Shakespeare's First Folio (part 2 of 12)

Shakespeare's First Folio (part 2 of 12)

Enter Dromio. Sir.

S.Dro. Master, here's the gold you sent me for: what haue you got the picture of old Adam new apparel'd? Ant. What gold is this? What Adam do'st thou meane? S.Dro. Not that Adam that kept the Paradise: but that Adam that keepes the prison; hee that goes in the calues-skin, that was kil'd for the Prodigall: hee that came behinde you sir, like an euill angel, and bid you forsake your libertie

Ant. I vnderstand thee not

S.Dro. No? why 'tis a plaine case: he that went like a Base-Viole in a case of leather; the man sir, that when gentlemen are tired giues them a sob, and rests them: he sir, that takes pittie on decaied men, and giues them suites of durance: he that sets vp his rest to doe more exploits with his Mace, then a Moris Pike

Ant. What thou mean'st an officer? S.Dro. I sir, the Serieant of the Band: he that brings any man to answer it that breakes his Band: one that thinkes a man alwaies going to bed, and saies, God giue you good rest

Ant. Well sir, there rest in your foolerie: Is there any ships puts forth to night? may we be gone? S.Dro. Why sir, I brought you word an houre since, that the Barke Expedition put forth to night, and then were you hindred by the Serieant to tarry for the Hoy Delay: Here are the angels that you sent for to deliuer you

Ant. The fellow is distract, and so am I, And here we wander in illusions: Some blessed power deliuer vs from hence.

Enter a Curtizan.

Cur. Well met, well met, Master Antipholus: I see sir you haue found the Gold-smith now: Is that the chaine you promis'd me to day

Ant. Sathan auoide, I charge thee tempt me not

S.Dro. Master, is this Mistris Sathan? Ant. It is the diuell

S.Dro. Nay, she is worse, she is the diuels dam: And here she comes in the habit of a light wench, and thereof comes, that the wenches say God dam me, That's as much to say, God make me a light wench: It is written, they appeare to men like angels of light, light is an effect of fire, and fire will burne: ergo, light wenches will burne, come not neere her

Cur. Your man and you are maruailous merrie sir. Will you goe with me, wee'll mend our dinner here? S.Dro. Master, if do expect spoon-meate, or bespeake a long spoone

Ant. Why Dromio? S.Dro. Marrie he must haue a long spoone that must eate with the diuell

Ant. Auoid then fiend, what tel'st thou me of supping? Thou art, as you are all a sorceresse: I coniure thee to leaue me, and be gon

Cur. Giue me the ring of mine you had at dinner, Or for my Diamond the Chaine you promis'd, And Ile be gone sir, and not trouble you

S.Dro. Some diuels aske but the parings of ones naile, a rush, a haire, a drop of blood, a pin, a nut, a cherriestone: but she more couetous, wold haue a chaine: Master be wise, and if you giue it her, the diuell will shake her Chaine, and fright vs with it

Cur. I pray you sir my Ring, or else the Chaine, I hope you do not meane to cheate me so? Ant. Auant thou witch: Come Dromio let vs go

S.Dro. Flie pride saies the Pea-cocke, Mistris that you know.

Enter.

Cur. Now out of doubt Antipholus is mad, Else would he neuer so demeane himselfe, A Ring he hath of mine worth fortie Duckets, And for the same he promis'd me a Chaine, Both one and other he denies me now: The reason that I gather he is mad, Besides this present instance of his rage, Is a mad tale he told to day at dinner, Of his owne doores being shut against his entrance. Belike his wife acquainted with his fits, On purpose shut the doores against his way: My way is now to hie home to his house, And tell his wife, that being Lunaticke, He rush'd into my house, and tooke perforce My Ring away. This course I fittest choose, For fortie Duckets is too much to loose.

Enter Antipholus Ephes. with a Iailor.

An. Feare me not man, I will not breake away, Ile giue thee ere I leaue thee so much money To warrant thee as I am rested for. My wife is in a wayward moode to day, And will not lightly trust the Messenger, That I should be attach'd in Ephesus, I tell you 'twill sound harshly in her eares.

Enter Dromio Eph. with a ropes end.

Heere comes my Man, I thinke he brings the monie. How now sir? Haue you that I sent you for? E.Dro. Here's that I warrant you will pay them all

Anti. But where's the Money? E.Dro. Why sir, I gaue the Monie for the Rope

Ant. Fiue hundred Duckets villaine for a rope? E.Dro. Ile serue you sir fiue hundred at the rate

Ant. To what end did I bid thee hie thee home? E.Dro. To a ropes end sir, and to that end am I return'd

Ant. And to that end sir, I will welcome you

Offi. Good sir be patient

E.Dro. Nay 'tis for me to be patient, I am in aduersitie

Offi. Good now hold thy tongue

E.Dro. Nay, rather perswade him to hold his hands

Anti. Thou whoreson senselesse Villaine

E.Dro. I would I were senselesse sir, that I might not feele your blowes

Anti. Thou art sensible in nothing but blowes, and so is an Asse

E.Dro. I am an Asse indeede, you may prooue it by my long eares. I haue serued him from the houre of my Natiuitie to this instant, and haue nothing at his hands for my seruice but blowes. When I am cold, he heates me with beating: when I am warme, he cooles me with beating: I am wak'd with it when I sleepe, rais'd with it when I sit, driuen out of doores with it when I goe from home, welcom'd home with it when I returne, nay I beare it on my shoulders, as a begger woont her brat: and I thinke when he hath lam'd me, I shall begge with it from doore to doore.

Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtizan, and a Schoolemaster, call'd Pinch.

Ant. Come goe along, my wife is comming yonder

E.Dro. Mistris respice finem, respect your end, or rather the prophesie like the Parrat, beware the ropes end

Anti. Wilt thou still talke?

Beats Dro.

Curt. How say you now? Is not your husband mad? Adri. His inciuility confirmes no lesse: Good Doctor Pinch, you are a Coniurer, Establish him in his true sence againe, And I will please you what you will demand

Luc. Alas how fiery, and how sharpe he lookes

Cur. Marke, how he trembles in his extasie

Pinch. Giue me your hand, and let mee feele your pulse

Ant. There is my hand, and let it feele your eare

Pinch. I charge thee Sathan, hous'd within this man, To yeeld possession to my holie praiers, And to thy state of darknesse hie thee straight, I coniure thee by all the Saints in heauen

Anti. Peace doting wizard, peace; I am not mad

Adr. Oh that thou wer't not, poore distressed soule

Anti. You Minion you, are these your Customers? Did this Companion with the saffron face Reuell and feast it at my house to day, Whil'st vpon me the guiltie doores were shut, And I denied to enter in my house

Adr. O husband, God doth know you din'd at home Where would you had remain'd vntill this time, Free from these slanders, and this open shame

Anti. Din'd at home? Thou Villaine, what sayest thou? Dro. Sir sooth to say, you did not dine at home

Ant. Were not my doores lockt vp, and I shut out? Dro. Perdie, your doores were lockt, and you shut out

Anti. And did not she her selfe reuile me there? Dro. Sans Fable, she her selfe reuil'd you there

Anti. Did not her Kitchen maide raile, taunt, and scorne me? Dro. Certis she did, the kitchin vestall scorn'd you

Ant. And did not I in rage depart from thence? Dro. In veritie you did, my bones beares witnesse, That since haue felt the vigor of his rage

Adr. Is't good to sooth him in these contraries? Pinch. It is no shame, the fellow finds his vaine, And yeelding to him, humors well his frensie

Ant. Thou hast subborn'd the Goldsmith to arrest mee

Adr. Alas, I sent you Monie to redeeme you, By Dromio heere, who came in hast for it

Dro. Monie by me? Heart and good will you might, But surely Master not a ragge of Monie

Ant. Wentst not thou to her for a purse of Duckets

Adri. He came to me, and I deliuer'd it

Luci. And I am witnesse with her that she did: Dro. God and the Rope-maker beare me witnesse, That I was sent for nothing but a rope

Pinch. Mistris, both Man and Master is possest, I know it by their pale and deadly lookes, They must be bound and laide in some darke roome

Ant. Say wherefore didst thou locke me forth to day, And why dost thou denie the bagge of gold? Adr. I did not gentle husband locke thee forth

Dro. And gentle Mr I receiu'd no gold: But I confesse sir, that we were lock'd out

Adr. Dissembling Villain, thou speak'st false in both Ant. Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all, And art confederate with a damned packe, To make a loathsome abiect scorne of me: But with these nailes, Ile plucke out these false eyes, That would behold in me this shamefull sport.

Enter three or foure, and offer to binde him: Hee striues.

Adr. Oh binde him, binde him, let him not come neere me

Pinch. More company, the fiend is strong within him Luc. Aye me poore man, how pale and wan he looks

Ant. What will you murther me, thou Iailor thou? I am thy prisoner, wilt thou suffer them to make a rescue? Offi. Masters let him go: he is my prisoner, and you shall not haue him

Pinch. Go binde this man, for he is franticke too

Adr. What wilt thou do, thou peeuish Officer? Hast thou delight to see a wretched man Do outrage and displeasure to himselfe? Offi. He is my prisoner, if I let him go, The debt he owes will be requir'd of me

Adr. I will discharge thee ere I go from thee, Beare me forthwith vnto his Creditor, And knowing how the debt growes I will pay it. Good Master Doctor see him safe conuey'd Home to my house, oh most vnhappy day

Ant. Oh most vnhappie strumpet

Dro. Master, I am heere entred in bond for you

Ant. Out on thee Villaine, wherefore dost thou mad mee? Dro. Will you be bound for nothing, be mad good Master, cry the diuell

Luc. God helpe poore soules, how idlely doe they talke

Adr. Go beare him hence, sister go you with me: Say now, whose suite is he arrested at?

Exeunt. Manet Offic. Adri. Luci. Courtizan

Off. One Angelo a Goldsmith, do you know him? Adr. I know the man: what is the summe he owes? Off. Two hundred Duckets

Adr. Say, how growes it due

Off. Due for a Chaine your husband had of him

Adr. He did bespeake a Chain for me, but had it not

Cur. When as your husband all in rage to day Came to my house, and tooke away my Ring, The Ring I saw vpon his finger now, Straight after did I meete him with a Chaine

Adr. It may be so, but I did neuer see it. Come Iailor, bring me where the Goldsmith is, I long to know the truth heereof at large.

Enter Antipholus Siracusia with his Rapier drawne, and Dromio Sirac.

Luc. God for thy mercy, they are loose againe

Adr. And come with naked swords, Let's call more helpe to haue them bound againe.

Runne all out.

Off. Away, they'l kill vs.

Exeunt. omnes, as fast as may be, frighted.

S.Ant. I see these Witches are affraid of swords

S.Dro. She that would be your wife, now ran from you

Ant. Come to the Centaur, fetch our stuffe from thence: I long that we were safe and sound aboord

Dro. Faith stay heere this night, they will surely do vs no harme: you saw they speake vs faire, giue vs gold: me thinkes they are such a gentle Nation, that but for the Mountaine of mad flesh that claimes mariage of me, I could finde in my heart to stay heere still, and turne Witch

Ant. I will not stay to night for all the Towne, Therefore away, to get our stuffe aboord.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.

Enter the Merchant and the Goldsmith.

Gold. I am sorry Sir that I haue hindred you, But I protest he had the Chaine of me, Though most dishonestly he doth denie it

Mar. How is the man esteem'd heere in the Citie? Gold. Of very reuerent reputation sir, Of credit infinite, highly belou'd, Second to none that liues heere in the Citie: His word might beare my wealth at any time

Mar. Speake softly, yonder as I thinke he walkes.

Enter Antipholus and Dromio againe.

Gold. 'Tis so: and that selfe chaine about his necke, Which he forswore most monstrously to haue. Good sir draw neere to me, Ile speake to him: Signior Antipholus, I wonder much That you would put me to this shame and trouble, And not without some scandall to your selfe, With circumstance and oaths, so to denie This Chaine, which now you weare so openly. Beside the charge, the shame, imprisonment, You haue done wrong to this my honest friend, Who but for staying on our Controuersie, Had hoisted saile, and put to sea to day: This Chaine you had of me, can you deny it? Ant. I thinke I had, I neuer did deny it

Mar. Yes that you did sir, and forswore it too

Ant. Who heard me to denie it or forsweare it? Mar. These eares of mine thou knowst did hear thee: Fie on thee wretch, 'tis pitty that thou liu'st To walke where any honest men resort

Ant. Thou art a Villaine to impeach me thus, Ile proue mine honor, and mine honestie Against thee presently, if thou dar'st stand: Mar. I dare and do defie thee for a villaine.

They draw. Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtezan, & others.

Adr. Hold, hurt him not for God sake, he is mad, Some get within him, take his sword away: Binde Dromio too, and beare them to my house

S.Dro. Runne master run, for Gods sake take a house, This is some Priorie, in, or we are spoyl'd.

Exeunt. to the Priorie.

Enter Ladie Abbesse.

Ab. Be quiet people, wherefore throng you hither? Adr. To fetch my poore distracted husband hence, Let vs come in, that we may binde him fast, And beare him home for his recouerie

Gold. I knew he was not in his perfect wits

Mar. I am sorry now that I did draw on him

Ab. How long hath this possession held the man

Adr. This weeke he hath beene heauie, sower sad, And much different from the man he was: But till this afternoone his passion Ne're brake into extremity of rage

Ab. Hath he not lost much wealth by wrack of sea, Buried some deere friend, hath not else his eye Stray'd his affection in vnlawfull loue, A sinne preuailing much in youthfull men, Who giue their eies the liberty of gazing. Which of these sorrowes is he subiect too? Adr. To none of these, except it be the last, Namely, some loue that drew him oft from home

Ab. You should for that haue reprehended him

Adr. Why so I did

Ab. I but not rough enough

Adr. As roughly as my modestie would let me

Ab. Haply in priuate

Adr. And in assemblies too

Ab. I, but not enough

Adr. It was the copie of our Conference. In bed he slept not for my vrging it, At boord he fed not for my vrging it: Alone, it was the subiect of my Theame: In company I often glanced it: Still did I tell him, it was vilde and bad

Ab. And thereof came it, that the man was mad. The venome clamors of a iealous woman, Poisons more deadly then a mad dogges tooth. It seemes his sleepes were hindred by thy railing, And thereof comes it that his head is light. Thou saist his meate was sawc'd with thy vpbraidings, Vnquiet meales make ill digestions, Thereof the raging fire of feauer bred, And what's a Feauer, but a fit of madnesse? Thou sayest his sports were hindred by thy bralles. Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue But moodie and dull melancholly, Kinsman to grim and comfortlesse dispaire, And at her heeles a huge infectious troope Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life? In food, in sport, and life-preseruing rest To be disturb'd, would mad or man, or beast: The consequence is then, thy iealous fits Hath scar'd thy husband from the vse of wits

Luc. She neuer reprehended him but mildely, When he demean'd himselfe, rough, rude, and wildly, Why beare you these rebukes, and answer not? Adri. She did betray me to my owne reproofe, Good people enter, and lay hold on him

Ab. No, not a creature enters in my house

Ad. Then let your seruants bring my husband forth Ab. Neither: he tooke this place for sanctuary, And it shall priuiledge him from your hands, Till I haue brought him to his wits againe, Or loose my labour in assaying it

Adr. I will attend my husband, be his nurse, Diet his sicknesse, for it is my Office, And will haue no atturney but my selfe, And therefore let me haue him home with me

Ab. Be patient, for I will not let him stirre, Till I haue vs'd the approoued meanes I haue, With wholsome sirrups, drugges, and holy prayers To make of him a formall man againe: It is a branch and parcell of mine oath, A charitable dutie of my order, Therefore depart, and leaue him heere with me

Adr. I will not hence, and leaue my husband heere: And ill it doth beseeme your holinesse To separate the husband and the wife

Ab. Be quiet and depart, thou shalt not haue him

Luc. Complaine vnto the Duke of this indignity

Adr. Come go, I will fall prostrate at his feete, And neuer rise vntill my teares and prayers Haue won his grace to come in person hither, And take perforce my husband from the Abbesse

Mar. By this I thinke the Diall points at fiue: Anon I'me sure the Duke himselfe in person Comes this way to the melancholly vale; The place of depth, and sorrie execution, Behinde the ditches of the Abbey heere

Gold. Vpon what cause? Mar. To see a reuerent Siracusian Merchant, Who put vnluckily into this Bay Against the Lawes and Statutes of this Towne, Beheaded publikely for his offence

Gold. See where they come, we wil behold his death Luc. Kneele to the Duke before he passe the Abbey.

Enter the Duke of Ephesus, and the Merchant of Siracuse bare head, with the Headsman, & other Officers.

Duke. Yet once againe proclaime it publikely, If any friend will pay the summe for him, He shall not die, so much we tender him

Adr. Iustice most sacred Duke against the Abbesse

Duke. She is a vertuous and a reuerend Lady, It cannot be that she hath done thee wrong

Adr. May it please your Grace, Antipholus my husba[n]d, Who I made Lord of me, and all I had, At your important Letters this ill day, A most outragious fit of madnesse tooke him: That desp'rately he hurried through the streete, With him his bondman, all as mad as he, Doing displeasure to the Citizens, By rushing in their houses: bearing thence Rings, Iewels, any thing his rage did like. Once did I get him bound, and sent him home, Whil'st to take order for the wrongs I went, That heere and there his furie had committed, Anon I wot not, by what strong escape He broke from those that had the guard of him, And with his mad attendant and himselfe, Each one with irefull passion, with drawne swords Met vs againe, and madly bent on vs Chac'd vs away: till raising of more aide We came againe to binde them: then they fled Into this Abbey, whether we pursu'd them, And heere the Abbesse shuts the gates on vs, And will not suffer vs to fetch him out, Nor send him forth, that we may beare him hence. Therefore most gracious Duke with thy command, Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for helpe

Duke. Long since thy husband seru'd me in my wars And I to thee ingag'd a Princes word, When thou didst make him Master of thy bed, To do him all the grace and good I could. Go some of you, knocke at the Abbey gate, And bid the Lady Abbesse come to me: I will determine this before I stirre.

Enter a Messenger.

Oh Mistris, Mistris, shift and saue your selfe, My Master and his man are both broke loose, Beaten the Maids a-row, and bound the Doctor, Whose beard they haue sindg'd off with brands of fire, And euer as it blaz'd, they threw on him Great pailes of puddled myre to quench the haire; My Mr preaches patience to him, and the while His man with Cizers nickes him like a foole: And sure (vnlesse you send some present helpe) Betweene them they will kill the Coniurer

Adr. Peace foole, thy Master and his man are here, And that is false thou dost report to vs

Mess. Mistris, vpon my life I tel you true, I haue not breath'd almost since I did see it. He cries for you, and vowes if he can take you, To scorch your face, and to disfigure you:

Cry within.

Harke, harke, I heare him Mistris: flie, be gone

Duke. Come stand by me, feare nothing: guard with Halberds

Adr. Ay me, it is my husband: witnesse you, That he is borne about inuisible, Euen now we hous'd him in the Abbey heere. And now he's there, past thought of humane reason.

Enter Antipholus, and E.Dromio of Ephesus.

E.Ant. Iustice most gracious Duke, oh grant me iustice, Euen for the seruice that long since I did thee, When I bestrid thee in the warres, and tooke Deepe scarres to saue thy life; euen for the blood That then I lost for thee, now grant me iustice

Mar.Fat. Vnlesse the feare of death doth make me dote, I see my sonne Antipholus and Dromio

E.Ant. Iustice (sweet Prince) against y Woman there: She whom thou gau'st to me to be my wife; That hath abused and dishonored me, Euen in the strength and height of iniurie: Beyond imagination is the wrong That she this day hath shamelesse throwne on me

Duke. Discouer how, and thou shalt finde me iust

E.Ant. This day (great Duke) she shut the doores vpon me, While she with Harlots feasted in my house

Duke. A greeuous fault: say woman, didst thou so? Adr. No my good Lord. My selfe, he, and my sister, To day did dine together: so befall my soule, As this is false he burthens me withall

Luc. Nere may I looke on day, nor sleepe on night, But she tels to your Highnesse simple truth

Gold. O periur'd woman! They are both forsworne, In this the Madman iustly chargeth them

E.Ant. My Liege, I am aduised what I say, Neither disturbed with the effect of Wine, Nor headie-rash prouoak'd with raging ire, Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad. This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner; That Goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her, Could witnesse it: for he was with me then, Who parted with me to go fetch a Chaine, Promising to bring it to the Porpentine, Where Balthasar and I did dine together. Our dinner done, and he not comming thither, I went to seeke him. In the street I met him, And in his companie that Gentleman. There did this periur'd Goldsmith sweare me downe, That I this day of him receiu'd the Chaine, Which God he knowes, I saw not. For the which, He did arrest me with an Officer. I did obey, and sent my Pesant home For certaine Duckets: he with none return'd. Then fairely I bespoke the Officer To go in person with me to my house. By'th' way, we met my wife, her sister, and a rabble more Of vilde Confederates: Along with them They brought one Pinch, a hungry leane-fac'd Villaine; A meere Anatomie, a Mountebanke, A thred-bare Iugler, and a Fortune-teller, A needy-hollow-ey'd-sharpe-looking-wretch; A liuing dead man. This pernicious slaue, Forsooth tooke on him as a Coniurer: And gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse, And with no-face (as 'twere) out-facing me, Cries out, I was possest. Then altogether They fell vpon me, bound me, bore me thence, And in a darke and dankish vault at home There left me and my man, both bound together, Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder, I gain'd my freedome; and immediately Ran hether to your Grace, whom I beseech To giue me ample satisfaction For these deepe shames, and great indignities

Gold. My Lord, in truth, thus far I witnes with him: That he din'd not at home, but was lock'd out

Duke. But had he such a Chaine of thee, or no? Gold. He had my Lord, and when he ran in heere, These people saw the Chaine about his necke

Mar. Besides, I will be sworne these eares of mine, Heard you confesse you had the Chaine of him, After you first forswore it on the Mart, And thereupon I drew my sword on you: And then you fled into this Abbey heere, From whence I thinke you are come by Miracle

E.Ant. I neuer came within these Abbey wals, Nor euer didst thou draw thy sword on me: I neuer saw the Chaine, so helpe me heauen: And this is false you burthen me withall

Duke. Why what an intricate impeach is this? I thinke you all haue drunke of Circes cup: If heere you hous'd him, heere he would haue bin. If he were mad, he would not pleade so coldly: You say he din'd at home, the Goldsmith heere Denies that saying. Sirra, what say you? E.Dro. Sir he din'de with her there, at the Porpentine

Cur. He did, and from my finger snacht that Ring

E.Anti. Tis true (my Liege) this Ring I had of her

Duke. Saw'st thou him enter at the Abbey heere? Curt. As sure (my Liege) as I do see your Grace

Duke. Why this is straunge: Go call the Abbesse hither. I thinke you are all mated, or starke mad.

Exit one to the Abbesse.

Fa. Most mighty Duke, vouchsafe me speak a word: Haply I see a friend will saue my life, And pay the sum that may deliuer me

Duke. Speake freely Siracusian what thou wilt

Fath. Is not your name sir call'd Antipholus? And is not that your bondman Dromio? E.Dro. Within this houre I was his bondman sir, But he I thanke him gnaw'd in two my cords, Now am I Dromio, and his man, vnbound

Fath. I am sure you both of you remember me

Dro. Our selues we do remember sir by you: For lately we were bound as you are now. You are not Pinches patient, are you sir? Father. Why looke you strange on me? you know me well

E.Ant. I neuer saw you in my life till now

Fa. Oh! griefe hath chang'd me since you saw me last, And carefull houres with times deformed hand, Haue written strange defeatures in my face: But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice? Ant. Neither

Fat. Dromio, nor thou? Dro. No trust me sir, nor I

Fa. I am sure thou dost? E.Dromio. I sir, but I am sure I do not, and whatsoeuer a man denies, you are now bound to beleeue him

Fath. Not know my voice, oh times extremity Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poore tongue In seuen short yeares, that heere my onely sonne Knowes not my feeble key of vntun'd cares? Though now this grained face of mine be hid In sap-consuming Winters drizled snow, And all the Conduits of my blood froze vp: Yet hath my night of life some memorie: My wasting lampes some fading glimmer left; My dull deafe eares a little vse to heare: All these old witnesses, I cannot erre. Tell me, thou art my sonne Antipholus

Ant. I neuer saw my Father in my life

Fa. But seuen yeares since, in Siracusa boy Thou know'st we parted, but perhaps my sonne, Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in miserie

Ant. The Duke, and all that know me in the City, Can witnesse with me that it is not so. I ne're saw Siracusa in my life

Duke. I tell thee Siracusian, twentie yeares Haue I bin Patron to Antipholus, During which time, he ne're saw Siracusa: I see thy age and dangers make thee dote.

Enter the Abbesse with Antipholus Siracusa, and Dromio Sir.

Abbesse. Most mightie Duke, behold a man much wrong'd.

All gather to see them.

Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceiue me

Duke. One of these men is genius to the other: And so of these, which is the naturall man, And which the spirit? Who deciphers them? S.Dromio. I Sir am Dromio, command him away

E.Dro. I Sir am Dromio, pray let me stay

S.Ant. Egeon art thou not? or else his ghost

S.Drom. Oh my olde Master, who hath bound him heere? Abb. Who euer bound him, I will lose his bonds, And gaine a husband by his libertie: Speake olde Egeon, if thou bee'st the man That hadst a wife once call'd Aemilia, That bore thee at a burthen two faire sonnes? Oh if thou bee'st the same Egeon, speake: And speake vnto the same Aemilia

Duke. Why heere begins his Morning storie right: These two Antipholus, these two so like, And these two Dromio's, one in semblance: Besides her vrging of her wracke at sea, These are the parents to these children, Which accidentally are met together

Fa. If I dreame not, thou art Aemilia, If thou art she, tell me, where is that sonne That floated with thee on the fatall rafte

Abb. By men of Epidamium, he, and I, And the twin Dromio, all were taken vp; But by and by, rude Fishermen of Corinth By force tooke Dromio, and my sonne from them, And me they left with those of Epidamium. What then became of them, I cannot tell: I, to this fortune that you see mee in

Duke. Antipholus thou cam'st from Corinth first

S.Ant. No sir, not I, I came from Siracuse

Duke. Stay, stand apart, I know not which is which

E.Ant. I came from Corinth my most gracious Lord E.Dro. And I with him

E.Ant. Brought to this Town by that most famous Warriour, Duke Menaphon your most renowned Vnckle

Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to day? S.Ant. I, gentle Mistris

Adr. And are not you my husband? E.Ant. No, I say nay to that

S.Ant. And so do I, yet did she call me so: And this faire Gentlewoman her sister heere Did call me brother. What I told you then, I hope I shall haue leisure to make good, If this be not a dreame I see and heare

Goldsmith. That is the Chaine sir, which you had of mee

S.Ant. I thinke it be sir, I denie it not

E.Ant. And you sir for this Chaine arrested me

Gold. I thinke I did sir, I deny it not

Adr. I sent you monie sir to be your baile By Dromio, but I thinke he brought it not

E.Dro. No, none by me

S.Ant. This purse of Duckets I receiu'd from you, And Dromio my man did bring them me: I see we still did meete each others man, And I was tane for him, and he for me, And thereupon these errors are arose

E.Ant. These Duckets pawne I for my father heere

Duke. It shall not neede, thy father hath his life

Cur. Sir I must haue that Diamond from you

E.Ant. There take it, and much thanks for my good cheere

Abb. Renowned Duke, vouchsafe to take the paines To go with vs into the Abbey heere, And heare at large discoursed all our fortunes, And all that are assembled in this place: That by this simpathized one daies error Haue suffer'd wrong. Goe, keepe vs companie, And we shall make full satisfaction. Thirtie three yeares haue I but gone in trauaile Of you my sonnes, and till this present houre My heauie burthen are deliuered: The Duke my husband, and my children both, And you the Kalenders of their Natiuity, Go to a Gossips feast, and go with mee, After so long greefe such Natiuitie

Duke. With all my heart, Ile Gossip at this feast.

Exeunt. omnes. Manet the two Dromio's and two Brothers.

S.Dro. Mast[er]. shall I fetch your stuffe from shipbord? E.An. Dromio, what stuffe of mine hast thou imbarkt S.Dro. Your goods that lay at host sir in the Centaur

S.Ant. He speakes to me, I am your master Dromio. Come go with vs, wee'l looke to that anon, Embrace thy brother there, reioyce with him.

Exit

S.Dro. There is a fat friend at your masters house, That kitchin'd me for you to day at dinner: She now shall be my sister, not my wife, E.D. Me thinks you are my glasse, & not my brother: I see by you, I am a sweet-fac'd youth, Will you walke in to see their gossipping? S.Dro. Not I sir, you are my elder

E.Dro. That's a question, how shall we trie it

S.Dro. Wee'l draw Cuts for the Signior, till then, lead thou first

E.Dro. Nay then thus: We came into the world like brother and brother: And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another.

Exeunt.

FINIS. The Comedie of Errors.

Much adoe about Nothing

Actus primus, Scena prima.

Enter Leonato Gouernour of Messina, Innogen his wife, Hero his daughter, and Beatrice his Neece, with a messenger.

Leonato. I learne in this Letter, that Don Peter of Arragon, comes this night to Messina

Mess. He is very neere by this: he was not three Leagues off when I left him

Leon. How many Gentlemen haue you lost in this action? Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name

Leon. A victorie is twice it selfe, when the atchieuer brings home full numbers: I finde heere, that Don Peter hath bestowed much honor on a yong Florentine, called Claudio

Mess. Much deseru'd on his part, and equally remembred by Don Pedro, he hath borne himselfe beyond the promise of his age, doing in the figure of a Lambe, the feats of a Lion, he hath indeede better bettred expectation, then you must expect of me to tell you how

Leo. He hath an Vnckle heere in Messina, wil be very much glad of it

Mess. I haue alreadie deliuered him letters, and there appeares much ioy in him, euen so much, that ioy could not shew it selfe modest enough, without a badg of bitternesse

Leo. Did he breake out into teares? Mess. In great measure

Leo. A kinde ouerflow of kindnesse, there are no faces truer, then those that are so wash'd, how much better is it to weepe at ioy, then to ioy at weeping? Bea. I pray you, is Signior Mountanto return'd from the warres, or no? Mess. I know none of that name, Lady, there was none such in the armie of any sort

Leon. What is he that you aske for Neece? Hero. My cousin meanes Signior Benedick of Padua Mess. O he's return'd, and as pleasant as euer he was

Beat. He set vp his bils here in Messina, & challeng'd Cupid at the Flight: and my Vnckles foole reading the Challenge, subscrib'd for Cupid, and challeng'd him at the Burbolt. I pray you, how many hath hee kil'd and eaten in these warres? But how many hath he kil'd? for indeed, I promis'd to eate all of his killing

Leon. 'Faith Neece, you taxe Signior Benedicke too much, but hee'l be meete with you, I doubt it not

Mess. He hath done good seruice Lady in these wars

Beat. You had musty victuall, and he hath holpe to ease it: he's a very valiant Trencher-man, hee hath an excellent stomacke

Mess. And a good souldier too Lady

Beat. And a good souldier to a Lady. But what is he to a Lord? Mess. A Lord to a Lord, a man to a man, stuft with all honourable vertues

Beat. It is so indeed, he is no lesse then a stuft man: but for the stuffing well, we are all mortall

Leon. You must not (sir) mistake my Neece, there is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick, & her: they neuer meet, but there's a skirmish of wit between them

Bea. Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last conflict, foure of his fiue wits went halting off, and now is the whole man gouern'd with one: so that if hee haue wit enough to keepe himselfe warme, let him beare it for a difference betweene himselfe and his horse: For it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be knowne a reasonable creature. Who is his companion now? He hath euery month a new sworne brother

Mess. Is't possible? Beat. Very easily possible: he weares his faith but as the fashion of his hat, it euer changes with y next block

Mess. I see (Lady) the Gentleman is not in your bookes

Bea. No, and he were, I would burne my study. But I pray you, who is his companion? Is there no young squarer now, that will make a voyage with him to the diuell? Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio

Beat. O Lord, he will hang vpon him like a disease: he is sooner caught then the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God helpe the noble Claudio, if hee haue caught the Benedict, it will cost him a thousand pound ere he be cur'd

Mess. I will hold friends with you Lady

Bea. Do good friend

Leo. You'l ne're run mad Neece

Bea. No, not till a hot Ianuary

Mess. Don Pedro is approach'd.

Enter don Pedro, Claudio, Benedicke, Balthasar, and Iohn the bastard.

Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: the fashion of the world is to auoid cost, and you encounter it

Leon. Neuer came trouble to my house in the likenes of your Grace: for trouble being gone, comfort should remaine: but when you depart from me, sorrow abides, and happinesse takes his leaue

Pedro. You embrace your charge too willingly: I thinke this is your daughter

Leonato. Her mother hath many times told me so

Bened. Were you in doubt that you askt her? Leonato. Signior Benedicke, no, for then were you a childe

Pedro. You haue it full Benedicke, we may ghesse by this, what you are, being a man, truely the Lady fathers her selfe: be happie Lady, for you are like an honorable father

Ben. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not haue his head on her shoulders for al Messina, as like him as she is

Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, signior Benedicke, no body markes you

Ben. What my deere Ladie Disdaine! are you yet liuing? Beat. Is it possible Disdaine should die, while shee hath such meete foode to feede it, as Signior Benedicke? Curtesie it selfe must conuert to Disdaine, if you come in her presence

Bene. Then is curtesie a turne-coate, but it is certaine I am loued of all Ladies, onely you excepted: and I would I could finde in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truely I loue none

Beat. A deere happinesse to women, they would else haue beene troubled with a pernitious Suter, I thanke God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that, I had rather heare my Dog barke at a Crow, than a man sweare he loues me

Bene. God keepe your Ladiship still in that minde, so some Gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate scratcht face

Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, and 'twere such a face as yours were

Bene. Well, you are a rare Parrat teacher

Beat. A bird of my tongue, is better than a beast of your

Ben. I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer, but keepe your way a Gods name, I haue done

Beat. You alwaies end with a Iades tricke, I know you of old

Pedro. This is the summe of all: Leonato, signior Claudio, and signior Benedicke; my deere friend Leonato, hath inuited you all, I tell him we shall stay here, at the least a moneth, and he heartily praies some occasion may detaine vs longer: I dare sweare hee is no hypocrite, but praies from his heart

Leon. If you sweare, my Lord, you shall not be forsworne, let mee bid you welcome, my Lord, being reconciled to the Prince your brother: I owe you all duetie

Iohn. I thanke you, I am not of many words, but I thanke you

Leon. Please it your grace leade on? Pedro. Your hand Leonato, we will goe together.

Exeunt. Manet Benedicke and Claudio.

Clau. Benedicke, didst thou note the daughter of signior Leonato? Bene. I noted her not, but I lookt on her

Claud. Is she not a modest yong Ladie? Bene. Doe you question me as an honest man should doe, for my simple true iudgement? or would you haue me speake after my custome, as being a professed tyrant to their sexe? Clau. No, I pray thee speake in sober iudgement

Bene. Why yfaith me thinks shee's too low for a hie praise, too browne for a faire praise, and too little for a great praise, onely this commendation I can affoord her, that were shee other then she is, she were vnhandsome, and being no other, but as she is, I doe not like her

Clau. Thou think'st I am in sport, I pray thee tell me truely how thou lik'st her

Bene. Would you buie her, that you enquier after her? Clau. Can the world buie such a iewell? Ben. Yea, and a case to put it into, but speake you this with a sad brow? Or doe you play the flowting iacke, to tell vs Cupid is a good Hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare Carpenter: Come, in what key shall a man take you to goe in the song? Clau. In mine eie, she is the sweetest Ladie that euer I lookt on

Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter: there's her cosin, and she were not possest with a furie, exceedes her as much in beautie, as the first of Maie doth the last of December: but I hope you haue no intent to turne husband, haue you? Clau. I would scarce trust my selfe, though I had sworne the contrarie, if Hero would be my wife

Bene. Ist come to this? in faith hath not the world one man but he will weare his cap with suspition? shall I neuer see a batcheller of three score againe? goe to yfaith, and thou wilt needes thrust thy necke into a yoke, weare the print of it, and sigh away sundaies: looke, don Pedro is returned to seeke you.

Enter don Pedro, Iohn the bastard.

Pedr. What secret hath held you here, that you followed not to Leonatoes? Bened. I would your Grace would constraine mee to tell

Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegeance

Ben. You heare, Count Claudio, I can be secret as a dumbe man, I would haue you thinke so (but on my allegiance, marke you this, on my allegiance) hee is in loue, With who? now that is your Graces part: marke how short his answere is, with Hero, Leonatoes short daughter

Clau. If this were so, so were it vttred

Bened. Like the old tale, my Lord, it is not so, nor 'twas not so: but indeede, God forbid it should be so

Clau. If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be otherwise

Pedro. Amen, if you loue her, for the Ladie is verie well worthie

Clau. You speake this to fetch me in, my Lord

Pedr. By my troth I speake my thought

Clau. And in faith, my Lord, I spoke mine

Bened. And by my two faiths and troths, my Lord, I speake mine

Clau. That I loue her, I feele

Pedr. That she is worthie, I know

Bened. That I neither feele how shee should be loued, nor know how shee should be worthie, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me, I will die in it at the stake

Pedr. Thou wast euer an obstinate heretique in the despight of Beautie

Clau. And neuer could maintaine his part, but in the force of his will Ben. That a woman conceiued me, I thanke her: that she brought mee vp, I likewise giue her most humble thankes: but that I will haue a rechate winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an inuisible baldricke, all women shall pardon me: because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any, I will doe my selfe the right to trust none: and the fine is, (for the which I may goe the finer) I will liue a Batchellor

Pedro. I shall see thee ere I die, looke pale with loue

Bene. With anger, with sicknesse, or with hunger, my Lord, not with loue: proue that euer I loose more blood with loue, then I will get againe with drinking, picke out mine eyes with a Ballet-makers penne, and hang me vp at the doore of a brothel-house for the signe of blinde Cupid

Pedro. Well, if euer thou doost fall from this faith, thou wilt proue a notable argument

Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a Cat, & shoot at me, and he that hit's me, let him be clapt on the shoulder, and cal'd Adam

Pedro. Well, as time shall trie: In time the sauage Bull doth beare the yoake

Bene. The sauage bull may, but if euer the sensible Benedicke beare it, plucke off the bulles hornes, and set them in my forehead, and let me be vildely painted, and in such great Letters as they write, heere is good horse to hire: let them signifie vnder my signe, here you may see Benedicke the married man

Clau. If this should euer happen, thou wouldst bee horne mad

Pedro. Nay, if Cupid haue not spent all his Quiuer in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly

Bene. I looke for an earthquake too then

Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the houres, in the meane time, good Signior Benedicke, repaire to Leonatoes, commend me to him, and tell him I will not faile him at supper, for indeede he hath made great preparation

Bene. I haue almost matter enough in me for such an Embassage, and so I commit you

Clau. To the tuition of God. From my house, if I had it

Pedro. The sixt of Iuly. Your louing friend, Benedick

Bene. Nay mocke not, mocke not; the body of your discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and the guardes are but slightly basted on neither, ere you flout old ends any further, examine your conscience, and so I leaue you.

Enter.

Clau. My Liege, your Highnesse now may doe mee good

Pedro. My loue is thine to teach, teach it but how, And thou shalt see how apt it is to learne Any hard Lesson that may do thee good

Clau. Hath Leonato any sonne my Lord? Pedro. No childe but Hero, she's his onely heire. Dost thou affect her Claudio? Clau. O my Lord, When you went onward on this ended action, I look'd vpon her with a souldiers eie, That lik'd, but had a rougher taske in hand, Than to driue liking to the name of loue: But now I am return'd, and that warre-thoughts Haue left their places vacant: in their roomes, Come thronging soft and delicate desires, All prompting mee how faire yong Hero is, Saying I lik'd her ere I went to warres

Pedro. Thou wilt be like a louer presently, And tire the hearer with a booke of words: If thou dost loue faire Hero, cherish it, And I will breake with her: wast not to this end, That thou beganst to twist so fine a story? Clau. How sweetly doe you minister to loue, That know loues griefe by his complexion! But lest my liking might too sodaine seeme, I would haue salu'd it with a longer treatise

Ped. What need y bridge much broder then the flood? The fairest graunt is the necessitie: Looke what will serue, is fit: 'tis once, thou louest, And I will fit thee with the remedie, I know we shall haue reuelling to night, I will assume thy part in some disguise, And tell faire Hero I am Claudio, And in her bosome Ile vnclaspe my heart, And take her hearing prisoner with the force And strong incounter of my amorous tale: Then after, to her father will I breake, And the conclusion is, shee shall be thine, In practise let vs put it presently.

Exeunt.

Enter Leonato and an old man, brother to Leonato.

Leo. How now brother, where is my cosen your son: hath he prouided this musicke? Old. He is very busie about it, but brother, I can tell you newes that you yet dreamt not of

Lo. Are they good? Old. As the euents stamps them, but they haue a good couer: they shew well outward, the Prince and Count Claudio walking in a thick pleached alley in my orchard, were thus ouer-heard by a man of mine: the Prince discouered to Claudio that hee loued my niece your daughter, and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance, and if hee found her accordant, hee meant to take the present time by the top, and instantly breake with you of it

Leo. Hath the fellow any wit that told you this? Old. A good sharpe fellow, I will send for him, and question him your selfe

Leo. No, no; wee will hold it as a dreame, till it appeare it selfe: but I will acquaint my daughter withall, that she may be the better prepared for an answer, if peraduenture this bee true: goe you and tell her of it: coosins, you know what you haue to doe, O I crie you mercie friend, goe you with mee and I will vse your skill, good cosin haue a care this busie time.

Exeunt.

Enter Sir Iohn the Bastard, and Conrade his companion.

Con. What the good yeere my Lord, why are you thus out of measure sad? Ioh. There is no measure in the occasion that breeds, therefore the sadnesse is without limit

Con. You should heare reason

Iohn. And when I haue heard it, what blessing bringeth it? Con. If not a present remedy, yet a patient sufferance

Ioh. I wonder that thou (being as thou saist thou art, borne vnder Saturne) goest about to apply a morall medicine, to a mortifying mischiefe: I cannot hide what I am: I must bee sad when I haue cause, and smile at no mans iests, eat when I haue stomacke, and wait for no mans leisure: sleepe when I am drowsie, and tend on no mans businesse, laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in his humor

Con. Yea, but you must not make the ful show of this, till you may doe it without controllment, you haue of late stood out against your brother, and hee hath tane you newly into his grace, where it is impossible you should take root, but by the faire weather that you make your selfe, it is needful that you frame the season for your owne haruest

Iohn. I had rather be a canker in a hedge, then a rose in his grace, and it better fits my bloud to be disdain'd of all, then to fashion a carriage to rob loue from any: in this (though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man) it must not be denied but I am a plaine dealing villaine, I am trusted with a mussell, and enfranchisde with a clog, therefore I haue decreed, not to sing in my cage: if I had my mouth, I would bite: if I had my liberty, I would do my liking: in the meane time, let me be that I am, and seeke not to alter me

Con. Can you make no vse of your discontent? Iohn. I will make all vse of it, for I vse it onely. Who comes here? what newes Borachio?

Enter Borachio.

Bor. I came yonder from a great supper, the Prince your brother is royally entertained by Leonato, and I can giue you intelligence of an intended marriage

Iohn. Will it serue for any Modell to build mischiefe on? What is hee for a foole that betrothes himselfe to vnquietnesse? Bor. Mary it is your brothers right hand

Iohn. Who, the most exquisite Claudio? Bor. Euen he

Iohn. A proper squier, and who, and who, which way lookes he? Bor. Mary on Hero, the daughter and Heire of Leonato

Iohn. A very forward March-chicke, how came you to this: Bor. Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was smoaking a musty roome, comes me the Prince and Claudio, hand in hand in sad conference: I whipt behind the Arras, and there heard it agreed vpon, that the Prince should wooe Hero for himselfe, and hauing obtain'd her, giue her to Count Claudio

Iohn. Come, come, let vs thither, this may proue food to my displeasure, that young start-vp hath all the glorie of my ouerthrow: if I can crosse him any way, I blesse my selfe euery way, you are both sure, and will assist mee? Conr. To the death my Lord

Iohn. Let vs to the great supper, their cheere is the greater that I am subdued, would the Cooke were of my minde: shall we goe proue whats to be done? Bor. Wee'll wait vpon your Lordship.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus.

Enter Leonato, his brother, his wife, Hero his daughter, and Beatrice his neece, and a kinsman.

Leonato. Was not Count Iohn here at supper? Brother. I saw him not

Beatrice. How tartly that Gentleman lookes, I neuer can see him, but I am heart-burn'd an howre after

Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition

Beatrice. Hee were an excellent man that were made iust in the mid-way betweene him and Benedicke, the one is too like an image and saies nothing, and the other too like my Ladies eldest sonne, euermore tatling

Leon. Then halfe signior Benedicks tongue in Count Iohns mouth, and halfe Count Iohns melancholy in Signior Benedicks face

Beat. With a good legge, and a good foot vnckle, and money enough in his purse, such a man would winne any woman in the world, if he could get her good will

Leon. By my troth Neece, thou wilt neuer get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue

Brother. Infaith shee's too curst

Beat. Too curst is more then curst, I shall lessen Gods sending that way: for it is said, God sends a curst Cow short hornes, but to a Cow too curst he sends none

Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send you no hornes

Beat. Iust, if he send me no husband, for the which blessing, I am at him vpon my knees euery morning and euening: Lord, I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face, I had rather lie in the woollen

Leonato. You may light vpon a husband that hath no beard

Beatrice. What should I doe with him? dresse him in my apparell, and make him my waiting gentlewoman? he that hath a beard, is more then a youth: and he that hath no beard, is lesse then a man: and hee that is more then a youth, is not for mee: and he that is lesse then a man, I am not for him: therefore I will euen take sixepence in earnest of the Berrord, and leade his Apes into hell

Leon. Well then, goe you into hell

Beat. No, but to the gate, and there will the Deuill meete mee like an old Cuckold with hornes on his head, and say, get you to heauen Beatrice, get you to heauen, heere's no place for you maids, so deliuer I vp my Apes, and away to S[aint]. Peter: for the heauens, hee shewes mee where the Batchellers sit, and there liue wee as merry as the day is long

Brother. Well neece, I trust you will be rul'd by your father

Beatrice. Yes faith, it is my cosens dutie to make curtsie, and say, as it please you: but yet for all that cosin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make an other cursie, and say, father, as it please me

Leonato. Well neece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband

Beatrice. Not till God make men of some other mettall then earth, would it not grieue a woman to be ouermastred with a peece of valiant dust: to make account of her life to a clod of waiward marle? no vnckle, ile none: Adams sonnes are my brethren, and truly I hold it a sinne to match in my kinred

Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you, if the Prince doe solicit you in that kinde, you know your answere

Beatrice. The fault will be in the musicke cosin, if you be not woed in good time: if the Prince bee too important, tell him there is measure in euery thing, & so dance out the answere, for heare me Hero, wooing, wedding, & repenting, is as a Scotch jigge, a measure, and a cinquepace: the first suite is hot and hasty like a Scotch jigge (and full as fantasticall) the wedding manerly modest, (as a measure) full of state & aunchentry, and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinquepace faster and faster, till he sinkes into his graue

Leonato. Cosin you apprehend passing shrewdly

Beatrice. I haue a good eye vnckle, I can see a Church by daylight

Leon. The reuellers are entring brother, make good roome. Enter Prince, Pedro, Claudio, and Benedicke, and Balthasar, or dumbe Iohn, Maskers with a drum.

Pedro. Lady, will you walke about with your friend? Hero. So you walke softly, and looke sweetly, and say nothing, I am yours for the walke, and especially when I walke away

Pedro. With me in your company

Hero. I may say so when I please

Pedro. And when please you to say so? Hero. When I like your fauour, for God defend the Lute should be like the case

Pedro. My visor is Philemons roofe, within the house is Loue

Hero. Why then your visor should be thatcht

Pedro. Speake low if you speake Loue

Bene. Well, I would you did like me

Mar. So would not I for your owne sake, for I haue manie ill qualities

Bene. Which is one? Mar. I say my prayers alowd

Ben. I loue you the better, the hearers may cry Amen

Mar. God match me with a good dauncer

Balt. Amen

Mar. And God keepe him out of my sight when the daunce is done: answer Clarke

Balt. No more words, the Clarke is answered

Vrsula. I know you well enough, you are Signior Anthonio

Anth. At a word, I am not

Vrsula. I know you by the wagling of your head

Anth. To tell you true, I counterfet him

Vrsu. You could neuer doe him so ill well, vnlesse you were the very man: here's his dry hand vp & down, you are he, you are he

Anth. At a word I am not

Vrsula. Come, come, doe you thinke I doe not know you by your excellent wit? can vertue hide it selfe? goe to mumme, you are he, graces will appeare, and there's an end

Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so? Bene. No, you shall pardon me

Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are? Bened. Not now

Beat. That I was disdainfull, and that I had my good wit out of the hundred merry tales: well, this was Signior Benedicke that said so

Bene. What's he? Beat. I am sure you know him well enough

Bene. Not I, beleeue me

Beat. Did he neuer make you laugh? Bene. I pray you what is he? Beat. Why he is the Princes ieaster, a very dull foole, onely his gift is, in deuising impossible slanders, none but Libertines delight in him, and the commendation is not in his witte, but in his villanie, for hee both pleaseth men and angers them, and then they laugh at him, and beat him: I am sure he is in the Fleet, I would he had boorded me

Bene. When I know the Gentleman, Ile tell him what you say

Beat. Do, do, hee'l but breake a comparison or two on me, which peraduenture (not markt, or not laugh'd at) strikes him into melancholly, and then there's a Partridge wing saued, for the foole will eate no supper that night. We must follow the Leaders

Ben. In euery good thing

Bea. Nay, if they leade to any ill, I will leaue them at the next turning.

Exeunt.

Musicke for the dance.

Iohn. Sure my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawne her father to breake with him about it: the Ladies follow her, and but one visor remaines

Borachio. And that is Claudio, I know him by his bearing

Iohn. Are not you signior Benedicke? Clau. You know me well, I am hee

Iohn. Signior, you are verie neere my Brother in his loue, he is enamor'd on Hero, I pray you disswade him from her, she is no equall for his birth: you may do the part of an honest man in it

Claudio. How know you he loues her? Iohn. I heard him sweare his affection

Bor. So did I too, and he swore he would marrie her to night

Iohn. Come, let vs to the banquet.

Ex. manet Clau.

Clau. Thus answere I in name of Benedicke, But heare these ill newes with the eares of Claudio: 'Tis certaine so, the Prince woes for himselfe: Friendship is constant in all other things, Saue in the Office and affaires of loue: Therefore all hearts in loue vse their owne tongues. Let euerie eye negotiate for it selfe, And trust no Agent: for beautie is a witch, Against whose charmes, faith melteth into blood: This is an accident of hourely proofe, Which I mistrusted not. Farewell therefore Hero. Enter Benedicke.

Ben. Count Claudio

Clau. Yea, the same

Ben. Come, will you goe with me? Clau. Whither? Ben. Euen to the next Willow, about your own businesse, Count. What fashion will you weare the Garland off? About your necke, like an Vsurers chaine? Or vnder your arme, like a Lieutenants scarfe? You must weare it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero

Clau . I wish him ioy of her

Ben. Why that's spoken like an honest Drouier, so they sel Bullockes: but did you thinke the Prince wold haue serued you thus? Clau. I pray you leaue me

Ben. Ho now you strike like the blindman, 'twas the boy that stole your meate, and you'l beat the post

Clau. If it will not be, Ile leaue you. Enter.

Ben. Alas poore hurt fowle, now will he creepe into sedges: But that my Ladie Beatrice should know me, & not know me: the Princes foole! Hah? It may be I goe vnder that title, because I am merrie: yea but so I am apt to do my selfe wrong: I am not so reputed, it is the base (though bitter) disposition of Beatrice, that putt's the world into her person, and so giues me out: well, Ile be reuenged as I may. Enter the Prince.

Pedro. Now Signior, where's the Count, did you see him? Bene. Troth my Lord, I haue played the part of Lady Fame, I found him heere as melancholy as a Lodge in a Warren, I told him, and I thinke, told him true, that your grace had got the will of this young Lady, and I offered him my company to a willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to binde him a rod, as being worthy to be whipt

Pedro. To be whipt, what's his fault? Bene. The flat transgression of a Schoole-boy, who being ouer-ioyed with finding a birds nest, shewes it his companion, and he steales it

Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust, a transgression? the transgression is in the stealer

Ben. Yet it had not been amisse the rod had beene made, and the garland too, for the garland he might haue worne himselfe, and the rod hee might haue bestowed on you, who (as I take it) haue stolne his birds nest

Pedro. I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner

Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith you say honestly

Pedro. The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrell to you, the Gentleman that daunst with her, told her shee is much wrong'd by you

Bene. O she misusde me past the indurance of a block: an oake but with one greene leafe on it, would haue answered her: my very visor began to assume life, and scold with her: shee told mee, not thinking I had beene my selfe, that I was the Princes Iester, and that I was duller then a great thaw, hudling iest vpon iest, with such impossible conueiance vpon me, that I stood like a man at a marke, with a whole army shooting at me: shee speakes poynyards, and euery word stabbes: if her breath were as terrible as terminations, there were no liuing neere her, she would infect to the north starre: I would not marry her, though she were indowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgrest, she would haue made Hercules haue turnd spit, yea, and haue cleft his club to make the fire too: come, talke not of her, you shall finde her the infernall Ate in good apparell. I would to God some scholler would coniure her, for certainely while she is heere, a man may liue as quiet in hell, as in a sanctuary, and people sinne vpon purpose, because they would goe thither, so indeed all disquiet, horror, and perturbation followes her. Enter Claudio and Beatrice, Leonato, Hero.

Pedro. Looke heere she comes

Bene. Will your Grace command mee any seruice to the worlds end? I will goe on the slightest arrand now to the Antypodes that you can deuise to send me on: I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the furthest inch of Asia: bring you the length of Prester Iohns foot: fetch you a hayre off the great Chams beard: doe you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather then hould three words conference, with this Harpy: you haue no employment for me? Pedro. None, but to desire your good company

Bene. O God sir, heeres a dish I loue not, I cannot indure this Lady tongue. Enter.

Pedr. Come Lady, come, you haue lost the heart of Signior Benedicke

Beatr. Indeed my Lord, hee lent it me a while, and I gaue him vse for it, a double heart for a single one, marry once before he wonne it of mee, with false dice, therefore your Grace may well say I haue lost it

Pedro. You haue put him downe Lady, you haue put him downe

Beat. So I would not he should do me, my Lord, lest I should prooue the mother of fooles: I haue brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seeke

Pedro. Why how now Count, wherfore are you sad? Claud. Not sad my Lord

Pedro. How then? sicke? Claud. Neither, my Lord

Beat. The Count is neither sad, nor sicke, nor merry, nor well: but ciuill Count, ciuill as an Orange, and something of a iealous complexion

Pedro. Ifaith Lady, I thinke your blazon to be true. though Ile be sworne, if hee be so, his conceit is false: heere Claudio, I haue wooed in thy name, and faire Hero is won, I haue broke with her father, and his good will obtained, name the day of marriage, and God giue thee ioy

Leona. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his grace hath made the match, & all grace say, Amen to it

Beatr. Speake Count, tis your Qu

Claud. Silence is the perfectest Herault of ioy, I were but little happy if I could say, how much? Lady, as you are mine, I am yours, I giue away my selfe for you, and doat vpon the exchange

Beat. Speake cosin, or (if you cannot) stop his mouth with a kisse, and let not him speake neither

Pedro. In faith Lady you haue a merry heart

Beatr. Yea my Lord I thanke it, poore foole it keepes on the windy side of Care, my coosin tells him in his eare that he is in my heart

Clau. And so she doth coosin

Beat. Good Lord for alliance: thus goes euery one to the world but I, and I am sun-burn'd, I may sit in a corner and cry, heigh ho for a husband

Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one

Beat. I would rather haue one of your fathers getting: hath your Grace ne're a brother like you? your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them

Prince. Will you haue me? Lady

Beat. No, my Lord, vnlesse I might haue another for working-daies, your Grace is too costly to weare euerie day: but I beseech your Grace pardon mee, I was borne to speake all mirth, and no matter

Prince. Your silence most offends me, and to be merry, best becomes you, for out of question, you were born in a merry howre

Beatr. No sure my Lord, my Mother cried, but then there was a starre daunst, and vnder that was I borne: cosins God giue you ioy

Leonato. Neece, will you looke to those things I told you of? Beat. I cry you mercy Vncle, by your Graces pardon.

Exit Beatrice.

Prince. By my troth a pleasant spirited Lady

Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her my Lord, she is neuer sad, but when she sleepes, and not euer sad then: for I haue heard my daughter say, she hath often dreamt of vnhappinesse, and wakt her selfe with laughing

Pedro. Shee cannot indure to heare tell of a husband

Leonato. O, by no meanes, she mocks all her wooers out of suite

Prince. She were an excellent wife for Benedick

Leonato. O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a weeke married, they would talke themselues madde

Prince. Counte Claudio, when meane you to goe to Church? Clau. To morrow my Lord, Time goes on crutches, till Loue haue all his rites

Leonato. Not till monday, my deare sonne, which is hence a iust seuen night, and a time too briefe too, to haue all things answer minde

Prince. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing, but I warrant thee Claudio, the time shall not goe dully by vs, I will in the interim, vndertake one of Hercules labors, which is, to bring Signior Benedicke and the Lady Beatrice into a mountaine of affection, th' one with th' other, I would faine haue it a match, and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall giue you direction

Leonato. My Lord, I am for you, though it cost mee ten nights watchings

Claud. And I my Lord

Prin. And you to gentle Hero? Hero. I will doe any modest office, my Lord, to helpe my cosin to a good husband

Prin. And Benedick is not the vnhopefullest husband that I know: thus farre can I praise him, hee is of a noble straine, of approued valour, and confirm'd honesty, I will teach you how to humour your cosin, that shee shall fall in loue with Benedicke, and I, with your two helpes, will so practise on Benedicke, that in despight of his quicke wit, and his queasie stomacke, hee shall fall in loue with Beatrice: if wee can doe this, Cupid is no longer an Archer, his glory shall be ours, for wee are the onely louegods, goe in with me, and I will tell you my drift. Enter.

Enter Iohn and Borachio.

Ioh. It is so, the Count Claudio shal marry the daughter of Leonato

Bora. Yea my Lord, but I can crosse it

Iohn. Any barre, any crosse, any impediment, will be medicinable to me, I am sicke in displeasure to him, and whatsoeuer comes athwart his affection, ranges euenly with mine, how canst thou crosse this marriage? Bor. Not honestly my Lord, but so couertly, that no dishonesty shall appeare in me

Iohn. Shew me breefely how

Bor. I thinke I told your Lordship a yeere since, how much I am in the fauour of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to Hero

Iohn. I remember

Bor. I can at any vnseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to looke out at her Ladies chamber window

Iohn. What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage? Bor. The poyson of that lies in you to temper, goe you to the Prince your brother, spare not to tell him, that hee hath wronged his Honor in marrying the renowned Claudio, whose estimation do you mightily hold vp, to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero

Iohn. What proofe shall I make of that? Bor. Proofe enough, to misuse the Prince, to vexe Claudio, to vndoe Hero, and kill Leonato, looke you for any other issue? Iohn. Onely to despight them, I will endeauour any thing

Bor. Goe then, finde me a meete howre, to draw on Pedro and the Count Claudio alone, tell them that you know that Hero loues me, intend a kinde of zeale both to the Prince and Claudio (as in a loue of your brothers honor who hath made this match) and his friends reputation, who is thus like to be cosen'd with the semblance of a maid, that you haue discouer'd thus: they will scarcely beleeue this without triall: offer them instances which shall beare no lesse likelihood, than to see mee at her chamber window, heare me call Margaret, Hero; heare Margaret terme me Claudio, and bring them to see this the very night before the intended wedding, for in the meane time, I will so fashion the matter, that Hero shall be absent, and there shall appeare such seeming truths of Heroes disloyaltie, that iealousie shall be cal'd assurance, and all the preparation ouerthrowne

Iohn. Grow this to what aduerse issue it can, I will put it in practise: be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducates

Bor. Be thou constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame me

Iohn. I will presentlie goe learne their day of marriage. Enter.

Enter Benedicke alone.

Bene. Boy

Boy. Signior

Bene. In my chamber window lies a booke, bring it hither to me in the orchard

Boy. I am heere already sir. Enter.

Bene. I know that, but I would haue thee hence, and heere againe. I doe much wonder, that one man seeing how much another man is a foole, when he dedicates his behauiours to loue, will after hee hath laught at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his owne scorne, by falling in loue, & such a man is Claudio. I haue known when there was no musicke with him but the drum and the fife, and now had hee rather heare the taber and the pipe: I haue knowne when he would haue walkt ten mile afoot, to see a good armor, and now will he lie ten nights awake caruing the fashion of a new dublet: he was wont to speake plaine, & to the purpose (like an honest man & a souldier) and now is he turn'd orthography, his words are a very fantasticall banquet, iust so many strange dishes: may I be so conuerted, & see with these eyes? I cannot tell, I thinke not: I will not bee sworne, but loue may transforme me to an oyster, but Ile take my oath on it, till he haue made an oyster of me, he shall neuer make me such a foole: one woman is faire, yet I am well: another is wise, yet I am well: another vertuous, yet I am well: but till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace: rich shee shall be, that's certaine: wise, or Ile none: vertuous, or Ile neuer cheapen her: faire, or Ile neuer looke on her: milde, or come not neere me: Noble, or not for an Angell: of good discourse: an excellent Musitian, and her haire shal be of what colour it please God, hah! the Prince and Monsieur Loue, I will hide me in the Arbor. Enter Prince, Leonato, Claudio, and Iacke Wilson.

Prin. Come, shall we heare this musicke? Claud. Yea my good Lord: how still the euening is. As husht on purpose to grace harmonie

Prin. See you where Benedicke hath hid himselfe? Clau. O very well my Lord: the musicke ended, Wee'll fit the kid-foxe with a penny worth

Prince. Come Balthasar, wee'll heare that song again

Balth. O good my Lord, taxe not so bad a voyce, To slander musicke any more then once

Prin. It is the witnesse still of excellency, To slander Musicke any more then once

Prince. It is the witnesse still of excellencie, To put a strange face on his owne perfection, I pray thee sing, and let me woe no more

Balth. Because you talke of wooing, I will sing, Since many a wooer doth commence his suit, To her he thinkes not worthy, yet he wooes, Yet will he sweare he loues

Prince. Nay pray thee come, Or if thou wilt hold longer argument, Doe it in notes

Balth. Note this before my notes, Theres not a note of mine that's worth the noting

Prince. Why these are very crotchets that he speaks, Note notes forsooth, and nothing

Bene. Now diuine aire, now is his soule rauisht, is it not strange that sheepes guts should hale soules out of mens bodies? well, a horne for my money when all's done.

The Song.

Sigh no more Ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceiuers euer, One foote in Sea, and one on shore, To one thing constant neuer, Then sigh not so, but let them goe, And be you blithe and bonnie, Conuerting all your sounds of woe, Into hey nony nony. Sing no more ditties, sing no moe, Of dumps so dull and heauy, The fraud of men were euer so, Since summer first was leauy, Then sigh not so, &c

Prince. By my troth a good song

Balth. And an ill singer, my Lord

Prince. Ha, no, no faith, thou singst well enough for a shift

Ben. And he had been a dog that should haue howld thus, they would haue hang'd him, and I pray God his bad voyce bode no mischiefe, I had as liefe haue heard the night-rauen, come what plague could haue come after it

Prince. Yea marry, dost thou heare Balthasar? I pray thee get vs some excellent musick: for to morrow night we would haue it at the Lady Heroes chamber window

Balth. The best I can, my Lord.

Exit Balthasar.

Prince. Do so, farewell. Come hither Leonato, what was it you told me of to day, that your Niece Beatrice was in loue with signior Benedicke? Cla. O I, stalke on, stalke on, the foule sits. I did neuer thinke that Lady would haue loued any man

Leon. No, nor I neither, but most wonderful, that she should so dote on Signior Benedicke, whom shee hath in all outward behauiours seemed euer to abhorre

Bene. Is't possible? sits the winde in that corner? Leo. By my troth my Lord, I cannot tell what to thinke of it, but that she loues him with an inraged affection, it is past the infinite of thought

Prince. May be she doth but counterfeit

Claud. Faith like enough

Leon. O God! counterfeit? there was neuer counterfeit of passion, came so neere the life of passion as she discouers it

Prince. Why what effects of passion shewes she? Claud. Baite the hooke well, this fish will bite

Leon. What effects my Lord? shee will sit you, you heard my daughter tell you how

Clau. She did indeed

Prince. How, how I pray you? you amaze me, I would haue thought her spirit had beene inuincible against all assaults of affection

Leo. I would haue sworne it had, my Lord, especially against Benedicke

Bene. I should thinke this a gull, but that the whitebearded fellow speakes it: knauery cannot sure hide himselfe in such reuerence

Claud. He hath tane th' infection, hold it vp

Prince. Hath shee made her affection known to Benedicke: Leonato. No, and sweares she neuer will, that's her torment

Claud. 'Tis true indeed, so your daughter saies: shall I, saies she, that haue so oft encountred him with scorne, write to him that I loue him? Leo. This saies shee now when shee is beginning to write to him, for shee'll be vp twenty times a night, and there will she sit in her smocke, till she haue writ a sheet of paper: my daughter tells vs all

Clau. Now you talke of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty iest your daughter told vs of

Leon. O when she had writ it, & was reading it ouer, she found Benedicke and Beatrice betweene the sheete

Clau. That

Leon. O she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence, raild at her self, that she should be so immodest to write, to one that shee knew would flout her: I measure him, saies she, by my owne spirit, for I should flout him if hee writ to mee, yea though I loue him, I should

Clau. Then downe vpon her knees she falls, weepes, sobs, beates her heart, teares her hayre, praies, curses, O sweet Benedicke, God giue me patience

Leon. She doth indeed, my daughter saies so, and the extasie hath so much ouerborne her, that my daughter is somtime afeard she will doe a desperate out-rage to her selfe, it is very true

Prince. It were good that Benedicke knew of it by some other, if she will not discouer it

Clau. To what end? he would but make a sport of it, and torment the poore Lady worse

Prin. And he should, it were an almes to hang him, shee's an excellent sweet Lady, and (out of all suspition,) she is vertuous

Claudio. And she is exceeding wise

Prince. In euery thing, but in louing Benedicke

Leon. O my Lord, wisedome and bloud combating in so tender a body, we haue ten proofes to one, that bloud hath the victory, I am sorry for her, as I haue iust cause, being her Vncle, and her Guardian

Prince. I would shee had bestowed this dotage on mee, I would haue daft all other respects, and made her halfe my selfe: I pray you tell Benedicke of it, and heare what he will say

Leon. Were it good thinke you? Clau. Hero thinkes surely she wil die, for she saies she will die, if hee loue her not, and shee will die ere shee make her loue knowne, and she will die if hee wooe her, rather than shee will bate one breath of her accustomed crossenesse

Prince. She doth well, if she should make tender of her loue, 'tis very possible hee'l scorne it, for the man (as you know all) hath a contemptible spirit

Clau. He is a very proper man

Prin. He hath indeed a good outward happines

Clau. 'Fore God, and in my minde very wise

Prin. He doth indeed shew some sparkes that are like wit

Leon. And I take him to be valiant

Prin. As Hector, I assure you, and in the managing of quarrels you may see hee is wise, for either hee auoydes them with great discretion, or vndertakes them with a Christian-like feare

Leon. If hee doe feare God, a must necessarilie keepe peace, if hee breake the peace, hee ought to enter into a quarrell with feare and trembling

Prin. And so will he doe, for the man doth fear God, howsoeuer it seemes not in him, by some large ieasts hee will make: well, I am sorry for your niece, shall we goe see Benedicke, and tell him of her loue

Claud. Neuer tell him, my Lord, let her weare it out with good counsell

Leon. Nay that's impossible, she may weare her heart out first

Prin. Well, we will heare further of it by your daughter, let it coole the while, I loue Benedicke well, and I could wish he would modestly examine himselfe, to see how much he is vnworthy to haue so good a Lady

Leon. My Lord, will you walke? dinner is ready

Clau. If he do not doat on her vpon this, I wil neuer trust my expectation

Prin. Let there be the same Net spread for her, and that must your daughter and her gentlewoman carry: the sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of anothers dotage, and no such matter, that's the Scene that I would see, which will be meerely a dumbe shew: let vs send her to call him into dinner.

Exeunt.

Bene. This can be no tricke, the conference was sadly borne, they haue the truth of this from Hero, they seeme to pittie the Lady: it seemes her affections haue the full bent: loue me? why it must be requited: I heare how I am censur'd, they say I will beare my selfe proudly, if I perceiue the loue come from her: they say too, that she will rather die than giue any signe of affection: I did neuer thinke to marry, I must not seeme proud, happy are they that heare their detractions, and can put them to mending: they say the Lady is faire, 'tis a truth, I can beare them witnesse: and vertuous, tis so, I cannot reprooue it, and wise, but for louing me, by my troth it is no addition to her witte, nor no great argument of her folly; for I wil be horribly in loue with her, I may chance haue some odde quirkes and remnants of witte broken on mee, because I haue rail'd so long against marriage: but doth not the appetite alter? a man loues the meat in his youth, that he cannot indure in his age. Shall quips and sentences, and these paper bullets of the braine awe a man from the careere of his humour? No, the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a batcheler, I did not think I should liue till I were maried, here comes Beatrice: by this day, shee's a faire Lady, I doe spie some markes of loue in her. Enter Beatrice.

Beat. Against my wil I am sent to bid you come in to dinner

Bene. Faire Beatrice, I thanke you for your paines

Beat. I tooke no more paines for those thankes, then you take paines to thanke me, if it had been painefull, I would not haue come

Bene. You take pleasure then in the message

Beat. Yea iust so much as you may take vpon a kniues point, and choake a daw withall: you haue no stomacke signior, fare you well. Enter.

Bene. Ha, against my will I am sent to bid you come into dinner: there's a double meaning in that: I tooke no more paines for those thankes then you took paines to thanke me, that's as much as to say, any paines that I take for you is as easie as thankes: if I do not take pitty of her I am a villaine, if I doe not loue her I am a Iew, I will goe get her picture. Enter.

Actus Tertius.

Enter Hero and two Gentlemen, Margaret, and Vrsula.

Hero. Good Margaret runne thee to the parlour, There shalt thou finde my Cosin Beatrice, Proposing with the Prince and Claudio, Whisper her eare, and tell her I and Vrsula, Walke in the Orchard, and our whole discourse Is all of her, say that thou ouer-heardst vs, And bid her steale into the pleached bower, Where hony-suckles ripened by the sunne, Forbid the sunne to enter: like fauourites, Made proud by Princes, that aduance their pride, Against that power that bred it, there will she hide her, To listen our purpose, this is thy office, Beare thee well in it, and leaue vs alone

Marg. Ile make her come I warrant you presently

Hero. Now Vrsula, when Beatrice doth come, As we do trace this alley vp and downe, Our talke must onely be of Benedicke, When I doe name him, let it be thy part, To praise him more then euer man did merit, My talke to thee must be how Benedicke Is sicke in loue with Beatrice; of this matter, Is little Cupids crafty arrow made, That onely wounds by heare-say: now begin, Enter Beatrice.

For looke where Beatrice like a Lapwing runs Close by the ground, to heare our conference

Vrs. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden ores the siluer streame, And greedily deuoure the treacherous baite: So angle we for Beatrice, who euen now, Is couched in the wood-bine couerture, Feare you not my part of the Dialogue

Her. Then go we neare her that her eare loose nothing, Of the false sweete baite that we lay for it: No truely Vrsula, she is too disdainfull, I know her spirits are as coy and wilde, As Haggerds of the rocke

Vrsula. But are you sure, That Benedicke loues Beatrice so intirely? Her. So saies the Prince, and my new trothed Lord

Vrs. And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam? Her. They did intreate me to acquaint her of it, But I perswaded them, if they lou'd Benedicke, To wish him wrastle with affection, And neuer to let Beatrice know of it

Vrsula. Why did you so, doth not the Gentleman Deserue as full as fortunate a bed, As euer Beatrice shall couch vpon? Hero. O God of loue! I know he doth deserue, As much as may be yeelded to a man: But Nature neuer fram'd a womans heart, Of prowder stuffe then that of Beatrice: Disdaine and Scorne ride sparkling in her eyes, Mis-prizing what they looke on, and her wit Values it selfe so highly, that to her All matter else seemes weake: she cannot loue, Nor take no shape nor proiect of affection, Shee is so selfe indeared

Vrsula. Sure I thinke so, And therefore certainely it were not good She knew his loue, lest she make sport at it

Hero. Why you speake truth, I neuer yet saw man, How wise, how noble, yong, how rarely featur'd. But she would spell him backward: if faire fac'd, She would sweare the gentleman should be her sister: If blacke, why Nature drawing of an anticke, Made a foule blot: if tall, a launce ill headed: If low, an agot very vildlie cut: If speaking, why a vane blowne with all windes: If silent, why a blocke moued with none. So turnes she euery man the wrong side out, And neuer giues to Truth and Vertue, that Which simplenesse and merit purchaseth

Vrsu. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable

Hero. No, not to be so odde, and from all fashions, As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable, But who dare tell her so? if I should speake, She would mocke me into ayre, O she would laugh me Out of my selfe, presse me to death with wit, Therefore let Benedicke like couered fire, Consume away in sighes, waste inwardly: It were a better death, to die with mockes, Which is as bad as die with tickling

Vrsu. Yet tell her of it, heare what shee will say

Hero. No, rather I will goe to Benedicke, And counsaile him to fight against his passion, And truly Ile deuise some honest slanders, To staine my cosin with, one doth not know, How much an ill word may impoison liking

Vrsu. O doe not doe your cosin such a wrong, She cannot be so much without true iudgement, Hauing so swift and excellent a wit As she is prisde to haue, as to refuse So rare a Gentleman as signior Benedicke

Hero. He is the onely man of Italy, Alwaies excepted, my deare Claudio

Vrsu. I pray you be not angry with me, Madame, Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedicke, For shape, for bearing argument and valour, Goes formost in report through Italy

Hero. Indeed he hath an excellent good name

Vrsu. His excellence did earne it ere he had it: When are you married Madame? Hero. Why euerie day to morrow, come goe in, Ile shew thee some attires, and haue thy counsell, Which is the best to furnish me to morrow

Vrsu. Shee's tane I warrant you, We haue caught her Madame? Hero. If it proue so, then louing goes by haps, Some Cupid kills with arrowes, some with traps. Enter.

Beat. What fire is in mine eares? can this be true? Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorne so much? Contempt, farewell, and maiden pride, adew, No glory liues behinde the backe of such. And Benedicke, loue on, I will requite thee, Taming my wilde heart to thy louing hand: If thou dost loue, my kindnesse shall incite thee To binde our loues vp in a holy band. For others say thou dost deserue, and I Beleeue it better then reportingly. Enter.

Enter Prince, Claudio, Benedicke, and Leonato.

Prince. I doe but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then go I toward Arragon

Clau. Ile bring you thither my Lord, if you'l vouchsafe me

Prin. Nay, that would be as great a soyle in the new glosse of your marriage, as to shew a childe his new coat and forbid him to weare it, I will onely bee bold with Benedicke for his companie, for from the crowne of his head, to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth, he hath twice or thrice cut Cupids bow-string, and the little hang-man dare not shoot at him, he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinkes, his tongue speakes

Bene. Gallants, I am not as I haue bin

Leo. So say I, methinkes you are sadder

Claud. I hope he be in loue

Prin. Hang him truant, there's no true drop of bloud in him to be truly toucht with loue, if he be sad, he wants money

Bene. I haue the tooth-ach

Prin. Draw it

Bene. Hang it

Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards

Prin. What? sigh for the tooth-ach

Leon. Where is but a humour or a worme

Bene. Well, euery one cannot master a griefe, but hee that has it

Clau. Yet say I, he is in loue

Prin. There is no appearance of fancie in him, vnlesse it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises, as to bee a Dutchman to day, a Frenchman to morrow: vnlesse hee haue a fancy to this foolery, as it appeares hee hath, hee is no foole for fancy, as you would haue it to appeare he is

Clau. If he be not in loue with some woman, there is no beleeuing old signes, a brushes his hat a mornings, What should that bode? Prin. Hath any man seene him at the Barbers? Clau. No, but the Barbers man hath beene seen with him, and the olde ornament of his cheeke hath alreadie stuft tennis balls

Leon. Indeed he lookes yonger than hee did, by the losse of a beard

Prin. Nay a rubs himselfe with Ciuit, can you smell him out by that? Clau. That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in loue

Prin. The greatest note of it is his melancholy

Clau. And when was he wont to wash his face? Prin. Yea, or to paint himselfe? for the which I heare what they say of him

Clau. Nay, but his iesting spirit, which is now crept into a lute-string, and now gouern'd by stops

Prin. Indeed that tels a heauy tale for him: conclude, he is in loue

Clau. Nay, but I know who loues him

Prince. That would I know too, I warrant one that knowes him not

Cla. Yes, and his ill conditions, and in despight of all, dies for him

Prin. Shee shall be buried with her face vpwards

Bene. Yet is this no charme for the tooth-ake, old signior, walke aside with mee, I haue studied eight or nine wise words to speake to you, which these hobby-horses must not heare

Prin. For my life to breake with him about Beatrice

Clau. 'Tis euen so, Hero and Margaret haue by this played their parts with Beatrice, and then the two Beares will not bite one another when they meete. Enter Iohn the Bastard.

Bast. My Lord and brother, God saue you

Prin. Good den brother

Bast. If your leisure seru'd, I would speake with you

Prince. In priuate? Bast. If it please you, yet Count Claudio may heare, for what I would speake of, concernes him

Prin. What's the matter? Basta. Meanes your Lordship to be married to morrow? Prin. You know he does

Bast. I know not that when he knowes what I know

Clau. If there be any impediment, I pray you discouer it

Bast. You may thinke I loue you not, let that appeare hereafter, and ayme better at me by that I now will manifest, for my brother (I thinke, he holds you well, and in dearenesse of heart) hath holpe to effect your ensuing marriage: surely sute ill spent, and labour ill bestowed

Prin. Why, what's the matter? Bastard. I came hither to tell you, and circumstances shortned, (for she hath beene too long a talking of) the Lady is disloyall

Clau. Who Hero? Bast. Euen shee, Leonatoes Hero, your Hero, euery mans Hero

Clau. Disloyall? Bast. The word is too good to paint out her wickednesse, I could say she were worse, thinke you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it: wonder not till further warrant: goe but with mee to night, you shal see her chamber window entred, euen the night before her wedding day, if you loue her, then to morrow wed her: But it would better fit your honour to change your minde

Claud. May this be so? Princ. I will not thinke it

Bast. If you dare not trust that you see, confesse not that you know: if you will follow mee, I will shew you enough, and when you haue seene more, & heard more, proceed accordingly

Clau. If I see any thing to night, why I should not marry her to morrow in the congregation, where I shold wedde, there will I shame her

Prin. And as I wooed for thee to obtaine her, I will ioyne with thee to disgrace her

Bast. I will disparage her no farther, till you are my witnesses, beare it coldly but till night, and let the issue shew it selfe

Prin. O day vntowardly turned! Claud. O mischiefe strangelie thwarting! Bastard. O plague right well preuented! so will you say, when you haue seene the sequele. Enter.

Enter Dogbery and his compartner with the watch.

Dog. Are you good men and true? Verg. Yea, or else it were pitty but they should suffer saluation body and soule

Dogb. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if they should haue any allegiance in them, being chosen for the Princes watch

Verges. Well, giue them their charge, neighbour Dogbery

Dog. First, who thinke you the most desartlesse man to be Constable

Watch.1. Hugh Ote-cake sir, or George Sea-coale, for they can write and reade

Dogb. Come hither neighbour Sea-coale, God hath blest you with a good name: to be a wel-fauoured man, is the gift of Fortune, but to write and reade, comes by Nature

Watch 2. Both which Master Constable Dogb. You haue: I knew it would be your answere: well, for your fauour sir, why giue God thankes, & make no boast of it, and for your writing and reading, let that appeare when there is no need of such vanity, you are thought heere to be the most senslesse and fit man for the Constable of the watch: therefore beare you the lanthorne: this is your charge: You shall comprehend all vagrom men, you are to bid any man stand in the Princes name

Watch 2. How if a will not stand? Dogb. Why then take no note of him, but let him go, and presently call the rest of the Watch together, and thanke God you are ridde of a knaue

Verges. If he will not stand when he is bidden, hee is none of the Princes subiects

Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none but the Princes subiects: you shall also make no noise in the streetes: for, for the Watch to babble and talke, is most tollerable, and not to be indured

Watch. We will rather sleepe than talke, wee know what belongs to a Watch

Dog. Why you speake like an ancient and most quiet watchman, for I cannot see how sleeping should offend: only haue a care that your bills be not stolne: well, you are to call at all the Alehouses, and bid them that are drunke get them to bed

Watch. How if they will not? Dogb. Why then let them alone till they are sober, if they make you not then the better answere, you may say, they are not the men you tooke them for

Watch. Well sir, Dogb. If you meet a theefe, you may suspect him, by vertue of your office, to be no true man: and for such kinde of men, the lesse you meddle or make with them, why the more is for your honesty

Watch. If wee know him to be a thiefe, shall wee not lay hands on him

Dogb. Truly by your office you may, but I think they that touch pitch will be defil'd: the most peaceable way for you, if you doe take a theefe, is, to let him shew himselfe what he is, and steale out of your company

Ver. You haue bin alwaies cal'd a merciful ma[n] partner

Dog. Truely I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath anie honestie in him

Verges. If you heare a child crie in the night you must call to the nurse, and bid her still it

Watch. How if the nurse be asleepe and will not heare vs? Dog. Why then depart in peace, and let the childe wake her with crying, for the ewe that will not heare her Lambe when it baes, will neuer answere a calfe when he bleates

Verges. 'Tis verie true

Dog. This is the end of the charge: you constable are to present the Princes owne person, if you meete the Prince in the night, you may staie him

Verges. Nay birladie that I thinke a cannot

Dog. Fiue shillings to one on't with anie man that knowes the Statutes, he may staie him, marrie not without the prince be willing, for indeed the watch ought to offend no man, and it is an offence to stay a man against his will

Verges. Birladie I thinke it be so

Dog. Ha, ah ha, well masters good night, and there be anie matter of weight chances, call vp me, keepe your fellowes counsailes, and your owne, and good night, come neighbour

Watch. Well masters, we heare our charge, let vs go sit here vpon the Church bench till two, and then all to bed

Dog. One word more, honest neighbors. I pray you watch about signior Leonatoes doore, for the wedding being there to morrow, there is a great coyle to night, adiew, be vigitant I beseech you.

Exeunt.

Enter Borachio and Conrade.

Bor. What, Conrade? Watch. Peace, stir not

Bor. Conrade I say

Con. Here man, I am at thy elbow

Bor. Mas and my elbow itcht, I thought there would a scabbe follow

Con. I will owe thee an answere for that, and now forward with thy tale

Bor. Stand thee close then vnder this penthouse, for it drissels raine, and I will, like a true drunkard, vtter all to thee

Watch. Some treason masters, yet stand close

Bor. Therefore know, I haue earned of Don Iohn a thousand Ducates

Con. Is it possible that anie villanie should be so deare? Bor. Thou should'st rather aske if it were possible anie villanie should be so rich? for when rich villains haue neede of poore ones, poore ones may make what price they will

Con. I wonder at it

Bor. That shewes thou art vnconfirm'd, thou knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloake, is nothing to a man

Con. Yes, it is apparell

Bor. I meane the fashion

Con. Yes the fashion is the fashion

Bor. Tush, I may as well say the foole's the foole, but seest thou not what a deformed theefe this fashion is? Watch. I know that deformed, a has bin a vile theefe, this vii. yeares, a goes vp and downe like a gentle man: I remember his name

Bor. Did'st thou not heare some bodie? Con. No, 'twas the vaine on the house

Bor. Seest thou not (I say) what a deformed thiefe this fashion is, how giddily a turnes about all the Hotblouds, betweene, foureteene & fiue & thirtie, sometimes fashioning them like Pharaoes souldiours in the rechie painting, sometime like god Bels priests in the old Church window, sometime like the shauen Hercules in the smircht worm-eaten tapestrie, where his cod-peece seemes as massie as his club

Con. All this I see, and see that the fashion weares out more apparrell then the man; but art not thou thy selfe giddie with the fashion too that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion? Bor. Not so neither, but know that I haue to night wooed Margaret the Lady Heroes gentle-woman, by the name of Hero, she leanes me out at her mistris chamberwindow, bids me a thousand times good night: I tell this tale vildly. I should first tell thee how the Prince Claudio and my Master planted, and placed, and possessed by my Master Don Iohn, saw a far off in the Orchard this amiable incounter

Con. And thought thy Margaret was Hero? Bor. Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio, but the diuell my Master knew she was Margaret and partly by his oathes, which first possest them, partly by the darke night which did deceiue them, but chiefely, by my villanie, which did confirme any slander that Don Iohn had made, away went Claudio enraged, swore hee would meete her as he was apointed next morning at the Temple, and there, before the whole congregation shame her with what he saw o're night, and send her home againe without a husband

Watch.1. We charge you in the Princes name stand

Watch.2. Call vp the right master Constable, we haue here recouered the most dangerous peece of lechery, that euer was knowne in the Common-wealth

Watch.1. And one Deformed is one of them, I know him, a weares a locke

Conr. Masters, masters

Watch.2. Youle be made bring deformed forth I warrant you, Conr. Masters, neuer speake, we charge you, let vs obey you to goe with vs

Bor. We are like to proue a goodly commoditie, being taken vp of these mens bils

Conr. A commoditie in question I warrant you, come weele obey you.

Exeunt.

Enter Hero, and Margaret, and Vrsula.

Hero. Good Vrsula wake my cosin Beatrice, and desire her to rise

Vrsu. I will Lady

Her. And bid her come hither

Vrs. Well

Mar. Troth I thinke your other rebato were better

Hero. No pray thee good Meg, Ile weare this

Marg. By my troth's not so good, and I warrant your cosin will say so

Hero. My cosin's a foole, and thou art another, ile weare none but this

Mar. I like the new tire within excellently, if the haire were a thought browner: and your gown's a most rare fashion yfaith, I saw the Dutchesse of Millaines gowne that they praise so

Hero. O that exceedes they say

Mar. By my troth's but a night-gowne in respect of yours, cloth a gold and cuts, and lac'd with siluer, set with pearles, downe sleeues, side sleeues, and skirts, round vnderborn with a blewish tinsel, but for a fine queint gracefull and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't

Hero. God giue mee ioy to weare it, for my heart is exceeding heauy

Marga. 'Twill be heauier soone, by the waight of a man

Hero. Fie vpon thee, art not asham'd? Marg. Of what Lady? of speaking honourably? is not marriage honourable in a beggar? is not your Lord honourable without marriage? I thinke you would haue me say, sauing your reuerence a husband: and bad thinking doe not wrest true speaking, Ile offend no body, is there any harme in the heauier for a husband? none I thinke, and it be the right husband, and the right wife, otherwise 'tis light and not heauy, aske my Lady Beatrice else, here she comes. Enter Beatrice.

Hero. Good morrow Coze

Beat. Good morrow sweet Hero

Hero. Why how now? do you speake in the sick tune? Beat. I am out of all other tune, me thinkes

Mar. Claps into Light a loue, (that goes without a burden,) do you sing it and Ile dance it

Beat. Ye Light aloue with your heeles, then if your husband haue stables enough, you'll looke he shall lacke no barnes

Mar. O illegitimate construction! I scorne that with my heeles

Beat. 'Tis almost fiue a clocke cosin, 'tis time you were ready, by my troth I am exceeding ill, hey ho

Mar. For a hauke, a horse, or a husband? Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H

Mar. Well, and you be not turn'd Turke, there's no more sayling by the starre

Beat. What meanes the foole trow? Mar. Nothing I, but God send euery one their harts desire

Hero. These gloues the Count sent mee, they are an excellent perfume

Beat. I am stuft cosin, I cannot smell

Mar. A maid and stuft! there's goodly catching of colde

Beat. O God helpe me, God help me, how long haue you profest apprehension? Mar. Euer since you left it, doth not my wit become me rarely? Beat. It is not seene enough, you should weare it in your cap, by my troth I am sicke

Mar. Get you some of this distill'd carduus benedictus and lay it to your heart, it is the onely thing for a qualm

Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thissell

Beat. Benedictus, why benedictus? you haue some morall in this benedictus

Mar. Morall? no by my troth, I haue no morall meaning, I meant plaine holy thissell, you may thinke perchance that I thinke you are in loue, nay birlady I am not such a foole to thinke what I list, nor I list not to thinke what I can, nor indeed, I cannot thinke, if I would thinke my hart out of thinking, that you are in loue, or that you will be in loue, or that you can be in loue: yet Benedicke was such another, and now is he become a man, he swore hee would neuer marry, and yet now in despight of his heart he eates his meat without grudging, and how you may be conuerted I know not, but me thinkes you looke with your eies as other women doe

Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keepes

Mar. Not a false gallop. Enter Vrsula.

Vrsula. Madam, withdraw, the Prince, the Count, signior Benedicke, Don Iohn, and all the gallants of the towne are come to fetch you to Church

Hero. Helpe me to dresse mee good coze, good Meg, good Vrsula. Enter Leonato, and the Constable, and the Headborough.

Leonato. What would you with mee, honest neighbour? Const.Dog. Mary sir I would haue some confidence with you, that decernes you nearely

Leon. Briefe I pray you, for you see it is a busie time with me

Const.Dog. Mary this it is sir

Headb. Yes in truth it is sir

Leon. What is it my good friends? Con.Do. Goodman Verges sir speakes a little of the matter, an old man sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as God helpe I would desire they were, but infaith honest as the skin betweene his browes

Head. Yes I thank God, I am as honest as any man liuing, that is an old man, and no honester then I

Con.Dog. Comparisons are odorous, palabras, neighbour Verges

Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious

Con.Dog. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poore Dukes officers, but truely for mine owne part, if I were as tedious as a King I could finde in my heart to bestow it all of your worship

Leon. All thy tediousnesse on me, ah? Const.Dog. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more than 'tis, for I heare as good exclamation on your Worship as of any man in the Citie, and though I bee but a poore man, I am glad to heare it

Head. And so am I

Leon. I would faine know what you haue to say

Head. Marry sir our watch to night, excepting your worships presence, haue tane a couple of as arrant knaues as any in Messina

Con.Dog. A good old man sir, hee will be talking as they say, when the age is in, the wit is out, God helpe vs, it is a world to see: well said yfaith neighbour Verges, well, God's a good man, and two men ride of a horse, one must ride behinde, an honest soule yfaith sir, by my troth he is, as euer broke bread, but God is to bee worshipt, all men are not alike, alas good neighbour

Leon. Indeed neighbour he comes too short of you

Con.Do. Gifts that God giues

Leon. I must leaue you

Con.Dog. One word sir, our watch sir haue indeede comprehended two aspitious persons, & we would haue them this morning examined before your worship

Leon. Take their examination your selfe, and bring it me, I am now in great haste, as may appeare vnto you

Const. It shall be suffigance

Leon. Drinke some wine ere you goe: fare you well. Enter.

Messenger. My Lord, they stay for you to giue your daughter to her husband

Leon. Ile wait vpon them, I am ready

Dogb. Goe good partner, goe get you to Francis Seacoale, bid him bring his pen and inkehorne to the Gaole: we are now to examine those men

Verges. And we must doe it wisely

Dogb. Wee will spare for no witte I warrant you: heere's that shall driue some to a non-come, only get the learned writer to set downe our excommunication, and meet me at the Iaile.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus.

Enter Prince, Bastard, Leonato, Frier, Claudio, Benedicke, Hero, and Beatrice.

Leonato. Come Frier Francis, be briefe, onely to the plaine forme of marriage, and you shal recount their particular duties afterwards

Fran. You come hither, my Lord, to marry this Lady

Clau. No

Leo. To be married to her: Frier, you come to marrie her

Frier. Lady, you come hither to be married to this Count

Hero. I doe

Frier. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conioyned, I charge you on your soules to vtter it

Claud. Know you anie, Hero? Hero. None my Lord

Frier. Know you anie, Count? Leon. I dare make his answer, None

Clau. O what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do! Bene. How now! interiections? why then, some be of laughing, as ha, ha, he

Clau. Stand thee by Frier, father, by your leaue, Will you with free and vnconstrained soule Giue me this maid your daughter? Leon. As freely sonne as God did giue her me

Cla. And what haue I to giue you back, whose worth May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? Prin. Nothing, vnlesse you render her againe

Clau. Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulnes: There Leonato, take her backe againe, Giue not this rotten Orenge to your friend, Shee's but the signe and semblance of her honour: Behold how like a maid she blushes heere! O what authoritie and shew of truth Can cunning sinne couer it selfe withall! Comes not that bloud, as modest euidence, To witnesse simple Vertue? would you not sweare All you that see her, that she were a maide, By these exterior shewes? But she is none: She knowes the heat of a luxurious bed: Her blush is guiltinesse, not modestie

Leonato. What doe you meane, my Lord? Clau. Not to be married, Not to knit my soule to an approued wanton

Leon. Deere my Lord, if you in your owne proofe, Haue vanquisht the resistance of her youth, And made defeat of her virginitie

Clau. I know what you would say: if I haue knowne (her, You will say, she did imbrace me as a husband, And so extenuate the forehand sinne: No Leonato, I neuer tempted her with word too large, But as a brother to his sister, shewed Bashfull sinceritie and comely loue

Hero. And seem'd I euer otherwise to you? Clau. Out on thee seeming, I will write against it, You seeme to me as Diane in her Orbe, As chaste as is the budde ere it be blowne: But you are more intemperate in your blood, Than Venus, or those pampred animalls, That rage in sauage sensualitie

Hero. Is my Lord well, that he doth speake so wide? Leon. Sweete Prince, why speake not you? Prin. What should I speake? I stand dishonour'd that haue gone about, To linke my deare friend to a common stale

Leon. Are these things spoken, or doe I but dreame? Bast. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true

Bene. This lookes not like a nuptiall

Hero. True, O God! Clau. Leonato, stand I here? Is this the Prince? is this the Princes brother? Is this face Heroes? are our eies our owne? Leon. All this is so, but what of this my Lord? Clau. Let me but moue one question to your daughter, And by that fatherly and kindly power, That you haue in her, bid her answer truly

Leo. I charge thee doe, as thou art my childe

Hero. O God defend me how am I beset, What kinde of catechizing call you this? Clau. To make you answer truly to your name

Hero. Is it not Hero? who can blot that name With any iust reproach? Claud. Marry that can Hero, Hero it selfe can blot out Heroes vertue. What man was he, talkt with you yesternight, Out at your window betwixt twelue and one? Now if you are a maid, answer to this

Hero. I talkt with no man at that howre my Lord

Prince. Why then you are no maiden. Leonato, I am sorry you must heare: vpon mine honor, My selfe, my brother, and this grieued Count Did see her, heare her, at that howre last night, Talke with a ruffian at her chamber window, Who hath indeed most like a liberall villaine, Confest the vile encounters they haue had A thousand times in secret

Iohn. Fie, fie, they are not to be named my Lord, Not to be spoken of, There is not chastitie enough in language, Without offence to vtter them: thus pretty Lady I am sorry for thy much misgouernment

Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou beene If halfe thy outward graces had beene placed About thy thoughts and counsailes of thy heart? But fare thee well, most foule, most faire, farewell Thou pure impiety, and impious puritie, For thee Ile locke vp all the gates of Loue, And on my eie-lids shall Coniecture hang, To turne all beauty into thoughts of harme, And neuer shall it more be gracious

Leon. Hath no mans dagger here a point for me? Beat. Why how now cosin, wherfore sink you down? Bast. Come, let vs go: these things come thus to light, Smother her spirits vp

Bene. How doth the Lady? Beat. Dead I thinke, helpe vncle, Hero, why Hero, Vncle, Signor Benedicke, Frier

Leonato. O Fate! take not away thy heauy hand, Death is the fairest couer for her shame That may be wisht for

Beatr. How now cosin Hero? Fri. Haue comfort Ladie

Leon. Dost thou looke vp? Frier. Yea, wherefore should she not? Leon. Wherfore? Why doth not euery earthly thing Cry shame vpon her? Could she heere denie The storie that is printed in her blood? Do not liue Hero, do not ope thine eyes: For did I thinke thou wouldst not quickly die, Thought I thy spirits were stronger then thy shames, My selfe would on the reward of reproaches Strike at thy life. Grieu'd I, I had but one? Chid I, for that at frugal Natures frame? O one too much by thee: why had I one? Why euer was't thou louelie in my eies? Why had I not with charitable hand Tooke vp a beggars issue at my gates, Who smeered thus, and mir'd with infamie, I might haue said, no part of it is mine: This shame deriues it selfe from vnknowne loines, But mine, and mine I lou'd, and mine I prais'd, And mine that I was proud on mine so much, That I my selfe, was to my selfe not mine: Valewing of her, why she, O she is falne Into a pit of Inke, that the wide sea Hath drops too few to wash her cleane againe, And salt too little, which may season giue To her foule tainted flesh

Ben. Sir, sir, be patient: for my part, I am so attired in wonder, I know not what to say

Bea. O on my soule my cosin is belied

Ben. Ladie, were you her bedfellow last night? Bea. No, truly: not although vntill last night, I haue this tweluemonth bin her bedfellow

Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd, O that is stronger made Which was before barr'd vp with ribs of iron. Would the Princes lie, and Claudio lie, Who lou'd her so, that speaking of her foulnesse, Wash'd it with teares? Hence from her, let her die

Fri. Heare me a little, for I haue onely bene silent so long, and giuen way vnto this course of fortune, by noting of the Ladie, I haue markt. A thousand blushing apparitions, To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames, In Angel whitenesse beare away those blushes, And in her eie there hath appear'd a fire To burne the errors that these Princes hold Against her maiden truth. Call me a foole, Trust not my reading, nor my obseruations, Which with experimental seale doth warrant The tenure of my booke: trust not my age, My reuerence, calling, nor diuinitie, If this sweet Ladie lye not guiltlesse heere, Vnder some biting error

Leo. Friar, it cannot be: Thou seest that all the Grace that she hath left, Is, that she wil not adde to her damnation, A sinne of periury, she not denies it: Why seek'st thou then to couer with excuse, That which appeares in proper nakednesse? Fri. Ladie, what man is he you are accus'd of? Hero. They know that do accuse me, I know none: If I know more of any man aliue Then that which maiden modestie doth warrant, Let all my sinnes lacke mercy. O my Father, Proue you that any man with me conuerst, At houres vnmeete, or that I yesternight Maintain'd the change of words with any creature, Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death

Fri. There is some strange misprision in the Princes

Ben. Two of them haue the verie bent of honor, And if their wisedomes be misled in this: The practise of it liues in Iohn the bastard, Whose spirits toile in frame of villanies

Leo. I know not: if they speake but truth of her, These hands shall teare her: If they wrong her honour, The proudest of them shall wel heare of it. Time hath not yet so dried this bloud of mine, Nor age so eate vp my inuention, Nor Fortune made such hauocke of my meanes, Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, But they shall finde, awak'd in such a kinde, Both strength of limbe, and policie of minde, Ability in meanes, and choise of friends, To quit me of them throughly

Fri. Pause awhile: And let my counsell sway you in this case, Your daughter heere the Princesse (left for dead) Let her awhile be secretly kept in, And publish it, that she is dead indeed: Maintaine a mourning ostentation, And on your Families old monument, Hang mournfull Epitaphes, and do all rites, That appertaine vnto a buriall

Leon. What shall become of this? What wil this do? Fri. Marry this wel carried, shall on her behalfe, Change slander to remorse, that is some good, But not for that dreame I on this strange course, But on this trauaile looke for greater birth: She dying, as it must be so maintain'd, Vpon the instant that she was accus'd, Shal be lamented, pittied, and excus'd Of euery hearer: for it so fals out, That what we haue, we prize not to the worth, Whiles we enioy it; but being lack'd and lost, Why then we racke the value, then we finde The vertue that possession would not shew vs Whiles it was ours, so will it fare with Claudio: When he shal heare she dyed vpon his words, Th' Idea of her life shal sweetly creepe Into his study of imagination. And euery louely Organ of her life, Shall come apparel'd in more precious habite: More mouing delicate, and ful of life, Into the eye and prospect of his soule Then when she liu'd indeed: then shal he mourne, If euer Loue had interest in his Liuer, And wish he had not so accused her: No, though he thought his accusation true: Let this be so, and doubt not but successe Wil fashion the euent in better shape, Then I can lay it downe in likelihood. But if all ayme but this be leuelld false, The supposition of the Ladies death, Will quench the wonder of her infamie. And if it sort not well, you may conceale her As best befits her wounded reputation, In some reclusiue and religious life, Out of all eyes, tongues, mindes and iniuries

Bene. Signior Leonato, let the Frier aduise you, And though you know my inwardnesse and loue Is very much vnto the Prince and Claudio. Yet, by mine honor, I will deale in this, As secretly and iustlie, as your soule Should with your bodie

Leon. Being that I flow in greefe, The smallest twine may lead me

Frier. 'Tis well consented, presently away, For to strange sores, strangely they straine the cure, Come Lady, die to liue, this wedding day Perhaps is but prolong'd, haue patience & endure. Enter.

Bene. Lady Beatrice, haue you wept all this while? Beat. Yea, and I will weepe a while longer

Bene. I will not desire that

Beat. You haue no reason, I doe it freely

Bene. Surelie I do beleeue your fair cosin is wrong'd

Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserue of mee that would right her! Bene. Is there any way to shew such friendship? Beat. A verie euen way, but no such friend

Bene. May a man doe it? Beat. It is a mans office, but not yours

Bene. I doe loue nothing in the world so well as you, is not that strange? Beat. As strange as the thing I know not, it were as possible for me to say, I loued nothing so well as you, but beleeue me not, and yet I lie not, I confesse nothing, nor I deny nothing, I am sorry for my cousin

Bene. By my sword Beatrice thou lou'st me

Beat. Doe not sweare by it and eat it

Bene. I will sweare by it that you loue mee, and I will make him eat it that sayes I loue not you

Beat. Will you not eat your word? Bene. With no sawce that can be deuised to it, I protest I loue thee

Beat. Why then God forgiue me

Bene. What offence sweet Beatrice? Beat. You haue stayed me in a happy howre, I was about to protest I loued you

Bene. And doe it with all thy heart

Beat. I loue you with so much of my heart, that none is left to protest

Bened. Come, bid me doe any thing for thee

Beat. Kill Claudio

Bene. Ha, not for the wide world

Beat. You kill me to denie, farewell

Bene. Tarrie sweet Beatrice

Beat. I am gone, though I am heere, there is no loue in you, nay I pray you let me goe

Bene. Beatrice

Beat. Infaith I will goe

Bene. Wee'll be friends first

Beat. You dare easier be friends with mee, than fight with mine enemy

Bene. Is Claudio thine enemie? Beat. Is a not approued in the height a villaine, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O that I were a man! what, beare her in hand vntill they come to take hands, and then with publike accusation vncouered slander, vnmittigated rancour? O God that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place

Bene. Heare me Beatrice

Beat. Talke with a man out at a window, a proper saying

Bene. Nay but Beatrice

Beat. Sweet Hero, she is wrong'd, shee is slandered, she is vndone

Bene. Beat? Beat. Princes and Counties! surelie a Princely testimonie, a goodly Count, Comfect, a sweet Gallant surelie, O that I were a man for his sake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted into cursies, valour into complement, and men are onelie turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules, that only tells a lie, and sweares it: I cannot be a man with wishing, therfore I will die a woman with grieuing

Bene. Tarry good Beatrice, by this hand I loue thee

Beat. Vse it for my loue some other way then swearing by it

Bened. Thinke you in your soule the Count Claudio hath wrong'd Hero? Beat. Yea, as sure as I haue a thought, or a soule

Bene. Enough, I am engagde, I will challenge him, I will kisse your hand, and so leaue you: by this hand Claudio shall render me a deere account: as you heare of me, so thinke of me: goe comfort your coosin, I must say she is dead, and so farewell. Enter the Constables, Borachio, and the Towne Clerke in gownes.

Keeper. Is our whole dissembly appeard? Cowley. O a stoole and a cushion for the Sexton

Sexton. Which be the malefactors? Andrew. Marry that am I, and my partner

Cowley. Nay that's certaine, wee haue the exhibition to examine

Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to be examined, let them come before master Constable

Kemp. Yea marry, let them come before mee, what is your name, friend? Bor. Borachio

Kem. Pray write downe Borachio. Yours sirra

Con. I am a Gentleman sir, and my name is Conrade

Kee. Write downe Master gentleman Conrade: maisters, doe you serue God: maisters, it is proued alreadie that you are little better than false knaues, and it will goe neere to be thought so shortly, how answer you for your selues? Con. Marry sir, we say we are none

Kemp. A maruellous witty fellow I assure you, but I will goe about with him: come you hither sirra, a word in your eare sir, I say to you, it is thought you are false knaues

Bor. Sir, I say to you, we are none

Kemp. Well, stand aside, 'fore God they are both in a tale: haue you writ downe that they are none? Sext. Master Constable, you goe not the way to examine, you must call forth the watch that are their accusers

Kemp. Yea marry, that's the eftest way, let the watch come forth: masters, I charge you in the Princes name, accuse these men

Watch 1. This man said sir, that Don Iohn the Princes brother was a villaine

Kemp. Write down, Prince Iohn a villaine: why this is flat periurie, to call a Princes brother villaine

Bora. Master Constable

Kemp. Pray thee fellow peace, I do not like thy looke I promise thee

Sexton. What heard you him say else? Watch 2. Mary that he had receiued a thousand Dukates of Don Iohn, for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully

Kemp. Flat Burglarie as euer was committed

Const. Yea by th' masse that it is

Sexton. What else fellow? Watch 1. And that Count Claudio did meane vpon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her

Kemp. O villaine! thou wilt be condemn'd into euerlasting redemption for this

Sexton. What else? Watch. This is all

Sexton. And this is more masters then you can deny, Prince Iohn is this morning secretly stolne away: Hero was in this manner accus'd, in this very manner refus'd, and vpon the griefe of this sodainely died: Master Constable, let these men be bound, and brought to Leonato, I will goe before, and shew him their examination

Const. Come, let them be opinion'd

Sex. Let them be in the hands of Coxcombe

Kem. Gods my life, where's the Sexton? let him write downe the Princes Officer Coxcombe: come, binde them thou naughty varlet

Couley. Away, you are an asse, you are an asse

Kemp. Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not suspect my yeeres? O that hee were heere to write mee downe an asse! but masters, remember that I am an asse: though it be not written down, yet forget not y I am an asse: No thou villaine, y art full of piety as shall be prou'd vpon thee by good witnesse, I am a wise fellow, and which is more, an officer, and which is more, a houshoulder, and which is more, as pretty a peece of flesh as any in Messina, and one that knowes the Law, goe to, & a rich fellow enough, goe to, and a fellow that hath had losses, and one that hath two gownes, and euery thing handsome about him: bring him away: O that I had been writ downe an asse! Enter.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Leonato and his brother.

Brother. If you goe on thus, you will kill your selfe, And 'tis not wisedome thus to second griefe, Against your selfe

Leon. I pray thee cease thy counsaile, Which falls into mine eares as profitlesse, As water in a siue: giue not me counsaile, Nor let no comfort delight mine eare, But such a one whose wrongs doth sute with mine. Bring me a father that so lou'd his childe, Whose ioy of her is ouer-whelmed like mine, And bid him speake of patience, Measure his woe the length and bredth of mine, And let it answere euery straine for straine, As thus for thus, and such a griefe for such, In euery lineament, branch, shape, and forme: If such a one will smile and stroke his beard, And sorrow, wagge, crie hem, when he should grone, Patch griefe with prouerbs, make misfortune drunke, With candle-wasters: bring him yet to me, And I of him will gather patience: But there is no such man, for brother, men Can counsaile, and speake comfort to that griefe, Which they themselues not feele, but tasting it, Their counsaile turnes to passion, which before, Would giue preceptiall medicine to rage, Fetter strong madnesse in a silken thred, Charme ache with ayre, and agony with words, No, no, 'tis all mens office, to speake patience To those that wring vnder the load of sorrow: But no mans vertue nor sufficiencie To be so morall, when he shall endure The like himselfe: therefore giue me no counsaile, My griefs cry lowder then aduertisement

Broth. Therein do men from children nothing differ

Leonato. I pray thee peace, I will be flesh and bloud, For there was neuer yet Philosopher, That could endure the tooth-ake patiently, How euer they haue writ the stile of gods, And made a push at chance and sufferance

Brother. Yet bend not all the harme vpon your selfe, Make those that doe offend you, suffer too

Leon. There thou speak'st reason, nay I will doe so, My soule doth tell me, Hero is belied, And that shall Claudio know, so shall the Prince, And all of them that thus dishonour her. Enter Prince and Claudio.

Brot. Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily

Prin. Good den, good den

Clau. Good day to both of you

Leon. Heare you my Lords? Prin. We haue some haste Leonato

Leo. Some haste my Lord! wel, fareyouwel my Lord, Are you so hasty now? well, all is one

Prin. Nay, do not quarrel with vs, good old man

Brot. If he could rite himselfe with quarrelling, Some of vs would lie low

Claud. Who wrongs him? Leon. Marry y dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou: Nay, neuer lay thy hand vpon thy sword, I feare thee not

Claud. Marry beshrew my hand, If it should giue your age such cause of feare, Infaith my hand meant nothing to my sword

Leonato. Tush, tush, man, neuer fleere and iest at me, I speake not like a dotard, nor a foole, As vnder priuiledge of age to bragge, What I haue done being yong, or what would doe, Were I not old, know Claudio to thy head, Thou hast so wrong'd my innocent childe and me, That I am forc'd to lay my reuerence by, And with grey haires and bruise of many daies, Doe challenge thee to triall of a man, I say thou hast belied mine innocent childe. Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, And she lies buried with her ancestors: O in a tombe where neuer scandall slept, Saue this of hers, fram'd by thy villanie

Claud. My villany? Leonato. Thine Claudio, thine I say

Prin. You say not right old man

Leon. My Lord, my Lord, Ile proue it on his body if he dare, Despight his nice fence, and his actiue practise, His Maie of youth, and bloome of lustihood

Claud. Away, I will not haue to do with you

Leo. Canst thou so daffe me? thou hast kild my child, If thou kilst me, boy, thou shalt kill a man

Bro. He shall kill two of vs, and men indeed, But that's no matter, let him kill one first: Win me and weare me, let him answere me, Come follow me boy, come sir boy, come follow me Sir boy, ile whip you from your foyning fence, Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will

Leon. Brother

Brot. Content your self, God knows I lou'd my neece, And she is dead, slander'd to death by villaines, That dare as well answer a man indeede, As I dare take a serpent by the tongue. Boyes, apes, braggarts, Iackes, milke-sops

Leon. Brother Anthony

Brot. Hold you content, what man? I know them, yea And what they weigh, euen to the vtmost scruple, Scambling, out-facing, fashion-monging boyes, That lye, and cog, and flout, depraue, and slander, Goe antiquely, and show outward hidiousnesse, And speake of halfe a dozen dang'rous words, How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst. And this is all

Leon. But brother Anthonie

Ant. Come, 'tis no matter, Do not you meddle, let me deale in this

Pri. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience My heart is sorry for your daughters death: But on my honour she was charg'd with nothing But what was true, and very full of proofe

Leon. My Lord, my Lord

Prin. I will not heare you. Enter Benedicke.

Leo. No come brother, away, I will be heard.

Exeunt. ambo.

Bro. And shall, or some of vs will smart for it

Prin. See, see, here comes the man we went to seeke

Clau. Now signior, what newes? Ben. Good day my Lord

Prin. Welcome signior, you are almost come to part almost a fray

Clau. Wee had likt to haue had our two noses snapt off with two old men without teeth

Prin. Leonato and his brother, what think'st thou? had wee fought, I doubt we should haue beene too yong for them

Ben. In a false quarrell there is no true valour, I came to seeke you both

Clau. We haue beene vp and downe to seeke thee, for we are high proofe melancholly, and would faine haue it beaten away, wilt thou vse thy wit? Ben. It is in my scabberd, shall I draw it? Prin. Doest thou weare thy wit by thy side? Clau. Neuer any did so, though verie many haue been beside their wit, I will bid thee drawe, as we do the minstrels, draw to pleasure vs

Prin. As I am an honest man he lookes pale, art thou sicke, or angrie? Clau. What, courage man: what though care kil'd a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care

Ben. Sir, I shall meete your wit in the careere, and you charge it against me, I pray you chuse another subiect

Clau. Nay then giue him another staffe, this last was broke crosse

Prin. By this light, he changes more and more, I thinke he be angrie indeede

Clau. If he be, he knowes how to turne his girdle

Ben. Shall I speake a word in your eare? Clau. God blesse me from a challenge

Ben. You are a villaine, I iest not, I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare: do me right, or I will protest your cowardise: you haue kill'd a sweete Ladie, and her death shall fall heauie on you, let me heare from you

Clau. Well, I will meete you, so I may haue good cheare

Prin. What, a feast, a feast? Clau. I faith I thanke him, he hath bid me to a calues head and a Capon, the which if I doe not carue most curiously, say my knife's naught, shall I not finde a woodcocke too? Ben. Sir, your wit ambles well, it goes easily

Prin. Ile tell thee how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the other day: I said thou hadst a fine wit: true saies she, a fine little one: no said I, a great wit: right saies shee, a great grosse one: nay said I, a good wit: iust said she, it hurts no body: nay said I, the gentleman is wise: certaine said she, a wise gentleman: nay said I, he hath the tongues: that I beleeue said shee, for hee swore a thing to me on munday night, which he forswore on tuesday morning: there's a double tongue, there's two tongues: thus did shee an howre together trans-shape thy particular vertues, yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the proprest man in Italie

Claud. For the which she wept heartily, and said shee car'd not

Prin. Yea that she did, but yet for all that, and if shee did not hate him deadlie, shee would loue him dearely, the old mans daughter told vs all

Clau. All, all, and moreouer, God saw him when he was hid in the garden

Prin. But when shall we set the sauage Bulls hornes on the sensible Benedicks head? Clau. Yea and text vnderneath, heere dwells Benedicke the married man

Ben. Fare you well, Boy, you know my minde, I will leaue you now to your gossep-like humor, you breake iests as braggards do their blades, which God be thanked hurt not: my Lord, for your manie courtesies I thank you, I must discontinue your companie, your brother the Bastard is fled from Messina: you haue among you, kill'd a sweet and innocent Ladie: for my Lord Lackebeard there, he and I shall meete, and till then peace be with him

Prin. He is in earnest

Clau. In most profound earnest, and Ile warrant you, for the loue of Beatrice

Prin. And hath challeng'd thee

Clau. Most sincerely

Prin. What a prettie thing man is, when he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaues off his wit. Enter Constable, Conrade, and Borachio.

Clau. He is then a Giant to an Ape, but then is an Ape a Doctor to such a man

Prin. But soft you, let me be, plucke vp my heart, and be sad, did he not say my brother was fled? Const. Come you sir, if iustice cannot tame you, shee shall nere weigh more reasons in her ballance, nay, and you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be lookt to

Prin. How now, two of my brothers men bound? Borachio one

Clau. Harken after their offence my Lord

Prin. Officers, what offence haue these men done? Const. Marrie sir, they haue committed false report, moreouer they haue spoken vntruths, secondarily they are slanders, sixt and lastly, they haue belyed a Ladie, thirdly, they haue verified vniust things, and to conclude they are lying knaues

Prin. First I aske thee what they haue done, thirdlie I aske thee what's their offence, sixt and lastlie why they are committed, and to conclude, what you lay to their charge

Clau. Rightlie reasoned, and in his owne diuision, and by my troth there's one meaning well suted

Prin. Who haue you offended masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? this learned Constable is too cunning to be vnderstood, what's your offence? Bor. Sweete Prince, let me go no farther to mine answere: do you heare me, and let this Count kill mee: I haue deceiued euen your verie eies: what your wisedomes could not discouer, these shallow fooles haue brought to light, who in the night ouerheard me confessing to this man, how Don Iohn your brother incensed me to slander the Ladie Hero, how you were brought into the Orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Heroes garments, how you disgrac'd her when you should marrie her: my villanie they haue vpon record, which I had rather seale with my death, then repeate ouer to my shame: the Ladie is dead vpon mine and my masters false accusation: and briefelie, I desire nothing but the reward of a villaine

Prin. Runs not this speech like yron through your bloud? Clau. I haue drunke poison whiles he vtter'd it

Prin. But did my Brother set thee on to this? Bor. Yea, and paid me richly for the practise of it

Prin. He is compos'd and fram'd of treacherie, And fled he is vpon this villanie

Clau. Sweet Hero, now thy image doth appeare In the rare semblance that I lou'd it first

Const. Come, bring away the plaintiffes, by this time our Sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter: and masters, do not forget to specifie when time & place shall serue, that I am an Asse

Con.2. Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the Sexton too. Enter Leonato.

Leon. Which is the villaine? let me see his eies, That when I note another man like him, I may auoide him: which of these is he? Bor. If you would know your wronger, looke on me

Leon. Art thou the slaue that with thy breath hast kild mine innocent childe? Bor. Yea, euen I alone

Leo. No, not so villaine, thou beliest thy selfe, Here stand a paire of honourable men, A third is fled that had a hand in it: I thanke you Princes for my daughters death, Record it with your high and worthie deedes, 'Twas brauely done, if you bethinke you of it

Clau. I know not how to pray your patience, Yet I must speake, choose your reuenge your selfe, Impose me to what penance your inuention Can lay vpon my sinne, yet sinn'd I not, But in mistaking

Prin. By my soule nor I, And yet to satisfie this good old man, I would bend vnder anie heauie waight, That heele enioyne me to

Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter liue, That were impossible, but I praie you both, Possesse the people in Messina here, How innocent she died, and if your loue Can labour aught in sad inuention, Hang her an epitaph vpon her toomb, And sing it to her bones, sing it to night: To morrow morning come you to my house, And since you could not be my sonne in law, Be yet my Nephew: my brother hath a daughter, Almost the copie of my childe that's dead, And she alone is heire to both of vs, Giue her the right you should haue giu'n her cosin, And so dies my reuenge

Clau. O noble sir! Your ouerkindnesse doth wring teares from me, I do embrace your offer, and dispose For henceforth of poore Claudio

Leon. To morrow then I will expect your comming, To night I take my leaue, this naughtie man Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, Who I beleeue was packt in all this wrong, Hired to it by your brother

Bor. No, by my soule she was not, Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me, But alwaies hath bin iust and vertuous, In anie thing that I do know by her

Const. Moreouer sir, which indeede is not vnder white and black, this plaintiffe here, the offendour did call mee asse, I beseech you let it be remembred in his punishment, and also the watch heard them talke of one Deformed, they say he weares a key in his eare and a lock hanging by it, and borrowes monie in Gods name, the which he hath vs'd so long, and neuer paied, that now men grow hard-harted and will lend nothing for Gods sake: praie you examine him vpon that point

Leon. I thanke thee for thy care and honest paines

Const. Your worship speakes like a most thankefull and reuerend youth, and I praise God for you

Leon. There's for thy paines

Const. God saue the foundation

Leon. Goe, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thanke thee

Const. I leaue an arrant knaue with your worship, which I beseech your worship to correct your selfe, for the example of others: God keepe your worship, I wish your worship well, God restore you to health, I humblie giue you leaue to depart, and if a merrie meeting may be wisht, God prohibite it: come neighbour

Leon. Vntill to morrow morning, Lords, farewell.

Exeunt.

Brot. Farewell my Lords, we looke for you to morrow

Prin. We will not faile

Clau. To night ile mourne with Hero

Leon. Bring you these fellowes on, weel talke with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow.

Exeunt.

Enter Benedicke and Margaret.

Ben. Praie thee sweete Mistris Margaret, deserue well at my hands, by helping mee to the speech of Beatrice

Mar. Will you then write me a Sonnet in praise of my beautie? Bene. In so high a stile Margaret, that no man liuing shall come ouer it, for in most comely truth thou deseruest it

Mar. To haue no man come ouer me, why, shall I alwaies keepe below staires? Bene. Thy wit is as quicke as the grey-hounds mouth, it catches

Mar. And yours, as blunt as the Fencers foiles, which hit, but hurt not

Bene. A most manly wit Margaret, it will not hurt a woman: and so I pray thee call Beatrice, I giue thee the bucklers

Mar. Giue vs the swords, wee haue bucklers of our owne

Bene. If you vse them Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for Maides

Mar. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I thinke hath legges.

Exit Margarite.

Ben. And therefore will come. The God of loue that sits aboue, and knowes me, and knowes me, how pittifull I deserue. I meane in singing, but in louing, Leander the good swimmer, Troilous the first imploier of pandars, and a whole booke full of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose name yet runne smoothly in the euen rode of a blanke verse, why they were neuer so truely turned ouer and ouer as my poore selfe in loue: marrie I cannot shew it rime, I haue tried, I can finde out no rime to Ladie but babie, an innocent rime: for scorne, horne, a hard rime: for schoole foole, a babling rime: verie ominous endings, no, I was not borne vnder a riming Plannet, for I cannot wooe in festiuall tearmes: Enter Beatrice.

sweete Beatrice would'st thou come when I cal'd thee? Beat. Yea Signior, and depart when you bid me

Bene. O stay but till then

Beat. Then, is spoken: fare you well now, and yet ere I goe, let me goe with that I came, which is, with knowing what hath past betweene you and Claudio

Bene. Onely foule words, and thereupon I will kisse thee

Beat. Foule words is but foule wind, and foule wind is but foule breath, and foule breath is noisome, therefore I will depart vnkist

Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sence, so forcible is thy wit, but I must tell thee plainely, Claudio vndergoes my challenge, and either I must shortly heare from him, or I will subscribe him a coward, and I pray thee now tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in loue with me? Beat. For them all together, which maintain'd so politique a state of euill, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them: but for which of my good parts did you first suffer loue for me? Bene. Suffer loue! a good epithite, I do suffer loue indeede, for I loue thee against my will, Beat. In spight of your heart I think, alas poore heart, if you spight it for my sake, I will spight it for yours, for I will neuer loue that which my friend hates

Bened. Thou and I are too wise to wooe peaceablie

Bea. It appeares not in this confession, there's not one wise man among twentie that will praise himselfe

Bene. An old, an old instance Beatrice, that liu'd in the time of good neighbours, if a man doe not erect in this age his owne tombe ere he dies, hee shall liue no longer in monuments, then the Bels ring, & the Widdow weepes

Beat. And how long is that thinke you? Ben. Question, why an hower in clamour and a quarter in rhewme, therfore is it most expedient for the wise, if Don worme (his conscience) finde no impediment to the contrarie, to be the trumpet of his owne vertues, as I am to my selfe so much for praising my selfe, who I my selfe will beare witnesse is praise worthie, and now tell me, how doth your cosin? Beat. Verie ill

Bene. And how doe you? Beat. Verie ill too. Enter Vrsula.

Bene. Serue God, loue me, and mend, there will I leaue you too, for here comes one in haste

Vrs. Madam, you must come to your Vncle, yonders old coile at home, it is prooued my Ladie Hero hath bin falselie accusde, the Prince and Claudio mightilie abusde, and Don Iohn is the author of all, who is fled and gone: will you come presentlie? Beat. Will you go heare this newes Signior? Bene. I will liue in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eies: and moreouer, I will goe with thee to thy Vncles.

Exeunt.

Enter Claudio, Prince, and three or foure with Tapers.

Clau. Is this the monument of Leonato? Lord. It is my Lord.

Epitaph.

Done to death by slanderous tongues, Was the Hero that here lies: Death in guerdon of her wrongs, Giues her fame which neuer dies: So the life that dyed with shame, Liues in death with glorious fame. Hang thou there vpon the tombe, Praising her when I am dombe

Clau. Now musick sound & sing your solemn hymne

Song.

Pardon goddesse of the night, Those that slew thy virgin knight, For the which with songs of woe, Round about her tombe they goe: Midnight assist our mone, helpe vs to sigh and grone. Heauily, heauily. Graues yawne and yeelde your dead, Till death be vttered, Heauenly, heauenly

Lo. Now vnto thy bones good night, yeerely will I do this right

Prin. Good morrow masters, put your Torches out, The wolues haue preied, and looke, the gentle day Before the wheeles of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsie East with spots of grey: Thanks to you all, and leaue vs, fare you well

Clau. Good morrow masters, each his seuerall way

Prin. Come let vs hence, and put on other weedes, And then to Leonatoes we will goe

Clau. And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds, Then this for whom we rendred vp this woe.

Exeunt.

Enter Leonato, Bene. Marg. Vrsula, old man, Frier, Hero.

Frier. Did I not tell you she was innocent? Leo. So are the Prince and Claudio who accus'd her, Vpon the errour that you heard debated: But Margaret was in some fault for this, Although against her will as it appeares, In the true course of all the question

Old. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well

Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it

Leo. Well daughter, and you gentlewomen all, Withdraw into a chamber by your selues, And when I send for you, come hither mask'd: The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this howre To visit me, you know your office Brother, You must be father to your brothers daughter, And giue her to young Claudio.

Exeunt. Ladies.

Old. Which I will doe with confirm'd countenance

Bene. Frier, I must intreat your paines, I thinke

Frier. To doe what Signior? Bene. To binde me, or vndoe me, one of them: Signior Leonato, truth it is good Signior, Your neece regards me with an eye of fauour

Leo. That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis most true

Bene. And I doe with an eye of loue requite her

Leo. The sight whereof I thinke you had from me, From Claudio, and the Prince, but what's your will? Bened. Your answer sir is Enigmaticall, But for my will, my will is, your good will May stand with ours, this day to be conioyn'd, In the state of honourable marriage, In which (good Frier) I shall desire your helpe

Leon. My heart is with your liking

Frier. And my helpe. Enter Prince and Claudio, with attendants.

Prin. Good morrow to this faire assembly

Leo. Good morrow Prince, good morrow Claudio: We heere attend you, are you yet determin'd, To day to marry with my brothers daughter? Claud. Ile hold my minde were she an Ethiope

Leo. Call her forth brother, heres the Frier ready

Prin. Good morrow Benedicke, why what's the matter? That you haue such a Februarie face, So full of frost, of storme, and clowdinesse

Claud. I thinke he thinkes vpon the sauage bull: Tush, feare not man, wee'll tip thy hornes with gold, And all Europa shall reioyce at thee, As once Europa did at lusty Ioue, When he would play the noble beast in loue

Ben. Bull Ioue sir, had an amiable low, And some such strange bull leapt your fathers Cow, A got a Calfe in that same noble feat, Much like to you, for you haue iust his bleat. Enter brother, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, Vrsula.

Cla. For this I owe you: here comes other recknings. Which is the Lady I must seize vpon? Leo. This same is she, and I doe giue you her

Cla. Why then she's mine, sweet let me see your face

Leon. No that you shal not, till you take her hand, Before this Frier, and sweare to marry her

Clau. Giue me your hand before this holy Frier, I am your husband if you like of me

Hero. And when I liu'd I was your other wife, And when you lou'd, you were my other husband

Clau. Another Hero? Hero. Nothing certainer. One Hero died, but I doe liue, And surely as I liue, I am a maid

Prin. The former Hero, Hero that is dead

Leon. Shee died my Lord, but whiles her slander liu'd

Frier. All this amazement can I qualifie, When after that the holy rites are ended, Ile tell you largely of faire Heroes death: Meane time let wonder seeme familiar, And to the chappell let vs presently

Ben. Soft and faire Frier, which is Beatrice? Beat. I answer to that name, what is your will? Bene. Doe not you loue me? Beat. Why no, no more then reason

Bene. Why then your Vncle, and the Prince, & Claudio, haue beene deceiued, they swore you did

Beat. Doe not you loue mee? Bene. Troth no, no more then reason

Beat. Why then my Cosin Margaret and Vrsula Are much deceiu'd, for they did sweare you did

Bene. They swore you were almost sicke for me

Beat. They swore you were wel-nye dead for me

Bene. 'Tis no matter, then you doe not loue me? Beat. No truly, but in friendly recompence

Leon. Come Cosin, I am sure you loue the gentlema[n]

Clau. And Ile be sworne vpon't, that he loues her, For heres a paper written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his owne pure braine, Fashioned to Beatrice

Hero. And heeres another, Writ in my cosins hand, stolne from her pocket, Containing her affection vnto Benedicke

Bene. A miracle, here's our owne hands against our hearts: come I will haue thee, but by this light I take thee for pittie

Beat. I would not denie you, but by this good day, I yeeld vpon great perswasion, & partly to saue your life, for I was told, you were in a consumption

Leon. Peace I will stop your mouth

Prin. How dost thou Benedicke the married man? Bene. Ile tell thee what Prince: a Colledge of witte-crackers cannot flout mee out of my humour, dost thou think I care for a Satyre or an Epigram? no, if a man will be beaten with braines, a shall weare nothing handsome about him: in briefe, since I do purpose to marry, I will thinke nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it, and therefore neuer flout at me, for I haue said against it: for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion: for thy part Claudio, I did thinke to haue beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, liue vnbruis'd, and loue my cousin

Cla. I had well hop'd y wouldst haue denied Beatrice, y I might haue cudgel'd thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer, which out of questio[n] thou wilt be, if my Cousin do not looke exceeding narrowly to thee

Bene. Come, come, we are friends, let's haue a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wiues heeles

Leon. Wee'll haue dancing afterward

Bene. First, of my word, therfore play musick. Prince, thou art sad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife, there is no staff more reuerend then one tipt with horn. Enter. Mes.

Messen. My Lord, your brother Iohn is tane in flight, And brought with armed men backe to Messina

Bene. Thinke not on him till to morrow, ile deuise thee braue punishments for him: strike vp Pipers.

Dance.

FINIS. Much adoe about Nothing.

Loues Labour's lost

Actus primus.

Enter Ferdinand King of Nauarre, Berowne, Longauill, and Dumane.

Ferdinand. Let Fame, that all hunt after in their liues, Liue registred vpon our brazen Tombes, And then grace vs in the disgrace of death: when spight of cormorant deuouring Time, Th' endeuour of this present breath may buy: That honour which shall bate his sythes keene edge, And make vs heyres of all eternitie. Therefore braue Conquerours, for so you are, That warre against your owne affections, And the huge Armie of the worlds desires. Our late edict shall strongly stand in force, Nauar shall be the wonder of the world. Our Court shall be a little Achademe, Still and contemplatiue in liuing Art. You three, Berowne, Dumaine, and Longauill, Haue sworne for three yeeres terme, to liue with me: My fellow Schollers, and to keepe those statutes That are recorded in this scedule heere. Your oathes are past, and now subscribe your names: That his owne hand may strike his honour downe, That violates the smallest branch heerein: If you are arm'd to doe, as sworne to do, Subscribe to your deepe oathes, and keepe it to

Longauill. I am resolu'd, 'tis but a three yeeres fast: The minde shall banquet, though the body pine, Fat paunches haue leane pates: and dainty bits, Make rich the ribs, but bankerout the wits

Dumane. My louing Lord, Dumane is mortified, The grosser manner of these worlds delights, He throwes vpon the grosse worlds baser slaues: To loue, to wealth, to pompe, I pine and die, With all these liuing in Philosophie

Berowne. I can but say their protestation ouer, So much, deare Liege, I haue already sworne, That is, to liue and study heere three yeeres. But there are other strict obseruances: As not to see a woman in that terme, Which I hope well is not enrolled there. And one day in a weeke to touch no foode: And but one meale on euery day beside: The which I hope is not enrolled there. And then to sleepe but three houres in the night, And not be seene to winke of all the day. When I was wont to thinke no harme all night, And make a darke night too of halfe the day: Which I hope well is not enrolled there. O, these are barren taskes, too hard to keepe, Not to see Ladies, study, fast, not sleepe

Ferd. Your oath is past, to passe away from these

Berow. Let me say no my Liedge, and if you please, I onely swore to study with your grace, And stay heere in your Court for three yeeres space

Longa. You swore to that Berowne, and to the rest

Berow. By yea and nay sir, than I swore in iest. What is the end of study, let me know? Fer. Why that to know which else wee should not know

Ber. Things hid & bard (you meane) fro[m] co[m]mon sense

Ferd. I, that is studies god-like recompence

Bero. Come on then, I will sweare to studie so, To know the thing I am forbid to know: As thus, to study where I well may dine, When I to fast expressely am forbid. Or studie where to meete some Mistresse fine, When Mistresses from common sense are hid. Or hauing sworne too hard a keeping oath, Studie to breake it, and not breake my troth. If studies gaine be thus, and this be so, Studie knowes that which yet it doth not know, Sweare me to this, and I will nere say no

Ferd. These be the stops that hinder studie quite, And traine our intellects to vaine delight

Ber. Why? all delights are vaine, and that most vaine Which with paine purchas'd, doth inherit paine, As painefully to poare vpon a Booke, To seeke the light of truth, while truth the while Doth falsely blinde the eye-sight of his looke: Light seeking light, doth light of light beguile: So ere you finde where light in darkenesse lies, Your light growes darke by losing of your eyes. Studie me how to please the eye indeede, By fixing it vpon a fairer eye, Who dazling so, that eye shall be his heed, And giue him light that it was blinded by. Studie is like the heauens glorious Sunne, That will not be deepe search'd with sawcy lookes: Small haue continuall plodders euer wonne, Saue base authoritie from others Bookes. These earthly Godfathers of heauens lights, That giue a name to euery fixed Starre, Haue no more profit of their shining nights, Then those that walke and wot not what they are. Too much to know, is to know nought but fame: And euery Godfather can giue a name

Fer. How well hee's read, to reason against reading

Dum. Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding

Lon. Hee weedes the corne, and still lets grow the weeding

Ber. The Spring is neare when greene geesse are a breeding

Dum. How followes that? Ber. Fit in his place and time

Dum. In reason nothing

Ber. Something then in rime

Ferd. Berowne is like an enuious sneaping Frost, That bites the first borne infants of the Spring

Ber. Wel, say I am, why should proud Summer boast, Before the Birds haue any cause to sing? Why should I ioy in any abortiue birth? At Christmas I no more desire a Rose, Then wish a Snow in Mayes new fangled showes: But like of each thing that in season growes. So you to studie now it is too late, That were to clymbe ore the house to vnlocke the gate

Fer. Well, sit you out: go home Berowne: adue

Ber. No my good Lord, I haue sworn to stay with you. And though I haue for barbarisme spoke more, Then for that Angell knowledge you can say, Yet confident Ile keepe what I haue sworne, And bide the pennance of each three yeares day. Giue me the paper, let me reade the same, And to the strictest decrees Ile write my name

Fer. How well this yeelding rescues thee from shame

Ber. Item. That no woman shall come within a mile of my Court. Hath this bin proclaimed? Lon. Foure dayes agoe

Ber. Let's see the penaltie. On paine of loosing her tongue. Who deuis'd this penaltie? Lon. Marry that did I

Ber. Sweete Lord, and why? Lon. To fright them hence with that dread penaltie, A dangerous law against gentilitie. Item, If any man be seene to talke with a woman within the tearme of three yeares, hee shall indure such publique shame as the rest of the Court shall possibly deuise

Ber. This Article my Liedge your selfe must breake, For well you know here comes in Embassie The French Kings daughter, with your selfe to speake: A Maide of grace and compleate maiestie, About surrender vp of Aquitaine: To her decrepit, sicke, and bed-rid Father. Therefore this Article is made in vaine, Or vainly comes th' admired Princesse hither

Fer. What say you Lords? Why, this was quite forgot

Ber. So Studie euermore is ouershot, While it doth study to haue what it would, It doth forget to doe the thing it should: And when it hath the thing it hunteth most, 'Tis won as townes with fire, so won, so lost

Fer. We must of force dispence with this Decree, She must lye here on meere necessitie

Ber. Necessity will make vs all forsworne Three thousand times within this three yeeres space: For euery man with his affects is borne, Not by might mastred, but by speciall grace. If I breake faith, this word shall breake for me, I am forsworne on meere necessitie. So to the Lawes at large I write my name, And he that breakes them in the least degree, Stands in attainder of eternall shame. Suggestions are to others as to me: But I beleeue although I seeme so loth, I am the last that will last keepe his oth. But is there no quicke recreation granted? Fer. I that there is, our Court you know is hanted With a refined trauailer of Spaine, A man in all the worlds new fashion planted, That hath a mint of phrases in his braine: One, who the musicke of his owne vaine tongue, Doth rauish like inchanting harmonie: A man of complements whom right and wrong Haue chose as vmpire of their mutinie. This childe of fancie that Armado hight, For interim to our studies shall relate, In high-borne words the worth of many a Knight: From tawnie Spaine lost in the worlds debate. How you delight my Lords, I know not I, But I protest I loue to heare him lie, And I will vse him for my Minstrelsie

Bero. Armado is a most illustrious wight, A man of fire, new words, fashions owne Knight

Lon. Costard the swaine and he, shall be our sport, And so to studie, three yeeres is but short. Enter a Constable with Costard with a Letter.

Const. Which is the Dukes owne person

Ber. This fellow, What would'st? Con. I my selfe reprehend his owne person, for I am his graces Tharborough: But I would see his own person in flesh and blood

Ber. This is he

Con. Signeor Arme, Arme commends you: Ther's villanie abroad, this letter will tell you more

Clow. Sir the Contempts thereof are as touching mee

Fer. A letter from the magnificent Armado

Ber. How low soeuer the matter, I hope in God for high words

Lon. A high hope for a low heauen, God grant vs patience

Ber. To heare, or forbeare hearing

Lon. To heare meekely sir, and to laugh moderately, or to forbeare both

Ber. Well sir, be it as the stile shall giue vs cause to clime in the merrinesse

Clo. The matter is to me sir, as concerning Iaquenetta. The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner

Ber. In what manner? Clo. In manner and forme following sir all those three. I was seene with her in the Mannor house, sitting with her vpon the Forme, and taken following her into the Parke: which put to gether, is in manner and forme following. Now sir for the manner; It is the manner of a man to speake to a woman, for the forme in some forme

Ber. For the following sir

Clo. As it shall follow in my correction, and God defend the right

Fer. Will you heare this Letter with attention? Ber. As we would heare an Oracle

Clo. Such is the simplicitie of man to harken after the flesh

Ferdinand. Great Deputie, the Welkins Vicegerent, and sole dominator of Nauar, my soules earths God, and bodies fostring patrone: Cost. Not a word of Costard yet

Ferd. So it is

Cost. It may be so: but if he say it is so, he is in telling true: but so

Ferd. Peace, Clow. Be to me, and euery man that dares not fight

Ferd. No words, Clow. Of other mens secrets I beseech you

Ferd. So it is besieged with sable coloured melancholie, I did commend the blacke oppressing humour to the most wholesome Physicke of thy health-giuing ayre: And as I am a Gentleman, betooke my selfe to walke: the time When? about the sixt houre, When beasts most grase, birds best pecke, and men sit downe to that nourishment which is called supper: So much for the time When. Now for the ground Which? which I meane I walkt vpon, it is ycliped, Thy Parke. Then for the place Where? where I meane I did encounter that obscene and most preposterous euent that draweth from my snow-white pen the ebon coloured Inke, which heere thou viewest, beholdest: suruayest, or seest. But to the place Where? It standeth North North-east and by East from the West corner of thy curious knotted garden; There did I see that low spirited Swaine, that base Minow of thy myrth, Clown. Mee? Ferd. that vnletered small knowing soule, Clow Me? Ferd. that shallow vassall Clow. Still mee?) Ferd. which as I remember, hight Costard, Clow. O me) Ferd. sorted and consorted contrary to thy established proclaymed Edict and Continent, Cannon: Which with, o with, but with this I passion to say wherewith: Clo. With a Wench

Ferd. With a childe of our Grandmother Eue, a female; or for thy more sweet understanding a woman: him, I (as my euer esteemed dutie prickes me on) haue sent to thee, to receiue the meed of punishment by the sweet Graces Officer Anthony Dull, a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, & estimation

Anth. Me, an't shall please you? I am Anthony Dull

Ferd. For Iaquenetta (so is the weaker vessell called) which I apprehended with the aforesaid Swaine, I keepe her as a vessell of thy Lawes furie, and shall at the least of thy sweet notice, bring her to triall. Thine in all complements of deuoted and heart-burning heat of dutie. Don Adriana de Armado

Ber. This is not so well as I looked for, but the best that euer I heard

Fer. I the best, for the worst. But sirra, What say you to this? Clo. Sir I confesse the Wench

Fer. Did you heare the Proclamation? Clo. I doe confesse much of the hearing it, but little of the marking of it

Fer. It was proclaimed a yeeres imprisonment to bee taken with a Wench

Clow. I was taken with none sir, I was taken with a Damosell

Fer. Well, it was proclaimed Damosell

Clo. This was no Damosell neyther sir, shee was a Virgin

Fer. It is so varried to, for it was proclaimed Virgin

Clo. If it were, I denie her Virginitie: I was taken with a Maide

Fer. This Maid will not serue your turne sir

Clo. This Maide will serue my turne sir

Kin. Sir I will pronounce your sentence: You shall fast a Weeke with Branne and water

Clo. I had rather pray a Moneth with Mutton and Porridge

Kin. And Don Armado shall be your keeper. My Lord Berowne, see him deliuer'd ore, And goe we Lords to put in practice that, Which each to other hath so strongly sworne

Bero. Ile lay my head to any good mans hat, These oathes and lawes will proue an idle scorne. Sirra, come on

Clo. I suffer for the truth sir: for true it is, I was taken with Iaquenetta, and Iaquenetta is a true girle, and therefore welcome the sowre cup of prosperitie, affliction may one day smile againe, and vntill then sit downe sorrow. Enter.

Enter Armado and Moth his Page.

Arma. Boy, What signe is it when a man of great spirit growes melancholy? Boy. A great signe sir, that he will looke sad

Brag. Why? sadnesse is one and the selfe-same thing deare impe

Boy. No no, O Lord sir no

Brag. How canst thou part sadnesse and melancholy my tender Iuuenall? Boy. By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough signeur

Brag. Why tough signeur? Why tough signeur? Boy. Why tender Iuuenall? Why tender Iuuenall? Brag. I spoke it tender Iuuenall, as a congruent apathaton, appertaining to thy young daies, which we may nominate tender

Boy. And I tough signeur, as an appertinent title to your olde time, which we may name tough

Brag. Pretty and apt

Boy. How meane you sir, I pretty, and my saying apt? or I apt, and my saying prettie? Brag. Thou pretty because little

Boy. Little pretty, because little: wherefore apt? Brag. And therefore apt, because quicke

Boy. Speake you this in my praise Master? Brag. In thy condigne praise

Boy. I will praise an Eele with the same praise

Brag. What? that an Eele is ingenuous

Boy. That an Eele is quicke

Brag. I doe say thou art quicke in answeres. Thou heat'st my bloud

Boy. I am answer'd sir

Brag. I loue not to be crost

Boy. He speakes the meere contrary, crosses loue not him

Br. I haue promis'd to study iij. yeres with the Duke

Boy. You may doe it in an houre sir

Brag. Impossible

Boy. How many is one thrice told? Bra. I am ill at reckning, it fits the spirit of a Tapster

Boy. You are a gentleman and a gamester sir

Brag. I confesse both, they are both the varnish of a compleat man

Boy. Then I am sure you know how much the grosse summe of deus-ace amounts to

Brag. It doth amount to one more then two

Boy. Which the base vulgar call three

Br. True

Boy. Why sir is this such a peece of study? Now here's three studied, ere you'll thrice wink, & how easie it is to put yeres to the word three, and study three yeeres in two words, the dancing horse will tell you

Brag. A most fine Figure

Boy. To proue you a Cypher

Brag. I will heereupon confesse I am in loue: and as it is base for a Souldier to loue; so am I in loue with a base wench. If drawing my sword against the humour of affection, would deliuer mee from the reprobate thought of it, I would take Desire prisoner, and ransome him to any French Courtier for a new deuis'd curtsie. I thinke scorne to sigh, me thinkes I should out-sweare Cupid. Comfort me Boy, What great men haue beene in loue? Boy. Hercules Master

Brag. Most sweete Hercules: more authority deare Boy, name more; and sweet my childe let them be men of good repute and carriage

Boy. Sampson Master, he was a man of good carriage, great carriage: for hee carried the Towne-gates on his backe like a Porter: and he was in loue

Brag. O well-knit Sampson, strong ioynted Sampson; I doe excell thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst mee in carrying gates. I am in loue too. Who was Sampsons loue my deare Moth? Boy. A Woman, Master

Brag. Of what complexion? Boy. Of all the foure, or the three, or the two, or one of the foure

Brag. Tell me precisely of what complexion? Boy. Of the sea-water Greene sir

Brag. Is that one of the foure complexions? Boy. As I haue read sir, and the best of them too

Brag. Greene indeed is the colour of Louers: but to haue a Loue of that colour, methinkes Sampson had small reason for it. He surely affected her for her wit

Boy. It was so sir, for she had a greene wit

Brag. My Loue is most immaculate white and red

Boy. Most immaculate thoughts Master, are mask'd vnder such colours

Brag. Define, define, well educated infant

Boy. My fathers witte, and my mothers tongue assist mee

Brag. Sweet inuocation of a childe, most pretty and patheticall

Boy. If shee be made of white and red, Her faults will nere be knowne: For blushin cheekes by faults are bred, And feares by pale white showne: Then if she feare, or be to blame, By this you shall not know, For still her cheekes possesse the same, Which natiue she doth owe: A dangerous rime master against the reason of white and redde

Brag. Is there not a ballet Boy, of the King and the Begger? Boy. The world was very guilty of such a Ballet some three ages since, but I thinke now 'tis not to be found: or if it were, it would neither serue for the writing, nor the tune

Brag. I will haue that subiect newly writ ore, that I may example my digression by some mighty president. Boy, I doe loue that Countrey girle that I tooke in the Parke with the rationall hinde Costard: she deserues well

Boy. To bee whip'd: and yet a better loue then my Master

Brag. Sing Boy, my spirit grows heauy in loue

Boy. And that's great maruell, louing a light wench

Brag. I say sing

Boy. Forbeare till this company be past. Enter Clowne, Constable, and Wench.

Const. Sir, the Dukes pleasure, is that you keepe Costard safe, and you must let him take no delight, nor no penance, but hee must fast three daies a weeke: for this Damsell, I must keepe her at the Parke, shee is alowd for the Day-woman. Fare you well. Enter.

Brag. I do betray my selfe with blushing: Maide

Maid. Man

Brag. I wil visit thee at the Lodge

Maid. That's here by

Brag. I know where it is situate

Mai. Lord how wise you are! Brag. I will tell thee wonders

Ma. With what face? Brag. I loue thee

Mai. So I heard you say

Brag. And so farewell

Mai. Faire weather after you

Clo. Come Iaquenetta, away.

Exeunt.

Brag. Villaine, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere thou be pardoned

Clo. Well sir, I hope when I doe it, I shall doe it on a full stomacke

Brag. Thou shalt be heauily punished

Clo. I am more bound to you then your fellowes, for they are but lightly rewarded

Clo. Take away this villaine, shut him vp

Boy. Come you transgressing slaue, away

Clow. Let mee not bee pent vp sir, I will fast being loose

Boy. No sir, that were fast and loose: thou shalt to prison

Clow. Well, if euer I do see the merry dayes of desolation that I haue seene, some shall see

Boy. What shall some see? Clow. Nay nothing, Master Moth, but what they looke vpon. It is not for prisoners to be silent in their words, and therefore I will say nothing: I thanke God, I haue as little patience as another man, and therefore I can be quiet. Enter.

Brag. I doe affect the very ground (which is base) where her shooe (which is baser) guided by her foote (which is basest) doth tread. I shall be forsworn (which is a great argument of falshood) if I loue. And how can that be true loue, which is falsly attempted? Loue is a familiar, Loue is a Diuell. There is no euill Angell but Loue, yet Sampson was so tempted, and he had an excellent strength: Yet was Salomon so seduced, and hee had a very good witte. Cupids Butshaft is too hard for Hercules Clubbe, and therefore too much ods for a Spaniards Rapier: The first and second cause will not serue my turne: the Passado hee respects not, the Duello he regards not; his disgrace is to be called Boy, but his glorie is to subdue men. Adue Valour, rust Rapier, bee still Drum, for your manager is in loue; yea hee loueth. Assist me some extemporall god of Rime, for I am sure I shall turne Sonnet. Deuise Wit, write Pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio.

Enter.

Finis Actus Primus.

Actus Secunda.

Enter the Princesse of France, with three attending Ladies, and three Lords

Boyet. Now Madam summon vp your dearest spirits, Consider who the King your father sends: To whom he sends, and what's his Embassie. Your selfe, held precious in the worlds esteeme, To parlee with the sole inheritour Of all perfections that a man may owe, Matchlesse Nauarre, the plea of no lesse weight Then Aquitaine, a Dowrie for a Queene, Be now as prodigall of all deare grace, As Nature was in making Graces deare, When she did starue the generall world beside, And prodigally gaue them all to you

Queen. Good L[ord]. Boyet, my beauty though but mean, Needs not the painted flourish of your praise: Beauty is bought by iudgement of the eye, Not vttred by base sale of chapmens tongues: I am lesse proud to heare you tell my worth, Then you much willing to be counted wise, In spending your wit in the praise of mine. But now to taske the tasker, good Boyet

Prin. You are not ignorant all-telling fame Doth noyse abroad Nauar hath made a vow, Till painefull studie shall out-weare three yeares, No woman may approach his silent Court: Therefore to's seemeth it a needfull course, Before we enter his forbidden gates, To know his pleasure, and in that behalfe Bold of your worthinesse, we single you, As our best mouing faire soliciter: Tell him, the daughter of the King of France, On serious businesse crauing quicke dispatch, Importunes personall conference with his grace. Haste, signifie so much while we attend, Like humble visag'd suters his high will

Boy. Proud of imployment, willingly I goe. Enter.

Prin. All pride is willing pride, and yours is so: Who are the Votaries my Louing Lords, that are vow-fellowes with this vertuous Duke? Lor. Longauill is one

Princ. Know you the man? 1 Lady. I know him Madame at a marriage feast, Betweene L[ord]. Perigort and the beautious heire Of Iaques Fauconbridge solemnized. In Normandie saw I this Longauill, A man of soueraigne parts he is esteem'd: Well fitted in Arts, glorious in Armes: Nothing becomes him ill that he would well. The onely soyle of his faire vertues glosse, If vertues glosse will staine with any soile, Is a sharp wit match'd with too blunt a Will: Whose edge hath power to cut whose will still wills, It should none spare that come within his power

Prin. Some merry mocking Lord belike, ist so? Lad.1. They say so most, that most his humors know

Prin. such short liu'd wits do wither as they grow. Who are the rest? 2.Lad. The yong Dumaine, a well accomplisht youth, Of all that Vertue loue, for Vertue loued. Most power to doe most harme, least knowing ill: For he hath wit to make an ill shape good, And shape to win grace though she had no wit. I saw him at the Duke Alansoes once, And much too little of that good I saw, Is my report to his great worthinesse

Rossa. Another of these Students at that time, Was there with him, as I haue heard a truth. Berowne they call him, but a merrier man, Within the limit of becomming mirth, I neuer spent an houres talke withall. His eye begets occasion for his wit, For euery obiect that the one doth catch, The other turnes to a mirth-mouing iest. Which his faire tongue (conceits expositor) Deliuers in such apt and gracious words, That aged eares play treuant at his tales, And yonger hearings are quite rauished. So sweet and voluble is his discourse

Prin. God blesse my Ladies, are they all in loue? That euery one her owne hath garnished, With such bedecking ornaments of praise

Ma. Heere comes Boyet. Enter Boyet.

Prin. Now, what admittance Lord? Boyet. Nauar had notice of your faire approach; And he and his competitors in oath, Were all addrest to meete you gentle Lady Before I came: Marrie thus much I haue learnt, He rather meanes to lodge you in the field, Like one that comes heere to besiege his Court, Then seeke a dispensation for his oath: To let you enter his vnpeopled house. Enter Nauar, Longauill, Dumaine, and Berowne.

Heere comes Nauar

Nau. Faire Princesse, welcom to the Court of Nauar

Prin. Faire I giue you backe againe, and welcome I haue not yet: the roofe of this Court is too high to bee yours, and welcome to the wide fields, too base to be mine

Nau. You shall be welcome Madam to my Court

Prin. I wil be welcome then, Conduct me thither

Nau. Heare me deare Lady, I haue sworne an oath

Prin. Our Lady helpe my Lord, he'll be forsworne

Nau. Not for the world faire Madam, by my will

Prin. Why, will shall breake it will, and nothing els

Nau. Your Ladiship is ignorant what it is

Prin. Were my Lord so, his ignorance were wise, Where now his knowledge must proue ignorance. I heare your grace hath sworne out House-keeping: 'Tis deadly sinne to keepe that oath my Lord, And sinne to breake it: But pardon me, I am too sodaine bold, To teach a Teacher ill beseemeth me. Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my comming, And sodainly resolue me in my suite

Nau. Madam, I will, if sodainly I may

Prin. You will the sooner that I were away, For you'll proue periur'd if you make me stay

Berow. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once? Rosa. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once? Ber. I know you did

Rosa. How needlesse was it then to ask the question? Ber. You must not be so quicke

Rosa. 'Tis long of you y spur me with such questions

Ber. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire

Rosa. Not till it leaue the Rider in the mire

Ber. What time a day? Rosa. The howre that fooles should aske

Ber. Now faire befall your maske

Rosa. Faire fall the face it couers

Ber. And send you many louers

Rosa. Amen, so you be none

Ber. Nay then will I be gone

Kin. Madame, your father heere doth intimate, The paiment of a hundred thousand Crownes, Being but th' one halfe, of an intire summe, Disbursed by my father in his warres. But say that he, or we, as neither haue Receiu'd that summe; yet there remaines vnpaid A hundred thousand more: in surety of the which, One part of Aquitaine is bound to vs, Although not valued to the moneys worth. If then the King your father will restore But that one halfe which is vnsatisfied, We will giue vp our right in Aquitaine, And hold faire friendship with his Maiestie: But that it seemes he little purposeth, For here he doth demand to haue repaie, An hundred thousand Crownes, and not demands One paiment of a hundred thousand Crownes, To haue his title liue in Aquitaine. Which we much rather had depart withall, And haue the money by our father lent, Then Aquitane, so guelded as it is. Deare Princesse, were not his requests so farre From reasons yeelding, your faire selfe should make A yeelding 'gainst some reason in my brest, And goe well satisfied to France againe

Prin. You doe the King my Father too much wrong, And wrong the reputation of your name, In so vnseeming to confesse receyt Of that which hath so faithfully beene paid

Kin. I doe protest I neuer heard of it, And if you proue it, Ile repay it backe, Or yeeld vp Aquitaine

Prin. We arrest your word: Boyet, you can produce acquittances For such a summe, from speciall Officers, Of Charles his Father

Kin. Satisfie me so

Boyet. So please your Grace, the packet is not come Where that and other specialties are bound, To morrow you shall haue a sight of them

Kin. It shall suffice me; at which enterview, All liberall reason would I yeeld vnto: Meane time, receiue such welcome at my hand, As honour, without breach of Honour may Make tender of, to thy true worthinesse. You may not come faire Princesse in my gates, But heere without you shall be so receiu'd, As you shall deeme your selfe lodg'd in my heart, Though so deni'd farther harbour in my house: Your owne good thoughts excuse me, and farewell, To morrow we shall visit you againe

Prin. Sweet health & faire desires consort your grace

Kin. Thy own wish wish I thee, in euery place. Enter.

Boy. Lady, I will commend you to my owne heart

La.Ro. Pray you doe my commendations, I would be glad to see it

Boy. I would you heard it grone

La.Ro. Is the soule sicke? Boy. Sicke at the heart

La.Ro. Alacke, let it bloud

Boy. Would that doe it good? La.Ro. My Phisicke saies I

Boy. Will you prick't with your eye

La.Ro. No poynt, with my knife

Boy. Now God saue thy life

La.Ro. And yours from long liuing

Ber. I cannot stay thanks-giuing. Enter.

Enter Dumane.

Dum. Sir, I pray you a word: What Lady is that same? Boy. The heire of Alanson, Rosalin her name

Dum. A gallant Lady, Mounsier fare you well

Long. I beseech you a word: what is she in the white? Boy. A woman somtimes, if you saw her in the light

Long. Perchance light in the light: I desire her name

Boy. Shee hath but one for her selfe, To desire that were a shame

Long. Pray you sir, whose daughter? Boy. Her Mothers, I haue heard

Long. Gods blessing a your beard

Boy. Good sir be not offended, Shee is an heyre of Faulconbridge

Long. Nay, my choller is ended: Shee is a most sweet Lady.

Exit. Long.

Boy. Not vnlike sir, that may be. Enter Beroune.

Ber. What's her name in the cap

Boy. Katherine by good hap

Ber. Is she wedded, or no

Boy. To her will sir, or so, Ber. You are welcome sir, adiew

Boy. Fare well to me sir, and welcome to you. Enter.

La.Ma. That last is Beroune, the mery mad-cap Lord. Not a word with him, but a iest

Boy. And euery iest but a word

Pri. It was well done of you to take him at his word

Boy. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to boord

La.Ma. Two hot Sheepes marie: And wherefore not Ships? Boy. No Sheepe (sweet Lamb) vnlesse we feed on your lips

La. You Sheepe & I pasture: shall that finish the iest? Boy. So you grant pasture for me

La. Not so gentle beast. My lips are no Common, though seuerall they be

Bo. Belonging to whom? La. To my fortunes and me

Prin. Good wits wil be iangling, but gentles agree. This ciuill warre of wits were much better vsed On Nauar and his bookemen, for heere 'tis abus'd

Bo. If my obseruation (which very seldome lies By the hearts still rhetoricke, disclosed with eyes) Deceiue me not now, Nauar is infected

Prin. With what? Bo. With that which we Louers intitle affected

Prin. Your reason

Bo. Why all his behauiours doe make their retire, To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire. His hart like an Agot with your print impressed, Proud with his forme, in his eie pride expressed. His tongue all impatient to speake and not see, Did stumble with haste in his eie-sight to be, All sences to that sence did make their repaire, To feele onely looking on fairest of faire: Me thought all his sences were lockt in his eye, As Iewels in Christall for some Prince to Buy. Who tendring their own worth from whence they were glast, Did point out to buy them along as you past. His faces owne margent did coate such amazes, That all eyes saw his eies inchanted with gazes. Ile giue you Aquitaine, and all that is his, And you giue him for my sake, but one louing Kisse

Prin. Come to our Pauillion, Boyet is disposde

Bro. But to speak that in words, which his eie hath disclos'd. I onelie haue made a mouth of his eie, By adding a tongue, which I know will not lie

Lad.Ro. Thou art an old Loue-monger, and speakest skilfully

Lad.Ma. He is Cupids Grandfather, and learnes news of him

Lad.2. Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim

Boy. Do you heare my mad wenches? La.1. No

Boy. What then, do you see? Lad.2. I, our way to be gone

Boy. You are too hard for me.

Exeunt. omnes.

Actus Tertius.

Enter Braggart and Boy.

Song.

Bra. Warble childe, make passionate my sense of hearing

Boy. Concolinel

Brag. Sweete Ayer, go tendernesse of yeares: take this Key, giue enlargement to the swaine, bring him festinatly hither: I must imploy him in a letter to my Loue

Boy. Will you win your loue with a French braule? Bra. How meanest thou, brauling in French? Boy. No my compleat master, but to Iigge off a tune at the tongues end, canarie to it with the feete, humour it with turning vp your eie: sigh a note and sing a note, sometime through the throate: if you swallowed loue with singing, loue sometime through: nose as if you snuft vp loue by smelling loue with your hat penthouselike ore the shop of your eies, with your armes crost on your thinbellie doublet, like a Rabbet on a spit, or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting, and keepe not too long in one tune, but a snip and away: these are complements, these are humours, these betraie nice wenches that would be betraied without these, and make them men of note: do you note men that most are affected to these? Brag. How hast thou purchased this experience? Boy. By my penne of obseruation

Brag. But O, but O

Boy. The Hobbie-horse is forgot

Bra. Cal'st thou my loue Hobbi-horse

Boy. No Master, the Hobbie-horse is but a Colt, and and your Loue perhaps, a Hacknie: but haue you forgot your Loue? Brag. Almost I had

Boy. Negligent student, learne her by heart

Brag. By heart, and in heart Boy

Boy. And out of heart Master: all those three I will proue

Brag. What wilt thou proue? Boy. A man, if I liue (and this) by, in, and without, vpon the instant: by heart you loue her, because your heart cannot come by her: in heart you loue her, because your heart is in loue with her: and out of heart you loue her, being out of heart that you cannot enioy her

Brag. I am all these three

Boy. And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all

Brag. Fetch hither the Swaine, he must carrie mee a letter

Boy. A message well simpathis'd, a Horse to be embassadour for an Asse

Brag. Ha, ha, What saiest thou? Boy. Marrie sir, you must send the Asse vpon the Horse for he is verie slow gated: but I goe

Brag. The way is but short, away

Boy. As swift as Lead sir

Brag. Thy meaning prettie ingenious, is not Lead a mettall heauie, dull, and slow? Boy. Minnime honest Master, or rather Master no

Brag. I say Lead is slow

Boy. You are too swift sir to say so. Is that Lead slow which is fir'd from a Gunne? Brag. Sweete smoke of Rhetorike, He reputes me a Cannon, and the Bullet that's he: I shoote thee at the Swaine

Boy. Thump then, and I flee

Bra. A most acute Iuuenall, voluble and free of grace, By thy fauour sweet Welkin, I must sigh in thy face. Most rude melancholie, Valour giues thee place. My Herald is return'd. Enter Page and Clowne.

Pag. A wonder Master, here's a Costard broken in a shin

Ar. Some enigma, some riddle, come, thy Lenuoy begin

Clo. No egma, no riddle, no lenuoy, no salue, in thee male sir. Or sir, Plantan, a plaine Plantan: no lenuoy, no lenuoy, no Salue sir, but a Plantan

Ar. By vertue, thou inforcest laughter, thy sillie thought, my spleene, the heauing of my lunges prouokes me to rediculous smyling: O pardon me my stars, doth the inconsiderate take salue for lenuoy, and the word lenuoy for a salue? Pag. Doe the wise thinke them other, is not lenuoy a salue? Ar. No Page, it is an epilogue or discourse to make plaine, Some obscure precedence that hath tofore bin faine. Now will I begin your morrall, and do you follow with my lenuoy. The Foxe, the Ape, and the Humble-Bee, Were still at oddes, being but three

Arm. Vntill the Goose came out of doore, Staying the oddes by adding foure

Pag. A good Lenuoy, ending in the Goose: would you desire more? Clo. The Boy hath sold him a bargaine, a Goose, that's flat. Sir, your penny-worth is good, and your Goose be fat. To sell a bargaine well is as cunning as fast and loose: Let me see a fat Lenuoy, I that's a fat Goose

Ar. Come hither, come hither: How did this argument begin? Boy. By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin. Then cal'd you for the Lenuoy

Clow. True, and I for a Plantan: Thus came your argument in: Then the Boyes fat Lenuoy, the Goose that you bought, And he ended the market

Ar. But tell me: How was there a Costard broken in a shin? Pag. I will tell you sencibly

Clow. Thou hast no feeling of it Moth, I will speake that Lenuoy. I Costard running out, that was safely within, Fell ouer the threshold, and broke my shin

Arm. We will talke no more of this matter

Clow. Till there be more matter in the shin

Arm. Sirra Costard, I will infranchise thee

Clow. O, marrie me to one Francis, I smell some Lenuoy, some Goose in this

Arm. By my sweete soule, I meane, setting thee at libertie. Enfreedoming thy person: thou wert emured, restrained, captiuated, bound

Clow. True, true, and now you will be my purgation, and let me loose

Arm. I giue thee thy libertie, set thee from durance, and in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this: Beare this significant to the countrey Maide Iaquenetta: there is remuneration, for the best ward of mine honours is rewarding my dependants. Moth, follow

Pag. Like the sequell I. Signeur Costard adew. Enter.

Clow. My sweete ounce of mans flesh, my inconie Iew: Now will I looke to his remuneration. Remuneration, O, that's the Latine word for three-farthings: Three-farthings remuneration, What's the price of this yncle? i.d. no, Ile giue you a remuneration: Why? It carries it remuneration: Why? It is a fairer name then a French-Crowne. I will neuer buy and sell out of this word. Enter Berowne.

Ber. O my good knaue Costard, exceedingly well met

Clow. Pray you sir, How much Carnation Ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration? Ber. What is a remuneration? Cost. Marrie sir, halfe pennie farthing

Ber. O, Why then threefarthings worth of Silke

Cost. I thanke your worship, God be wy you

Ber. O stay slaue, I must employ thee: As thou wilt win my fauour, good my knaue, Doe one thing for me that I shall intreate

Clow. When would you haue it done sir? Ber. O this after-noone

Clo. Well, I will doe it sir: Fare you well

Ber. O thou knowest not what it is

Clo. I shall know sir, when I haue done it

Ber. Why villaine thou must know first

Clo. I wil come to your worship to morrow morning

Ber. It must be done this after-noone, Harke slaue, it is but this: The Princesse comes to hunt here in the Parke, And in her traine there is a gentle Ladie: When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name, And Rosaline they call her, aske for her: And to her white hand see thou do commend This seal'd-vp counsaile. Ther's thy guerdon: goe

Clo. Gardon, O sweete gardon, better then remuneration, a leuenpence-farthing better: most sweete gardon. I will doe it sir in print: gardon, remuneration. Enter.

Ber. O, and I forsooth in loue, I that haue beene loues whip? A verie Beadle to a humerous sigh: A Criticke, Nay, a night-watch Constable. A domineering pedant ore the Boy, Then whom no mortall so magnificent, This wimpled, whyning, purblinde waiward Boy, This signior Iunios gyant dwarfe, don Cupid, Regent of Loue-rimes, Lord of folded armes, Th' annointed soueraigne of sighes and groanes: Liedge of all loyterers and malecontents: Dread Prince of Placcats, King of Codpeeces. Sole Emperator and great generall Of trotting Parrators (O my little heart.) And I to be a Corporall of his field, And weare his colours like a Tumblers hoope. What? I loue, I sue, I seeke a wife, A woman that is like a Germane Cloake, Still a repairing: euer out of frame, And neuer going a right, being a Watch: But being watcht, that it may still goe right. Nay, to be periurde, which is worst of all: And among three, to loue the worst of all, A whitly wanton, with a veluet brow. With two pitch bals stucke in her face for eyes. I, and by heauen, one that will doe the deede, Though Argus were her Eunuch and her garde. And I to sigh for her, to watch for her, To pray for her, go to: it is a plague That Cupid will impose for my neglect, Of his almighty dreadfull little might. Well, I will loue, write, sigh, pray, shue, grone, Some men must loue my Lady, and some Ione.

Actus Quartus.

Enter the Princesse, a Forrester, her Ladies, and her Lords.

Qu. Was that the King that spurd his horse so hard, Against the steepe vprising of the hill? Boy. I know not, but I thinke it was not he

Qu. Who ere a was, a shew'd a mounting minde: Well Lords, to day we shall haue our dispatch, On Saterday we will returne to France. Then Forrester my friend, Where is the Bush That we must stand and play the murtherer in? For. Hereby vpon the edge of yonder Coppice, A stand where you may make the fairest shoote

Qu. I thanke my beautie, I am faire that shoote, And thereupon thou speak'st the fairest shoote

For. Pardon me Madam, for I meant not so

Qu. What, what? First praise me, & then again say no. O short liu'd pride. Not faire? alacke for woe

For. Yes Madam faire

Qu. Nay, neuer paint me now, Where faire is not, praise cannot mend the brow. Here (good my glasse) take this for telling true: Faire paiment for foule words, is more then due

For. Nothing but faire is that which you inherit

Qu. See, see, my beautie will be sau'd by merit. O heresie in faire, fit for these dayes, A giuing hand, though foule, shall haue faire praise. But come, the Bow: Now Mercie goes to kill, And shooting well, is then accounted ill: Thus will I saue my credit in the shoote, Not wounding, pittie would not let me do't: If wounding, then it was to shew my skill, That more for praise, then purpose meant to kill. And out of question, so it is sometimes: Glory growes guiltie of detested crimes, When for Fames sake, for praise an outward part, We bend to that, the working of the hart. As I for praise alone now seeke to spill The poore Deeres blood, that my heart meanes no ill

Boy. Do not curst wiues hold that selfe-soueraigntie Onely for praise sake, when they striue to be Lords ore their Lords? Qu. Onely for praise, and praise we may afford, To any Lady that subdewes a Lord. Enter Clowne.

Boy. Here comes a member of the common-wealth

Clo. God dig-you-den all, pray you which is the head Lady? Qu. Thou shalt know her fellow, by the rest that haue no heads

Clo. Which is the greatest Lady, the highest? Qu. The thickest, and the tallest

Clo. The thickest, & the tallest: it is so, truth is truth. And your waste Mistris, were as slender as my wit, One a these Maides girdles for your waste should be fit. Are not you the chiefe woma[n]? You are the thickest here? Qu. What's your will sir? What's your will? Clo. I haue a Letter from Monsier Berowne, To one Lady Rosaline

Qu. O thy letter, thy letter: He's a good friend of mine. Stand a side good bearer. Boyet, you can carue, Breake vp this Capon

Boyet. I am bound to serue. This Letter is mistooke: it importeth none here: It is writ to Iaquenetta

Qu. We will read it, I sweare. Breake the necke of the Waxe, and euery one giue eare

Boyet reades. By heauen, that thou art faire, is most infallible: true that thou art beauteous, truth it selfe that thou art louely: more fairer then faire, beautifull then beautious, truer then truth it selfe: haue comiseration on thy heroicall Vassall. The magnanimous and most illustrate King Cophetua set eie vpon the pernicious and indubitate Begger Zenelophon: and he it was that might rightly say, Veni, vidi, vici: Which to annothanize in the vulgar, O base and obscure vulgar; videliset, He came, See, and ouercame: hee came one; see, two; ouercame three: Who came? the King. Why did he come? to see. Why did he see? to ouercome. To whom came he? to the Begger. What saw he? the Begger. Who ouercame he? the Begger. The conclusion is victorie: On whose side? the King: the captiue is inricht: On whose side? the Beggers. The catastrophe is a Nuptiall: on whose side? the Kings: no, on both in one, or one in both. I am the King (for so stands the comparison) thou the Begger, for so witnesseth thy lowlinesse. Shall I command thy loue? I may. Shall I enforce thy loue? I could. Shall I entreate thy loue? I will. What, shalt thou exchange for ragges, roabes: for tittles titles, for thy selfe mee. Thus expecting thy reply, I prophane my lips on thy foote, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy euerie part. Thine in the dearest designe of industrie, Don Adriana de Armatho. Thus dost thou heare the Nemean Lion roare, Gainst thee thou Lambe, that standest as his pray: Submissiue fall his princely feete before, And he from forrage will incline to play. But if thou striue (poore soule) what art thou then? Foode for his rage, repasture for his den

Qu. What plume of feathers is hee that indited this Letter? What veine? What Wethercocke? Did you euer heare better? Boy. I am much deceiued, but I remember the stile

Qu. Else your memorie is bad, going ore it erewhile

Boy. This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here in court A Phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport To the Prince and his Booke-mates

Qu. Thou fellow, a word. Who gaue thee this Letter? Clow. I told you, my Lord

Qu. To whom should'st thou giue it? Clo. From my Lord to my Lady

Qu. From which Lord, to which Lady? Clo. From my Lord Berowne, a good master of mine, To a Lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline

Qu. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come Lords away. Here sweete, put vp this, 'twill be thine another day.

Exeunt.

Boy. Who is the shooter? Who is the shooter? Rosa. Shall I teach you to know

Boy. I my continent of beautie

Rosa. Why she that beares the Bow. Finely put off

Boy. My Lady goes to kill hornes, but if thou marrie, Hang me by the necke, if hornes that yeare miscarrie. Finely put on

Rosa. Well then, I am the shooter

Boy. And who is your Deare? Rosa. If we choose by the hornes, your selfe come not neare. Finely put on indeede

Maria. You still wrangle with her Boyet, and shee strikes at the brow

Boyet. But she her selfe is hit lower: Haue I hit her now

Rosa. Shall I come vpon thee with an old saying, that was a man when King Pippin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it

Boyet. So I may answere thee with one as old that was a woman when Queene Guinouer of Brittaine was a little wench, as touching the hit it

Rosa. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it, Thou canst not hit it my good man

Boy. I cannot, cannot, cannot: And I cannot, another can. Enter.

Clo. By my troth most pleasant, how both did fit it

Mar. A marke marueilous well shot, for they both did hit

Boy. A mark, O marke but that marke: a marke saies my Lady. Let the mark haue a pricke in't, to meat at, if it may be

Mar. Wide a'th bow hand, yfaith your hand is out

Clo. Indeede a' must shoote nearer, or heele ne're hit the clout

Boy. And if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in

Clo. Then will shee get the vpshoot by cleauing the is in

Ma. Come, come, you talke greasely, your lips grow foule

Clo. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir challenge her to boule

Boy. I feare too much rubbing: good night my good Oule

Clo. By my soule a Swaine, a most simple Clowne. Lord, Lord, how the Ladies and I haue put him downe. O my troth most sweete iests, most inconie vulgar wit, When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were, so fit. Armathor ath to the side, O a most dainty man. To see him walke before a Lady, and to beare her Fan. To see him kisse his hand, and how most sweetly a will sweare: And his Page atother side, that handfull of wit, Ah heauens, it is most patheticall nit. Sowla, sowla.

Exeunt. Shoote within.

Enter Dull, Holofernes, the Pedant and Nathaniel.

Nat. Very reuerent sport truely, and done in the testimony of a good conscience

Ped. The Deare was (as you know) sanguis in blood, ripe as a Pomwater who now hangeth like a Iewell in the eare of Celo the skie; the welken the heauen, and anon falleth like a Crab on the face of Terra, the soyle, the land, the earth

Curat.Nath. Truely M[aster]. Holofernes, the epythithes are sweetly varied like a scholler at the least: but sir I assure ye, it was a Bucke of the first head

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo

Dul. 'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a Pricket

Hol. Most barbarous intimation: yet a kinde of insinuation, as it were in via, in way of explication facere: as it were replication, or rather ostentare, to show as it were his inclination after his vndressed, vnpolished, vneducated, vnpruned, vntrained, or rather vnlettered, or ratherest vnconfirmed fashion, to insert againe my haud credo for a Deare

Dul. I said the Deare was not a haud credo, 'twas a Pricket

Hol. Twice sod simplicitie, bis coctus, O thou monster Ignorance, how deformed doost thou looke

Nath. Sir hee hath neuer fed of the dainties that are bred in a booke. He hath not eate paper as it were: He hath not drunke inke. His intellect is not replenished, hee is onely an animall, onely sensible in the duller parts: and such barren plants are set before vs, that we thankfull should be: which we taste and feeling, are for those parts that doe fructifie in vs more then he. For as it would ill become me to be vaine, indiscreet, or a foole; So were there a patch set on Learning, to see him in a Schoole. But omne bene say I, being of an old Fathers minde, Many can brooke the weather, that loue not the winde

Dul. You two are book-men: Can you tell by your wit, What was a month old at Cains birth, that's not fiue weekes old as yet? Hol. Dictisima goodman Dull, dictisima goodman Dull

Dul. What is dictima? Nath. A title to Phebe, to Luna, to the Moone

Hol. The Moone was a month old when Adam was no more. And wrought not to fiue-weekes when he came to fiuescore. Th' allusion holds in the Exchange

Dul. 'Tis true indeede, the Collusion holds in the Exchange

Hol. God comfort thy capacity, I say th' allusion holds in the Exchange

Dul. And I say the polusion holds in the Exchange: for the Moone is neuer but a month old: and I say beside that, 'twas a Pricket that the Princesse kill'd

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you heare an extemporall Epytaph on the death of the Deare, and to humour the ignorant call'd the Deare, the Princesse kill'd a Pricket

Nath. Perge, good M[aster]. Holofernes, perge, so it shall please you to abrogate scurilitie

Hol. I will something affect a letter, for it argues facilitie. The prayfull Princesse pearst and prickt a prettie pleasing Pricket, Some say a Sore, but not a sore, till now made sore with shooting. The Dogges did yell, put ell to Sore, then Sorrell iumps from thicket: Or Pricket-sore, or else Sorell, the people fall a hooting. If Sore be sore, than ell to Sore, makes fiftie sores O sorell: Of one sore I an hundred make by adding but one more L

Nath. A rare talent

Dul. If a talent be a claw, looke how he clawes him with a talent

Nath. This is a gift that I haue simple: simple, a foolish extrauagant spirit, full of formes, figures, shapes, obiects, Ideas, apprehensions, motions, reuolutions. These are begot in the ventricle of memorie, nourisht in the wombe of primater, and deliuered vpon the mellowing of occasion: but the gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am thankfull for it

Hol. Sir, I praise the Lord for you, and so may my parishioners, for their Sonnes are well tutor'd by you, and their Daughters profit very greatly vnder you: you are a good member of the common-wealth

Nath. Me hercle, If their Sonnes be ingenuous, they shall want no instruction: If their Daughters be capable, I will put it to them. But Vir sapis qui pauca loquitur, a soule Feminine saluteth vs. Enter Iaquenetta and the Clowne.

Iaqu. God giue you good morrow M[aster]. Person

Nath. Master Person, quasi Person? And if one should be perst, Which is the one? Clo. Marry M[aster]. Schoolemaster, hee that is likest to a hogshead

Nath. Of persing a Hogshead, a good luster of conceit in a turph of Earth, Fire enough for a Flint, Pearle enough for a Swine: 'tis prettie, it is well

Iaqu. Good Master Parson be so good as reade mee this Letter, it was giuen mee by Costard, and sent mee from Don Armatho: I beseech you read it

Nath. Facile precor gellida, quando pecas omnia sub vmbra ruminat, and so forth. Ah good old Mantuan, I may speake of thee as the traueiler doth of Venice, vemchie, vencha, que non te vnde, que non te perreche. Old Mantuan, old Mantuan. Who vnderstandeth thee not, vt re sol la mi fa: Vnder pardon sir, What are the contents? or rather as Horrace sayes in his, What my soule verses

Hol. I sir, and very learned

Nath. Let me heare a staffe, a stanze, a verse, Lege domine. If Loue make me forsworne, how shall I sweare to loue? Ah neuer faith could hold, if not to beautie vowed. Though to my selfe forsworn, to thee Ile faithfull proue. Those thoughts to mee were Okes, to thee like Osiers bowed. Studie his byas leaues, and makes his booke thine eyes. Where all those pleasures liue, that Art would comprehend. If knowledge be the marke, to know thee shall suffice. Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee co[m]mend. All ignorant that soule, that sees thee without wonder. Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire; Thy eye Ioues lightning beares, thy voyce his dreadfull thunder. Which not to anger bent, is musique, and sweete fire. Celestiall as thou art, Oh pardon loue this wrong, That sings heauens praise, with such an earthly tongue

Ped. You finde not the apostraphas, and so misse the accent. Let me superuise the cangenet

Nath. Here are onely numbers ratified, but for the elegancy, facility, & golden cadence of poesie caret: Ouiddius Naso was the man. And why in deed Naso, but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy? the ierkes of inuention imitarie is nothing: So doth the Hound his master, the Ape his keeper, the tyred Horse his rider: But Damosella virgin, Was this directed to you? Iaq. I sir from one mounsier Berowne, one of the strange Queenes Lords

Nath. I will ouerglance the superscript. To the snow-white hand of the most beautious Lady Rosaline. I will looke againe on the intellect of the Letter, for the nomination of the partie written to the person written vnto. Your Ladiships in all desired imployment, Berowne

Ped. Sir Holofernes, this Berowne is one of the Votaries with the King, and here he hath framed a Letter to a sequent of the stranger Queens: which accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath miscarried. Trip and goe my sweete, deliuer this Paper into the hand of the King, it may concerne much: stay not thy complement, I forgiue thy duetie, adue

Maid. Good Costard go with me: Sir God saue your life

Cost. Haue with thee my girle. Enter.

Hol. Sir you haue done this in the feare of God very religiously: and as a certaine Father saith Ped. Sir tell not me of the Father, I do feare colourable colours. But to returne to the Verses, Did they please you sir Nathaniel? Nath. Marueilous well for the pen

Peda. I do dine to day at the fathers of a certaine Pupill of mine, where if (being repast) it shall please you to gratifie the table with a Grace, I will on my priuiledge I haue with the parents of the foresaid Childe or Pupill, vndertake your bien venuto, where I will proue those Verses to be very vnlearned, neither sauouring of Poetrie, Wit, nor Inuention. I beseech your Societie

Nat. And thanke you to: for societie (saith the text) is the happinesse of life

Peda. And certes the text most infallibly concludes it. Sir I do inuite you too, you shall not say me nay: pauca verba. Away, the gentles are at their game, and we will to our recreation.

Exeunt.

Enter Berowne with a Paper in his hand, alone.

Bero. The King he is hunting the Deare, I am coursing my selfe. They haue pitcht a Toyle, I am toyling in a pytch, pitch that defiles; defile, a foule word: Well, set thee downe sorrow; for so they say the foole said, and so say I, and I the foole: Well proued wit. By the Lord this Loue is as mad as Aiax, it kils sheepe, it kils mee, I a sheepe: Well proued againe a my side. I will not loue; if I do hang me: yfaith I will not. O but her eye: by this light, but for her eye, I would not loue her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I doe nothing in the world but lye, and lye in my throate. By heauen I doe loue, and it hath taught mee to Rime, and to be mallicholie: and here is part of my Rime, and heere my mallicholie. Well, she hath one a'my Sonnets already, the Clowne bore it, the Foole sent it, and the Lady hath it: sweet Clowne, sweeter Foole, sweetest Lady. By the world, I would not care a pin, if the other three were in. Here comes one with a paper, God giue him grace to grone.

He stands aside. The King entreth.

Kin. Ay mee! Ber. Shot by heauen: proceede sweet Cupid, thou hast thumpt him with thy Birdbolt vnder the left pap: in faith secrets

King. So sweete a kisse the golden Sunne giues not, To those fresh morning drops vpon the Rose, As thy eye beames, when their fresh rayse haue smot. The night of dew that on my cheekes downe flowes. Nor shines the siluer Moone one halfe so bright, Through the transparent bosome of the deepe, As doth thy face through teares of mine giue light: Thou shin'st in euery teare that I doe weepe, No drop, but as a Coach doth carry thee: So ridest thou triumphing in my woe. Do but behold the teares that swell in me, And they thy glory through my griefe will show: But doe not loue thy selfe, then thou wilt keepe My teares for glasses, and still make me weepe. O Queene of Queenes, how farre dost thou excell, No thought can thinke, nor tongue of mortall tell. How shall she know my griefes? Ile drop the paper. Sweete leaues shade folly. Who is he comes heere? Enter Longauile. The King steps aside.

What Longauill, and reading: listen eare

Ber. Now in thy likenesse, one more foole appeare

Long. Ay me, I am forsworne

Ber. Why he comes in like a periure, wearing papers

Long. In loue I hope, sweet fellowship in shame

Ber. One drunkard loues another of the name

Lon. Am I the first y haue been periur'd so? Ber. I could put thee in comfort, not by two that I know, Thou makest the triumphery, the corner cap of societie, The shape of Loues Tiburne, that hangs vp simplicitie

Lon. I feare these stubborn lines lack power to moue. O sweet Maria, Empresse of my Loue, These numbers will I teare, and write in prose

Ber. O Rimes are gards on wanton Cupids hose, Disfigure not his Shop

Lon. This same shall goe.

He reades the Sonnet.

Did not the heauenly Rhetoricke of thine eye, 'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument, Perswade my heart to this false periurie? Vowes for thee broke deserue not punishment. A Woman I forswore, but I will proue, Thou being a Goddesse, I forswore not thee. My Vow was earthly, thou a heauenly Loue. Thy grace being gain'd, cures all disgrace in me. Vowes are but breath, and breath a vapour is. Then thou faire Sun, which on my earth doest shine, Exhalest this vapor-vow, in thee it is: If broken then, it is no fault of mine: If by me broke, What foole is not so wise, To loose an oath, to win a Paradise? Ber. This is the liuer veine, which makes flesh a deity. A greene Goose, a Goddesse, pure pure Idolatry. God amend vs, God amend, we are much out o'th' way. Enter Dumaine.

Lon. By whom shall I send this (company?) Stay

Bero. All hid, all hid, an old infant play, Like a demie God, here sit I in the skie, And wretched fooles secrets heedfully ore-eye. More Sacks to the myll. O heauens I haue my wish, Dumaine transform'd, foure Woodcocks in a dish

Dum. O most diuine Kate

Bero. O most prophane coxcombe

Dum. By heauen the wonder of a mortall eye

Bero. By earth she is not, corporall, there you lye

Dum. Her Amber haires for foule hath amber coted

Ber. An Amber coloured Rauen was well noted

Dum. As vpright as the Cedar

Ber. Stoope I say, her shoulder is with-child

Dum. As faire as day

Ber. I as some daies, but then no sunne must shine

Dum. O that I had my wish? Lon. And I had mine

Kin. And mine too good Lord

Ber. Amen, so I had mine: Is not that a good word? Dum. I would forget her, but a Feuer she Raignes in my bloud, and will remembred be

Ber. A Feuer in your bloud, why then incision Would let her out in Sawcers, sweet misprision

Dum. Once more Ile read the Ode that I haue writ

Ber. Once more Ile marke how Loue can varry Wit.

Dumane reades his Sonnet.

On a day, alack the day: Loue, whose Month is euery May, Spied a blossome passing faire, Playing in the wanton ayre: Through the Veluet, leaues the winde, All vnseene, can passage finde. That the Louer sicke to death, Wish himselfe the heauens breath. Ayre (quoth he) thy cheekes may blowe, Ayre, would I might triumph so. But alacke my hand is sworne, Nere to plucke thee from thy throne: Vow alacke for youth vnmeete, youth so apt to plucke a sweet. Doe not call it sinne in me, That I am forsworne for thee. Thou for whom Ioue would sweare, Iuno but an aethiop were, And denie himselfe for Ioue. Turning mortall for thy Loue. This will I send, and something else more plaine. That shall expresse my true-loues fasting paine. O would the King, Berowne and Longauill, Were Louers too, ill to example ill, Would from my forehead wipe a periur'd note: For none offend, where all alike doe dote

Lon. Dumaine, thy Loue is farre from charitie, That in Loues griefe desir'st societie: You may looke pale, but I should blush I know, To be ore-heard, and taken napping so

Kin. Come sir, you blush: as his, your case is such, You chide at him, offending twice as much. You doe not loue Maria? Longauile, Did neuer Sonnet for her sake compile; Nor neuer lay his wreathed armes athwart His louing bosome, to keepe downe his heart. I haue beene closely shrowded in this bush, And markt you both, and for you both did blush. I heard your guilty Rimes, obseru'd your fashion: Saw sighes reeke from you, noted well your passion. Aye me, sayes one! O Ioue, the other cries! On her haires were Gold, Christall the others eyes. You would for Paradise breake Faith and troth, And Ioue for your Loue would infringe an oath. What will Berowne say when that he shall heare Faith infringed, which such zeale did sweare. How will he scorne? how will he spend his wit? How will he triumph, leape, and laugh at it? For all the wealth that euer I did see, I would not haue him know so much by me

Bero. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisie. Ah good my Liedge, I pray thee pardon me. Good heart, What grace hast thou thus to reproue These wormes for louing, that art most in loue? Your eyes doe make no couches in your teares. There is no certaine Princesse that appeares. You'll not be periur'd, 'tis a hatefull thing: Tush, none but Minstrels like of Sonnetting. But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not All three of you, to be thus much ore'shot? You found his Moth, the King your Moth did see: But I a Beame doe finde in each of three. O what a Scene of fool'ry haue I seene. Of sighes, of grones, of sorrow, and of teene: O me, with what strict patience haue I sat, To see a King transformed to a Gnat? To see great Hercules whipping a Gigge, And profound Salomon tuning a Iygge? And Nestor play at push-pin with the boyes, And Critticke Tymon laugh at idle toyes. Where lies thy griefe? O tell me good Dumaine; And gentle Longauill, where lies thy paine? And where my Liedges? all about the brest: A Candle hoa! Kin. Too bitter is thy iest. Are wee betrayed thus to thy ouer-view? Ber. Not you by me, but I betrayed to you. I that am honest, I that hold it sinne To breake the vow I am ingaged in. I am betrayed by keeping company With men, like men of inconstancie. When shall you see me write a thing in rime? Or grone for Ioane? or spend a minutes time, In pruning mee, when shall you heare that I will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye: a gate, a state, a brow, a brest, a waste, a legge, a limme

Kin. Soft, Whither away so fast? A true man, or a theefe, that gallops so

Ber. I post from Loue, good Louer let me go. Enter Iaquenetta and Clowne.

Iaqu. God blesse the King

Kin. What Present hast thou there? Clo. Some certaine treason

Kin. What makes treason heere? Clo. Nay it makes nothing sir

Kin. If it marre nothing neither, The treason and you goe in peace away together

Iaqu. I beseech your Grace let this Letter be read, Our person mis-doubts it: it was treason he said

Kin. Berowne, read it ouer.

He reades the Letter.

Kin. Where hadst thou it? Iaqu. Of Costard

King. Where hadst thou it? Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio

Kin. How now, what is in you? why dost thou tear it? Ber. A toy my Liedge, a toy: your grace needes not feare it

Long. It did moue him to passion, and therefore let's heare it

Dum. It is Berowns writing, and heere is his name

Ber. Ah you whoreson loggerhead, you were borne to doe me shame. Guilty my Lord, guilty: I confesse, I confesse

Kin. What? Ber. That you three fooles, lackt mee foole, to make vp the messe. He, he, and you: and you my Liedge, and I, Are picke-purses in Loue, and we deserue to die. O dismisse this audience, and I shall tell you more

Dum. Now the number is euen

Berow. True true, we are fowre: will these Turtles be gone? Kin. Hence sirs, away

Clo. Walk aside the true folke, & let the traytors stay

Ber. Sweet Lords, sweet Louers, O let vs imbrace, As true we are as flesh and bloud can be, The Sea will ebbe and flow, heauen will shew his face: Young bloud doth not obey an old decree. We cannot crosse the cause why we are borne: Therefore of all hands must we be forsworne

King. What, did these rent lines shew some loue of thine? Ber. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heauenly Rosaline, That (like a rude and sauage man of Inde.) At the first opening of the gorgeous East, Bowes not his vassall head, and strooken blinde, Kisses the base ground with obedient breast? What peremptory Eagle-sighted eye Dares looke vpon the heauen of her brow, That is not blinded by her maiestie? Kin. What zeale, what furie, hath inspir'd thee now? My Loue (her Mistres) is a gracious Moone, Shee (an attending Starre) scarce seene a light

Ber. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Berowne. O, but for my Loue, day would turne to night, Of all complexions the cul'd soueraignty, Doe meet as at a faire in her faire cheeke, Where seuerall Worthies make one dignity, Where nothing wants, that want it selfe doth seeke. Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues, Fie painted Rethoricke, O she needs it not, To things of sale, a sellers praise belongs: She passes prayse, then prayse too short doth blot. A withered Hermite, fiuescore winters worne, Might shake off fiftie, looking in her eye: Beauty doth varnish Age, as if new borne, And giues the Crutch the Cradles infancie. O 'tis the Sunne that maketh all things shine

King. By heauen, thy Loue is blacke as Ebonie

Berow. Is Ebonie like her? O word diuine? A wife of such wood were felicite. O who can giue an oth? Where is a booke? That I may sweare Beauty doth beauty lacke, If that she learne not of her eye to looke: No face is faire that is not full so blacke

Kin. O paradoxe, Blacke is the badge of hell, The hue of dungeons, and the Schoole of night: And beauties crest becomes the heauens well

Ber. Diuels soonest tempt resembling spirits of light. O if in blacke my Ladies browes be deckt, It mournes, that painting vsurping haire Should rauish doters with a false aspect: And therfore is she borne to make blacke, faire. Her fauour turnes the fashion of the dayes, For natiue bloud is counted painting now: And therefore red that would auoyd dispraise, Paints it selfe blacke, to imitate her brow

Dum. To look like her are Chimny-sweepers blacke

Lon. And since her time, are Colliers counted bright

King. And Aethiops of their sweet complexion crake

Dum. Dark needs no Candles now, for dark is light

Ber. Your mistresses dare neuer come in raine, For feare their colours should be washt away

Kin. 'Twere good yours did: for sir to tell you plaine, Ile finde a fairer face not washt to day

Ber. Ile proue her faire, or talke till dooms-day here

Kin. No Diuell will fright thee then so much as shee

Duma. I neuer knew man hold vile stuffe so deere

Lon. Looke, heer's thy loue, my foot and her face see

Ber. O if the streets were paued with thine eyes, Her feet were much too dainty for such tread

Duma. O vile, then as she goes what vpward lyes? The street should see as she walk'd ouer head

Kin. But what of this, are we not all in loue? Ber. O nothing so sure, and thereby all forsworne

Kin. Then leaue this chat, & good Berown now proue Our louing lawfull, and our fayth not torne

Dum. I marie there, some flattery for this euill

Long. O some authority how to proceed, Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the diuell

Dum. Some salue for periurie, Ber. O 'tis more then neede. Haue at you then affections men at armes, Consider what you first did sweare vnto: To fast, to study, and to see no woman: Flat treason against the Kingly state of youth. Say, Can you fast? your stomacks are too young: And abstinence ingenders maladies. And where that you haue vow'd to studie (Lords) In that each of you haue forsworne his Booke. Can you still dreame and pore, and thereon looke. For when would you my Lord, or you, or you, Haue found the ground of studies excellence, Without the beauty of a womans face; From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue, They are the Ground, the Bookes, the Achadems, From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire. Why, vniuersall plodding poysons vp The nimble spirits in the arteries, As motion and long during action tyres The sinnowy vigour of the trauailer. Now for not looking on a womans face, You haue in that forsworne the vse of eyes: And studie too, the causer of your vow. For where is any Author in the world, Teaches such beauty as a womans eye: Learning is but an adiunct to our selfe, And where we are, our Learning likewise is. Then when our selues we see in Ladies eyes, With our selues. Doe we not likewise see our learning there? O we haue made a Vow to studie, Lords, And in that vow we haue forsworne our Bookes: For when would you (my Leege) or you, or you? In leaden contemplation haue found out Such fiery Numbers as the prompting eyes, Of beauties tutors haue inrich'd you with: Other slow Arts intirely keepe the braine: And therefore finding barraine practizers, Scarce shew a haruest of their heauy toyle. But Loue first learned in a Ladies eyes, Liues not alone emured in the braine: But with the motion of all elements, Courses as swift as thought in euery power, And giues to euery power a double power, Aboue their functions and their offices. It addes a precious seeing to the eye: A Louers eyes will gaze an Eagle blinde. A Louers eare will heare the lowest sound. When the suspicious head of theft is stopt. Loues feeling is more soft and sensible, Then are the tender hornes of Cockle Snayles. Loues tongue proues dainty, Bachus grosse in taste, For Valour, is not Loue a Hercules? Still climing trees in the Hesperides. Subtill as Sphinx, as sweet and musicall, As bright Apollo's Lute, strung with his haire. And when Loue speakes, the voyce of all the Gods, Make heauen drowsie with the harmonie. Neuer durst Poet touch a pen to write, Vntill his Inke were tempred with Loues sighes: O then his lines would rauish sauage eares, And plant in Tyrants milde humilitie. From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue. They sparcle still the right promethean fire, They are the Bookes, the Arts, the Achademes, That shew, containe, and nourish all the world. Else none at all in ought proues excellent. Then fooles you were these women to forsweare: Or keeping what is sworne, you will proue fooles, For Wisedomes sake, a word that all men loue: Or for Loues sake, a word that loues all men. Or for Mens sake, the author of these Women: Or Womens sake, by whom we men are Men. Let's once loose our oathes to finde our selues, Or else we loose our selues, to keepe our oathes: It is religion to be thus forsworne. For Charity it selfe fulfills the Law: And who can seuer loue from Charity

Kin. Saint Cupid then, and Souldiers to the field

Ber. Aduance your standards, & vpon them Lords, Pell, mell, downe with them: but be first aduis'd, In conflict that you get the Sunne of them

Long. Now to plaine dealing, Lay these glozes by, Shall we resolue to woe these girles of France? Kin. And winne them too, therefore let vs deuise, Some entertainment for them in their Tents

Ber. First from the Park let vs conduct them thither, Then homeward euery man attach the hand Of his faire Mistresse, in the afternoone We will with some strange pastime solace them: Such as the shortnesse of the time can shape, For Reuels, Dances, Maskes, and merry houres, Fore-runne faire Loue, strewing her way with flowres

Kin. Away, away, no time shall be omitted, That will be time, and may by vs be fitted

Ber. Alone, alone sowed Cockell, reap'd no Corne, And Iustice alwaies whirles in equall measure: Light Wenches may proue plagues to men forsworne, If so, our Copper buyes no better treasure.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus.

Enter the Pedant, Curate and Dull.

Pedant. Satis quid sufficit

Curat. I praise God for you sir, your reasons at dinner haue beene sharpe & sententious: pleasant without scurrillity, witty without affection, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and strange without heresie: I did conuerse this quondam day with a companion of the Kings, who is intituled, nominated, or called, Don Adriano de Armatho

Ped. Noui hominum tanquam te, His humour is lofty, his discourse peremptorie: his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gate maiesticall, and his generall behauiour vaine, ridiculous, and thrasonicall. He is too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odde, as it were, too peregrinat, as I may call it

Curat. A most singular and choise Epithat,

Draw out his Table-booke.

Peda. He draweth out the thred of his verbositie, finer then the staple of his argument. I abhor such phanaticall phantasims, such insociable and poynt deuise companions, such rackers of ortagriphie, as to speake dout fine, when he should say doubt; det, when he shold pronounce debt; debt, not det: he clepeth a Calf, Caufe: halfe, haufe: neighbour vocatur nebour; neigh abreuiated ne: this is abhominable, which he would call abhominable it insinuateth me of infamie: ne inteligis domine, to make franticke, lunaticke? Cura. Laus deo, bene intelligo

Peda. Bome boon for boon prescian, a little scratcht, 'twil serue. Enter Bragart, Boy.

Curat. Vides ne quis venit? Peda. Video, & gaudio

Brag. Chirra

Peda. Quari Chirra, not Sirra? Brag. Men of peace well incountred

Ped. Most millitarie sir salutation

Boy. They haue beene at a great feast of Languages, and stolne the scraps

Clow. O they haue liu'd long on the almes-basket of words. I maruell thy M[aster]. hath not eaten thee for a word, for thou art not so long by the head as honorificabilitu%dinitatibus: Thou art easier swallowed then a flapdragon

Page. Peace, the peale begins

Brag. Mounsier, are you not lettred? Page. Yes, yes, he teaches boyes the Horne-booke: What is Ab speld backward with the horn on his head? Peda. Ba, puericia with a horne added

Pag. Ba most seely Sheepe, with a horne: you heare his learning

Peda. Quis quis, thou Consonant? Pag. The last of the fiue Vowels if You repeat them, or the fift if I

Peda. I will repeat them: a e I

Pag. The Sheepe, the other two concludes it o u

Brag. Now by the salt waue of the mediteranium, a sweet tutch, a quicke venewe of wit, snip snap, quick & home, it reioyceth my intellect, true wit

Page. Offered by a childe to an olde man: which is wit-old

Peda. What is the figure? What is the figure? Page. Hornes

Peda. Thou disputes like an Infant: goe whip thy Gigge

Pag. Lend me your Horne to make one, and I will whip about your Infamie vnum cita a gigge of a Cuckolds horne

Clow. And I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst haue it to buy Ginger bread: Hold, there is the very Remuneration I had of thy Maister, thou halfpenny purse of wit, thou Pidgeon-egge of discretion. O & the heauens were so pleased, that thou wert but my Bastard; What a ioyfull father wouldst thou make mee? Goe to, thou hast it ad dungil, at the fingers ends, as they say

Peda. Oh I smell false Latine, dunghel for vnguem

Brag. Arts-man preambulat, we will bee singled from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the Charghouse on the top of the Mountaine? Peda. Or Mons the hill

Brag. At your sweet pleasure, for the Mountaine

Peda. I doe sans question

Bra. Sir, it is the Kings most sweet pleasure and affection, to congratulate the Princesse at her Pauilion, in the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the after-noone

Ped. The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable, congruent, and measurable for the after-noone: the word is well culd, chose, sweet, and apt I doe assure you sir, I doe assure

Brag. Sir, the King is a noble Gentleman, and my familiar, I doe assure ye very good friend: for what is inward betweene vs, let it passe. I doe beseech thee remember thy curtesie. I beseech thee apparell thy head: and among other importunate & most serious designes, and of great import indeed too: but let that passe, for I must tell thee it will please his Grace (by the world) sometime to leane vpon my poore shoulder, and with his royall finger thus dallie with my excrement, with my mustachio: but sweet heart let that passe. By the world I recount no fable, some certaine speciall honours it pleaseth his greatnesse to impart to Armado a Souldier, a man of trauell, that hath seene the world: but let that passe; the very all of all is: but sweet heart I do implore secrecie, that the King would haue mee present the Princesse (sweet chucke) with some delightfull ostentation, or show, or pageant, or anticke, or fire-worke: Now, vnderstanding that the Curate and your sweet self are good at such eruptions, and sodaine breaking out of myrth (as it were) I haue acquainted you withall, to the end to craue your assistance

Peda. Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies. Sir Holofernes, as concerning some entertainment of time, some show in the posterior of this day, to bee rendred by our assistants the Kings command: and this most gallant, illustrate and learned Gentleman, before the Princesse: I say none so fit as to present the Nine Worthies

Curat. Where will you finde men worthy enough to present them? Peda. Iosua, your selfe: my selfe, and this gallant gentleman Iudas Machabeus; this Swaine (because of his great limme or ioynt) shall passe Pompey the great, the Page Hercules

Brag. Pardon sir, error: He is not quantitie enough for that Worthies thumb, hee is not so big as the end of his Club

Peda. Shall I haue audience: he shall present Hercules in minoritie: his enter and exit shall bee strangling a Snake; and I will haue an Apologie for that purpose

Pag. An excellent deuice: so if any of the audience hisse, you may cry, Well done Hercules, now thou crushest the Snake; that is the way to make an offence gracious, though few haue the grace to doe it

Brag. For the rest of the Worthies? Peda. I will play three my selfe

Pag. Thrice worthy Gentleman

Brag. Shall I tell you a thing? Peda. We attend

Brag. We will haue, if this fadge not, an Antique. I beseech you follow

Ped. Via good-man Dull, thou hast spoken no word all this while

Dull. Nor vnderstood none neither sir

Ped. Alone, we will employ thee

Dull. Ile make one in a dance, or so: or I will play on the taber to the Worthies, & let them dance the hey

Ped. Most Dull, honest Dull, to our sport away. Enter.

Enter Ladies.

Qu. Sweet hearts we shall be rich ere we depart, If fairings come thus plentifully in. A Lady wal'd about with Diamonds: Look you, what I haue from the louing King

Rosa. Madam, came nothing else along with that? Qu. Nothing but this: yes as much loue in Rime, As would be cram'd vp in a sheet of paper Writ on both sides the leafe, margent and all, That he was faine to seale on Cupids name

Rosa. That was the way to make his god-head wax: For he hath beene fiue thousand yeeres a Boy

Kath. I, and a shrewd vnhappy gallowes too

Ros. You'll nere be friends with him, a kild your sister

Kath. He made her melancholy, sad, and heauy, and so she died: had she beene Light like you, of such a merrie nimble stirring spirit, she might a bin a Grandam ere she died. And so may you: For a light heart liues long

Ros. What's your darke meaning mouse, of this light word? Kat. A light condition in a beauty darke

Ros. We need more light to finde your meaning out

Kat. You'll marre the light by taking it in snuffe: Therefore Ile darkely end the argument

Ros. Look what you doe, you doe it stil i'th darke

Kat. So do not you, for you are a light Wench

Ros. Indeed I waigh not you, and therefore light

Ka. You waigh me not, O that's you care not for me

Ros. Great reason: for past care, is still past cure

Qu. Well bandied both, a set of Wit well played. But Rosaline, you haue a Fauour too? Who sent it? and what is it? Ros. I would you knew. And if my face were but as faire as yours, My Fauour were as great, be witnesse this. Nay, I haue Verses too, I thanke Berowne, The numbers true, and were the numbring too. I were the fairest goddesse on the ground. I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs. O he hath drawne my picture in his letter

Qu. Any thing like? Ros. Much in the letters, nothing in the praise

Qu. Beauteous as Incke: a good conclusion

Kat. Faire as a text B. in a Coppie booke

Ros. Ware pensals. How? Let me not die your debtor, My red Dominicall, my golden letter. O that your face were full of Oes

Qu. A Pox of that iest, and I beshrew all Shrowes: But Katherine, what was sent to you From faire Dumaine? Kat. Madame, this Gloue

Qu. Did he not send you twaine? Kat. Yes Madame: and moreouer, Some thousand Verses of a faithfull Louer. A huge translation of hypocrisie, Vildly compiled, profound simplicitie

Mar. This, and these Pearls, to me sent Longauile. The Letter is too long by halfe a mile

Qu. I thinke no lesse: Dost thou wish in heart The Chaine were longer, and the Letter short

Mar. I, or I would these hands might neuer part

Quee. We are wise girles to mocke our Louers so

Ros. They are worse fooles to purchase mocking so. That same Berowne ile torture ere I goe. O that I knew he were but in by th' weeke, How I would make him fawne, and begge, and seeke, And wait the season, and obserue the times, And spend his prodigall wits in booteles rimes, And shape his seruice wholly to my deuice, And make him proud to make me proud that iests. So pertaunt like would I o'resway his state, That he shold be my foole, and I his fate

Qu. None are so surely caught, when they are catcht, As Wit turn'd foole, follie in Wisedome hatch'd: Hath wisedoms warrant, and the helpe of Schoole, And Wits owne grace to grace a learned Foole? Ros. The bloud of youth burns not with such excesse, As grauities reuolt to wantons be

Mar. Follie in Fooles beares not so strong a note, As fool'ry in the Wise, when Wit doth dote: Since all the power thereof it doth apply, To proue by Wit, worth in simplicitie. Enter Boyet.

Qu. Heere comes Boyet, and mirth in his face

Boy. O I am stab'd with laughter, Wher's her Grace? Qu. Thy newes Boyet? Boy. Prepare Madame, prepare. Arme Wenches arme, incounters mounted are, Against your Peace, Loue doth approach, disguis'd: Armed in arguments, you'll be surpriz'd. Muster your Wits, stand in your owne defence, Or hide your heads like Cowards, and flie hence

Qu. Saint Dennis to S[aint]. Cupid: What are they, That charge their breath against vs? Say scout say

Boy. Vnder the coole shade of a Siccamore, I thought to close mine eyes some halfe an houre: When lo to interrupt my purpos'd rest, Toward that shade I might behold addrest, The King and his companions: warely I stole into a neighbour thicket by, And ouer-heard, what you shall ouer-heare: That by and by disguis'd they will be heere. Their Herald is a pretty knauish Page: That well by heart hath con'd his embassage, Action and accent did they teach him there. Thus must thou speake, and thus thy body beare. And euer and anon they made a doubt, Presence maiesticall would put him out: For quoth the King, an Angell shalt thou see: Yet feare not thou, but speake audaciously. The Boy reply'd, An Angell is not euill: I should haue fear'd her, had she beene a deuill. With that all laugh'd, and clap'd him on the shoulder, Making the bold wagg by their praises bolder. One rub'd his elboe thus, and fleer'd, and swore, A better speech was neuer spoke before. Another with his finger and his thumb, Cry'd via, we will doo't, come what will come. The third he caper'd and cried, All goes well. The fourth turn'd on the toe, and downe he fell: With that they all did tumble on the ground, With such a zelous laughter so profound, That in this spleene ridiculous appeares, To checke their folly passions solemne teares

Que. But what, but what, come they to visit vs? Boy. They do, they do; and are apparel'd thus, Like Muscouites; or Russians, as I gesse. Their purpose is to parlee, to court, and dance, And euery one his Loue-feat will aduance, Vnto his seuerall mistresse: which they'll know By fauours seuerall, which they did bestow

Queen. And will they so? the Gallants shall be taskt: For Ladies; we will euery one be maskt, And not a man of them shall haue the grace Despight of sute, to see a Ladies face. Hold Rosaline, this Fauour thou shalt weare, And then the King will court thee for his Deare: Hold, take thou this my sweet, and giue me thine, So shall Berowne take me for Rosaline. And change your Fauours too, so shall your Loues Woo contrary, deceiu'd by these remoues

Rosa. Come on then, weare the fauours most in sight

Kath. But in this changing, What is your intent? Queen. The effect of my intent is to crosse theirs: They doe it but in mocking merriment, And mocke for mocke is onely my intent. Their seuerall counsels they vnbosome shall, To Loues mistooke, and so be mockt withall. Vpon the next occasion that we meete, With Visages displayd to talke and greete

Ros. But shall we dance, if they desire vs too't? Quee. No, to the death we will not moue a foot, Nor to their pen'd speech render we no grace: But while 'tis spoke, each turne away his face

Boy. Why that contempt will kill the keepers heart, And quite diuorce his memory from his part

Quee. Therefore I doe it, and I make no doubt, The rest will ere come in, if he be out. Theres no such sport, as sport by sport orethrowne: To make theirs ours, and ours none but our owne. So shall we stay mocking entended game, And they well mockt, depart away with shame.

Sound.

Boy. The Trompet sounds, be maskt, the maskers come. Enter Black moores with musicke, the Boy with a speech, and the rest of the Lords disguised.

Page. All haile, the richest Beauties on the earth

Ber. Beauties no richer then rich Taffata

Pag. A holy parcell of the fairest dames that euer turn'd their backes to mortall viewes.

The Ladies turne their backes to him.

Ber. Their eyes villaine, their eyes

Pag. That euer turn'd their eyes to mortall viewes. Out Boy. True, out indeed

Pag. Out of your fauours heauenly spirits vouchsafe Not to beholde

Ber. Once to behold, rogue

Pag. Once to behold with your Sunne beamed eyes, With your Sunne beamed eyes

Boy. They will not answer to that Epythite, you were best call it Daughter beamed eyes

Pag. They do not marke me, and that brings me out

Bero. Is this your perfectnesse? be gon you rogue

Rosa. What would these strangers? Know their mindes Boyet. If they doe speake our language, 'tis our will That some plaine man recount their purposes. Know what they would? Boyet. What would you with the Princes? Ber. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation

Ros. What would they, say they? Boy. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation

Rosa. Why that they haue, and bid them so be gon

Boy. She saies you haue it, and you may be gon

Kin. Say to her we haue measur'd many miles, To tread a Measure with you on the grasse

Boy. They say that they haue measur'd many a mile, To tread a Measure with you on this grasse

Rosa. It is not so. Aske them how many inches Is in one mile? If they haue measur'd manie, The measure then of one is easlie told

Boy. If to come hither, you haue measur'd miles, And many miles: the Princesse bids you tell, How many inches doth fill vp one mile? Ber. Tell her we measure them by weary steps

Boy. She heares her selfe

Rosa. How manie wearie steps, Of many wearie miles you haue ore-gone, Are numbred in the trauell of one mile? Bero. We number nothing that we spend for you, Our dutie is so rich, so infinite, That we may doe it still without accompt. Vouchsafe to shew the sunshine of your face, That we (like sauages) may worship it

Rosa. My face is but a Moone and clouded too

Kin. Blessed are clouds, to doe as such clouds do. Vouchsafe bright Moone, and these thy stars to shine, (Those clouds remooued) vpon our waterie eyne

Rosa. O vaine peticioner, beg a greater matter, Thou now requests but Mooneshine in the water

Kin. Then in our measure, vouchsafe but one change. Thou bidst me begge, this begging is not strange

Rosa. Play musicke then: nay you must doe it soone. Not yet no dance: thus change I like the Moone

Kin. Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged? Rosa. You tooke the Moone at full, but now shee's changed? Kin. Yet still she is the Moone, and I the Man

Rosa. The musick playes, vouchsafe some motion to it: Our eares vouchsafe it

Kin. But your legges should doe it

Ros. Since you are strangers, & come here by chance, Wee'll not be nice, take hands, we will not dance

Kin. Why take you hands then? Rosa. Onelie to part friends. Curtsie sweet hearts, and so the Measure ends

Kin. More measure of this measure, be not nice

Rosa. We can afford no more at such a price

Kin. Prise your selues: What buyes your companie? Rosa. Your absence onelie

Kin. That can neuer be

Rosa. Then cannot we be bought: and so adue, Twice to your Visore, and halfe once to you

Kin. If you denie to dance, let's hold more chat

Ros. In priuate then

Kin. I am best pleas'd with that

Be. White handed Mistris, one sweet word with thee

Qu. Hony, and Milke, and Suger: there is three

Ber. Nay then two treyes, an if you grow so nice Methegline, Wort, and Malmsey; well runne dice: There's halfe a dozen sweets

Qu. Seuenth sweet adue, since you can cogg, Ile play no more with you

Ber. One word in secret

Qu. Let it not be sweet

Ber. Thou greeu'st my gall

Qu. Gall, bitter

Ber. Therefore meete

Du. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word? Mar. Name it

Dum. Faire Ladie: Mar. Say you so? Faire Lord: Take you that for your faire Lady

Du. Please it you, As much in priuate, and Ile bid adieu

Mar. What, was your vizard made without a tong? Long. I know the reason Ladie why you aske

Mar. O for your reason, quickly sir, I long

Long. You haue a double tongue within your mask, And would affoord my speechlesse vizard halfe

Mar. Veale quoth the Dutch-man: is not Veale a Calfe? Long. A Calfe faire Ladie? Mar. No, a faire Lord Calfe

Long. Let's part the word

Mar. No, Ile not be your halfe: Take all and weane it, it may proue an Oxe

Long. Looke how you but your selfe in these sharpe mockes. Will you giue hornes chast Ladie? Do not so

Mar. Then die a Calfe before your horns do grow

Lon. One word in priuate with you ere I die

Mar. Bleat softly then, the Butcher heares you cry

Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen As is the Razors edge, inuisible: Cutting a smaller haire then may be seene, Aboue the sense of sence so sensible: Seemeth their conference, their conceits haue wings, Fleeter then arrows, bullets wind, thoght, swifter things Rosa. Not one word more my maides, breake off, breake off

Ber. By heauen, all drie beaten with pure scoffe

King. Farewell madde Wenches, you haue simple wits.

Exeunt.

Qu. Twentie adieus my frozen Muscouits. Are these the breed of wits so wondred at? Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweete breathes puft out

Rosa. Wel-liking wits they haue, grosse, grosse, fat, fat

Qu. O pouertie in wit, Kingly poore flout. Will they not (thinke you) hang themselues to night? Or euer but in vizards shew their faces: This pert Berowne was out of count'nance quite

Rosa. They were all in lamentable cases. The King was weeping ripe for a good word

Qu. Berowne did sweare himselfe out of all suite

Mar. Dumaine was at my seruice, and his sword: No point (quoth I:) my seruant straight was mute

Ka. Lord Longauill said I came ore his hart: And trow you what he call'd me? Qu. Qualme perhaps

Kat. Yes in good faith

Qu. Go sicknesse as thou art

Ros. Well, better wits haue worne plain statute caps, But will you heare; the King is my loue sworne

Qu. And quicke Berowne hath plighted faith to me

Kat. And Longauill was for my seruice borne

Mar. Dumaine is mine as sure as barke on tree

Boyet. Madam, and prettie mistresses giue eare, Immediately they will againe be heere In their owne shapes: for it can neuer be, They will digest this harsh indignitie

Qu. Will they returne? Boy. They will they will, God knowes, And leape for ioy, though they are lame with blowes: Therefore change Fauours, and when they repaire, Blow like sweet Roses, in this summer aire

Qu. How blow? how blow? Speake to bee vnderstood

Boy. Faire Ladies maskt, are Roses in their bud: Dismaskt, their damaske sweet commixture showne, Are Angels vailing clouds, or Roses blowne

Qu. Auant perplexitie: What shall we do, If they returne in their owne shapes to wo? Rosa. Good Madam, if by me you'l be aduis'd. Let's mocke them still as well knowne as disguis'd: Let vs complaine to them what fooles were heare, Disguis'd like Muscouites in shapelesse geare: And wonder what they were, and to what end Their shallow showes, and Prologue vildely pen'd: And their rough carriage so ridiculous, Should be presented at our Tent to vs

Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand

Quee. Whip to our Tents, as Roes runnes ore Land.

Exeunt.

Enter the King and the rest.

King. Faire sir, God saue you. Wher's the Princesse? Boy. Gone to her Tent. Please it your Maiestie command me any seruice to her? King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word

Boy. I will, and so will she, I know my Lord. Enter.

Ber. This fellow pickes vp wit as Pigeons pease, And vtters it againe, when Ioue doth please. He is Wits Pedler, and retailes his Wares, At Wakes, and Wassels, Meetings, Markets, Faires. And we that sell by grosse, the Lord doth know, Haue not the grace to grace it with such show. This Gallant pins the Wenches on his sleeue. Had he bin Adam, he had tempted Eue. He can carue too, and lispe: Why this is he, That kist away his hand in courtesie. This is the Ape of Forme, Monsieur the nice, That when he plaies at Tables, chides the Dice In honorable tearmes: Nay he can sing A meane most meanly, and in Vshering Mend him who can: the Ladies call him sweete. The staires as he treads on them kisse his feete. This is the flower that smiles on euerie one, To shew his teeth as white as Whales bone. And consciences that wil not die in debt, Pay him the dutie of honie-tongued Boyet

King. A blister on his sweet tongue with my hart, That put Armathoes Page out of his part. Enter the Ladies.

Ber. See where it comes. Behauiour what wer't thou, Till this madman shew'd thee? And what art thou now? King. All haile sweet Madame, and faire time of day

Qu. Faire in all Haile is foule, as I conceiue

King. Construe my speeches better, if you may

Qu. Then wish me better, I wil giue you leaue

King. We came to visit you, and purpose now To leade you to our Court, vouchsafe it then

Qu. This field shal hold me, and so hold your vow: Nor God, nor I, delights in periur'd men

King. Rebuke me not for that which you prouoke: The vertue of your eie must breake my oth

Q. You nickname vertue: vice you should haue spoke: For vertues office neuer breakes men troth. Now by my maiden honor, yet as pure As the vnsallied Lilly, I protest, A world of torments though I should endure, I would not yeeld to be your houses guest: So much I hate a breaking cause to be Of heauenly oaths, vow'd with integritie

Kin. O you haue liu'd in desolation heere, Vnseene, vnuisited, much to our shame

Qu. Not so my Lord, it is not so I sweare, We haue had pastimes heere, and pleasant game, A messe of Russians left vs but of late

Kin. How Madam? Russians? Qu. I in truth, my Lord. Trim gallants, full of Courtship and of state

Rosa. Madam speake true. It is not so my Lord: My Ladie (to the manner of the daies) In curtesie giues vndeseruing praise. We foure indeed confronted were with foure In Russia habit: Heere they stayed an houre, And talk'd apace: and in that houre (my Lord) They did not blesse vs with one happy word. I dare not call them fooles; but this I thinke, When they are thirstie, fooles would faine haue drinke

Ber. This iest is drie to me. Gentle sweete, Your wits makes wise things foolish when we greete With eies best seeing, heauens fierie eie: By light we loose light; your capacitie Is of that nature, that to your huge stoore, Wise things seeme foolish, and rich things but poore

Ros. This proues you wise and rich: for in my eie Ber. I am a foole, and full of pouertie

Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong, It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue

Ber. O, I am yours, and all that I possesse

Ros. All the foole mine

Ber. I cannot giue you lesse

Ros. Which of the Vizards what it that you wore? Ber. Where? when? What Vizard? Why demand you this? Ros. There, then, that vizard, that superfluous case, That hid the worse, and shew'd the better face

Kin. We are discried, They'l mocke vs now downeright

Du. Let vs confesse, and turne it to a iest

Que. Amaz'd my Lord? Why lookes your Highnes sadde? Rosa. Helpe hold his browes, hee'l sound: why looke you pale? Sea-sicke I thinke comming from Muscouie

Ber. Thus poure the stars down plagues for periury. Can any face of brasse hold longer out? Heere stand I, Ladie dart thy skill at me, Bruise me with scorne, confound me with a flout. Thrust thy sharpe wit quite through my ignorance. Cut me to peeces with thy keene conceit: And I will wish thee neuer more to dance, Nor neuer more in Russian habit waite. O! neuer will I trust to speeches pen'd, Nor to the motion of a Schoole-boies tongue. Nor neuer come in vizard to my friend, Nor woo in rime like a blind-harpers songue, Taffata phrases, silken tearmes precise, Three-pil'd Hyperboles, spruce affection; Figures pedanticall, these summer flies, Haue blowne me full of maggot ostentation. I do forsweare them, and I heere protest, By this white Gloue (how white the hand God knows) Henceforth my woing minde shall be exprest In russet yeas, and honest kersie noes. And to begin Wench, so God helpe me law, My loue to thee is sound, sans cracke or flaw, Rosa. Sans, sans, I pray you

Ber. Yet I haue a tricke Of the old rage: beare with me, I am sicke. Ile leaue it by degrees: soft, let vs see, Write Lord haue mercie on vs, on those three, They are infected, in their hearts it lies: They haue the plague, and caught it of your eyes: These Lords are visited, you are not free: For the Lords tokens on you do I see

Qu. No, they are free that gaue these tokens to vs

Ber. Our states are forfeit, seeke not to vndo vs

Ros. It is not so; for how can this be true, That you stand forfeit, being those that sue

Ber. Peace, for I will not haue to do with you

Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend

Ber. Speake for your selues, my wit is at an end

King. Teach vs sweete Madame, for our rude transgression, some faire excuse

Qu. The fairest is confession. Were you not heere but euen now, disguis'd? Kin. Madam, I was

Qu. And were you well aduis'd? Kin. I was faire Madam

Qu. When you then were heere, What did you whisper in your Ladies eare? King. That more then all the world I did respect her Qu. When shee shall challenge this, you will reiect her

King. Vpon mine Honor no

Qu. Peace, peace, forbeare: Your oath once broke, you force not to forsweare

King. Despise me when I breake this oath of mine

Qu. I will, and therefore keepe it. Rosaline, What did the Russian whisper in your eare? Ros. Madam, he swore that he did hold me deare As precious eye-sight, and did value me Aboue this World: adding thereto moreouer, That he would Wed me, or else die my Louer

Qu. God giue thee ioy of him: the Noble Lord Most honorably doth vphold his word

King. What meane you Madame? By my life, my troth I neuer swore this Ladie such an oth

Ros. By heauen you did; and to confirme it plaine, You gaue me this: But take it sir againe

King. My faith and this, the Princesse I did giue, I knew her by this Iewell on her sleeue

Qu. Pardon me sir, this Iewell did she weare. And Lord Berowne (I thanke him) is my deare. What? Will you haue me, or your Pearle againe? Ber. Neither of either, I remit both twaine. I see the tricke on't: Heere was a consent, Knowing aforehand of our merriment, To dash it like a Christmas Comedie. Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight Zanie, Some mumble-newes, some trencher-knight, som Dick That smiles his cheeke in yeares, and knowes the trick To make my Lady laugh, when she's dispos'd; Told our intents before: which once disclos'd, The Ladies did change Fauours; and then we Following the signes, woo'd but the signe of she. Now to our periurie, to adde more terror, We are againe forsworne in will and error. Much vpon this tis: and might not you Forestall our sport, to make vs thus vntrue? Do not you know my Ladies foot by'th squier? And laugh vpon the apple of her eie? And stand betweene her backe sir, and the fire, Holding a trencher, iesting merrilie? You put our Page out: go, you are alowd. Die when you will, a smocke shall be your shrowd. You leere vpon me, do you? There's an eie Wounds like a Leaden sword

Boy. Full merrily hath this braue manager, this carreere bene run

Ber. Loe, he is tilting straight. Peace, I haue don. Enter Clowne.

Welcome pure wit, thou part'st a faire fray

Clo. O Lord sir, they would kno, Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no

Ber. What, are there but three? Clo. No sir, but it is vara fine, For euerie one pursents three

Ber. And three times thrice is nine

Clo. Not so sir, vnder correction sir, I hope it is not so. You cannot beg vs sir, I can assure you sir, we know what we know: I hope sir three times thrice sir

Ber. Is not nine

Clo. Vnder correction sir, wee know where-vntill it doth amount

Ber. By Ioue, I alwaies tooke three threes for nine

Clow. O Lord sir, it were pittie you should get your liuing by reckning sir

Ber. How much is it? Clo. O Lord sir, the parties themselues, the actors sir will shew where-vntill it doth amount: for mine owne part, I am (as they say, but to perfect one man in one poore man) Pompion the great sir

Ber. Art thou one of the Worthies? Clo. It pleased them to thinke me worthie of Pompey the great: for mine owne part, I know not the degree of the Worthie, but I am to stand for him

Ber. Go, bid them prepare. Enter.

Clo. We will turne it finely off sir, we wil take some care

King. Berowne, they will shame vs: Let them not approach

Ber. We are shame-proofe my Lord: and 'tis some policie, to haue one shew worse then the Kings and his companie

Kin. I say they shall not come

Qu. Nay my good Lord, let me ore-rule you now; That sport best pleases, that doth least know how. Where Zeale striues to content, and the contents Dies in the Zeale of that which it presents: Their forme confounded, makes most forme in mirth, When great things labouring perish in their birth

Ber. A right description of our sport my Lord. Enter Braggart.

Brag. Annointed, I implore so much expence of thy royall sweet breath, as will vtter a brace of words

Qu. Doth this man serue God? Ber. Why aske you? Qu. He speak's not like a man of God's making

Brag. That's all one my faire sweet honie Monarch: For I protest, the Schoolmaster is exceeding fantasticall: Too too vaine, too too vaine. But we wil put it (as they say) to Fortuna delaguar, I wish you the peace of minde most royall cupplement

King. Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies; He presents Hector of Troy, the Swaine Pompey y great, the Parish Curate Alexander, Armadoes Page Hercules, the Pedant Iudas Machabeus: and if these foure Worthies in their first shew thriue, these foure will change habites, and present the other fiue

Ber. There is fiue in the first shew

Kin. You are deceiued, tis not so

Ber. The Pedant, the Braggart, the Hedge-Priest, the Foole, and the Boy, Abate throw at Novum, and the whole world againe, Cannot pricke out fiue such, take each one in's vaine

Kin. The ship is vnder saile, and here she coms amain. Enter Pompey.

Clo. I Pompey am

Ber. You lie, you are not he

Clo. I Pompey am

Boy. With Libbards head on knee

Ber. Well said old mocker, I must needs be friends with thee

Clo. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big

Du. The great

Clo. It is great sir: Pompey surnam'd the great: That oft in field, with Targe and Shield, did make my foe to sweat: And trauailing along this coast, I heere am come by chance, And lay my Armes before the legs of this sweet Lasse of France. If your Ladiship would say thankes Pompey, I had done

La. Great thankes great Pompey

Clo. Tis not so much worth: but I hope I was perfect. I made a little fault in great

Ber. My hat to a halfe-penie, Pompey prooues the best Worthie. Enter Curate for Alexander.

Curat. When in the world I liu'd, I was the worldes Commander: By East, West, North, & South, I spred my conquering might My Scutcheon plaine declares that I am Alisander

Boiet. Your nose saies no, you are not: For it stands too right

Ber. Your nose smells no, in this most tender smelling Knight

Qu. The Conqueror is dismaid: Proceede good Alexander

Cur. When in the world I liued, I was the worldes Commander

Boiet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so Alisander

Ber. Pompey the great

Clo. your seruant and Costard

Ber. Take away the Conqueror, take away Alisander Clo. O sir, you haue ouerthrowne Alisander the conqueror: you will be scrap'd out of the painted cloth for this: your Lion that holds his Pollax sitting on a close stoole, will be giuen to Aiax. He will be the ninth worthie. A Conqueror, and affraid to speake? Runne away for shame Alisander. There an't shall please you: a foolish milde man, an honest man, looke you, & soon dasht. He is a maruellous good neighbour insooth, and a verie good Bowler: but for Alisander, alas you see, how 'tis a little ore-parted. But there are Worthies a comming, will speake their minde in some other sort.

Exit Cu.

Qu. Stand aside good Pompey. Enter Pedant for Iudas, and the Boy for Hercules.

Ped. Great Hercules is presented by this Impe, Whose Club kil'd Cerberus that three-headed Canus, And when he was a babe, a childe, a shrimpe, Thus did he strangle Serpents in his Manus: Quoniam, he seemeth in minoritie, Ergo, I come with this Apologie. Keepe some state in thy exit, and vanish.

Exit Boy

Ped. Iudas I am

Dum. A Iudas? Ped. Not Iscariot sir. Iudas I am, ycliped Machabeus

Dum. Iudas Machabeus clipt, is plaine Iudas

Ber. A kissing traitor. How art thou prou'd Iudas? Ped. Iudas I am

Dum. The more shame for you Iudas

Ped. What meane you sir? Boi. To make Iudas hang himselfe

Ped. Begin sir, you are my elder

Ber. Well follow'd, Iudas was hang'd on an Elder

Ped. I will not be put out of countenance

Ber. Because thou hast no face

Ped. What is this? Boi. A Citterne head

Dum. The head of a bodkin

Ber. A deaths face in a ring

Lon. The face of an old Roman coine, scarce seene

Boi. The pummell of Cæsars Faulchion

Dum. The caru'd-bone face on a Flaske

Ber. S[aint]. Georges halfe cheeke in a brooch

Dum. I, and in a brooch of Lead

Ber. I, and worne in the cap of a Tooth-drawer. And now forward, for we haue put thee in countenance Ped. You haue put me out of countenance

Ber. False, we haue giuen thee faces

Ped. But you haue out-fac'd them all

Ber. And thou wer't a Lion, we would do so

Boy. Therefore as he is, an Asse, let him go: And so adieu sweet Iude. Nay, why dost thou stay? Dum. For the latter end of his name

Ber. For the Asse to the Iude: giue it him. Iudas away

Ped. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble

Boy. A light for monsieur Iudas, it growes darke, he may stumble

Que. Alas poore Machabeus, how hath hee beene baited. Enter Braggart.

Ber. Hide thy head Achilles, heere comes Hector in Armes

Dum. Though my mockes come home by me, I will now be merrie

King. Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this

Boi. But is this Hector? Kin. I thinke Hector was not so cleane timber'd

Lon. His legge is too big for Hector

Dum. More Calfe certaine

Boi. No, he is best indued in the small

Ber. This cannot be Hector

Dum. He's a God or a Painter, for he makes faces

Brag. The Armipotent Mars, of Launces the almighty, gaue Hector a gift

Dum. A gilt Nutmegge

Ber. A Lemmon

Lon. Stucke with Cloues

Dum. No clouen

Brag. The Armipotent Mars of Launces the almighty, Gaue Hector a gift, the heire of Illion; A man so breathed, that certaine he would fight: yea From morne till night, out of his Pauillion. I am that Flower

Dum. That Mint

Long. That Cullambine

Brag. Sweet Lord Longauill reine thy tongue

Lon. I must rather giue it the reine: for it runnes against Hector

Dum. I, and Hector's a Grey-hound

Brag. The sweet War-man is dead and rotten, Sweet chuckes, beat not the bones of the buried: But I will forward with my deuice; Sweete Royaltie bestow on me the sence of hearing.

Berowne steppes forth.

Qu. Speake braue Hector, we are much delighted

Brag. i do adore thy sweet Graces slipper

Boy. Loues her by the foot

Dum. He may not by the yard

Brag. This Hector farre surmounted Hanniball. The partie is gone

Clo. Fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two moneths on her way

Brag. What meanest thou? Clo. Faith vnlesse you play the honest Troyan, the poore Wench is cast away: she's quick, the child brags in her belly alreadie: tis yours

Brag. Dost thou infamonize me among Potentates? Thou shalt die

Clo. Then shall Hector be whipt for Iaquenetta that is quicke by him, and hang'd for Pompey, that is dead by him

Dum. Most rare Pompey

Boi. Renowned Pompey

Ber. Greater then great, great, great, great Pompey: Pompey the huge

Dum. Hector trembles

Ber. Pompey is moued, more Atees more Atees stirre them, or stirre them on

Dum. Hector will challenge him

Ber. I, if a'haue no more mans blood in's belly, then will sup a Flea

Brag. By the North-pole I do challenge thee

Clo. I wil not fight with a pole like a Northern man; Ile slash, Ile do it by the sword: I pray you let mee borrow my Armes againe

Dum. Roome for the incensed Worthies

Clo. Ile do it in my shirt

Dum. Most resolute Pompey

Page. Master, let me take you a button hole lower: Do you not see Pompey is vncasing for the combat: what meane you? you will lose your reputation

Brag. Gentlemen and Souldiers pardon me, I will not combat in my shirt

Du. You may not denie it, Pompey hath made the challenge

Brag. Sweet bloods, I both may, and will

Ber. What reason haue you for't? Brag. The naked truth of it is, I haue no shirt, I go woolward for penance

Boy. True, and it was inioyned him in Rome for want of Linnen: since when, Ile be sworne he wore none, but a dishclout of Iaquenettas, and that hee weares next his heart for a fauour. Enter a Messenger, Monsieur Marcade.

Mar. God saue you Madame

Qu. Welcome Marcade, but that thou interruptest our merriment

Marc. I am sorrie Madam, for the newes I bring is heauie in my tongue. The King your father Qu. Dead for my life

Mar. Euen so: My tale is told

Ber. Worthies away, the Scene begins to cloud

Brag. For mine owne part, I breath free breath: I haue seene the day of wrong, through the little hole of discretion, and I will right my selfe like a Souldier.

Exeunt. Worthies

Kin. How fare's your Maiestie? Qu. Boyet prepare, I will away to night

Kin. Madame not so, I do beseech you stay

Qu. Prepare I say. I thanke you gracious Lords For all your faire endeuours and entreats: Out of a new sad-soule, that you vouchsafe, In your rich wisedome to excuse, or hide, The liberall opposition of our spirits, If ouer-boldly we haue borne our selues, In the conuerse of breath (your gentlenesse Was guiltie of it.) Farewell worthie Lord: A heauie heart beares not a humble tongue. Excuse me so, comming so short of thankes, For my great suite, so easily obtain'd

Kin. The extreme parts of time, extremelie formes All causes to the purpose of his speed: And often at his verie loose decides That, which long processe could not arbitrate. And though the mourning brow of progenie Forbid the smiling curtesie of Loue: The holy suite which faine it would conuince, Yet since loues argument was first on foote, Let not the cloud of sorrow iustle it From what it purpos'd: since to waile friends lost, Is not by much so wholsome profitable, As to reioyce at friends but newly found

Qu. I vnderstand you not, my greefes are double

Ber. Honest plain words, best pierce the ears of griefe And by these badges vnderstand the King, For your faire sakes haue we neglected time, Plaid foule play with our oaths: your beautie Ladies Hath much deformed vs, fashioning our humors Euen to the opposed end of our intents. And what in vs hath seem'd ridiculous: As Loue is full of vnbefitting straines, All wanton as a childe, skipping and vaine. Form'd by the eie, and therefore like the eie. Full of straying shapes, of habits, and of formes Varying in subiects as the eie doth roule, To euerie varied obiect in his glance: Which partie-coated presence of loose loue Put on by vs, if in your heauenly eies, Haue misbecom'd our oathes and grauities. Those heauenlie eies that looke into these faults, Suggested vs to make: therefore Ladies Our loue being yours, the error that Loue makes Is likewise yours. We to our selues proue false, By being once false, for euer to be true To those that make vs both, faire Ladies you. And euen that falshood in it selfe a sinne, Thus purifies it selfe, and turnes to grace

Qu. We haue receiu'd your Letters, full of Loue: Your Fauours, the Ambassadors of Loue. And in our maiden counsaile rated them, At courtship, pleasant iest, and curtesie, As bumbast and as lining to the time: But more deuout then these are our respects Haue we not bene, and therefore met your loues In their owne fashion, like a merriment

Du. Our letters Madam, shew'd much more then iest

Lon. So did our lookes

Rosa. We did not coat them so

Kin. Now at the latest minute of the houre, Grant vs your loues

Qu. A time me thinkes too short, To make a world-without-end bargaine in: No, no my Lord, your Grace is periur'd much, Full of deare guiltinesse, and therefore this: If for my Loue (as there is no such cause) You will do ought, this shall you do for me. Your oth I will not trust: but go with speed To some forlorne and naked Hermitage, Remote from all the pleasures of the world: There stay, vntill the twelue Celestiall Signes Haue brought about their annuall reckoning. If this austere insociable life, Change not your offer made in heate of blood: If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds Nip not the gaudie blossomes of your Loue, But that it beare this triall, and last loue: Then at the expiration of the yeare, Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts, And by this Virgin palme, now kissing thine, I will be thine: and till that instant shut My wofull selfe vp in a mourning house, Raining the teares of lamentation, For the remembrance of my Fathers death. If this thou do denie, let our hands part, Neither intitled in the others hart

Kin. If this, or more then this, I would denie, To flatter vp these powers of mine with rest, The sodaine hand of death close vp mine eie. Hence euer then, my heart is in thy brest

Ber. And what to me my Loue? and what to me? Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rack'd. You are attaint with faults and periurie: Therefore if you my fauor meane to get, A tweluemonth shall you spend, and neuer rest, But seeke the wearie beds of people sicke

Du. But what to me my loue? but what to me? Kat. A wife? a beard, faire health, and honestie, With three-fold loue, I wish you all these three

Du. O shall I say, I thanke you gentle wife? Kat. Not so my Lord, a tweluemonth and a day, Ile marke no words that smoothfac'd wooers say. Come when the King doth to my Ladie come: Then if I haue much loue, Ile giue you some

Dum. Ile serue thee true and faithfully till then

Kath. Yet sweare not, least ye be forsworne agen

Lon. What saies Maria? Mari. At the tweluemonths end, Ile change my blacke Gowne, for a faithfull friend

Lon. Ile stay with patience: but the time is long

Mari. The liker you, few taller are so yong

Ber. Studies my Ladie? Mistresse, looke on me, Behold the window of my heart, mine eie: What humble suite attends thy answer there, Impose some seruice on me for my loue

Ros. Oft haue I heard of you my Lord Berowne, Before I saw you: and the worlds large tongue Proclaimes you for a man repleate with mockes, Full of comparisons, and wounding floutes: Which you on all estates will execute, That lie within the mercie of your wit. To weed this Wormewood from your fruitfull braine, And therewithall to win me, if you please, Without the which I am not to be won: You shall this tweluemonth terme from day to day, Visit the speechlesse sicke, and still conuerse With groaning wretches: and your taske shall be, With all the fierce endeuour of your wit, To enforce the pained impotent to smile

Ber. To moue wilde laughter in the throate of death? It cannot be, it is impossible. Mirth cannot moue a soule in agonie

Ros. Why that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, Whose influence is begot of that loose grace, Which shallow laughing hearers giue to fooles: A iests prosperitie, lies in the eare Of him that heares it, neuer in the tongue Of him that makes it: then, if sickly eares, Deaft with the clamors of their owne deare grones, Will heare your idle scornes; continue then, And I will haue you, and that fault withall. But if they will not, throw away that spirit, And I shal finde you emptie of that fault, Right ioyfull of your reformation

Ber. A tweluemonth? Well: befall what will befall, Ile iest a tweluemonth in an Hospitall

Qu. I sweet my Lord, and so I take my leaue

King. No Madam, we will bring you on your way

Ber. Our woing doth not end like an old Play: Iacke hath not Gill: these Ladies courtesie Might wel haue made our sport a Comedie

Kin. Come sir, it wants a tweluemonth and a day, And then 'twil end

Ber. That's too long for a play. Enter Braggart.

Brag. Sweet Maiesty vouchsafe me

Qu. Was not that Hector? Dum. The worthie Knight of Troy

Brag. I wil kisse thy royal finger, and take leaue. I am a Votarie, I haue vow'd to Iaquenetta to holde the Plough for her sweet loue three yeares. But most esteemed greatnesse, wil you heare the Dialogue that the two Learned men haue compiled, in praise of the Owle and the Cuckow? It should haue followed in the end of our shew

Kin. Call them forth quickely, we will do so

Brag. Holla, Approach. Enter all.

This side is Hiems, Winter. This Ver, the Spring: the one maintained by the Owle, Th' other by the Cuckow. Ver, begin.

The Song.

When Dasies pied, and Violets blew, And Cuckow-buds of yellow hew: And Ladie-smockes all siluer white, Do paint the Medowes with delight. The Cuckow then on euerie tree, Mockes married men, for thus sings he, Cuckow. Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare, Vnpleasing to a married eare. When Shepheards pipe on Oaten strawes, And merrie Larkes are Ploughmens clockes: When Turtles tread, and Rookes and Dawes, And Maidens bleach their summer smockes: The Cuckow then on euerie tree Mockes married men; for thus sings he, Cuckow. Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare, Vnpleasing to a married eare

Winter. When Isicles hang by the wall, And Dicke the Shepheard blowes his naile; And Tom beares Logges into the hall, And Milke comes frozen home in paile: When blood is nipt, and waies be fowle, Then nightly sings the staring Owle Tuwhit towho. A merrie note, While greasie Ione doth keele the pot. When all aloud the winde doth blow, And coffing drownes the Parsons saw: And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marrians nose lookes red and raw: When roasted Crabs hisse in the bowle, Then nightly sings the staring Owle, Tuwhit towho: A merrie note, While greasie Ione doth keele the pot

Brag. The Words of Mercurie, Are harsh after the songs of Apollo: You that way; we this way.

Exeunt. omnes.

FINIS. Loues Labour's lost.

A Midsommer Nights Dreame

Actus primus.

Enter Theseus, Hippolita, with others.

Theseus. Now faire Hippolita, our nuptiall houre Drawes on apace: foure happy daies bring in Another Moon: but oh, me thinkes, how slow This old Moon wanes; She lingers my desires Like to a Step-dame, or a Dowager, Long withering out a yong mans reuennew

Hip. Foure daies wil quickly steep the[m]selues in nights Foure nights wil quickly dreame away the time: And then the Moone, like to a siluer bow, Now bent in heauen, shal behold the night Of our solemnities

The. Go Philostrate, Stirre vp the Athenian youth to merriments, Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth, Turne melancholy forth to Funerals: The pale companion is not for our pompe, Hippolita, I woo'd thee with my sword, And wonne thy loue, doing thee iniuries: But I will wed thee in another key, With pompe, with triumph, and with reuelling. Enter Egeus and his daughter Hermia, Lysander, and Demetrius.

Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned Duke

The. Thanks good Egeus: what's the news with thee? Ege. Full of vexation, come I, with complaint Against my childe, my daughter Hermia.

Stand forth Demetrius.

My Noble Lord, This man hath my consent to marrie her.

Stand forth Lysander.

And my gracious Duke, This man hath bewitch'd the bosome of my childe: Thou, thou Lysander, thou hast giuen her rimes, And interchang'd loue-tokens with my childe: Thou hast by Moone-light at her window sung, With faining voice, verses of faining loue, And stolne the impression of her fantasie, With bracelets of thy haire, rings, gawdes, conceits, Knackes, trifles, Nose-gaies, sweet meats (messengers Of strong preuailment in vnhardned youth) With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughters heart, Turn'd her obedience (which is due to me) To stubborne harshnesse. And my gracious Duke, Be it so she will not heere before your Grace, Consent to marrie with Demetrius, I beg the ancient priuiledge of Athens; As she is mine, I may dispose of her; Which shall be either to this Gentleman, Or to her death, according to our Law, Immediately prouided in that case

The. What say you Hermia? be aduis'd faire Maide, To you your Father should be as a God; One that compos'd your beauties; yea and one To whom you are but as a forme in waxe By him imprinted: and within his power, To leaue the figure, or disfigure it: Demetrius is a worthy Gentleman

Her. So is Lysander

The. In himselfe he is. But in this kinde, wanting your fathers voyce, The other must be held the worthier

Her. I would my father look'd but with my eyes

The. Rather your eies must with his iudgment looke

Her. I do entreat your Grace to pardon me. I know not by what power I am made bold, Nor how it may concerne my modestie In such a presence heere to pleade my thoughts: But I beseech your Grace, that I may know The worst that may befall me in this case, If I refuse to wed Demetrius

The. Either to dye the death, or to abiure For euer the society of men. Therefore faire Hermia question your desires, Know of your youth, examine well your blood, Whether (if you yeeld not to your fathers choice) You can endure the liuerie of a Nunne, For aye to be in shady Cloister mew'd, To liue a barren sister all your life, Chanting faint hymnes to the cold fruitlesse Moone, Thrice blessed they that master so their blood, To vndergo such maiden pilgrimage, But earthlier happie is the Rose distil'd, Then that which withering on the virgin thorne, Growes, liues, and dies, in single blessednesse

Her. So will I grow, so liue, so die my Lord, Ere I will yeeld my virgin Patent vp Vnto his Lordship, whose vnwished yoake, My soule consents not to giue soueraignty

The. Take time to pause, and by the next new Moon The sealing day betwixt my loue and me, For euerlasting bond of fellowship: Vpon that day either prepare to dye, For disobedience to your fathers will, Or else to wed Demetrius as hee would, Or on Dianaes Altar to protest For aie, austerity, and single life

Dem. Relent sweet Hermia, and Lysander, yeelde Thy crazed title to my certaine right

Lys. You haue her fathers loue, Demetrius: Let me haue Hermiaes: do you marry him

Egeus. Scornfull Lysander, true, he hath my Loue; And what is mine, my loue shall render him. And she is mine, and all my right of her, I do estate vnto Demetrius

Lys. I am my Lord, as well deriu'd as he, As well possest: my loue is more then his: My fortunes euery way as fairely ranck'd (If not with vantage) as Demetrius: And (which is more then all these boasts can be) I am belou'd of beauteous Hermia. Why should not I then prosecute my right? Demetrius, Ile auouch it to his head, Made loue to Nedars daughter, Helena, And won her soule: and she (sweet Ladie) dotes, Deuoutly dotes, dotes in Idolatry, Vpon this spotted and inconstant man

The. I must confesse, that I haue heard so much, And with Demetrius thought to haue spoke thereof: But being ouer-full of selfe-affaires, My minde did lose it. But Demetrius come, And come Egeus, you shall go with me, I haue some priuate schooling for you both. For you faire Hermia, looke you arme your selfe, To fit your fancies to your Fathers will; Or else the Law of Athens yeelds you vp (Which by no meanes we may extenuate) To death, or to a vow of single life. Come my Hippolita, what cheare my loue? Demetrius and Egeus go along: I must imploy you in some businesse Against our nuptiall, and conferre with you Of something, neerely that concernes your selues

Ege. With dutie and desire we follow you.

Exeunt.

Manet Lysander and Hermia.

Lys. How now my loue? Why is your cheek so pale? How chance the Roses there do fade so fast? Her. Belike for want of raine, which I could well Beteeme them, from the tempest of mine eyes

Lys. For ought that euer I could reade, Could euer heare by tale or historie, The course of true loue neuer did run smooth, But either it was different in blood

Her. O crosse! too high to be enthral'd to loue

Lys. Or else misgraffed, in respect of yeares

Her. O spight! too old to be ingag'd to yong

Lys. Or else it stood vpon the choise of merit

Her. O hell! to choose loue by anothers eie

Lys. Or if there were a simpathie in choise, Warre, death, or sicknesse, did lay siege to it; Making it momentarie, as a sound: Swift as a shadow, short as any dreame, Briefe as the lightning in the collied night, That (in a spleene) vnfolds both heauen and earth; And ere a man hath power to say, behold, The iawes of darkness do deuoure it vp: So quicke bright things come to confusion

Her. If then true Louers haue beene euer crost, It stands as an edict in destinie: Then let vs teach our triall patience, Because it is a customarie crosse, As due to loue, as thoughts, and dreames, and sighes, Wishes and teares; poore Fancies followers

Lys. A good perswasion; therefore heare me Hermia, I haue a Widdow Aunt, a dowager, Of great reuennew, and she hath no childe, From Athens is her house remou'd seuen leagues, And she respects me, as her onely sonne: There gentle Hermia, may I marrie thee, And to that place, the sharpe Athenian Law Cannot pursue vs. If thou lou'st me, then Steale forth thy Fathers house to morrow night: And in the wood, a league without the towne, (Where I did meete thee once with Helena. To do obseruance for a morne of May) There will I stay for thee

Her. My good Lysander, I sweare to thee, by Cupids strongest bow, By his best arrow with the golden head, By the simplicitie of Venus Doues, By that which knitteth soules, and prospers loue, And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage Queene, When the false Troyan vnder saile was seene, By all the vowes that euer men haue broke, (In number more then euer women spoke) In that same place thou hast appointed me, To morrow truly will I meete with thee

Lys. Keepe promise loue: looke here comes Helena. Enter Helena.

Her. God speede faire Helena, whither away? Hel. Cal you me faire? that faire againe vnsay, Demetrius loues you faire: O happie faire! Your eyes are loadstarres, and your tongues sweete ayre More tuneable then Larke to shepheards eare, When wheate is greene, when hauthorne buds appeare, Sicknesse is catching: O were fauor so, Your words I catch, faire Hermia ere I go, My eare should catch your voice, my eye, your eye, My tongue should catch your tongues sweete melodie, Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated, The rest Ile giue to be to you translated. O teach me how you looke, and with what art You sway the motion of Demetrius hart

Her. I frowne vpon him, yet he loues me still

Hel. O that your frownes would teach my smiles such skil

Her. I giue him curses, yet he giues me loue

Hel. O that my prayers could such affection mooue

Her. The more I hate, the more he followes me

Hel. The more I loue, the more he hateth me

Her. His folly Helena is none of mine

Hel. None but your beauty, wold that fault wer mine Her. Take comfort: he no more shall see my face, Lysander and my selfe will flie this place. Before the time I did Lysander see, Seem'd Athens like a Paradise to mee. O then, what graces in my Loue do dwell, That he hath turn'd a heauen into hell

Lys. Helen, to you our mindes we will vnfold, To morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold Her siluer visage, in the watry glasse, Decking with liquid pearle, the bladed grasse (A time that Louers flights doth still conceale) Through Athens gates, haue we deuis'd to steale

Her. And in the wood, where often you and I, Vpon faint Primrose beds, were wont to lye, Emptying our bosomes, of their counsell sweld: There my Lysander, and my selfe shall meete, And thence from Athens turne away our eyes To seeke new friends and strange companions, Farwell sweet play-fellow, pray thou for vs, And good lucke grant thee thy Demetrius. Keepe word Lysander we must starue our sight, From louers foode, till morrow deepe midnight.

Exit Hermia.

Lys. I will my Hermia. Helena adieu, As you on him, Demetrius dotes on you.

Exit Lysander.

Hele. How happy some, ore othersome can be? Through Athens I am thought as faire as she. But what of that? Demetrius thinkes not so: He will not know, what all, but he doth know, And as hee erres, doting on Hermias eyes; So I, admiring of his qualities: Things base and vilde, holding no quantity, Loue can transpose to forme and dignity, Loue lookes not with the eyes, but with the minde, And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blinde. Nor hath loues minde of any iudgement taste: Wings and no eyes, figure, vnheedy haste. And therefore is Loue said to be a childe, Because in choise he is often beguil'd, As waggish boyes in game themselues forsweare; So the boy Loue is periur'd euery where. For ere Demetrius lookt on Hermias eyne, He hail'd downe oathes that he was onely mine. And when this Haile some heat from Hermia felt, So he dissolu'd, and showres of oathes did melt, I will goe tell him of faire Hermias flight: Then to the wood will he, to morrow night Pursue her; and for his intelligence, If I haue thankes, it is a deere expence: But heerein meane I to enrich my paine, To haue his sight thither, and backe againe. Enter.

Enter Quince the Carpenter, Snug the Ioyner, Bottome the Weauer, Flute the bellowes-mender, Snout the Tinker, and Starueling the Taylor.

Quin. Is all our company heere? Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by man according to the scrip

Qui. Here is the scrowle of euery mans name, which is thought fit through all Athens, to play in our Enterlude before the Duke and the Dutches, on his wedding day at night

Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on: then read the names of the Actors: and so grow on to a point

Quin. Marry our play is the most lamentable comedy, and most cruell death of Pyramus and Thisbie

Bot. A very good peece of worke I assure you, and a merry. Now good Peter Quince, call forth your Actors by the scrowle. Masters spread your selues

Quince. Answere as I call you. Nick Bottome the Weauer

Bottome. Ready; name what part I am for, and proceed

Quince. You Nicke Bottome are set downe for Pyramus

Bot. What is Pyramus, a louer, or a tyrant? Quin. A Louer that kills himselfe most gallantly for loue

Bot. That will aske some teares in the true performing of it: if I do it, let the audience looke to their eies: I will mooue stormes; I will condole in some measure. To the rest yet, my chiefe humour is for a tyrant. I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to teare a Cat in, to make all split the raging Rocks; and shiuering shocks shall break the locks of prison gates, and Phibbus carre shall shine from farre, and make and marre the foolish Fates. This was lofty. Now name the rest of the Players. This is Ercles vaine, a tyrants vaine: a louer is more condoling

Quin. Francis Flute the Bellowes-mender

Flu. Heere Peter Quince

Quin. You must take Thisbie on you

Flut. What is Thisbie, a wandring Knight? Quin. It is the Lady that Pyramus must loue

Flut. Nay faith, let not mee play a woman, I haue a beard comming

Qui. That's all one, you shall play it in a Maske, and you may speake as small as you will

Bot. And I may hide my face, let me play Thisbie too: Ile speake in a monstrous little voyce; Thisne, Thisne, ah Pyramus my louer deare, thy Thisbie deare, and Lady deare

Quin. No no, you must play Pyramus, and Flute, you Thisby

Bot. Well, proceed

Qu. Robin Starueling the Taylor

Star. Heere Peter Quince

Quince. Robin Starueling, you must play Thisbies mother? Tom Snowt, the Tinker

Snowt. Heere Peter Quince

Quin. you, Pyramus father; my self, Thisbies father; Snugge the Ioyner, you the Lyons part: and I hope there is a play fitted

Snug. Haue you the Lions part written? pray you if be, giue it me, for I am slow of studie

Quin. You may doe it extemporie, for it is nothing but roaring

Bot. Let mee play the Lyon too, I will roare that I will doe any mans heart good to heare me. I will roare, that I will make the Duke say, Let him roare againe, let him roare againe

Quin. If you should do it too terribly, you would fright the Dutchesse and the Ladies, that they would shrike, and that were enough to hang us all

All. That would hang vs euery mothers sonne

Bottome. I graunt you friends, if that you should fright the Ladies out of their Wittes, they would haue no more discretion but to hang vs: but I will aggrauate my voyce so, that I will roare you as gently as any sucking Doue; I will roare and 'twere any Nightingale

Quin. You can play no part but Piramus, for Piramus is a sweet-fac'd man, a proper man as one shall see in a summers day; a most louely Gentleman-like man, therfore you must needs play Piramus

Bot. Well, I will vndertake it. What beard were I best to play it in? Quin. Why, what you will

Bot. I will discharge it, in either your straw-colour beard, your orange tawnie beard, your purple in graine beard, or your French-crowne colour'd beard, your perfect yellow

Quin. Some of your French Crownes haue no haire at all, and then you will play bare-fac'd. But masters here are your parts, and I am to intreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them by too morrow night: and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the Towne, by Moone-light, there we will rehearse: for if we meete in the Citie, we shalbe dog'd with company, and our deuises knowne. In the meane time, I wil draw a bil of properties, such as our play wants. I pray you faile me not

Bottom. We will meete, and there we may rehearse more obscenely and couragiously. Take paines, be perfect, adieu

Quin. At the Dukes oake we meete

Bot. Enough, hold or cut bow-strings.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus.

Enter a Fairie at one dore, and Robin goodfellow at another.

Rob. How now spirit, whether wander you? Fai. Ouer hil, ouer dale, through bush, through briar, Ouer parke, ouer pale, through flood, through fire, I do wander euerie where, swifter then y Moons sphere; And I serue the Fairy Queene, to dew her orbs vpon the green. The Cowslips tall, her pensioners bee, In their gold coats, spots you see, Those be Rubies, Fairie fauors, In those freckles, liue their sauors, I must go seeke some dew drops heere, And hang a pearle in euery cowslips eare. Farewell thou Lob of spirits, Ile be gon, Our Queene and all her Elues come heere anon

Rob. The King doth keepe his Reuels here to night, Take heed the Queene come not within his sight, For Oberon is passing fell and wrath, Because that she, as her attendant, hath A louely boy stolne from an Indian King, She neuer had so sweet a changeling, And iealous Oberon would haue the childe Knight of his traine, to trace the Forrests wilde. But she (perforce) with-holds the loued boy, Crownes him with flowers, and makes him all her ioy. And now they neuer meete in groue, or greene, By fountaine cleere, or spangled star-light sheene, But they do square, that all their Elues for feare Creepe into Acorne cups and hide them there

Fai. Either I mistake your shape and making quite, Or else you are that shrew'd and knauish spirit Cal'd Robin Good-fellow. Are you not hee, That frights the maidens of the Villagree, Skim milke, and sometimes labour in the querne, And bootlesse make the breathlesse huswife cherne, And sometime make the drinke to beare no barme, Misleade night-wanderers, laughing at their harme, Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Pucke, You do their worke, and they shall haue good lucke. Are not you he? Rob. Thou speak'st aright; I am that merrie wanderer of the night: I iest to Oberon, and make him smile, When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, Neighing in likenesse of a silly foale, And sometime lurke I in a Gossips bole, In very likenesse of a roasted crab: And when she drinkes, against her lips I bob, And on her withered dewlop poure the Ale. The wisest Aunt telling the saddest tale, Sometime for three-foot stoole, mistaketh me, Then slip I from her bum, downe topples she, And tailour cries, and fals into a coffe. And then the whole quire hold their hips, and loffe, And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and sweare, A merrier houre was neuer wasted there. But roome Fairy, heere comes Oberon

Fair. And heere my Mistris: Would that he were gone. Enter the King of Fairies at one doore with his traine, and the Queene at another with hers.

Ob. Ill met by Moone-light. Proud Tytania

Qu. What, iealous Oberon? Fairy skip hence. I haue forsworne his bed and companie

Ob. Tarrie rash Wanton; am not I thy Lord? Qu. Then I must be thy Lady: but I know When thou wast stolne away from Fairy Land, And in the shape of Corin, sate all day, Playing on pipes of Corne, and versing loue To amorous Phillida. Why art thou heere Come from the farthest steepe of India? But that forsooth the bouncing Amazon Your buskin'd Mistresse, and your Warrior loue, To Theseus must be Wedded; and you come, To giue their bed ioy and prosperitie

Ob. How canst thou thus for shame Tytania. Glance at my credite, with Hippolita? Knowing I know thy loue to Theseus? Didst thou not leade him through the glimmering night From Peregenia, whom he rauished? And make him with faire Eagles breake his faith With Ariadne, and Antiopa? Que. These are the forgeries of iealousie, And neuer since the middle Summers spring Met we on hil, in dale, forrest, or mead, By paued fountaine, or by rushie brooke, Or in the beached margent of the sea, To dance our ringlets to the whistling Winde, But with thy braules thou hast disturb'd our sport. Therefore the Windes, piping to vs in vaine, As in reuenge, haue suck'd vp from the sea Contagious fogges: Which falling in the Land, Hath euerie petty Riuer made so proud, That they haue ouer-borne their Continents. The Oxe hath therefore stretch'd his yoake in vaine, The Ploughman lost his sweat, and the greene Corne Hath rotted, ere his youth attain'd a beard: The fold stands empty in the drowned field, And Crowes are fatted with the murrion flocke, The nine mens Morris is fild vp with mud, And the queint Mazes in the wanton greene, For lacke of tread are vndistinguishable. The humane mortals want their winter heere, No night is now with hymne or caroll blest; Therefore the Moone (the gouernesse of floods) Pale in her anger, washes all the aire; That Rheumaticke diseases doe abound. And through this distemperature, we see The seasons alter; hoared headed Frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson Rose, And on old Hyems chinne and Icie crowne, An odorous Chaplet of sweet Sommer buds Is as in mockry set. The Spring, the Sommer, The childing Autumne, angry Winter change Their wonted Liueries, and the mazed world, By their increase, now knowes not which is which; And this same progeny of euills, Comes from our debate, from our dissention, We are their parents and originall

Ober. Do you amend it then, it lies in you, Why should Titania crosse her Oberon? I do but beg a little changeling boy, To be my Henchman

Qu. Set your heart at rest, The Fairy land buyes not the childe of me, His mother was a Votresse of my Order, And in the spiced Indian aire, by night Full often hath she gossipt by my side, And sat with me on Neptunes yellow sands, Marking th' embarked traders on the flood, When we haue laught to see the sailes conceiue, And grow big bellied with the wanton winde: Which she with pretty and with swimming gate, Following (her wombe then rich with my yong squire) Would imitate, and saile vpon the Land, To fetch me trifles, and returne againe, As from a voyage, rich with merchandize. But she being mortall, of that boy did die, And for her sake I doe reare vp her boy, And for her sake I will not part with him

Ob. How long within this wood intend you stay? Qu. Perchance till after Theseus wedding day. If you will patiently dance in our Round, And see our Moone-light reuels, goe with vs; If not, shun me and I will spare your haunts

Ob. Giue me that boy, and I will goe with thee

Qu. Not for thy Fairy Kingdome. Fairies away: We shall chide downe right, if I longer stay.

Exeunt

Ob. Wel, go thy way: thou shalt not from this groue, Till I torment thee for this iniury. My gentle Pucke come hither; thou remembrest Since once I sat vpon a promontory, And heard a Meare-maide on a Dolphins backe, Vttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew ciuill at her song, And certaine starres shot madly from their Spheares, To heare the Sea-maids musicke

Puc. I remember

Ob. That very time I say (but thou couldst not) Flying betweene the cold Moone and the earth, Cupid all arm'd; a certaine aime he tooke At a faire Vestall, throned by the West, And loos'd his loue-shaft smartly from his bow, As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts, But I might see young Cupids fiery shaft Quencht in the chaste beames of the watry Moone; And the imperiall Votresse passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy free. Yet markt I where the bolt of Cupid fell. It fell vpon a little westerne flower; Before, milke-white: now purple with loues wound, And maidens call it, Loue in idlenesse. Fetch me that flower; the hearb I shew'd thee once, The iuyce of it, on sleeping eye-lids laid, Will make or man or woman madly dote Vpon the next liue creature that it sees. Fetch me this hearbe, and be thou heere againe, Ere the Leuiathan can swim a league

Pucke. Ile put a girdle about the earth, in forty minutes

Ober. Hauing once this iuyce, Ile watch Titania, when she is asleepe, And drop the liquor of it in her eyes: The next thing when she waking lookes vpon, (Be it on Lyon, Beare, or Wolfe, or Bull, On medling Monkey, or on busie Ape) Shee shall pursue it, with the soule of loue. And ere I take this charme off from her sight, (As I can take it with another hearbe) Ile make her render vp her Page to me. But who comes heere? I am inuisible, And I will ouer-heare their conference. Enter Demetrius, Helena following him.

Deme. I loue thee not, therefore pursue me not, Where is Lysander, and faire Hermia? The one Ile stay, the other stayeth me. Thou toldst me they were stolne into this wood; And heere am I, and wood within this wood, Because I cannot meet my Hermia. Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more

Hel. You draw me, you hard-hearted Adamant, But yet you draw not Iron, for my heart Is true as steele. Leaue you your power to draw, And I shall haue no power to follow you

Deme. Do I entice you? do I speake you faire? Or rather doe I not in plainest truth, Tell you I doe not, nor I cannot loue you? Hel. And euen for that doe I loue thee the more; I am your spaniell, and Demetrius, The more you beat me, I will fawne on you. Vse me but as your spaniell; spurne me, strike me, Neglect me, lose me; onely giue me leaue (Vnworthy as I am) to follow you. What worser place can I beg in your loue, (And yet a place of high respect with me) Then to be vsed as you doe your dogge

Dem. Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit, For I am sicke when I do looke on thee

Hel. And I am sicke when I looke not on you

Dem. You doe impeach your modesty too much, To leaue the Citty, and commit your selfe Into the hands of one that loues you not, To trust the opportunity of night. And the ill counsell of a desert place, With the rich worth of your virginity

Hel. Your vertue is my priuiledge: for that It is not night when I doe see your face. Therefore I thinke I am not in the night, Nor doth this wood lacke worlds of company, For you in my respect are all the world. Then how can it be said I am alone, When all the world is heere to looke on me? Dem. Ile run from thee, and hide me in the brakes, And leaue thee to the mercy of wilde beasts

Hel. The wildest hath not such a heart as you; Runne when you will, the story shall be chang'd: Apollo flies and Daphne holds the chase; The Doue pursues the Griffin, the milde Hinde Makes speed to catch the Tyger. Bootlesse speede, When cowardise pursues, and valour flies

Demet. I will not stay thy questions, let me go; Or if thou follow me, doe not beleeue, But I shall doe thee mischiefe in the wood

Hel. I, in the Temple, in the Towne, and Field You doe me mischiefe. Fye Demetrius, Your wrongs doe set a scandall on my sexe: We cannot fight for loue, as men may doe; We should be woo'd, and were not made to wooe. I follow thee, and make a heauen of hell, To die vpon the hand I loue so well. Enter.

Ob. Fare thee well Nymph, ere he do leaue this groue, Thou shalt flie him, and he shall seeke thy loue. Hast thou the flower there? Welcome wanderer. Enter Pucke.

Puck. I there it is

Ob. I pray thee giue it me. I know a banke where the wilde time blowes, Where Oxslips and the nodding Violet growes, Quite ouer-cannoped with luscious woodbine, With sweet muske roses, and with Eglantine; There sleepes Tytania, sometime of the night, Lul'd in these flowers, with dances and delight: And there the snake throwes her enammel'd skinne, Weed wide enough to rap a Fairy in. And with the iuyce of this Ile streake her eyes, And make her full of hatefull fantasies. Take thou some of it, and seek through this groue; A sweet Athenian Lady is in loue With a disdainefull youth: annoint his eyes, But doe it when the next thing he espies, May be the Lady. Thou shalt know the man, By the Athenian garments he hath on. Effect it with some care, that he may proue More fond on her, then she vpon her loue; And looke thou meet me ere the first Cocke crow

Pu. Feare not my Lord, your seruant shall do so. Enter.

Enter Queene of Fairies, with her traine.

Queen. Come, now a Roundell, and a Fairy song; Then for the third part of a minute hence, Some to kill Cankers in the muske rose buds, Some warre with Reremise, for their leathern wings. To make my small Elues coates, and some keepe backe The clamorous Owle that nightly hoots and wonders At our queint spirits: Sing me now asleepe, Then to your offices, and let me rest

Fairies Sing. You spotted Snakes with double tongue, Thorny Hedgehogges be not seene, Newts and blinde wormes do no wrong, Come not neere our Fairy Queene. Philomele with melodie, Sing in your sweet Lullaby. Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby, Neuer harme, nor spell, nor charme, Come our louely Lady nye, So good night with Lullaby

2.Fairy. Weauing Spiders come not heere, Hence you long leg'd Spinners, hence: Beetles blacke approach not neere; Worme nor Snayle doe no offence. Philomele with melody, &c

1.Fairy. Hence away, now all is well; One aloofe, stand Centinell.

Shee sleepes.

Enter Oberon.

Ober. What thou seest when thou dost wake, Do it for thy true Loue take: Loue and languish for his sake. Be it Ounce, or Catte, or Beare, Pard, or Boare with bristled haire, In thy eye that shall appeare, When thou wak'st, it is thy deare, Wake when some vile thing is neere. Enter Lisander and Hermia.

Lis. Faire loue, you faint with wandring in y woods, And to speake troth I haue forgot our way: Wee'll rest vs Hermia, If you thinke it good, And tarry for the comfort of the day

Her. Be it so Lysander; finde you out a bed, For I vpon this banke will rest my head

Lys. One turfe shall serue as pillow for vs both, One heart, one bed, two bosomes, and one troth

Her. Nay good Lysander, for my sake my deere Lie further off yet, doe not lie so neere

Lys. O take the sence sweet, of my innocence, Loue takes the meaning, in loues conference, I meane that my heart vnto yours is knit, So that but one heart can you make of it. Two bosomes interchanged with an oath, So then two bosomes, and a single troth. Then by your side, no bed-roome me deny, For lying so, Hermia, I doe not lye

Her. Lysander riddles very prettily; Now much beshrew my manners and my pride, If Hermia meant to say, Lysander lied. But gentle friend, for loue and courtesie Lie further off, in humane modesty, Such separation, as may well be said, Becomes a vertuous batchelour, and a maide, So farre be distant, and good night sweet friend; Thy loue nere alter, till thy sweet life end

Lys. Amen, amen, to that faire prayer, say I, And then end life, when I end loyalty: Heere is my bed, sleepe giue thee all his rest

Her. With halfe that wish, the wishers eyes be prest. Enter Pucke. They sleepe.

Puck. Through the Forest haue I gone, But Athenian finde I none, One whose eyes I might approue This flowers force in stirring loue. Nigh and silence: who is heere? Weedes of Athens he doth weare: This is he (my master said) Despised the Athenian maide: And heere the maiden sleeping sound, On the danke and durty ground. Pretty soule, she durst not lye Neere this lacke-loue, this kill-curtesie. Churle, vpon thy eyes I throw All the power this charme doth owe: When thou wak'st, let loue forbid Sleepe his seate on thy eye-lid. So awake when I am gone: For I must now to Oberon. Enter.

Enter Demetrius and Helena running.

Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sweete Demetrius

De. I charge thee hence, and do not haunt me thus

Hel. O wilt thou darkling leaue me? do not so

De. Stay on thy perill, I alone will goe.

Exit Demetrius.

Hel. O I am out of breath, in this fond chace, The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace, Happy is Hermia, wheresoere she lies; For she hath blessed and attractiue eyes. How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt teares. If so, my eyes are oftner washt then hers. No, no, I am as vgly as a Beare; For beasts that meete me, runne away for feare, Therefore no maruaile, though Demetrius Doe as a monster, flie my presence thus. What wicked and dissembling glasse of mine, Made me compare with Hermias sphery eyne? But who is here? Lysander on the ground; Deade or asleepe? I see no bloud, no wound, Lysander, if you liue, good sir awake

Lys. And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake. Transparent Helena, nature her shewes art, That through thy bosome makes me see thy heart. Where is Demetrius? oh how fit a word Is that vile name, to perish on my sword! Hel. Do not say so Lysander, say not so: What though he loue your Hermia? Lord, what though? Yet Hermia still loues you; then be content

Lys. Content with Hermia? no, I do repent The tedious minutes I with her haue spent. Not Hermia, but Helena now I loue; Who will not change a Rauen for a Doue? The will of man is by his reason sway'd: And reason saies you are the worthier Maide. Things growing are not ripe vntill their season; So I being yong, till now ripe not to reason, And touching now the point of humane skill, Reason becomes the Marshall to my will. And leades me to your eyes, where I orelooke Loues stories, written in Loues richest booke

Hel. Wherefore was I to this keene mockery borne? When at your hands did I deserue this scorne? Ist not enough, ist not enough, yong man, That I did neuer, no nor neuer can, Deserue a sweete looke from Demetrius eye, But you must flout my insufficiency? Good troth you do me wrong (good-sooth you do) In such disdainfull manner, me to wooe. But fare you well; perforce I must confesse, I thought you Lord of more true gentlenesse. Oh, that a Lady of one man refus'd, Should of another therefore be abus'd. Enter

Lys. She sees not Hermia: Hermia sleepe thou there, And neuer maist thou come Lysander neere; For as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomacke brings: Or as the heresies that men do leaue, Are hated most of those that did deceiue: So thou, my surfeit, and my heresie, Of all be hated; but the most of me; And all my powers addresse your loue and might, To honour Helen, and to be her Knight. Enter.

Her. Helpe me Lysander, helpe me; do thy best To plucke this crawling serpent from my brest. Aye me, for pitty; what a dreame was here? Lysander looke, how I do quake with feare: Me-thought a serpent eate my heart away, And yet sat smiling at his cruell prey. Lysander, What remoou'd? Lysander, Lord, What, out of hearing, gone? No sound, no word? Alacke where are you? speake and if you heare: Speake of all loues; I sound almost with feare. No, then I well perceiue you are not nye, Either death or you Ile finde immediately. Enter.

Actus Tertius.

Enter the Clownes.

Bot. Are we all met? Quin. Pat, pat, and here's a maruailous conuenient place for our rehearsall. This greene plot shall be our stage, this hauthorne brake our tyring house, and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the Duke

Bot. Peter Quince? Peter. What saist thou, bully Bottome? Bot. There are things in this Comedy of Piramus and Thisby, that will neuer please. First, Piramus must draw a sword to kill himselfe; which the Ladies cannot abide. How answere you that? Snout. Berlaken, a parlous feare

Star. I beleeue we must leaue the killing out, when all is done

Bot. Not a whit, I haue a deuice to make all well. Write me a Prologue, and let the Prologue seeme to say, we will do no harme with our swords, and that Pyramus is not kill'd indeede: and for the more better assurance, tell them, that I Piramus am not Piramus, but Bottome the Weauer; this will put them out of feare

Quin. Well, we will haue such a Prologue, and it shall be written in eight and sixe

Bot. No, make it two more, let it be written in eight and eight

Snout. Will not the Ladies be afear'd of the Lyon? Star. I feare it, I promise you

Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with your selues, to bring in (God shield vs) a Lyon among Ladies, is a most dreadfull thing. For there is not a more fearefull wilde foule then your Lyon liuing: and wee ought to looke to it

Snout. Therefore another Prologue must tell he is not a Lyon

Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and halfe his face must be seene through the Lyons necke, and he himselfe must speake through, saying thus, or to the same defect; Ladies, or faire Ladies, I would wish you, or I would request you, or I would entreat you, not to feare, not to tremble: my life for yours. If you thinke I come hither as a Lyon, it were pitty of my life. No, I am no such thing, I am a man as other men are; and there indeed let him name his name, and tell him plainly hee is Snug the ioyner

Quin. Well, it shall be so; but there is two hard things, that is, to bring the Moone-light into a chamber: for you know Piramus and Thisby meete by Moonelight

Sn. Doth the Moone shine that night wee play our play? Bot. A Calender, a Calender, looke in the Almanack, finde out Moone-shine, finde out Moone-shine. Enter Pucke.

Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night

Bot. Why then may you leaue a casement of the great chamber window (where we play) open, and the Moone may shine in at the casement

Quin. I, or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lanthorne, and say he comes to disfigure, or to present the person of Moone-shine. Then there is another thing, we must haue a wall in the great Chamber; for Piramus and Thisby (saies the story) did talke through the chinke of a wall

Sn. You can neuer bring in a wall. What say you Bottome? Bot. Some man or other must present wall, and let him haue some Plaster, or some Lome, or some rough cast about him, to signifie wall; or let him hold his fingers thus; and through that cranny shall Piramus and Thisby whisper

Quin. If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit downe euery mothers sonne, and rehearse your parts. Piramus, you begin; when you haue spoken your speech, enter into that Brake, and so euery one according to his cue. Enter Robin.

Rob. What hempen home-spuns haue we swaggering here, So neere the Cradle of the Faierie Queene? What, a Play toward? Ile be an auditor, An Actor too perhaps, if I see cause

Quin. Speake Piramus: Thisby stand forth

Pir. Thisby, the flowers of odious sauors sweete

Quin. Odours, odours

Pir. Odours sauors sweete, So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby deare. But harke, a voyce: stay thou but here a while, And by and by I will to thee appeare.

Exit. Pir.

Puck. A stranger Piramus, then ere plaid here

This. Must I speake now? Pet. I marry must you. For you must vnderstand he goes but to see a noyse that he heard, and is to come againe

Thys. Most radiant Piramus, most Lilly white of hue, Of colour like the red rose on triumphant bryer, Most brisky Iuuenall, and eke most louely Iew, As true as truest horse, that yet would neuer tyre, Ile meete thee Piramus, at Ninnies toombe

Pet. Ninus toombe man: why, you must not speake that yet; that you answere to Piramus: you speake all your part at once, cues and all. Piramus enter, your cue is past; it is neuer tyre

Thys. O, as true as truest horse, that yet would neuer tyre: Pir. If I were faire, Thisby I were onely thine

Pet. O monstrous. O strange. We are hanted; pray masters, flye masters, helpe.

The Clownes all Exit.

Puk. Ile follow you, Ile leade you about a Round, Through bogge, through bush, through brake, through bryer, Sometime a horse Ile be, sometime a hound: A hogge, a headlesse beare, sometime a fire, And neigh, and barke, and grunt, and rore, and burne, Like horse, hound, hog, beare, fire, at euery turne. Enter.

Enter Piramus with the Asse head.

Bot. Why do they run away? This is a knauery of them to make me afeard. Enter Snowt

Sn. O Bottom, thou art chang'd; What doe I see on thee? Bot. What do you see? You see an Asse-head of your owne, do you? Enter Peter Quince.

Pet. Blesse thee Bottome, blesse thee; thou art translated. Enter.

Bot. I see their knauery; this is to make an asse of me, to fright me if they could; but I will not stirre from this place, do what they can. I will walke vp and downe here, and I will sing that they shall heare I am not afraid. The Woosell cocke, so blacke of hew, With Orenge-tawny bill. The Throstle, with his note so true, The Wren and little quill

Tyta. What Angell wakes me from my flowry bed? Bot. The Finch, the Sparrow, and the Larke, The plainsong Cuckow gray; Whose note full many a man doth marke, And dares not answere, nay. For indeede, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird? Who would giue a bird the lye, though he cry Cuckow, neuer so? Tyta. I pray thee gentle mortall, sing againe, Mine eare is much enamored of thy note; On the first view to say, to sweare I loue thee. So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape. And thy faire vertues force (perforce) doth moue me

Bot. Me-thinkes mistresse, you should haue little reason for that: and yet to say the truth, reason and loue keepe little company together, nowadayes. The more the pittie, that some honest neighbours will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleeke vpon occasion

Tyta. Thou art as wise, as thou art beautifull

Bot. Not so neither: but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I haue enough to serue mine owne turne

Tyta. Out of this wood, do not desire to goe, Thou shalt remaine here, whether thou wilt or no. I am a spirit of no common rate: The Summer still doth tend vpon my state, And I doe loue thee; therefore goe with me, Ile giue thee Fairies to attend on thee; And they shall fetch thee Iewels from the deepe, And sing, while thou on pressed flowers dost sleepe: And I will purge thy mortall grossenesse so, That thou shalt like an airie spirit go. Enter Pease-blossome, Cobweb, Moth, Mustardseede, and foure Fairies.

Fai. Ready; and I, and I, and I, Where shall we go? Tita. Be kinde and curteous to this Gentleman, Hop in his walkes, and gambole in his eies, Feede him with Apricocks, and Dewberries, With purple Grapes, greene Figs, and Mulberries, The honie-bags steale from the humble Bees, And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighes, And light them at the fierie-Glow-wormes eyes, To haue my loue to bed, and to arise: And plucke the wings from painted Butterflies, To fan the Moone-beames from his sleeping eies. Nod to him Elues, and doe him curtesies

1.Fai. Haile mortall, haile

2.Fai. Haile

3.Fai. Haile

Bot. I cry your worships mercy hartily; I beseech your worships name

Cob. Cobweb

Bot. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Cobweb: if I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you. Your name honest Gentleman? Pease. Pease Blossome

Bot. I pray you commend me to mistresse Squash, your mother, and to master Peascod your father. Good master Pease-blossome, I shal desire of you more acquaintance to. Your name I beseech you sir? Mus. Mustard-seede

Peas. Pease-blossome

Bot. Good master Mustard seede, I know your patience well: that same cowardly gyant-like Oxe beefe hath deuoured many a gentleman of your house. I promise you, your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire you more acquaintance, good Master Mustard-seede

Tita. Come waite vpon him, lead him to my bower. The Moone me-thinks, lookes with a watrie eie, And when she weepes, weepe euerie little flower, Lamenting some enforced chastitie. Tye vp my louers tongue, bring him silently. Enter.

Enter King of Pharies, solus.

Ob. I wonder if Titania be awak't; Then what it was that next came in her eye, Which she must dote on, in extremitie. Enter Pucke.

Here comes my messenger: how now mad spirit, What night-rule now about this haunted groue? Puck. My Mistris with a monster is in loue, Neere to her close and consecrated bower, While she was in her dull and sleeping hower, A crew of patches, rude Mechanicals, That worke for bread vpon Athenian stals, Were met together to rehearse a Play, Intended for great Theseus nuptiall day: The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort, Who Piramus presented, in their sport, Forsooke his Scene, and entred in a brake, When I did him at this aduantage take, An Asses nole I fixed on his head. Anon his Thisbie must be answered, And forth my Mimmick comes: when they him spie, As Wilde-geese, that the creeping Fowler eye, Or russed-pated choughes, many in sort (Rising and cawing at the guns report) Seuer themselues, and madly sweepe the skye: So at his sight, away his fellowes flye, And at our stampe, here ore and ore one fals; He murther cries, and helpe from Athens cals. Their sense thus weake, lost with their feares thus strong, Made senslesse things begin to do them wrong. For briars and thornes at their apparell snatch, Some sleeues, some hats, from yeelders all things catch, I led them on in this distracted feare, And left sweete Piramus translated there: When in that moment (so it came to passe) Tytania waked, and straightway lou'd an Asse

Ob. This fals out better then I could deuise: But hast thou yet lacht the Athenians eyes, With the loue iuyce, as I bid thee doe? Rob. I tooke him sleeping (that is finisht to) And the Athenian woman by his side, That when he wak't, of force she must be eyde. Enter Demetrius and Hermia.

Ob. Stand close, this is the same Athenian

Rob. This is the woman, but not this the man

Dem. O why rebuke you him that loues you so? Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe

Her. Now I but chide, but I should vse thee worse. For thou (I feare) hast giuen me cause to curse, If thou hast slaine Lysander in his sleepe, Being oreshooes in bloud, plunge in the deepe, and kill me too: The Sunne was not so true vnto the day, As he to me. Would he haue stollen away, From sleeping Hermia? Ile beleeue as soone This whole earth may be bord, and that the Moone May through the Center creepe, and so displease Her brothers noonetide, with th'Antipodes. It cannot be but thou hast murdred him, So should a murtherer looke, so dead, so grim

Dem. So should the murderer looke, and so should I, Pierst through the heart with your stearne cruelty: Yet you the murderer lookes as bright as cleare, As yonder Venus in her glimmering spheare

Her. What's this to my Lysander? where is he? Ah good Demetrius, wilt thou giue him me? Dem. I'de rather giue his carkasse to my hounds

Her. Out dog, out cur, thou driu'st me past the bounds Of maidens patience. Hast thou slaine him then? Henceforth be neuer numbred among men. Oh, once tell true, euen for my sake, Durst thou a lookt vpon him, being awake? And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O braue tutch: Could not a worme, an Adder do so much? An Adder did it: for with doubler tongue Then thine (thou serpent) neuer Adder stung

Dem. You spend your passion on a mispris'd mood, I am not guiltie of Lysanders blood: Nor is he dead for ought that I can tell

Her. I pray thee tell me then that he is well

Dem. And if I could, what should I get therefore? Her. A priuiledge, neuer to see me more; And from thy hated presence part I: see me no more Whether he be dead or no. Enter.

Dem. There is no following her in this fierce vaine, Here therefore for a while I will remaine. So sorrowes heauinesse doth heauier grow: For debt that bankrout slip doth sorrow owe, Which now in some slight measure it will pay, If for his tender here I make some stay.

Lie downe.

Ob. What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken quite And laid the loue iuyce on some true loues sight: Of thy misprision, must perforce ensue Some true loue turn'd, and not a false turn'd true

Rob. Then fate ore-rules, that one man holding troth, A million faile, confounding oath on oath

Ob. About the wood, goe swifter then the winde, And Helena of Athens looke thou finde. All fancy sicke she is, and pale of cheere, With sighes of loue, that costs the fresh bloud deare. By some illusion see thou bring her heere, Ile charme his eyes against she doth appeare

Robin. I go, I go, looke how I goe, Swifter then arrow from the Tartars bowe. Enter.

Ob. Flower of this purple die, Hit with Cupids archery, Sinke in apple of his eye, When his loue he doth espie, Let her shine as gloriously As the Venus of the sky. When thou wak'st if she be by, Beg of her for remedy. Enter Pucke.

Puck. Captaine of our Fairy band, Helena is heere at hand, And the youth, mistooke by me, Pleading for a Louers fee. Shall we their fond Pageant see? Lord, what fooles these mortals be! Ob. Stand aside: the noyse they make, Will cause Demetrius to awake

Puck. Then will two at once wooe one, That must needs be sport alone: And those things doe best please me, That befall preposterously. Enter Lysander and Helena.

Lys. Why should you think y I should wooe in scorn? Scorne and derision neuer comes in teares: Looke when I vow I weepe; and vowes so borne, In their natiuity all truth appeares. How can these things in me, seeme scorne to you? Bearing the badge of faith to proue them true

Hel. You doe aduance your cunning more & more, When truth kils truth, O diuelish holy fray! These vowes are Hermias. Will you giue her ore? Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh. Your vowes to her, and me, (put in two scales) Will euen weigh, and both as light as tales

Lys. I had no iudgement, when to her I swore

Hel. Nor none in my minde, now you giue her ore

Lys. Demetrius loues her, and he loues not you.

Awa.

Dem. O Helen, goddesse, nimph, perfect, diuine, To what, my loue, shall I compare thine eyne! Christall is muddy, O how ripe in show, Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow! That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow, Fan'd with the Easterne winde, turnes to a crow, When thou holdst vp thy hand. O let me kisse This Princesse of pure white, this seale of blisse

Hell. O spight! O hell! I see you are all bent To set against me, for your merriment: If you were ciuill, and knew curtesie, You would not doe me thus much iniury. Can you not hate me, as I know you doe, But you must ioyne in soules to mocke me to? If you are men, as men you are in show, You would not vse a gentle Lady so; To vow, and sweare, and superpraise my parts, When I am sure you hate me with your hearts. You both are Riuals, and loue Hermia; And now both Riuals to mocke Helena. A trim exploit, a manly enterprize, To coniure teares vp in a poore maids eyes, With your derision; none of noble sort, Would so offend a Virgin, and extort A poore soules patience, all to make you sport, Lysa. You are vnkind Demetrius; be not so, For you loue Hermia; this you know I know; And here with all good will, with all my heart, In Hermias loue I yeeld you vp my part; And yours of Helena, To me bequeath, Whom I do loue, and will do to my death

Hel. Neuer did mockers wast more idle breth

Dem. Lysander, keep thy Hermia, I will none: If ere I lou'd her, all that loue is gone. My heart to her, but as guest-wise soiourn'd, And now to Helen it is home return'd, There to remaine

Lys. It is not so

De. Disparage not the faith thou dost not know, Lest to thy perill thou abide it deare. Looke where thy Loue comes, yonder is thy deare. Enter Hermia.

Her. Dark night, that from the eye his function takes, The eare more quicke of apprehension makes, Wherein it doth impaire the seeing sense, It paies the hearing double recompence. Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander found, Mine eare (I thanke it) brought me to that sound. But why vnkindly didst thou leaue me so? Lysan. Why should hee stay whom Loue doth presse to go? Her. What loue could presse Lysander from my side? Lys. Lysanders loue (that would not let him bide) Faire Helena; who more engilds the night, Then all yon fierie oes, and eies of light. Why seek'st thou me? Could not this make thee know, The hate I bare thee, made me leaue thee so? Her. You speake not as you thinke; it cannot be

Hel. Loe, she is one of this confederacy, Now I perceiue they haue conioyn'd all three, To fashion this false sport in spight of me. Iniurous Hermia, most vngratefull maid, Haue you conspir'd, haue you with these contriu'd To baite me, with this foule derision? Is all the counsell that we two haue shar'd, The sisters vowes, the houres that we haue spent, When wee haue chid the hasty footed time, For parting vs; O, is all forgot? All schooledaies friendship, child-hood innocence? We Hermia, like two Artificiall gods, Haue with our needles, created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, Both warbling of one song, both in one key: As if our hands, our sides, voices, and mindes Had beene incorporate. So we grew together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, But yet a vnion in partition, Two louely berries molded on one stem, So with two seeming bodies, but one heart, Two of the first life coats in Heraldry, Due but to one and crowned with one crest. And will you rent our ancient loue asunder, To ioyne with men in scorning your poore friend? It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly. Our sexe as well as I, may chide you for it, Though I alone doe feele the iniurie

Her. I am amazed at your passionate words, I scorne you not; It seemes that you scorne me

Hel. Haue you not set Lysander, as in scorne To follow me, and praise my eies and face? And made your other loue, Demetrius (Who euen but now did spurne me with his foote) To call me goddesse, nimph, diuine, and rare, Precious, celestiall? Wherefore speakes he this To her he hates? and wherefore doth Lysander Denie your loue (so rich within his soule) And tender me (forsooth) affection, But by your setting on, by your consent? What though I be not so in grace as you, So hung vpon with loue, so fortunate? (But miserable most, to loue vnlou'd) This you should pittie, rather then despise

Her. I vnderstand not what you meane by this

Hel. I, doe, perseuer, counterfeit sad lookes, Make mouthes vpon me when I turne my backe, Winke each at other, hold the sweete iest vp: This sport well carried, shall be chronicled. If you haue any pittie, grace, or manners, You would not make me such an argument: But fare ye well, 'tis partly mine owne fault, Which death or absence soone shall remedie

Lys. Stay gentle Helena, heare my excuse, My loue, my life, my soule, faire Helena

Hel. O excellent! Her. Sweete, do not scorne her so

Dem. If she cannot entreate, I can compell

Lys. Thou canst compell, no more then she entreate. Thy threats haue no more strength then her weak praise. Helen, I loue thee, by my life I doe; I sweare by that which I will lose for thee, To proue him false, that saies I loue thee not

Dem. I say, I loue thee more then he can do

Lys. If thou say so, withdraw and proue it too

Dem. Quick, come

Her. Lysander, whereto tends all this? Lys. Away, you Ethiope

Dem. No, no, Sir, seeme to breake loose; Take on as you would follow, But yet come not: you are a tame man, go

Lys. Hang off thou cat, thou bur; vile thing let loose, Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent

Her. Why are you growne so rude? What change is this sweete Loue? Lys. Thy loue? out tawny Tartar, out; Out loathed medicine; O hated poison hence

Her. Do you not iest? Hel. Yes sooth, and so do you

Lys. Demetrius: I will keepe my word with thee

Dem. I would I had your bond: for I perceiue A weake bond holds you; Ile not trust your word

Lys. What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead? Although I hate her, Ile not harme her so

Her. What, can you do me greater harme then hate? Hate me, wherefore? O me, what newes my Loue? Am not I Hermia? Are not you Lysander? I am as faire now, as I was ere while. Since night you lou'd me: yet since night you left me. Why then you left me (O the gods forbid) In earnest, shall I say? Lys. I, by my life; And neuer did desire to see thee more. Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt; Be certaine, nothing truer: 'tis no iest, That I do hate thee, and loue Helena

Her. O me, you iugler, you canker blossome, You theefe of loue; What, haue you come by night, And stolne my loues heart from him? Hel. Fine yfaith: Haue you no modesty, no maiden shame, No touch of bashfulnesse? What, will you teare Impatient answers from my gentle tongue? Fie, fie, you counterfeit, you puppet, you

Her. Puppet? why so? I, that way goes the game. Now I perceiue that she hath made compare Betweene our statures, she hath vrg'd her height, And with her personage, her tall personage, Her height (forsooth) she hath preuail'd with him. And are you growne so high in his esteeme, Because I am so dwarfish, and so low? How low am I, thou painted May-pole? Speake, How low am I? I am not yet so low, But that my nailes can reach vnto thine eyes

Hel. I pray you though you mocke me, gentlemen, Let her not hurt me; I was neuer curst: I haue no gift at all in shrewishnesse; I am a right maide for my cowardize; Let her not strike me: you perhaps may thinke, Because she is something lower then my selfe, That I can match her

Her. Lower? harke againe

Hel. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me, I euermore did loue you Hermia, Did euer keepe your counsels, neuer wronged you, Saue that in loue vnto Demetrius, I told him of your stealth vnto this wood. He followed you, for loue I followed him, But he hath chid me hence, and threatned me To strike me, spurne me, nay to kill me too; And now, so you will let me quiet go, To Athens will I beare my folly backe, And follow you no further. Let me go. You see how simple, and how fond I am

Her. Why get you gone: who ist that hinders you? Hel. A foolish heart, that I leaue here behinde

Her. What, with Lysander? Her. With Demetrius

Lys. Be not afraid, she shall not harme thee Helena

Dem. No sir, she shall not, though you take her part

Hel. O when she's angry, she is keene and shrewd, She was a vixen when she went to schoole, And though she be but little, she is fierce

Her. Little againe? Nothing but low and little? Why will you suffer her to flout me thus? Let me come to her

Lys. Get you gone you dwarfe, You minimus, of hindring knot-grasse made, You bead, you acorne

Dem. You are too officious, In her behalfe that scornes your seruices. Let her alone, speake not of Helena, Take not her part. For if thou dost intend Neuer so little shew of loue to her, Thou shalt abide it

Lys. Now she holds me not, Now follow if thou dar'st, to try whose right, Of thine or mine is most in Helena

Dem. Follow? Nay, Ile goe with thee cheeke by iowle.

Exit Lysander and Demetrius.

Her. You Mistris, all this coyle is long of you. Nay, goe not backe

Hel. I will not trust you I, Nor longer stay in your curst companie. Your hands then mine, are quicker for a fray, My legs are longer though to runne away. Enter Oberon and Pucke.

Ob. This is thy negligence, still thou mistak'st, Or else committ'st thy knaueries willingly

Puck. Beleeue me, King of shadowes, I mistooke, Did not you tell me, I should know the man, By the Athenian garments he hath on? And so farre blamelesse proues my enterprize, That I haue nointed an Athenians eies, And so farre am I glad, it so did sort, As this their iangling I esteeme a sport

Ob. Thou seest these Louers seeke a place to fight, Hie therefore Robin, ouercast the night, The starrie Welkin couer thou anon, With drooping fogge as blacke as Acheron, And lead these testie Riuals so astray, As one come not within anothers way. Like to Lysander, sometime frame thy tongue, Then stirre Demetrius vp with bitter wrong; And sometime raile thou like Demetrius; And from each other looke thou leade them thus, Till ore their browes, death-counterfeiting, sleepe With leaden legs, and Battie-wings doth creepe: Then crush this hearbe into Lysanders eie, Whose liquor hath this vertuous propertie, To take from thence all error, with his might, and make his eie-bals role with wonted sight. When they next wake, all this derision Shall seeme a dreame, and fruitless vision, And backe to Athens shall the Louers wend With league, whose date till death shall neuer end. Whiles I in this affaire do thee imploy, Ile to my Queene, and beg her Indian Boy; And then I will her charmed eie release From monsters view, and all things shall be peace

Puck. My Fairie Lord, this must be done with haste, For night-swift Dragons cut the Clouds full fast, And yonder shines Auroras harbinger; At whose approach Ghosts wandring here and there, Troope home to Church-yards; damned spirits all, That in crosse-waies and flouds haue buriall, Alreadie to their wormie beds are gone; For feare least day should looke their shames vpon, They wilfully themselues exile from light, And must for aye consort with blacke browd night

Ob. But we are spirits of another sort: I, with the mornings loue haue oft made sport, And like a Forrester, the groues may tread, Euen till the Easterne gate all fierie red, Opening on Neptune, With faire blessed beames, Turnes into yellow gold, his salt greene streames. But not withstanding haste, make no delay: We may effect this businesse, yet ere day

Puck. Vp and downe, vp and downe, I will leade them vp and downe: I am fear'd in field and towne. Goblin, lead them vp and downe: here comes one. Enter Lysander.

Lys. Where art thou, proud Demetrius? Speake thou now

Rob. Here villaine, drawne & readie. Where art thou? Lys. I will be with thee straight

Rob. Follow me then to plainer ground. Enter Demetrius.

Dem. Lysander, speake againe; Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled? Speake in some bush: Where dost thou hide thy head? Rob. Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars, Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars, And wilt not come? Come recreant, come thou childe, Ile whip thee with a rod. He is defil'd That drawes a sword on thee

Dem. Yea, art thou there? Ro. Follow my voice, we'l try no manhood here. Enter.

Lys. He goes before me, and still dares me on, When I come where he cals, then he's gone. The Villaine is much lighter heel'd then I: I followed fast, but faster he did flye;

shifting places.

That fallen am I in darke vneuen way, And here wil rest me. Come thou gentle day:

lye down.

For if but once thou shew me thy gray light, Ile finde Demetrius, and reuenge this spight. Enter Robin and Demetrius.

Rob. Ho, ho, ho; coward, why com'st thou not? Dem. Abide me, if thou dar'st. For well I wot, Thou runst before me, shifting euery place, And dar'st not stand, nor looke me in the face. Where art thou? Rob. Come hither, I am here

Dem. Nay then thou mock'st me; thou shalt buy this deere, If euer I thy face by day-light see. Now goe thy way: faintnesse constraineth me, To measure out my length on this cold bed, By daies approach looke to be visited. Enter Helena.

Hel. O weary night, O long and tedious night, Abate thy houres, shine comforts from the East, That I may backe to Athens by day-light, From these that my poore companie detest; And sleepe that sometime shuts vp sorrowes eie, Steale me a while from mine owne companie.

Sleepe.

Rob. Yet but three? Come one more, Two of both kindes makes vp foure. Here she comes, curst and sad, Cupid is a knauish lad, Enter Hermia.

Thus to make poore females mad

Her. Neuer so wearie, neuer so in woe, Bedabbled with the dew, and torne with briars, I can no further crawle, no further goe; My legs can keepe no pace with my desires. Here will I rest me till the breake of day, Heauens shield Lysander, if they meane a fray

Rob. On the ground sleepe sound, Ile apply your eie gentle louer, remedy. When thou wak'st, thou tak'st True delight in the sight of thy former Ladies eye, And the Country Prouerb knowne, That euery man should take his owne, In your waking shall be showne. Iacke shall haue Iill, nought shall goe ill. The man shall haue his Mare againe, and all shall bee well.

They sleepe all the Act.

Actus Quartus.

Enter Queene of Fairies, and Clowne, and Fairies, and the King behinde them.

Tita. Come, sit thee downe vpon this flowry bed, While I thy amiable cheekes doe coy, And sticke muske roses in thy sleeke smoothe head, And kisse thy faire large eares, my gentle ioy

Clow. Where's Peaseblossome? Peas. Ready

Clow. Scratch my head, Pease-blossome. Wher's Mounsieuer Cobweb

Cob. Ready

Clowne. Mounsieur Cobweb, good Mounsier get your weapons in your hand, & kill me a red hipt humble-Bee, on the top of a thistle; and good Mounsieur bring mee the hony bag. Doe not fret your selfe too much in the action, Mounsieur; and good mounsieur haue a care the hony bag breake not, I would be loth to haue you ouerflowne with a hony-bag signiour. Where's Mounsieur Mustardseed? Mus. Ready

Clo. Giue me your neafe, Mounsieur Mustardseed. Pray you leaue your courtesie good Mounsieur

Mus. What's your will? Clo. Nothing good Mounsieur, but to help Caualery Cobweb to scratch. I must to the Barbers Mounsieur, for me-thinkes I am maruellous hairy about the face. And I am such a tender asse, if my haire do but tickle me, I must scratch

Tita. What, wilt thou heare some musicke, my sweet loue

Clow. I haue a reasonable good eare in musicke. Let vs haue the tongs and the bones.

Musicke Tongs, Rurall Musicke.

Tita. Or say sweete Loue, what thou desirest to eat

Clowne. Truly a pecke of Prouender; I could munch your good dry Oates. Me-thinkes I haue a great desire to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweete hay hath no fellow

Tita. I haue a venturous Fairy, That shall seeke the Squirrels hoard, And fetch thee new Nuts

Clown. I had rather haue a handfull or two of dried pease. But I pray you let none of your people stirre me, I haue an exposition of sleepe come vpon me

Tyta. Sleepe thou, and I will winde thee in my arms, Fairies be gone, and be alwaies away. So doth the woodbine, the sweet Honisuckle, Gently entwist; the female Iuy so Enrings the barky fingers of the Elme. O how I loue thee! how I dote on thee! Enter Robin goodfellow and Oberon.

Ob. Welcome good Robin: Seest thou this sweet sight? Her dotage now I doe begin to pitty. For meeting her of late behinde the wood, Seeking sweet sauours for this hatefull foole, I did vpbraid her, and fall out with her. For she his hairy temples then had rounded, With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers. And that same dew which somtime on the buds, Was wont to swell like round and orient pearles; Stood now within the pretty flouriets eyes, Like teares that did their owne disgrace bewaile. When I had at my pleasure taunted her, And she in milde termes beg'd my patience, I then did aske of her, her changeling childe, Which straight she gaue me, and her fairy sent To beare him to my Bower in Fairy Land. And now I haue the Boy, I will vndoe This hatefull imperfection of her eyes. And gentle Pucke, take this transformed scalpe, From off the head of this Athenian swaine; That he awaking when the other doe, May all to Athens backe againe repaire, And thinke no more of this nights accidents, But as the fierce vexation of dreame. But first I will release the Fairy Queene. Be thou as thou wast wont to be; See as thou wast wont to see. Dians bud, or Cupids flower, Hath such force and blessed power. Now my Titania wake you my sweet Queene

Tita. My Oberon, what visions haue I seene! Me-thought I was enamoured of an asse

Ob. There lies your loue

Tita. How came these things to passe? Oh, how mine eyes doth loath this visage now! Ob. Silence a while. Robin take off his head: Titania, musick call, and strike more dead Then common sleepe; of all these, fine the sense

Tita. Musicke, ho musicke, such as charmeth sleepe.

Musick still.

Rob. When thou wak'st, with thine owne fooles eies peepe

Ob. Sound musick; come my Queen, take hands with me And rocke the ground whereon these sleepers be. Now thou and I new in amity, And will to morrow midnight, solemnly Dance in Duke Theseus house triumphantly, And blesse it to all faire posterity. There shall the paires of faithfull Louers be Wedded, with Theseus, all in iollity

Rob. Faire King attend, and marke, I doe heare the morning Larke, Ob. Then my Queene in silence sad, Trip we after the nights shade; We the Globe can compasse soone, Swifter then the wandering Moone

Tita. Come my Lord, and in our flight, Tell me how it came this night, That I sleeping heere was found,

Sleepers Lye still.

With these mortals on the ground.

Exeunt.

Winde Hornes.

Enter Theseus, Egeus, Hippolita and all his traine.

Thes. Goe one of you, finde out the Forrester, For now our obseruation is perform'd; And since we haue the vaward of the day, My Loue shall heare the musicke of my hounds. Vncouple in the Westerne valley, let them goe; Dispatch I say, and finde the Forrester. We will faire Queene, vp to the Mountains top, And marke the musicall confusion Of hounds and eccho in coniunction

Hip. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once. When in a wood of Creete they bayed the Beare With hounds of Sparta; neuer did I heare Such gallant chiding. For besides the groues, The skies, the fountaines, euery region neere, Seeme all one mutuall cry. I neuer heard So musicall a discord, such sweet thunder

Thes. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kinde, So flew'd, so sanded, and their heads are hung With eares that sweepe away the morning dew, Crooke kneed, and dew-lapt, like Thessalian Buls, Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bels, Each vnder each. A cry more tuneable Was neuer hallowed to, nor cheer'd with horne, In Creete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly; Iudge when you heare. But soft, what nimphs are these? Egeus. My Lord, this is my daughter heere asleepe, And this Lysander, this Demetrius is, This Helena, olde Nedars Helena, I wonder of this being heere together

The. No doubt they rose vp early, to obserue The right of May; and hearing our intent, Came heere in grace of our solemnity. But speake Egeus, is not this the day That Hermia should giue answer of her choice? Egeus. It is, my Lord

Thes. Goe bid the hunts-men wake them with their hornes.

Hornes and they wake.

Shout within, they all start vp.

Thes. Good morrow friends: Saint Valentine is past, Begin these wood birds but to couple now? Lys. Pardon my Lord

Thes. I pray you all stand vp. I know you two are Riuall enemies. How comes this gentle concord in the world, That hatred is so farre from iealousie, To sleepe by hate, and feare no enmity

Lys. My Lord, I shall reply amazedly, Halfe sleepe, halfe waking. but as yet, I sweare, I cannot truly say how I came heere. But as I thinke (for truly would I speake) And now I doe bethinke me, so it is; I came with Hermia hither. Our intent Was to be gone from Athens, where we might be Without the perill of the Athenian Law

Ege. Enough, enough, my Lord: you haue enough; I beg the Law, the Law, vpon his head: They would have stolne away, they would Demetrius, Thereby to haue defeated you and me: You of your wife, and me of my consent; Of my consent, that she should be your wife

Dem. My Lord, faire Helen told me of their stealth, Of this their purpose hither, to this wood, And I in furie hither followed them; Faire Helena, in fancy followed me. But my good Lord, I wot not by what not by what power, (But by some power it is) my loue To Hermia (melted as the snow) Seems to me now as the remembrance of an idle gaude, Which in my childehood I did doat vpon: And all the faith, the vertue of my heart, The obiect and the pleasure of mine eye, Is onely Helena. To her, my Lord, Was I betroth'd, ere I see Hermia, But like a sickenesse did I loath this food, But as in health, come to my naturall taste, Now doe I wish it, loue it, long for it, And will for euermore be true to it

Thes. Faire Louers, you are fortunately met; Of this discourse we shall heare more anon. Egeus, I will ouer-beare your will; For in the Temple, by and by with vs, These couples shall eternally be knit. And for the morning now is something worne, Our purpos'd hunting shall be set aside. Away, with vs to Athens; three and three, Wee'll hold a feast in great solemnitie. Come Hippolita.

Exit Duke and Lords.

Dem. These things seeme small & vndistinguishable, Like farre off mountaines turned into Clouds

Her. Me-thinks I see these things with parted eye, When euery thing seemes double

Hel. So me-thinkes: And I haue found Demetrius, like a iewell, Mine owne, and not mine owne

Dem. It seemes to mee, That yet we sleepe, we dreame. Do not you thinke, The Duke was heere, and bid vs follow him? Her. Yea, and my Father

Hel. And Hippolita

Lys. And he bid vs follow to the Temple

Dem. Why then we are awake; lets follow him, and by the way let vs recount our dreames.

Bottome wakes.

Exit Louers.

Clo. When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer. My next is, most faire Piramus. Hey ho. Peter Quince? Flute the bellowes-mender? Snout the tinker? Starueling? Gods my life! Stolne hence, and left me asleepe: I haue had a most rare vision. I had a dreame, past the wit of man, to say, what dreame it was. Man is but an Asse, if he goe about to expound this dreame. Me-thought I was, there is no man can tell what. Me-thought I was, and me-thought I had. But man is but a patch'd foole, if he will offer to say, what me-thought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the eare of man hath not seen, mans hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceiue, nor his heart to report, what my dreame was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballet of this dreame, it shall be called Bottomes Dreame, because it hath no bottome; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play, before the Duke. Peraduenture, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death. Enter.

Enter Quince, Flute, Thisbie, Snout, and Starueling.

Quin. Haue you sent to Bottomes house? Is he come home yet? Staru. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt hee is transported

This. If he come not, then the play is mar'd. It goes not forward, doth it? Quin. It is not possible: you haue not a man in all Athens, able to discharge Piramus but he

This. No, hee hath simply the best wit of any handycraft man in Athens

Quin. Yea, and the best person too, and hee is a very Paramour, for a sweet voyce

This. You must say, Paragon. A Paramour is (God blesse vs) a thing of nought. Enter Snug the Ioyner.

Snug. Masters, the Duke is comming from the Temple, and there is two or three Lords & Ladies more married. If our sport had gone forward, we had all bin made men

This. O sweet bully Bottome: thus hath he lost sixepence a day, during his life; he could not haue scaped sixpence a day. And the Duke had not giuen him sixpence a day for playing Piramus, Ile be hang'd. He would haue deserued it. Sixpence a day in Piramus, or nothing. Enter Bottome.

Bot. Where are these Lads? Where are these hearts? Quin. Bottome, o most couragious day! O most happie houre! Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders; but ask me not what. For if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I will tell you euery thing as it fell out

Qu. Let vs heare, sweet Bottome

Bot. Not a word of me: all that I will tell you, is, that the Duke hath dined. Get your apparell together, good strings to your beards, new ribbands to your pumps, meete presently at the Palace, euery man looke ore his part: for the short and the long is, our play is preferred: In any case let Thisby haue cleane linnen: and let not him that playes the Lion, paire his nailes, for they shall hang out for the Lions clawes. And most deare Actors, eate no Onions, nor Garlicke; for wee are to vtter sweete breath, and I doe not doubt but to heare them say, it is a sweet Comedy. No more words: away, go away.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Theseus, Hippolita, Egeus and his Lords.

Hip. 'Tis strange my Theseus, y these louers speake of

The. More strange then true. I neuer may beleeue These anticke fables, nor these Fairy toyes, Louers and mad men haue such seething braines, Such shaping phantasies, that apprehend more Then coole reason euer comprehends. The Lunaticke, the Louer, and the Poet, Are of imagination all compact. One sees more diuels then vaste hell can hold; That is the mad man. The Louer, all as franticke, Sees Helens beauty in a brow of Egipt. The Poets eye in a fine frenzy rolling, doth glance From heauen to earth, from earth to heauen. And as imagination bodies forth the forms of things Vnknowne; the Poets pen turnes them to shapes, And giues to aire nothing, a locall habitation, And a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination, That if it would but apprehend some ioy, It comprehends some bringer of that ioy. Or in the night, imagining some feare, Howe easie is a bush suppos'd a Beare? Hip. But all the storie of the night told ouer, And all their minds transfigur'd so together, More witnesseth than fancies images, And growes to something of great constancie; But howsoeuer, strange, and admirable. Enter louers, Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, and Helena.

The. Heere come the louers, full of ioy and mirth: Ioy, gentle friends, ioy and fresh dayes Of loue accompany your hearts

Lys. More then to vs, waite in your royall walkes, your boord, your bed

The. Come now, what maskes, what dances shall we haue, To weare away this long age of three houres, Between our after supper, and bed-time? Where is our vsuall manager of mirth? What Reuels are in hand? Is there no play, To ease the anguish of a torturing houre? Call Egeus

Ege. Heere mighty Theseus

The. Say, what abridgement haue you for this euening? What maske? What musicke? How shall we beguile The lazie time, if not with some delight? Ege. There is a breefe how many sports are rife: Make choise of which your Highnesse will see first

Lis. The battell with the Centaurs to be sung By an Athenian Eunuch, to the Harpe

The. Wee'l none of that. That haue I told my Loue In glory of my kinsman Hercules

Lis. The riot of the tipsie Bachanals, Tearing the Thracian singer, in their rage? The. That is an old deuice, and it was plaid When I from Thebes came last a Conqueror

Lis. The thrice three Muses, mourning for the death of learning, late deceast in beggerie

The. That is some Satire keene and criticall, Not sorting with a nuptiall ceremonie

Lis. A tedious breefe Scene of yong Piramus, And his loue Thisby; very tragicall mirth

The. Merry and tragicall? Tedious, and briefe? That is, hot ice, and wondrous strange snow. How shall wee finde the concord of this discord? Ege. A play there is, my Lord, some ten words long, Which is as breefe, as I haue knowne a play; But by ten words, my Lord, it is too long; Which makes it tedious. For in all the play, There is not one word apt, one Player fitted. And tragicall my noble Lord it is: for Piramus Therein doth kill himselfe. Which when I saw Rehearst, I must confesse, made mine eyes water: But more merrie teares, the passion of loud laughter Neuer shed

Thes. What are they that do play it? Ege. Hard handed men, that worke in Athens heere, Which neuer labour'd in their mindes till now; And now haue toyled their vnbreathed memories With this same play, against your nuptiall

The. And we will heare it

Hip. No my noble Lord, it is not for you. I haue heard It ouer, and it is nothing, nothing in the world; Vnless you can finde sport in their intents, Extreamely stretched, and cond with cruell paine, To doe you seruice

Thes. I will heare that play. For neuer any thing Can be amisse, when simplenesse and duty tender it. Goe bring them in, and take your places, Ladies

Hip. I loue not to see wretchednesse orecharged; And duty in his seruice perishing

Thes. Why gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing

Hip. He saies, they can doe nothing in this kinde

Thes. The kinder we, to giue them thanks for nothing Our sport shall be, to take what they mistake; And what poore duty cannot doe, noble respect Takes it in might, not merit. Where I haue come, great Clearkes haue purposed To greete me with premeditated welcomes; Where I haue seene them shiuer and looke pale, Make periods in the midst of sentences, Throttle their practiz'd accent in their feares, And in conclusion, dumbly haue broke off, Not paying me a welcome. Trust me sweete, Out of this silence yet, I pickt a welcome: And in the modesty of fearefull duty, I read as much, as from the ratling tongue Of saucy and audacious eloquence. Loue therefore, and tongue-tide simplicity, In least, speake most, to my capacity

Egeus. So please your Grace, the Prologue is addrest

Duke. Let him approach.

Flor. Trum.

Enter the Prologue. Quince.

Pro. If we offend, it is with our good will. That you should thinke, we come not to offend, But with good will. To shew our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end. Consider then, we come but in despight. We do not come, as minding to content you, Our true intent is. All for your delight, We are not heere. That you should here repent you, The Actors are at hand; and by their show, You shall know all, that you are like to know

Thes. This fellow doth not stand vpon points

Lys. He hath rid his Prologue, like a rough Colt: he knowes not the stop. A good morall my lord. it is not enough to speake, but to speake true

Hip. Indeed hee hath plaid on his Prologue, like a childe on a Recorder, a sound, but not in gouernment

Thes. His speech was like a tangled chaine: nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?

Tawyer with a Trumpet before them.

Enter Pyramus and Thisby, Wall, Moone-shine, and Lyon.

Prol. Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show, But wonder on, till truth make all things plaine. This man is Piramus, if you would know; This beauteous Lady, Thisby is certaine. This man, with lyme and rough-cast, doth present Wall, that vile wall, which did these louers sunder: And through walls chink (poor soules) they are content To whisper. At the which, let no man wonder. This man, with Lanthorne, dog, and bush of thorne, Presenteth moone-shine. For if you will know, By moone-shine did these Louers thinke no scorne To meet at Ninus toombe, there, there to wooe: This grizly beast (which Lyon hight by name) The trusty Thisby, comming first by night, Did scarre away, or rather did affright: And as she fled, her mantle she did fall; Which Lyon vile with bloody mouth did staine. Anon comes Piramus, sweet youth and tall, And findes his Thisbies Mantle slaine; Whereat, with blade, with bloody blamefull blade, He brauely broacht his boiling bloudy breast, And Thisby, tarrying in Mulberry shade, His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest, Let Lyon, Moone-shine, Wall, and Louers twaine, At large discourse, while here they doe remaine.

Exit all but Wall.

Thes. I wonder if the Lion be to speake

Deme. No wonder, my Lord: one Lion may, when many Asses doe.

Exit Lyon, Thisbie, and Mooneshine.

Wall. In this same Interlude, it doth befall, That I, one Snowt (by name) present a wall: And such a wall, as I would haue you thinke, That had in it a crannied hole or chinke: Through which the Louers, Piramus and Thisbie Did whisper often, very secretly. This loame, this rough-cast, and this stone doth shew, That I am that same Wall; the truth is so. And this the cranny is, right and sinister, Through which the fearfull Louers are to whisper

Thes. Would you desire Lime and Haire to speake better? Deme. It is the wittiest partition, that euer I heard discourse, my Lord

Thes. Pyramus drawes neere the Wall, silence. Enter Pyramus.

Pir. O grim lookt night, o night with hue so blacke, O night, which euer art, when day is not: O night, o night, alacke, alacke, alacke, I feare my Thisbies promise is forgot. And thou o wall, thou sweet and louely wall, That stands between her fathers ground and mine, Thou wall, o Wall, o sweet and louely wall, Shew me thy chinke, to blinke through with mine eine. Thankes courteous wall. Ioue shield thee well for this. But what see I? No Thisbie doe I see. O wicked wall, through whom I see no blisse, Curst be thy stones for thus deceiuing mee

Thes. The wall me-thinkes being sensible, should curse againe

Pir. No in truth sir, he should not. Deceiuing me, Is Thisbies cue; she is to enter, and I am to spy Her through the wall. You shall see it will fall. Enter Thisbie.

Pat as I told you; yonder she comes

This. O wall, full often hast thou heard my mones, For parting my faire Piramus, and me My cherry lips haue often kist thy stones; Thy stones with Lime and Haire knit vp in thee

Pyra. I see a voyce; now will I to the chinke, To spy and I can heare my Thisbies face. Thisbie? This. My Loue thou art, my Loue I thinke

Pir. Thinke what thou wilt, I am thy Louers grace, And like Limander am I trusty still

This. And like Helen till the Fates me kill

Pir. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true

This. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you

Pir. O kisse me through the hole of this vile wall

This. I kisse the wals hole, not your lips at all

Pir. Wilt thou at Ninnies tombe meete me straight way? This. Tide life, tide death, I come without delay

Wall. Thus haue I Wall, my part discharged so; And being done, thus Wall away doth go.

Exit Clow.

Du. Now is the morall downe between the two Neighbours

Dem. No remedie my Lord, when Wals are so wilfull, to heare without warning

Dut. This is the silliest stuffe that ere I heard

Du. The best in this kind are but shadowes, and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them

Dut. It must be your imagination then, & not theirs

Duk. If wee imagine no worse of them then they of themselues, they may passe for excellent men. Here com two noble beasts, in a man and a Lion. Enter Lyon and Moone-shine

Lyon. You Ladies, you (whose gentle harts do feare The smallest monstrous mouse that creepes on floore) May now perchance, both quake and tremble heere, When Lion rough in wildest rage doth roare. Then know that I, one Snug the Ioyner am A Lion fell, nor else no Lions dam: For if I should as Lion come in strife Into this place, 'twere pittie of my life

Du. A verie gentle beast, and of good conscience

Dem. The verie best at a beast, my Lord, y ere I saw

Lis. This Lion is a verie Fox for his valor

Du. True, and a Goose for his discretion

Dem. Not so my Lord: for his valor cannot carrie his discretion, and the fox carries the Goose

Du. His discretion I am sure cannot carrie his valor: for the Goose carries not the Fox. It is well; leaue it to his discretion, and let vs hearken to the Moone

Moone. This Lanthorne doth the horned Moone present

De. He should haue worne the hornes on his head

Du. Hee is no crescent, and his hornes are inuisible, within the circumference

Moon. This lanthorne doth the horned Moone present: My selfe, the man i'th Moone doth seeme to be

Du. This is the greatest error of all the rest; the man Should be put into the Lanthorne. How is it els the man i'th Moone? Dem. He dares not come there for the candle. For you see, it is already in snuffe

Dut. I am wearie of this Moone; would he would change

Du. It appeares by his smal light of discretion, that he is in the wane: but yet in courtesie, in all reason, we must stay the time

Lys. Proceed Moone

Moon. All that I haue to say, is to tell you, that the Lanthorne is the Moone; I, the man in the Moone; this thorne bush; my thorne bush; and this dog, my dog

Dem. Why all these should be in the Lanthorne: for they are in the Moone. But silence, heere comes Thisby. Enter Thisby.

This. This is old Ninnies tombe: where is my loue? Lyon. Oh.

The Lion roares, Thisby runs off.

Dem. Well roar'd Lion

Du. Well run Thisby

Dut. Well shone Moone. Truly the Moone shines with a good grace

Du. Wel mouz'd Lion

Dem. And then came Piramus

Lys. And so the Lion vanisht. Enter Piramus.

Pyr. Sweet Moone, I thank thee for thy sunny beames, I thanke thee Moone, for shining now so bright: For by thy gracious, golden, glittering beames, I trust to taste of truest Thisbies sight. But stay: O spight! but marke, poore Knight, What dreadful dole is heere? Eyes do you see! How can it be! O dainty Ducke: O Deere! Thy mantle good; what staind with blood! Approch you furies fell: O Fates! come, come: Cut thred and thrum, Quaile, crush, conclude, and quell

Du. This passion, and the death of a deare friend, Would go neere to make a man looke sad

Dut. Beshrew my heart, but I pittie the man

Pir. O wherefore Nature, did'st thou Lions frame? Since lion vilde hath heere deflour'd my deere: Which is: no, no, which was the fairest Dame That liu'd, that lou'd, that like'd, that look'd with cheere. Come teares, confound: Out sword, and wound The pap of Piramus: I, that left pap, where heart doth hop; Thus dye I, thus, thus, thus. Now am I dead, now am I fled, my soule is in the sky, Tongue lose thy light, Moone take thy flight, Now dye, dye, dye, dye, dye

Dem. No Die, but an ace for him; for he is but one

Lis. Lesse then an ace man. For he is dead, he is nothing

Du. With the helpe of a Surgeon, he might yet recouer, and proue an Asse

Dut. How chance Moone-shine is gone before? Thisby comes backe, and findes her Louer. Enter Thisby.

Duke. She wil finde him by starre-light. Heere she comes, and her passion ends the play

Dut. Me thinkes shee should not vse a long one for such a Piramus: I hope she will be breefe

Dem. A Moth wil turne the ballance, which Piramus which Thisby is the better

Lys. She hath spyed him already, with those sweete eyes

Dem. And thus she meanes, videlicit

This. Asleepe my Loue? What, dead my Doue? O Piramus arise: Speake, speake. Quite dumbe? Dead, dead? A tombe Must couer thy sweet eyes. These Lilly Lips, this cherry nose, These yellow Cowslip cheekes Are gone, are gone: Louers make mone: His eyes were greene as Leekes. O Sisters three, come, come to mee, With hands as pale as Milke, Lay them in gore, since you haue shore with sheeres, his thred of silke. Tongue not a word: Come trusty sword: Come blade, my brest imbrue: And farwell friends, thus Thisbie ends; Adieu, adieu, adieu

Duk. Moone-shine & Lion are left to burie the dead

Deme. I, and Wall too

Bot. No, I assure you, the wall is downe, that parted their Fathers. Will it please you to see the Epilogue, or to heare a Bergomask dance, betweene two of our company? Duk. No Epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. Neuer excuse; for when the plaiers are all dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if hee that writ it had plaid Piramus, and hung himselfe in Thisbies garter, it would haue beene a fine Tragedy: and so it is truely, and very notably discharg'd. but come, your Burgomaske; let your Epilogue alone. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelue. Louers to bed, 'tis almost Fairy time. I feare we shall out-sleepe the comming morne, As much as we this night haue ouer-watcht. This palpable grosse play hath well beguil'd The heauy gate of night. Sweet friends to bed. A fortnight hold we this solemnity. In nightly Reuels; and new iollitie.

Exeunt.

Enter Pucke.

Puck. Now the hungry Lyons rores, And the Wolfe beholds the Moone: Whilest the heauy ploughman snores, All with weary taske fore-done. Now the wasted brands doe glow, Whil'st the scritch-owle, scritching loud, Puts the wretch that lies in woe, In remembrance of a shrowd. Now it is the time of night, That the graues, all gaping wide, Euery one lets forth his spright, In the Church-way paths to glide, And we Fairies, that do runne, By the triple Hecates teame, From the presence of the Sunne, Following darkenesse like a dreame, Now are frollicke; not a Mouse Shall disturbe this hallowed house. I am sent with broome before, To sweep the dust behinde the doore. Enter King and Queene of Fairies, with their traine.

Ob. Through the house giue glimmering light, By the dead and drowsie fier, Euerie Elfe and Fairie spright, Hop as light as bird from brier, And this Ditty after me, sing and dance it trippinglie, Tita. First rehearse this song by roate, To each word a warbling note. Hand in hand, with Fairie grace, Will we sing and blesse this place.

The Song.

Now vntill the breake of day, Through this house each Fairy stray. To the best Bride-bed will we, Which by vs shall blessed be: And the issue there create, Euer shall be fortunate: So shall all the couples three, Euer true in louing be: And the blots of Natures hand, Shall not in their issue stand. Neuer mole, harelip, nor scarre, nor mark prodigious, such as are Despised in Natiuitie, Shall vpon their children be. With this field dew consecrate, Euery Fairy take his gate, And each seuerall chamber blesse, Through this Pallace with sweet peace, Euer shall in safety rest. And the owner of it blest. Trip away, make no stay; Meet me all by breake of day

Robin. If we shadowes haue offended, Thinke but this (and all is mended) That you haue but slumbred heere, While these Visions did appeare. And this weake and idle theame, No more yeelding but a dreame, Gentles, doe not reprehend. If you pardon, we will mend. And as I am an honest Pucke, If we haue vnearned lucke, Now to scape the Serpents tongue, We will make amends ere long: Else the Pucke a lyar call. So good night vnto you all. Giue me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends.

FINIS. A MIDSOMMER Nights Dreame.

The Merchant of Venice

Actus primus.

Enter Anthonio, Salarino, and Salanio.

Anthonio. In sooth I know not why I am so sad, It wearies me: you say it wearies you; But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, What stuffe 'tis made of, whereof it is borne, I am to learne: and such a Want-wit sadnesse makes of mee, That I haue much ado to know my selfe

Sal. Your minde is tossing on the Ocean, There where your Argosies with portly saile Like Signiors and rich Burgers on the flood, Or as it were the Pageants of the sea, Do ouer-peere the pettie Traffiquers That curtsie to them, do them reuerence As they flye by them with their wouen wings

Salar. Beleeue me sir, had I such venture forth, The better part of my affections, would Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still Plucking the grasse to know where sits the winde, Peering in Maps for ports, and peers, and rodes: And euery obiect that might make me feare Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt Would make me sad

Sal. My winde cooling my broth, Would blow me to an Ague, when I thought What harme a winde too great might doe at sea. I should not see the sandie houre-glasse runne, But I should thinke of shallows, and of flats, And see my wealthy Andrew docks in sand, Vailing her high top lower then her ribs To kisse her buriall; should I goe to Church And see the holy edifice of stone, And not bethinke me straight of dangerous rocks, Which touching but my gentle Vessels side Would scatter all her spices on the streame, Enrobe the roring waters with my silkes, And in a word, but euen now worth this, And now worth nothing. Shall I haue the thought To thinke on this, and shall I lacke the thought That such a thing bechaunc'd would make me sad? But tell me, I know Anthonio Is sad to thinke vpon his merchandize

Anth. Beleeue me no, I thanke my fortune for it, My ventures are not in one bottome trusted, Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate Vpon the fortune of this present yeere: Therefore my merchandize makes me not sad

Sola. Why then you are in loue

Anth. Fie, fie

Sola. Not in loue neither: then let vs say you are sad Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easie For you to laugh and leape, and say you are merry Because you are not sad. Now by two-headed Ianus, Nature hath fram'd strange fellowes in her time: Some that will euermore peepe through their eyes, And laugh like Parrats at a bag-piper. And other of such vineger aspect, That they'll not shew their teeth in way of smile, Though Nestor sweare the iest be laughable. Enter Bassanio, Lorenso, and Gratiano.

Sola. Heere comes Bassanio, Your most noble Kinsman, Gratiano, and Lorenso. Faryewell, We leaue you now with better company

Sala. I would haue staid till I had made you merry, If worthier friends had not preuented me

Ant. Your worth is very deere in my regard. I take it your owne busines calls on you, And you embrace th' occasion to depart

Sal. Good morrow my good Lords

Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? say, when? You grow exceeding strange: must it be so? Sal. Wee'll make our leysures to attend on yours.

Exeunt. Salarino, and Solanio.

Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you haue found Anthonio We two will leaue you, but at dinner time I pray you haue in minde where we must meete

Bass. I will not faile you

Grat. You looke not well signior Anthonio, You haue too much respect vpon the world: They loose it that doe buy it with much care, Beleeue me you are maruellously chang'd

Ant. I hold the world but as the world Gratiano, A stage, where euery man must play a part, And mine a sad one

Grati. Let me play the foole, With mirth and laughter let old wrinckles come, And let my Liuer rather heate with wine, Then my heart coole with mortifying grones. Why should a man whose bloud is warme within, Sit like his Grandsire, cut in Alablaster? Sleepe when he wakes? and creep into the Iaundies By being peeuish? I tell thee what Anthonio, I loue thee, and it is my loue that speakes: There are a sort of men, whose visages Do creame and mantle like a standing pond, And do a wilfull stilnesse entertaine, With purpose to be drest in an opinion Of wisedome, grauity, profound conceit, As who should say, I am sir an Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dogge barke. O my Anthonio, I do know of these That therefore onely are reputed wise, For saying nothing; when I am verie sure If they should speake, would almost dam those eares Which hearing them would call their brothers fooles: Ile tell thee more of this another time. But fish not with this melancholly baite For this foole Gudgin, this opinion: Come good Lorenzo, faryewell a while, Ile end my exhortation after dinner

Lor. Well, we will leaue you then till dinner time. I must be one of these same dumbe wise men. For Gratiano neuer let's me speake

Gra. Well, keepe me company but two yeares mo, Thou shalt not know the sound of thine owne tongue

Ant. Far you well, Ile grow a talker for this geare

Gra. Thankes ifaith, for silence is onely commendable In a neats tongue dri'd, and a maid not vendible. Enter.

Ant. It is that any thing now

Bas. Gratiano speakes an infinite deale of nothing, more then any man in all Venice, his reasons are two graines of wheate hid in two bushels of chaffe: you shall seeke all day ere you finde them, & when you haue them they are not worth the search

An. Well: tel me now, what Lady is the same To whom you swore a secret Pilgrimage That you to day promis'd to tel me of? Bas. Tis not vnknowne to you Anthonio How much I haue disabled mine estate, By something shewing a more swelling port Then my faint meanes would grant continuance: Nor do I now make mone to be abridg'd From such a noble rate, but my cheefe care Is to come fairely off from the great debts Wherein my time something too prodigall Hath left me gag'd: to you Anthonio I owe the most in money, and in loue, And from your loue I haue a warrantie To vnburthen all my plots and purposes, How to get cleere of all the debts I owe

An. I pray you good Bassanio let me know it, And if it stand as you your selfe still do, Within the eye of honour, be assur'd My purse, my person, my extreamest meanes Lye all vnlock'd to your occasions

Bass. In my schoole dayes, when I had lost one shaft I shot his fellow of the selfesame flight The selfesame way, with more aduised watch To finde the other forth, and by aduenturing both, I oft found both. I vrge this child-hoode proofe, Because what followes is pure innocence. I owe you much, and like a wilfull youth, That which I owe is lost: but if you please To shoote another arrow that selfe way Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, As I will watch the ayme: Or to finde both, Or bring your latter hazard backe againe, And thankfully rest debter for the first

An. You know me well, and herein spend but time To winde about my loue with circumstance, And out of doubt you doe more wrong In making question of my vttermost Then if you had made waste of all I haue: Then doe but say to me what I should doe That in your knowledge may by me be done, And I am prest vnto it: therefore speake

Bass. In Belmont is a Lady richly left, And she is faire, and fairer then that word, Of wondrous vertues, sometimes from her eyes I did receiue faire speechlesse messages: Her name is Portia, nothing vndervallewd To Cato's daughter, Brutus Portia, Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth, For the four windes blow in from euery coast Renowned sutors, and her sunny locks Hang on her temples like a golden fleece, Which makes her seat of Belmont Cholchos strond, And many Iasons come in quest of her. O my Anthonio, had I but the meanes To hold a riuall place with one of them, I haue a minde presages me such thrift, That I should questionlesse be fortunate

Anth. Thou knowst that all my fortunes are at sea, Neither haue I money, nor commodity To raise a present summe, therefore goe forth Try what my credit can in Venice doe, That shall be rackt euen to the vttermost, To furnish thee to Belmont to faire Portia. Goe presently enquire, and so will I Where money is, and I no question make To haue it of my trust, or for my sake.

Exeunt.

Enter Portia with her waiting woman Nerissa.

Portia. By my troth Nerrissa, my little body is a wearie of this great world

Ner. You would be sweet Madam, if your miseries were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are: and yet for ought I see, they are as sicke that surfet with too much, as they that starue with nothing; it is no smal happinesse therefore to bee seated in the meane, superfluitie comes sooner by white haires, but competencie liues longer

Portia. Good sentences, and well pronounc'd

Ner. They would be better if well followed

Portia. If to doe were as easie as to know what were good to doe, Chappels had beene Churches, and poore mens cottages Princes Pallaces: it is a good Diuine that followes his owne instructions; I can easier teach twentie what were good to be done, then be one of the twentie to follow mine owne teaching: the braine may deuise lawes for the blood, but a hot temper leapes ore a colde decree, such a hare is madnesse the youth, to skip ore the meshes of good counsaile the cripple; but this reason is not in fashion to choose me a husband: O mee, the word choose, I may neither choose whom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike, so is the wil of a liuing daughter curb'd by the will of a dead father: it is not hard Nerrissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none

Ner. Your father was euer vertuous, and holy men at their death haue good inspirations, therefore the lotterie that hee hath deuised in these three chests of gold, siluer, and leade, whereof who chooses his meaning, chooses you, wil no doubt neuer be chosen by any rightly, but one who you shall rightly loue: but what warmth is there in your affection towards any of these Princely suters that are already come? Por. I pray thee ouer-name them, and as thou namest them, I will describe them, and according to my description leuell at my affection

Ner. First there is the Neopolitane Prince

Por. I that's a colt indeede, for he doth nothing but talke of his horse, and hee makes it a great appropriation to his owne good parts that he can shoo him himselfe: I am much afraid my Ladie his mother plaid false with a Smyth

Ner. Than is there the Countie Palentine

Por. He doth nothing but frowne (as who should say, and you will not haue me, choose: he heares merrie tales and smiles not, I feare hee will proue the weeping Phylosopher when he growes old, being so full of vnmannerly sadnesse in his youth.) I had rather to be married to a deaths head with a bone in his mouth, then to either of these: God defend me from these two

Ner. How say you by the French Lord, Mounsier Le Boune? Por. God made him, and therefore let him passe for a man, in truth I know it is a sinne to be a mocker, but he, why he hath a horse better then the Neopolitans, a better bad habite of frowning then the Count Palentine, he is euery man in no man, if a Trassell sing, he fals straight a capring, he will fence with his owne shadow. If I should marry him, I should marry twentie husbands: if hee would despise me, I would forgiue him, for if he loue me to madnesse, I should neuer requite him

Ner. What say you then to Fauconbridge, the yong Baron of England? Por. You know I say nothing to him, for hee vnderstands not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latine, French, nor Italian, and you will come into the Court & sweare that I haue a poore pennie-worth in the English: hee is a proper mans picture, but alas who can conuerse with a dumbe show? how odly he is suited, I thinke he bought his doublet in Italie, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Germanie, and his behauiour euery where

Ner. What thinke you of the other Lord his neighbour? Por. That he hath a neighbourly charitie in him, for he borrowed a boxe of the eare of the Englishman, and swore he would pay him againe when hee was able: I thinke the Frenchman became his suretie, and seald vnder for another

Ner. How like you the yong Germaine, the Duke of Saxonies Nephew? Por. Very vildely in the morning when hee is sober, and most vildely in the afternoone when hee is drunke: when he is best, he is a little worse then a man, and when he is worst, he is little better then a beast: and the worst fall that euer fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without him

Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose the right Casket, you should refuse to performe your Fathers will, if you should refuse to accept him

Por. Therefore for feare of the worst, I pray thee set a deepe glasse of Reinish-wine on the contrary Casket, for if the diuell be within, and that temptation without, I know he will choose it. I will doe any thing Nerrissa ere I will be married to a spunge

Ner. You neede not feare Lady the hauing any of these Lords, they haue acquainted me with their determinations, which is indeede to returne to their home, and to trouble you with no more suite, vnlesse you may be won by some other sort then your Fathers imposition, depending on the Caskets

Por. If I liue to be as olde as Sibilla, I will dye as chaste as Diana: vnlesse I be obtained by the manner of my Fathers will: I am glad this parcell of wooers are so reasonable, for there is not one among them but I doate on his verie absence: and I wish them a faire departure

Ner. Doe you not remember Ladie in your Fathers time, a Venecian, a Scholler and a Souldior that came hither in companie of the Marquesse of Mountferrat? Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio, as I thinke, so was hee call'd

Ner. True Madam, hee of all the men that euer my foolish eyes look'd vpon, was the best deseruing a faire Lady

Por. I remember him well, and I remember him worthy of thy praise. Enter a Seruingman.

Ser. The four Strangers seeke you Madam to take their leaue: and there is a fore-runner come from a fift, the Prince of Moroco, who brings word the Prince his Maister will be here to night

Por. If I could bid the fift welcome with so good heart as I can bid the other foure farewell, I should be glad of his approach: if he haue the condition of a Saint, and the complexion of a diuell, I had rather hee should shriue me then wiue me. Come Nerrissa, sirra go before; whiles wee shut the gate vpon one wooer, another knocks at the doore.

Exeunt.

Enter Bassanio with Shylocke the Iew.

Shy. Three thousand ducates, well

Bass. I sir, for three months

Shy. For three months, well

Bass. For the which, as I told you, Anthonio shall be bound

Shy. Anthonio shall become bound, well

Bass. May you sted me? Will you pleasure me? Shall I know your answere

Shy. Three thousand ducats for three months, and Anthonio bound

Bass. Your answere to that

Shy. Anthonio is a good man

Bass. Haue you heard any imputation to the contrary

Shy. Ho no, no, no, no: my meaning in saying he is a good man, is to haue you vnderstand me that he is sufficient, yet his meanes are in supposition: he hath an Argosie bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies, I vnderstand moreouer vpon the Ryalta, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England, and other ventures hee hath squandred abroad, but ships are but boords, Saylers but men, there be land rats, and water rats, water theeues, and land theeues, I meane Pyrats, and then there is the perrill of waters, windes, and rocks: the man is not withstanding sufficient, three thousand ducats, I thinke I may take his bond

Bas. Be assured you may

Iew. I will be assured I may: and that I may be assured, I will bethinke mee, may I speake with Anthonio? Bass. If it please you to dine with vs

Iew. Yes, to smell porke, to eate of the habitation which your Prophet the Nazarite coniured the diuell into: I will buy with you, sell with you, talke with you, walke with you, and so following: but I will not eate with you, drinke with you, nor pray with you. What newes on the Ryalta, who is he comes here? Enter Anthonio.

Bass. This is signior Anthonio

Iew. How like a fawning publican he lookes. I hate him for he is a Christian: But more, for that in low simplicitie He lends out money gratis, and brings downe The rate of vsance here with vs in Venice. If I can catch him once vpon the hip, I will feede fat the ancient grudge I beare him. He hates our sacred Nation, and he railes Euen there where Merchants most doe congregate On me, my bargaines, and my well-worne thrift, Which he cals interrest: Cursed by my Trybe If I forgiue him

Bass. Shylock, doe you heare

Shy. I am debating of my present store, And by the neere gesse of my memorie I cannot instantly raise vp the grosse Of full three thousand ducats: what of that? Tuball a wealthy Hebrew of my Tribe Will furnish me: but soft, how many months Doe you desire? Rest you faire good signior, Your worship was the last man in our mouthes

Ant. Shylocke, albeit I neither lend nor borrow By taking, nor by giuing of excesse, Yet to supply the ripe wants of my friend, Ile breake a custome: is he yet possest How much he would? Shy. I, I, three thousand ducats

Ant. And for three months

Shy. I had forgot, three months, you told me so. Well then, your bond: and let me see, but heare you, Me thoughts you said, you neither lend nor borrow Vpon aduantage

Ant. I doe neuer vse it

Shy. When Iacob graz'd his vncle Labans sheepe, This Iacob from our holy Abram was (As his wise mother wrought in his behalfe) The third possesser; I, he was the third

Ant. And what of him, did he take interrest? Shy. No, not take interest, not as you would say Directly interest, marke what Iacob did, When Laban and himselfe were compremyz'd That all the eanelings which were streakt and pied Should fall as Iacobs hier, the Ewes being rancke, In end of Autumne turned to the Rammes, And when the worke of generation was Betweene these woolly breeders in the act, The skilfull shepheard pil'd me certaine wands, And in the dooing of the deede of kinde, He stucke them vp before the fulsome Ewes, Who then conceauing, did in eaning time Fall party-colour'd lambs, and those were Iacobs. This was a way to thriue, and he was blest: And thrift is blessing if men steale it not

Ant. This was a venture sir that Iacob seru'd for, A thing not in his power to bring to passe, But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heauen. Was this inserted to make interrest good? Or is your gold and siluer Ewes and Rams? Shy. I cannot tell, I make it breede as fast, But note me signior

Ant. Marke you this Bassanio, The diuell can cite Scripture for his purpose, An euill soule producing holy witnesse, Is like a villaine with a smiling cheeke, A goodly apple rotten at the heart. O what a goodly outside falsehood hath

Shy. Three thousand ducats, 'tis a good round sum. Three months from twelue, then let me see the rate

Ant. Well Shylocke, shall we be beholding to you? Shy. Signior Anthonio, many a time and oft In the Ryalto you haue rated me About my monies and my vsances: Still haue I borne it with a patient shrug, (For suffrance is the badge of all our Tribe.) You call me misbeleeuer, cut-throate dog, And spet vpon my Iewish gaberdine, And all for vse of that which is mine owne. Well then, it now appeares you neede my helpe: Goe to then, you come to me, and you say, Shylocke, we would haue moneyes, you say so: You that did voide your rume vpon my beard, And foote me as you spurne a stranger curre Ouer your threshold, moneyes is your suite. What should I say to you? Should I not say, Hath a dog money? Is it possible A curre should lend three thousand ducats? or Shall I bend low, and in a bond-mans key With bated breath, and whispring humblenesse, Say this: Faire sir, you spet on me on Wednesday last; You spurn'd me such a day; another time You cald me dog: and for these curtesies Ile lend you thus much moneyes

Ant. I am as like to call thee so againe, To spet on thee againe, to spurne thee too. If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not As to thy friends, for when did friendship take A breede of barraine mettall of his friend? But lend it rather to thine enemie, Who if he breake, thou maist with better face Exact the penalties

Shy. Why looke you how you storme, I would be friends with you, and haue your loue, Forget the shames that you haue staind me with, Supplie your present wants, and take no doite Of vsance for my moneyes, and youle not heare me, This is kinde I offer

Bass. This were kindnesse

Shy. This kindnesse will I showe, Goe with me to a Notarie, seale me there Your single bond, and in a merrie sport If you repaie me not on such a day, In such a place, such sum or sums as are Exprest in the condition, let the forfeite Be nominated for an equall pound Of your faire flesh, to be cut off and taken In what part of your bodie it pleaseth me

Ant. Content infaith, Ile seale to such a bond, And say there is much kindnesse in the Iew

Bass. You shall not seale to such a bond for me, Ile rather dwell in my necessitie

Ant. Why feare not man, I will not forfaite it, Within these two months, that's a month before This bond expires, I doe expect returne Of thrice three times the valew of this bond

Shy. O father Abram, what these Christians are, Whose owne hard dealings teaches them suspect The thoughts of others: Praie you tell me this, If he should breake his daie, what should I gaine By the exaction of the forfeiture? A pound of mans flesh taken from a man, Is not so estimable, profitable neither As flesh of Muttons, Beefes, or Goates, I say To buy his fauour, I extend this friendship, If he will take it, so: if not adiew, And for my loue I praie you wrong me not

Ant. Yes Shylocke, I will seale vnto this bond

Shy. Then meete me forthwith at the Notaries, Giue him direction for this merrie bond, And I will goe and purse the ducats straite. See to my house left in the fearefull gard Of an vnthriftie knaue: and presentlie Ile be with you. Enter.

Ant. Hie thee gentle Iew. This Hebrew will turne Christian, he growes kinde

Bass. I like not faire tearmes, and a villaines minde

Ant. Come on, in this there can be no dismaie, My Shippes come home a month before the daie.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus.

Enter Morochus a tawnie Moore all in white, and three or foure followers accordingly, with Portia, Nerrissa, and their traine. Flo. Cornets.

Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion, The shadowed liuerie of the burnisht sunne, To whom I am a neighbour, and neere bred. Bring me the fairest creature North-ward borne, Where Phoebus fire scarce thawes the ysicles, And let vs make incision for your loue, To proue whose blood is reddest, his or mine. I tell thee Ladie this aspect of mine Hath feard the valiant, (by my loue I sweare) The best regarded Virgins of our Clyme Haue lou'd it to: I would not change this hue, Except to steale your thoughts my gentle Queene

Por. In tearmes of choise I am not solie led By nice direction of a maidens eies: Besides, the lottrie of my destenie Bars me the right of voluntarie choosing: But if my Father had not scanted me, And hedg'd me by his wit to yeelde my selfe His wife, who wins me by that meanes I told you, Your selfe (renowned Prince) than stood as faire As any commer I haue look'd on yet For my affection

Mor. Euen for that I thanke you, Therefore I pray you leade me to the Caskets To trie my fortune: By this Symitare That slew the Sophie, and a Persian Prince That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, I would ore-stare the sternest eies that looke: Out-braue the heart most daring on the earth: Plucke the yong sucking Cubs from the she Beare, Yea, mocke the Lion when he rores for pray To win the Ladie. But alas, the while If Hercules and Lychas plaie at dice Which is the better man, the greater throw May turne by fortune from the weaker hand: So is Alcides beaten by his rage, And so may I, blinde fortune leading me Misse that which one vnworthier may attaine, And die with grieuing

Port. You must take your chance, And either not attempt to choose at all, Or sweare before you choose, if you choose wrong Neuer to speake to Ladie afterward In way of marriage, therefore be aduis'd

Mor. Nor will not, come bring me vnto my chance

Por. First forward to the temple, after dinner Your hazard shall be made

Mor. Good fortune then,

Cornets.

To make me blest or cursed'st among men.

Exeunt.

Enter the Clowne alone.

Clo. Certainely, my conscience will serue me to run from this Iew my Maister: the fiend is at mine elbow, and tempts me, saying to me, Iobbe, Launcelet Iobbe, good Launcelet, or good Iobbe, or good Launcelet Iobbe, vse your legs, take the start, run awaie: my conscience saies no; take heede honest Launcelet, take heed honest Iobbe, or as afore-said honest Launcelet Iobbe, doe not runne, scorne running with thy heeles; well, the most coragious fiend bids me packe, fia saies the fiend, away saies the fiend, for the heauens rouse vp a braue minde saies the fiend, and run; well, my conscience hanging about the necke of my heart, saies verie wisely to me: my honest friend Launcelet, being an honest mans sonne, or rather an honest womans sonne, for indeede my Father did something smack, something grow too; he had a kinde of taste; wel, my conscience saies Lancelet bouge not, bouge saies the fiend, bouge not saies my conscience, conscience say I you counsaile well, fiend say I you counsaile well, to be rul'd by my conscience I should stay with the Iew my Maister, (who God blesse the marke) is a kinde of diuell; and to run away from the Iew I should be ruled by the fiend, who sauing your reuerence is the diuell himselfe: certainely the Iew is the verie diuell incarnation, and in my conscience, my conscience is a kinde of hard conscience, to offer to counsaile me to stay with the Iew; the fiend giues the more friendly counsaile: I will runne fiend, my heeles are at your commandement, I will runne. Enter old Gobbe with a Basket.

Gob. Maister yong-man, you I praie you, which is the waie to Maister Iewes? Lan. O heauens, this is my true begotten Father, who being more then sand-blinde, high grauel blinde, knows me not, I will trie confusions with him

Gob. Maister yong Gentleman, I praie you which is the waie to Maister Iewes

Laun. Turne vpon your right hand at the next turning, but at the next turning of all on your left; marrie at the verie next turning, turne of no hand, but turn down indirectlie to the Iewes house

Gob. Be Gods sonties 'twill be a hard waie to hit, can you tell me whether one Launcelet that dwels with him dwell with him or no

Laun. Talke you of yong Master Launcelet, marke me now, now will I raise the waters; talke you of yong Maister Launcelet? Gob. No Maister sir, but a poore mans sonne, his Father though I say't is an honest exceeding poore man, and God be thanked well to liue

Lan. Well, let his Father be what a will, wee talke of yong Maister Launcelet

Gob. Your worships friend and Launcelet

Laun. But I praie you ergo old man, ergo I beseech you, talke you of yong Maister Launcelet

Gob. Of Launcelet, ant please your maistership

Lan. Ergo Maister Lancelet, talke not of maister Lancelet Father, for the yong gentleman according to fates and destinies, and such odde sayings, the sisters three, & such branches of learning, is indeede deceased, or as you would say in plaine tearmes, gone to heauen

Gob. Marrie God forbid, the boy was the verie staffe of my age, my verie prop

Lau. Do I look like a cudgell or a houell-post, a staffe or a prop: doe you know me Father

Gob. Alacke the day, I know you not yong Gentleman, but I praie you tell me, is my boy God rest his soule aliue or dead

Lan. Doe you not know me Father

Gob. Alacke sir I am sand blinde, I know you not

Lan. Nay, indeede if you had your eies you might faile of the knowing me: it is a wise Father that knowes his owne childe. Well, old man, I will tell you newes of your son, giue me your blessing, truth will come to light, murder cannot be hid long, a mans sonne may, but in the end truth will out

Gob. Praie you sir stand vp, I am sure you are not Lancelet my boy

Lan. Praie you let's haue no more fooling about it, but giue mee your blessing: I am Lancelet your boy that was, your sonne that is, your childe that shall be

Gob. I cannot thinke you are my sonne

Lan. I know not what I shall thinke of that: but I am Lancelet the Iewes man, and I am sure Margerie your wife is my mother

Gob. Her name is Margerie indeede, Ile be sworne if thou be Lancelet, thou art mine owne flesh and blood: Lord worshipt might he be, what a beard hast thou got; thou hast got more haire on thy chin, then Dobbin my philhorse has on his taile

Lan. It should seeme then that Dobbins taile growes backeward. I am sure he had more haire of his taile then I haue of my face when I last saw him

Gob. Lord how art thou chang'd: how doost thou and thy Master agree, I haue brought him a present; how gree you now? Lan. Well, well, but for mine owne part, as I haue set vp my rest to run awaie, so I will not rest till I haue run some ground; my Maister's a verie Iew, giue him a present, giue him a halter, I am famisht in his seruice. You may tell euerie finger I haue with my ribs: Father I am glad you are come, giue me your present to one Maister Bassanio, who indeede giues rare new Liuories, if I serue not him, I will run as far as God has anie ground. O rare fortune, here comes the man, to him Father, for I am a Iew if I serue the Iew anie longer. Enter Bassanio with a follower or two.

Bass. You may doe so, but let it be so hasted that supper be readie at the farthest by fiue of the clocke: see these Letters deliuered, put the Liueries to making, and desire Gratiano to come anone to my lodging

Lan. To him Father

Gob. God blesse your worship

Bass. Gramercie, would'st thou ought with me

Gob. Here's my sonne sir, a poore boy

Lan. Not a poore boy sir, but the rich Iewes man that would sir as my Father shall specifie

Gob. He hath a great infection sir, as one would say to serue

Lan. Indeede the short and the long is, I serue the Iew, and haue a desire as my Father shall specifie

Gob. His Maister and he (sauing your worships reuerence) are scarce catercosins

Lan. To be briefe, the verie truth is, that the Iew hauing done me wrong, doth cause me as my Father being I hope an old man shall frutifie vnto you

Gob. I haue here a dish of Doues that I would bestow vpon your worship, and my suite is

Lan. In verie briefe, the suite is impertinent to my selfe, as your worship shall know by this honest old man, and though I say it, though old man, yet poore man my Father

Bass. One speake for both, what would you? Lan. Serue you sir

Gob. That is the verie defect of the matter sir

Bass. I know thee well, thou hast obtain'd thy suite, Shylocke thy Maister spoke with me this daie, And hath prefer'd thee, if it be preferment To leaue a rich Iewes seruice, to become The follower of so poore a Gentleman

Clo. The old prouerbe is verie well parted betweene my Maister Shylocke and you sir, you haue the grace of God sir, and he hath enough

Bass. Thou speak'st well; go Father with thy Son, Take leaue of thy old Maister, and enquire My lodging out, giue him a Liuerie More garded then his fellowes: see it done

Clo. Father in, I cannot get a seruice, no, I haue nere a tongue in my head, well: if anie man in Italie haue a fairer table which doth offer to sweare vpon a booke, I shall haue good fortune; goe too, here's a simple line of life, here's a small trifle of wiues, alas, fifteene wiues is nothing, a leuen widdowes and nine maides is a simple comming in for one man, and then to scape drowning thrice, and to be in perill of my life with the edge of a featherbed, here are simple scapes: well, if Fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this gere: Father come, Ile take my leaue of the Iew in the twinkling.

Exit Clowne.

Bass. I praie thee good Leonardo thinke on this, These things being bought and orderly bestowed Returne in haste, for I doe feast to night My best esteemd acquaintance, hie thee goe

Leon. my best endeuors shall be done herein.

Exit Le.

Enter Gratiano.

Gra. Where's your Maister

Leon. Yonder sir he walkes

Gra. Signior Bassanio

Bas. Gratiano

Gra. I haue a sute to you

Bass. You haue obtain'd it

Gra. You must not denie me, I must goe with you to Belmont

Bass. Why then you must: but heare thee Gratiano, Thou art to wilde, to rude, and bold of voyce, Parts that become thee happily enough, And in such eyes as ours appeare not faults; But where they are not knowne, why there they show Something too liberall, pray thee take paine To allay with some cold drops of modestie Thy skipping spirit, least through thy wilde behauiour I be misconsterd in the place I goe to, And loose my hopes

Gra. Signor Bassanio, heare me, If I doe not put on a sober habite, Talke with respect, and sweare but now and than, Weare prayer bookes in my pocket, looke demurely, Nay more, while grace is saying hood mine eyes Thus with my hat, and sigh and say Amen: Vse all the obseruance of ciuillitie Like one well studied in a sad ostent To please his Grandam, neuer trust me more

Bas. Well, we shall see your bearing

Gra. Nay but I barre to night, you shall not gage me By what we doe to night

Bas. No that were pittie, I would intreate you rather to put on Your boldest suite of mirth, for we haue friends That purpose merriment: but far you well, I haue some businesse

Gra. And I must to Lorenso and the rest, But we will visite you at supper time.

Exeunt.

Enter Iessica and the Clowne.

Ies. I am sorry thou wilt leaue my Father so, Our house is hell, and thou a merrie diuell Did'st rob it of some taste of tediousnesse; But far thee well, there is a ducat for thee, And Lancelet, soone at supper shalt thou see Lorenzo, who is thy new Maisters guest, Giue him this Letter, doe it secretly, And so farewell: I would not haue my Father see me talke with thee

Clo. Adue, teares exhibit my tongue, most beautifull Pagan, most sweete Iew, if a Christian doe not play the knaue and get thee, I am much deceiued; but adue, these foolish drops doe somewhat drowne my manly spirit: adue. Enter.

Ies. Farewell good Lancelet. Alacke, what hainous sinne is it in me To be ashamed to be my Fathers childe, But though I am a daughter to his blood, I am not to his manners: O Lorenzo, If thou keepe promise I shall end this strife, Become a Christian, and thy louing wife. Enter.

Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio.

Lor. Nay, we will slinke away in supper time, Disguise vs at my lodging, and returne all in an houre

Gra. We haue not made good preparation

Sal. We haue not spoke vs yet of Torch-bearers

Sol. 'Tis vile vnlesse it may be quaintly ordered, And better in my minde not vndertooke

Lor. 'Tis now but foure of clock, we haue two houres To furnish vs; friend Lancelet what's the newes. Enter Lancelet with a Letter.

Lan. And it shall please you to breake vp this, shall it seeme to signifie

Lor. I know the hand, in faith 'tis a faire hand And whiter then the paper it writ on, Is the faire hand that writ

Gra. Loue newes in faith

Lan. By your leaue sir

Lor. Whither goest thou? Lan. Marry sir to bid my old Master the Iew to sup to night with my new Master the Christian

Lor. Hold here, take this, tell gentle Iessica I will not faile her, speake it priuately: Go Gentlemen, will you prepare you for this Maske to night, I am prouided of a Torch-bearer.

Exit. Clowne

Sal. I marry, ile be gone about it strait

Sol. And so will I

Lor. Meete me and Gratiano at Gratianos lodging Some houre hence

Sal. 'Tis good we do so. Enter.

Gra. Was not that Letter from faire Iessica? Lor. I must needes tell thee all, she hath directed How I shall take her from her Fathers house, What gold and iewels she is furnisht with, What Pages suite she hath in readinesse: If ere the Iew her Father come to heauen, It will be for his gentle daughters sake; And neuer dare misfortune crosse her foote, Vnlesse she doe it vnder this excuse, That she is issue to a faithlesse Iew: Come goe with me, pervse this as thou goest, Faire Iessica shall be my Torch-bearer. Enter.

Enter Iew, and his man that was the Clowne.

Iew. Well, thou shall see, thy eyes shall be thy iudge, The difference of old Shylocke and Bassanio; What Iessica, thou shalt not gurmandize As thou hast done with me: what Iessica? And sleepe, and snore, and rend apparrell out. Why Iessica I say

Clo. Why Iessica

Shy. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call

Clo. Your worship was wont to tell me I could doe nothing without bidding. Enter Iessica.