foam of the sea may beat
Thy grave-stone daily : make thine epitaph,
That death in me at others' lives may laugh.
O thou sweet king-killer and dear divorce
[Looking on the gold.
'Twixt natural son and sire ! thou bright
defiler
Of Hymen's purest bed ! thou valiant Mars !
Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd and delicate
wooer,
Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow
That lies on Dian's lap ! thou visible god,
That solder'st close impossibilities,
And mak'st them kiss ! that speak'st with every
tongue
To every purpose ! O thou touch of hearts !
Think, thy slave, man, rebels; and by thy
virtue
Set them into confounding odds, that beasts
May have the world in empire !
Apem. Would 'twere so !
But not till I am dead. I '11 say thou 'st gold :
Thou wilt be throng'd to shortly.
Tim. Throng'd to?
Apem. Ay.
Tim. Thy back, I pr'ythee.
Apem. Live, and love thy misery 1
SCENE HI.]
TIMON OF ATHENS.
813
Tim. Long live so, and so die ! [Exit APK-
MANTUS.] I am quit.
More things like men? Eat, Timon, and
abhor them.
Enter Thieves.
1 Thief. Where should he have this gold?
It is some poor fragment, some slender ort of
his remainder : the mere want of gold and the
falling-from of his friends drove him into this
melancholy.
2 Thief. It is noised he hath a mass of trea-
sure.
3 Thief. Let us make the assay upon him :
if he care not for't, he will supply us easily; if
he covetously reserve it, how shall 's get it ?
2 Thief. True ; for he bears it not about him,
'tis hid.
1 Thief. Is not this he ?
Thieves. Where?
2 Thief. 'Tis his description.
3 Thief. He ; I know him.
Thieves. Save thee, Timon.
Tim. Now, thieves?
Thieves. Soldiers, not thieves.
Tim. Both too ; and women's sons.
Thieves. We are not thieves, but men that
much do want.
Tim. Your greatest want is, you want much
of meat.
Why should you want? Behold, the earth
hath roots ;
Within this mile break forth a hundred springs :
The oaks bear mast, the briars scarlet hips !
The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush
Lays her full mess before you. Want ! why
want ? [water,
I Thief. We cannot live on grass, on berries,
As beasts and birds and fishes.
Tim. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds,
and fishes ;
You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con,
That you are thieves profess'd ; that you work
not
In holier shapes : for there is boundless theft
In limited professions. Rascal thieves,
Here 's gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o' the
grape
Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth,
And so 'scape hanging : trust not the physician ;
His antidotes are poison, and he slays
More than you rob : take wealth and lives
together ;
Do villany, do, since you protest to do 't,
Like workmen. I '11 example you with thievery:
The sun 's a thief, and wilh his great attraction
Robs the vast sea : the moon 's an arrant thief,
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun :
1 he sea 's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves
The moon into salt tears : the earth 's a thief,
That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen
From general excrement : each thing 's a thief:
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough
power [away,
Have uncheck'd theft. Love not yourselves ;
Rob one another ; there 's more gold ; cut
throats ;
All that you meet are thieves. To Athens go,
Break open shops ; nothing can you steal
But thieves do lose it : steal not less for this
I give you ; and gold confound you howsoe'er !
Amen. [TiMON retires to his cave.
3 Thief. Has almost charmed me from my
profession by persuading me to it.
1 Thief. 'Tis in the malice of mankind that
he thus advises us ; not to have us thrive in
our mystery.
2 Thief. I'll believe him as an enemy, and
give over my trade.
I Thief. Let us first see peace in Athens :
there is no time so miserable but a man may be
true. {Exeunt Thieves.
Enter FLAVIUS.
Flav. O you gods !
Is yon despis'd and ruinous man my lord ?
Full of decay and failing? O monument
And wonder of good deeds evilly bestow'd !
What an alteration of honour
Has desperate want made 1
What viler thing upon the earth than friends
Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends !
How rarely does it meet with this time's guise,
When man was wish'd to love his enemies !
Grant I may ever love, and rather woo
Those that would mischief me than those that
do!
Has caught me in his eye : I will present
My honest grief unto him ; and, as my lord,
Still serve him with my life. My dearest
master !
TIMON comes forward from his cave.
Tim. Away! what art thou?
Flav. Have you forgot me, sir?
Tim. Why dost ask that ? I have forgot all
men ;
Then, if thou grant'st thou'rt a man, I have
forgot thee.
Flav. An honest poor servant of yours.
7im. Then I know thee not :
I ne'er had honest man about me, I ; all
I kept were knaves, to serve in meat to villains.
Flav. The gods are witness,
8i 4
TIMON OF ATHENS.
[ACT v.
Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief
For his undone lord than mine eyes for you.
Tim. What, dost thou weep? come nearer ;
then I love thee
Because thou art a woman, and disclaim 'st
Flinty mankind ; whose eyes do never give
But thorough lust and laughter. Pity 's sleeping :
Strange times, that weep with laughing, not
with weeping !
Flav. I beg of you to know me, good my
lord, [wealth lasts,
To accept my grief, and, whilst this poor
To entertain me as your steward still.
Tim. Had I a steward
So true, so just, and now so comfortable?
It almost turns my dangerous nature mild.
Let me behold thy face. Surely, this man
Was born of woman.
Forgive my general and exceptless rashness,
You perpetual-sober gods I I do proclaim
One honest man, mistake me not, but one;
No more, I pray, and he 's a steward.
How fain would I have hated all mankind !
And thou redeem'st thyself: but all, save thee,
I fell with curses.
Methinks thou art more honest now than wise ;
For by oppressing and betraying me
Thou might'st have sooner got another service :
For many so arrive at second masters [true,
Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me
For I must ever doubt, though ne'er so sure,
Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous,
If not a usuring kindness, and, as rich men
deal gifts,
Expecting in return twenty for one? [breast
Flav. No, my most worthy master ; in whose
Doubt and suspect, alas, are plac'd too late :
You should have fear'd false times when you
did feast :
Suspect still comes where an estate is least.
That which I show, heaven knows, is merely
love,
Duty, and zeal to your unmatched mind,
Care of your food and living ; and, believe it,
My most honour'd lord,
For any benefit that points to me,
Either in hope or present, I 'd exchange
For this one wish, that you had power and
wealth
To requite me, by making rich yourself.
Tim. Look thee, 'tis so ! Thou singly
honest man,
Here, take : the gods, out of my misery,
Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and
happy ; [men ;
But thus condition'd: thou shalt build from
Hate all, curse all ; show charity to none ;
But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone
Ere thou relieve the beggar : give to dogs
What thou deny'st to men ; let prisons swallow
'em, [blasted woods,
Debts wither 'em to nothing: be men like
And may diseases lick up their false bloods !
And so, farewell and thrive.
Flav. O, let me stay,
And comfort you, my master.
Tim. If thou hat'st curses,
Stay not ; but fly whilst thou'rt bless'd and free :
Ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee.
[Exeunt severally.
ACT V.
SCENE I. The Woods. Before TIMON'S
Cave.
Enter Poet and Painter ; TIMON watching
them from his cave.
Pain. As I took note of the place, it cannot
be far where he abides.
Poet. What 's to be thought of him ? Does
the rumour hold for true that he's so full of
gold?
Pain. Certain : Alcibiades reports it ; Phrynia
and Timandra had gold of him: he likewise
enriched poor straggling soldiers with great
quantity : 'tis said he gave unto his steward a
mighty sum
Port, Then this breaking of his has been but
a try for his friends.
Pain. Nothing else: you shall see him a
palm in Athens again, and flourish with the
highest. Therefore 'tis not amiss we tender
our loves to him, in this supposed distress of
his : it will show honestly in us ; and is very
likely to load our purposes with what they
travail for, if it be a just and true report that
goes of his having.
Poet. What have you now to present unto
him?
Pain. Nothing at this time but my visitation:
only I will promise him an excellent piece.
Poet. I must serve him so too, tell him of
an intent that 's coming toward him.
Pain. Good as the best. Promising is the
very air o' the time: it opens the eyes of
expectation : performance is ever the duller for
his act; and but in the plainer and simpler
kind of people the deed of saying is quite out
of use. To promise is most courtly and
fashionable : performance is a kind of will or
testament which argues a great sickness in his
judgment that makes it. -4^
fc.it Ti
SCENE I.]
TIMON OF ATHENS.
815
Tim. Excellent workman! thou canst not
paint a man so bad as is thyself.
Poet. I am thinking what I shall say I have
provided for him : it must be a personating of
himself: a satire against the softness of
prosperity, with a discovery of the infinite
flatteries that follow youth and opulency.
TzVw.^Must thou needs stand for a villain in
thine own work? wilt thou whip thine own
faults in other men? Do so, I have gold for
thee.
Poet. Nay. let 's seek him :
Then do we sin against our own estate
When we may profit meet and come too late.
Pain. True; [night,
'YVhen the day serves, before black-corner'd
Find what thou want'st by free and oflfer'd light.
Come. [god 's gold,
Tim. I'll meet you at the turn. What a
That he is worshipp'd in a baser temple
Than where swine feed ! [the foam :
'Tis thou that rigg'st the bark, and plouglrst
Settlest admired reverence in a slave:
To thee be worship ! and thy saints for aye
Be crown'd with plagues, that thee alone obey !
Fit I meet them. [Advancing from his cave.
Poet. Hail, worthy Timon !
Pain. Our late noble master !
Tim. Have I once liv'd to see two honest
men?
Poet. Sir,
Having often of your open bounty tasted,
Hearing you were retir'd, your friends fall'n off,
Whose thankless natures, O abhorred spirits !
Not all the whips of heaven are large enough :
What ! to you,
Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influence
To their whole being ! I 'm wrapt, and cannot
cover
The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude
With any size of words. [better :
Tim. Let it go naked, men may see 't the
You that are honest, by being what you are,
Make them best seen and known.
Pain. He and myself
Have travail'd in the great shower of your gifts,
And sweetly felt it.
Tim. Ay, you are honest men.
Pain. We are hither come to offer you our
service. [requite you?
Tim. Most honest men ! Why, how shall I
Can you eat roots, and drink cold water? no.
Both. What we can do, we '11 do, to do you
service. [have gold ;
Tim. Ye 're honest men : ye 've heard that I
I am sure you have : speak truth ; ye 're honest
men.
Pain. So it is said, my noble lord: but
therefore
Came not my friend nor I.
Tim. Good honest men ! Thou draw'st a
counterfeit
Best in all Athens : thou 'rt indeed the best ;
Thou counterfeit's! most lively.
Pain. So, so, my lord.
Tim. E'en so, sir, as I say. And, for thy
fiction, [To the Poet.
Why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and
smooth
That thou art even natural in thine art.
But for all this, my honest-natur'd friends,
I must needs say you have a little fault:
Marry, 'tis not monstrous in you ; neither wish I
You take much pains to mend.
Both. Beseech your honour
To make it known to us.
Tim. You '11 take it ill.
Both. Most thankfully, my lord.
Tim. Will you indeed?
Both. Doubt it not, worthy lord.
Tim. There 's never a one of you but trusts a
knave
That mightily deceives you.
Both. Do we, my lord?
Tim. Ay, and you hear him cog, see him
dissemble,
Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him,
Keep in your bosom : yet remain assur'd
That he 's a made-up villain.
Pain. I know not such, my lord.
Poet. Nor I.
Tim. Look you, I love you well ; I '11 give
you gold,
Rid me these villains from your companies :
Hang them or stab them, drown them in a
draught, [me,
Confound them by some course, and come to
I '11 give you gold enough.
Both. Name them, my lord ; let 's kno\f
them. [in company:
Tim. You that way, and you this,- but two
Each man apart, all single and alone,
Yet an arch-villain keeps him company.
If where thou art two villains shall not be,
[To the Painter.
Come not near him. If thou wouldst not reside
tn [Tb/fcPoet.
But where one villain is, then him abandon.
Hence ! pack ! there 's gold, ye came for gold,
ye slaves : [hence !
You have done work for me, there 's payment :
You ate an alchemist, make gold of that :-
Out, rascal dogs !
[Exit, beating and driving them eut.
8i6
TIMON OF ATHENS.
[ACTV.
Enter FLAVIUS and two Senators.
Flew. It is in vain that you would speak
with Timon;
For he is set so only to himself
That nothing but himself, which looks like man,
Is friendly with him.
1 Sen. Bring us to his cave :
It is our part and promise to the Athenians
To speak with Timon.
2 Sen. At all times alike
Men are not still the same: 'twas time and
griefs [hand,
That fram'd him thus: time, with his fairer
Offering the fortunes of his former days,
The former man may make him. Bring us to
him,
And chance it as it may.
Flav. Here is his cave.
Peace and content be here ! Lord Timon !
Timon !
Look out, and speak to friends ; the Athenians,
By two of their most reverend senate, greet thee :
Speak to them, noble Timon.
TIMON comes from his Cave.
Tim. Thou sun, that comfort'st, burn!
Speak and be hang'd :
For each true word a blister ! and each false
Be as a cauterizing to the root o' the tongue,
Consuming it with speaking !
I Sen. Worthy Timon,
Tim. Of none but such as you, and you of
Timon. [Timon.
I Sen. The senators of Athens greet thee,
Tim. I thank them ; and would send them
back the plague,
Could I but catch it for them.
1 Sen. O, forget
What we are sorry for ourselves in thee.
The senators with one consent of love
Entreat thee back to Athens ; who have thought
On special dignities, which vacant lie
For thy best use and wearing.
2 Sen. They confess
Toward thee forgetfulness too general, gross:
Which now the public body, which doth seldom
Play the recanter, feeling in itself
A lack of Timon's aid, haih sense withal
Of its own fail, restraining aid to Timon ;
And send forth us to make their sorrow'd render,
Together with a recompense more fruitful
Than their offence can weigh down by the dram;
Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealth
As shall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs,
And write in thee the figures of their love,
Ever to read them thine.
Tim. You witch me in it ;
Surprise me to the very brink of tears:
Lend me a fool's heart and a woman's eyes,
And I '11 beweepthese comforts, worthy senators.
1 Sen. Therefore so please thee to return
with us,
And of our Athens, thine and ours, to take
The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks,
Allow' d with absolute power, and thy good name
Live with authority : so soon we shall drive back
Of Alcibiades the approaches wild ;
Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up
His country's peace.
2 Sen. And shakes his threat'ning sword
Against the walls of Athens.
I Sen. Therefore, Timon,
Tim. Well, sir, I will ; therefore, I will,
sir; thus,
If Alcibiades kill my countrymen,
Let Alcibiades know this of Timon, [Athens,
That Timon cares not. But if he sack fair
And take our goodly aged men by the beards,
Giving our holy virgins to the stain
Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war;
Then let him know, and tell him Timon
speaks it,
In pity of our aged and our youth,
I cannot choose but tell him that I care not,
And let him tak't at worst; for their knives
care not,
While you have throats to answer ; for myself,
There 's not a whittle in the unruly camp
But I do prize it at my love, before [you
The reverend'st throat in Athens. So I leave
To the protection of the prosperous gods,
As thieves to keepers.
Flav. Stay not, all 's in vain.
Tim. Why, I was writing of my epitaph ;
It will be seen to-morrow : my long sickness
Of health and living now begins to mend,
And nothing brings me all things. Go, live
still ;
Be Alcibiades your plague, you his,
And last so long enough !
I Sen. We speak in vain.
Tim. But yet I love my country; and am not
One that rejoices in the common wreck,
As common bruit doth put it.
I Sen. That 's well spoke.
Tim. Commend me to my loving country-
men,
1 Sen. These words become your lipr as they
pass thorough them. [triumphers
2 Sen. And enter in our ears like great
In their applauding gates.
Tim. Commend me to them ;
And tell them that, to ease them of their griefs,
SCENE II.]
TIMON OF ATHENS.
817
Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, 1
Their pangs of love, with other incident throes
That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain
In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness
do them, [wrath.
I '11 teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades*
I Sen. I like this well ; he will return again.
Tim. I have a tree, which grows here in my
close,
That mine own use invites me to cut down,
And shortly must I fell it : tell my friends,
Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree,
From high to low throughout, that whoso please
To stop affliction, let him take his halter,
Come hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe,
And hang himself. I pray you, do my greeting.
Flav. Trouble him no further ; thus you still
shall find him. [Athens,
Tim. Come not to me again: but say to
Timon hath made his everlasting mansion
Upon the beached verge of the salt flood;
Who once a day with his embossed froth
The turbulent surge shall cover : thither come,
And let my grave-stone be your oracle.
Lips, let sour words go by and language end :
What is amiss, plague and infection mend I
Graves only be men's works and death their gain !
Sun, hide thy beams! Timon hath done his reign.
[Retires to his cave.
1 Sen. His discontents are unremovably
Coupled to nature.
2 Sen. Our hope in him is dead : let us return,
And strain what other means is left unto us
In our dear peril.
I Sen. It requires swift foot.
[Exeunt.
SCENE \\.-The Walls of Athens.
Enter two Senators and a Messenger.
1 Sen. Thou hast painfully discover'd: are
his files
As full as thy report?
Mess. I have spoke the least :
Besides, his expedition promises
Present approach. [not Timon.
2 Sen. We stand much hazard if they bring
Mess. I met a courier, one mine ancient friend;
Whom, though in general part we were oppos'd,
Yet our old love had a particular force,
And made us speak like friends : this man was
riding
From Alcibiades to Timon's cave
With letters of entreaty, which imported
His fellowship i' the cause against your city,
In part for his sake mov'd.
I Sen. Here come our brothers.
Enter Senators from TlMON.
3 Sen. No talk of Timon, nothing of him
expect.
The enemies' drum is heard, and fearful scouring
Doth choke the air with dust : in, and prepare :
Ours is the fall, I fear ; our foes the snare.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. The Woods. TIMON'S Ca
and a rude Tomb seen.
'*
oinl
Enter a Soldier seeking TIMON. _b \ti
Sold. By all description this should be the
place. [is this?
Who's here? speak, ho! No answer? What
Timon is dead, who hath outstretch'd his span:
Some beast rear'd this ; there does not live a
man. [tomb
Dead, sure ; and this his grave, what *s on this
I cannot read ; the character I '11 take with wax:
Our captain hath in every figure skill,
An ag*d interpreter, though young in daj
Before proud Athens he 's set down by tl
Whose fall the mark of his ambition is.
SCENE IV. Before the Walls of Athens.
Trumpets sound. Enter ALCIBIADES and
Forces.
Alcib. Sound to this coward and lascivious
town
Our terrible approach. [A parley sounded.
Enter Senators on the Walls.
Till now you have gone on, and fill'd the time
With all licentious measure, making your wills
The scope of justice ; till now, myself, and such
As slept within the shadow of your power,
Have wander'd with our travers'd arms, and
breath'd
Our sufferance vainly. Now the time is flush,
When crouching marrow, in the bearer strong,
Cries, of itself, No more: now breathless wrong
Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease ;
And pursy insolence shall break his wind
With fear and horrid flight.
1 Sen. Noble and young,
When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit,
Ere thou hadst power or we had cause of fear,
We sent to thee, to give thy rages balm,
To wipe out our ingratitude with loves
Above their quantity.
2 Sen. So did we woo
Transformed Timon to our city's love,
By humble message and by promis'd means :
We were not all unkind, nor all deserve
The common stroke of war.
Si8
TIMON OF ATHENS.
[ACT V.
1 Sen. These walls of ours
Were not erected by their hands from whom
You have receiv'd your griefs : nor are they such
That these great towers, trophies, and schools
should fall
For private faults in them.
2 Sen. Nor are they living
Who were the motives that you first went out ;
Shame, that they wanted cunning, in excess,
Hath broke their hearts. March, noble lord,
Into our city with thy banners spread :
By decimation and a tithed death,
If thy revenges hunger for that food [tenth ;
Which nature loathes, take thou the destin'd
And by the hazard of the spotted die
Let die the spotted.
1 Sen. All have not offended ;
For those that were, it is not square to take,
On those that are, revenges : crimes, like lands,
Are not inherited. Then, dear countryman,
Bring in thy ranks, but leave without thy rage :
Spare thy Athenian cradle, and those kin
Which, in the bluster of thy wrath, must fall
With those that have offended : like a shepherd
Approach the fold and cull the infected forth,
But kill not all together.
2 Sen. What thou wilt,
Thou rather shalt enforce it with thy smile
Than hew to 't with thy sword.
1 Sen. Set but thy foot
Against our rampir'd gates and they shall ope ;
So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before
To say thou 'It enter friendly.
2 Sen. Throw thy glove,
Or any token of thine honour else,
That thou wilt use the wars as thy redress,
And not as our confusion, all thy powers
Shall make their harbour in our town till we
Have seal'd thy full desire.
Alcib. Then there 's my glove ;
Descend, and open your uncharged ports;
Those enemies of Timon's and mine own,
Whom you yourselves shall set out for reproof,
Fall, and no more : and, to atone your fears
With my more noble meaning, not a man
Shall pass his quarter or offend the stream
Of regular justice in your city's bounds,
But shall be render'd to your public laws
At heaviest answer.
Both. 'Tis most nobly spoken.
Alcib. Descend, and keep your words.
\The Senators descend and open the gates.
Enter a Soldier.
Sol. My noble general, Timon is dead;
Entomb'd upon the very hem o' the sea;
And on his grave-stone this insculpture, which
With wax I brought away, whose soft impres-
sion
Interprets for my poor ignorance.
Alcib. [Reads.] Here lies a wretched corse, of
wretched soul bereft :
Seek not my name, a plague consume you wicked
caitiffs left!
Here lie I, Timon ; who, alive, all living men
did hate:
Pass by, and curse thy Jill; but pass, and stay
not here thy gait.
These well express in thee thy latter spirits :
Though thou abhorr'dst in us our human griefsj
Scorn'dst our brain's flow, and those our
droplets which
From niggard nature fall, yet rich conceit
Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep for aye
On thy low grave, on faults forgiven. Dead
Is noble Timon : of whose memory
Hereafter more. Bring me into your city,
And I will use the olive with my sword :
Make war breed peace ; make peace stint war ;
make each
Prescribe to other, as each other's leech.
Let our drums strike. \Exeunt.
i
rdT
oil.: i qmawoiijH ;: 11
CORIOLANUS.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS, a noble Roman.
TITUS LARTIUS, \ Generals against the Vols-
COMINIUS, / dans.
MENENIUS AGRIPPA, Friend to CORIOLANUS.
YOUNG MARCIUS, Son to CORIOLANUS.
A Roman Herald.
TULLUS AUFIDIUS, General of the Volscians
Lieutenant to AUFIDIUS.
Conspirators with AUFIDIUS.
IVfill
A Citizen of Antium.
Two Volscian Guards.
VOLUMNIA, Mother to CORIOLANUS.
VIRGILIA, Wife to CORIOLANUS.
VALERIA, Friend to VIRGILIA.
Gentlewoman attending on VIRGILIA.
Roman and Volscian Senators, Patricians,
^Ediles, Lictors, Soldiers, Citizens, Messen-
gers, Servants to AUFIDIUS, and other
Attendants.
SCENE, Partly in ROME, and partly in the Territories of the Volscians and Antiates.
ACT I.
SCENE I. ROME. A Street.
Enter a company of mutinous Citizens, with
staves, clubs t and other weapons.
I Cit. Before we proceed any further, hear
me speak.
Citizens. Speak, speak.
I Cit. You are all resolved rather to die
than to famish ?
Citizens. Resolved, resolved.
I Cit. First, you know Caius Marcius is
chief enemy to the people*
Citizens. We know 't, we know 't.
1 Cit. Let us kill him, and we '11 have corn
at our own price. Is 't a verdict ?
Citizens. No more talking on 't ; let it be
done : away, away !
2 Cit. One word, good citizens.
1 Cit. We are accounted poor citizens ; the
patricians good. What authority surfeits on
would relieve us : if they would yield us but
the superfluity, while it were wholesome, we
might guess they relieved us humanely; but
they think we are too dear : the leanness that
afflicts us, the object of our misery, is an
inventory to particularize their abundance ; our
sufferance is a gain to them. Let us revenge
this with our pikes ere we become rakes : for
the gods know I speak this in hunger for bread,
not in thirst for revenge.
2 Cit. Would you proceed especially against
Caius Marcius?
1 Cit. Against him first : he 's a very dog to
the commonalty.
2 Cit. Consider you what services he has
done for his country ?
1 Cit. Very well ; and could be content to
give him good report for't, but that he pays
himself with being proud.
2 Cit. Nay, but speak not maliciously.
1 Cit. I say unto you, what he hath done
famously he did it to that end : though soft-
conscienced men can be content to say it was
for his country, he did it to please his mother,
and to be partly proud ; which he is, even to
the altitude of his virtue.
2 Cit. What he cannot help in his nature
you account a vice in him. You must in no
way say he is covetous.
i Cit. If I must not, I need not be barren
of accusations ; he hath faults, with surplus, to
tire in repetition. [Shouts within.'} What shouts
are these ? The other side o' the city is risen :
why stay we prating here ? to the Capitol !
Citizens. Come, come.
1 Cit. Soft ! who comes here ?
2 Cit. Worthy Menenius Agrippa ; one that
hath always loved the people.
I Cit. He 's one honest enough ; would all
the rest were so !
Enter MENENIUS AGRIPPA.
Men. What work's, my countrymen, in
hand ? where go you
With bats and clubs? the matter? speak, I
pray you.
820
CORIOLANUS.
[ACT 1,"
I Cit. Our business is not unknown to the
senate ; they have had inkling this fortnight
what we intend to do, which now we '11 show
'em in deeds. They say poor suitors have
strong breaths ; they shall know we have strong
arms too.
Men. Why, masters, my good friends, mine
honest neighbours,
Will you undo yourselves ?
I Cit. We cannot, sir, we are undone already.
Men. I tell you, friends, most charitable care
Have the patricians of you. For your wants,
Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well
Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them
Against the Roman state ; whose course will on
The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs
Of more strong link asunder than can ever
Appear in your impediment : for the dearth,
The gods, not the patricians, make it ; and
Your knees to them, not arms, must help.
Alack,
You are transported by calamity [slander
Thither where more attends you; and you
The helms o' the state, who care for you Uke
fathers,
When you curse them as enemies.
I Cit. Care for us! True, indeed! They
ne'er cared for us yet. Suffer us to famish,
and their storehouses crammed with grain;
make edicts for usury, to support usurers;
repeal daily any wholesome act established
against the rich; and provide more piercing
statutes daily, to chain up and restrain the
poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will ;
and there 's all the love they bear us.
Men. Either you must
Confess yourselves wondrous malicious,
Or be accus'd of folly. I shall tell you
A pretty tale: it may be you have heard it ;
But, since it serves my purpose, I will venture
To stale 't a little more.
I Cit. Well, I '11 hear it, sir : yet you must
not think to fob-off our disgrace with a tale :
but, an 't please you, deliver.
Men. There was a time when all the body's
members
Rebell'd against the belly ; thus accus'd it:
That only like a gulf it did remain
I' the midst o' the body, idle and unactive,
Still cupboarding the viand, never l>earing
Like labour with the rest; where the other
instruments
Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel,
And, mutually participate, did minister
Unto the appetite and affection common
Of the whole body. The belly answered,
I Cit. Well, sir, what answer made the belly?
Men. Sir, I shall tell you.- With a kind of
smile, [thus,
Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even
For, look you, I may rqake the belly smile
As well as speak, it tauntingly replied
To the discontented members, the mutinous
parts
That envied his receipt ; even so most fitly
As you malign our senators for that
They are not such as you.
I Cit. Your belly's answer? What!
The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye,
The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier,
Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter,
With other muniments and petty helps
In this our fabric, if that they,
Men. What then?
'Fore me, this fellow speaks ! what then ?
what then ? [restrain'd
I Cit. Should by the cormorant belly be
Who is the sink o' the body,
Men. Well, what then?
I Cit. The former agents, if they did com-
plain,
What could the belly answer ?
Men. I will tell you ;
If you '11 bestow a small, of what you have
little,
Patience awhile, you '11 hear the belly's answer.
l Cit. You are long about it.
Men. Note me this, good friend ;
Your most grave belly was deliberate,
Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer'd :
True is it, my incorporate friends, quoth he,
That I receive the general food at first
Which you do live upon; and fit it is,
Because I am the storehouse and the shop
Of the -whole body: but, if you do remember,
I send it through the rivers of your blood,
Even to the court ', the heart, to the seat ? the
brain ;
And, through the cranks and offices of man,
The strongest nerves and small inferior veins
Front me receive that natural competency
Whereby they live: and though that all at ona
You t my good friends, this says the belly,
mark me,
I Cit. Ay, sir; well, well.
Men. Though all at once cannot
See "what I do deliver out to each,
Yet I can make my audit up, that all
From me do back receive the flour of all,
And leave me but the bran. What say you to't ?
I Cit. It was an answer : how apply you this ?
Men. The senators of Rome are this good
belly,
And you the mutinous members : for, examine
SCENE !.]
CORIOLANUS.
821
Their counsels and their cares; digest things
rightly [find,
Touching the weal o' the common ; you shall
No public benefit which you receive
But it proceeds or comes from them to you,
Andnowayfromyourselves. Whatdo you think,
You, the great toe of this assembly ?
I Cit. I the great toe ? why the great toe ?
Men. For that, being one o' the lowest,
basest, poorest,
Of this most wise rebellion, thou go'st foremost :
Thou rascal, that art worst in blood to run,
Lead'st first to win some vantage.
But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs :
Rome and her rats are at the point of battle ;
The one side must have bale.
Enter CAIUS MARCIUS.
Hail, noble Marcius !
Mar. Thanks. What 's the matter, you
dissentious rogues,
That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion,
Make yourselves scabs ?
i Cit. We have ever your good word.
Mar. He that will give good words to ye
will flatter [curs,
Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you
That like nor peace nor war ? The one affrights
you, [you
The other makes you proud. He that trusts to
Where he should find you lions finds you hares ;
Where foxes, geese : you are no surer, no,
Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,
Or hailsto ic in the sun. Your virtue is [him,
To make him worthy whose offence subdues
And curse that justice did it. Who deserves
gieatness
Deserves your hate ; and your affections are
A sick man's appetite, who desires most that
Which would increase his evil. He that depends
Upon your favours swims with fins of lead,
And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye !
Trust ye !
With every minute you do change a mind ;
And call him noble that was now your hate,
Him vile that was your garland. What 's the
matter,
That in these several places of the city
You cry against the noble senate, who,
Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else
Would feed on one another? What's their
seeking ? [they say,
Men. For corn at their own rates; whereof,
The city is well stor'd.
Mar. ^ Hang 'em! They say!
They '11 s>t by the fire and presume to know
What 's done i' the Capitol ; who 'a like to rise,
Who thrives and who declines ; side factions,
and give out
Conjectural marriages; making parties strong,
And feebling such as stand not in their liking
Below their cobbled shoes. They say there 's
grain enough!
Would the nobility lay aside their ruth
And let me use my sword, I 'd make a quarry
With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high
As I could pick my lance.
Men. Nay, these are almost thoroughly per-
suaded ;
For though abundantly they lack discretion,
Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I beseech
you,
What says the other troop?
Mar. They are dissolved : hang 'em !
They said they were an-hungry; sigh'd forth
proverbs, [eat,
That hunger broke stone walls, that dogs must
That meat was made for mouths, that the gods
sent not
Corn for the rich men only : with these shreds
They vented their complainings ; which being
answer'd,
And a petition granted them, a strange one,
To break the heart of generosity,
And make bold power look pale, they threw
their caps [moon,
As they would hang them on the horns o' the
Shouting their emulation.
Men. What is granted them?
Mar. Five tribunes, to defend their vulgar
wisdoms,
Of their own choice : one 's Junius Brutus,
Sicinius Velutus, and I know not. 'Sdeath !
The rabble should have hrst unroof'd the city
Ere so prevail'd with me : it will in time
Win upon power, and throw forth greater themes
For insurrection's arguing.
Men. This is strange.
Mar. Qo, get you home, you fragments !
Enter a Messenger, hastily*
Mess. Where 's Caius Marcius?
Mar. Here : what 's the matter ?
Mess. The news is, sir, the Volsces are in
arms. [to vent
Mar. I am glad on 't : then we shall ha' means
Our musty superfluity. See, our best elders.
Enter COMINIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, and other
Senators; JUNIUS BRUTUS and SICINIUS
VELUTUS.
i Sen. Marcius, 'tis true that you have lately
told us,
The Volsces are in arms.
822
CORIOLANUS.
[ACT i:
Mar. They have a leader,
Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to \.
I sin in envying his nobility ;
And were I anything but what I am,
I would wish me only he.
Com. You have fought together.
Mar. Were half to half the world by the ears,
and he
Upon my party, I 'd revolt, to make
Only my wars with him : he is a lion
That I am proud to hunt.
i Sen. Then, worthy Marcius,
Attend upon Cominius to these wars.
Com. It is your former promise.
Mar. Sir, it is;
And I am constant. Titus Lartius, thou
Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face.
What, art thou stiff? stand'st out?
Tit. No, Caius Marcius ;
I '11 lean upon one crutch and fight with the other
Ere stay behind this business.
Men. O, true bred !
I Sen. Your company to the Capitol ; where
I know,
Our greatest friends attend us.
Tit. Lead you on :
Follow, Cominius ; we must fellow you ;
Right worthy your priority.
Com. Noble Marcius !
I Sen. Hence to your homes ; be gone !
[To the Citizens.
Mar. Nay, let them follow :
The Volsces have much corn; take these rats
thither
To gnaw their garners. Worshipful mutineers,
Your valour puts well forth: pray, follow.
[Exeunt Senators, COM., MAR., TIT.,
and MENEN. Citizens steal away.
Sic. Was ever man so proud as is this Marcius?
Bru. He has no equal. [people,
Sic. When we were chosen tribunes for the
Bru. Mark'd you his lip and eyes?
Sic. Nay, but his taunts.
Bru. Being mov'd, he will not spare to gird
the gods.
Sic. Be-mock the modest moon.
Bru. The present wars devour him: he is
grown
Too proud to be so valiant.
Sic. Such a nature,
Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow
Which he treads on at noon : but I do wonder
His insolence can brook to be commanded
Under Cominius.
Bru. Fame, at the which he aims,
In whom already he is well grac'd, cannot
Better be held, nor more attain'd, than by
A place below the first : for what miscarries
Shall be the general's fault, though he perform
To the utmost of a man ; and giddy censure
Will then cry out of Marcius, O, if he
Had borne the business !
Sic. Besides, if things go well,
Opinion, that so sticks on Marcius, shall
Of his demerits rob Cominius.
Bru. Come :
Half all Cominius' honours are to Marcius,
Though Marcius earn'd them not ; and all his
faults
To Marcius shall be honours, though, indeed,
In aught he merit not.
Sic. Let 's hence, and hear
How the despatch is made ; and in what fashion,
More than in singularity, he goes
Upon this present action.
Bru. Let 's along.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. CORIOLI. The Senate House.
Enterlui^vs AUFIDIUS and certain Senators.
I Sen. So, your opinion is, Aufidius,
That they of Rome are enter'd in our counsels,
And know how we proceed.
Auf. Is it not yours?
What ever hath been thought on in this state,
That could be brought to bodily act ere Rome
Had circumvention ! 'Tis not four days gone
Since I heard thence ; these are the words : I
think
I have the letter here ; yes, here it is : [Reads.
They have pressed a power, but it is not known
Whether for east or west: the dearth is great ;
The people mutinous: and it is rumour 1 d>
Cominius, Marcius your old enemy,
Who is of Rome worse hated than of you,
And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman y
These three lead on this preparation
Whither *tis bent: most likely 'tis for yott:
Consider of it.
1 Sen. Our army 's in the field :
We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready
To answer us.
Auf. Nor did you think it folly
To keep your great pretences veil'd till when
They needs must show themselves; which in
the hatching,
It seem'd, appear'd to Rome. By the discovery
We shall be shorten'd in our aim ; which was,
To take in many towns ere, almost, Rome
Should know we were afoot.
2 Sen. Noble Aufidius,
Take your commission; hie you to your bands:
Let us alone to guard Corioli :
SCENE I XL]
CORIOLANUS.
823
If they set down before 's, for the remove
Bring up your army ; but I think you '11 find
They 've not prepar'd for us.
Auf. O, doubt not that ;
I speak from certainties. Nay, more,
Some parcels of their power are forth already,
And only hitherward. I leave your honours.
If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet,
'Tis sworn between us we shall ever strike
Till one can do no more.
All. The gods assist you !
Auf. And keep your honours safe !
1 Sen. Farewell.
2 Sen. Farewell.
All. Farewell. [Exeunt.
.:r::;7 .8T;.1 t O.. ,J\~6 !
SCENE III. ROME. An Apartment in
MARCIUS' House.
Enter VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA: they sit
down on two low stools and sew.
Vol. I pray you, daughter, sing, or express
yourself in a more comfortable sort : if my son
were my husband, I should freelier rejoice in
that absence wherein he won honour than in
the embracements of his bed where he would
show most love. When yet he was but tender-
bodied, and the only son of my womb ; when
youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his
way; when, for a day of king's entreaties, a
mother should not sell him an hour from her
beholding ; I, considering how honour would
become such a person; that it was no better
than picture-like to hang by the wall if renown
made it not stir, was pleased to let him seek
danger where he was like to find fame. To a
cruel war I sent him ; from whence he returned,
his brows bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter,
I sprang not more in joy at first hearing he was
a man-child than now in first seeing he had
proved himself a man.
Vir. But had he died in the business, madam ?
how then?
Vol. Then his good report should have been
my son; I therein would have found issue.
Hear me profess sincerely, had I a dozen
Sons, each in my love alike, and none less dear
than thine and my good Marcius, I had rather
had eleven die nobly for their country than one
voluptuously surfeit out of action.
Enter a Gentlewoman.
Gent. Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to
visit you. [myself.
Vir. Beseech you, give me leave to retire
Vol. Indeed you shall not.
Methinks I hear hither your husband's drum ;
See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair ;
As children from a bear, the Volsces shunning
him:
Methinks I see him stamp thus, and call thus,
Come on, you cowards! you were got in fear
Though you were born in Rome: his bloody brow
With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes,
Like to a harvest-man that 's task'd to mow
Or all, or lose his hire.
Vir. His bloody brow! O Jupiter, no blood!
Vol. Away, you fool ! it more becomes a
man
Than gilt his trophy : the breasts of Hecuba,
When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier
Than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood
At Grecian swords contending. Tell Valeria
We are fit to bid her welcome. [Exit Gent.
Vir. Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!
Vol. He '11 beat Aufidius' head below his knee,
And tread upon his neck.
Re-enter Gentlewoman, with VALERIA and
her Usher.
Val. My ladies both, good-day to you.
Vol. Sweet madam.
Vir. I am glad to see your ladyship.
Val. How do you both? you are manifest
housekeepers. What are you sewing here?
A fine spot, in good faith. How does your
little son?
Vir. I thank your ladyship: well, good madam.
Vol. He had rather see the swords and hear
a drum than look upon his schoolmaster.
Val. O' my word, the father's son: I'll
swear 'tis a very pretty boy. O' my troth, I
looked upon him o' Wednesday half an hour
together : has such a confirmed countenance.
I saw him run after a gilded butterfly; and
when he caught it he let it go again ; and after
it again ; and over and over he comes, and up
again; catched it again; or whether his fall
enraged him, or how 'twas, he did so set his
teeth and tear it ; O, I warrant, how he
mammocked it !
Vol. One on 's father's moods.
Val. Indeed, la, 'tis a noble child.
Vir. A crack, madam.
Val. Come, lay aside your stitchery ; I must
have you play the idle huswife with me this
afternoon.
Vir. No, good madam ; I will not out of doors.
Val. Not out of doors !
Vol. She shall, she shall.
Vir. Indeed, no, by your patience ; I '11 not
over the threshold till my lord return from the
wars. .Vv\l
Val. Fie, you confine yourself most un-
82 4
CORIOLANUS.
[ACT I.
reasonably; come, you must go visit the good
lady that lies in.
Vir. I will wish her speedy strength, and visit
her with my prayers ; but I cannot go thither.
Vol. Why, I pray you?
Vir. 'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want
love.
Val. You would be another Penelope: yet
they say all the yarn she spun in Ulysses'
absence did but fill Ithaca full of moths.
Come ; I would your cambric were sensible as
your finger, that you might leave pricking it
for pity. Come, you shall go with us.
Vir. No, good madam, pardon me; indeed
I will not forth.
Val. In truth, la, go with me ; and I '11 tell
you excellent news of your husband.
Vir. O, good madam, there can be none yet.
Val. Verily, I do not jest with you ; there
came news from him last night.
Vir. Indeed, madam?
Val. In earnest, it 's true ; I heard a senator
speak it. Thus it is: The Volsces have an
army forth ; against whom Cominius the general
is gone, with one part of our Roman power:
your lord and Titus Lartius are set down before
their city Corioli ; they nothing doubt prevailing,
and to make it brief wars. This is true, on
mine honour ; and so, I pray, go with us.
Vir. Give me excuse, good madam ; I will
obey you in everything hereafter.
Vol. Let her alone, lady ; as she is now, she
will but disease our better mirth.
Val. In troth, I think she would. Fare you
well, then. Come, good sweet lady. Pr'ythee,
Virgil ia, turn thy solemness out o' door, and
go along with us.
Vir. No, at a word, madam ; indeed I must
not. I wish you much mirth.
Val. Well, then, farewell. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. Before Corioli.
Enter, with drums and colours, MARCIUS,
TITUS LARTIUS, Officers, and Soldiers.
Mar. Yonder comes news: a wager they
have met.
Lart. My horse to yours, no.
Mar. 'Tis done.
Lart. Agreed.
Enter a Messenger.
Mar. Say, has our general met the enemy?
Mess. They lie in view ; but have not spoke
as yet.
Lart. So, the good horse is mine.
Mar. I '11 buy him of you.
Lart. No, I '11 nor sell nor give him : lend
you him I will
For half a hundred years. Summon the town.
Mar. How far off lie these armies?
Mess. Within this mile and half.
Mar. Then shall we hear their 'larum, and
they ours.
Now, Mars, I pr'ythee, make us quick in work,
That we with smoking swords may march from
hence [blast.
To help our fielded friends ! Come, blow thy
They sound a parley. Enter, on the Walls,
some Senators and others.
Tullus Aufidius, is he within your walls? [he,
I Sen. No, nor a man that fears you less than
That 's lesser than a little. Hark, our drums
[Drums afar off.
Are bringing forth our youth ! we '11 break our
walls,
Rather than they shall pound us up: our gates,
Which yet seem shut, we have but pinn'd with
rushes ;
They '11 open of themselves. Hark you far off !
[Alarum afar off.
There is Aufidius; list what work he makes
Amongst your cloven army.
Mar. ' O, they are at it !
Lart. Their noise be our instruction.
Ladders, ho!
The Volsces enter and pass over.
Mar. They fear us not, but issue forth their
city. [fight
Now put your shields before your hearts, and
With hearts more proof than shields. Advance,
brave Titus:
They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts,
Which makes me sweat with wrath. Come
on, my fellows :
He that retires I '11 take him for a Volsce,
And he shall feel mine edge.
Alarums^ and exeunt Romans and Volsces
fighting. The Romans are beaten back to
their trenches. Re-enter MARCIUS.
Mar. All the contagion of the south light
on you, [plagues
You shames of Rome ! you herd of Boils and
Plaster you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd
Further than seen, and one infect another
Against the wind a mile ! You souls of geese,
That bear the shapes of men, how have you
run [and hell !
From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto
All hurt behind ; backs red, and faces pale
With flight and agued fear ! Mend, and charge
home,
SCENE V.]
CORIOLANUS.
825
Or, by the fires of heaven, I '11 leave the foe
And make my wars on you : look to 't : come on ;
If you '11 standfast we'll beat them to their wives,
As they us to our trenches followed.
Another alarum. The Volsces and Romans
re-enter, and the fight is renewed. The
Volsces retire into Corioli, and MARCIUS
follows them to the gates.
So, now the gates are ope : now prove good
seconds :
'Tis for the followers fortune widens them,
Not for the fliers : mark me, and do the like.
[He enters the gates.
1 Sol. Fool -hardiness : not I.
2 Sol. Nor I.
[MARCIUS is shut in.
i Sol. See, they have shut him in.
All. To the pot, I warrant him.
[Alarum continues.
Re-enter TITUS LARTIUS.
Lart. What is become of Marcius?
All. Slain, sir, doubtless.
I Sol. Following the fliers at the very heels,
With them he enters ; who, upon the sudden,
Clapp'd-to their gates : he is himself alone,
To answer all the city.
Lart. O noble fellow !
Who, sensible, outdares his senseless sword,
And when it bows stands up ! Thou art left,
Marcius :
A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art,
Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier
Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible
Only in strokes ; but with thy grim looks and
The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds
Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the world
Were feverous and did tremble.
Re-enter MARCIUS, bleeding, assaulted by the
enemy.
i Sol. Look, sir.
Lart. O, 'tis Marcius !
Let 's fetch him off, or make remain alike.
[ They fight, and all enter the city.
SCENE V. Within CORIOLI. A Street.
Enter certain Romans, with spoils.
1 Rom. This will I carry to Rome.
2 Rom. And I this.
3 Rom. A murrain on 't ! I took this for silver.
[Alarum continues still afar off.
Enter MARCIUS and TITUS LARTIUS with a
trumpet.
Mar. See^here these movers that do prize
their hours
At a crack'd drachm ! Cushions, leaden spoons,
Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would
Bury with those that wore them, these base
slaves, [with them !
Ere yet the fight be done, pack up: down
And hark, what noise the general makes ! To
him!
There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius,
Piercing our Romans : then, valiant Titus, take
Convenient numbers to make good the city ;
Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will
haste
To help Cominius.
Lart. Worthy sir, thou bleed'st;
Thy exercise hath been too violent for
A second course of fight.
Mar. Sir, praise me not ;
My work hath yet not warm'd me: fare you
well:
The blood I drop is rather physical
Than dangerous to me : to Aufidius thus
I will appear, and fight.
Lart. Now the fair goddess, Fortune,
Fall deep in love with thee; and her great
charms [man,
Misguide thy opposers' swords ! Bold gentle-
Prosperity be thy page !
Mar. Thy friend no less
Than those she placeth highest ! So farewell.
Lart. Thou worthiest Marcius!
[Exit MARCIUS.
Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place ;
Call thither all the officers o' the town,
Where they shall know our mind : away !
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI. Near the Camp of COMINIUS.
Enter COMINIUS and Forces, retreating.
Com. Breathe you, my friends : well fought ;
we are come off
Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands
Nor cowardly in retire : believe me, sirs,
We shall be charg'd again. Whiles we have
struck,
By interims and conveying gusts we have heard
The charges of our friends. Ye Roman gods,
Lead their successes as we wish our own,
That both our powers, with smiling fronts
encountering,
May give you thankful sacrifice !
Enter a Messenger.
Thy news?
Mess. The citizens of Corioli have issued,
And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle :
I saw our party to their trenches driven,
And then I came away.
826
CORIOLANUS.
[ACT i.
Com. Though them speak'st truth,
Methinks thou speak'st not well. How long
is't since?
Mess. Above an hour, my lord.
Com. 'Tis not a mile ; briefly we heard their
drums:
How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour,
And bring thy news so late?
Mess. Spies of the Volsces
Held me in chase, that I was forc'd to wheel
Three or four miles about; else had I, sir,
Half an hour since brought my report.
Com. Who 's yonder,
That does appear as he were flay'd? O gods !
He has the stamp of Marcius ; and I have
Before-time seen him thus.
Mar. {Within.} Come I too late?
Com. The shepherd knows not thunder from
a tabor
More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue
From every meaner man.
Enter MARCIUS.
Mar. Come I too late?
Com. Ay, if you come not in the blood of
others,
But mantled in your own.
Mar, O ! let me clip you
In arms as sound as when I woo'd ; in heart
As merry as when our nuptial day was done,
And tapers burn'd to bedward !
Com. Flower of warriors,
How is't with Titus Lartius?
Mar. As with a man busied about decrees :
Condemning some to death and some to exile ;
Ransoming him or pitying, threat'ning the other;
Holding Corioli in the name of Rome,
Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash,
To let him slip at will.
Com. Where is that slave
Which told me they had beat you to your
trenches?
Where 's he? call him hither.
Mar. Let him alone ;
He did inform the truth : but for our gentlemen,
The common file, a plague! tribunes for
them ! [budge
The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat as they did
From rascals worse than they.
Com. But how prevail'd you?
Mar. Will the time serve to tell? I do not
think.
Where is the enemy? are you lords o' the field?
If not, why cease you till you are so?
Com. Marcius,
We have at disadvantage fought, and did
Retire, to win our purpose.
Mar. How lies their battle? know you on
which side
They have placed their men of trust?
Com. As I guess, Marcius,
Their bands in the vaward are the Antiates,
Of their best trust ; o'er them Aufidius,
Their very heart of hope.
Mar. I do beseech you,
By all the battles wherein we have fought,
By the blood we have shed together, by the
vows [directly
We have made to endure friends, that you
Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates ;
And that you not delay the present, but,
Filling the air with swords advanc'd and darts,
We prove this very hour.
Com. Though I could wish
You were conducted to a gentle bath,
And balms applied to you, yet dare I never
Deny your asking : take your choice of those
That best can aid your action.
Mar. Those are they
That most are willing. If any such be here,
As it were sin to doubt, that love this painting
Wherein you see me smear'd ; if any fear
Lesser his person than an ill report ;
If any think brave death outweighs bad Iife 5
And that his country 's dearer than himself;
Let him alone, or so many so minded,
Wave thus [waving his hand\ to express his
disposition,
And follow Marcius.
[They all shout, and wave their swords ; take
him up in their arms, and cast up their caps.
O, me alone ! make you a sword of me ?
If these shows be not outward, which of you
But is four Volsces ? none of you but is
Able to bear against the great Aufidius
A shield as hard as his. A certain number,
Though thanks to all, must I select from all :
the rest
Shall bear the business in some other fight,
As cause will be obey'd. Please you to march ;
And four shall quickly draw out my command,
Which men are best inclin'd.
Com. March on, my fellows:
Make good this ostentation, and you shall
Divide in all with us. [Exeunt.
SCENE VII. The Gates of Corioli.
TITUS LARTIUS, having set a guard upon
Corioli) going with drum and trumpet toward
COMINIUS andCAlUS MARCius,enters with a
Lieutenant, a party of Soldiers, and a Scout.
Lart. So, let the ports be guarded : keep
your duties
SCENE VIII.]
CORIOLANUS.
827
As I have set them down. If I do send, de-
spatch
Those centuries to our aid ; the rest will serve
For a short holding : if we lose the field
We cannot keep the town.
Lieut. Fear not our care, sir.
Lart. Hence, and shut your gates upon 's.
Our guider, come ; to the Roman camp con-
duct us. [Exeunt.
SCENE VIII. A Field of Battle between the
Roman and the Volscian Camps.
Alarum. Enter, from opposite sides, MARCIUS
Mar. I '11 fight with none but thee ; for I do
hate thee
Worse than a promise-breaker.
Auf. We hate alike :
Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor
More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot.
Mar. Let the first budger die the other's
slave,
And the gods doom him after !
Auf. Iflfly, Marcius,
Halloo me like a hare.
Mar. Within these three hours, Tullus,
Alone I fought in your Corioli walls, [blood
And made what work I pleas'd: 'tis not my
Wherein thou seest me mask'd ; for thy revenge
Wrench up thy power to the highest.
Auf. Wert thou the Hector
That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny,
Thou shouldst not scape me here.
[They fight, and certain Volsces come to
the azV/0/"AuFiDlus.
Officious, and not valiant, you have sham'd me
In your condemned seconds.
[Exeunt fighting, driven in by MAR.
SCENE IX. The Roman Camp.
Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Flourish.
Enter, at one side, COMINIUS and Romans;
at the other side, MARCIUS, -with his arm in
a scarf, and other Romans.
Com. If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's
work,
Thou 'It not believe thy deeds : but I '11 report it
Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles ;
Where great patricians shall attend, and shrug,
I' the end admire; where ladies shall be frighted,
And, gladly quak'd, hear more ; where the dull
tribunes,
That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine
honours,
Shall say, against their hearts, We thank the gods
Our Rome hath such a soldier !
Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast,
Having fully dined before.
Enter TITUS LARTIUS, with his power, from
the pursuit.
Lart. O general.
Here is the steed, we the caparison :
Hadst thou beheld,
Mar. Pray now, no more ; my mother,
Who has a charter to extol her blood, [done
When she does praise me grieves me. I have
As you have done, that 's what I can ; induc'd
As you have been, that 's for my country :
He that has but effected his good will
Hath overta'en mine act.
Com. You shall not be
The grave of your deserving ; Rome must know
The value of her own : 'twere a concealment
Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement,
To hide your doings ; and to silence that
Which, to the spire and top of praises vouch'd,
Would seem but modest : therefore, I beseech
you,
In sign of what you are, not to reward
What you have done, before our army hear me.
Mar. I have some wounds upon me, and
they smart
To hear themselves remember'd.
Com. Should they not,
Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude,
And tent themselves with death. Of all the
horses, [of all
Whereof we have ta'en good, and good store,
The treasure in this field achiev'd and city,
We render you the tenth ; to be ta'en forth
Before the common distribution at
Your only choice.
Mar. I thank you, general ;
But cannot make my heart consent to take
A bribe to pay my sword : I do refuse it ;
And stand upon my common part with those
That have beheld the doing.
[A long flourish. They all cry," Marcius !
Marcius !" cast up their, caps and lances:
COMINIUS and LARTIUS stand bare.
Mar. May these same instruments which you
profane [shall
Never sound more ! When drums and trumpets
I' the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be
Made all of false-fac'd soothing !
When steel grows soft as the parasite's silk,
Let him be made a coverture for the wars !
No more, I say ! for that I have not wash'd
My nose that bled, or foil'd some debile wretch,
Which, without note, here's many else have
done,
828
CORIOLANUS.
[ACT ii.
You shout me forth in acclamations hyper-
bolical;
As if I loved my little should be dieted
In praises sauc'd with lies.
Com. Too modest are you ;
More cruel to your good report than grateful
To us that give you truly : by your patience,
If 'gainst yourself you be incens'd, we '11 put
you, [manacles,
Like one that means his proper harm, in
Then reason safely with you. Therefore be it
known,
As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius
Wears this war's garland: in token of the
which,
My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him,
With all his trim belonging ; and from this time,
For what he did before Corioli, call him,
With all the applause and clamour of the host,
CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS.
Bear the addition nobly ever !
[Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums.
All. Caius Marcius Coriolanus !
Cor. I will go wash ;
And when my face is fair you shall perceive
Whether I blush or no : howbeit, I thank you.
I mean to stride your steed ; and at all times
To undercrest your good addition
To the fairness of my power.
Com. So, to our tent;
Where, ere we do repose us, we will write
To Rome of our success. You, Titus Lartius,
Must to Corioli back : send us to Rome
The best, with whom we may articulate,
For their own good and ours.
Lart. I shall, my lord.
Cor. The gods begin to mock me. I, that now
Refus'd most princely gifts, am bound to beg
Of my lord general.
Com. Take 't : 'tis yours. What is \ ?
Cor. I sometime lay here in Corioli
At a poor man's house ; he us'd me kindly :
He cried to me ; I saw him prisoner ;
But then Aufidius was within my view,
And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity : I request
you
To give my poor host freedom.
Com. O, well begg'd !
Were he the butcher of my son he should
Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus.
Lart. Marcius, his name?
Cor. By Jupiter, forgot :
I am weary; yea, my memory is tir'd.
Have we no wine here?
Com. Go we to our tent :
The blood upon your visage dries 5 'tis time
It should be look'd to : come. [Exeunt.
SCENE X.TAe Camp of the Volsces.
A flourish. Cornets. Enter TULLUS AUFI-
DIUS, bloody, with two or three Soldiers.
Auf. The town is ta'en ! [dition.
i Sol. 'Twill be deliver'd back on good con-
Auf. Condition!
I would I were a Roman ; for I cannot,
Being a Volsce, be that I am. Condition!
What good condition can a treaty find
P the part that is at mercy? Five times,
Marcius, [beat me ;
I have fought with thee; so often hast thou
And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter
As often as we eat. By the elements,
If e'er again I meet him beard to beard,
He 's mine or I am his : mine emulation
Hath not that honour in 't it had ; for where
I thought to crush him in an equal force,
True sword to sword, I '11 potch at him some
way,
Or wrath or craft may get him.
i Sol. He 's the devil.
Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle. My
valour 's poisoned
With only suffering stain by him ; for him
Shall fly out of itself : nor sleep nor sanctuary,
Being naked, sick ; nor fane nor Capitol,
The prayers of priests nor times of sacrifice,
Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up
Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst
My hate to Marcius : where I find him, were it
At home, upon my brother's guard, even there,
Against the hospitable canon, would I
Wash my fierce hand in 's heart. Go you to
the city; [must
Learn how 'tis held ; and what they are that
Be hostages for Rome.
I Sol. Will not you go ?
Auf. I am attended at the cypress grove :
I pray you, [thither
'Tis south the city mills, bring me word
How the world goes, that to the pace of it
I may spur on my journey.
I Sol. I shall, sir. [Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCENE I. ROME. A public Place.
Enter MENENIUS, SICINIUS, and BRUTUS.
Men. The augurer tells me we shall have
news to night.
Bru. Good or bad ?
Men. Not according to the prayer of the
people, for they love not Marcius.
SCENE I.j
CORIOLANUS.
820
Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their
friends.
Men. Pray you, who does the wolf love ?
Sic. The lamb.
Men. Ay, to devour him ; as the hungry
plebeians would the noble Marcius.
Bru. He 's a lamb indeed, that baas like a
bear.
Men. He 's a bear indeed, that lives like a
lamb. You two are old men : tell me one
thing that I shall ask you.
Both Trib. Well, sir.
Men. In what enormity is Marcius poor in,
that you two have not in abundance?
Brit. He 's poor in no one fault, but stored
with all.
Sic. Especially in pride.
Bru. And topping all others in boasting.
Men. This is strange now : do you two know
how you are censured here in the city, I mean
of us o' the right-hand file? Do you?
Both Trib. Why, how are we censured?
Men. Because you talk of pride now, will
you not be angry?
Both Trib. Well, well, sir, well.
Men. Why, 'tis no great matter ; for a very
little thief of occasion will rob you of a great
deal of patience: give your dispositions the
reins, and be angry at your pleasures; at the
least, if you take it as a pleasure to you in
being so. You blame Marcius for being proud?
Bru. We do it not alone, sir.
Men. I know you can do very little alone ;
for your helps are many, or else your actions
would grow wondrous single: your abilities
are too infant-like for doing much alone. You
talk of pride : O that you could turn you eyes
toward the napes of your necks, and make but
an interior survey of your good selves ! O that
you could !
Bru. What then, sir ?
Men. Why, then you should discover a brace
ofunmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates,
alias, fools, as any in Rome.
Sic. Menenius, you are known well enough
too.
Men. I am known to be a humorous patrician,
and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not
a drop of allaying Tiber in 't : said to be some-
thing imperfect in favouring the first complaint,
hasty and tinder-like upon too trivial motion ;
one that converses more with the buttock of
the night than with the forehead of the morning.
What I think I utter, and spend my malice in
tny breath. Meeting two such wealsmen as
you are, I cannot call you Lycurguses, if
the drink you give me touch my palate adversely,
I make a crooked face at it. I cannot say your
worships have delivered the matter well when
I find the ass in compound with the major part
of your syllables ; and though I must be content
to bear with those that say you are reverend
grave men, yet they lie deadly that tell you
have good faces. If you see this in the map
of my microcosm, follows it that I am known
well enough too ? What harm can your bisson
conspectuities glean out of this character, if I
be known well enough too ?
Bru. Come, sir, come, we know you well
enough.
Men. You know neither me, yourselves, nor
anything. You are ambitious for poor knaves'
caps and legs : you wear out a good wholesome
forenoon in hearing a cause between an orange-
wife and a fosset-seller ; and then rejourn the
controversy of threepence to a second day of
audience. When you are hearing a matter
between party and party, if you chance to be
pinched with the colic, you make faces like
mummers; set up the bloody flag against all
patience; and, in roaring for a chamber-pot,
dismiss the controversy bleeding, the more
entangled by your hearing : all the peace you
make in their cause is calling both the parties
knaves. You are a pair of strange ones.
Bru. Come, come, you are well understood
to be a perfecter giber for the table than a
necessary bencher in the Capitol.
Men, Our very priests must become mockers
if they shall encounter such ridiculous subjects
as you are. When you speak best unto the
purpose it is not worth the wagging of your
beards ; and your beards deserve not so honour-
able a grave as to stuff a botcher's cushion or
to be entombed in an ass's pack-saddle. Yet
you must be saying, Marcius is proud; who,
in a cheap estimation, is worth all your pre-
decessors since Deucalion ; though peradventure
some of the best of them were hereditary hang-
men. God-den to your worships : more of your
conversation would infect my brain, being the
herdsmen of the beastly plebeians: I will be
bold to take my leave of you.
CBRUTUS and SICINIUS retire.
Enter VoLUMNlA, VIRGILIA, VALERIA, &c.
How now, my as fair as noble ladies, and the
moon, were she earthly, no nobler, whither
do you follow your eyes so fast ?
Vol. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius
approaches ; for the love of Juno let 's go.
Men. Ha ! Marcius coming home !
Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most
prosperous approbation.
8 3 o
CORIOLANUS.
[ACT II.
Men. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee.
Hop ! Marcius coming home !
Vol. Vir. Nay, 'tis true.
Vol. Look, here's a letter from him: the
state hath another, his wife another; and I
think there 's one at home for you.
Men. I will make my very house reel to-
night. A letter frr me?
Vir. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you;
I saw it.
Men. A letter for me ! It gives me an estate
of seven years' health; in which time I will
make a lip at the physician : the most sovereign
prescription in Galen is but empiricutic, and,
to this preservative, of no better report than a
horse-drench. Is he not wounded? he was
wont to come home wounded.
Vir. O, no, no, no.
Vol. O, he is wounded, I thank the gods for't.
Men. So do I too, if it be not too much.
Brings a victory in his pocket ? The wounds
become him.
Vol. On's brows: Menenius, he comes the
third time home with the oaken garland.
Men. Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly ?
Vol. Titus Lartius writes, they fought to-
gether, but Aufidius got off.
Men. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant
him that : an he had stayed by him, I would
not have been so fidiused for all the chests in
Corioli, and the gold that's in them. Is the
senate possessed of this ?
Vol. Good ladies, let's go. Yes, yes, yes;
ihe senate has letters from the general, wherein
he gives my son the whole name of the war :
he hath in this action outdone his former deeds
doubly.
Val. In troth, there 's wondrous things spoke
of him.
Men. Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and
not without his true purchasing.
Vir. The gods grant them true !
Vol. True ! pow, wow.
Men. True ! I '11 be sworn they are true.
Where is he wounded ? [To the Tribunes, who
come forward.] God save your good worships !
Marcius is coming home: he has more cause
to be proud. Where is he wounded ?
Vol. F the shoulder and i' the left arm:
there will be large cicatrices to show the people
when he shall stand for his place. He received
in the repulse of Tarquin seven hurts i' the
body.
Men. One i' the neck and two i' the thigh,
there 's nine that I know.
Vol. He had, before this last expedition,
twenty-five wounds upon him,
Men. Now it's twenty-seven: every gash
was an enemy's grave. [A shout and flourish.}
Hark ! the trumpets.
Vol. These are the ushers of Marcius : before
him ^ [tears;
He carries noise, and behind him he leaves
Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth
lie ; [die.
Which, being advanc'd, declines, and then men
A sennet. Trumpets sotmd. Enter COMINIUS
and TITUS LARTIUS; between them, CORIO-
LANUS, crowned with an oaken garland ;
with Captains, Soldiers, and a Herald.
Her. Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius
did fight
Within Corioli gates : where he hath won,
With fame, a name to Caius Marcius ; these
In honour follows Coriolanus :
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus !
[Flourish.
All. Welcome to Rome, renowned Corio-
lanus ! [heart ;
Cor. No more of this, it does offend my
Pray now, no more.
Com. Look, sir, your mother !
Cor. O,
You have, I know, petition'd all the gods (
For my prosperity I [Kneels.
Vol. Nay, my good soldier, up;
My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and
By deed-achieving honour newly nam'd,
What is it ? Coriolanus must I call thee ?
But, O, thy wife !
Cor. My gracious silence, hail !
Wouldst thou have laugh'd had I come coffin'd
home,
That weep'st to see me triumph ? Ah, my dear,
Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear,
And mothers that lack sons.
Men. Now the gods crown thee !
Cor. And live you yet ? O my sweet lady,
pardon. \To VALERIA.
Vol. I know not where to turn. O, welcome
home ; [all.
And welcome, general ; and you are welcome
Men. A hundred thousand welcomes. I
could weep [Welcome :
And I could laugh; I am light and heavy.
A curse begin at very root on 's heart
That is not glad to see thee ! You are three
That Rome should dote on : yet, by the faith
of men, [will not
We have some old crab trees here at home that
Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors;
We call a nettle but a nettle ; and
The faults of fools but folly.
SCENE I.J
CORIOLANUS.
831
Com. Ever right
Cor. Menenius ever, ever.
Her. Give way there, and go on !
Cor. Your hand, and yours :
L To his wife and mother.
Ere in our own house I do shade my head,
The good patricians must be visited ;
From whom I have receiv'd not only greetings,
But with them change of honours.
Vol. I have lived
To see inherited my very wishes,
And the buildings of my fancy: only [but
There 's one thing wanting, which I doubt not
Our Rome will cast upon thee.
Cor. Know, good mother,
I had rather be their servant in my way
Than sway with them in theirs.
Com. On, to the Capitol.
\_Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as
before. The Tribunes remain.
Bru. All tongues speak of him, and the
bleared sights
Are spectacled to see him : your prattling nurse
Into a rapture lets her baby cry
While she chats him : the kitchen malkin pins
Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck,
Clambering the walls to eye him : stalls, bulks,
windows,
Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges hors'd
With variable complexions; all agreeing
In earnestness to see him : seld-shown flamens
Do press among the popular throngs, and puff
To win a vulgar station : our veil'd dames
Commit the war of white and damask, in
Their nicely gawded cheeks, to the wanton spoil
Of Phoebus' burning kisses : such a pother,
As if that whatsoever god who leads him
Were slily crept into his human powers,
And gave him graceful posture.
Sic. On the sudden,
I warrant him consul.
Bru. Then our office may,
During his power, go sleep. [honours
Sic. He cannot temperately transport his
From where he should begin and end ; but will
Lose those that he hath won.
Bru. In that there 's comfort.
Sic. Doubt not the commoners, for whom we
stand,
But they, upon their ancient malice, will forget,
With the least cause, these his ne whonours; which
That he '11 give them make as little question
As he is proud to do 't.
Bru. I heard him swear,
Were he to stand for consul, never would he
Appear i' the market-place, nor on him put
The napless vesture of humility ;
Nor, showing, as the manner is, his wounds
To the people, beg their stinking breaths.
Sic. 'Tis right.
Bru. It was his word: O, he would miss it
rather [him,
Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to
And the desire of the nobles.
Sic. I wish no better
Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it
In execution.
Bru. 'Tis most like he will.
Sic. It shall be to him then, as our good wills,
A sure destruction.
Bru. So it must fall out
To him or our authorities. For an end,
We must suggest the people in what hatred
He still hath held them; that to's power he
would [and
Have made them mules, silenc'd their pleaders,
Dispropertied their freedoms : holding them,
In human action and capacity,
Of no more soul nor fitness for the world
Than camels in their war ; who have their pro-
vand
Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows
For sinking under them.
Sic. This, as you say, suggested
At some time when his soaring insolence
Shall touch the people, which time shall not
want,
If it be put upon 't ; and that 's as easy
As to set dogs on sheep, will be his fire
To kindle their dry stubble ; and their blaze
Shall darken him for ever.
Enter a Messenger.
Bru. What 's the matter ?
Mess. You are sent for to the Capitol. 'Tis
thought
That Marcius shall be consul : [and
I have seen the dumb men throng to see him,
The blind to hear him speak : matrons flung
gloves,
Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchers,
Upon him as he pass'd : the nobles bended
As to Jove's statue ; and the commons made
A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts:
I never saw the like.
Bru. Let 's to the Capitol ;
And carry with us ears and eyes for the time,
But hearts for the event.
Sic. Have with you. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. ROME. The Capitol.
Enter two Officers, to lay czishions.
i Off. Come, come; they are almost here.
How many stand for consulships ?
CORIOLANUS.
[ACT H.
2 Off. Three, they say: but 'tis thought of
every one Coriolanus will carry it.
1 Off. That's a brave fellow; but he's
vengeance proud, and loves not the common
people.
2 Off. Faith, there have been many great
men that have flattered the people, who ne'er
loved them ; and there be many that they have
loved, they know not wherefore: so that, if
they love they know not why, they hate upon
no better a ground : therefore, for Coriolanus
neither to care whether they love or hate him
manifests the true knowledge he has in their
disposition ; and, out of his noble carelessness,
lets them plainly see 't.
1 Off. If he did not care whether he had
their love or no, he waved indifferently 'twixt
doing them neither good nor harm; but he
seeks their hate with greater devotion than they
can render it him ; and leaves nothing undone
that may fully discover him their opposite.
Now, to seem to affect the malice and dis-
pleasure of the people is as bad as that which
he dislikes, to flatter them for their love.
2 Off. He hath deserved worthily of his
country: and his ascent is not by such easy
degrees as those who, having been supple and
courteous to the people, bonnetted, without any
further deed to have them at all into their esti-
mation and report : but he hath so planted his
honours in their eyes, and his actions in their
hearts, that for their tongues to be silent, and
not confess so much, were a kind of ingrateful
injury ; to report otherwise were a malice that,
giving itself the lie, would pluck reproof and
rebuke from every ear that heard it.
I Off. No more of him ; he is a worthy man :
make way, they are coming.
A Sennet. Enter, with Lictors before them,
COMINIUS the Consul, MENENIUS, CORIO-
LANUS, Senators, SICINIUS, and BRUTUS.
The Senators take their places ; the Tribunes
take theirs also by themselves.
Men. Having determin'd of the Volsces, and
To send for Titus Lartius, it remains,
As the main point of this our after-meeting,
To gratify his noble service that
Hath thus stood for his country: therefore
please you,
Most reverend and grave elders, to desire
The present consul, and last general
In our well-found successes, to report
A little of that worthy work perform'd
By Caius Marcius Coriolanus ; whom
We meet here, both to thank and to remember
With honours like himself.
I Sen. Speak, good Cominius:
Leave nothing out for length, and make us
think
Rather our state 's defective for requital
Than we to stretch it out. Masters o' the
people,
We do request your kindest ears ; and, after,
Your loving motion toward the common body,
To yield what passes here.
Sic. We are convented
Upon a pleasing treaty ; and have hearts
Inclinable to honour and advance
The theme of our assembly.
Bru. Which the rather
We shall be bless'd to do, if he remember
A kinder value of the people than
He hath hereto priz'd them at.
Men. That 's off, that 's off ;
I would you rather had been silent. Please
you
To hear Cominius speak ?
Bru. Most willingly :
But yet my caution was more psrtinent
Than the rebuke you give it.
Men. He Iov2s your people ;
But tie him not to be their bedtellow.
Worthy Cominius, speak.
[CORIOLANUS rises, and offers to go away.
Nay, keep your place.
I Sen. Sit, Coriolanus ; never shame to hear
What you have nobly done.
Cor. Your honours' pardon :
I had rather have my wounds to heal again
Than hear say how I got them.
Bru. Sir, I hope
My words disbench'd you not.
Cor. No, sir ; yet oft,
When blows have made me stay, I fled from
words. [people,
You sooth'd not, therefore hurt not : but your
I love them as they weigh.
Men. Pray now, sit down.
Cor. I had rather have one scratch my head
i' the sun
When the alarum were struck, than idly sit
To hear my nothings monster' d. \_Exit.
Men. Masters o' the people,
Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter,
That 's thousand to one good one, when you
now see
He had rather venture all his limbs for honour
Than one on's ears to hear it? Proceed,
Cominius. [lanus
Com. I shall lack voice : the deeds of Corio-
Should not be utterM feebly. It is held
That valour is the chiefest virtue, and
Most dignifies the haver : if it be,.
SCENE II.]
CORIOLANUS.
833
The man I speak of cannot in the world
Be singly counterpois'd. At sixteen years,
When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought
Beyond the mark of others : our then dictator,
Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight,
When with his Amazonian chin he drove
The bristled lips before him : he bestrid
An o'erpress'd Roman, and i' the consul's view
Slew three opposers : Tarquin's self he met,
And struck him on his knee : in that day's feats,
When he might act the woman in the scene,
He prov'd best man i' the field, and for his meed
Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age
Man-enter'd thus, he waxed like a sea;
And in the brunt of seventeen battles since
He lurch'd all swords of the garland. For this
last,
Before and in Corioli, let me say,
I cannot speak him home : he stopp'd the fliers ;
And by his rare example made the coward
Turn terror into sport : as weeds before
A vessel under sail, so men obey'd,
And fell below his stem: his sword, death's
stamp, 7 , ',
Where it did mark, it took ; from face to foot
He was a thing of blood, whose every motion
Was timed with dying cries : alone he enter'd
The mortal gate of the city, which he painted
With shunless destiny ; aidless came off,
And with a sudden re-enforcement struck
Corioli like a planet. Now all 's his :
When, by and by, the din of war 'gan pierce
His ready sense; then straight his doubled spirit
Re-quicken'd what in flesh was fatigate,
And to the battle came he ; where he did
Run reeking o'er the lives of men as if
'Twere a perpetual spoil : and till we call'd
Both field and city ours he never stood
To ease his breast with panting.
Men. Worthy man !
i Sen. He cannot but with measure fit the
honours
Which we devise him.
Com. Our spoils he kick'd at ;
And look'd upon things precious as they were
The common muck of the world : he covets less
Than misery itself would give ; rewards
His deeds with doing them ; and is content
To spend the time to end it.
Men. He 's right noble :
Let him be call'd for.
i Sen. Call Coriolanus.
Off. He doth appear.
Re-enter CORIOLANUS.^
Men. The senate, Coriolanus, are well pleas'd
To make thee consul.
Cor. I do owe them still
My life and services.
Men. It then remains
That you do speak to the people.
Cor. I do beseech you
Let me o'erleap that custom ; for I cannot
Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat them,
For my wounds' sake, to give their suffrage :
please you
That I may pass this doing.
Sic. Sir, the people
Must have their voices ; neither will they bate
One jot of ceremony.
Men. Put them not to 't :
Pray you, go fit you to the custom ; and
Take to you, as your predecessors have,
Your honour with your form.
Cor. It is a part
That I shall blush in acting, and might well
Be taken from the people.
Bru. Mark you that ?
Cor. To brag unto them, thus I did, and
thus ; [hide
Show them the unaching scars which I should
As if I had receiv'd them for the hire
Of their breath only!
Men. Do not stand upon 't.
We recommend to you, tribunes of the people,
Our purpose to them ; and to our noble consul
Wish we all joy and honour.
Sen. To Coriolanus come all joy and honour !
{Flourish. Exeunt all but Sic.
and BRU.
Bru. You see how he intends to use the
people.
Sic. May they perceive 's intent! He will
requite them
As if he did contemn what he requested
Should be in them to give.
Bru. Come, we '11 inform them
Of our proceedings here : on the market-place
I know they do attend us. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. ROME. The Forum.
Enter several Citizens.
1 Cit. Once, if he do require our voices, we
ought not to deny him.
2 Cit. We may, sir, if we will.
3 Cit. We have power in ourselves to do it,
but it is a power that we have no power to do:
for if he show us his wounds and tell us his
deeds, we are to put our tongues into those
wounds, and speak for them ; so, if he tell us
his noble deeds, we must also tell him our
noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is mon-
strous : and for the multitude to be ingrateful,
834
CORIOLANUS.
[ACT ii. ^
were to make a monster of the multitude ; of
the which we, being members, should bring
ourselves to be monstrous members.
1 Cit. And to make us no better thought of,
a little help will serve ; for once we stood up
about the corn, he himself stuck not to call us
the many-headed multitude.
3 Cit. We have been called so of many ; not
that our heads are some brown, some black,
some auburn, some bald, but that our wits are
so diversely coloured; and truly I think, if all
our wits were to issue out of one skull, they
would fly east, west, north, south; and their
consent of one direct way should be at once to
all the points o' the compass.
2 Cit. Think you so? Which way do you
judge my wit would fly ?
3 Cit. Nay, your wit will not so soon out as
another man's will, 'tis strongly wedged up in
a block-head ; but if it were at liberty, 'twould,
sure, southward.
2 Cit. Why that way?
3 Cit. To lose itself in a fog ; where being
three parts melted away with rotten dews, the
fourth would return, for conscience' sake, to
help to get thee a wife.
2 Cit. You are never without your tricks :
you may, you may.
3 Cit. Are you all resolved to give your
voices ? But that 's no matter, the greater part
carries it. I say, if he would incline to the
people, there was never a worthier man. Here
he comes, and in the gown of humility : mark
his behaviour. We are not to stay altogether,
but to come by him where he stands, by ones,
by twos, and by threes. He's to make his
requests by particulars ; wherein every one of us
has a single honour, in giving him our own voices
with our own tongues : therefore follow me, and
I '11 direct you how you shall go by him.
All. Content, content. {Exeunt.
Enter CORIOLANUS and MENENIUS.
Men. O sir, you are not right ; have you not
known
The worthiest men have done 't !
Cor. What must I say?
1 pray ', sir, Plague upon 't ! I cannot bring
My tongue to such a pace. Look, sir; my
wounds;
1 got them in my country's service, when
Some certain of your brethren roared, and ran
From the noise of our own drums.
Men. O me, the gods !
You must not speak of that : you must desire
them
To think upon you.
Cor. Think upon me ! hang 'em!
I would they would forget me, like the virtues
Which our divines lose by 'em.
Men. You '11 mar all :
I '11 leave you. Pray you, speak to 'em, I pray
you,
In wholesome manner.
Cor. Bid them wash their faces
And keep their teeth clean. {Exit MENENIUS.
So, here comes a brace :
Re-enter two Citizens.
You know the cause, sirs, of my standing here.
1 Cit. We do, sir ; tell us what hath brought
you to 't.
Cor. Mine own desert
2 Cit. Your own desert !
Cor. Ay, not mine own desire.
I Cit. How ! not your own desire !
Cor. No, sir, 'twas never my desire yet to
trouble the poor with begging.
I Cit. You must think, if we give you any-
thing, we hope to gain by you.
Cor. Well then, I pray, your price o' the
consulship ?
1 Cit. The price is to ask it kindly.
Cor. Kindly ! sir, I pray, let me ha 't : I
have wounds to show you, which shall be
yours in private. Your good voice, sir; what
say you ?
2 Cit. You shall ha' it, worthy sir.
Cor. A match, sir. There is in all two
worthy voices begg'd. I have your alms: adieu.
1 Cit. But this is something odd.
2 Cit. An 'twere to give again, but 'tis no
matter. [Exeunt two Citizens.
Re-enter oilier two Citizens.
Cor. Pray you now, if it may stand with the
tune of your voices that I may be consul, I
have here the customary govvn.
3 Cit. You have deserved nobly of your
country, and you have not deserved nobly.
Cor. Your enigma?
3 Cit. You have been a scourge to her
enemies, you have been a rod to her friends;
you have not, indeed, loved the common
people.
Cor. You should account me the more
virtuous, that I have not been common in my
love. I will, sir, flatter my sworn brother,
the people, to earn a dearer estimation of them ;
'tis a condition they account gentle : and since
the wisdom of their choice is rather to have my
hat than my heart, I will practise the insinuat-
ing nod, and be off to them most counterfeitly ;
that is, sir, I will counterfeit the bewitchment
of some popular man, and give it bountifully
SCENE III.]
CORIOLANUS.
835
to the desirers. Therefore, beseech you, I
may be consul.
4 Cit. We hope to find you our friend ; and
therefore give you our voices heartily.
3 Cit. You have received many wounds for
your country.
Cor. I will not seal your knowledge with
showing them. I will make much of your
voices, and so trouble you no further.
Both Cit. The gods give you joy, sir, heartily!
[Exeunt.
Cor. Most sweet voices !
Better it is to die, better to starve,
Than crave the hire which first we do deserve.
Why in this wolfish toge should I stand here,
To beg of Hob and Dick, that do appear,
Their needless vouches? Custom calls me to't:
What custom wills, in all things should we do 't,
The dust on antique time would lie unswept,
And mountainous error be too highly heap'd
For truth to o'erpeer. Rather than fool it so,
Let the high office and the honour go
To one that would do thus. I am half through ;
The one part suffer'd, the other will I do.
Here come more voices.
Re-enter other three Citizens.
Your voices : for your voices I have fought ;
Watch'd for your voices ; for your voices bear
Of wounds two dozen odd ; battles thrice six
I have seen and heard of ; for your voices have
Done many things, some less, some more : your
voices :
Indeed, I would be consul.
5 Cit. He has done nobly, and cannot go
without any honest man's voice.
6 Cit. Therefore let him be consul : the gods
give him joy, and make him good friend to the
people !
All 3 Citizens. Amen, amen. God save
thee, noble consul ! [Exeunt.
Cor. Worthy voices !
Re-inter MENENIUS, with BRUTUS and
SICINIUS.
Men. You have stood your limitation; and
the tribunes
Endue you with the people's voice : remains
That, in the official marks invested, you
Anon do meet the senate.
Cor. Is this done ?
Sic. The custom of request you have dis-
charg'd :
The people do admit you ; and are summoned
To meet anon, upon your approbation.
Cor. Where? at the senate-house?
Sic. There, Coriolanus.
Cor. May I change these garments ?
Sic. You may, sir.
Cor. That I'll straight do; and, knowing
myself again,
Repair to the senate -house. [along ?
Men. I'll keep you company. Will you
Bru. We stay here for the people.
Sic. Fare you well.
[Exeunt COR. and MEN.
He has it now ; and by his looks methinks
'Tis warm at his heart. [weeds.
Bru. With a proud heart he wore his humble
Will you dismiss the people ?
Re-enter Citizens.
Sic. How now, my masters ! have you chose
this man ?
1 Cit. He has our voices, sir. [loves.
Bru. We pray the gods he may deserve your
2 Cit. Amen, sir : to my poor unworthy
notice,
He mocked us when he begg'd our voices.
3 Cit. Certainly,
He flouted us downright.
1 Cit. No, 'tis his kind of speech, he did
not mock us.
2 Cit. Not one amongst us, save yourself,
but says
He us'd us scornfully: he should have show'd us
His marks of merit, wounds receiv'd for's
country.
Sic. Why, so he did, I am sure.
Citizens. No, no ; no man saw 'em.
3 Cit. He said he had wounds, which he
could show in private ;
And with his hat, thus waving it in scorn,
/ would be consul, says he ; aged custom,
But by your voices, will not so permit me ;
Your voices therefore : when we granted that,
Here was, I thank you for your voices, thank
you,
Your most sweet voices: now you have left
your voices
I have no further with you: was not this
mockery ?
Sic. Why, either were you ignorant to see ; t?
Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness
To yield your voices ?
Brtt. Could you not have told him,
As you were lesson'd, when he had no power,
But was a petty servant to the state,
He was your enemy ; ever spake against
Your liberties, and the charters that you bear
I' the body of the weal : and now, arriving
A place of potency and sway o' the state,
If he should still malignantly remain
Fast foe to the plebeii, your voices might
Be curses to yourselves ? You should have said,
836
CORIOLANUS.
[ACT III.
That as his worthy deeds did claim no less
Than what he stood for, so his gracious nature
Would think upon you for your voices, and
Translate his malice towards you into love,
Standing your friendly lord.
Sic. Thus to have said,
As you were fore-advis'd, had touch'd his spirit
And tried his inclination ; from him pluck'd
Either his gracious promise, which you might,
As cause had call'd you up, have held him to ;
Or else it would have gall'd his surly nature,
Which easily endures not article
Tying him to aught ; so, putting him to rage,
You should have ta'en the advantage of his
choler,
And pass'd him unelected.
Bru. Did you perceive
He did solicit you in free contempt
When he did need your loves ; and do you think
That his contempt shall not be bruising to you
When he hath power to crush? Why, had
your bodies [cry
No heart among you? Or had you tongues to
Against the rectorship of judgment ?
Sic. Have you
Ere now denied the asker ? and now again,
On him that did not ask but mock, bestow
Your su'd-for tongues ? [him yet.
3 Cit. He's not confirm'd; we may deny
2 Cit. And will deny him :
I '11 have five hundred voices of that sound.
I Cit. I twice five hundred, and their friends
to piece 'em. [friends
Bru. Get you hence instantly; and tell those
They have chose a consul that will from them
take
Their liberties ; make them of no more voice
Than dogs, that are as often beat for barking
As therefore kept to do so.
Sic. Let them assemble ;
And, on a safer judgment, all revoke
Your ignorant election : enforce his pride
And his old hate unto you : besides, forget not
With what contempt he wore the humble weed ;
How in his suit he scorn'd you : but your loves,
Thinking upon his services, took from you
The apprehension of his present portance,
Which, most gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion
After the inveterate hate he bears you.
Bru. Lay
A fault on us, your tribunes ; that we labour'd,
No impediment between, but that you must
Cast your election on him.
Sic. Say you chose him
More after our commandment than as guided
By your own true affections; and that your
minds,
Pre-occupied with what you rather must do
Than what you should, made you against the
grain
To voice him consul. Lay the fault on us.
Bru. Ay, spare us not. Say we read lectures
to you,
How youngly he began to serve his country,
How long continued : and what stock he springs
of [came
The noble house o' the Marcians ; from whence
That Ancus Marcius, Numa's daughter's son,
Who, after great Hostilius, here was king ;
Of the same house Publius and Quintus were,
That our best water brought by conduits
hither ;
And Censorinus, darling of the people,
And nobly nam'd so, twice being censor,
Was his great ancestor.
Sic. One thus descended,
That hath beside well in his person wrought
To be set high in place, we did commend
To your remembrances : but you have found,
Scaling his present bearing with his past,
That he 's your fixed enemy, and revoke
Your sudden approbation.
Bru. Say you ne'er had done 't,
Harp on that still, but by our putting on:
And presently when you have drawn your
number,
Rep to the Capitol.
Citizens. We will so ; almost all
Repent in their election. {Exeunt.
Bru. Let them go on ;
This mutiny were better put in hazard
Than stay, past doubt, for greater:
If, as his nature is, he fall in rage
With their refusal, both observe and answer
The vantage of his anger.
Sic. To the Capitol,
Come: we will be there before the stream o*
the people ;
And this shall seem, as partly 'tis, their own,
Which we have goaded onward. [Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I. ROME. A Street.
Cornets. Enter CORIOLANUS, MENENIUS,
COMINUS, TITUS LARTIUS, Senators, and
Patricians.
Cor. Tullus Aufidius, then, had made new
head ? [caus'd
Lart. He had, my lord ; and that it was which
Our swifter composition.
Cor. So then the Volsces stand but as at first;
SCENE "l.
CORIOLANUS.
Ready, when time shall prompt them, to make
road
Upon 's again.
Com. They are worn, lord consul, so
That we shall hardly in our ages see
Their banners wave again.
Cor. Saw you Aufidius ?
Lart. On safeguard he came to me ; and did
curse
Against the Volsces, for they had so vilely
Yielded the town : he is retir'd to Antium.
Cor. Spoke he of me?
Lart. He did, my lord.
Cor. How? what?
Lart. How often he had met you, sword to
sword ;
That of all things upon the earth he hated
Your person most; that he would pawn his
fortunes
To hopeless restitution, so he might
Be call'd your vanquisher.
Cor. At Antium lives he ?
Lart. At Antium.
Cor. I wish I had a cause to seek him there,
To oppose his hatred fully. Welcome home.
[To LARTIUS.
Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS.
Behold ! these are the tribunes of the people,
The tongues o' the common mouth. I do
despise them;
For they do prank them in authority,
Against all noble sufferance.
Sic. Pass no further.
Cor. Ha ! what is that ?
Brti. It will be dangerous to go on : no
further.
Cor. What makes this change ?
Men. The matter ? [commons ?
Com. Hath he not pass'd the nobles and the
Bni. Cominius, no.
Cor. Have I had children's voices ?
I Sen. Tribunes, give way ; he shall to the
market-place.
Bru. The people are incens'd against him.
Sic. Stop,
Or all will fall in broil.
Cor. Are these your herd ?
Must these have voices, that can yield them
now, [your offices ?
And straight disclaim their tongues ? What are
You being their mouths, why rule you not their
teeth?
Have you not set them on ?
Men. Be calm, be calm.
Cor. It is a purpos'd thing, and grows by plot,
To curb the will of the nobility :
Suffer 't, and live with such as cannot
Nor ever will be rul'd.
Bru. Call 't not a plot :
The people cry you mock'd them ; and of !._,
When corn was given them gratis, you repin'd ;
Scandal'd the suppliants for the people, call'd
them
Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness.
Cor. Why, this was known before.
Bru. Not to them all.
Cor. Have you inform'd them sithence ?
Bru. How ! I inform them !
Cor. You are like to do such business.
Bru. Not unlike,
Each way, to better yours.
Cor. Why, then, should I be consul? By
yon clouds,
Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me
Your fellow tribune.
Sic. You show too much of that
For which the people stir : if you will pass
To where you are bound, you must inquire
your way,
Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit ;
Or never be so noble as a consul,
Nor yoke with him for tribune.
Men. Let 's be calm.
Com. The people are abus'd ; set on. This
palt'ring
Becomes not Rome ; nor has Coriolanus
Deserv'd this so dishonour'd rub, laid falsely
I' the plain way of his merit.
Cor. Tell me of corn !
This was my speech, and I will speak 't again,
Alen. Not now, not now.
I Sen. Not in this heat, sir, now.
Cor. Now, as I live, I will. My nobler
friends,
I crave their pardons :
For the mutable, rank-scented many, let them
Regard me as I do not flatter, and
Therein behold themselves : I say again,
In soothing them we nourish 'gainst our senate
The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition,
Which we ourselves have plough'd for, sow'd,
and scatter'd,
By mingling them with us, the honour'd number;
Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that
Which they have given to beggars.
Men. Well, no more.
I Sen. No more words, we beseech you.
Cor. How ! no more !
As for my country I have shed my blood,
Not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs
Coin words till their decay against those measles
Which we disdain should tetter us, yet sought
The very way to catch them.
3$
CORIOLANUS.
[ACT III.
Bru. You speak o' the people
As if you were a god to punish, not
A man of their infirmity.
Sic. 'Twere well
We let the people know 't.
Men. What, what ? his choler ?
Cor. Choler!
Were I as patient as the midnight sleep,
By Jove, 'twould be my mind !
Sic. It is a mind
That shall remain a poison where it is,
Not poison any further.
Cor. Shall remain !
Hear you this Triton of the minnows? mark you
His absolute shall?
Com. 'Twas from the canon.
Cor. Shall!
good, but most unwise patricians ! why,
You grave, but reckless senators, have you thus
Given Hydra leave to choose an officer,
That with his peremptory shall, being but
The horn and noise o' the monster, wants not
spirit
To say he '11 turn your current in a ditch,
And make your channel his ? If he have power,
Then vail your ignorance : if none, awake
Your dangerous lenity. If you are learn'd
Be not as common fools ; if you are not,
Let them have cushions by you. You are
plebeians
If they be senators : and they are no less
When, both your voices blended, the great' st
taste [trate;
Most palates theirs. ' They choose their magis-
And such a one as he, wh puts his shall,
His popular shall, against a graver bench
Than ever frown'd in Greece. By Jove himself,
It makes the consuls base : and my soul aches
To know, when two authorities are up,
Neither supreme, how soon confusion
May enter 'twixt the gap of both, and take
The one by the other.
Com. Well, on to the market-place.
Cor. Whoever gave that counsel, to give forth
The corn o' the storehouse gratis, as 'twas us'd
Sometime in Greece,
Men. Well, well, no more of that.
Cor. Though there the people had more
absolute power,
1 say, they nourished disobedience, fed
The ruin of the state.
Bru. Why, shall the people give
One that speaks thus their voice?
Cor. I '11 give my reasons,
More worthier than their voices. They know
the corn
Was not our recompense, resting well assur'd
They ne'er did service for 't : being press'd to
the war,
Even when the navel of the state was touch'd,
They would not thread the gates, this kind
of service
Did not deserve corn gratis : being i' the war,
Their mutinies and revolts, wherein they show'd
Most valour, spoke not for them. The accusation
Which they have often made against the senate,
All cause unborn, could never be the motive
Of our so frank donation. Well, what then?
How shall this bisson multitude digest
The senate's courtesy? Let deeds express
What 's like to be their words : We did request
it;
We are the greater poll \ and in true fear
They gave us our demands: thus we debase
The nature of our seats, and make the rabble
Call our cares fears : which will in time
Break ope the locks o' the senate, and bring in
The crows to peck the eagles.
Men. Come, enough.
Bru. Enough, with over-measure.
Cor. No, take more :
What may be sworn by, both divine and human,
Seal what I end withal ! This double worship,
Where one part does disdain with cause, the
other [wisdom,
Insult without all reason ; where gentry, title,
Cannot conclude but by the yea and no
Of general ignorance. it must omit
Real necessities, and give way the while
To unstable slightness: purpose so barr'd, it
follows, [youj
Nothing is done to purpose. Therefore, beseech
You that will be less fearful than discreet;
That love the fundamental part of state
More than you doubt the change on't; that
prefer
A noble life before a long, and wish
To vamp a body with a dangerous physic
That 's sure of death without it, at once pluck
out
Vhe multitudinous tongue ; let them not lick
The sweet which is their poison : your dishonour
Mangles true judgment, and bereaves the state
Of that integrity which should become 't ;
Not having the power to do the good it would,
For the ill which doth control 't.
Bru. Has said enough.
Sic. Has spoken like a traitor, and shall
answer
As traitors do.
Cor. Thou wretch despite o'erwhelm thee !
What should the people do with these bald
tribunes?
On whom depending, their obedience fails
SCENE I.]
CORIOLANUS.
839
To the greater bench : in a rebellion, [law,
When what 's not meet, but what must be, was
Then were they chosen ; in a better hour
Let what is meet be said it must be meet,
And throw their power i' the dust.
Bru. Manifest treason.
Sic. This a consul? no.
Bru. The sediles, ho! Let him be appre-
hended, [whose name myself
Sic. Go, call the people [Exit BRUTUS]; in
Attach thee as a traitorous innovator,
A foe to the public weal. Obey, I charge thee,
And follow to thine answer.
Cor. Hence, old goat !
Sen. and Pat. We '11 surety him.
Com. Aged sir, hands off.
Cor. Hence, rotten thing ! or I shall shake
thy bones
Out of thy garments.
Sic. Help, ye citizens 1
Re-enter BRUTUS, with, the ^Ediles and a
rabble 0/ Citizens.
Men. On both sides more respect.
Sic. Here's he that would take from you
all your power.
Bni. Seize him, sediles.
Citizens. Down with him ! down with him !
2 Sen. Weapons, weapons, weapons !
[They all bustle about CORIOLANUS.
Tribunes, patricians, citizens ! what, ho !
Sicinius, Brutus, Coriolanus, citizens !
Citizens. Peace, peace, peace; stay, hold,
peace !
Men. What is about to be? I am out of
breath ; [bunes
Confusion 's near ; I cannot speak. You tri-
To the people, Coriolanus, patience :
Speak, good Sicinius.
Sic. Hear me, people ; peace !
Citizens. Let's hear our tribune": peace!
Speak, speak, speak.
Sic. You are at point to lose your liberties:
Marcius would have all from you ; Marcius,
Whom late you have nam'd for consul.
Men. Fie, fie, fie !
This is the way to kindle, not to quench.
I Sen. To unbuild the city, and to lay all flat.
Sic. What is the city but the people ?
Citizens. True,
The people are the city.
Bru. By the consent of all, we were establish'd
The people's magistrates.
Cit. You so remain.
Men. And so are like to do.
Cor. That is the way to lay the city flat;
To bring the roof to the foundation,
And bury all which yet distinctly ranges,
In heaps and piles of ruin.
Sic. This deserves death.
Bru. Or let us stand to our authority,
Or let us lose it. We do here pronounce,
Upon the part o' the people, in whose power
We were elected theirs, Marcius is worthy
Of present death.
Sic. Therefore lay hold of him ;
Bear him to the rock Tarpeian, and from thence
Into destruction cast him.
Bru. ^Ediles, seize him !
Citizens. Yield, Marcius, yield !
Men. Hear me one word ;
Beseech you, tribunes, hear me but a word.
sEd. Peace, peace ! [friends,
Men. Be that you seem, truly your country's
And temperately proceed to what you would
Thus violently redress.
Bru. Sir, those cold ways,
That seem like prudent helps, are very poisonous
Where the disease is violent. Lay hands upon
him,
And bear him to the rock.
Cor. No; I '11 die here.
[Draws his sword.
There's some among you have beheld me
fighting : [seen me.
Come, try upon yourselves what you have
Men. Down with that sword! Tribunes,
withdraw awhile.
Bru. Lay hands upon him.
Men. Help Marcius, help,
You that be noble ; help him, young and old !
Citizens. Down with him, down with him !
[In this mutiny the Tribunes, the ^Ediles,
and the People are beat in.
Men. Go, get you to your house ; be gone,
away!
All will be naught else.
2 Sen. Get you gone.
Cor. Stand fast ;
We have as many friends as enemies.
Men. Shall it be put to that ?
I Sen. The gods forbid !
I pr'ythee, noble friend, home to thy house ;
Leave us to cure this cause.
Men. For 'tis a sore upon us,
You cannot tent yourself: be gone, beseech you.
Com. Come, sir, along with us. [are,
Cor. I would they were barbarians, as they
Though in Rome litter'd, not Romans, as
they are not,
Though calv'd i' the porch o' the Capitol,
Men. Be gone ;
Put not your worthy rage into your tongue ;
One time will owe another.
840
CORIOLANUS.
[ACT in.
Cor. On fair ground
I could beat forty of them.
Men. I could myself
Take up a brace o' the best of them ; yea, the
two tribunes.
Com. But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic ;
And manhood is call'd foolery when it stands
Against a falling fabric. Will you hence,
Before the tag return ? whose rage doth rend
Like interrupted waters, and o'erbear
What they are used to bear.
Men. Pray you, be gone :
I '11 try whether my old wit be in request
With those that have but little : this must be
patch'd
With cloth of any colour.
Com, -i luey ^ Nay, come away.
[Exeunt COR. , COM. , and others.
1 Pat. This man has marr'd his fortune.
Men. His nature is too noble for the world :
He would not flatter Neptune for his trident,
Or Jove for 's power to thunder. His heart 's
his mouth :
What his breast forges, that his tongue must
vent ;
And, being angry, does forget that ever
He heard the name of death. [A noise within.
Here 's goodly work !
2 Pat. I would they were a-bed !
Men. I would they were in Tiber ! What,
the vengeance,
Could he not speak 'em fair ?
Re-enter BRUTUS and SICINIUS, with the
rabble.
Sic. Where is this viper
That would depopulate the city and
Be every man himself?
Men. You worthy tribunes,
Sic. He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian
rock
With rigorous hands : he hath resisted law,
And therefore law shall scorn him further trial
Than the severity of the public power,
Which he so sets at naught.
i Cit. He shall well know
The noble tribunes are the people's mouths,
And we their hands.
Citizens. He shall, sure on 't.
Men. Sir, sir,
Sic. Peace !
Men. Do not cry havoc, where you should
but hunt
With modest warrant.
Sic. Sir, how comes 't that you
Have holp to make this rescue ?
Men. Hear me speak :
As I do know the consul's worthiness,
So can I name his faults,
Sic. Consul ! what consul ?
Men. The consul Coriolanus.
Bru. He consul !
Citizens. No, no, no, no, no.
Men. If, by the tribunes' leave, and yours,
good people,
I may be heard, I would crave a word or two;
The which shall turn you to no further harm
Than so much loss of time.
Sic. Speak briefly, then ;
For we are peremptory to despatch
This viperous traitor : to eject him hence
Were but one danger ; and to keep him here
Our certain death : therefore it is decreed
He di-es to-night.
Men. Now the good gods forbid
That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude
Towards her deserved children is enroll'd
In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam
Should now eat up her own !
Sic. He 's a disease that must be cut away.
Men. O, he 's a limb that has but a disease j
Mortal, to cut it off ; to cure it, easy.
What has he done to Rome that 's worthy death ?
Killing our enemies, the blood he hath lost,
Which I dare vouch is more than that he hath
By many an ounce, he dropt it for his country ;
And what is left, to lose it by his country
Were to us all, that do't and suffer it,
A brand to the end o' the world.
Sic. This is clean kam.
Bru. Merely awry: when he did love his
country,
It honour'd him.
Men. The service of the foot,
Being once gangren'd, is not then respected
For what before it was.
Bru. We'll hear no more.
Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence ;
Lest his infection, being of catching nature,
Spread further.
Men. One word more, one word.
This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find
The harm of unscann'd swiftness, will, too late,
Tie leaden pounds to's heels. Proceed by
process ;
Lest parties, as he is belov'd, -break out,
And sack great Rome with Romans.
Bru. If it were so,
Sic. What do you talk?
Have we not had a taste of his obedience ?
Our sediles smote? ourselves resisted ? come,
Men. Consider this : he has been bred i' the
wars
Since he could draw a sword, and is ill school'd
SCENE II.]
CORIOLANUS.
841
In bolted language ; meal and bran together
He throws without distinction. Give me leave,
I '11 go to him, and undertake to bring him
Where he shall answer, by a lawful form,
In peace, to his utmost peril.
I Sen. Noble tribunes,
It is the humane way: the other course
Will prove too bloody ; and the end of it
Unknown to the beginning.
Sic. Noble Menenius,
Be you then as the people's officer.
Masters, lay down your weapons.
Bru. Go not home.
Sic. Meet on the market-place. We'll
attend you there :
Where, if you bring not Marcius, we '11 proceed
In our first way.
Men. I '11 bring him to you.
[ To the Senators. ] Let me desire your company :
he must come,
Or what is worst will follow.
I Sen. Pray you, let 's to him.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. ROME. A Room in CORIOLANUS'S
House.
Enter CORIOLANUS and Patricians.
Cor. Let them pull all about mine ears;
present me
Death on the wheel, or at wild horses' heels ;
Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock,
That the precipitation might down stretch
Below the beam of sight ; yet will I still
Be thus to them.
I Pat. You do the nobler.
Cor. I muse my mother
Does not approve me further, who was wont
To call them woollen vassals, things created
To buy and sell with groats ; to show bare heads
In congregations, to yawn, be still, and wonder,
When one but of my ordinance stood up
To speak of peace or war.
Enter VOLUMNIA.
I talk of you : [ To VOLUMNI A.
Why did you wish me milder? Would you
have me
False to my nature? Rather say, I play
The man I am.
Vol. O, sir, sir, sir,
I would have had you put your power well on
Before you had worn it out.
Cor. Let go. [you are
Vol. You might have been enough the man
With striving less to be so : lesser had been
The thwartings of your dispositions if
You had not show'd them how ye were dispos'd
Ere they lack'd power to cross you.
Cor. Let them hang.
Vol. Ay, and burn too.
Enter MENENIUS and Senators.
Men. Come, come, you have been too rough,
something too rough ;
You must return and mend it.
i Sen. There 's no remedy ;
Unless, by not so doing, our good city
Cleave in the midst, and perish.
Vol. Pray, be counseled ;
I have a heart as little apt as yours,
But yet a brain that leads my use of anger
To better vantage.
Men. Well said, noble woman !
Before he should thus stoop to the herd, but that
The violent fit o' the time craves it as physic
For the whole state, I would put mine armour on,
Which I can scarcely bear.
Cor. What must I do?
Men. Return to the tribunes.
Cor. Well, what then? what then?
Men. Repent what you have spoke.
Cor. For them? I cannot do it to the gods ;
Must I then do't to them?
Vol. You are too absolute;
Though therein you can never be too noble
But when extremities speak. I have heard
you say,
Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends,
I' the war do grow together : grant that, and
tell me
In peace what each of them by th* other lose
That they combine not there.
Cor. Tush, tush !
Men. A good demand.
Vol. If it be honour in your wars to seem
The same you are not, which for your best ends
You adopt your policy, how is it less or worse
That it shall hold companionship in peace
With honour as in war ; since that to both
It stands in like request?
Cor. Why force you this?
Vol. Because that now it lies you on to speak
To the people ; not by your own instruction,
Nor by the matter which yourheart prompts you,
But with such words that are but rooted in
Your tongue, though but bastards, and syllables
Of no allowance, to your bosom's truth,
Now, this no more dishonours you at all
Than to take in a town with gentle words,
Which else would put you to your fortune and
The hazard of much blood.
I would dissemble with my nature where
My fortunes and my friends at stake requir'd
842
CORIOLANUS.
[ACT in.
I should do so in honour : I am in this
Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles ;
And you will rather show our general louts
How you can frown, than spend a fawn upon
'em
For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard
Of what that want might ruin.
Men. Noble lady !
Come, go with us ; speak fair : you may salve so,
Not what is dangerous present, but the loss
Of what is past.
Vol. I pr'ythee now, my son,
Go to them with this bonnet in thy hand ;
And thus far having stretch'd it, here be with
them, [business
Thy knee bussing the stones, for in such
Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant
More learned than the ears, waving thy head,
Which often, thus, correcting thy stout heart,
Now humble as the ripest mulberry
That will not hold the handling : or say to them
Thou art their soldier, and, being bred in
broils,
Hast not the soft way which, thou dost confess,
Were fit for thee to use, as they to claim,
In asking their good loves; but thou wilt frame
Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far
AS thou hast power and person.
Men. This but done,
Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were
yours :
For they have pardons, being ask'd, as free
As words to little purpose.
Vol. Pr'ythee now,
Go, and be rul'd : although I know thou had'st
rather
Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf
Than flatter him in a bower. Here is Cominius.
Enter COMINIUS.
Com. I have been i' the market-place ; and,
sir, 'tis fit
You make strong party, or defend yourself
By calmness or by absence : all 's in anger.
Men. Only fair speech.
Com. I think 'twill serve, if he
Can thereto frame his spirit.
Vol. He must, and will.
Pr'ythee now, say you will, and go about it.
Cor. Must I go show them my unbarb'd
sconce? must I,
With my base tongue, give to my noble heart
A lie, that it must bear? Well, I will do't:
Yet, were there but this single plot to lose,
This mould of Marcius, they to dust should
grind it, [place :
And throw 't against the wind. To the market-
You have put me now to such a part which
never
I shall discharge to the life.
Com. Come, come, we '11 prompt you.
Vol. I pr'ythee now, sweet son, as thou
hast said
My praises made thee first a soldier, so,
To have my praise for this, perform a part
Thou hast not done before.
Cor. Well, I must do 't :
Away, my disposition, and possess me
Some harlot's spirit! My throat of war be
turn'd,
Which quired with my drum, into a pipe
Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice
That babies lulls asleep ! the smiles of knaves
Tent in my cheeks; and school-boys' tears
take up
The glasses of my sight ! a beggar's tongue
Make motion through my lips ; and my arm'd
knees,
Who bow'd but in my stirrup, bend like his
That hath receiv'd an alms ! I will not do 't ;
Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth,
And by my body's action teach my mind
A most inherent baseness.
Vol. At thy choice, then:
To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour
Than thou of them. Come all to ruin : let
Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear
Thy dangerous stoutness ; for I mock at death
With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list.
Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck'dst it
from me ;
But owe thy pride thyself.
Cor. Pray, be content:
Mother, I am going to the market-place ;
Chide me no more. I'll mountebank their
loves, [belov'd
Cog their hearts from them, and come home
Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going:
Commend me to my wife. I '11 return consul ;
Or never trust to what my tongue can do
I' the way of flattery further.
Vol. Do your will. [Exit.
Com. Away! the tribunes do attend you:
arm yourself
To answer mildly ; for they are prepar'd
With accusations, as I hear, more strong
Than are upon you yet.
Cor. The word is, mildly. Pray you, let us
go:
Let them accuse me by invention, I
Will answer in mine honour.
Men. Ay, but mildly.
Cor. Well, mildly be it then ; mildly.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.]
CORIOLANUS.
843
SCENE III. ROME. Tht. Forum.
Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS.
Bru. In this point charge him home, that
he affects
Tyrannical power : if he evade us there,
Enforce him with his envy to the people;
And that the spoil got on the Antiates
Was ne'er distributed.
Enter an ^Edile.
What, will he come?
Ad* He 's coming.
Bru. How accompanied?
&d. With old Menenius, and those senators
That always favour'd him.
Sic. Have you a catalogue
Of all the voices that we have procur'd,
Set down by the poll?
jEd. I have ; 'tis ready.
Sic. Have you collected them by tribes?
sEd. I have.
Sic. Assemble presently the people hither :
And when they hear me say, // shall be so
r the right and strength a' the commons, be it
either [them,
For death, for fine, or banishment, then let
If I say fine, cry Fine, if death, cry Death;
Insisting on the old prerogative
And power i' the truth o' the cause.
j*Ed. I shall inform them.
Bru. And when such time they have begun
to cry,
Let them not cease, but with a din confus'd
Enforce the present execution
Of what we chance to sentence.
;3Ld. Very well.
Sic. Make them be strong, and ready for
this hint,
When we shall hap to give 't them.
Bru. Go about it
[Exit ^Edile.
Put him to choler straight : he hath been us'd
Ever to conquer, and to have his worth
Of contradiction: being once chaf'd, he cannot
Be rein'd again to temperance ; then he speaks
What 's in his heart ; and that is there which
looks
With us to break his neck.
Sic. Well, here he comes.
Enter CORIOLANUS, MENENIUS, COMINIUS,
Senators, and Patricians.
Men. Calmly, I do beseech you.
Cor. Ay, as an ostler, that for the poorest
piece [honour'd gods
Will bear the knave by the volume. The
Keep Rome in safety, and the chairs of justice
Supplied with worthy men ! plant love among 's!
Throng our large temples with the shows of
peace,
And not our streets with war !
i Sen. Amen, amen!
Men. A noble wish.
Re-enter yEdile, with Citizens.
Sic. Draw near, ye people. [I say !
sd. List to your tribunes ; audience : peace,
Cor. First, hear me speak.
Both. Tri. Well, say. Peace, ho!
Cor. Shall I be charg'd no further than this
present ?
Must all determine here?
Sic. I do demand,
If you submit you to the people's voices,
Allow their officers, and are content
To suffer lawful censure for such faults
As shall be proved upon you?
Cor. I am content.
Men. Lo, citizens, he says he is content :
The warlike service he has done, consider;
think [like
Upon the wounds his body bears, which show
Graves i' the holy churchyard.
Cor. Scratches with briers,
Scars to move laughter only.
Men. Consider further,
That when he speaks not like a citizen,
You find him like a soldier : do not take
His rougher accents for malicious sounds,
But, as I say, such as become a soldier.
Rather than envy you.
Com. Well, well, no more.
Cor. What is the matter,
That being pass'd for consul with full voice,
I am so dishonour'd that the very hour
You take it off again?
Sic. Answer to us.
Cor. Say then: 'tis true, I ought so.
Sic. We charge you that you h sve contrived
to take
From Rome all season'd office, and to wind
Yourself into a power tyrannical ;
For which you are a traitor to the people.
Cor. How! traitor!
Men. Nay, temperately; your promise.
Cor. The fires i' the lowest hell fold in the
Call me their traitor ! Thou injurious tribune !
Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths,
In thy hands clutch'd as many millions, in
Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say,
Thou liest unto thee, with a voice as free
As I do pray the gods.
844
CORIOLANUS.
{ACT iv.
Sic. Mark you this, people?
Citizens. To the rock, to the rock with him !
Sic. Peace!
We need not put new matter to his charge :
What you have seen him do and heard him
speak,
Beating your officers, cursing yourselves,
Opposing laws with strokes, and here defying
Those whose great power must try him ; even
this,
So criminal, and in such capital kind,
Deserves the extremest death.
Bru. But since he hath
Serv'd well for Rome,
Cor. What do you prate of service ?
Bru. I talk of that, that know it.
Cor. You? [mother?
Men. Is this the promise that you made your
Com. Know, I pray you,
Cor. I '11 know no further :
Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death,
Vagabond exile, flaying, pent to linger
But with a grain a day, I would not buy
Their mercy at the price of one fair word,
Nor check my courage for what they can give,
To have 't with saying Good-morrow.
Sic. For that he has,
As much as in him lies, from time to time
Envied against the people, seeking means
To pluck away their power ; as now at last
Given hostile strokes, and that not in the
presence
Of dreaded justice, but on the ministers
That do distribute it; in the name o' the people,
And in the power of us the tribunes, we,
Even from this instant, banish him our city;
In peril of precipitation
From off the rock Tarpeian, never more
To enter our Rome gates : i' the people's name,
I say it shall be so.
Citizens. It shall be so, it shall be so; let
him away :
He 's banished, and it shall be so.
Com. Hear me, my masters, and my common
friends,
Sic. He 's sentenc'd ; no more hearing.
Com. Let me speak :
I have been consul, and can show for Rome
Her enemies' marks upon me. I do love
My country's good with a respect more tender,
More holy and profound, than mine own life,
My dear wife's estimate, her womb's increase,
And treasure of my loins; then if I would
Speak that,
Sic. We know your drift. Speak what ?
JBru. There 's no more to be said, but he is
banish'd,
As enemy to the people and his country :
It shall be so.
Citizens. It shall be so, it shall be so.
Cor. You common cry of curs ! whose breath
I hate
As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize
As the dead carcasses of unburied men
That do corrupt my air, I banish you ;
And here remain with your uncertainty !
Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts!
Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,
Fan you into despair ! Have the power still
To banish your defenders ; till at length
Your ignorance, which finds not till it feels,
Making not reservation of yourselves,
Still your own foes, deliver you, as most
Abated captives, to some nation
That won you without blows ! Despising,
For you, the city, thus I turn my back :
There is a world elsewhere.
[JSxeuntCoR., COM., MEN., Senators,
and Patricians.
sEd. The people's enemy is gone, is gone !
Citizens. Our enemy is banish'd ! he is gone !
Hoo! hoo!
\Shouting) and throwing up their caps.
Sic. Go, see him out at gates, and follow
him,
As he hath follow'd you, with all despite ;
Give him deserv'd vexation. Let a guard
Attend us through the city. [gates ; come.
Citizens. Come, come, let us see him out at
The gods preserve our noble tribunes ! Come.
[Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. ROME. Before a Gate of the City.
Enter CORIOLANUS, VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA,
MENENIUS, COMINIUS, and several young
Patricians.
Cor. Come, leave your tears; a brief fare-
well: the beast
With manyheads butts me away. Nay, mother,
Where is your ancient courage? you were us'd
To say extremity was the trier of spirits ;
That common chances common men could bear ;
That when the sea was calm all boats alike
Show'd mastership in floating ; fortune's blows,
When most struck home, being gentle wounded,
craves
A noble cunning: you were us'd to load me
With precepts that would make invincible
The heart that conn'd them.
Vir. O heavens 1 O heavens !
Cor. Nay, I pr'ythee, woman, t
SCENE I.]
CORIOLANU9.
845
Vol. Now the red pestilence strike all trades
in Rome,
And occupations perish !
Cor. What, what, what!
I shall be lov'd when I am lack'd. Nay, mother,
Resume that spirit when you were wont to say,
If you had been the wife of Hercules,
Six of his labours you 'd have done, and sav'd
Your husband so much sweat. Cominius,
Droop not; adieu. Farewell, my wife, my
mother :
I '11 do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius,
Thy tears are salter than a younger man's,
And venomous to thine eyes. My sometime
general,
I have seen thee stern, and thou hast oft beheld
Heart-hard'ning spectacles; tell these sad women
'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes,
As 'tis to laugh at 'em. My mother, you wot
well
My hazards still have been your solace : and
Believe 't not lightly, though I go alone,
Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen [your son
Makes fear'd and talk'd of more than seen,
Will or exceed the common or be caught
With cautelous baits and practice.
Vol. My first son,
Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius
With thee awhile : determine on some course
More than a wild exposture to each chance
That starts i' the way before thee.
Cor. O the gods !
Com. I '11 follow thee a month, devise with
thee [of us,
Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear
And we of thee : so, if the time thrust forth
A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send
O'er the vast world to seek a single man ;
And lose advantage, which doth ever cool
I' the absence of the needer.
Cor. Fare ye well :
Thou hast years upon thee ; and thou art too full
Of the wars' surfeits to go rove with one
That 's yet unbruis'd: bring me but out at gate.
Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and
My friends of noble touch; when I am forth,
Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come.
While I remain above the ground, you shall
Hear from me still ; and never of me aught
But what is like me formerly.
Men. That's worthily
As any ear can hear. Come, let 's not weep.
If I could shake off but one seven years
From these old arms and legs, by the good gods,
I 'd with thee every foot.
Cor. Give me thy hand :
Come. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. ROME. A Street near the Gate.
Enter SiciNius, BRUTUS, and an ^Edile.
Sic. Bid them all home; he's gone, and
we '11 no further.
The nobility are vex'd, whom we see have sided
In his behalf.
Bru. Now we have shown our power,
Let us seem humbler after it is done
Than when it was a-doing.
Sic. Bid them home :
Say their great enemy is gone, and they
Stand in their ancient strength.
Bru. Dismiss them home.
[Exit ^Edile.
Here comes his mother.
Sic. Let 's not meet her.
Bru. Why?
Sic. They say she 's mad. [your way.
Bru. They have ta'en note of us : keep on
and MENENIUS.
Vol. O, you're well met : the hoarded plague
o' the gods
Requite your love !
Men. Peace, peace, be not so loud.
Vol. If that I could for weeping, you should
hear, [gone ?
Nay, and you shall hear some. Will you be
[To BRUTUS.
Vir. You shall stay too [To SiciNius]: I
would I had the power
To say so to my husband.
Sic. Are you mankind ?
Vol. Ay, fool ; is that a shame ? Note but
this fool.
Was not a man my father ? Hadst thou foxship
To banish him that struck more blows for Rome
Than thou hast spoken words ?
Sic. O blessed heavens !
Vol. More noble blows than ever thou wise
words; [yet go;
And for Rome's good. I'll tell thee what;
Nay, but thou shalt stay too : I would my son
Were in Arabia, and thy tribe before him,
His good sword in his hand.
Sic. What then?
Vir. What then !
He 'd make an end of thy posterity.
Vol. Bastards and all. [Rome !
Good man, the wounds that he does bear for
Men. Come, come, peace.
Sic. I would he had continu'd to his country
As he began, and not unknit himself
The noble knot he made.
Bru. I would he had.
846
CORIOLANUS.
[ACT IV.
Vol. I would he had! 'Twas you incens'd
the rabble;
Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth
As I can of those mysteries which heaven
Will not have earth to know.
Bru. Pray, let us go.
VoL Now, pray, sir, get you gone : [this,
You have done a brave deed. Ere you go, hear
As far as doth the Capitol exceed
The meanest house in Rome, so far my son,
This lady's husband here ; this, do you see ?
Whom you have banish'd, does exceed you all.
Bru. Well, well, we'll leave you.
Sic. Why stay we to be baited
With one that wants her wits?
Vol. Take my prayers with you.
I would the gods had nothing else to do
[Exeunt Tribunes.
But to confirm my curses ! Could I meet 'em
But once a day, it would unclog my heart
Of what lies heavy to 't.
Men. You have told them home,
And, by my troth, you have cause. You '11 sup
with me ?
Vol. Anger 's my meat ; I sup upon myself,
And so shall starve with feeding. Come, let's
go:
Leave this faint puling, and lament as I do,
In anger, Juno-like. Come, come, come.
Men. Fie, fie, fie! [Exeunt.
SCENE III. A Highway between Rome and
Antium.
Enter a Roman and a Volsce, meeting.
Rom. I know you well, sir ; and you know
me : your name, I think, is Adrian.
Vols. It is so, sir : truly, I have forgot you.
Rom. I am a Roman; and my services are,
as you are, against 'em : know you me yet ?
Vols. Nicanor? no.
Rom. The same, sir.
Vols. You had more beard when I last saw
you ; but your favour is well approved by your
tongue. What 's the news in Rome ? I have a
note from the Volscian state, to find you out
there : you have well saved me a day's journey.
Rom. There hath been in Rome strange
insurrection; the people against the senators,
patricians, and nobles.
Vols. Hath been! is it ended, then? Our
state thinks not so ; they are in a most warlike
preparation, and hope to come upon "them in
the heat of their division.
Rom. The main blaze of it is past, but a
small thing would make it flame again : for the
nobles receive so to heart the banishment of
that worthy Coriolanus that they are in a ripe
aptness to take all power from the people, and
to pluck from them their tribunes for ever.
This lies glowing, I can tell you, and is almost
mature for the violent breaking out.
Vols. Coriolanus banished !
Rom. Banished, sir.
Vols. You will be welcome with this intelli-
gence, Nicanor.
Rom. The day serves well for them now. I
have heard it said the fittest time to corrupt a
man's wife is when she's fallen out with her
husband. Your noble Tullus Aufidius will
appear well in these wars, his great opposer,
Coriolanus, being now in no request of his
country.
Vols. He cannot choose. I am most for-
tunate thus accidentally to encounter you : you
have ended my business, and I will merrily
accompany you home.
Rom. I shall, between this and supper, tell
you most strange things from Rome ; all tending
to the good of their adversaries. Have you an
army ready, say you ?
Vols. A most royal one ; the centurions and
their charges, distinctly billeted, already in the
entertainment, and to be on foot at an hour's
warning.
Rom. I am joyful to hear of their readiness,
and am the man, I think, that shall set them
in present action. So, sir, heartily well met,
and most glad of your company.
Vols. You take my part from me, sir ; I have
the most cause to be glad of yours.
Rom. Well, let us go together. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. ANTIUM. Before AUFIDIUS'S
House.
Enter CORIOLANUS, in mean apparel, disguised
and mu-ffled.
Cor. A goodly city is this Antium. City,
'Tis I that made thy widows : many an heir
Of these fa ; r edifices 'fore my wars
Have I heard groan and drop : then know me
not, [stones
Lest that thy wives with spits and boys with
In puny battle slay me.
Enter a Citizen.
Save you, sir.
Cit. And you.
Cor. Direct me, if it be your will,
Where great Aufidius lies : is he in Antium?
Cit. He is, and feasts the nobles of the state
At his house this night.
Cor. Which is his house, beseech you?
SCENE V.]
CORIOLANUS.
847
Cit. This, here, before you.
Cor. Thank you, sir: farewell.
[Exit Citizen.
world, thy slippery turns ! Friends now fast
sworn,
Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart,
Whose house, whose bed, whose meal and
exercise
Are still together, who twin, as 'twere, in love
Unseparable, shall within this hour,
On a dissension of a doit, break out
To bitterest enmity ; so fellest foes, [sleep
Whose passions and whose plots have broke their
To take the one the other, by some chance,
Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear
friends,
And interjoin their issues. So with me :
My birthplace hate I, and my love 's upon
This enemy town. I '11 enter: if he slay me,
He does fair justice ; if he give me way,
1 '11 do his country service. [Exit.
SCENE V. ANTIUM. A Hall in AUFIDIUS'S
House.
Music within. Enter a Servant.
1 Serv. Wine, wine, wine ! What service is
here !
I think our fellows are asleep. [Exit.
Enter a second Servant.
2 Serv. Where 's Cotus ? my master calls for
him. Cotus! [Exit.
Enter CORIOLANUS.
Cor. A goodly house : the feast smells well ;
but I
Appear not like a guest
Re-enter the first Servant.
1 Serv. What would you have, friend? whence
are you? Here 's no place for you : pray, go to
the door.
Cor. I have deserv'd no better entertainment
In being Coriolanus.
Re-enter second Servant.
2 Serv. Whence are you, sir? Has the porter
his eyes in his head, that he gives entrance to
such companions? Pray, get you out.
Cor. Away!
2 Serv. Away ! Get you away.
Cor. Now thou art troublesome.
2 Serv. Are you so brave? I'll have you
talked with anon.
Enter a third Servant. The first meets him.
ZStrv. What fellow's this?
I Serv. A strange one as ever I looked on : I
cannot get him out o' the house : pr'ythee, call
my master to him.
3 Serv. What have you to do here, fellow?
Pray you, avoid the house.
Cor. Let me but stand ; I will not hurt your
hearth.
3 Serv. What are you?
Cor. A gentleman.
3 Serv. A marvellous poor one.
Cor. True, so I am.
3 Serv. Pray you, poor gentleman, take up
some other station ; here 's no place for you ;
pray you, avoid: come.
Cor. Follow your function, go,
And batten on cold bits. [Pushes him away.
3 Serv. What, you will not? Pr'ythee, tell
my master what a strange guest he has here.
2 Serv. And I shall. [Exit,
3 Serv. Where dwellest thou?
Cor. Under the canopy.
3 Serv. Under the canopy !
Cor. Ay.
^Serv. Where's that?
Cor. r the city of kites and crows.
3 Serv. I' the city of kites and crows ! What
an ass it is ! Then thou dwellest with daws too?
Cor. No, I serve not thy master.
3 Serv. How, sir ! Do you meddle with my
master?
Cor. Ay; 'tis an honester service than to
meddle with thy mistress :
Thou prat'st and prat'st ; serve with thy trencher,
hence ! [Beats him in.
Enter AUFIDIUS and the second Servant
Auf. Where is this fellow?
2 Serv. Here, sir : I'd have beaten him like
a dog, but for disturbing the lords within.
Auf. Whence comest thou? what wouldst
thou? thy name? [name?
Why speak'st not? speak, man: what's thy
Cor. If, Tullus, [Unmuffling.
Not yet thou know'st me, and, seeing me, dost
not
Think me for the man I am, necessity
Commands me name myself.
Auf. What is thy name?
[Servants retire.
Cor. A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears,
And harsh in sound to thine.
Auf. Say, what's thy name?
Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face
Bears a'command in 't ; though thy tackle 's torn,
Thou show'st a noble vessel : what 's thy name?
Cor. Prepare thy brow to frown : know'st
thou me yet?
Auf. I know thee not : thy name?
848
CORIOLANUS.
[ACT iv.
Cor. My name is Caius Marcius, who hath
done
To thee particularly, and to all the Volsces,
Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may
My surname, Coriolanus : the painful service,
The extreme dangers, and the drops of blood
Shed for my thankless country, are requited
But with that surname ; a good memory,
And witness of the malice and displeasure
Which thou shouldst bear me : only that name
remains ;
The cruelty and envy of the people,
Permitted by our dastard nobles, who
Have all forsook me, hath devour'd the rest,
And suffer'd me by the voice of slaves to be
Whoop'd out of Rome. Now, this extremity
Hath brought me to thy hearth : not out of hope,
Mistake me not, to save my life ; for if
I had fear'd death, of all the men i' the world
I would have 'voided thee ; but in mere spite,
To be full quit of those iny banishers,
Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast
A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge
Thine own particular wrongs, and stop those
maims [straight,
Of shame seen through thy country, speed thee
And make my misery serve thy turn : so use it
That my revengeful services may prove
As benefits to thee ; for I will fight
Against my canker'd country with the spleen
Of all the under fiends. But if so be
Thou dar'st not this, and that to prove more
fortunes
Thou 'rt tir'd, then, in a word, I also am
Longer to live most weary, and present
My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice ;
Which not to cut would thee show but a fool,
Since I have ever follow'd thee with hate,
Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast,
And cannot live but to thy shame, unless
It be to do thee service.
Auf. O Marcius, Marcius !
Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from
my heart
A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter
Should from yond cloud speak divine things,
And say 'Tis true, I'd not believe them more
Than thee, all noble Marcius. Let me twine
Mine arms about that body, where against
My grained ash an hundred times hath broke
And scar'd the moon with splinters : here I clip
The anvil of my sword, and do contest
As hotly and as nobly with thy love
As ever in ambitious strength I did
Contend against thy valour. Know thou first,
I lov'd the maid I married ; never man
Sighed truer breath; but that I see thee here,
Thou noble thing ! more dances my rapt heart
Than when I first my wedded mistress saw
Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! 1
tell thee,
We have a power on foot ; and I had purpose
Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn,
Or lose mine arm for't : thou hast beat me out
Twelve several times, and I have nightly since
Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me ;
We have been down together in my sleep,
Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat,
And wak'd half dead with nothing. Worthy
Marcius,
Had we no other quarrel else to Rome, but that
Thou art thence banish'd, we would muster all
From twelve to seventy ; and, pouring war
Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,
Like a bold flood o'erbear. O, come, go in,
And take our friendly senators by the hands ;
Who now are here, taking their leaves of me,
Who am prepar'd against your territories,
Though not for Rome itself.
Cor. You bless me, gods !
Auf. Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou
wilt have
The leading of thine own revenges, take
The one half of my commission ; and set down,
As best thou art experience'd, since thou know'st
Thy country's strength and weakness, thine
own ways ;
Whether to knock against the gates of Rome,
Or rudely visit them in parts remote,
To fright them, ere destroy. But come in :
Let me commend thee first to those that shall
Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes !
And more a friend than e'er an enemy ;
Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand :
most welcome !
[Exeunt COR. and AUF.
1 Serv. [Advancing.'} Here's a strange altera-
tion!
2 Serv. By my hand, I had thought to have
strucken him with a cudgel ; and yet my mind
gave me his clothes made a false report of him.
1 Serv. What an arm he has! He turned
me about with his finger and his thumb, as one
ould set up a top.
2 Serv. Nay, I knew by his face that there
was something in him : he had, sir, a kind of
face, methought, I cannot tell how to term it.
1 Serv. He had so; looking as it were,
would I were hanged, but I thought there was
more in him than I could think.
2 Serv. So did I, I'll be sworn : he is simply
the rarest man i' the world.
i Serv. I think he is : but a greater soldier
than he you wot on.
.]
CORIOLANUS.
849
2 Serv. Who, my master?
1 Serv. Nay, it 's no matter for that.
2 Serv. Worth six on him.
1 Serv. Nay, not so neither : but I take him
to be the greater soldier.
2 Serv. Faith, look you, one cannot tell how
to say that : for the defence of a town our
general is excellent.
I Serv. Ay, and for an assault too.
Re-enter third Servant.
3 Serv. O slaves, I can tell you news, news,
you rascals ! [take.
I and 2 Serv. What, what, what ? let 's par-
3 Serv. I would not be a Roman, of all
nations ; I had as lieve be a condemned man.
i and 2 Serv. Wherefore? wherefore?
3 Serv. Why, here's he that was wont to
.thwack our general, Caius Marcius.
1 Serv. Why do you say, thwack our general?
3 Serv. I do not say, thwack our general;
but he was always good enough for him.
2 Serv. Come, we are fellows and friends :
he was ever too hard for him; I have heard
him say so himself.
1 Serv. He was too hard for him directly, to
say the troth on 't : before Corioli he scotched
him and notched him like a carbonado.
2 Serv. An he had been cannibally given, he
might have broiled and eaten him to.
1 Serv. But more of thy news?
3 Serv. Why, he is so made on here within
as if he were son and heir to Mars ; set at upper
end o' the table ; no question asked him by any
of the senators, but they stand bald before him :
our general himself makes a mistress of him ;
sanctifies himself with's hand, and turns up
the white o' the eye to his discourse. But the
bottom of the news is, our general is cut i' the
middle, and but one half of what he was yester-
day ; for the other ha^ half, by the entreaty and
grant of the whole '.able. He '11 go, he says,
and sowl the portev of Rome gates by the ears :
he will mow all down before him, and leave
his passage polJ.ed.
2 Serv. An'd he 's as like to do 't as any man
I can imagir,e.
3 Serv, "Do't! he will do't; for, look you,
sir, he b'as as many friends as enemies ; which
friend?., sir, as it were, durst not, look you, sir,
show themselves, as we term it, his friends,
whilst he 's in dejectitude.
i Serv. Dejectitude! what's that?
3 Serv. But when they shall see, sir, his crest
up again, and the man in blood, they will out
of their burrows, like conies after rain, and
revel all with him.
1 Serv. But when goes this forward ?
3 Serv. To-morrow; to-day; presently; you
shall have the drum struck up this afternoon:
'tis as it were a parcel of their feast, and to be
executed ere they wipe their lips.
2 Serv. Why, then we shall have a stirring
world again. This peace is good for nothing
but to rust iron, increase tailors, and breed
ballad-makers.
1 Serv. Let me have war, say I ; it exceeds
peace as far as day does night; it's spritely,
waking, audible, and full of vent. Peace is a
very apoplexy, lethargy ; mulled, deaf, sleepy,
insensible; a getter of more bastard children
than wars a destroyer of men.
2 Serv. 'Tis so : and as wars, in some sort,
may be said to be a ravisher, so it cannot be
denied but peace is a great maker of cuckolds.
I Serv. Ay, and it makes men hate one
another.
3 Serv. Reason ; because they then less need
one another. The wars for my money. I hope
to see Romans as cheap as Volscians. They
are rising, they are rising.
All. In, in, in, in ! [Exeunt.
SCENE VI. ROME. A public Place.
Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS.
Sic. We hear not of him, neither need we
fear him ;
His remedies are tame i' the present peace
And quietness of the people, which before
Were in wild hurry. Here do we make his friends
Blush that the world goes well ; who rather had,
Though they themselves did suffer by 't, behold
Dissentious numbers pestering streets than see
Our tradesmen singing in their shops, and going
About their functions friendly.
Bru. We stood to't in good time. Is this
Menenius ?
Sic. 'Tis he, 'tis he : O, he is grown most kind
Of late.
Enter MENENIUS.
Bru. Hail, sir !
Men. Hail to you both !
Sic. Your Coriolanus is not much miss'd
But with his friends : the commonwealth doth
stand ;
And so would do, were he more angry at it.
Men. All 's well ; and might have been much
better if
He could have temporiz'd.
Sic. Where is he, hear you ?
Men. Nay, I hear nothing : his mother and
his wife
Hear nothing from him.
8 5 o
CORIOLANUS.
[ACT iv.
Enter three or four Citizens.
Citizens* The gods preserve you both !
Sic. God-den, our neighbours.
Bru. God-den to you all, God-den to you all.
i Cit. OUrselves, our wives, and children, on
our knees,
Are bound to pray for you both.
Sic. Live and thrive !
Bru. Farewell, kind neighbours; we wish'd
Coriolanus
Had lov'd you as we did.
Citizens. Now the gods keep you !
Both Tri. Farewell, ferewell.
[Exeunt Citizens.
Sic. This is a happier and more comely time
Than when these fellows ran about the streets
Crying confusion.
Bru. Caius Marcius was
A worthy officer i' the war ; but insolent,
O'ercomewith pride, ambitious past all thinking,
Self-loving,
Sic. And affecting one sole throne,
Without assistance.
Men. I think not so. [tion,
Sic. We should by this, to all our lamenta-
If he had gone forth consul, found it so.
Bru. The gods have well prevented it, and
Rome
Sits safe and still without him.
Enter an ^Edile,
^d. Worthy tribunes,
There is a slave, whom we have put in prison,
Reports, the Volsces with two several powers
Are enter'd in the Roman territories ;
And with the deepest malice of the war
Destroy what lies before 'em.
Men. Tis Aufidius,
Who, hearing of our Marcius' banishment,
Thrusts forth his horns again into the world ;
Which were inshell'd when Marcius stood for
Rome,
And durst not once peep out.
Sic. Come, what talk you
Of Marcius?
Bru. Go see this rumourer whipp'd.It
cannot be
The Volsces dare break with us,
M**- Cannot be !
We hav record that very well it can;
And three examples of the like have been
Within my age. But reason with the fellow,
Before you punish him, where he heard this ;
Lest you shall chance to whip your information,
And beat the messenger who bids beware
Of what is to be dreaded.
Sic. Tell not me :
I know this cannot be.
Bru. Not possible.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. The nobles in great earnestness are
going
All to the senate-house : some news is come
That turns their countenances.
Sic. 'Tis this slave,
Go whip him 'fore the people's eyes : his rais-
ing;
Nothing but his report.
Mess. Yes, worthy sir,
The slave's report is seconded ; and more,
More fearful, is deliver'd.
Sic. What more fearful?
Mess. It is spoke freely out of many mouths,
How probable I do not know, that Marcius,
Join'd with Aufidius, leads a power 'gainst Rome,
And vows revenge as spacious as between
The young'st and oldest thing,
Sic. This is most likely !
Bru. Rais'd only, that the weaker sort may
wish
God Marcius home again.
Sic. The very trick on 't,
Men. This is unlikely :
He and Aufidius can no more atone
Than violentest contrariety.
Enter a second Messenger.
2 Mess. You are sent for to the senate:
A fearful army, led by Caius Marcius
Associated with Aufidius, rages
Upon our territories ; and have already [took
Overborne their way, consurn'd with fire, and
What lay before them.
Enter COMINIUS.
Com. O, you have made good work !
Men. Whsvit news ? what news ?
Com. You have holp tO> ravish your own
daughters, and
To melt the city leads upon your pates ;
To see your wives dishonour'd to your noses,
Men. What's the news? what 's the news?
Com. Your temples burned in their cement;
and
Your franchises, whereon you stood, ct^nfin d
Into an auger's bore.
Men. Pray now, your news *
You have made fair work, I fear me. Pr&T,
your news ?
If Marcius should be join'd with Volscians, '
Com. If1
He is their god : fce leads them like a thing
Made by some other deity than nature,
SCENE VI.]
CORIOLANUS.
8 5 l
That shapes man better ; and they follow him,
Against us brats, with no less confidence
Than boys pursuing summer butterflies,
Or butchers killing flies.
> Men. You have made good work,
You and your apron men ; you that stood so
much
Upon the voice of occupation and
The breath of garlic-eaters !
Com. He will shake
Your Rome about your ears.
Men. As Hercules
Did shake down mellow fruit. You have made
fair work !
Brti. But is this true, sir ?
Com. Ay ; and you '11 look pale
Before you find it other. All the regions
Do smilingly revolt ; and who resist
Are only mock'd for valiant ignorance,
And perish constant fools. Who is 't can blame
him?
Your enemies and his find something in him.
Men. We are all undone unless
The noble man have mercy.
Com. Who shall ask it ?
The tribunes cannot do 't for shame ; the people
Deserve such pity of him as the wolf [they
Does of the shepherds : for his best friends, if
Should say, Be good to Rome, they charg'd him
even
As those should do that had deserv'd his hate,
And therein show'd like enemies.
Men. 'Tis true :
If he were putting to my house the brand
That should consume it, I have not the face
To say, Beseech you, cease. You have made
fair hands,
You and your crafts ! you have crafted fair !
Com. You have brought
A trembling upon Rome, such as was never
So incapable of help.
Both Tri. Say not, we brought it.
Men. How ! Was it we ? we lov'd him ;
but, like beasts, [clusters,
And cowardly nobles, gave way unto your
Who did hoot him out o' the city.
Com. But I fear
They '11 roar him in again. Tullus Aufidius,
The second name of men, obeys his points
As if he were his officer: desperation
Is all the policy, strength, and defence,
That Rome can make against them.
Enter a troop 0/" Citizens.
Men. Here comes the clusters.
And is Aufidius with him ? You are they
That made the air unwholesome, when you cast
Your stinking greasy caps in hooting at
Coriolanus' exile. Now he 's coming ;
And not a hair upon a soldier's head [combs
Which will not prove a whip : as many cox-
As you threw caps up will he tumble down,
And pay you for your voices. 'Tis no matter ;
If he could burn us all into one coal,
We have deserv'd it
Citizens. Faith, we hear fearful news.
1 Cit. For mine own part,
When I said banish him, I said 'twas pity.
2 Cit. And so did I.
3 Cit. And so did I ; and, to say the truth, so
did very many of us. That we did, we did for
the best ; and though we willingly consented to
his banishment, yet it was against our will.
Com. You are goodly things, you voices !
Men. You have made
Good work, you and your cry ! Shall 's to the
Capitol ?
Com. O, ay ; what else ?
[Exeunt COM. and MEN.
Sic. Go, masters, get you home ; be not dis-
may'd:
These are a side that would be glad to have
This true which they so seem to fear. Go home,
And show no sign of fear.
1 Cit. The gods be good to us ! Come,
masters, let's home. I ever said we were i'
the wrong when we banished him.
2 Cit. So did we all. But come, let 's home.
[Exeunt Citizens.
Bru. I do not like this news.
Sic. Nor I. [wealth
Bru. Let 's to the Capitol : would half my
Would buy this for a lie !
Sic. Pray, let us go. [Exeunt,
SCENE VII. A Camp at a small distance
from Rome.
Enter AUFIDIUS and his Lieutenant.
Auf. Do f .hey still fly to the Roman ?
Lieu. I do not know what witchcraft 's in
him, but
Your soldiers use him as the grace 'fore meat,
Their talk at table, and their thanks at end ;
And you are darken'd in this action, sir,
Even by your own.
Auf. I cannot help it now,
Unless, by using means, I lame the foot
Of our design. He bears himself more proudlier,
Even to my person, than I thought he would
When first I did embrace him : yet his nature
In that 's no changeling ; and I must excuse
What cannot be amended.
Lieu. Yet I wish, sir,
8 5 2
CORIOLANUS.
[ACT v.
I mean, for your particular, you had not
Join'd in commission with him ; but either
Had borne the action of yourself, or else
To him had left it solely. [sure,
Auf. I understand thee well; and be thou
When he shall come to his account, he knows not
What I can urge against him. Although it seems,
And so he thinks, and is no less apparent
To the vulgar eye, that he bears all things fairly,
And shows good husbandry for the Volscian state,
Fights dragon-like, and does achieve as soon
As draw his sword : yet he hath left undone
That which shall break his neck or hazard mine
Whene'er we come to our account. [Rome ?
Lieu. Sir, I beseech you, think you he'll carry
Auf. All places yield to him ere he sits down ;
And the nobility of Rome are his :
The senators and patricians love him too :
The tribunes are no soldiers ; and their people
Will be as rash in the repeal as hasty
To expel him thence. I think he'll be to Rome
As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it
By sovereignty of nature. First he was
A noble servant to them ; but he could not
Carry his honours even : whether 'twas pride,
Which out of daily fortune ever taints
The happy man; whether defect of judgment,
To fail in the disposing of those chances
Which he was lord of; or whether nature,
Not to be other than one thing, not moving
From the casque to the cushion, but command-
ing peace
Even with the same austerity and garb
As he controll'd the war ; but one of these,
As he hath spices of them all, not all,
For I dare so far free him, made him fear'd,
So hated, and so banish'd : but he has a merit
To choke it in the utterance. So our virtues
Lie in the interpretation of the time :
And power, unto itself most commendable,
Hath not a tomb so evident as a cheer
To extol what it hath done.
One fire drives out one fire ; one nail, one nail ;
Rights by rights falter, strengths by strengths
do fail.
Come , let's away. When , Caius , Rome is thine ,
Thou art poor'st of all ; then shortly art thou
mine. [Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I. ROME. A public Plate.
Enter MENENIUS, COMINIUS, SICINIUS,
BRUTUS, and others.
Men. No, I'll not go: you hear what he
hath said
Which was sometime his general; who lov'd
him
In a most dear particular. He call'd me father :
But what o' that? Go, you that banish'd him;
A mile before his tent fall down, and knee
The way into his mercy : nay, if he coy'd
To hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home.
Com. He would not seem to know me.
Men. Do you hear?
Com. Yet one time he did call me by my
name:
I urg'd our old acquaintance, and the drops
That we have bled together. Coriolanus
He would not answer to : forbad all names ;
He was a kind of nothing, titleless,
Till he had forg'd himself a name o' the fire
Of burning Rome.
Men. Why, so, you have made good work !
A pair of tribunes that have rack'd for Rome,
To make coals cheap, a noble memory !
Com. I minded him how royal 'twas to pardon
When it was less expected : he replied,
It was a bare petition of a state
To one whom they had punish'd.
Men. Very well :
Could he say less ?
Com. I offer'd to awaken his regard
For 's private friends : his answer to me was,
He could not stay to pick them in a pile
Of noisome musty chaff: he said 'twas folly
For one poor grain or two to leave unburnt,
And still to nose the offence.
Men. For one poor grain
Or two ! I am one of those ; his mother, wife,
His child, and this brave fellow too, we are the
grains :
You are the musty chaff; and you are smelt
Above the moon : we must be burnt for you.
Sic. Nay, pray, be patient: if you refuse your
aid
In this so never-heeded help, yet do not
Upbraid 's with our distress. But, sure, if you
Would be your country's pleader ; your good
tongue,
More than the instant army we can make,
Might stop our countryman.
Men. No; I '11 not meddle.
Sic. Pray you, go to him.
Men. What should I do ?
Bru. Only make trial what your love can do
For Rome, towards Marcius.
Men. Well, and say that Marcius
Return me, as Cominius is return'd,
Unheard ; what then ?
But as a discontented friend, grief-shot
With his unkindness ? Say 't be so ?
Sic. Yet your good-will
SCENE II.]
CORIOLANUS.
853
Must have that thanks from Rome, after the
measure
As you intended well.
Men. I'll undertake 't:
I think he '11 hear me. Yet to bite his lip
And hum at good Cominius much unhearts me.
He was not taken well: he had not din'd:
The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then
We pout upon the morning, are unapt
To give or to forgive ; but when we have stuff 'd
These pipes and these conveyances of our blood
With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls
Than in our priest-like fasts : therefore I '11
watch him
Till he be dieted to my request,
And then I '11 set upon him. [ness,
Brti. You know the very road into his kind-
And cannot lose your way.
Men. Good faith, I '11 prove him,
Speed how it will. I shall ere long have
knowledge
Of my success. [Exit.
Com. He '11 never hear him.
Sic. Not?
Com. I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eye
Red as 'twould burn Rome ; and his injury
The gaoler to his pity. I kneel'd before him ;
'Twas very faintly he said Rise ; dismiss'd me
Thus, with his speechless hand : what he would
do, [not,
He sent in writing after me; what he would
Bound with an oath to yield to his conditions :
So that all hope is vain,
Unless in 's noble mother and his wife ;
Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him [hence,
For mercy to his country. Therefore, let's
And with our fair entreaties haste them on.
/. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. An advanced Post of the Volscian
Camp before Rome. The Guard at their stations.
Enter to them MENENIUS.
1 G. Stay : whence are you ?
2 G. Stand, and go back.
Men. You guard like men ; 'tis well : but, by
your leave,
I am an officer of state, and come
To speak with Coriolanus.
i G. From whence ?
Men. From Rome.
1 G. You may not pass, you must return:
our general
Will no more hear from thence. [before
2 G. You '11 see your Rome embrac'd with fire
You '11 speak with Coriolanus.
Men. Good my friends,
If you have heard your general talk of Rome,
And of his friends there, it is lots to blanks
My name hath touch'd your ears : it is Menenius.
i G. Be it so ; go back : the virtue of your
name
Is not here passable.
Men. I tell thee, fellow,
Thy general is my lover : I have been [read
The book of his good acts, whence men have
His fame unparallel'd, haply amplified;
For I have ever verified my friends,
Of whom he's chief, with all the size that verity
Would without lapsing suffer : nay, sometimes,
Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground, [praise
I have tumbled past the throw: and in his
Have almost stamp'd the leasing: therefore,
fellow,
I must have leave to pass.
1 G. Faith, sir, if you had told as many lies
in his behalf as you have utter'd words in your
own, you should not pass here : no, though it
were as virtuous to lie as to live chastely.
Therefore, go back.
Men. Pr'ythee, fellow, remember my name
is Menenius, always factionary on the party of
your general.
2 G. Howsoever you have been his liar, as
you say you have, I am one that, telling true
under him, must say, you cannot pass. There-
fore, go back.
Men. Has he dined, canst thou tell? for I
would not speak with him till after dinner.
I G. You are a Roman, are you ?
Men. I am as thy general is.
1 G. Then you should hate Rome, as he does.
Can you, when you have pushed out your gates
the very defender of them, and, in a violent
popular ignorance, given your enemy your
shield, think to front his revenges with the easy
groans of old women, the virginal palms of your
daughters, or with the palsied intercession of such
a decayed dotant as you seem to be ? Can you
think to blow out the intended fire your city is
ready to flame in, with such weak breath as
this? No, you are deceived; therefore, back
to Rome, and prepare for your execution : you
are condemned ; our general has sworn you out
of reprieve and pardon.
Men. Sirrah, if thy captain knew I were here
he would use me with estimation.
2 G. Come, my captain knows you not.
Men. I mean thy general.
I G. My general cares not for you. Back,
I say ; go, lest I let forth your half pint of
blood; back; that's the utmost of your
having : back.
Men. Nay, but, fellow, fellow,
8 54
CORIOLANUS.
[ACT v.
Enter CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS.
Cor. What 's the matter ?
Men. Now, you companion, I '11 say an errand
for you ; you shall know now that I am in esti-
mation ; you shall perceive that a jack guardant
cannot office me from my son Coriolanus : guess
but by my entertainment with him if thou
standest not i' the state of hanging, or of some
death more long in spectatorshipand crueller in
suffering ; behold now presently, and swoon for
what 's to come upon thee. The glorious gods
sit in hourly synod about thy particular pros-
perity, and love thee no worse than thy old
father Menenius does ! O my son ! my son ! thou
art preparing fire for us ; look thee, here 's water
to quench it. I was hardly moved to come to
thee ; but being assured none but myself could
move thee, I have been blown out of your gates
with sighs ; and conjure thee to pardon Rome
and thy petitionary countrymen. The good
gods assuage thy wrath, and turn the dregs of
it upon this varlet here ; this, who, like a block,
hath denied my access to thee.
Cor. Away!
Men. How ! away ! [affairs
Cor. Wife, mother, child, I know not. My
Are servanted to others : though I owe
My revenge properly, my remission lies
In Volscian breasts. That we have been
familiar,
Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison, rather
Than pity note how much. Therefore, be gone.
Mine ears against your suits are stronger than
Your gates against my force. Yet, for I lov'd thee,
Take this along ; I writ it for thy sake,
[Gives a letter.
And would have sent it. Another word, Men-
enius,
I will not hear thee speak. This man, Aufidius,
Was my beloved in Rome : yet thou behold'st !
Auf. You keep a constant temper.
[Exeunt COR. and AUF.
1 G. Now, sir, is your name Menenius ?
2 G. 'Tis a spell, you see, of much power :
you know the way home again.
1 G. Do you hear how we are shent for keep-
ing your greatness back ?
2 G. What cause,do you think, I ha veto swoon?
Men. I neither care for the world nor your
general: for such things as you, I can scarce
think there's any, ye 're so slight. He that
hath a will to die by himself fears it not from
another. Let your general do his worst. For
you, be that, you are, long; and your misery
increase with your age ! I say to you, as I was
said to, away ! [Exit.
1 G. A noble fellow, I warrant him.
2 G. The worthy fellow is our general : he is
the rock, the oak not to be wind-shaken.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. The Tent of CORIOLANUS.
Enter CORIOLANUS, AUFIDIUS, and others.
Cor. We will before the walls of Rome to-
morrow
Set down our host. My partner in this action,
You must report to the Volscian lords how
plainly
I have borne this business.
Auf. Only their ends
You have respected ; stopp'd your ears against
The general suit of Rome ; never admitted
A private whisper, no, not with such friends
That thought them sure of you.
Cor. This last old man,
Whom with a crack'd heart I have sent to Rome,
Lov'd me above the measure of a father ;
Nay, godded me, indeed. Their latest refuge
Was to send him ; for whose old love I have,
Though I show'd sourly to him, once more
offer'd
The first conditions, which they did refuse,
And cannot now accept, to grace him only,
That thought he could do more, a very little
I have yielded to : fresh embassies and suits,
Nor from the state nor private friends, hereafter
Will I lend ear to. Ha! what shout is this?
[Shout within.
Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow
In the same time 'tis made? I will not.
Enter, in mourning habits, VIRGILIA, VOLUM-
NIA, leading young MARCIUS, VALERIA, and
Attendants.
My wife comes foremost; then the honour'd
mould
Wherein this trunk was fram'd, and in her hand
The grandchild to her blood. But, out, affection !
All bond and privilege of nature, break !
Let it be virtuous to be obstinate. [eyes,
What is that curt'sy worth? or those doves'
Which can make gods forsworn? I melt, and
am not [bows,
Of stronger earth than others. My mother
As if Olympus to a molehill should
In supplication nod : and my young boy
Hath an aspect of intercession which
Great nature cries, Deny not. Let the Volsces
Plough Rome and harrow Italy : I '11 never
Be such a gosling to obey instinct ; but stand,
As if a man were author of himself,
And knew no other kin.
SCENE III.]
CORIOLANUS.
8S5
Vir.
My lord and husband !
Cor, These eyes are not the same I wore in
Rome.
Vir. The sorrow that delivers us thus chang'd
Makes you think so.
'Cor. Like a dull actor now,
I have forgot my part, and I am out,
Even to a full disgrace. Best of my flesh,
Forgive my tyranny ; but do not say,
For that, Forgive our Romans. O, a kiss
Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge ;
Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss
I carried from thee, dear ; and my true lip
Hath virgin'd it e'er since. You gods ! I prate,
And the most noble mother of the world
Leave unsaluted : sink, my knee, i' the earth ;
{Kneels.
Of thy deep duty more impression show
Than that of common sons.
Vol. O, stand up bless'd !
Whilst, with no softer cushion than the flint,
I kneei before thee; and unproperly
Show duty, as mistaken all this while
Between the child and parent. \_Kneels.
Cor. What is this?
Your knees to me? to your corrected son?
Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach
Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds
Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun ;
Murdering impossibility, to make
What cannot be, slight work.
Vol. Thou art my warrior ;
I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady?
Cor. The noble sister of Publicola,
The moon of Rome ; chaste as the icicle
That 's curded by the frost from purest snow,
And hangs on Dian's temple : dear Valeria !
Vol. This is a poor epitome of yours,
Which, by the interpretation of full time,
May show like all yourself.
Cor. The god of soldiers,
With the consent of supreme Jove, inform
Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou mayst
prove
To shame unvulnerable, and stick i' the wars
Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw,
And saving those that eye thee !
Vol. Your knee, sirrah.
Cor. That 's my brave boy. [self,
Vol. Even he, your wife, this lady, and my-
Are suitor.; to you.
. Cor. I beseech you, peace :
Or, if you'd ask, remember this before,
The things I have forsworn to grant may never
Be held by you denials. Do not bid me
Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate
Again with Rome's mechanics. Tell me not
Wherein I seem unnatural: desire not
To allay my rages and revenges with
Your colder reasons.
Vol. O, no more, no more !
You have said you will not grant us anything;
For we have nothing else to ask but that
Which you deny already : yet we will ask ;
That, if you fail in our request, the blame
May hang upon your hardness; therefore hear
us. [we '11
Cor. Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark : for
Hear naught from Rome in private. Your
request? [raiment
Vol. Should we be silent and not speak, our
And state of bodies would bewray what life
We have led since thy exile. Think with thy-
self,
How more unfortunate than all living women
Are we come hither: since that thy sight,
which should [comforts,
Make our yes flow with joy, hearts dance with
Constrains them weep, and shake with fear and
sorrow ;
Making the mother, wife, and child to see
The son, the husband, and the father tearing
His country's bowels out. And to poor we,
Thine enmity's most capital : thou barr'st us
Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort
That all but we enjoy ; for how can we,
Alas, how can we for our country pray,
Whereto we are bound, together with thy
victory,
Whereto we are bound? alack, or we must lose
The country, our dear nurse; or else thy person,
Our comfort in the country. We must find
An evident calamity, though we had [thou
Our wish, which side should win; for either
Must, as a foreign recreant, be led
With manacles thorough our streets, or else
Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin,
And bear the palm for having bravely shed
Thy wife and children's blood. P'or myself, son,
I purpose not to wait on fortune till [thee
These war,s determine: if I cannot persuade
Rather to show a noble grace to both parts
Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner
March to assault thy country than to tread,
Trust to't, thou shalt not, on thy mother's
womb,
That brought thee to this world.
Vir. Ay, and mine,
That brought you forth this boy, to keep your
name
Living to time.
Boy. 'A shall not tread on me ;
I '11 run away till I am bigger ; but then 1 11
fight.
856
CORIOLANUS.
[ACT v.
Cor. Not of a woman's tenderness to be,
Requires nor child nor woman's face to see.
I have sat too long. [Rising.
Vol. Nay, go not from us thus.
If it were so that our request did tend
To save the Romans, thereby to destroy
The Volsces whom you serve, you might
condemn us,
As poisonous of your honour : no ; our suit
Is, that you reconcile them : while the Volsces
May say, This mercy we have showed; the
Romans,
This we received ; and each in either side
Give thee all-hail to thee, and cry, Be blessed
For making up this peace! Thou know'st,
great son,
The end of war 's uncertain ; but this certain,
That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit
Which thou shall thereby reap is such a name,
Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses ;
Whose chronicle thus writ, The manwas noble,
But with his last attempt he wifid it out;
Destroyed his country ; and his name remains
To the ensuing age abhorr'd. Speak to me, son :
Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour,
To imitate the graces of the gods,
To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' the air,
And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt
That should but rive an oak. Why dost not
speak?
Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man
Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speak
you : [boy :
He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou,
Perhaps thy childishness will move him more
Than can our reasons. There is no man in the
world [prate
More bound to his mother ; yet here he lets me
Like one i' the stocks. Thou hast never in
thy life
Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy ;
Whenshe, poor hen, fond of no second brood,
Has cluck'd thee to the wars, and safely home,
Loaden with honour. Say my request 's unjust,
And spurn me back: but if it be not so,
Thou art not honest ; and the gods will plague
thee,
That thou restrain'st from me the duty which
To a mother's part belongs. He turns away:
Down, ladies ; let us shame him with our knees.
To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride
Than pity to our prayers. Down : an end ;
This is the last. So we will home to Rome,
And die among our neighbours. Nay, behold's:
This boy, that cannot tell what he would have,
But kneels and holds up hands for fellowship,
Does reason our petition with more strength
Than thou hast to deny't. Come, let us go:
This fellow had a Volscian to his mother ;
His wife is in Corioli, and his child
Like him by chance. Yet give us our despatch :
I am hush'd until our city be afire,
And then I '11 speak a little.
Cor. [After holding VOLUMNIA by the hands
in silence.'} O mother, mother!
What have you done? Behold, the heavens do
ope,
The gods look down, and this unnatural scene
They laugh at. O my mother, mother ! O !
You have won a happy victory to Rome ;
But for your son, believe it, O, believe it,
Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd,
If not most mortal to him. But let it come.
Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars,
I'll frame convenient peace. Now,good Aufidius,
If you were in my stead, would you have heard
A mother less? or granted less, Aufidius?
Auf. I was mov'd withal.
Cor. I dare be sworn you were:
And, sir, it is no little thing to make
Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir,
What peace you '11 make, advise me: for my part,
I '11 not to Rome, I '11 back with you ; and, pray
you,
Stand to me in this cause. O mother ! wife !
Auf. I am glad thou hast set thy mercy and
thy honour
At difference in thee : out of that I '11 work
Myself a former fortune. [Aside.
[The Ladies make signs to CORIOLANUS.
Cor. Ay, by and by ;
[To VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, &:.
But we '11 drink together ; and you shall bear
A better witness back than words, which we,
On like conditions, will have counter-seal'd.
Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve
To have a temple built you: all the swords
In Italy, and her confederate arms,
Could not have made this peace. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. ROME. A public Place.
Enter MENENIUS and SICINIUS.
Men. See you yond coigne o' the Capitol,
yond corner-stone?
Sic. Why, what of that?
Men. If it be possible for you to displace it
with your little finger, there is some hope the
ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may
prevail with him. But I say there is no hope
in 't : our throats are sentenced, and stay upon
execution.
Sic. Is't possible that so short a time can
alter the condition of a man?
SCENE IV.]
CORIOLANUS.
857
Men. There is differency between a grub and
a butterfly; yet your butterfly was a grub.
This Marcius is grown from man to dragon : he
has wings ; he 's more than a creeping thing.
Sic. He loved his mother dearly.
Men. So did he me: and he no more
remembers his mother now than an eight-year-
old horse. The tartness of his face sours ripe
grapes: when he walks, he moves like an
engine, and the ground shrinks before his
treading: he is able to pierce a corslet with his
eye; talks like a knell, and his hum is a
battery. He sits in his state as a thing made
for Alexander. What he bids be done is
finished with his bidding. He wants nothing
of a god but eternity, and a heaven to throne in.
Sic. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly.
Men. I paint him in the character. Mark
what mercy his mother shall bring from him :
there is no more mercy in him than there is
milk in a male tiger ; that shall our poor city
find : and all this is 'long of you.
Sic. The gods be good unto us !
Men. No, in such a case the gods will not
be good unto us. When we banished him we
respected not them : and, he returning to break
our necks, they respect not us.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Sir, if you 'd save your life, fly to your
house :
The plebeians have got your fellow-tribune,
And hale him up and down ; all swearing, if
The Roman ladies bring not comfort home,
They '11 give him death by inches.
Enter a second Messenger.
Sic. What 's the news?
2 Mess. Good news, good news ; the ladies
have prevail'd,
The Volscians are dislodg'd and Marcius gone :
A merrier day did never yet greet Rome,
No, not the expulsion of the Tarquins.
Sic. Friend,
Art thou certain this is true? is it most certain?
2 Mess. As certain as I know the sun is fire :
Where have you hirk'd, that you make doubt
of it? [tide
Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown
As the recomforted through the gates. Why,
hark you !
[ Trumpets and hautboys sounded, drums
beat 'en , and shouting within.
The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes,
Tabors and cymbals, and the shouting Romans,
Make the sun dance. Hark you !
[Shouting again.
Men. This is good news.
I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia
Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians,
A city full : of tribunes such as you, [to-day:
A sea and land full. You have pray'd well
This morning, for ten thousand of your throats
I 'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy 1
[Shouting- and music.
Sic. First, the gods bless you for your
tidings ; next,
Accept my thankfulness.
2 Mess. Sir, we have all
Great cause to give great thanks.
Sic. They are near the city?
Mess. Almost at point to enter.
Sic. We will meet them,
And help the joy. {Exeunt.
SCENE V. ROME. A Street near the Gate.
Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGII.IA, VALERIA, &Y.,
accompanied by Senators, Patricians, and
Citizens.
i Sen. Behold our patroness, the life of Rome!
Call all your tribes together, praise the gods,
And make triumphant fires; strew flowers
before them :
Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius,
Repeal him with the welcome of his mother;
Cry, Welcome , ladies , welcome!
All. Welcome, ladies,
Welcome !
[A flourish with drums and trumpets.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI. ANTITJM. A public Place.
Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, with Attendants.
Auf. Go tell the lords of the city I am here :
Deliver them this paper ; having read it,
Bid them repair to the market-place: where I,
Even in theirs and in the commons' ears,
Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse
The city ports by this hath enter'd, and
Intends to appear before the people, hoping
To purge himself with words : despatch.
[Exeunt Attendants.
Enter three or four Conspirators of AUFIDIUS'S
faction.
Most welcome !
1 Con. How is it with our general ?
Auf. Even so
As with a man by his own alms empoison'd,
And with his charity slain.
2 Con. Most noble sir,
If you do hold the same intent wherein
You wish'd us parties, we '11 deliver you
Of your great danger.
CORIOLANUS.
[ACT v.
Auf. Sir, I cannot tell:
We must proceed as we do find the people.
3 Con. The people will remain uncertain
whilst [either
'Twixt you there 's difference : but the fall of
Makes the survivor heir of all.
Auf. I know it;
And my pretext to strike at him admits
A good construction. I rais'd him, and I
pawn'd [heighten'd,
Mine honour for his truth: who being so
He water'd his new plants with dews of flattery,
Seducing so my friends ; and to this end
He bow'd his nature, never known before
But to be rough, unswayable, and free.
3 Con. Sir, his stoutness,
When he did stand for consul, which he lost
By lack of stooping,
Auf. That I would have spoke of:
Being banish'd for 't, he came unto my hearth ;
Presented to my knife his throat : I took him ;
Made him joint-servant with me ; gave him way
In all his own desires; nay, let him choose
Out of my files, his projects to accomplish,
My best and freshest men ; serv'd his design-
ments
In mine own person ; holp to reap the fame
Which he made all his ; and took some pride
To do myself this wrong : till, at the last,
I seem'd his follower, not partner; and
He wagfd me with his countenance as if
I had been mercenary.
I Con. So he did, my lord :
The army marvell'd at it ; and, in the last,
When he had carried Rome, and that we look'd
For no less spoil than glory,
Auf. There was it ;
For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon
him.
At a few drops of women's rheum, which are
As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour
Of our great action : therefore shall he die,
And I '11 renew me in his fall. But, hark !
[Drums and trumpets sotmd, with great
shouts of the people.
1 Con. Your native town you enter'd like a
post,
And had no welcomes home ; but he returns
Splitting the air with noise.
2 Con. And patient fools,
Whose children he hath slain, their base throats
tear
With giving him glory.
3 Con. Therefore, at your vantage,
Ere he express himself, or move the people
With what he would say, let him feel your sword,
Which we will second. When he lies along,
After your way his tale pronounc'd shall bury
His reasons with his body.
Auf. Say no more :
Here come the lords.
Enter the Lords of the City.
Lords. You are most welcome home.
Auf. I have not deserv'd it.
But, worthy lords, have you with heed perus'd
What I have written to you?
Lords. We have.
I Lord. And grieve to hear 't.
What faults he made before the last, I think
Might have found easy fines : but there to end
Where he was to begin, and give away
The benefit of our levies, answering us
With our own charge : making a treaty where
There was a yielding. This admits no excuse.
Auf. He approaches : you shall hear him.
Enter CORIOLANUS, with drums and colours ;
a crowd of Citizens with him.
Cor. Hail, lords ! I am return'd your soldier ;
No more infected with my country's love
Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting
Under your great command. You are to know
That prosperously I have attempted, and
With bloody passage led your wars even to
The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have
brought home
Do more than counterpoise a full third part
The charges of the action. We have made pe;
With no less honour to the Antiates
Than shame to the Romans: and we here
deliver,
Subscribed by the consuls and patricians,
Together with the seal o' the senate, what
We have compounded on.
Auf. Read it not, noble lords ;
But tell the traitor, in the highest degree
He hath abus'd your powers.
Cor. Traitor ! How now !
Auf. Ay, traitor, Marcius.
Cor. Marcius !
Auf. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius. Dost
thou think
I'll grace thee with that r6bbery, thy stol'n
name
Coriolanus in Corioli ?
You lords and heads o' the state, perfidiously
He has betray'd your business, and given up,
For certain drops of salt, your city Rome,
I say your city, to his wife and mother;
Breaking his oath and resolution, like
A twist of rotten silk ; never admitting
Counsel o' the war ; but at his nurse's tears
He whin'd and roar'd away your victory;
peace
SCENE VI.]
CORIOLANTJS.
859
That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart
Look'd wondering each at other.
Cor. Hear'st thou, Mars?
Auf. Name not the god, thou boy of tears,
Cor. Ha !
Atif. No more.
Cor. Measureless liar, thou hast made my
heart [slave !
Too great for what contains it. Boy ! O
Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever
I was forc'd to scold. Your judgments, my
grave lords,
Must give this cur the lie : and his own notion,
Who wears my stripes impress'd upon him;
that must bear
My beating to his grave, shall join to thrust
The lie unto him.
1 Lord. Peace, both, and hear me speak.
Cor. Cut me to pieces, Volsces; men and lads,
Stain all your edges on me. Boy ! False hound !
If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,
That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I
Flutter' d your Volscians in Corioli :
Alone I did it. Boy !
Auf. Why, noble lords,
Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune,
Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart,
'Fore your own eyes and ears?
Conspirators. Let him die for 't.
Citizens. Tear him to pieces, do it presently:
he killed my son ; my daughter ; he killed my
cousin Marcus ; he killed my father,
2 Lord. Peace, ho ! no outrage ; peace !
The man is noble, and his fame folds in
This orb o' the earth. His last offences to us
Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius,
And trouble not the peace.
Cor. O that I had him,,
With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe,
To use my lawful sword !
Auf. Insolent villain !
Conspirators. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him!
[AUF. and the Conspirators draw, and kill
COR., who falls: AUF. stands on him.
Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold !
Atif. My noble masters, hear me speak.
1 Lord. O Tullus,
2 Lord. Thou hast done a deed whereat
valour will weep. [quiet ;
3 Lord. Tread not upon him. Masters all, be
Put up your swords. [this rage,
Auf. My lords, when you shall know, as in
Provok'd by him, you cannot, the great danger
Which this man's life did owe you, you '11 rejoice
That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours
To call me to your senate, I '11 deliver
Myself your loyal servant, or endure
Your heaviest censure.
1 Lord. Bear from hence his body,
And mourn you for him. Let him be regarded
As the most noble corse that ever herald
Did follow to his urn.
2 Lord. His own impatience
Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame.
Let 's make the best of it
Auf. My rage is gone;
And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up:
Help, three o' the chiefest soldiers ; I '11 be one.
Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully:
Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he
Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one,
Which to this hour bewail the injury,
Yet he shall have a noble memory.
Assist.
[Exeunt, bearing the
A dead march sounded.
W .tiftk
JULIUS C^SAR.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
JULIUS OESAR.
OCTAVIUS CESAR,
MARCUS ANTONIUS,
M. yMiL. LEPIDUS,
CICERO, ^
PUBLIUS, \Senators.
POPILIUS LENA, J
MARCUS BRUTUS,
CASSIUS,
CASCA,
TREBONIUS,
LIGARIUS,
DECIUS BRUTUS,
METELLUS CIMBER,
ClNNA,
Triumvirs after the
death of JULIUS
CESAR.
Conspirators against
JULIUS CESAR.
FLAVIUS and MARULLUS, Tribunes.
ARTEMIDORUS, a Sophist of Cnidos.
A Soothsayer.
CINNA, a Poet.
Another Poet.
LUCILIUS, TITINIUS MESSALA, YOUNG CATO,
and VOLUMNIUS, Friends to BRUTUS and
CASSIUS.
VARRO, CLITUS, CLAUDIUS, STRATO, Lucius,
DARDANIUS, Servants to BRUTUS.
PINDARUS, Servant to CASSIUS.
CALPHURNIA, Wife to CESAR.
PORTIA, Wife to BRUTUS.
Senators, Citizens, Guards, Attendants,
SCENE, Dtiring a great part of the Play at ROME ; afterwards at SARDIS, and near PHILIPPI.
ACT I.
SCENE I. ROME. A Street.
Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and a rabble of
Citizens.
Flav. Hence ! home, you idle creatures, get
you home:
Is this a holiday? What ! know you not,
Being mechanical, you ought not walk
Upon a labouring day without the sign
Of your profession ? Speak, what trade art thou ?
1 Cit. Why, sir, a carpenter. [rule ?
Mar. Where is thy leather apron and thy
What dost thou with thy best apparel on?
You, sir, what trade are you? [man,
2 Cit. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine work-
I am but, as you would say, a cobbler.
Mar. But what trade art thou? answer me
directly.
2 Cit. A trade, sir, that I hope I may use
with a safe conscience ; which is indeed, sir, a
mender of bad soles.
Mar. What trade, thou knave, thou naughty
knave, what trade?
2 Cit. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out
with me : yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend
you.
Mar. What meanest thou by that? mend me,
thou saucy fellow !
2 Cit. Why, sir, cobble you.
Flav. Thou art a cobbler, art thou?
2 Cit. Truly, sir, all that I live by is with
the awl : I meddle with no tradesman's matters,
nor women's matters, but with awl. I am,
indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they
are in great danger, I re-cover them. As
proper men as ever trod upon neats-leather
have gone upon my handiwork.
Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-
day?
Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?
2 Cit. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to
get myself into more work. But, indeed, sir,
we make holiday to see Caesar, and to rejoice
in his triumph.
Mar. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest
brings he home?
What tributaries follow him to Rome,
To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels?
You blocks, you stones, you worse than sense-
less things !
O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,
Knew you not Pompey ? Many a time and oft
Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements,
To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops,
Your infants in your arms, and there have sat
The live-long day, with patient expectation,
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome :
And when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an universal shout,
That Tiber trembled underneath her banks,
SCENE II.]
JULIUS CAESAR.
861
To hear the replication of your sounds
Made in her concave shores?
And do you now put on your best attire?
And do you now cull out a holiday?
And do you now strew flowers in his way
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?
Be gone !
Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the gods to intermit the plague
That needs must light on this ingratitude.
. Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and for
this fault
Assemble all the poor men of your sort ;
Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears
Into the channel, till the lowest stream
Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.
[Exeunt Citizens.
See, whe'r their basest metal be not mov'd ;
They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness.
Go you down that way towards the Capitol :
This way will I : disrobe the images
If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies.
Mar. May we do so?
You know it is the feast of Lupercal.
Flav. It is no matter ; let no images
Be hung with Caesar's trophies. I '11 about,
And drive away the vulgar from the streets:
So do you too, where you perceive them thick.
These growing feathers pluck'd from Caesar's
wing
Will make him fly an ordinary pitch ;
Who else would soar above the view of men,
And keep us all in servile fearfulness.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. ROME. A public Place.
Enter^ in procession, with music, CAESAR;
ANTONY, for the cotirse ; CALPHURNIA,
PORTIA, DECIUS, CICERO, BRUTUS, CASSIUS,
and CASCA ; a great crowd following: among
them a Soothsayer.
Cas. Calphurnia,
Casca. Peace, ho ! Caesar speaks.
[Music ceases.
Cas. Calphurnia,
Cal. Here, my lord.
Czs. Stand you directly in Antonius' way
When he doth run his course. Antonius.
Ant. Caesar, my lord.
Cas. Forget not, in your speed, Antonius,
To touch Calphurnia; for our elders say,
The barren, touched in this holy chase,
Shake off their sterile curse.
Ant. I shall remember :
When Caesar says, Do this, it is perform'd.
Cas. Set on ; and leave no ceremony out.
[Music.
Sooth. Caesar !
Cas. Ha ! who calls?
Casca. Bid every noise be still. Peace yet
again. [Music ceases.
Cas. Who is it in the press that calls on me?
I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music,
Cry, Ccesar. Speak ; Caesar is turn'd to hear.
Sooth. Beware the ides of March.
Cas. What man is that?
Bru. A soothsayer bids you beware the ides
of March.
Cas. Set him before me ; let me see his face.
Cas. Fellow, come from the throng; look
upon Caesar.
Cas. What say'st thou to me now? speak
once again.
Sooth. Beware the ides of March. [Pass.
Cas. He is a dreamer; let us leave him.
[Sennet. Exeunt all but BRU. and CAS.
Cas. Will you go see the order of the course?
Bru. Not I.
Cas. I pray you do. [part
Bru. I am not gamesome : I do lack some
Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.
Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires ;
I '11 leave you.
Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late :
I have not from your eyes that gentleness
And show of love as I was wont to have :
You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand
Over your friend that loves you.
Bru. Cassius,
Be not deceiv'd : if I have vail'd my look,
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Merely upon myself. Vexed I am
Of late with passions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself, [haviours;
Which gives some soil, perhaps, to my be-
But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd,
Among which number, Cassius, be you one,
Nor construe any further my neglect
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the shows of love to other men.
Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook
your passion ;
By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried
Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face ?
Bru. No, Cassius ; for the eye sees not itself
But by reflection, by some other things.
Cas. 'Tisjust:
And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you have no such mirrors as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
That you might see your shadow. I have heard,
Where many of the best respect in Rome,
Except immortal Caesar, speaking of Brutus,
862
JULIUS CESAR.
[ACT i.
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes.
Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me,
Cassius,
That you would have me seek into myself
For that which is not in me ? [hear :
Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to
And, since you know you cannot see yourself
So well as by reflection, I, your glass,
Will modestly discover to yourself
That of yourself v/hich you yet know not of.
And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus:
Were I a common laugher, or did use
To stale with ordinary oaths my love
To every new protester ; if you know
That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,
And after scandal them ; or if you know
That I profess myself in banqueting
To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.
[Flourish and shout.
Bru. What means this shouting ? I do fear
the people
Choose Caesar for their king.
Cas. Ay, do you fear it ?
Then must I think you would not have it so.
Bru. I would not, Cassius; yet I love him
well.
But wherefore do you hold me here so long ?
What is it that you would impart to me ?
If it be aught toward the general good,
Set honour in one eye and death r the other,
And I will look on both indifferently;
For, let the gods so speed me as I love
The name of honour more than I fear death.
Cas. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,
As well as I do know your outward favour.
Well, honour is the subject of my story.
I cannot tell what you and other men
Think of this life ; but, for my single self,
I had as lief not be as live to be
In awe of such a thing as I myself.
I was born free as Caesar ; so were you :
We both have fed as well ; and we can both
Endure the winter's cold as well as he.
For once, upon a raw and gusty day,
The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,
Caesar said to me, Dar>st thou, Cassius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood,
And swim to yonder point ? Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,
And bade him follow : so indeed he did.
The torrent roar'd ; and we did buffet it
With lusty sinews, throwing it aside
And stemming it with hearts of controversy :
But ere we could arrive the point propos'd,
Caesar cried, Help me, Cassius, or f sink!
I, as ^neas, our great ancestor,
Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder
The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of
Tiber
Did I the tired Caesar : and this man
Is now become a god ; and Cassius is
A wretched creature, and must bend his body
If Caesar carelessly but nod on him.
He had a fever when he was in Spain,
And, when the fit was on him, I did mark
How he did shake : 'tis true, this god did shake :
His coward lips did from their colour fly;
And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the
world,
Did lose his lustre : I did hear him groan :
Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans
Mark him, and write his speeches in their books,
Alas ! it cried, Give me some drink, Titinius,
As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me,
A man of such a feeble temper should
So get the start of the majestic world,
And bear the palm alone. [Shout : flourish.
Bru. Another general shout !
I do believe that these applauses are
For some new honours that are heap'd on Caesar.
Cas. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow
world
Like a Colossus ; and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about
To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
Men at some time are masters of their fates:
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
Brutus and Caesar: what should be in that
Caesar ? [yours ?
Why should that name be sounded more than
Write them together, yours is as fair a name ;
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well ;
Weigh them, it is as heavy ; conjure with 'em,
Brutus will starta spirit as soon as Caesar. [Shout.
Now, in the names of all the gods at once,
Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed,
That he has grown so great? Age, thou art
sham'd !
Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods !
When went there by an age, since the great flood,
But it was fam'd with more than with one man ?
When could they say, till now, that talk'd of
Rome,
That her wide walls encompass'd but one man ?
Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough,
When there is in it but one only man.
O ! you and I have heard our fathers say,
There was a Brutus once that would have brook'd
The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome
As easily as a king. [jealous ;
Bru. That you do love me, I am nothing
What you would work me to, I have some aim :
SCENE II.]
JULIUS CESAR.
863
How I have thought of this, and of these times,
I shall recount hereafter; for this present,
I would not, so with love I might entreat you,
Be any further mov'd. What you have said
I will consider ; what you have to say
I will with patience hear : and find a time
Both meet to hear and answer such high things.
Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this ;
Brutus had rather be a villager
Than to repute himself a son of Rome
Under these hard conditions as this time
Is like to lay upon us.
Cas. I am glad that my weak words
Have struck but thus much show of fire from
Brutus.
Bru. The games are done, and Caesar is re-
turning.
Cas. As they pass by, pluck Casca by the
sleeve ;
And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you
What hath proceeded worthy note to-day.
Re-enter CAESAR and his Train.
Bru. I will do so. But, look you, Cassius,
The angry spot doth glow on Caesar's brow,
And all the rest look like a chidden train:
Calphurnia's cheek is pale ; and Cicero
Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes
As we have seen him in the Capitol,
Being crossed in conference by some senators.
Cas. Casca will tell us what the matter is.
Cces. Antonius.
Ant. Caesar?
Cas. Let me have men about me that are fat ;
Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights:
Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look ;
He thinks too much : such men are dangerous.
Ant. Fear him not, Caesar, he 's not danger-
ous;
He is a noble Roman, and well given.
Cces. Would he were fatter ! But I fear him
not:
Yet if my name were liable to fear,
I do not know the man I should avoid
So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much ;
He is a great observer, and he looks
Quite through the deeds of men : he loves no
plays,
As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music:
Seldom he smiles ; and smiles in such a sort
As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit
That could be mov'd to smile at anything.
Such men as he be never at heart's ease
Whiles they behold a greater than themselves;
And therefore are they very dangerous.
I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd
Than what I fear, for always I am Caesar.
Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf,
And tell me truly what thou think'st of him.
[Exeunt CJESKK and STRAIN. CASCA
stays behind.
Casca. You pull'd me by the cloak ; would
you speak with me? [to-day,
Bru. Ay, Casca ; tell us what hath chanc'd
That Caesar looks so sad? [not?
Casca. Why, you were with him, were you
Bru. I should not then ask Casca what had
chanc'd.
Casca. Why, there was a crown offered him:
and being offered him, he put it by with the
back of his hand, thus ; and then the people
fell a-shouting.
Bru. What was the second noise for?
Casca. Why, for that too. [cry for?
Cas. They shouted thrice : what was the last
Casca. Why, for that too.
Bru. Was the crown offer'd him thrice?
Casca. Ay, marry, was 't, and he put it by
thrice, every time gentler than other; and at
every putting by mine honest neighbours
shouted.
Cas. Who offered him the crown?
Casca, Why, Antony.
Bru. Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca.
Casca. I can as well be hanged as tell the
manner of it : it was mere foolery ; I did not
mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown ;
yet 'twas not a crown neither, 'twas one of
these coronets; and, as I told you, he put it
by once : but, for all that, to my thinking, he
would fain have had it. Then he offered it to
him again; then he put it by again: but, to
my thinking, he was very loth to lay his fingers
off it. And then he offered it the third time ;
he put it the third time by : and still, as he
refused it, the rabblement hooted, and clapped
their chapped hands, and threw up their sweaty
night-caps, and uttered such a deal of stinking
breath because Caesar refused the crown, that
it had almost choked Caesar; for he swooned,
and fell down at it : and for mine own part I
durst not laugh, for fear of opening my lips
and receiving the bad air.
Cas. But, soft, I pray you : what, did Caesar
swoon?
Casca. He fell down in the market-place, and
foamed at mouth, and was speechless.
Bru. 'Tis very like, he hath the falling
sickness.
Cas. No, Caesar hath it not ; but you, and I,
And honest Casca, we have the falling sickness.
Casca. I know not what you mean by that ;
but I am sure Caesar fell down. If the tag-rag
people did not clap him and hiss him, according
86 4
JULIUS C^SAR.
[ACT i.
as he pleased and displeased them, as they use
to do the players in the theatre, I am no true
man. [self?
Bru. What said he when he came unto him-
Casca. Marry, before he fell down, when he
perceived the common herd was glad he refused
the crown, he plucked me ope his doublet, and
offered them his throat to cut. An I had been
a man of any occupation, if I would not have
taken him at a word, I would I might go to hell
among the rogues. And so he fell. When he
came to himself again, he said, If he had done
or said anything amiss, he desired their worships
to think it was his infirmity. Three or four
wenches, where I stood, cried, Alas, good soul!
and forgave him with all their hearts : but
there 's no heed to be taken of them ; if Caesar
had stabbed their mothers they would have done
no less.
Brzi. And after that he came, thus sad, away?
Casca. Ay.
Cas. Did Cicero say anything?
Casca. Ay, he spoke Greek.
Cas. To what effect?
Casca. Nay, an I tell you that, I'll ne'er
look you i' the face again: but those that
understood him smiled at one another, and shook
their heads ; but, for mine own part, it was Greek
to me. I could tell you more news too : Mar-
ullus and Flavius, for pulling scarfs off Caesar's
images, are put to silence. Fare you well.
There was more foolery yet, if I could re-
member it.
Cas. Will you sup with me to-night, Casca?
Casca. No, I am promised forth.
Cas. Will you dine with me to-morrow?
Casca. Ay, if I be alive, and your mind hold,
and your dinner worth the eating.
Cas. Good ; I will expect you.
Casca. Do so : farewell, both. [Exit.
Bru. What a blunt fellow is this grown to be !
He was quick mettle when he went to school.
Cas. So is he now, in execution
Of any bold or noble enterprise,
However he puts on this tardy form.
This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit,
Which gives men stomach to digest his words
With better appetite. [you :
' Bru. And so it is. For this time I will leave
To-morrow, if you please to speak with me,
I will come home to you ; or, if you will,
Come home to me, and I will wait for you.
Cas. I will do so : till then, think of the
world. [Exit BRUTUS.
Well, Brutus, thou art noble ; yet, I see,
Thy honourable metal may be wrought
From that it is dispos'd : therefore it is meet
That noble minds keep ever with their likes ;
For who so firm that cannot be seduc'd?
Caesar doth bear me hard ; but he loves Brutus:
If I were Brutus now, and he were Cassius,
He should not humour me. I will this night,
In several hands, in at his windows throw,
As if they came from several citizens,
Writings, all tending to the great opinion
That Rome holds of his name; wherein ob-
scurely
Caesar's ambition shall be glanced at :
And, after this, let Caesar seat him sure ;
For we will shake him, or worse days endure.
[Exit.
SCENE III. ROME. A Street.
Thunder and Lightning. Enter, from opposite
sides, CASCA, with his sword drawn, and
CICERO.
Cic. Good-even, Casca : brought you Caesar
home?
Why are you breathless? and why stare you so?
Casca. Are not you mov'd, when all the sway
of earth
Shakes like a thing unfirm? O Cicero,
I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds
Have riv'd the knotty oaks ; and I have seen
The ambitious ocean swell, and rage, and foam,
To be exalted with the threat'ning clouds :
But never till to-night, never till now,
Did I go through a tempest dropping fire.
Either there is a civil strife in heaven ;
Or else the world, too saucy with the gods,
Incenses them to send destruction.
Cic. Why, saw you anything more wonderful ?
Casca. A common slave, you know him well
by sight,
his left
Held up his left hand, which did flame and burn
Like twenty torches join'd ; and yet his hand,
Not sensible of fire, remain'd unscorch'd.
Besides, I ha' not since put up my sword,
Against the Capitol I met a lion,
Who glar'd upon me, and went surly by,
Without annoying me : and there were drawn
Upon a heap a hundred ghastly women,
Transformed with their fear ; who swore they
saw
Men, all in fire, walk up and down the streets.
And yesterday the bird of night did sit,
Even at noon-day, upon the market-place,
Hooting and shrieking. When these prodigies
Do so conjointly meet, let not men say,
These are their reasons, they are natural;
For I believe they are portentous things
Unto the climate that they point upon.
Cic. Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time:
SCENE III.]
JULIUS CESAR.
865
But men may construe things after their fashion,
Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.
Comes Caesar to the Capitol to-morrow?
Casca. He doth ; for he did bid Antonius
Send word to you he would be there to-morrow.
Cic. Good-night, then, Casca : this disturbed
sky
Is not to walk in.
Casca, Farewell, Cicero. [Exit CICERO.
Enter CASSIUS.
Cas. Who's there?
Casca. A Roman.
Cas. Casca, by your voice.
Casca. Your ear is good. Cassius, what
night is this !
Cas. A very pleasing night to honest men.
Casca. Who ever knew the heavens menace
so? [of faults.
Cas. Those that have known the earth so full
For my part, I have walk'd about the streets,
Submitting me unto the perilous night ;
And, thus unbraced, Casca, as you see,
Have bar'd my bosom to the thunder-stone :
And when the cross-blue lightning seem'd to
open
The breast of heaven, I did present myself
Even in the aim and very flash of it.
Casca. But wherefore did you so much tempt
the heavens?
It is the part of men to fear and tremble
When the most mighty gods, by tokens, send
Such dreadful heralds to astonish us.
Cas. You are dull, Casca ; and those sparks
of life
That should be in a Roman you do want,
Or else you use not. You look pale, and gaze,
And put on fear, and cast yourself in wonder,
To see the strange impatience of the heavens :
But if you would consider the true cause
Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts,
Why birds and beasts, from quality and kind ;
Why old men fools, and children calculate ;
Why all these things change, from their ordin-
ance,
Their natures, and pre-formed faculties,
To monstrous quality ; why, you shall find
That heaven hath infus'd them with these spirits,
To make them instruments of fear and warning
Unto some monstrous state.
Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man
Most like this dreadful night
That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars
As doth the lion in the Capitol,
A man no mightier than thyself or me
In personal action ; yet prodigious grown,
And fearful, as these strange eruptions are.
Casca. 'Tis Caesar that you mean ; is it not,
Cassius?
Cas. Let it be who it is: for Romans now
Have thews and limbs like to their ancestors ;
But, woe the while ! our fathers' minds are dead,
And we are govern'd with our mothers' spi i:s;
Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish.
Casca. Indeed they say the senators to-morrow
Mean to establish Caesar as a king;
And he shall wear his crown by sea and land,
In every place, save here in Italy.
Cas. I know where I will wear this ('rigger
then;
Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius :
Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most
strong ;
Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat:
Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass,
Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron,
Can be retentive to the strength of spirit ;
But life, being weary of these worldly bars,
Never lacks power to dismiss itself.
If I know this, know all the world besides,
That part of tyranny that I do bear,
I can shake off at pleasure. [ Thunder still.
Casca. So can I :
So every bondman in his own hand bears
The power to cancel his captivity.
Cas. And why should Csesar be a tyrant, then?
Poor man ! I know he would not be a wolf,
But that he sees the Romans are but sheep :
He were no lion, were not Romans hinds.
Those that with haste will make a mighty fire
Begin it with weak straws : what trash is Rome,
What rubbish, and what offal, when it serves
For the base matter to illuminate
So vile a thing as Caesar I But, O grief,
Where hast thou led me? I perhaps speak this
Before a willing bondman ; then I know
My answer must be made : but I am arm'd,
And dangers are to me indifferent. [man
Casca. You speak to Casca; and to such a
That is no fleering tell-tale. Hold, my hand :
Be factious for redress of all these griefs ;
And I will set this foot of mine as far
As who goes farthest.
Cas. There 's a bargain made.
Now know you, Casca, I have mov'd already
Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans
To undergo with me an enterprise
Of honourable-dangerous consequence ;
And I do know by this they stay for me
In Pompey's porch : for now, this fearful night,
There is no stir or walking in the streets ;
And the complexion of the element
In favour 's like the work we have in hand,
Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible.
2E
866
JULIUS CESAR.
[ACT ii.
Casca. Stand close a while, for here comes
one in haste.
Cas. 'Tis Cinna, I do know him by his gait ;
He is a friend.
Enter CINNA.
Cinna, where haste you so?
Cin. To find out you. Who's that?
Metellus Cimber?
Cas. No, it is Casca ; one incorporate
To our attempts. Am I not stay'd for, Cinna ?
Cin. I am glad on 't. What a fearful night
is this 1 [sights.
There 's two or three of us have seen strange
Cas. Am I not stay'd for? Tell me.
Cin. Yes, you are.
Cassius, if you could
But win the noble Brutus to our party,
Cas. Be you content : good Cinna, take this
paper,
And look you lay it in the praetor's chair,
Where Brutus may but find it ; and throw this
In at his window ; set this up with wax
Upon old Brutus' statue : all this done, [us.
Repair to Pompey's porch, where you shall find
Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there?
Cin. All but Metellus Cimber ; and he 's gone
To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie,
And so bestow these papers as you bade me.
Cas. That done, repair to Pompey's theatre.
{Exit CINNA.
Come, Casca, you and I will yet, ere day,
See Brutus at his house : three parts of him
Is ours already ; and the man entire,
Upon the next encounter, yields him ours.
Casca. O, he sits high in all the people's
hearts :
And that which would appear offence in us,
His countenance, like richest alchemy,
Will change to virtue and to worthiness.
Cas. Him, and his worth, and our great need
of him,
You have right well conceited. Let us go,
For it is after midnight ; and ere day
We will awake him, and be sure of him.
[Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCENE I. ROME. BRUTUS'S Orchard.
Enter BRUTUS.
Brtt. What, Lucius, ho!
1 cannot, by the progress of the stars,
Give guess how near to day. Lucius, I say !
I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly.
When, Lucius, when? awake, I say! what,
Lucius!
Enter Lucius.
Luc. Call'd you, my lord ?
Bru. Get me a taper in my study, Lucius:
When it is lighted, come and call me here.
Luc. I will, my lord. [Exit.
Bru. It must be by his death : and, for my
part,
I know no personal cause to spurn at him,
But for the general. He would be crown'd :
How that might change his nature, there 's the
question :
It is the bright day that brings forth the adder;
And that craves wary walking. Crown him?
that
And then, I grant, we put a sting in him,
That at his will he may do danger with.
The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins
Remorse from power : and, to speak truth of
Caesar,
I have not known when his affections sway'd
More than his reason. But 'tis a common proof
That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
Whereto the climber-upward turns his face ;
But when he once attains the utmost round,
He then unto the ladder turns his back,
Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
By which he did ascend. So Caesar may ;
Then, lest he may, prevent. And, since the
quarrel
Will bear no colour for the thing he is,
Fashion it thus ; that what he is, augmented,
Would run to these and these extremities :
And therefore think him as a serpent's egg,
Which, hatch'd, would as his kind grow mis-
chievous ;
And kill him in the shell.
Re-enter Lucius.
Luc. The taper burneth in your closet, sir.
Searching the window for a flint, I found
[Giving him a letter,
This paper, thus seal'd up ; and I am sure
It did not lie there when I went to bed.
Bru. Get you to bed again, it is not day.
Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March?
Luc. I know not, sir. [word.
Bru. Look in the calender, and bring me
Luc. I will, sir. [Exit.
Bru. The exhalations, whizzing in the air,
Give so much light that I may read by them.
[Opens the letter and reads.
Brutus, thou sleep' st: awake, and see thyself.
Shall Rome, &>c. Speak, strike, redress!
Brutus, thou sleefst: awake.
Such instigations have been often dropp'd
Where I have took them up.
SCENE I.]
JULIUS CESAR.
Shall Rome, &c. Thus must I piece it out,
Shall Rome stand under one man's awe ? What,
Rome?
My ancestors did from the streets of Rome
The Tarquin drive, when he was call'd a king.
Speak, strike, redress! Am I entreated then
To speak and strike ! O Rome ! I make thee
promise,
If the redress will follow, thou receivest
Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus !
Re-enter Lucius.
Luc. Sir, March is wasted fourteen days.
[Knocking 1 within.
Bru. 'Tis good. Go to the gate ; somebody
knocks. [Exit Lucius.
Since Cassius first did whet me against Caesar,
I have not slept.
Between the acting of a dreadful thing
And the first motion, all the interim is
Like a phantasma or a hideous dream :
The genius and the mortal instruments
Are then in council ; and the state of man,
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then
The nature of an insurrection.
Re-enter Lucius.
Luc. Sir, 'tis your brother Cassius at the door
Who doth desire to see you.
Bru. Is he alone?
Luc. No, sir, there are more with him.
Bru. Do you know them?
Luc. No, sir; their hats are pluck'd about
their ears,
And half their faces buried in their cloaks,
That by no means I may discover them
By any mark of favour.
Bru. Let 'em enter.
[Exit Lucius.
They are the /action. O conspiracy, [night,
Sham'st thou to show thy dangerous brow by
When evils are most free? O, then, by day
Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough
To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek none,
conspiracy ;
Hide it in smiles and affability:
For if thou hath thy native semblance on,
Not Erebus itself were dim enough
To hide thee from prevention.
Enter CASSIUS, CASCA, DECIUS, CINNA,
METELLUS CIMBER, a
Cas. I think we are too bold upon your rest :
Good-morrow, Brutus; do we trouble you?
Bru. I have been up this hour; awake all
night.
Know I these men that come along with you?
Cas. Yes, every man of them ; and no man
here
But honours you ; and every one doth wish
You had but that opinion of yourself
Which every noble Roman bears of you.
This is Trebonius.
Bru. He is welcome hither.
Cas. This, Decius Brutus.
Bru. He is welcome too,
Cas. This, Casca; this, Cinna;
And this, Metellus Cimber.
Bru. They are all welcome.
What watchful cares do interpose themselves
Betwixt your eyes and night ?
Cas. Shall I entreat a word?
[BRUTUS and CASSIUS -whisper.
Dec. Here lies the east ; doth not the day
break here?
Casca. No.
Cin. O, pardon, sir, it doth ; and yon grey
lines
That fret the clouds are messengers of day.
Casca. You shall confess that you are both
deceiv'd.
Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises ;
Which is a great way growing on the south,
Weighing the youthful season of the year.
Some two months hence up higher toward the
north
He first presents his fire ; and the high east
Stands, as the Capitol, directly here.
Bru. Give me your hands all over, one by
one.
Cas. And let us swear our resolution.
Bru. No, not an oath : if not the face of men,
The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse,
If these be motives weak, break off betimes,
And every man hence to his idle bed ;
So let high -sighted tyranny range on,
Till each man drop by lottery. But if these,
As I am sure they do, bear fire enough
To kindle cowards, and to steel with valour
The melting spirits of women ; then, country-
men,
What need we any spur, but our own cause,
To prick us to redress? what other bond
Than secret Romans, that have spoke the word
And will not palter? and what other oath
Than honesty to honesty engag'd
That this shall be, or we will fall for it?
Swear priests, and cowards, and men cautelous,
Old feeble carrions, and such suffering souls
That welcome wrongs ; unto bad causes swear
Such creatures as men doubt : but do not stain
The even virtue of our enterprise,
Nor the insuppressive mettle of our spirits,
To think that or our cause or our performance
868
JULIUS CESAR.
[ACT ii.
Did need an oath ; when every drop of blood
That every Roman bears, and nobly bears,
Is guilty of a several bastardy
If he do break the smallest particle
Of any promise that hath pass'd from him.
Cas. But what of Cicero? shall we sound
him?
I think he will stand very strong with us.
Casca. Let us not leave him out.
Cin. No, by no means.
Met. O, let us have him ; for his silver hairs
Will purchase us a good opinion,
And buy men's voices to commend our deeds :
It shall be said his judgment rul'd our hands ;
Our youths and Wildness shall no whit appear,
But all be buried in his gravity.
Bru. O, name him not: let us not break
with him ;
For he will never follow anything
That other men begin.
Cas. Then leave him out.
Casca. Indeed he is not fit.
Dec. Shall no man else be touch 'd but only
Caesar?
Cas. Decius, well urg*d. I think it is not
meet
Mark Antony, so well belov'd of Caesar,
Should outlive Caesar : we shall find of him
A shrewd contriver ; and, you know, his means,
If he improve them, may well stretch so far
As to annoy us all : which to prevent,
Let Antony and Caesar fall together.
Bru. Our course will seem too bloody, Caius
Cassius,
To cut the head off and then hack the limbs,
Like wrath in death and envy afterwards ;
For Antony is but a limb of Caesar:
Let 's be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius.
We all stand up against the spirit of Caesar ;
And in the spirit of men there is no blood:
O that we, then, could come by Caesar's spirit,
And not dismember Caesar ! But, alas,
Caesar must bleed for it ! And, gentle friends,
Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully;
Let 's carve him as a dish fit for the gods,
Not hew him as a carcase fit for hounds :
And let our hearts, as subtle masters do,
Stir up their servants to an act of rage,
And after seem to chide 'em. This shall make
Our purpose necessary, and not envious:
Which so appearing to the common eyes,
We shall be call'd purgers, not murderers.
And for Mark Antony, think not of him ;
For he can do no more than Caesar's arm
When Caesar's head is off.
Cas. Yet I fear him ;
For in the engrafted love he bears to Caesar,
Bru. Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him :
If he love Caesar, all that he can do
Is to himself, take thought and die for Caesar:
And that were much he should ; for he is given
To sports, to wildness, and much company.
Treb. There is no fear in him ; let him not
die;
For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter.
[Clock strikes.
Bru. Peace, count the clock.
Cas. The clock hath stricken three.
Treb. 'Tis time to part.
Cas. But it is doubtful yet
Whether Caesar will come forth to-day or no :
For he is superstitious grown of late ;
Quite from the main opinion he held once
Of fantasy, of dreams, and ceremonies :
It may be these apparent prodigies,
The unaccustom'd terror of this night,
And the persuasion of his augurers,
May hold him from the Capitol to-day.
Dec. Never fear that : if he be so resolv'd
I can o'ersway him ; for he loves to hear
That unicorns may be betray'd with trees,
And bears with glasses, elephants with holes,
Lions with toils, and men with flatterers:
But when I tell him he hates flatterers,
He says he does, being then most flatter'd.
Let me work ;
For I can give his humour the true bent,
And I will bring him to the Capitol.
Cas. Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch
him. [most?
Bru. By the eighth hour : is that the utter-
Cin. Be that the uttermost, and fail not then.
Met. Caius Ligarius doth bear Caesar hard,
Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey :
I wonder none of you have thought of him.
Bru. Now, good Metellus, go along by him :
He loves me well, and I have given him reasons ;
Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him.
Cas. The morning comes upon 's : we '11 leave
you, Brutus: [member
And, friends, disperse yourselves: but all re-
What you have said, and show yourselves true
Romans.
Bru. Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily;
Let not our looks put on our purposes ;
But bear it as our Roman actors do,
With untir'd spirits and formal constancy;
And so, good-morrow to you every one.
[Exeunt all but BRUTUS.
Boy ! Lucius ! Fast asleep? it is no matter ;
Enjoy the heavy honey-dew of slumber :
Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies
Which busy care draws in the brains of men ;
Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.
SCENE I.]
JULIUS CESAR.
869
Enter PORTIA.
Par. Brutus, my lord !
Bru. Portia, what mean you? wherefore rise
you now?
It is not for your health thus to commit
Your weak condition to the raw cold morning.
For. Nor for yours neither. You have un-
gently, Brutus,
Stole from my bed : and yesternight, at supper,
You suddenly arose, and walk'd about,
Musing and sighing, with your arms across;
And when I ask'd you what the matter was,
You star'd upon me with ungentle looks :
I urg'd you further ; then you scratch'd your
head,
And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot:
Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not ;
But with an angry wafture of your hand
Gave sign for me to leave you : so I did ;
Fearing to strengthen that impatience
Which seem'd too much enkindled ; and withal
Hoping it was but an effect of humour,
Which sometime hath his hour with every man.
It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep ;
And, could it work so much upon your shape
As it hath much prevail'd on your condition,
I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord,
Make me acquainted with your cause of grief.
Bru. I am not well in health, and that is all.
For. Brutus is wise, and were he not in
health,
He would embrace the means to come by it.
Bru. Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed.
For. Is Brutus sick? and is it physical
To walk unbraced, and suck up the humours
Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick,
And will he steal out of his wholesome bed,
To dare the vile contagion of the night,
And tempt the rheumy and unpurg'd air
To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus;
You have some sick offence within your mind,
Which by the right and virtue of my place
I ought to know of: and upon my knees
I charm you, by my once -commended beauty,
By all your vows of love, and that great vow
Which did incorporate and make us one,
That you unfold to me, yourself, your half,
Why you are heavy ; and what men to-night
Have had resort to you, for here have been
Some six or seven, who did hide their faces
Even from darkness.
Bru. Kneel not, gentle Portia.
For. I should not need if you were gentle
Brutus.
Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus,
Is it excepted I should know no secrets
That appertain to you? Am I yourself
But as it were in sort or limitation,
To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed,
And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in
the suburbs
Of your good pleasure? If it be no more,
Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife.
Bru. You are my true and honourable wife ;
As dear to me as are the ruddy drops
That visit my sad heart.
For. If this were true, then should I know
this secret.
I grant 1 am a woman ; but withal
A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife:
I grant I am a woman ; but withal
A woman well-reputed, Cato's daughter.
Think you I am no stronger than my sex,
Being so father 'd and so husbanded?
Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose 'em :
I have made strong proof of my constancy,
Giving myself a voluntary wound
Here in the thigh : can I bear that with patience.
And not my husband's secrets?
Bru. O ye gods,
Render me worthy of this noble wife !
{Knocking within.
Hark, hark ! one knocks : Portia, go in awhile ;
And by and by thy bosom shall partake
The secrets of my heart:
All my engagements I will construe to thee,
All the charactery of my sad brows.
Leave me with haste. [Exit PORTIA.
Lucius, who's that knocks?
Enter Lucius with LiGARius.
Luc. Here is a sick man that would speak
with you.
Bru. CaiusLigarius, that Metellus spake of.
Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius, how !
Lig. Vouchsafe good -morrow from a feeble
tongue.
Bru. O, what a time have you chose out,
brave Caius,
To wear a kerchief ! Would you were not sick !
Lig. I am not sick if Brutus have in hand
Any exploit worthy the name of honour.
Bru. Suchan exploit have I in hand, Ligarius,
Had you a healthful ear lo hear of it.
Lig. By all the gods that Romans bow before,
I here discard my sickness ! Soul of Rome !
Brave son, deriv'd from honourable loins !
Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjurM up
My mortified spirit. Now bid me run,
And I will strive with things impossible ;
Yea, get the better of them. What's to do?
Bru. A piece of work that will make sick
men whole.
8;o
JULIUS CESAR.
[ACT n.
Lig. But are not some whole that we must
make sick? [Caius,
Brti. That must we also. What it is, my
I shall unfold to thee, as we are going
To whom it must be done.
Lig. Set on your foot ;
And with a heart new fir'd I follow you
To do I know not what : but it sufficeth
That Brutus leads me on.
Bru. Follow me, then.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. ROME. A Room in CAESAR'S
Palace.
Thunder and lightning. Enter OESAR in his
night-gown.
Cats. Nor heaven nor earth have been at
peace to-night :
Thrice hath Calphurnia in her sleep cried out,
Help, ho! They murder Ccesar ! Who's
within?
Enter a Servant.
Serv. My lord ?
Cces. Go bid the priests do present sacrifice,
And bring me their opinions of success.
Serv. I will, my lord. [Exit.
Enter CALPHURNIA.
Cal. What mean you, Caesar? Think you
to walk forth?
You shall not stir out of your house to-day.
Cces. Caesar shall forth: the things that
threaten'd me [see
Ne'er look'd but on my back ; when they shall
The face of Caesar they are vanished.
Cal. Caesar, I never stood on ceremonies,
Yet now they fright me. There is one within,
Besides the things that we have heard and seen,
Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch.
A lioness hath whelped in the streets;
And graves have yawn'd and yielded up their
dead;
Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds,
In ranks and squadrons and right form of war,
Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol ;
The noise of battle hurtled in the air,
Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan ;
And ghosts did shriek and squeal about the
streets.
O Caesar, these things are beyond all use,
And I do fear them !
Cces. What can be avoided,
Whose end is purpos'd by the mighty gods?
Yet Caesar shall go forth ; for these predictions
Are to the world in general as to Caesar.
Cal. When beggars die there are no comets
seen ; [of princes.
The heavens themselves blaze forth the death
Cces. Cowards die many times before their
deaths ;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should
fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come.
Re-enter Servant.
What say the augurers?
Serv. They would not have you to stir forth
to-day.
Plucking the entrails of an offering forth,
They could not find a heart within the beast.
Cces. The gods do this in shame of cowardice :
Caesar should be a beast without a heart
If he should stay at home to-day for fear.
No, Caesar shall not : danger knows full well
That Caesar is more dangerous than he :
We are two lions litter'd in one day,
And I the elder and more terrible :
And Caesar shall go forth.
Cal. Alas, my lord,
Your wisdom is consum'd in confidence.
Do not go forth to-day : call it my fear
That keeps you in the house, and not your own
We'll send Mark Antony to the senate-house ;
And he shall say you are not well to-day:
Let me, upon my knee, prevail in this.
Cces. Mark Antony shall say I am not well :
And for thy humour I will stay at home.
Enter DECIUS.
Here 's Decius Brutus, he shall tell them so.
Dec. Caesar, all hail ! Good-morrow, worthy
Caesar:
I come to fetch you to the senate-house.
Cces. And you are come in very happy time,
To bear my greeting to the senators,
And tell them that I will not come to-day:
Cannot, is false; and that I dare not, falser:
I will not come to-day, tell them so, Decius.
Cal. Say he is sick.
Cces. Shall Caesar send a lie ?
Have I in conquest stretch'd mine arm so far,
To be afeard to tell graybeards the truth?
Decius, go tell them Caesar will not come.
Dec. Most mighty Caesar, let me know some
cause,
Lest I be laugh'd at when I tell them so.
Cces. The cause is in my will, I will not
come;
That is enough to satisfy the senate.
SCENE II.]
JULIUS CESAR.
871
But for your private satisfaction,
Because I love you, I will let you know,
Calphurnia here, my wife, stays me at home :
She dreamt to-night she saw my statua,
Which, like a fountain with a hundred spouts,
Did run pure blood ; and many lusty Romans
Came smiling and did bathe their hands in it :
And these does she apply for warnings and
portents,
And evils imminent ; and on her knee
Hath begg'd that I will stay at home to-day.
Dec. This dream is all amiss interpreted ;
It was a vision fair and fortunate :
Your statue spouting blood in many pipes,
In which so many smiling Romans bath'd,
Signifies that from you great Rome shall suck
Reviving blood ; and that great men shall press
For tinctures, stains, relics, and cognizance.
This by Calphurnia's dream is signified. [it.
Ctzs. And this way have you well expounded
Dec. I have, when you have heard what I
can say :
And know it now, the senate have concluded
To give this day a crown to mighty Caesar.
If you shall send them word you will not come,
Their minds may change. Besides, it were a
mock,
Apt to be render'd, for some one to say,
Break up the senate till another time.
When CtzsaSs wife shall meet with better dreams.
If Caesar hide himself, shall they not whisper,
Lo, Ccesar is afraid ?
Pardon me, Csesar ; for my dear dear love
To your proceeding bids me tell you this ;
And reason to my love is liable.
Ctzs. How foolish do your fears seem now,
Calphurnia !
I am ashamed I did yield to them.
Give me my robe for I will go :
Enter PUBLIUS, BRUTUS, LIGARIUS, ME-
TELLUS, CASCA, TREBONIUS, and CINNA.
And look where Publius is come to fetch me.
Ptib. Good-morrow, Caesar.
Cces. Welcome, Publius.
What, Brutus, are you stirred so early too?
Good-morrow, Casca. Caius Ligarius,
Caesar was ne'er so much your enemy
As that same ague which hath made you lean.
What is 't o'clock?
Bru. Caesar, 'tis strucken eight.
Cces. I thank you for your pains and courtesy.
Enter ANTONY.
See ! Antony, that revels long o' nights
Is notwithstanding up.
Good -morrow, Antony.
Ant. So to most noble Csesar.
Cces. Bid them prepare within.
I am to blame to be thus waited for.
Now Cinna ; now Metellus : what, Tre-
bonius !
I have an hour's talk in store for you ;
Remember that you call on me to-day :
Be near me, that I may remember you.
Treb. Caesar, I will: and so near will I
be, [Aside.
That your best friends shall wish I had been
further.
Cces. Good friends, go in and taste some
wine with me ;
And we, like friends, will straightway go to-
gether.
Bru. That every like is not the same, O
Caesar,
The heart of Brutus yearns to think upon !
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. ROME. A Street near the
Capitol.
Enter ARTEMIDORUS reading a paper.
Art. Ctzsar, beware of Bruttts ; take heed of
Cassius j come not near Casca ; have an eye to
Cinna; trust not Trebonius ; mark-well Metellus
Cimber; Decius Brutus loves thee not ; thou
hast wronged Caius Ligarius. There is but
one mind in all these men, and it is bent
against Ccesar. If thou beest not immortal^
look about you : security gives way to conspiracy.
The mighty gods defend thee! Thy lover t
ARTEMIDORUS.
Here will I stand till Caesar pass along,
And as a suitor will I give him this.
My heart laments that virtue cannot live
Out of the teeth of emulation.
If thou read this, O Caesar, thou mayst five ;
If not, the fates with traitors do contrive.
[Exit.
SCENE IV. ROME. Another part of the
same Street ', before the House of BRUTUS.
Enter PORTIA and Lucius.
For. I pr'ythee, boy, run to the senate-
house;
Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone :
Why dost thou stay?
Luc. To know my errand, madam.
For. I would have had thee there and here
again
Ere I can tell thee what thou shouldst do
there.
8 7 2
JULIUS CESAR.
[ACT in.
constancy, be strong upon my side !
Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and
tongue !
1 have a man's mind, but a woman's might.
How hard it is for women to keep counsel !
Art thou here yet?
Luc. Madam, what should I dc?
Run to the Capitol, and nothing else?
And so return to you, and nothing else?
For. Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord
look well,
For he went sickly forth : and take good note
What Caesar doth, what suitors press to him.
Hark, boy! what noise is that?
Luc. I hear none, madam.
For. Pr'ythee, listen well :
I heard a bustling rumour, like a fray,
And the wind brings it from the Capitol.
Luc. Sooth, madam, I hear nothing.
Enter ARTEMIDORUS.
For. Come hither, fellow :
Which way hast thou been?
Art. At mine own house, good lady.
For. What is 't o'clock?
Art. About the ninth hour, lady.
For. Is Caesar yet gone to the Capitol?
Art. Madam, not yet : I go to take my stand,
To see him pass on to the Capitol.
For. Thou hast some suit to Csesar, hast
thou not?
Art. That I have, lady: if it will please
Caesar
To be so good to Csesar as to hear me,
I shall beseech him to befriend himself.
For. Why, know'st thou any harm's in-
tended towards him?
Art. None that I know will be, much that
I fear may chance.
Good-morrow to you. Here the street is
narrow :
The throng that follows Caesar at the heels
Of senators, of praetors, common suitors,
Will crowd a feeble man almost to death :
I'll get me to a place more void, and there
Speak to great Caesar as he comes along.
\Exti.
For. I must go in. Ah me! how weak a
thing
The heart of woman is ! O Brutus,
The heavens speed thee in thine enterprise !
Sure the boy heard me. Brutus hath a suit
That Csesar will not grant. O, I grow faint.
Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord ;
Say I am merry : come to me again,
And bring me word what he doth say to thee.
[Exeunt severally.
ACT III.
SCENE I. ROME. The Capitol; the Senate
sitting.
A crowd of People in the street leading to the
Capitol; among them ARTEMIDORUS and
the Soothsayer. Flourish. Entei CESAR,
BRUTUS, CASSIUS, CASCA, DECIUS, ME-
TELLUS, TREBONIUS, CINNA, ANTONY,
LEPIDUS, POPILIUS, PUBLIUS, and others.
Cces. The ides of March are come.
Sooth. Ay, Csesar; but not gone.
Art. Hail, Csesar ! Read this schedule.
Dec. Trebonius doth desire you to o'er read,
At your best leisure, this his humble suit.
Art. O Csesar, read mine first; for mine's
a suit [Csesar.
That touches Csesar nearer: read it, great
Cces. What touches us ourself shall be last
serv'd.
Art. Delay not, Csesar ; read it instantly.
Cces. What, is the fellow mad?
Pub. Sirrah, give place.
Cas. What, urge you your petitions in the
street?
Come to the Capitol.
CESAR enters the Capitol^ the rest following.
All the Senators rise.
Pop. I wish your enterprise to-day may thrive.
Cas. What enterprise, Popilius?
Pop. Fare you well.
{Advances to CESAR.
Bru. What said Popilius Lena?
Cas. He wish'd to-day our enterprise might
thrive.
I fear our purpose is discovered.
Bru. Look how he makes to Csesar : mark
him. [tion.
Cas. Casca, be sudden, for we fear preven-
Brutus, what shall be done? If this be known,
Cassius or Csesar never shall turn back,
For I will slay myself.
Bru. Cassius, be constant:
Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes ;
For, look, he smiles, and Caesar doth not change.
Cas. Trebonius knows his time; for, look
you, Brutus,
He draws Mark Antony out of the way.
[Exeunt ANT. and TREE. CESAR and
the Senators take their seats.
Dec. Where is MetellusCimber? Let him go,
And presently prefer his suit to Csesar.
Bru. He is address'd : press near and second
him.
SCENE I.J
JULIUS C^SAR.
873
Cin. Casca, you are the first that rears your
hand.
Casca, Are we all ready?
Cces. What is now amiss
That Caesar and his senate must redress?
Met. Most high, most mighty, and most
puissant Caesar,
Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat
An humble heart, [Kneeling.
Cas. I must prevent thee, Cimber.
These couchings and these lowly courtesies
Might fire the blood of ordinary men,
And turn pre-ordinance and first decree
Into the law of children. Be not fond
To think that Caesar bears such rebel blood
That will be thaw'd from the true quality
With that which melteth fools ; I mean, sweet
words,
Low crooked curt'sies, and base spaniel fawning.
Thy brother by decree is banished:
If thou dost bend, and pray, and fawn for him,
I spurn thee like a cur out of my way.
Know, Caesar doth not wrong; nor without
cause
Will he be satisfied.
Met. Is there no voice more worthy than my
own,
To sound more sweetly in great Caesar's ear
For the repealing of my banish'd brother?
Bru. I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery,
Caesar,
Desiring thee that Publius Cimber may
Have an immediate freedom of repeal.
Cces. What, Brutus!
Cas. Pardon, Caesar; Caesar, pardon:
As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall,
To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber.
Cces. I could be well mov'd if I were as you ;
If I could pray to move, prayers would move me:
But I am constant as the northern star,
Of whose true-fix'd and resting quality
There is no fellow in the firmament.
The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks,
They are all fire, and every one doth shine ;
But there's but one in all doth hold his place:
So in the world, 'tis furnish'd well with men,
And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive ;
Yet in the number I do know but one
That unassailable holds on his rank,
Unshak'd of motion : and that I am he,
Let me a little show it even in this,
That I was constant Cimber should be banish'd,
And constant do remain to keep him so.
Cin. O Caesar,
Cces. Hence ! wilt thou lift up Olympus?
Dec. Great Caesar,
Cas. Doth not Brutus bootless kneel?
Casca. Speak, hands, for me !
[CASCA stabs CAESAR in the neck. C/ESAR
catches hold of his arm. He is then
stabbed by several other Conspirators^
and at last by MARCUS BRUTUS.
CCES. Et tu, Brute? Then fall, Caesar!
[Dies. The Senators and People retire in
confusion.
Cin. Liberty ! Freedom ! Tyranny is dead !
Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets.
Cas. Some to the common pulpits, and cry
out,
Liberty , freedom , and enfranchisement!
Bru. People and senators ! be not affrighted ;
Fly not ; stand still : ambition's debt is paid.
Casca. Go to the pulpit, Brutus.
Dec. And Cassius too.
Bru. Where's Publius? [mutiny.
Cin. Here, quite confounded with this
Met. Stand fast together, lest some friend of
Caesar's
Should chance, [cheer ;
Brii. Talk not of standing. Publius, good
There is no harm intended to your person,
Nor to no Roman else: so tell them, Publius.
Cas. And leave us, Publius; lest that the
people,
Rushingon us, should do your age some mischief.
Bru. Do so : and let no man abide this deed,
But we the doers.
Re-enter TREBONIUS.
Cas. Where is Antony?
Tre. Fled to his house amaz'd :
Men, wives, and children stare, cry out, and run,
As it were doomsday.
Bru. Fates ! we will know your pleasures.
That we shall die, we know ; 'tis but the time,
And drawing days out, that men stand upon.
Cas. Why, he that cuts off twenty years of
life,
Cuts oft so many years of fearing death.
Brti. Grant that, and then is death a benefit :
So are we Caesar's friends, that have abridg'd
His time of fearing death. Stoop, Romans,
stoop,
And let us bathe our hands in Caesar's blood
Up to the elbows, and besmear our swords :
Then walk we forth even to the market-place,
And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads,
Let's all cry, Peace! freedom! and liberty!
Cas. Stoop then, and wash. How many
ages hence
Shall this our lofty scene be acted over,
In states unborn and accents yet unknown !
Bru. How many times shall Caesar bleed in
sport,
8 7 4
JULIUS CESAR.
[ACT HI.
That now on Pompey's basis lies along
No worthier than the dust !
Cas. So oft as that shall be,
So often shall the knot of us be call'd
The men that gave their country liberty.
Dec. What, shall we forth?
Cas. Ay, every man away :
Brutus shall lead ; and we will grace his heels
With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome.
Bru. Soft, who comes here?
Enter a Servant.
A friend of Antony's.
Serv. Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me
kneel ;
Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down ;
And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say:
Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest ;
Caesar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving :
Say I lov'd Brutus, and I honour him ; [him.
Say I fear'd Caesar, honour'd him, and lov'd
If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony
May safely come to him, and be resolv'd
How Caesar hath deserv'd to lie in death,
Mark Antony shall not love Caesar dead
So well as Brutus living ; but will follow
The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus
Through the hazards of this untrod state
With all true faith. So says my master Antony.
Bru. Thy master is a wise and valiant Roman :
I never thought him worse.
Tell him, so please him come unto this place,
He shall be satisfied ; and, by my honour,
Depart untouch'd.
Serv. I '11 fetch him presently. [Exit.
Bru. I know that we shall have him well to
friend.
Cas. I wish we may : but yet have I a mind
That fears him much ; and my misgiving still
Falls shrewdly to the purpose.
Brti. But here comes Antony.
Re-enter ANTONY.
Welcome, Mark Antony.
Ant. O mighty Caesar ! dost thoulie so low?
Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils,
Shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee well.
I know not, gentlemen, what you intend,
Who else must be let blood, who else is rank :
If I myself, there is no hour so fit
As Caesar's death's hour ; nor no instrument
Of half that worth as those your swords, made
rich
With the most noble blood of all this world.
I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard,
Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and
smoke.
Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years,
I shall not find myself so apt to die :
No place will please me so, no mean of death
As here by Caesar, and by you cut off,
The choice and master spirits of this age.
Bru. O Antony ! beg not your death of us.
Though now we must appear bloody and cruel,
As by our hands and this our present act
You see we do ; yet see you but our hands,
And this the bleeding business they have done :
Our hearts you see not, they are pitiful ;
And pity to the general wrong of Rome,
As fire drives out fire, so pity pity,
Hath done this deed on Caesar. For your part,
To you our swords have leaden points, Mark
Antony :
Our arms no strength of malice, and our hearts,
Of brothers' temper, do receive you in
With all kind love, good thoughts, and rever-
ence, [man's
Cas. Your voice shall be as strong as any
In the disposing of new dignities.
Bru. Only be patient till we have appeas'd
The multitude, beside themselves with fear,
And then we will deliver you the cause
Why I, that did love Caesar when I struck him,
Have thus proceeded.
Ant. I doubt not of your wisdom.
Let each man render me his bloody hand :
First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you ;
Next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand ;
Now, Decius Brutus, yours ; now yours, Me-
tellus;
Yours, Cinna ; and, my valiant Casca, yours;
Though last, not least in love, yours, good
Trebonius.
Gentlemen all, alas, what shall I say?
My credit now stands on such slippery ground
That one of two bad ways you must conceit me,
Either a coward or a flatterer.
That I did love thee, Caesar, O, 'tis true:
If then, thy spirit look upon us now,
Shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy death
To see thy Antony making his peace,
Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes,
Most noble ! in the presence of thy corse?
Had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds,
Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood,
It would become me better than to close
In terms of friendship with thine enemies.
Pardon me, Julius! Here wast thou bay'd,
brave hart ;
Here didst thou fall; and here thy hunters
stand,
Sign'd in thy spoil, andcrimson'd in thy Lethe.
O world, thou wast the forest to this hart;
And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee.
SCENE I.]
JULIUS CESAR.
875
How like a deer strucken by many princes
Dost thou here lie !
Cas. Mark Antony,
Ant. Pardon me, Caius Cassius :
The enemies of Caesar shall say this ;
Then in a friend it is cold modesty.
Cas, I blame you not for praising Caesar so ;
But what compact mean you to have with us?
Will you be prick'd in number of our friends ;
Or shall we on, and not depend on you?
Ant. Therefore I took your hands ; but was,
indeed,
S way'd from the point by looking down on Caesar.
Friends am I with you all, and love you all ;
Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons
Why and wherein Caesar was dangerous.
Brit. Or else were this a savage spectacle :
Our reasons are so full of good regard
That were you, Antony, the son of Caesar,
You should be satisfied.
Ant. That 's all I seek :
And am moreover suitor that I may
Produce his body to the market-place ;
And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend,
Speak in the order of his funeral.
Bru. You shall, Mark Antony.
Cas. Brutus, a word with you.
You know not what you do : do not consent
That Antony speak in his funeral :
Know you how much the people may be mov'd
By that which he will utter?
[Aside to BRUTUS.
Bru. By your pardon ;
I will myself into the pulpit first,
And show the reason of our Caesar's death :
What Antony shall speak, I will protest
He speaks by leave and by permission ;
And that we are contented Caesar shall
Have all true rites and lawful ceremonies.
It shall advantage more than do us wrong.
Cas. I know not what may fall ; I like it not.
Bru. Mark Antony, here, take you Caesar's
body.
You shall not in your funeral speech blame us,
But speak all good you can devise of Caesar ;
And say you do 't by our permission ;
Else shall you not have any hand at all
About his funeral : and you shall speak
In the same pulpit whereto I am going,
After my speech is ended.
Ant. Be it so;
I do desire no more.
Bru. Prepare the body then, and follow us.
[Exeunt all but ANTONY.
Ant. O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of
earth,
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers !
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man
That ever lived in the tide of times.
Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood !
Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,
Which like dumb mouths do ope their ruby lips,
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue,
A curse shall light upon the limbs of men ;
Domestic fury and fierce civil strife
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy ;
Blood and destruction shall be so in use,
And dreadful objects so familiar,
That mothers shall but smile when they behold
Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war ;
All pity chok'd with custom of fell deeds :
A.nd Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge,
With Ate by his side come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice
Cry Havoc, and let slip the dogs of war ;
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
With carrion men, groaning for burial.
Enter a Servant.
You serve Octavius Caesar, do you not ?
Serv. I do, Mark Antony.
Ant. Caesar did write for him to come to
Rome. [ing ;
Serv. He did receive his letters, and is com-
And bid me say to you by word of mouth,
O Caesar ! [Seeing the body.
Ant. Thy heart is big, get thee apart and
weep.
Passion, I see, is catching ; for mine eyes,
Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine,
Began to water. Is thy master coming?
Serv. He lies to-night within seven leagues
of Rome.
Ant. Post back with speed, and tell him
what hath chanc'd :
Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome,
No Rome of safety for Octavius yet ;
Hie hence and tell him so. Yet, stay awhile ;
Thou shalt not back till I have borne this corse
Into the market-place: there shall I try,
In my oration, how the people take
The cruel issue of these bloody men ;
According to the which thou shalt discourse
To young Octavius of the state of things.
Lend me your hand.
[Exeunt with OESAR'S body.
SCENE II. ROME. The Forum.
Enter BRUTUS and CASSIUS, and a throng of
Citizens.
Citizens. We will be satisfied; let us be
satisfied. [friends.
Bru. Then follow me, and give me audience,
876
JULIUS CESAR.
[ACT nr.
Cassius, go you into the other street,
And part the numbers.
Those that will hear me speak, let 'em stay here ;
Those that will follow Cassius, go with him ;
And public reasons shall be rendered
Of Caesar's death.
1 Cit. I will hear Brutus speak.
2 Cit. I will hear Cassius ; and compare their
reasons,
When severally we hear them rendered.
[Exit CASSIUS, with some of the Citizens.
BRUTUS goes into the Rostrum.
3 Cit. The noble Brutus is ascended : silence !
Bni. Be patient till the last.
Romans, countrymen, and lovers ! hear me for
my cause; and be silent, that you may hear:
believe me for mine honour ; and have respect
to mine honour, that you may believe : censure
me in your wisdom ; and awake your senses,
that you may the better judge. If there be any
in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's, to
him I say that Brutus' love to Caesar was no
less than his. If, then, that friend demand
why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my
answer, Not that I loved Caesar less, but that
I loved Rome more. Had you rather Caesar
were living, and die all slaves, than that Caesar
were dead, to live all free men? As Caesar
loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate,
I rejoice at it ; as he was valiant, I honour him :
but, as he was ambitious, I slew him: there io
tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honour
for his valour; and death for his ambition.
Who is here so base that would be a bondman?
If any, speak ; for him have I offended. Who
is here so rude that would not be a Roman?
If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who
is here so vile that will not love his country?
If any, speak; for him have I offended. I
pause for a reply.
Citizens. None, Brutus, none.
Bru. Then none have I offended. I have
done no more to Caesar than you shall do to
Brutus. The question of his death is enrolled
in the Capitol; his glory not extenuated,
wherein he was worthy; nor his offences en-
forced, for which he suffered death. Here
comes his body, mourn'd by Mark Antony :
Enter ANTONY and others -with CESAR'S body.
who, though he had no hand in his death,
shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place
in the commonwealth ; as which of you shall
not? With this I depart, that, as I slew my
best lover for the good of Rome, I have the
same dagger for myself, when it shall please my
country to need my death.
Citizens. Live, Brutus ! live, live !
1 Cit. Bring him with triumph home unto
his house.
2 Cit. Give him a statue with his ancestors.
3 Cit. Let him be Caesar.
4 Cit. Caesar's better parts
Shall be crown'd in Brutus.
1 Cit. We'll bring him to his house with
shouts and clamours.
Bru. My countrymen,
2 Cit. Peace, silence ! Brutus speaks.
I Cit. Peace, ho !
Bru. Good countrymen, let me depart alone,
And for my sake stay here with Antony :
Do grace to Caesar's corse, and grace his speech
Tending to Caesar's glories; which Mark
Antony,
By our permission, is allow'd to make.
I do entreat you, not a man depart,
Save I alone, till Antony have spoke. [Exit.
I Cit. Stay, ho! and let us hear Mark
Antony.
3 Cit. Let him go up into the public chair;
We '11 hear him. Noble Antony, go up.
Ant. For Brutus' sake I am beholden to you.
[Goes tip.
4 Cit. What does he say of Brutus?
3 Cit. He says, for Brutus' sake
He finds himself beholden to us all.
4 Cit. 'Twere best he speak no harm of
Brutus here.
1 Cit. This Caesar was a tyrant.
3 Cit. Nay, that 's certain :
We are bless'd that Rome is rid of him.
2 Cit. Peace ! let us hear what Antony can
say.
Ant. You gentle Romans.
Cit. Peace, ho! let us hear him.
Ant. Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend
me your ears ;
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise hinui^
The evil that men do lives after them ;
The good is oft interred with their bones ;
So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Caesar was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault ;
And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest,
For Brutus is an honourable man ;
So are they all, all honourable men,
Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But Brutus says he was ambitious ;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious ?
SCENE II.]
JULIUS CESAR.
877
When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath
wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff j
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see that on the Lupercal
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse : was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause :
What cause withholds you, then, to mourn for
him?
judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason! Bear with
me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.
1 Cit. Methinks there is much reason in his
sayings.
2 Cit. If thou consider rightly of the matter,
Caesar has had great wrong.
3 Cit. Has he, masters?
1 fear there will a worse come in his place.
4 Cit. Mark'd ye his words ? He would not
take the crown ;
Therefore 'tis certain he was not ambitious.
1 Cit. If it be found so, some will dear abide
it. [weeping.
2 Cit. Poor soul ! his eyes are red as fire with
3 Cit. There's not a nobler man in Rome
than Antony. [speak.
4 Cit. Now mark him, he begins again to
Ant. But yesterday the word of Caesar might
Have stood against the world : now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence.
masters, if I were dispos'd to stir
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
1 should do Erutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,
Who, you all know, are honourable men :
I will not do them wrong ; I rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,
Than I will wrong such honourable men.
But here 's a parchment with the seal of Caesar,
I found it in his closet, 'tis his will :
Let but the commons hear this testament,
Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,
And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's
wounds,
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ;
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,
And, dying, mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it as a rich legacy
Unto their issue. [Antony.
4 Cit. We'll hear the will: read it, Mark
Citizens. The will, the will! we will hear
Caesar's will.
Ant. Have patience, gentle friends, I must
not read it ;
It is not meet you know how Caesar lov'd you.
You are not wood, you are not stones, but men ;
And, being men, hearing the will of Caesar,
It will inflame you, it will make you mad :
'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs ;
For, if you should, O, what would come of it !
4 Cit. Read the will ; we '11 hear it, Antony ;
You shall read us the will, Caesar's will.
Ant. Will you be patient? will you stay
awhile?
I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it:
I fear I wrong the honourable men
Whose daggers have stabb'd Caesar ; I do fear it.
4 Cit. They were traitors : honourable men !
Citizens. The will ! the testament !
2 Cit. They were villains, murderers: the
will ! read the will ! [will?
Ant. You will compel me, then, to read the
Then make a ring about the corse of Caesar,
And let me show you him that made the will.
Shall I descend? and will you give me leave?
Citizens. Come down.
2 Cit. Descend. [ANTONY comes down.
3 Cit. You shall have leave.
4 Cit. A ring ; stand round. [body.
1 Cit. Stand from the hearse, stand from the
2 Cit. Room for Antony, most noble
Antony ! [off.
Ant. Nay, press not so upon me ; stand far
Citizens. Stand back ; room ; bear back !
Ant. If you have tears, prepare to shed them
now.
You all do know this mantle: I remember
The first time ever Caesar put it on ;
'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent,
That day he overcame the Nervii:
Look ! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through:
See what a rent the envious Casca made :
Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd ;
And, as he pluck'd his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Caesar follow'd it,
As rushing out of doors, to be resolv'd
If Brutus so unkiTTdly knock'd or no ;
For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel :
Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him!
This was the most unkindest cut of all ;
For when the nobte Caesar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more-Strong than traitors' arms,
Quite vanquish'd bun : then burst his mighty
heart;
And, in his mantle Vouffling up his face,
Even at the base of Pompey's statua,
Which all the while Ian blood, great Caesar fell.
8;8
JULIUS CESAR.
[ACT in.
O, what a fall was there, my countrymen !
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.
O, now you weep ; and I perceive you feel
The dint of pity : these are gracious drops.
Kind souls, what, weep you when you but be-
hold
Our Caesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here,
Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.
1 Cit. O piteous spectacle !
2 Cit. O noble Csesar !
3 Cit. O woeful day !
4 Cit. O traitors, villains !
1 Cit. O most bloody sight !
2 Cit. We will be revenged : revenge,
about, seek, burn, fire, kill, slay, let
not a traitor live !
Ant. Stay, countrymen.
1 Cit. Peace there ! hear the noble Antony.
2 Cit. We'll hear him, we'll follow him,
we'll die with him.
Ant. Good friends, sweet friends, let me
not stir you up
To such a sudden flood of mutiny.
They that have done this deed are honourable ;
What private griefs they have, alas, I know not,
That made them do it; they are wise and
honourable,
And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you.
I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts :
I am no orator, as Brutus is ;
But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man,
That love my friend ; and that they know full
well
That gave me public leave to speak of him :
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,
To stir men's blood : I only speak right on ;
I tell you that which you yourselves do know ;
Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor
dumb mouths,
And bid them speak for me : but were I Brutus,
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue
In every wound of Csesar, that should move
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
Citizens. We'll mutiny.
I Cit. We'll burn the hou|e of Brutus.
3 Cit. Away, then! come seek the con-
spirators.
Ant. Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear
me speak.
Citizens. Peace, ho! hear Antony, most
noble Antony.
Ant. Why, friends, you go to do you know
not what :
Wherein hath Csesar thus leserv'd your loves?
Alas, you know not, I must tell you, then.
You have forgot the will I told you of.
Citizens. Most true ; the will : let's stay
and hear the will.
Ant. Here is the will and under Caesar's seal
To every Roman citizen he gives,
To every several man, seventy-five drachmas.
2 Cit. Most noble Caesar ! we'll revenge
his death.
3 Cit. O royal Caesar !
Ant. Hear me with patience.
Citizens. Peace, ho !
Ant. Moreover, he hath left you all his walks,
His private arbours, and new-planted orchards
On this side Tiber; he hath left them you,
And to your heirs for ever, common pleasures,
To walk abroad and recreate yourselves.
Here was a Caesar ! when comes such another?
1 Cit. Never, never. Come away, away !
We'll burn his body in the holy place,
And with the brands fire the traitors' houses.
Take up the body.
2 Cit. Go, fetch fire.
3 Cit. Pluck down benches.
4 Cit. Pluck down forms, windows, anything.
[Exeunt Citizens with the body.
Ant. Now let it work : mischief, thou art
afoot.
Take thou what course thou wilt !
Enter a Servant.
How now, fellow !
Serv. Sir, Octavius is already come to Rome.
Ant. Where is he?
Serv. He and Lepidus are at Caesar's house.
Ant. And thither will I straight to visit him :
He comes upon a wish. Fortune is merry,
And in this mood will give us anything.
Serv. I heard him say Brutus and Cassius
Are rid like madmen through the gates of Rome.
Ant. Belike they had some notice of the
people,
How I had mov'd them. Bring me to Octavius.
[Exeitnt.
SCENE III. ROME. A Street.
Enter CINNA the Poet.
Cin. I dreamt to-night that I did feast with
Caesar,
And things unlucky charge my fantasy :
I have no will to wander forth of doors,
Yet something leads me forth.
.rwiA
Enter Citizens.
1 Cit. What is your name?
2 Cit. Whither are you going?
SCENE III.]
JULIUS OESAR.
879
3 Cit. Where do you dwell?
4 Cit. Are you a married man or a bachelor?
2 Cit. Answer every man directly.
1 Cit. Ay, and briefly.
4 Cit. Ay, and wisely.
3 Cit. Ay, and truly, you were best.
Cin. What is my name ? Whither am I
going? Where do I dwell? Am la married
man or a bachelor? Then to answer every
man directly and briefly, wisely and truly.
Wisely, I say I am a bachelor.
2 Cit. That's as much as to say they are
fools that marry : you '11 bear me a bang for
that, I fear. Proceed ; directly.
Cin. Directly, I am going to Caesar's funeral.
1 Cit. As a friend or an enemy?
Cin. As a friend.
2 Cit. That matter is answered directly.
4 Cit. For your dwelling, briefly.
Cin. Briefly I dwell by the Capitol.
3 Cit. Your name, sir, truly.
Cin. Truly my name is Cinna.
I Cit. Tear him to pieces ; he 's a conspirator.
Cin. I am Cinna the poet, I am Cinna the
poet.
4 Cit. Tear him for his bad verses, tear him
for his bad verses.
Cin. I am not Cinna the conspirator.
4 Cit. It is no matter, his name's Cinna;
pluck but his name out of his heart, and turn
him going.
3 Cit. Tear him, tear him! Come, brands,
ho! fire-brands: to Brutus', to Cassius'; burn
all : some to Decius' house, and some to
Casca's ; some to Ligarius' : away, go !
[Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. ROME. A room in ANTONY'S
House.
ANTONY, OCTAVIUS, and LEPIDUS,
seated at a table.
Ant. These many, then, shall die; their
names are prick'd.
Oct. Your brother too must die; consent
you, Lepidus?
Lep. I do consent.
Oct. Prick him down, Antony.
Lep. Upon condition Publius shall not live,
Who is your sister's son, Mark Antony.
Ant. He shall not live ; look, with a spot I
damn him.
But, Lepidus, go you to Caesar's house ;
Fetch the will hither, and we shall determine
How to cut off some charge in legacies.
Lep. What, shall I find you here?
Oct. Or here or at the Capitol.
[Exit LEPIDUS.
Ant. This is a slight unmeritable man,
Meet to be sent on errands : is it fit,
The threefold world divided, he should stand
One of the three to share it?
Oct. So you thought him ;
And took his voice who should be prick'd to
die,
In our black sentence and proscription, [you :
Ant. Octavius, I have seen more days than
And though we lay these honours on this man,
To ease ourselves of divers slanderous loads,
He shall but bear them as the ass bears gold,
To groan and sweat under the business,
Either led or driven as we point the way ;
And having brought our treasure where we will,
Then take we down his load, and turn him off,
Like to the empty ass, to shake his ears
And graze in commons.
Oct. You may do your will :
But he 's a tried and valiant soldier.
Ant. So is my horse, Octavius ; and for that
I do appoint him store of provender :
It is a creature that I teach to fight,
To wind, to stop, to run directly on,
His corporal motion govern'd by my spirit.
And, in some taste, is Lepidus but so ;
He must be taught, and train'd, and bid go
forth;
A barren-spirited fellow ; one that feeds
On abject orts and imitations,
Which, out of use and stal'd by other men,
Begin his fashion : do not talk of him
But as a property. And now, Octavius,
Listen great things. Brutus and Cassius
Are levying powers: we must straight make
head:
Therefore let our alliance be combin'd,
Our best friends made, our means stretch'd ;
And let us presently go sit in council,
How covert matters may be best disclos'd,
And open perils surest answered.
Oct. Let us do so : for we are at the stake,
And bay'd about with many enemies; [fear,
And some that smile have in their hearts, I
Millions of mischiefs. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. Before BRUTUS'S Tent, in the
Camp near Sardis.
Drum. Enter BRUTUS, LUCILIUS, Lucius,
and Soldiers ; TITINIUS and PINDARUS
meeting them.
Bru. Stand, ho !
Lucil. Give the word, ho ! and stand.
88o
JULIUS CESAR.
[ACT rv.
Bru. What now, Luciliusl is Cassius near?
LuciL He is at hand ; and Pindarus is come
To do you salutation from his master.
[PiN. gives a letter to BRU.
Bru. He greets me well. Your master,
Pindarus,
In his own change, or by ill officers,
Hath given me some worthy cause to wish
Things done undone : but if he be at hand
I shall be satisfied.
Pin. I do not doubt
But that my noble master will appear
Such as he is, full of regard and honour.
Bru. He is not doubted. A word, Lucilius ;
How he receiv'd you let me be resolv'd.
Lucil. With courtesy and with respect
enough ;
But not with such familiar instances,
Nor with such free and friendly conference
As he hath us'd of old.
Bru. Thou hast described
A hot friend cooling : ever note, Lucilius,
When love begins to sicken and decay,
It useth an enforced ceremony.
There are no tricks in plain and simple faith :
But hollow men, like horses hot at hand,
Make gallant show and promise of their mettle ;
But when they should endure the bloody spur,
They fall their crests, and, like deceitful jades,
Sink in the trial. Comes his army on?
Lucil. They mean this night in Sardis to be
quarter'd ;
The greater part, the horse in general,
Are come with Cassius. [March within.
Bru. Hark ! he is arriv'd :
March gently on to meet him.
Enter CASSIUS and Soldiers.
Cos. Stand, ho !
Bru. Stand, ho ! speak the word along.
Within. Stand!
Within. Stand!
Within. Stand! [wrong.
Cas. Most noble brother, you have done me
Bru. Judge me, you gods! wrong I mine
enemies?
And, if not so, how should I wrong a brother?
Cas. Brutus, this sober form of yours hides
wrongs ;
And when you do them,
Bru. Cassius, be content;
Speak your griefs softly, I do know you well :
Before the eyes of both our armies here,
Which should perceive nothing but love from us,
J^et us not wrangle: bid them move away;
Then in my tent, Cassius, enlarge your griefs,
And I will give you audience.
Cas. Pindarus,
Bid our commanders lead their charges off
A little from this ground. [man
Bru. Lucilius, do you the like ; and let no
Come to our tent till we have done our con-
ference.
Let Lucius and Titinius guard our door.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. Within the Tent o/ BRUTUS.
Enter BRUTUS and CASSIUS.
Cas. That you have wrong'd me doth appear
in this,
You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella
For taking bribes here of the Sardians ;
Wherein my letters, praying on his side,
Because I knew the man, were slighted off.
Bru. You wrong'd yourself, to write in such
a case.
Cas. In such a time as this it is not meet
That every nice offence should bear his com-
ment.
Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm ;
To sell and mart your offices for gold
To undeservers.
Cas. I an itching palm !
You know that you are Brutus that speak this,
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.
Bru. The name of Cassius honours this cor-
ruption,
And chastisement doth therefore hide his head.
Cas. Chastisement!
Bru. Remember March, the ides of March
remember !
Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake?
What villain touch'd his body, that did stab,
And not for justice? What, shall one of us,
That struck the foremost man of all this world
But for supporting robbers, shall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes,
And sell the mighty space of our large honours
For so much trash as may be grasped thus?
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
Than such a Roman.
Cas, Brutus, bay not me,
I '11 not endure it : you forget yourself
To hedge me in; I am a soldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions.
Bru. Go to; you are not, Cassius.
Cas, I am.
Bru. I say you are not.
Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself;
Have mind upon your health, tempt me no
further.
SCENE III.]
JULIUS CESAR.
881
Bru. Away, slight man !
Cas. Is't possible?
Bru, Hear me, for I will speak.
Must I give way and room to your rash choler?
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?
Cas. O ye gods, ye gods ! must I endure all
this?
Bru. All this ! ay, more : fret till your proud
heart break ;
Go, show your slaves how choleric you are,
And make your bondmen tremble. Must I
budge?
Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch
Under your testy humour? By the gods,
You shall digest the venom of your spleen
Though it do split you ; for from this day forth
I '11 use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter,
When you are waspish.
Cas. Is it come to this?
Bru. You say you are a better soldier:
Let it appear so ; make your vaunting true,
And it shall please me well : for mine own part,
I shall be glad to learn of noble men.
Cas. You wrong me every way ; you wrong
me, Brutus;
I said an elder soldier, not a better:
Did I say better?
Bru. If you did, I care not.
Cas. When Caesar liv'd, he durst not thus
have mov'd me.
Bru. Peace, peace! you durst not so have
tempted him.
Cas. I durst not !
Bru. No.
Cas. What, durst not tempt him !
Bru. For your life you durst not.
Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love;
I may do that I shall be sorry for. [for.
Bru. You have done that you should be sorry
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats ;
For I am arm'd so strong in honesty
That they pass by me as the idle wind,
Which I respect not. I did send to you
For certain sums of gold, which you denied
me;
For I can raise no money by vile means :
By heaven, I had rather coin my heart,
And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring
From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash
By any indirection ; I did send
To you for gold to pay my legions, [Cassius ?
Which you denied me : was that done like
Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so ?
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
To lock such rascal counters from his friends, .
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts,
Dash him to pieces !
Cas. I denied you not.
Bru. You did.
Cas. I did not : he was but a fool that brought
My answer back. Brutus hath riv'd my heart:
A friend should bear his friend's infirmities,
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.
Brtt. I do not, till you practise them on me.
Cas. You love me not.
Bru. I do not like your faults.
Cas. A friendly eye could never see such
faults. [appear
Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do
As huge as high Olympus. [come,
Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius,
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,
For Cassius is aweary of the world ;
Hated by one he loves ; brav'd by his brother ;
Check'd like a bondman ; all his faults observ'd
Set in a notebook, learn'd, and conn'd by rote,
To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep
My spirit from mine eyes ! There is my dagger,
And here my naked breast ; within, a heart
Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold :
If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth ;
I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart :
Strike, as thou didst at Caesar ; for I know,
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst
him better
Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius.
Bru. Sheathe your dagger :
Be angry when you will, it shall have scope ;
Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour.
O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb,
That carries anger as the flint bears fire ;
Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark,
And straight is cold again.
Cas. Hath Cassius livM
To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
When grief and blood ill-temper'd vexeth him ?
Bru. When I spoke that I was ill-temper'd
too. [hand.
Cas. Do you confess so much? Give me your
Bru. And my heart too.
Cas. O Brutus,
Bru. What 's the matter ?
Cos. Have not you love enough to bear with
me, [me
When that rash humour which my mother gave
Makes me forgetful ?
Bru. Yes, Cassius ; and frorn henceforth,
When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,
He '11 think your mother chides, and leave you
so. \Noise within.
Poet. [Within.] Let me go in to see the
generals ;
There is some grudge between 'em ; 'tis not meet
They be alone.
882
JULIUS CAESAR.
[ACT iv.
Lucil. [ Within.} You shall not come to them.
Poet [Within.] Nothing but death shall stay
me.
Enter Poet, followed by LUCILIUS and
TlTINIUS.
Cas. How now ! what 's the matter?
Poet. For shame, you generals ! what do you
mean? [be;
Love, and be friends, as two such men should
For I have seen more years, I 'm sure, than ye.
Cas. Ha, ha ! how vilely doth this cynic
rhyme ! [hence !
Bru. Get you hence, sirrah; saucy fellow,
Cas. Bear with him, Brutus ; 'tis his fashion.
Bru. I '11 know his humour when he knows
his time : [fools ?
What should the wars do vrith these jigging
Companion hence !
Cas. Away, away, be gone I
[Exit Poet.
Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the com-
manders
Prepare to lodge their companies to-night.
Cas. And come yourselves, and bring Me*
with you
Immediately to us.
[Exeunt LuciL. and TIT.
Bru. Lucius, a bowl of wine !
Cas. I did hot think you could have been so
angry.
Bru. O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs.
Cas. Of your philosophy you make no use
If you give place to accidental evils.
Bru. No man bears sorrow better. Portia is
dead.
Cas. Ha! Portia!
Bru. She is dead.
Cas. How scap'd I killing when I cross'd
you so?
O insupportable and touching loss !
Upon what sickness?
Bru. Impatient of my absence,
And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony
Have made themselves so strong ; for with her
death
That tidings came ; with this she fell distract,
And, her attendants absent, swallow'd fire.
Cas. And died so?
Bru. Even so.
CAS. O ye immortal gods.
Enter Lucius with wine and tapers.
Bru. Speak no more of her. Give me a
bowl of wine.---
In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius. -^,^
[Drinks.
Cas. My heart is thirsty for that noble
pledge.
Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup ;
I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love.
[Drinks.
Bru. Come in, Titinius !
Re-enter TITINIUS, with MESSALA.
Welcome, good Messala !
Now sit we close about this taper here,
And call in question our necessities.
Cas. Portia, art thou gone ?
Bru. No more, I pray you.
Messala, I have here received letters,
That young Octavius and Mark Antony
Come down upon us with a mighty power,
Bending their expedition toward Philippi.
Mes. Myself have letters of the self-same
tenor.
Bru. With what addition ?
Mes. That, by proscription and bills of out-
lawry,
Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus
Have put to death an hundred senators.
Bru. Therein our letters do not well agree ;
Mine speak of seventy senators that died
By their proscriptions, Cicero being one.
Cas. Cicero one !
Mes. Cicero is dead,
And by that order of proscription.
Had you your letters from your wife, my lord ?
Bru. No, Messala.
Mes. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her?
Bru. Nothing, Messala.
Mes. That, methinks, is strange.
Bru. Why ask you ? hear you aught of her
in yours ?
Mes. No, my lord.
Bru. Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true.
Mes. Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell :
For certain she is dead, and by strange manner.
Bru. Why, farewell, Portia. We must die,
Messala :
With meditating that she must die once,
I have the patience to endure it now.
Mes. Even so great men great losses should
endure.
Cas. I have as much of this in art as you,
But yet my nature could not bear it so.
Bru. Well, to our work alive. What do you
think
Of marching to Philippi presently ?
Cas. I do not think it good.
Bru. Your reason?
Cas. This it is :
'Tis better that the enemy seek us :
So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers,
SCENE III.]
JULIUS OESAR.
883
Doing himself offence ; whilst we, lying still,
Are full of rest, defence, and nimbleness.
Bru. Good reasons must, of force, give place
to better.
The people 'twixt Philippi and this ground
Do stand but in a forc'd affection ;
For they have grudg'd us contribution :
The enemy, marching along by them,
By them shall make a fuller number up,
Come on refresh'd, new-aided, and encourag'd ;
From which advantage shall we cut him off
If at Philippi we do face him there,
These people at our back.
Cas. Hear me, good brother.
Bru. Under your pardon. You must note
beside,
That we have tried the utmost of our friends,
Our legions are brimful, our cause is ripe :
The enemy increaseth every day ;
We, at the height, are ready to decline.
There is a tide in the affairs of men
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat ;
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.
Cas. Then, with your will, go on ;
We '11 along ourselves, and meet them at
Philippi. [talk,
Bru. The deep of night is crept upon our
And nature must obey necessity ;
Which we will niggard with a little rest.
There is no more to say ?
Cas. No more. Good -night :
Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence.
Bru. Lucius, my gown. [Exit Lucius.]
Farewell good Messala:
Good-night, Titinius ; noble, noble Cassius,
Good-night, and good repose.
Cas. O my dear brother !
This was an ill beginning of the night :
Never come such division 'tween our souls !
Let it not, Brutus.
Bru. Everything is well.
Cas. Good-night, my lord.
Bru. Good -night, good brother.
Tit. and Mes. Good-night, Lord Brutus.
Bru. Farewell, every one.
[Exeunt CAS., TIT., and MES.
Re-enter Lucius with the gown.
Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument?
Luc. Here in the tent.
Bru. What, thou speak'st drowsily !
Poor knave, I blame thee not j thou art o'er-
watch'd.
Call Claudius and some other of my men ;
I '11 have them sleep on cushions in my tent.
Luc. Varro and Claudius !
Enter VARRO and CLAUDIUS.
Var. Calls my lord? [sleep;
Brti. I pray you, sirs, lie in my tent and
It may be I shall raise you by and by
On business to my brother Cassius.
Var. So please you we will stand and watch
your pleasure. [sirs ;
Bru. I will not have it so: lie down, good
It may be I shall otherwise bethink me.
Look, Lucius, here 's the book I sought for so ;
I put it in the pocket of my gown.
[VAR. and CLAUD, lie down.
Luc. I was sure your lordship did not give
it me. [forgetful.
Bru. Bear with me, good boy, I am much
Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile,
And touch thy instrument a strain or two?
Luc. Ay, my lord, an 't please you.
Bru. It does, my boy :
I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.
Luc. It is my duty, sir. [might ;
Bru. I should not urge thy duty past thy
I know young bloods look for a time of rest.
Luc. I have slept, my lord, already.
Bru. It was well done; and thou shalt
sleep again ;
I will not hold thee long : if I do live
I will be good to thee. [ Music and a Song.
This is a sleepy tune. O murderous slumber,
Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy
That plays the music? Gentle knave, good-
night ;
I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee :
If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument ;
I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good-
night.
Let me see, let me see ; is not the leaf turn'd
down
Where I left reading? Here it is, I think.
[Sits down.
Enter the Ghost 0/OESAR.
How ill this taper burns! Ha! who comes
here?
I think it is the weakness of mine eyes
That shapes this monstrous apparition.
It comes upon me. Art thou anything?
Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil,
That mak'st my blood cold and my hair to
stare?
Speak to me what thou art.
Ghost. Thy evil spirit, Brutus.
Bru. Why com'st thou?
884
JULIUS CESAR.
L ACT V.
Ghost. To tell thee thou shalt see me at
Philippi.
Bru. Well;
Then I shall see thee again?
Ghost. Ay, at Philippi.
Bru. Why, I will see thee at Philippi,
then. [Exit Ghost.
Now I have taken heart thou vanishest :
111 spirit, I would hold more talk with thee.
Boy Lucius ! Varrol Claudius ! sirs, awake !
Claudius !
Luc. The strings, my lord, are false.
Bru. He thinks he still is at his instrument.
Lucius, awake !
Luc. My lord?
Bru. Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou
so criedst out?
Luc. My lord, I do not know that I did cry.
Bru. Yes, that thou didst: didst thou see
anything ?
Luc. Nothing, my lord.
Bru. Sleep again, Lucius. Sirrah, Claudius !
Fellow, thou, awake !
Var. My lord?
Clou. My lord?
Bru. Why did you cry so out, sirs, in your
sleep?
Var. and Clau. Did we, my lord ?
Bru. Ay : saw you anything ?
Var. No, my lord, I saw nothing.
Clau. Nor I, my lord.
Bru. Go and commend me to my brother
Cassius ;
Bid him set on his powers betimes before,
And we will follow.
Var. and Clau. It shall be done, my lord.
[Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I. The Plains of Pkilippi.
Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, and their Army.
Oct. Now, Antony, our hopes are answered :
You said the enemy would not come down,
But keep the hills and upper regions ;
It proves not so : their battles are at hand
They mean to warn us at Philippi here,
Answering before we do demand of them.
Ant. Tut, I am in their bosoms, and I know
Wherefore they do it : they could be content
To visit other places ; and come down
With fearful bravery, thinking by this face
To fasten in our thoughts that they have
courage j
But 'tis not so.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Prepare you, generals :
The enemy comes on in gallant show ;
Their bloody sign of battle is hung out,
And something to be done immediately.
Ant. Octavius, lead your battle softly on,
Upon the left hand of the even field.
? Oct. Upon the right hand I; keep thou
the left.
Ant. Why do you cross me in this exigent ?
Oct. I do not cross you ; but I will do so.
[March.
Drum. Enter BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and their
Army; LUCILIUS, TiTiNius, MESSALA,
and others.
Bru. They stand, and would have parley.
Cas. Stand fast, Titinius : we must out and
talk. [battle?
Oct. Mark Antony, shall we give sign of
Ant. No, Caesar, we will answer on their
charge. [words.
Make forth; the generals would have some
Oct. Stir not until the signal. [men ?
Bru. Words before blows : is it so, country-
Oct. Not that we love words better, as you do.
Bru. Good words are better than bad strokes,
Octavius.
Ant. In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give
good words:
Witness the hole you made in Caesar's heart,
Crying, Long- live! hail, Cczsar!
Cas. Antony,
The posture of your blows are yet unknown ;
But for your words, they rob the Hybla bees,
And leave them honeyless.
Ant. Not stingless too.
Bru. O yes, and soundless too;
For you have stol'n their buzzing, Antony,
And very wisely threat before you sting.
Ant. Villains, you did not so when your
vile daggers
Hack'd one another in the sides of Caesar :
You show'd your teeth like apes, and fawn'd
like hounds,
And bow'd like bondmen, kissing Caesar's feet ;
Whilst damned Casca, like a cur, behind,
Struck Caesar on the neck. O you flatterers !
Cas. Flatterers 1 Now, Brutus, thank your-
self:
This tongue had not offended so to-day
If Cassius might have rul'd.
Oct. Come, come, the cause: if arguing
make us sweat,
The proof of it will turn to redder drops.
Look,
SCENE I.]
JULIUS CESAR.
885
I draw a sword against conspirators ;
When think you that the sword goes up again ?
Never till Caesar's three-and-thirty wounds
Be well aveng'd ; or till another Caesar
Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors.
Brit. Caesar, thou canst not die by traitors'
hands,
Unless thou bring'st them with thee.
Oct. So I hope ;
I was not born to die on Brutus' sword.
Bru. O, if thou wert the noblest of thy strain,
Young man, thou couldst not die more honour-
able.
Cos. A peevish school-boy, worthless of
such honour,
Join'd with a masker and a reveller !
Ant. Old Cassius still !
Oct. Come, Antony; away!
Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth:
If you dare fight to-day, come to the field ;
If not, when you have stomachs.
[Exeunt OCT., ANT., and their Army.
Cas. Why, now, blow wind, swell billow,
a. id swim bark !
The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.
Bru. Ho, Lucilius ! hark, a word with you.
Lucil. My lord.
[BRU and LUCIL. converse apart.
Cas. Messala,
Mes. What says my general ?
Cas. Messala,
This is my birth-day ; as this very day
Was Cassius bom. Give me thy hand Messala :
Be thou my witness that, against my will,
As Pompey was, am I compell'd to set
Upon one battle all our liberties.
You know that I held Epicurus strong,
And his opinion : now I change my mind,
And partly credit things that do presage.
Coming from Sardis, on our former ensign
Two mighty eagles fell ; and there they perch'd,
Gorging and feeding from our soldiers' hands ;
Who to Philippi here consorted us :
This morning are they fled away and gone ;
And in their steads do ravens, crows, and kites
Fly o'er our heads, and downward look on us,
As we were sickly prey : their shadows seem
A canopy most fatal, under which
Our army lies, ready to give up the ghost.
Mes. Believe not so.
Cas. I but believe it partly ;
For I am fresh of spirit ; and resolv'd
To meet all perils very constantly.
Bru. Even so, Lucilius.
Cas. Now, most noble Brutus,
The gods to-day stand friendly, that we may,
Lovers of peace, lead on our days to age !
But, since the affairs of men rest still incertain,
Let 's reason with the worst that may befall.
If we do lose this battle, then is this
The very last time we shall speak together :
What are you, then, determined to do ?
Bru. Even by the rule of that philosophy
By which I did blame Cato for the death
Which he did give himself. f know not how,
But I do find it cowardly and vile,
For fear of what might fall, so to prevent
The time of life : arming myself with patience
To stay the providence of some high powers
That govern us below.
Cas. Then, if we lose this battle,
You are contented to be led in triumph
Through the streets of Rome? [Roman,
Bru. No, Cassius, no : think not, thou noble
That ever Brutus will go bound to Rome ;
He bears too great a mind. But this same day
Must end that work the ides of March began ;
And whether we shall meet again I know not.
Therefore our everlasting farewell take :
For ever, and for ever, farewell, Cassius !
If we do meet again, why, we shall smile ;
If not, why, then, this parting was well made.
Cas. For ever, and for ever, farewell, Brutus !
If we do meet again we'll smile indeed ;
If not, 'tis true this parting was well made.
Bru. Why, then, lead on. O that a man
might know
The end of this day's business ere it come !
But it sumceth that the day will end,
And then the end is known. Come, ho !
away ! [Exeunt.
SCENE II. THE PLAINS OF PHILIPPI. The
Field of Battle.
Alarum. Enter BRUTUS and MESSALA.
Bru. Ride, ride, Messala, ride, and give
these bills
Unto the legions on the other side :
[Lmid alarum.
Let them set on at once ; for I perceive
But cold demeanour in Octavius' wing,
And sudden push gives them the overthrow.
Ride, ride, Messala : let them all come down.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. THE PLAINS OF PHILIPPI.
Another part of the Fifld.
Alarum. Enter CASSIUS and TITINIUS.
Cas. O look, Titinius, }cck, the villains fly 1
Myself have to mine own turn'd enemy :
This ensign here of mine was turning back ;
I slew the coward, and did take it from him.
886
JULIUS CESAR.
[ACT v.
Tit. O Casskis, Brutus gave the word too
early ;
Who, having some advantage on Octavius,
Took it too eagerly : his soldiers fell to spoil :
Whilst we by Antony are all enclos'd.
Enter PiNDARUS.
Pin. Fly further off, my lord, fly further off ;
Mark Antony is in your tents, my lord !
Fly, therefore, noble Cassius ! fly far off.
Cas. This hill is far enough. Look, look,
Titinius ;
Are those my tents where I perceive the fire ?
Tit. They are, my lord..
Cas. Titinius, if thou lov'st me,
Mount thou my horse, and hide thy spurs in him,
Till he have brought thee up to yonder troops
And here again, that I may rest assur'd
Whether yond troops are friend or enemy.
Tit. I will be here again even with a thought.
[Exit.
Cas. Go, Pindarus, get higher on that hill ;
My sight was ever thick ; regard Titinius,
And tell me what thou not'st about the field.
[Exit PINDARUS.
This day I breathed first : time is come round,
And where I did begin there shall I end ;
My life is run his compass. Sirrah, what news ?
Pin. [Above.] O my lord !
Cas. What news ?
Pin. Titinius is enclosed round about
With horsemen, that make to him on the spur;
Yet he spurs on. Now they are almost on
him ;
Now, Titinius! now some 'light: O, he 'lights
too:
He 's ta'en j and, hark ! they shout for joy.
[Shout.
Cas. Come down, behold no more.
O, coward that I am, to live so long,
To see my best friend ta'en before my face !
Enter PINDARUS.
Come hither, sirrah :
In Parthia did I take thee prisoner ;
And then I swore thee, saving of thy life,
That whatsoever I did bid thee do
Thou shouldst attempt it. Come now, keep
thine oath !
Now be a freeman ; and with this good sword,
That ran through Caesar's bowels, search this
bosom.
Stand not to answer : here, take thou the hilts ;
And when my face is cover'd, as 'tis now,
Guide thou the sword. Caesar, thou art re-
veng'd,
Even with the sword that kill'd thee. [Dies.
Pin. So, I am free ; yet would not so have
been,
Durst I have done my will. O Cassius !
Far from this country Pindarus shall run,
Where never Roman shall take note of him.
[Exit.
Re-enter TITINIUS, -with MESSALA.
Mes. It is but change, Titinius ; for Octavius
Is overthrown by noble Brutus' power,
As Cassius' legions are by Antony.
Tit. These tidings will well comfort Cassius.
Mes. Where did you leave him ?
Tit. All disconsolate,
With Pindarus, his bondman, on this hill.
Mes. Is not that he that lies upon the ground?
Tit. He lies not like the living. O my heart !
Mes, Is not that he ?
Tit. No, this was he, Messala,
But Cassius is no more. O setting sun,
As in thy red rays thou dost sink to-night,
So in his red blood Cassius' day is set,
The sun of Rome is set ! Our day is gone ;
Clouds, dews, and dangers come; our deeds
are done !
Mistrust of my success hath done this deed.
Mes. Mistrust of good success hath done this
deed.
O hateful error, melancholy's child,
Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men
The things that are not ? O error, soon conceiv'd,
Thou never com'st unto a happy birth,
But kill'st the mother that engender'd thee !
Tit. What, Pindarus ! where art thou, Pin-
darus?
Mes. Seek him, Titinius : whilst I go to meet
The noble Brutus, thrusting this report
Into his ears: I may say, thrusting it;
For piercing steel and darts envenomed
Shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus
As tidings of this sight.
Tit. " Hie you, Messala,
[Exit MESSALA.
And I will seek for Pindarus the while.
Why didst thou send me forth, brave Cassius?
Did I not meet thy friends? and did not they
Put on my brows this wreath of victory,
And bid me giv 't thee? Didst thou not hear
their shouts?
Alas, thou hast misconstru'd everything.
But, hold thee, take this garland on thy brow,
Thy Brutus bid me give it thee, and I
Will do his bidding. Brutus, come apace,
And see how I regarded Caius Cassius.
By your leave, gods. This is a Roman's part:
Come, Cassius' sword, and find Titinius' heart.
[Dies.
SCENE IV.]
JULIUS CESAR.
887
Alarum. Re-enter MESSALA, with BRUTUS,
YOUNG CATO, STRATO, VOLUMNIUS, and
LUCILIUS.
Bru. Where, where, Messala, doth his body
lie?
Mes. Lo, yonder ; and Titinius mourning it.
Bru. Titinius' face is upward.
Cato. He is slain.
Bru. O Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet !
Thy spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords
In our own proper entrails. [Low alarums.
Cato. Brave Titinius !
Look, whe'r he have notcrowivd dead Cassius!
Bru. Are yet two Romans living such as
these ?
The last of all the Romans, fare thee well !
It is impossible that ever Rome [tears
Should breed thy fellow. Friends, I owe more
To this dead man than you shall see me pay.
I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time.
Come, therefore, and to Thassos send his body :
His funerals shall not be in our camp,
Lest it discomfort us. Lucilius, come ;
And come, young Cato ; let us to the field.
Labeo and Flavius, set our battles on:
'Tis three o'clock ; and, Romans, yet ere night
We shall try fortune in a second fight.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV. Another part of the Field.
Alarum. Enter, fighting. Soldiers of both
Armies ; then BRUTUS, YOUNG CATO, LU-
CILIUS, and others.
Bru. Yet, countrymen, O, yet hold up your
heads ! [with me?
Cato. W 7 hat bastard doth not ? Who will go
I will proclaim my name about the field :
I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho !
A foe to tyrants, and my country's friend ;
I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho !
[Charges the enemy.
Bru. And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I ;
Brutus, my country's friend ; know me for
Brutus !
[Exit, charging the enemy. YOUNG CATO
is overpowered, and falls.
Lucil. O young and noble Cat, art thou
down?
Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinius ;
And mayst be honour'd, being Cato's son.
i Sold. Yield, or thou diest.
Lucil. Only I yield to die ?
There is so much that thou wilt kill me straight ;
[ Offering money.
Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death.
1 Sold. We must not. A noble prisoner !
2 Sold. Room, ho ! Tell Antony Brutus is
ta'en. [general.
i Sold. I '11 tell the news. Here comes the
Enter ANTONY.
Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en, my lord.
Ant. Where is he?
Lucil. Safe, Antony ; Brutus is safe enough:
I dare assure thee that no enemy
Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus :
The gods defend him from so great a shame !
When you do find him, or alive or dead,
He will be found like Brutus, like himself.
Ant. This is not Brutus, friend ; but, I assure
you,
A prize no less in worth : keep this man safe,
Give him all kindness : I had rather have
Such men my friends than enemies. G on,
And see whe'r Brutus be alive or dead ;
And bring us word unto Octavius' tent
How everything is chanc'd. [Exeunt.
SCENE V. Another part of the Field.
Enter BRUTUS, DARDANIUS, CLITUS, STRATO,
and VOLUMNIUS.
Bru. Come, poor remains of friends, rest on
this rock.
Cli. Statilius show'd the torch-light ; but,
my lord,
He came not back : he is or ta'en or slain.
Bru. Sit thee down, Clitus : slaying is the
word ;
It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus.
[ Whispering him.
Cli. What, I, my lord ? No, not for all the
world.
Bru. Peace, then, no words.
Cli. I '11 rather kill myself.
Bru. Hark thee, Dardanius !
[ Whispers him.
Dar. Shall I do such a deed ?
Cli. O Dardanius !
Dar. O Clitus !
Cli. What ill request did Brutus make to thee?
Dar. To kill him, Clitus. Look, he medi-
tates.
Cli. Now is that noble vessel full of grief,
That it runs over even at his eyes. [word.
Bru. Come hither, good Volumnius ; list a
Vol. What says my lord ?
Bru. Why, this, Volumnius :
The ghost of Csesar hath appear'd to me
Two several times by night, at Sardis once,
And this last night here in Philippi fields :
I know my hour is come.
JULIUS CESAR.
[ACT v.
Vol. Not so, my lord.
Bru. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius.
Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes;
Our enemies have beat us to the pit :
[Low alarums.
It is more worthy to leap in ourselves
Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius,
Thou know'st that we two went to school to-
gether :
Even for that our love of old, I pray thee,
Hold thou my sword-hilts whilst I run on it.
Vol. That 's not an office for a friend, my lord.
[Alarum still.
Cli. Fly, fly, my lord ; there is no tarrying
here. [Volumnius.
Bru. Farewell to you ; and you ; and you,
Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep ;
Farewell to thee too, Strato. Countrymen,
My heart doth joy that yet, in all my life,
I found no man but he was true to me.
I shall have glory by this losing day
More than Octavius and Mark Antony
By this vile conquest shall attain unto.
So, fare you well at once ; for Brutus' tongue
Hath almost ended his life's history :
Night hangs upon mine eyes ; my bones would
rest,
That have but labour'd to attain this hour.
[Alarum. Cry within^ " Fly, fly, fly ! "
Cli. Fly, my lord, fly.
, Bru. Hence ! I will follow.
[Exeunt CLI., DAR., and\oi
I pr'ythee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord :
Thou art a fellow of a good respect ;
Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it:
Hold, then, my sword, and turn away thy face,
While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato ?
Stra. Give me your hand first : fare you well,
my lord.
Bru. Farewell, good Strato. Caesar, now
be still :
I kill'd not thee with half so good a will.
[He runs on his sword^ and dies.
Alarum. Retreat. Enter OCTAVIUS, AN-
TONY, and Army ; MESSALA and LUCILIUS,
prisoners.
Oct. What man is that ?
Mes. My master's man. Strato, where is
thy master ? [Messala :
Stra. Free from the bondage you are in,
The conquerors can but make a fire of him ;
For Brutus only overcame himself,
And no man else hath honour by his death.
Lucil. So Brutus should be found. I thank
thee, Brutus,
That thou hast prov'd Lucilius' saying true.
Oct. All that serv'd Brutus I will entertain
them.
Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me ?
Stra. Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you.
Oct. Do so, good Messala.
Mes. How died my master, Strato ?
Stra. I held the sword, and he did run on it.
Mes. Octavius, then take him to follow thee,
That did the latest service to my master.
Ant. This was the noblest Roman of them
all:
All the conspirators, save only he,
Did that they did in envy of great Cassar ;
He only, in a general honest thought,
And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle ; and the elements
So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up
And say to all the world, This was a man !
Oct. According to his virtue, let us use him
With all respect and rites of burial.
Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie,
Most like a soldier, order'd honourably.
So, call the field to rest : and let 's away,
To part the glories of this happy day.
[Exeztni.
