diff --git "a/train.txt" "b/train.txt" new file mode 100644--- /dev/null +++ "b/train.txt" @@ -0,0 +1,20272 @@ +First Citizen: +Before we proceed any further, hear me speak. + +All: +Speak, speak. + +First Citizen: +You are all resolved rather to die than to famish? + +All: +Resolved. resolved. + +First Citizen: +First, you know Caius Marcius is chief enemy to the people. + +All: +We know't, we know't. + +First Citizen: +Let us kill him, and we'll have corn at our own price. +Is't a verdict? + +All: +No more talking on't; let it be done: away, away! + +Second Citizen: +One word, good citizens. + +First Citizen: +We are accounted poor citizens, the patricians good. +What authority surfeits on would relieve us: if they +would yield us but the superfluity, while it were +wholesome, we might guess they relieved us humanely; +but they think we are too dear: the leanness that +afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an +inventory to particularise their abundance; our +sufferance is a gain to them Let us revenge this with +our pikes, ere we become rakes: for the gods know I +speak this in hunger for bread, not in thirst for revenge. + +Second Citizen: +Would you proceed especially against Caius Marcius? + +All: +Against him first: he's a very dog to the commonalty. + +Second Citizen: +Consider you what services he has done for his country? + +First Citizen: +Very well; and could be content to give him good +report fort, but that he pays himself with being proud. + +Second Citizen: +Nay, but speak not maliciously. + +First Citizen: +I say unto you, what he hath done famously, he did +it to that end: though soft-conscienced men can be +content to say it was for his country he did it to +please his mother and to be partly proud; which he +is, even till the altitude of his virtue. + +Second Citizen: +What he cannot help in his nature, you account a +vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous. + +First Citizen: +If I must not, I need not be barren of accusations; +he hath faults, with surplus, to tire in repetition. +What shouts are these? The other side o' the city +is risen: why stay we prating here? to the Capitol! + +All: +Come, come. + +First Citizen: +Soft! who comes here? + +Second Citizen: +Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one that hath always loved +the people. + +First Citizen: +He's one honest enough: would all the rest were so! + +MENENIUS: +What work's, my countrymen, in hand? where go you +With bats and clubs? The matter? speak, I pray you. + +First Citizen: +Our business is not unknown to the senate; they have +had inkling this fortnight what we intend to do, +which now we'll show 'em in deeds. They say poor +suitors have strong breaths: they shall know we +have strong arms too. + +MENENIUS: +Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbours, +Will you undo yourselves? + +First Citizen: +We cannot, sir, we are undone already. + +MENENIUS: +I tell you, friends, most charitable care +Have the patricians of you. For your wants, +Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well +Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them +Against the Roman state, whose course will on +The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs +Of more strong link asunder than can ever +Appear in your impediment. For the dearth, +The gods, not the patricians, make it, and +Your knees to them, not arms, must help. Alack, +You are transported by calamity +Thither where more attends you, and you slander +The helms o' the state, who care for you like fathers, +When you curse them as enemies. + +First Citizen: +Care for us! True, indeed! They ne'er cared for us +yet: suffer us to famish, and their store-houses +crammed with grain; make edicts for usury, to +support usurers; repeal daily any wholesome act +established against the rich, and provide more +piercing statutes daily, to chain up and restrain +the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will; and +there's all the love they bear us. + +MENENIUS: +Either you must +Confess yourselves wondrous malicious, +Or be accused of folly. I shall tell you +A pretty tale: it may be you have heard it; +But, since it serves my purpose, I will venture +To stale 't a little more. + +First Citizen: +Well, I'll hear it, sir: yet you must not think to +fob off our disgrace with a tale: but, an 't please +you, deliver. + +MENENIUS: +There was a time when all the body's members +Rebell'd against the belly, thus accused it: +That only like a gulf it did remain +I' the midst o' the body, idle and unactive, +Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing +Like labour with the rest, where the other instruments +Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel, +And, mutually participate, did minister +Unto the appetite and affection common +Of the whole body. The belly answer'd-- + +First Citizen: +Well, sir, what answer made the belly? + +MENENIUS: +Sir, I shall tell you. With a kind of smile, +Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus-- +For, look you, I may make the belly smile +As well as speak--it tauntingly replied +To the discontented members, the mutinous parts +That envied his receipt; even so most fitly +As you malign our senators for that +They are not such as you. + +First Citizen: +Your belly's answer? What! +The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye, +The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier, +Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter. +With other muniments and petty helps +In this our fabric, if that they-- + +MENENIUS: +What then? +'Fore me, this fellow speaks! What then? what then? + +First Citizen: +Should by the cormorant belly be restrain'd, +Who is the sink o' the body,-- + +MENENIUS: +Well, what then? + +First Citizen: +The former agents, if they did complain, +What could the belly answer? + +MENENIUS: +I will tell you +If you'll bestow a small--of what you have little-- +Patience awhile, you'll hear the belly's answer. + +First Citizen: +Ye're long about it. + +MENENIUS: +Note me this, good friend; +Your most grave belly was deliberate, +Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer'd: +'True is it, my incorporate friends,' quoth he, +'That I receive the general food at first, +Which you do live upon; and fit it is, +Because I am the store-house and the shop +Of the whole body: but, if you do remember, +I send it through the rivers of your blood, +Even to the court, the heart, to the seat o' the brain; +And, through the cranks and offices of man, +The strongest nerves and small inferior veins +From me receive that natural competency +Whereby they live: and though that all at once, +You, my good friends,'--this says the belly, mark me,-- + +First Citizen: +Ay, sir; well, well. + +MENENIUS: +'Though all at once cannot +See what I do deliver out to each, +Yet I can make my audit up, that all +From me do back receive the flour of all, +And leave me but the bran.' What say you to't? + +First Citizen: +It was an answer: how apply you this? + +MENENIUS: +The senators of Rome are this good belly, +And you the mutinous members; for examine +Their counsels and their cares, digest things rightly +Touching the weal o' the common, you shall find +No public benefit which you receive +But it proceeds or comes from them to you +And no way from yourselves. What do you think, +You, the great toe of this assembly? + +First Citizen: +I the great toe! why the great toe? + +MENENIUS: +For that, being one o' the lowest, basest, poorest, +Of this most wise rebellion, thou go'st foremost: +Thou rascal, that art worst in blood to run, +Lead'st first to win some vantage. +But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs: +Rome and her rats are at the point of battle; +The one side must have bale. +Hail, noble Marcius! + +MARCIUS: +Thanks. What's the matter, you dissentious rogues, +That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion, +Make yourselves scabs? + +First Citizen: +We have ever your good word. + +MARCIUS: +He that will give good words to thee will flatter +Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs, +That like nor peace nor war? the one affrights you, +The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you, +Where he should find you lions, finds you hares; +Where foxes, geese: you are no surer, no, +Than is the coal of fire upon the ice, +Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is +To make him worthy whose offence subdues him +And curse that justice did it. +Who deserves greatness +Deserves your hate; and your affections are +A sick man's appetite, who desires most that +Which would increase his evil. He that depends +Upon your favours swims with fins of lead +And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust Ye? +With every minute you do change a mind, +And call him noble that was now your hate, +Him vile that was your garland. What's the matter, +That in these several places of the city +You cry against the noble senate, who, +Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else +Would feed on one another? What's their seeking? + +MENENIUS: +For corn at their own rates; whereof, they say, +The city is well stored. + +MARCIUS: +Hang 'em! They say! +They'll sit by the fire, and presume to know +What's done i' the Capitol; who's like to rise, +Who thrives and who declines; side factions +and give out +Conjectural marriages; making parties strong +And feebling such as stand not in their liking +Below their cobbled shoes. They say there's +grain enough! +Would the nobility lay aside their ruth, +And let me use my sword, I'll make a quarry +With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high +As I could pick my lance. + +MENENIUS: +Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded; +For though abundantly they lack discretion, +Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I beseech you, +What says the other troop? + +MARCIUS: +They are dissolved: hang 'em! +They said they were an-hungry; sigh'd forth proverbs, +That hunger broke stone walls, that dogs must eat, +That meat was made for mouths, that the gods sent not +Corn for the rich men only: with these shreds +They vented their complainings; which being answer'd, +And a petition granted them, a strange one-- +To break the heart of generosity, +And make bold power look pale--they threw their caps +As they would hang them on the horns o' the moon, +Shouting their emulation. + +MENENIUS: +What is granted them? + +MARCIUS: +Five tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdoms, +Of their own choice: one's Junius Brutus, +Sicinius Velutus, and I know not--'Sdeath! +The rabble should have first unroof'd the city, +Ere so prevail'd with me: it will in time +Win upon power and throw forth greater themes +For insurrection's arguing. + +MENENIUS: +This is strange. + +MARCIUS: +Go, get you home, you fragments! + +Messenger: +Where's Caius Marcius? + +MARCIUS: +Here: what's the matter? + +Messenger: +The news is, sir, the Volsces are in arms. + +MARCIUS: +I am glad on 't: then we shall ha' means to vent +Our musty superfluity. See, our best elders. + +First Senator: +Marcius, 'tis true that you have lately told us; +The Volsces are in arms. + +MARCIUS: +They have a leader, +Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to 't. +I sin in envying his nobility, +And were I any thing but what I am, +I would wish me only he. + +COMINIUS: +You have fought together. + +MARCIUS: +Were half to half the world by the ears and he. +Upon my party, I'ld revolt to make +Only my wars with him: he is a lion +That I am proud to hunt. + +First Senator: +Then, worthy Marcius, +Attend upon Cominius to these wars. + +COMINIUS: +It is your former promise. + +MARCIUS: +Sir, it is; +And I am constant. Titus Lartius, thou +Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face. +What, art thou stiff? stand'st out? + +TITUS: +No, Caius Marcius; +I'll lean upon one crutch and fight with t'other, +Ere stay behind this business. + +MENENIUS: +O, true-bred! + +First Senator: +Your company to the Capitol; where, I know, +Our greatest friends attend us. + +TITUS: + +COMINIUS: +Noble Marcius! + +First Senator: + +MARCIUS: +Nay, let them follow: +The Volsces have much corn; take these rats thither +To gnaw their garners. Worshipful mutiners, +Your valour puts well forth: pray, follow. + +SICINIUS: +Was ever man so proud as is this Marcius? + +BRUTUS: +He has no equal. + +SICINIUS: +When we were chosen tribunes for the people,-- + +BRUTUS: +Mark'd you his lip and eyes? + +SICINIUS: +Nay. but his taunts. + +BRUTUS: +Being moved, he will not spare to gird the gods. + +SICINIUS: +Be-mock the modest moon. + +BRUTUS: +The present wars devour him: he is grown +Too proud to be so valiant. + +SICINIUS: +Such a nature, +Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow +Which he treads on at noon: but I do wonder +His insolence can brook to be commanded +Under Cominius. + +BRUTUS: +Fame, at the which he aims, +In whom already he's well graced, can not +Better be held nor more attain'd than by +A place below the first: for what miscarries +Shall be the general's fault, though he perform +To the utmost of a man, and giddy censure +Will then cry out of Marcius 'O if he +Had borne the business!' + +SICINIUS: +Besides, if things go well, +Opinion that so sticks on Marcius shall +Of his demerits rob Cominius. + +BRUTUS: +Come: +Half all Cominius' honours are to Marcius. +Though Marcius earned them not, and all his faults +To Marcius shall be honours, though indeed +In aught he merit not. + +SICINIUS: +Let's hence, and hear +How the dispatch is made, and in what fashion, +More than his singularity, he goes +Upon this present action. + +BRUTUS: +Lets along. + +First Senator: +So, your opinion is, Aufidius, +That they of Rome are entered in our counsels +And know how we proceed. + +AUFIDIUS: +Is it not yours? +What ever have been thought on in this state, +That could be brought to bodily act ere Rome +Had circumvention? 'Tis not four days gone +Since I heard thence; these are the words: I think +I have the letter here; yes, here it is. +'They have press'd a power, but it is not known +Whether for east or west: the dearth is great; +The people mutinous; and it is rumour'd, +Cominius, Marcius your old enemy, +Who is of Rome worse hated than of you, +And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman, +These three lead on this preparation +Whither 'tis bent: most likely 'tis for you: +Consider of it.' + +First Senator: +Our army's in the field +We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready +To answer us. + +AUFIDIUS: +Nor did you think it folly +To keep your great pretences veil'd till when +They needs must show themselves; which +in the hatching, +It seem'd, appear'd to Rome. By the discovery. +We shall be shorten'd in our aim, which was +To take in many towns ere almost Rome +Should know we were afoot. + +Second Senator: +Noble Aufidius, +Take your commission; hie you to your bands: +Let us alone to guard Corioli: +If they set down before 's, for the remove +Bring your army; but, I think, you'll find +They've not prepared for us. + +AUFIDIUS: +O, doubt not that; +I speak from certainties. Nay, more, +Some parcels of their power are forth already, +And only hitherward. I leave your honours. +If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet, +'Tis sworn between us we shall ever strike +Till one can do no more. + +All: +The gods assist you! + +AUFIDIUS: +And keep your honours safe! + +First Senator: +Farewell. + +Second Senator: +Farewell. + +All: +Farewell. + +VOLUMNIA: +I pray you, daughter, sing; or express yourself in a +more comfortable sort: if my son were my husband, I +should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he +won honour than in the embracements of his bed where +he would show most love. When yet he was but +tender-bodied and the only son of my womb, when +youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way, when +for a day of kings' entreaties a mother should not +sell him an hour from her beholding, I, considering +how honour would become such a person. that it was +no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if +renown made it not stir, was pleased to let him seek +danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel +war I sent him; from whence he returned, his brows +bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I sprang not +more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child +than now in first seeing he had proved himself a +man. + +VIRGILIA: +But had he died in the business, madam; how then? + +VOLUMNIA: +Then his good report should have been my son; I +therein would have found issue. Hear me profess +sincerely: had I a dozen sons, each in my love +alike and none less dear than thine and my good +Marcius, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their +country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action. + +Gentlewoman: +Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you. + +VIRGILIA: +Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself. + +VOLUMNIA: +Indeed, you shall not. +Methinks I hear hither your husband's drum, +See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair, +As children from a bear, the Volsces shunning him: +Methinks I see him stamp thus, and call thus: +'Come on, you cowards! you were got in fear, +Though you were born in Rome:' his bloody brow +With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes, +Like to a harvest-man that's task'd to mow +Or all or lose his hire. + +VIRGILIA: +His bloody brow! O Jupiter, no blood! + +VOLUMNIA: +Away, you fool! it more becomes a man +Than gilt his trophy: the breasts of Hecuba, +When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier +Than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood +At Grecian sword, contemning. Tell Valeria, +We are fit to bid her welcome. + +VIRGILIA: +Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius! + +VOLUMNIA: +He'll beat Aufidius 'head below his knee +And tread upon his neck. + +VALERIA: +My ladies both, good day to you. + +VOLUMNIA: +Sweet madam. + +VIRGILIA: +I am glad to see your ladyship. + +VALERIA: +How do you both? you are manifest house-keepers. +What are you sewing here? A fine spot, in good +faith. How does your little son? + +VIRGILIA: +I thank your ladyship; well, good madam. + +VOLUMNIA: +He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum, than +look upon his school-master. + +VALERIA: +O' my word, the father's son: I'll swear,'tis a +very pretty boy. O' my troth, I looked upon him o' +Wednesday half an hour together: has such a +confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a gilded +butterfly: and when he caught it, he let it go +again; and after it again; and over and over he +comes, and again; catched it again; or whether his +fall enraged him, or how 'twas, he did so set his +teeth and tear it; O, I warrant it, how he mammocked +it! + +VOLUMNIA: +One on 's father's moods. + +VALERIA: +Indeed, la, 'tis a noble child. + +VIRGILIA: +A crack, madam. + +VALERIA: +Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play +the idle husewife with me this afternoon. + +VIRGILIA: +No, good madam; I will not out of doors. + +VALERIA: +Not out of doors! + +VOLUMNIA: +She shall, she shall. + +VIRGILIA: +Indeed, no, by your patience; I'll not over the +threshold till my lord return from the wars. + +VALERIA: +Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably: come, +you must go visit the good lady that lies in. + +VIRGILIA: +I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with +my prayers; but I cannot go thither. + +VOLUMNIA: +Why, I pray you? + +VIRGILIA: +'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love. + +VALERIA: +You would be another Penelope: yet, they say, all +the yarn she spun in Ulysses' absence did but fill +Ithaca full of moths. Come; I would your cambric +were sensible as your finger, that you might leave +pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us. + +VIRGILIA: +No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth. + +VALERIA: +In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you +excellent news of your husband. + +VIRGILIA: +O, good madam, there can be none yet. + +VALERIA: +Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from +him last night. + +VIRGILIA: +Indeed, madam? + +VALERIA: +In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak it. +Thus it is: the Volsces have an army forth; against +whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of +our Roman power: your lord and Titus Lartius are set +down before their city Corioli; they nothing doubt +prevailing and to make it brief wars. This is true, +on mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us. + +VIRGILIA: +Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in every +thing hereafter. + +VOLUMNIA: +Let her alone, lady: as she is now, she will but +disease our better mirth. + +VALERIA: +In troth, I think she would. Fare you well, then. +Come, good sweet lady. Prithee, Virgilia, turn thy +solemness out o' door. and go along with us. + +VIRGILIA: +No, at a word, madam; indeed, I must not. I wish +you much mirth. + +VALERIA: +Well, then, farewell. + +MARCIUS: +Yonder comes news. A wager they have met. + +LARTIUS: +My horse to yours, no. + +MARCIUS: +'Tis done. + +LARTIUS: +Agreed. + +MARCIUS: +Say, has our general met the enemy? + +Messenger: +They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet. + +LARTIUS: +So, the good horse is mine. + +MARCIUS: +I'll buy him of you. + +LARTIUS: +No, I'll nor sell nor give him: lend you him I will +For half a hundred years. Summon the town. + +MARCIUS: +How far off lie these armies? + +Messenger: +Within this mile and half. + +MARCIUS: +Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they ours. +Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work, +That we with smoking swords may march from hence, +To help our fielded friends! Come, blow thy blast. +Tutus Aufidius, is he within your walls? + +First Senator: +No, nor a man that fears you less than he, +That's lesser than a little. +Hark! our drums +Are bringing forth our youth. We'll break our walls, +Rather than they shall pound us up: our gates, +Which yet seem shut, we, have but pinn'd with rushes; +They'll open of themselves. +Hark you. far off! +There is Aufidius; list, what work he makes +Amongst your cloven army. + +MARCIUS: +O, they are at it! + +LARTIUS: +Their noise be our instruction. Ladders, ho! + +MARCIUS: +They fear us not, but issue forth their city. +Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight +With hearts more proof than shields. Advance, +brave Titus: +They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts, +Which makes me sweat with wrath. Come on, my fellows: +He that retires I'll take him for a Volsce, +And he shall feel mine edge. + +MARCIUS: +All the contagion of the south light on you, +You shames of Rome! you herd of--Boils and plagues +Plaster you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd +Further than seen and one infect another +Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese, +That bear the shapes of men, how have you run +From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and hell! +All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale +With flight and agued fear! Mend and charge home, +Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe +And make my wars on you: look to't: come on; +If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives, +As they us to our trenches followed. +So, now the gates are ope: now prove good seconds: +'Tis for the followers fortune widens them, +Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like. + +First Soldier: +Fool-hardiness; not I. + +Second Soldier: +Nor I. + +First Soldier: +See, they have shut him in. + +All: +To the pot, I warrant him. + +LARTIUS: +What is become of Marcius? + +All: +Slain, sir, doubtless. + +First Soldier: +Following the fliers at the very heels, +With them he enters; who, upon the sudden, +Clapp'd to their gates: he is himself alone, +To answer all the city. + +LARTIUS: +O noble fellow! +Who sensibly outdares his senseless sword, +And, when it bows, stands up. Thou art left, Marcius: +A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art, +Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier +Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible +Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks and +The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds, +Thou madst thine enemies shake, as if the world +Were feverous and did tremble. + +First Soldier: +Look, sir. + +LARTIUS: +O,'tis Marcius! +Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike. + +First Roman: +This will I carry to Rome. + +Second Roman: +And I this. + +Third Roman: +A murrain on't! I took this for silver. + +MARCIUS: +See here these movers that do prize their hours +At a crack'd drachm! Cushions, leaden spoons, +Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would +Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves, +Ere yet the fight be done, pack up: down with them! +And hark, what noise the general makes! To him! +There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius, +Piercing our Romans: then, valiant Titus, take +Convenient numbers to make good the city; +Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste +To help Cominius. + +LARTIUS: +Worthy sir, thou bleed'st; +Thy exercise hath been too violent for +A second course of fight. + +MARCIUS: +Sir, praise me not; +My work hath yet not warm'd me: fare you well: +The blood I drop is rather physical +Than dangerous to me: to Aufidius thus +I will appear, and fight. + +LARTIUS: +Now the fair goddess, Fortune, +Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms +Misguide thy opposers' swords! Bold gentleman, +Prosperity be thy page! + +MARCIUS: +Thy friend no less +Than those she placeth highest! So, farewell. + +LARTIUS: +Thou worthiest Marcius! +Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place; +Call thither all the officers o' the town, +Where they shall know our mind: away! + +COMINIUS: +Breathe you, my friends: well fought; +we are come off +Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands, +Nor cowardly in retire: believe me, sirs, +We shall be charged again. Whiles we have struck, +By interims and conveying gusts we have heard +The charges of our friends. Ye Roman gods! +Lead their successes as we wish our own, +That both our powers, with smiling +fronts encountering, +May give you thankful sacrifice. +Thy news? + +Messenger: +The citizens of Corioli have issued, +And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle: +I saw our party to their trenches driven, +And then I came away. + +COMINIUS: +Though thou speak'st truth, +Methinks thou speak'st not well. +How long is't since? + +Messenger: +Above an hour, my lord. + +COMINIUS: +'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums: +How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour, +And bring thy news so late? + +Messenger: +Spies of the Volsces +Held me in chase, that I was forced to wheel +Three or four miles about, else had I, sir, +Half an hour since brought my report. + +COMINIUS: +Who's yonder, +That does appear as he were flay'd? O gods +He has the stamp of Marcius; and I have +Before-time seen him thus. + +MARCIUS: + +COMINIUS: +The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabour +More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue +From every meaner man. + +MARCIUS: +Come I too late? + +COMINIUS: +Ay, if you come not in the blood of others, +But mantled in your own. + +MARCIUS: +O, let me clip ye +In arms as sound as when I woo'd, in heart +As merry as when our nuptial day was done, +And tapers burn'd to bedward! + +COMINIUS: +Flower of warriors, +How is it with Titus Lartius? + +MARCIUS: +As with a man busied about decrees: +Condemning some to death, and some to exile; +Ransoming him, or pitying, threatening the other; +Holding Corioli in the name of Rome, +Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, +To let him slip at will. + +COMINIUS: +Where is that slave +Which told me they had beat you to your trenches? +Where is he? call him hither. + +MARCIUS: +Let him alone; +He did inform the truth: but for our gentlemen, +The common file--a plague! tribunes for them!-- +The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat as they did budge +From rascals worse than they. + +COMINIUS: +But how prevail'd you? + +MARCIUS: +Will the time serve to tell? I do not think. +Where is the enemy? are you lords o' the field? +If not, why cease you till you are so? + +COMINIUS: +Marcius, +We have at disadvantage fought and did +Retire to win our purpose. + +MARCIUS: +How lies their battle? know you on which side +They have placed their men of trust? + +COMINIUS: +As I guess, Marcius, +Their bands i' the vaward are the Antiates, +Of their best trust; o'er them Aufidius, +Their very heart of hope. + +MARCIUS: +I do beseech you, +By all the battles wherein we have fought, +By the blood we have shed together, by the vows +We have made to endure friends, that you directly +Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates; +And that you not delay the present, but, +Filling the air with swords advanced and darts, +We prove this very hour. + +COMINIUS: +Though I could wish +You were conducted to a gentle bath +And balms applied to, you, yet dare I never +Deny your asking: take your choice of those +That best can aid your action. + +MARCIUS: +Those are they +That most are willing. If any such be here-- +As it were sin to doubt--that love this painting +Wherein you see me smear'd; if any fear +Lesser his person than an ill report; +If any think brave death outweighs bad life +And that his country's dearer than himself; +Let him alone, or so many so minded, +Wave thus, to express his disposition, +And follow Marcius. +O, me alone! make you a sword of me? +If these shows be not outward, which of you +But is four Volsces? none of you but is +Able to bear against the great Aufidius +A shield as hard as his. A certain number, +Though thanks to all, must I select +from all: the rest +Shall bear the business in some other fight, +As cause will be obey'd. Please you to march; +And four shall quickly draw out my command, +Which men are best inclined. + +COMINIUS: +March on, my fellows: +Make good this ostentation, and you shall +Divide in all with us. + +LARTIUS: +So, let the ports be guarded: keep your duties, +As I have set them down. If I do send, dispatch +Those centuries to our aid: the rest will serve +For a short holding: if we lose the field, +We cannot keep the town. + +Lieutenant: +Fear not our care, sir. + +LARTIUS: +Hence, and shut your gates upon's. +Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct us. + +MARCIUS: +I'll fight with none but thee; for I do hate thee +Worse than a promise-breaker. + +AUFIDIUS: +We hate alike: +Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor +More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot. + +MARCIUS: +Let the first budger die the other's slave, +And the gods doom him after! + +AUFIDIUS: +If I fly, Marcius, +Holloa me like a hare. + +MARCIUS: +Within these three hours, Tullus, +Alone I fought in your Corioli walls, +And made what work I pleased: 'tis not my blood +Wherein thou seest me mask'd; for thy revenge +Wrench up thy power to the highest. + +AUFIDIUS: +Wert thou the Hector +That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny, +Thou shouldst not scape me here. +Officious, and not valiant, you have shamed me +In your condemned seconds. + +COMINIUS: +If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work, +Thou'ldst not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it +Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles, +Where great patricians shall attend and shrug, +I' the end admire, where ladies shall be frighted, +And, gladly quaked, hear more; where the +dull tribunes, +That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours, +Shall say against their hearts 'We thank the gods +Our Rome hath such a soldier.' +Yet camest thou to a morsel of this feast, +Having fully dined before. + +LARTIUS: +O general, +Here is the steed, we the caparison: +Hadst thou beheld-- + +MARCIUS: +Pray now, no more: my mother, +Who has a charter to extol her blood, +When she does praise me grieves me. I have done +As you have done; that's what I can; induced +As you have been; that's for my country: +He that has but effected his good will +Hath overta'en mine act. + +COMINIUS: +You shall not be +The grave of your deserving; Rome must know +The value of her own: 'twere a concealment +Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement, +To hide your doings; and to silence that, +Which, to the spire and top of praises vouch'd, +Would seem but modest: therefore, I beseech you +In sign of what you are, not to reward +What you have done--before our army hear me. + +MARCIUS: +I have some wounds upon me, and they smart +To hear themselves remember'd. + +COMINIUS: +Should they not, +Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude, +And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses, +Whereof we have ta'en good and good store, of all +The treasure in this field achieved and city, +We render you the tenth, to be ta'en forth, +Before the common distribution, at +Your only choice. + +MARCIUS: +I thank you, general; +But cannot make my heart consent to take +A bribe to pay my sword: I do refuse it; +And stand upon my common part with those +That have beheld the doing. + +MARCIUS: +May these same instruments, which you profane, +Never sound more! when drums and trumpets shall +I' the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be +Made all of false-faced soothing! +When steel grows soft as the parasite's silk, +Let him be made a coverture for the wars! +No more, I say! For that I have not wash'd +My nose that bled, or foil'd some debile wretch.-- +Which, without note, here's many else have done,-- +You shout me forth +In acclamations hyperbolical; +As if I loved my little should be dieted +In praises sauced with lies. + +COMINIUS: +Too modest are you; +More cruel to your good report than grateful +To us that give you truly: by your patience, +If 'gainst yourself you be incensed, we'll put you, +Like one that means his proper harm, in manacles, +Then reason safely with you. Therefore, be it known, +As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius +Wears this war's garland: in token of the which, +My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him, +With all his trim belonging; and from this time, +For what he did before Corioli, call him, +With all the applause and clamour of the host, +CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS! Bear +The addition nobly ever! + +All: +Caius Marcius Coriolanus! + +CORIOLANUS: +I will go wash; +And when my face is fair, you shall perceive +Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thank you. +I mean to stride your steed, and at all times +To undercrest your good addition +To the fairness of my power. + +COMINIUS: +So, to our tent; +Where, ere we do repose us, we will write +To Rome of our success. You, Titus Lartius, +Must to Corioli back: send us to Rome +The best, with whom we may articulate, +For their own good and ours. + +LARTIUS: +I shall, my lord. + +CORIOLANUS: +The gods begin to mock me. I, that now +Refused most princely gifts, am bound to beg +Of my lord general. + +COMINIUS: +Take't; 'tis yours. What is't? + +CORIOLANUS: +I sometime lay here in Corioli +At a poor man's house; he used me kindly: +He cried to me; I saw him prisoner; +But then Aufidius was within my view, +And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you +To give my poor host freedom. + +COMINIUS: +O, well begg'd! +Were he the butcher of my son, he should +Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus. + +LARTIUS: +Marcius, his name? + +CORIOLANUS: +By Jupiter! forgot. +I am weary; yea, my memory is tired. +Have we no wine here? + +COMINIUS: +Go we to our tent: +The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time +It should be look'd to: come. + +AUFIDIUS: +The town is ta'en! + +First Soldier: +'Twill be deliver'd back on good condition. + +AUFIDIUS: +Condition! +I would I were a Roman; for I cannot, +Being a Volsce, be that I am. Condition! +What good condition can a treaty find +I' the part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius, +I have fought with thee: so often hast thou beat me, +And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter +As often as we eat. By the elements, +If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, +He's mine, or I am his: mine emulation +Hath not that honour in't it had; for where +I thought to crush him in an equal force, +True sword to sword, I'll potch at him some way +Or wrath or craft may get him. + +First Soldier: +He's the devil. + +AUFIDIUS: +Bolder, though not so subtle. My valour's poison'd +With only suffering stain by him; for him +Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep nor sanctuary, +Being naked, sick, nor fane nor Capitol, +The prayers of priests nor times of sacrifice, +Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up +Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst +My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it +At home, upon my brother's guard, even there, +Against the hospitable canon, would I +Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to the city; +Learn how 'tis held; and what they are that must +Be hostages for Rome. + +First Soldier: +Will not you go? + +AUFIDIUS: +I am attended at the cypress grove: I pray you-- +'Tis south the city mills--bring me word thither +How the world goes, that to the pace of it +I may spur on my journey. + +First Soldier: +I shall, sir. + +MENENIUS: +The augurer tells me we shall have news to-night. + +BRUTUS: +Good or bad? + +MENENIUS: +Not according to the prayer of the people, for they +love not Marcius. + +SICINIUS: +Nature teaches beasts to know their friends. + +MENENIUS: +Pray you, who does the wolf love? + +SICINIUS: +The lamb. + +MENENIUS: +Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the +noble Marcius. + +BRUTUS: +He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear. + +MENENIUS: +He's a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two +are old men: tell me one thing that I shall ask you. + +Both: +Well, sir. + +MENENIUS: +In what enormity is Marcius poor in, that you two +have not in abundance? + +BRUTUS: +He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all. + +SICINIUS: +Especially in pride. + +BRUTUS: +And topping all others in boasting. + +MENENIUS: +This is strange now: do you two know how you are +censured here in the city, I mean of us o' the +right-hand file? do you? + +Both: +Why, how are we censured? + +MENENIUS: +Because you talk of pride now,--will you not be angry? + +Both: +Well, well, sir, well. + +MENENIUS: +Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of +occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience: +give your dispositions the reins, and be angry at +your pleasures; at the least if you take it as a +pleasure to you in being so. You blame Marcius for +being proud? + +BRUTUS: +We do it not alone, sir. + +MENENIUS: +I know you can do very little alone; for your helps +are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous +single: your abilities are too infant-like for +doing much alone. You talk of pride: O that you +could turn your eyes toward the napes of your necks, +and make but an interior survey of your good selves! +O that you could! + +BRUTUS: +What then, sir? + +MENENIUS: +Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, +proud, violent, testy magistrates, alias fools, as +any in Rome. + +SICINIUS: +Menenius, you are known well enough too. + +MENENIUS: +I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that +loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying +Tiber in't; said to be something imperfect in +favouring the first complaint; hasty and tinder-like +upon too trivial motion; one that converses more +with the buttock of the night than with the forehead +of the morning: what I think I utter, and spend my +malice in my breath. Meeting two such wealsmen as +you are--I cannot call you Lycurguses--if the drink +you give me touch my palate adversely, I make a +crooked face at it. I can't say your worships have +delivered the matter well, when I find the ass in +compound with the major part of your syllables: and +though I must be content to bear with those that say +you are reverend grave men, yet they lie deadly that +tell you you have good faces. If you see this in +the map of my microcosm, follows it that I am known +well enough too? what barm can your bisson +conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be +known well enough too? + +BRUTUS: +Come, sir, come, we know you well enough. + +MENENIUS: +You know neither me, yourselves nor any thing. You +are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs: you +wear out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing a +cause between an orange wife and a fosset-seller; +and then rejourn the controversy of three pence to a +second day of audience. When you are hearing a +matter between party and party, if you chance to be +pinched with the colic, you make faces like +mummers; set up the bloody flag against all +patience; and, in roaring for a chamber-pot, +dismiss the controversy bleeding the more entangled +by your hearing: all the peace you make in their +cause is, calling both the parties knaves. You are +a pair of strange ones. + +BRUTUS: +Come, come, you are well understood to be a +perfecter giber for the table than a necessary +bencher in the Capitol. + +MENENIUS: +Our very priests must become mockers, if they shall +encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are. When +you speak best unto the purpose, it is not worth the +wagging of your beards; and your beards deserve not +so honourable a grave as to stuff a botcher's +cushion, or to be entombed in an ass's pack- +saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is proud; +who in a cheap estimation, is worth predecessors +since Deucalion, though peradventure some of the +best of 'em were hereditary hangmen. God-den to +your worships: more of your conversation would +infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly +plebeians: I will be bold to take my leave of you. +How now, my as fair as noble ladies,--and the moon, +were she earthly, no nobler,--whither do you follow +your eyes so fast? + +VOLUMNIA: +Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches; for +the love of Juno, let's go. + +MENENIUS: +Ha! Marcius coming home! + +VOLUMNIA: +Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most prosperous +approbation. + +MENENIUS: +Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee. Hoo! +Marcius coming home! + +VOLUMNIA: +Nay,'tis true. + +VOLUMNIA: +Look, here's a letter from him: the state hath +another, his wife another; and, I think, there's one +at home for you. + +MENENIUS: +I will make my very house reel tonight: a letter for +me! + +VIRGILIA: +Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw't. + +MENENIUS: +A letter for me! it gives me an estate of seven +years' health; in which time I will make a lip at +the physician: the most sovereign prescription in +Galen is but empiricutic, and, to this preservative, +of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he +not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded. + +VIRGILIA: +O, no, no, no. + +VOLUMNIA: +O, he is wounded; I thank the gods for't. + +MENENIUS: +So do I too, if it be not too much: brings a' +victory in his pocket? the wounds become him. + +VOLUMNIA: +On's brows: Menenius, he comes the third time home +with the oaken garland. + +MENENIUS: +Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly? + +VOLUMNIA: +Titus Lartius writes, they fought together, but +Aufidius got off. + +MENENIUS: +And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that: +an he had stayed by him, I would not have been so +fidiused for all the chests in Corioli, and the gold +that's in them. Is the senate possessed of this? + +VOLUMNIA: +Good ladies, let's go. Yes, yes, yes; the senate +has letters from the general, wherein he gives my +son the whole name of the war: he hath in this +action outdone his former deeds doubly + +VALERIA: +In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him. + +MENENIUS: +Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and not without his +true purchasing. + +VIRGILIA: +The gods grant them true! + +VOLUMNIA: +True! pow, wow. + +MENENIUS: +True! I'll be sworn they are true. +Where is he wounded? +God save your good worships! Marcius is coming +home: he has more cause to be proud. Where is he wounded? + +VOLUMNIA: +I' the shoulder and i' the left arm there will be +large cicatrices to show the people, when he shall +stand for his place. He received in the repulse of +Tarquin seven hurts i' the body. + +MENENIUS: +One i' the neck, and two i' the thigh,--there's +nine that I know. + +VOLUMNIA: +He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five +wounds upon him. + +MENENIUS: +Now it's twenty-seven: every gash was an enemy's grave. +Hark! the trumpets. + +VOLUMNIA: +These are the ushers of Marcius: before him he +carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears: +Death, that dark spirit, in 's nervy arm doth lie; +Which, being advanced, declines, and then men die. + +Herald: +Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight +Within Corioli gates: where he hath won, +With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these +In honour follows Coriolanus. +Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! + +All: +Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! + +CORIOLANUS: +No more of this; it does offend my heart: +Pray now, no more. + +COMINIUS: +Look, sir, your mother! + +CORIOLANUS: +O, +You have, I know, petition'd all the gods +For my prosperity! + +VOLUMNIA: +Nay, my good soldier, up; +My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and +By deed-achieving honour newly named,-- +What is it?--Coriolanus must I call thee?-- +But O, thy wife! + +CORIOLANUS: +My gracious silence, hail! +Wouldst thou have laugh'd had I come coffin'd home, +That weep'st to see me triumph? Ay, my dear, +Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear, +And mothers that lack sons. + +MENENIUS: +Now, the gods crown thee! + +CORIOLANUS: +And live you yet? +O my sweet lady, pardon. + +VOLUMNIA: +I know not where to turn: O, welcome home: +And welcome, general: and ye're welcome all. + +MENENIUS: +A hundred thousand welcomes. I could weep +And I could laugh, I am light and heavy. Welcome. +A curse begin at very root on's heart, +That is not glad to see thee! You are three +That Rome should dote on: yet, by the faith of men, +We have some old crab-trees here +at home that will not +Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors: +We call a nettle but a nettle and +The faults of fools but folly. + +COMINIUS: +Ever right. + +CORIOLANUS: +Menenius ever, ever. + +Herald: +Give way there, and go on! + +CORIOLANUS: + +VOLUMNIA: +I have lived +To see inherited my very wishes +And the buildings of my fancy: only +There's one thing wanting, which I doubt not but +Our Rome will cast upon thee. + +CORIOLANUS: +Know, good mother, +I had rather be their servant in my way, +Than sway with them in theirs. + +COMINIUS: +On, to the Capitol! + +BRUTUS: +All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights +Are spectacled to see him: your prattling nurse +Into a rapture lets her baby cry +While she chats him: the kitchen malkin pins +Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck, +Clambering the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks, windows, +Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges horsed +With variable complexions, all agreeing +In earnestness to see him: seld-shown flamens +Do press among the popular throngs and puff +To win a vulgar station: or veil'd dames +Commit the war of white and damask in +Their nicely-gawded cheeks to the wanton spoil +Of Phoebus' burning kisses: such a pother +As if that whatsoever god who leads him +Were slily crept into his human powers +And gave him graceful posture. + +SICINIUS: +On the sudden, +I warrant him consul. + +BRUTUS: +Then our office may, +During his power, go sleep. + +SICINIUS: +He cannot temperately transport his honours +From where he should begin and end, but will +Lose those he hath won. + +BRUTUS: +In that there's comfort. + +SICINIUS: +Doubt not +The commoners, for whom we stand, but they +Upon their ancient malice will forget +With the least cause these his new honours, which +That he will give them make I as little question +As he is proud to do't. + +BRUTUS: +I heard him swear, +Were he to stand for consul, never would he +Appear i' the market-place nor on him put +The napless vesture of humility; +Nor showing, as the manner is, his wounds +To the people, beg their stinking breaths. + +SICINIUS: +'Tis right. + +BRUTUS: +It was his word: O, he would miss it rather +Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to him, +And the desire of the nobles. + +SICINIUS: +I wish no better +Than have him hold that purpose and to put it +In execution. + +BRUTUS: +'Tis most like he will. + +SICINIUS: +It shall be to him then as our good wills, +A sure destruction. + +BRUTUS: +So it must fall out +To him or our authorities. For an end, +We must suggest the people in what hatred +He still hath held them; that to's power he would +Have made them mules, silenced their pleaders and +Dispropertied their freedoms, holding them, +In human action and capacity, +Of no more soul nor fitness for the world +Than camels in the war, who have their provand +Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows +For sinking under them. + +SICINIUS: +This, as you say, suggested +At some time when his soaring insolence +Shall touch the people--which time shall not want, +If he be put upon 't; and that's as easy +As to set dogs on sheep--will be his fire +To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze +Shall darken him for ever. + +BRUTUS: +What's the matter? + +Messenger: +You are sent for to the Capitol. 'Tis thought +That Marcius shall be consul: +I have seen the dumb men throng to see him and +The blind to bear him speak: matrons flung gloves, +Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchers, +Upon him as he pass'd: the nobles bended, +As to Jove's statue, and the commons made +A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts: +I never saw the like. + +BRUTUS: +Let's to the Capitol; +And carry with us ears and eyes for the time, +But hearts for the event. + +SICINIUS: +Have with you. + +First Officer: +Come, come, they are almost here. How many stand +for consulships? + +Second Officer: +Three, they say: but 'tis thought of every one +Coriolanus will carry it. + +First Officer: +That's a brave fellow; but he's vengeance proud, and +loves not the common people. + +Second Officer: +Faith, there had been many great men that have +flattered the people, who ne'er loved them; and there +be many that they have loved, they know not +wherefore: so that, if they love they know not why, +they hate upon no better a ground: therefore, for +Coriolanus neither to care whether they love or hate +him manifests the true knowledge he has in their +disposition; and out of his noble carelessness lets +them plainly see't. + +First Officer: +If he did not care whether he had their love or no, +he waved indifferently 'twixt doing them neither +good nor harm: but he seeks their hate with greater +devotion than can render it him; and leaves +nothing undone that may fully discover him their +opposite. Now, to seem to affect the malice and +displeasure of the people is as bad as that which he +dislikes, to flatter them for their love. + +Second Officer: +He hath deserved worthily of his country: and his +ascent is not by such easy degrees as those who, +having been supple and courteous to the people, +bonneted, without any further deed to have them at +an into their estimation and report: but he hath so +planted his honours in their eyes, and his actions +in their hearts, that for their tongues to be +silent, and not confess so much, were a kind of +ingrateful injury; to report otherwise, were a +malice, that, giving itself the lie, would pluck +reproof and rebuke from every ear that heard it. + +First Officer: +No more of him; he is a worthy man: make way, they +are coming. + +MENENIUS: +Having determined of the Volsces and +To send for Titus Lartius, it remains, +As the main point of this our after-meeting, +To gratify his noble service that +Hath thus stood for his country: therefore, +please you, +Most reverend and grave elders, to desire +The present consul, and last general +In our well-found successes, to report +A little of that worthy work perform'd +By Caius Marcius Coriolanus, whom +We met here both to thank and to remember +With honours like himself. + +First Senator: +Speak, good Cominius: +Leave nothing out for length, and make us think +Rather our state's defective for requital +Than we to stretch it out. +Masters o' the people, +We do request your kindest ears, and after, +Your loving motion toward the common body, +To yield what passes here. + +SICINIUS: +We are convented +Upon a pleasing treaty, and have hearts +Inclinable to honour and advance +The theme of our assembly. + +BRUTUS: +Which the rather +We shall be blest to do, if he remember +A kinder value of the people than +He hath hereto prized them at. + +MENENIUS: +That's off, that's off; +I would you rather had been silent. Please you +To hear Cominius speak? + +BRUTUS: +Most willingly; +But yet my caution was more pertinent +Than the rebuke you give it. + +MENENIUS: +He loves your people +But tie him not to be their bedfellow. +Worthy Cominius, speak. +Nay, keep your place. + +First Senator: +Sit, Coriolanus; never shame to hear +What you have nobly done. + +CORIOLANUS: +Your horror's pardon: +I had rather have my wounds to heal again +Than hear say how I got them. + +BRUTUS: +Sir, I hope +My words disbench'd you not. + +CORIOLANUS: +No, sir: yet oft, +When blows have made me stay, I fled from words. +You soothed not, therefore hurt not: but +your people, +I love them as they weigh. + +MENENIUS: +Pray now, sit down. + +CORIOLANUS: +I had rather have one scratch my head i' the sun +When the alarum were struck than idly sit +To hear my nothings monster'd. + +MENENIUS: +Masters of the people, +Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter-- +That's thousand to one good one--when you now see +He had rather venture all his limbs for honour +Than one on's ears to hear it? Proceed, Cominius. + +COMINIUS: +I shall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus +Should not be utter'd feebly. It is held +That valour is the chiefest virtue, and +Most dignifies the haver: if it be, +The man I speak of cannot in the world +Be singly counterpoised. At sixteen years, +When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought +Beyond the mark of others: our then dictator, +Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight, +When with his Amazonian chin he drove +The bristled lips before him: be bestrid +An o'er-press'd Roman and i' the consul's view +Slew three opposers: Tarquin's self he met, +And struck him on his knee: in that day's feats, +When he might act the woman in the scene, +He proved best man i' the field, and for his meed +Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age +Man-enter'd thus, he waxed like a sea, +And in the brunt of seventeen battles since +He lurch'd all swords of the garland. For this last, +Before and in Corioli, let me say, +I cannot speak him home: he stopp'd the fliers; +And by his rare example made the coward +Turn terror into sport: as weeds before +A vessel under sail, so men obey'd +And fell below his stem: his sword, death's stamp, +Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot +He was a thing of blood, whose every motion +Was timed with dying cries: alone he enter'd +The mortal gate of the city, which he painted +With shunless destiny; aidless came off, +And with a sudden reinforcement struck +Corioli like a planet: now all's his: +When, by and by, the din of war gan pierce +His ready sense; then straight his doubled spirit +Re-quicken'd what in flesh was fatigate, +And to the battle came he; where he did +Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if +'Twere a perpetual spoil: and till we call'd +Both field and city ours, he never stood +To ease his breast with panting. + +MENENIUS: +Worthy man! + +First Senator: +He cannot but with measure fit the honours +Which we devise him. + +COMINIUS: +Our spoils he kick'd at, +And look'd upon things precious as they were +The common muck of the world: he covets less +Than misery itself would give; rewards +His deeds with doing them, and is content +To spend the time to end it. + +MENENIUS: +He's right noble: +Let him be call'd for. + +First Senator: +Call Coriolanus. + +Officer: +He doth appear. + +MENENIUS: +The senate, Coriolanus, are well pleased +To make thee consul. + +CORIOLANUS: +I do owe them still +My life and services. + +MENENIUS: +It then remains +That you do speak to the people. + +CORIOLANUS: +I do beseech you, +Let me o'erleap that custom, for I cannot +Put on the gown, stand naked and entreat them, +For my wounds' sake, to give their suffrage: please you +That I may pass this doing. + +SICINIUS: +Sir, the people +Must have their voices; neither will they bate +One jot of ceremony. + +MENENIUS: +Put them not to't: +Pray you, go fit you to the custom and +Take to you, as your predecessors have, +Your honour with your form. + +CORIOLANUS: +It is apart +That I shall blush in acting, and might well +Be taken from the people. + +BRUTUS: +Mark you that? + +CORIOLANUS: +To brag unto them, thus I did, and thus; +Show them the unaching scars which I should hide, +As if I had received them for the hire +Of their breath only! + +MENENIUS: +Do not stand upon't. +We recommend to you, tribunes of the people, +Our purpose to them: and to our noble consul +Wish we all joy and honour. + +Senators: +To Coriolanus come all joy and honour! + +BRUTUS: +You see how he intends to use the people. + +SICINIUS: +May they perceive's intent! He will require them, +As if he did contemn what he requested +Should be in them to give. + +BRUTUS: +Come, we'll inform them +Of our proceedings here: on the marketplace, +I know, they do attend us. + +First Citizen: +Once, if he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him. + +Second Citizen: +We may, sir, if we will. + +Third Citizen: +We have power in ourselves to do it, but it is a +power that we have no power to do; for if he show us +his wounds and tell us his deeds, we are to put our +tongues into those wounds and speak for them; so, if +he tell us his noble deeds, we must also tell him +our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is +monstrous, and for the multitude to be ingrateful, +were to make a monster of the multitude: of the +which we being members, should bring ourselves to be +monstrous members. + +First Citizen: +And to make us no better thought of, a little help +will serve; for once we stood up about the corn, he +himself stuck not to call us the many-headed multitude. + +Third Citizen: +We have been called so of many; not that our heads +are some brown, some black, some auburn, some bald, +but that our wits are so diversely coloured: and +truly I think if all our wits were to issue out of +one skull, they would fly east, west, north, south, +and their consent of one direct way should be at +once to all the points o' the compass. + +Second Citizen: +Think you so? Which way do you judge my wit would +fly? + +Third Citizen: +Nay, your wit will not so soon out as another man's +will;'tis strongly wedged up in a block-head, but +if it were at liberty, 'twould, sure, southward. + +Second Citizen: +Why that way? + +Third Citizen: +To lose itself in a fog, where being three parts +melted away with rotten dews, the fourth would return +for conscience sake, to help to get thee a wife. + +Second Citizen: +You are never without your tricks: you may, you may. + +Third Citizen: +Are you all resolved to give your voices? But +that's no matter, the greater part carries it. I +say, if he would incline to the people, there was +never a worthier man. +Here he comes, and in the gown of humility: mark his +behavior. We are not to stay all together, but to +come by him where he stands, by ones, by twos, and +by threes. He's to make his requests by +particulars; wherein every one of us has a single +honour, in giving him our own voices with our own +tongues: therefore follow me, and I direct you how +you shall go by him. + +All: +Content, content. + +MENENIUS: +O sir, you are not right: have you not known +The worthiest men have done't? + +CORIOLANUS: +What must I say? +'I Pray, sir'--Plague upon't! I cannot bring +My tongue to such a pace:--'Look, sir, my wounds! +I got them in my country's service, when +Some certain of your brethren roar'd and ran +From the noise of our own drums.' + +MENENIUS: +O me, the gods! +You must not speak of that: you must desire them +To think upon you. + +CORIOLANUS: +Think upon me! hang 'em! +I would they would forget me, like the virtues +Which our divines lose by 'em. + +MENENIUS: +You'll mar all: +I'll leave you: pray you, speak to 'em, I pray you, +In wholesome manner. + +CORIOLANUS: +Bid them wash their faces +And keep their teeth clean. +So, here comes a brace. +You know the cause, air, of my standing here. + +Third Citizen: +We do, sir; tell us what hath brought you to't. + +CORIOLANUS: +Mine own desert. + +Second Citizen: +Your own desert! + +CORIOLANUS: +Ay, but not mine own desire. + +Third Citizen: +How not your own desire? + +CORIOLANUS: +No, sir,'twas never my desire yet to trouble the +poor with begging. + +Third Citizen: +You must think, if we give you any thing, we hope to +gain by you. + +CORIOLANUS: +Well then, I pray, your price o' the consulship? + +First Citizen: +The price is to ask it kindly. + +CORIOLANUS: +Kindly! Sir, I pray, let me ha't: I have wounds to +show you, which shall be yours in private. Your +good voice, sir; what say you? + +Second Citizen: +You shall ha' it, worthy sir. + +CORIOLANUS: +A match, sir. There's in all two worthy voices +begged. I have your alms: adieu. + +Third Citizen: +But this is something odd. + +Second Citizen: +An 'twere to give again,--but 'tis no matter. + +CORIOLANUS: +Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your +voices that I may be consul, I have here the +customary gown. + +Fourth Citizen: +You have deserved nobly of your country, and you +have not deserved nobly. + +CORIOLANUS: +Your enigma? + +Fourth Citizen: +You have been a scourge to her enemies, you have +been a rod to her friends; you have not indeed loved +the common people. + +CORIOLANUS: +You should account me the more virtuous that I have +not been common in my love. I will, sir, flatter my +sworn brother, the people, to earn a dearer +estimation of them; 'tis a condition they account +gentle: and since the wisdom of their choice is +rather to have my hat than my heart, I will practise +the insinuating nod and be off to them most +counterfeitly; that is, sir, I will counterfeit the +bewitchment of some popular man and give it +bountiful to the desirers. Therefore, beseech you, +I may be consul. + +Fifth Citizen: +We hope to find you our friend; and therefore give +you our voices heartily. + +Fourth Citizen: +You have received many wounds for your country. + +CORIOLANUS: +I will not seal your knowledge with showing them. I +will make much of your voices, and so trouble you no further. + +Both Citizens: +The gods give you joy, sir, heartily! + +CORIOLANUS: +Most sweet voices! +Better it is to die, better to starve, +Than crave the hire which first we do deserve. +Why in this woolvish toge should I stand here, +To beg of Hob and Dick, that do appear, +Their needless vouches? Custom calls me to't: +What custom wills, in all things should we do't, +The dust on antique time would lie unswept, +And mountainous error be too highly heapt +For truth to o'er-peer. Rather than fool it so, +Let the high office and the honour go +To one that would do thus. I am half through; +The one part suffer'd, the other will I do. +Here come more voices. +Your voices: for your voices I have fought; +Watch'd for your voices; for Your voices bear +Of wounds two dozen odd; battles thrice six +I have seen and heard of; for your voices have +Done many things, some less, some more your voices: +Indeed I would be consul. + +Sixth Citizen: +He has done nobly, and cannot go without any honest +man's voice. + +Seventh Citizen: +Therefore let him be consul: the gods give him joy, +and make him good friend to the people! + +All Citizens: +Amen, amen. God save thee, noble consul! + +CORIOLANUS: +Worthy voices! + +MENENIUS: +You have stood your limitation; and the tribunes +Endue you with the people's voice: remains +That, in the official marks invested, you +Anon do meet the senate. + +CORIOLANUS: +Is this done? + +SICINIUS: +The custom of request you have discharged: +The people do admit you, and are summon'd +To meet anon, upon your approbation. + +CORIOLANUS: +Where? at the senate-house? + +SICINIUS: +There, Coriolanus. + +CORIOLANUS: +May I change these garments? + +SICINIUS: +You may, sir. + +CORIOLANUS: +That I'll straight do; and, knowing myself again, +Repair to the senate-house. + +MENENIUS: +I'll keep you company. Will you along? + +BRUTUS: +We stay here for the people. + +SICINIUS: +Fare you well. +He has it now, and by his looks methink +'Tis warm at 's heart. + +BRUTUS: +With a proud heart he wore his humble weeds. +will you dismiss the people? + +SICINIUS: +How now, my masters! have you chose this man? + +First Citizen: +He has our voices, sir. + +BRUTUS: +We pray the gods he may deserve your loves. + +Second Citizen: +Amen, sir: to my poor unworthy notice, +He mock'd us when he begg'd our voices. + +Third Citizen: +Certainly +He flouted us downright. + +First Citizen: +No,'tis his kind of speech: he did not mock us. + +Second Citizen: +Not one amongst us, save yourself, but says +He used us scornfully: he should have show'd us +His marks of merit, wounds received for's country. + +SICINIUS: +Why, so he did, I am sure. + +Citizens: +No, no; no man saw 'em. + +Third Citizen: +He said he had wounds, which he could show +in private; +And with his hat, thus waving it in scorn, +'I would be consul,' says he: 'aged custom, +But by your voices, will not so permit me; +Your voices therefore.' When we granted that, +Here was 'I thank you for your voices: thank you: +Your most sweet voices: now you have left +your voices, +I have no further with you.' Was not this mockery? + +SICINIUS: +Why either were you ignorant to see't, +Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness +To yield your voices? + +BRUTUS: +Could you not have told him +As you were lesson'd, when he had no power, +But was a petty servant to the state, +He was your enemy, ever spake against +Your liberties and the charters that you bear +I' the body of the weal; and now, arriving +A place of potency and sway o' the state, +If he should still malignantly remain +Fast foe to the plebeii, your voices might +Be curses to yourselves? You should have said +That as his worthy deeds did claim no less +Than what he stood for, so his gracious nature +Would think upon you for your voices and +Translate his malice towards you into love, +Standing your friendly lord. + +SICINIUS: +Thus to have said, +As you were fore-advised, had touch'd his spirit +And tried his inclination; from him pluck'd +Either his gracious promise, which you might, +As cause had call'd you up, have held him to +Or else it would have gall'd his surly nature, +Which easily endures not article +Tying him to aught; so putting him to rage, +You should have ta'en the advantage of his choler +And pass'd him unelected. + +BRUTUS: +Did you perceive +He did solicit you in free contempt +When he did need your loves, and do you think +That his contempt shall not be bruising to you, +When he hath power to crush? Why, had your bodies +No heart among you? or had you tongues to cry +Against the rectorship of judgment? + +SICINIUS: +Have you +Ere now denied the asker? and now again +Of him that did not ask, but mock, bestow +Your sued-for tongues? + +Third Citizen: +He's not confirm'd; we may deny him yet. + +Second Citizen: +And will deny him: +I'll have five hundred voices of that sound. + +First Citizen: +I twice five hundred and their friends to piece 'em. + +BRUTUS: +Get you hence instantly, and tell those friends, +They have chose a consul that will from them take +Their liberties; make them of no more voice +Than dogs that are as often beat for barking +As therefore kept to do so. + +SICINIUS: +Let them assemble, +And on a safer judgment all revoke +Your ignorant election; enforce his pride, +And his old hate unto you; besides, forget not +With what contempt he wore the humble weed, +How in his suit he scorn'd you; but your loves, +Thinking upon his services, took from you +The apprehension of his present portance, +Which most gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion +After the inveterate hate he bears you. + +BRUTUS: +Lay +A fault on us, your tribunes; that we laboured, +No impediment between, but that you must +Cast your election on him. + +SICINIUS: +Say, you chose him +More after our commandment than as guided +By your own true affections, and that your minds, +Preoccupied with what you rather must do +Than what you should, made you against the grain +To voice him consul: lay the fault on us. + +BRUTUS: +Ay, spare us not. Say we read lectures to you. +How youngly he began to serve his country, +How long continued, and what stock he springs of, +The noble house o' the Marcians, from whence came +That Ancus Marcius, Numa's daughter's son, +Who, after great Hostilius, here was king; +Of the same house Publius and Quintus were, +That our beat water brought by conduits hither; +And +Twice being +Was his great ancestor. + +SICINIUS: +One thus descended, +That hath beside well in his person wrought +To be set high in place, we did commend +To your remembrances: but you have found, +Scaling his present bearing with his past, +That he's your fixed enemy, and revoke +Your sudden approbation. + +BRUTUS: +Say, you ne'er had done't-- +Harp on that still--but by our putting on; +And presently, when you have drawn your number, +Repair to the Capitol. + +All: +We will so: almost all +Repent in their election. + +BRUTUS: +Let them go on; +This mutiny were better put in hazard, +Than stay, past doubt, for greater: +If, as his nature is, he fall in rage +With their refusal, both observe and answer +The vantage of his anger. + +SICINIUS: +To the Capitol, come: +We will be there before the stream o' the people; +And this shall seem, as partly 'tis, their own, +Which we have goaded onward. + +CORIOLANUS: +Tullus Aufidius then had made new head? + +LARTIUS: +He had, my lord; and that it was which caused +Our swifter composition. + +CORIOLANUS: +So then the Volsces stand but as at first, +Ready, when time shall prompt them, to make road. +Upon's again. + +COMINIUS: +They are worn, lord consul, so, +That we shall hardly in our ages see +Their banners wave again. + +CORIOLANUS: +Saw you Aufidius? + +LARTIUS: +On safe-guard he came to me; and did curse +Against the Volsces, for they had so vilely +Yielded the town: he is retired to Antium. + +CORIOLANUS: +Spoke he of me? + +LARTIUS: +He did, my lord. + +CORIOLANUS: +How? what? + +LARTIUS: +How often he had met you, sword to sword; +That of all things upon the earth he hated +Your person most, that he would pawn his fortunes +To hopeless restitution, so he might +Be call'd your vanquisher. + +CORIOLANUS: +At Antium lives he? + +LARTIUS: +At Antium. + +CORIOLANUS: +I wish I had a cause to seek him there, +To oppose his hatred fully. Welcome home. +Behold, these are the tribunes of the people, +The tongues o' the common mouth: I do despise them; +For they do prank them in authority, +Against all noble sufferance. + +SICINIUS: +Pass no further. + +CORIOLANUS: +Ha! what is that? + +BRUTUS: +It will be dangerous to go on: no further. + +CORIOLANUS: +What makes this change? + +MENENIUS: +The matter? + +COMINIUS: +Hath he not pass'd the noble and the common? + +BRUTUS: +Cominius, no. + +CORIOLANUS: +Have I had children's voices? + +First Senator: +Tribunes, give way; he shall to the market-place. + +BRUTUS: +The people are incensed against him. + +SICINIUS: +Stop, +Or all will fall in broil. + +CORIOLANUS: +Are these your herd? +Must these have voices, that can yield them now +And straight disclaim their tongues? What are +your offices? +You being their mouths, why rule you not their teeth? +Have you not set them on? + +MENENIUS: +Be calm, be calm. + +CORIOLANUS: +It is a purposed thing, and grows by plot, +To curb the will of the nobility: +Suffer't, and live with such as cannot rule +Nor ever will be ruled. + +BRUTUS: +Call't not a plot: +The people cry you mock'd them, and of late, +When corn was given them gratis, you repined; +Scandal'd the suppliants for the people, call'd them +Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness. + +CORIOLANUS: +Why, this was known before. + +BRUTUS: +Not to them all. + +CORIOLANUS: +Have you inform'd them sithence? + +BRUTUS: +How! I inform them! + +CORIOLANUS: +You are like to do such business. + +BRUTUS: +Not unlike, +Each way, to better yours. + +CORIOLANUS: +Why then should I be consul? By yond clouds, +Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me +Your fellow tribune. + +SICINIUS: +You show too much of that +For which the people stir: if you will pass +To where you are bound, you must inquire your way, +Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit, +Or never be so noble as a consul, +Nor yoke with him for tribune. + +MENENIUS: +Let's be calm. + +COMINIUS: +The people are abused; set on. This paltering +Becomes not Rome, nor has Coriolanus +Deserved this so dishonour'd rub, laid falsely +I' the plain way of his merit. + +CORIOLANUS: +Tell me of corn! +This was my speech, and I will speak't again-- + +MENENIUS: +Not now, not now. + +First Senator: +Not in this heat, sir, now. + +CORIOLANUS: +Now, as I live, I will. My nobler friends, +I crave their pardons: +For the mutable, rank-scented many, let them +Regard me as I do not flatter, and +Therein behold themselves: I say again, +In soothing them, we nourish 'gainst our senate +The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition, +Which we ourselves have plough'd for, sow'd, +and scatter'd, +By mingling them with us, the honour'd number, +Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that +Which they have given to beggars. + +MENENIUS: +Well, no more. + +First Senator: +No more words, we beseech you. + +CORIOLANUS: +How! no more! +As for my country I have shed my blood, +Not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs +Coin words till their decay against those measles, +Which we disdain should tatter us, yet sought +The very way to catch them. + +BRUTUS: +You speak o' the people, +As if you were a god to punish, not +A man of their infirmity. + +SICINIUS: +'Twere well +We let the people know't. + +MENENIUS: +What, what? his choler? + +CORIOLANUS: +Choler! +Were I as patient as the midnight sleep, +By Jove, 'twould be my mind! + +SICINIUS: +It is a mind +That shall remain a poison where it is, +Not poison any further. + +CORIOLANUS: +Shall remain! +Hear you this Triton of the minnows? mark you +His absolute 'shall'? + +COMINIUS: +'Twas from the canon. + +CORIOLANUS: +'Shall'! +O good but most unwise patricians! why, +You grave but reckless senators, have you thus +Given Hydra here to choose an officer, +That with his peremptory 'shall,' being but +The horn and noise o' the monster's, wants not spirit +To say he'll turn your current in a ditch, +And make your channel his? If he have power +Then vail your ignorance; if none, awake +Your dangerous lenity. If you are learn'd, +Be not as common fools; if you are not, +Let them have cushions by you. You are plebeians, +If they be senators: and they are no less, +When, both your voices blended, the great'st taste +Most palates theirs. They choose their magistrate, +And such a one as he, who puts his 'shall,' +His popular 'shall' against a graver bench +Than ever frown in Greece. By Jove himself! +It makes the consuls base: and my soul aches +To know, when two authorities are up, +Neither supreme, how soon confusion +May enter 'twixt the gap of both and take +The one by the other. + +COMINIUS: +Well, on to the market-place. + +CORIOLANUS: +Whoever gave that counsel, to give forth +The corn o' the storehouse gratis, as 'twas used +Sometime in Greece,-- + +MENENIUS: +Well, well, no more of that. + +CORIOLANUS: +Though there the people had more absolute power, +I say, they nourish'd disobedience, fed +The ruin of the state. + +BRUTUS: +Why, shall the people give +One that speaks thus their voice? + +CORIOLANUS: +I'll give my reasons, +More worthier than their voices. They know the corn +Was not our recompense, resting well assured +That ne'er did service for't: being press'd to the war, +Even when the navel of the state was touch'd, +They would not thread the gates. This kind of service +Did not deserve corn gratis. Being i' the war +Their mutinies and revolts, wherein they show'd +Most valour, spoke not for them: the accusation +Which they have often made against the senate, +All cause unborn, could never be the motive +Of our so frank donation. Well, what then? +How shall this bisson multitude digest +The senate's courtesy? Let deeds express +What's like to be their words: 'we did request it; +We are the greater poll, and in true fear +They gave us our demands.' Thus we debase +The nature of our seats and make the rabble +Call our cares fears; which will in time +Break ope the locks o' the senate and bring in +The crows to peck the eagles. + +MENENIUS: +Come, enough. + +BRUTUS: +Enough, with over-measure. + +CORIOLANUS: +No, take more: +What may be sworn by, both divine and human, +Seal what I end withal! This double worship, +Where one part does disdain with cause, the other +Insult without all reason, where gentry, title, wisdom, +Cannot conclude but by the yea and no +Of general ignorance,--it must omit +Real necessities, and give way the while +To unstable slightness: purpose so barr'd, +it follows, +Nothing is done to purpose. Therefore, beseech you,-- +You that will be less fearful than discreet, +That love the fundamental part of state +More than you doubt the change on't, that prefer +A noble life before a long, and wish +To jump a body with a dangerous physic +That's sure of death without it, at once pluck out +The multitudinous tongue; let them not lick +The sweet which is their poison: your dishonour +Mangles true judgment and bereaves the state +Of that integrity which should become't, +Not having the power to do the good it would, +For the in which doth control't. + +BRUTUS: +Has said enough. + +SICINIUS: +Has spoken like a traitor, and shall answer +As traitors do. + +CORIOLANUS: +Thou wretch, despite o'erwhelm thee! +What should the people do with these bald tribunes? +On whom depending, their obedience fails +To the greater bench: in a rebellion, +When what's not meet, but what must be, was law, +Then were they chosen: in a better hour, +Let what is meet be said it must be meet, +And throw their power i' the dust. + +BRUTUS: +Manifest treason! + +SICINIUS: +This a consul? no. + +BRUTUS: +The aediles, ho! +Let him be apprehended. + +SICINIUS: +Go, call the people: +in whose name myself +Attach thee as a traitorous innovator, +A foe to the public weal: obey, I charge thee, +And follow to thine answer. + +CORIOLANUS: +Hence, old goat! + +Senators, &C: +We'll surety him. + +COMINIUS: +Aged sir, hands off. + +CORIOLANUS: +Hence, rotten thing! or I shall shake thy bones +Out of thy garments. + +SICINIUS: +Help, ye citizens! + +MENENIUS: +On both sides more respect. + +SICINIUS: +Here's he that would take from you all your power. + +BRUTUS: +Seize him, AEdiles! + +Citizens: +Down with him! down with him! + +Senators, &C: +Weapons, weapons, weapons! +'Tribunes!' 'Patricians!' 'Citizens!' 'What, ho!' +'Sicinius!' 'Brutus!' 'Coriolanus!' 'Citizens!' +'Peace, peace, peace!' 'Stay, hold, peace!' + +MENENIUS: +What is about to be? I am out of breath; +Confusion's near; I cannot speak. You, tribunes +To the people! Coriolanus, patience! +Speak, good Sicinius. + +SICINIUS: +Hear me, people; peace! + +Citizens: +Let's hear our tribune: peace Speak, speak, speak. + +SICINIUS: +You are at point to lose your liberties: +Marcius would have all from you; Marcius, +Whom late you have named for consul. + +MENENIUS: +Fie, fie, fie! +This is the way to kindle, not to quench. + +First Senator: +To unbuild the city and to lay all flat. + +SICINIUS: +What is the city but the people? + +Citizens: +True, +The people are the city. + +BRUTUS: +By the consent of all, we were establish'd +The people's magistrates. + +Citizens: +You so remain. + +MENENIUS: +And so are like to do. + +COMINIUS: +That is the way to lay the city flat; +To bring the roof to the foundation, +And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges, +In heaps and piles of ruin. + +SICINIUS: +This deserves death. + +BRUTUS: +Or let us stand to our authority, +Or let us lose it. We do here pronounce, +Upon the part o' the people, in whose power +We were elected theirs, Marcius is worthy +Of present death. + +SICINIUS: +Therefore lay hold of him; +Bear him to the rock Tarpeian, and from thence +Into destruction cast him. + +BRUTUS: +AEdiles, seize him! + +Citizens: +Yield, Marcius, yield! + +MENENIUS: +Hear me one word; +Beseech you, tribunes, hear me but a word. + +AEdile: +Peace, peace! + +MENENIUS: + +BRUTUS: +Sir, those cold ways, +That seem like prudent helps, are very poisonous +Where the disease is violent. Lay hands upon him, +And bear him to the rock. + +CORIOLANUS: +No, I'll die here. +There's some among you have beheld me fighting: +Come, try upon yourselves what you have seen me. + +MENENIUS: +Down with that sword! Tribunes, withdraw awhile. + +BRUTUS: +Lay hands upon him. + +COMINIUS: +Help Marcius, help, +You that be noble; help him, young and old! + +Citizens: +Down with him, down with him! + +MENENIUS: +Go, get you to your house; be gone, away! +All will be naught else. + +Second Senator: +Get you gone. + +COMINIUS: +Stand fast; +We have as many friends as enemies. + +MENENIUS: +Sham it be put to that? + +First Senator: +The gods forbid! +I prithee, noble friend, home to thy house; +Leave us to cure this cause. + +MENENIUS: +For 'tis a sore upon us, +You cannot tent yourself: be gone, beseech you. + +COMINIUS: +Come, sir, along with us. + +CORIOLANUS: +I would they were barbarians--as they are, +Though in Rome litter'd--not Romans--as they are not, +Though calved i' the porch o' the Capitol-- + +MENENIUS: +Be gone; +Put not your worthy rage into your tongue; +One time will owe another. + +CORIOLANUS: +On fair ground +I could beat forty of them. + +COMINIUS: +I could myself +Take up a brace o' the best of them; yea, the +two tribunes: +But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic; +And manhood is call'd foolery, when it stands +Against a falling fabric. Will you hence, +Before the tag return? whose rage doth rend +Like interrupted waters and o'erbear +What they are used to bear. + +MENENIUS: +Pray you, be gone: +I'll try whether my old wit be in request +With those that have but little: this must be patch'd +With cloth of any colour. + +COMINIUS: +Nay, come away. + +A Patrician: +This man has marr'd his fortune. + +MENENIUS: +His nature is too noble for the world: +He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, +Or Jove for's power to thunder. His heart's his mouth: +What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent; +And, being angry, does forget that ever +He heard the name of death. +Here's goodly work! + +Second Patrician: +I would they were abed! + +MENENIUS: +I would they were in Tiber! What the vengeance! +Could he not speak 'em fair? + +SICINIUS: +Where is this viper +That would depopulate the city and +Be every man himself? + +MENENIUS: +You worthy tribunes,-- + +SICINIUS: +He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock +With rigorous hands: he hath resisted law, +And therefore law shall scorn him further trial +Than the severity of the public power +Which he so sets at nought. + +First Citizen: +He shall well know +The noble tribunes are the people's mouths, +And we their hands. + +Citizens: +He shall, sure on't. + +MENENIUS: +Sir, sir,-- + +SICINIUS: +Peace! + +MENENIUS: +Do not cry havoc, where you should but hunt +With modest warrant. + +SICINIUS: +Sir, how comes't that you +Have holp to make this rescue? + +MENENIUS: +Hear me speak: +As I do know the consul's worthiness, +So can I name his faults,-- + +SICINIUS: +Consul! what consul? + +MENENIUS: +The consul Coriolanus. + +BRUTUS: +He consul! + +Citizens: +No, no, no, no, no. + +MENENIUS: +If, by the tribunes' leave, and yours, good people, +I may be heard, I would crave a word or two; +The which shall turn you to no further harm +Than so much loss of time. + +SICINIUS: +Speak briefly then; +For we are peremptory to dispatch +This viperous traitor: to eject him hence +Were but one danger, and to keep him here +Our certain death: therefore it is decreed +He dies to-night. + +MENENIUS: +Now the good gods forbid +That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude +Towards her deserved children is enroll'd +In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam +Should now eat up her own! + +SICINIUS: +He's a disease that must be cut away. + +MENENIUS: +O, he's a limb that has but a disease; +Mortal, to cut it off; to cure it, easy. +What has he done to Rome that's worthy death? +Killing our enemies, the blood he hath lost-- +Which, I dare vouch, is more than that he hath, +By many an ounce--he dropp'd it for his country; +And what is left, to lose it by his country, +Were to us all, that do't and suffer it, +A brand to the end o' the world. + +SICINIUS: +This is clean kam. + +BRUTUS: +Merely awry: when he did love his country, +It honour'd him. + +MENENIUS: +The service of the foot +Being once gangrened, is not then respected +For what before it was. + +BRUTUS: +We'll hear no more. +Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence: +Lest his infection, being of catching nature, +Spread further. + +MENENIUS: +One word more, one word. +This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find +The harm of unscann'd swiftness, will too late +Tie leaden pounds to's heels. Proceed by process; +Lest parties, as he is beloved, break out, +And sack great Rome with Romans. + +BRUTUS: +If it were so,-- + +SICINIUS: +What do ye talk? +Have we not had a taste of his obedience? +Our aediles smote? ourselves resisted? Come. + +MENENIUS: +Consider this: he has been bred i' the wars +Since he could draw a sword, and is ill school'd +In bolted language; meal and bran together +He throws without distinction. Give me leave, +I'll go to him, and undertake to bring him +Where he shall answer, by a lawful form, +In peace, to his utmost peril. + +First Senator: +Noble tribunes, +It is the humane way: the other course +Will prove too bloody, and the end of it +Unknown to the beginning. + +SICINIUS: +Noble Menenius, +Be you then as the people's officer. +Masters, lay down your weapons. + +BRUTUS: +Go not home. + +SICINIUS: +Meet on the market-place. We'll attend you there: +Where, if you bring not Marcius, we'll proceed +In our first way. + +MENENIUS: +I'll bring him to you. +Let me desire your company: he must come, +Or what is worst will follow. + +First Senator: +Pray you, let's to him. + +CORIOLANUS: +Let them puff all about mine ears, present me +Death on the wheel or at wild horses' heels, +Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock, +That the precipitation might down stretch +Below the beam of sight, yet will I still +Be thus to them. + +A Patrician: +You do the nobler. + +CORIOLANUS: +I muse my mother +Does not approve me further, who was wont +To call them woollen vassals, things created +To buy and sell with groats, to show bare heads +In congregations, to yawn, be still and wonder, +When one but of my ordinance stood up +To speak of peace or war. +I talk of you: +Why did you wish me milder? would you have me +False to my nature? Rather say I play +The man I am. + +VOLUMNIA: +O, sir, sir, sir, +I would have had you put your power well on, +Before you had worn it out. + +CORIOLANUS: +Let go. + +VOLUMNIA: +You might have been enough the man you are, +With striving less to be so; lesser had been +The thwartings of your dispositions, if +You had not show'd them how ye were disposed +Ere they lack'd power to cross you. + +CORIOLANUS: +Let them hang. + +A Patrician: +Ay, and burn too. + +MENENIUS: +Come, come, you have been too rough, something +too rough; +You must return and mend it. + +First Senator: +There's no remedy; +Unless, by not so doing, our good city +Cleave in the midst, and perish. + +VOLUMNIA: +Pray, be counsell'd: +I have a heart as little apt as yours, +But yet a brain that leads my use of anger +To better vantage. + +MENENIUS: +Well said, noble woman? +Before he should thus stoop to the herd, but that +The violent fit o' the time craves it as physic +For the whole state, I would put mine armour on, +Which I can scarcely bear. + +CORIOLANUS: +What must I do? + +MENENIUS: +Return to the tribunes. + +CORIOLANUS: +Well, what then? what then? + +MENENIUS: +Repent what you have spoke. + +CORIOLANUS: +For them! I cannot do it to the gods; +Must I then do't to them? + +VOLUMNIA: +You are too absolute; +Though therein you can never be too noble, +But when extremities speak. I have heard you say, +Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends, +I' the war do grow together: grant that, and tell me, +In peace what each of them by the other lose, +That they combine not there. + +CORIOLANUS: +Tush, tush! + +MENENIUS: +A good demand. + +VOLUMNIA: +If it be honour in your wars to seem +The same you are not, which, for your best ends, +You adopt your policy, how is it less or worse, +That it shall hold companionship in peace +With honour, as in war, since that to both +It stands in like request? + +CORIOLANUS: +Why force you this? + +VOLUMNIA: +Because that now it lies you on to speak +To the people; not by your own instruction, +Nor by the matter which your heart prompts you, +But with such words that are but rooted in +Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables +Of no allowance to your bosom's truth. +Now, this no more dishonours you at all +Than to take in a town with gentle words, +Which else would put you to your fortune and +The hazard of much blood. +I would dissemble with my nature where +My fortunes and my friends at stake required +I should do so in honour: I am in this, +Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles; +And you will rather show our general louts +How you can frown than spend a fawn upon 'em, +For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard +Of what that want might ruin. + +MENENIUS: +Noble lady! +Come, go with us; speak fair: you may salve so, +Not what is dangerous present, but the loss +Of what is past. + +VOLUMNIA: +I prithee now, my son, +Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand; +And thus far having stretch'd it--here be with them-- +Thy knee bussing the stones--for in such business +Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant +More learned than the ears--waving thy head, +Which often, thus, correcting thy stout heart, +Now humble as the ripest mulberry +That will not hold the handling: or say to them, +Thou art their soldier, and being bred in broils +Hast not the soft way which, thou dost confess, +Were fit for thee to use as they to claim, +In asking their good loves, but thou wilt frame +Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far +As thou hast power and person. + +MENENIUS: +This but done, +Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were yours; +For they have pardons, being ask'd, as free +As words to little purpose. + +VOLUMNIA: +Prithee now, +Go, and be ruled: although I know thou hadst rather +Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf +Than flatter him in a bower. Here is Cominius. + +COMINIUS: +I have been i' the market-place; and, sir,'tis fit +You make strong party, or defend yourself +By calmness or by absence: all's in anger. + +MENENIUS: +Only fair speech. + +COMINIUS: +I think 'twill serve, if he +Can thereto frame his spirit. + +VOLUMNIA: +He must, and will +Prithee now, say you will, and go about it. + +CORIOLANUS: +Must I go show them my unbarbed sconce? +Must I with base tongue give my noble heart +A lie that it must bear? Well, I will do't: +Yet, were there but this single plot to lose, +This mould of Marcius, they to dust should grind it +And throw't against the wind. To the market-place! +You have put me now to such a part which never +I shall discharge to the life. + +COMINIUS: +Come, come, we'll prompt you. + +VOLUMNIA: +I prithee now, sweet son, as thou hast said +My praises made thee first a soldier, so, +To have my praise for this, perform a part +Thou hast not done before. + +CORIOLANUS: +Well, I must do't: +Away, my disposition, and possess me +Some harlot's spirit! my throat of war be turn'd, +Which quired with my drum, into a pipe +Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice +That babies lulls asleep! the smiles of knaves +Tent in my cheeks, and schoolboys' tears take up +The glasses of my sight! a beggar's tongue +Make motion through my lips, and my arm'd knees, +Who bow'd but in my stirrup, bend like his +That hath received an alms! I will not do't, +Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth +And by my body's action teach my mind +A most inherent baseness. + +VOLUMNIA: +At thy choice, then: +To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour +Than thou of them. Come all to ruin; let +Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear +Thy dangerous stoutness, for I mock at death +With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list +Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck'dst it from me, +But owe thy pride thyself. + +CORIOLANUS: +Pray, be content: +Mother, I am going to the market-place; +Chide me no more. I'll mountebank their loves, +Cog their hearts from them, and come home beloved +Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going: +Commend me to my wife. I'll return consul; +Or never trust to what my tongue can do +I' the way of flattery further. + +VOLUMNIA: +Do your will. + +COMINIUS: +Away! the tribunes do attend you: arm yourself +To answer mildly; for they are prepared +With accusations, as I hear, more strong +Than are upon you yet. + +CORIOLANUS: +The word is 'mildly.' Pray you, let us go: +Let them accuse me by invention, I +Will answer in mine honour. + +MENENIUS: +Ay, but mildly. + +CORIOLANUS: +Well, mildly be it then. Mildly! + +BRUTUS: +In this point charge him home, that he affects +Tyrannical power: if he evade us there, +Enforce him with his envy to the people, +And that the spoil got on the Antiates +Was ne'er distributed. +What, will he come? + +AEdile: +He's coming. + +BRUTUS: +How accompanied? + +AEdile: +With old Menenius, and those senators +That always favour'd him. + +SICINIUS: +Have you a catalogue +Of all the voices that we have procured +Set down by the poll? + +AEdile: +I have; 'tis ready. + +SICINIUS: +Have you collected them by tribes? + +AEdile: +I have. + +SICINIUS: +Assemble presently the people hither; +And when they bear me say 'It shall be so +I' the right and strength o' the commons,' be it either +For death, for fine, or banishment, then let them +If I say fine, cry 'Fine;' if death, cry 'Death.' +Insisting on the old prerogative +And power i' the truth o' the cause. + +AEdile: +I shall inform them. + +BRUTUS: +And when such time they have begun to cry, +Let them not cease, but with a din confused +Enforce the present execution +Of what we chance to sentence. + +AEdile: +Very well. + +SICINIUS: +Make them be strong and ready for this hint, +When we shall hap to give 't them. + +BRUTUS: +Go about it. +Put him to choler straight: he hath been used +Ever to conquer, and to have his worth +Of contradiction: being once chafed, he cannot +Be rein'd again to temperance; then he speaks +What's in his heart; and that is there which looks +With us to break his neck. + +SICINIUS: +Well, here he comes. + +MENENIUS: +Calmly, I do beseech you. + +CORIOLANUS: +Ay, as an ostler, that for the poorest piece +Will bear the knave by the volume. The honour'd gods +Keep Rome in safety, and the chairs of justice +Supplied with worthy men! plant love among 's! +Throng our large temples with the shows of peace, +And not our streets with war! + +First Senator: +Amen, amen. + +MENENIUS: +A noble wish. + +SICINIUS: +Draw near, ye people. + +AEdile: +List to your tribunes. Audience: peace, I say! + +CORIOLANUS: +First, hear me speak. + +Both Tribunes: +Well, say. Peace, ho! + +CORIOLANUS: +Shall I be charged no further than this present? +Must all determine here? + +SICINIUS: +I do demand, +If you submit you to the people's voices, +Allow their officers and are content +To suffer lawful censure for such faults +As shall be proved upon you? + +CORIOLANUS: +I am content. + +MENENIUS: +Lo, citizens, he says he is content: +The warlike service he has done, consider; think +Upon the wounds his body bears, which show +Like graves i' the holy churchyard. + +CORIOLANUS: +Scratches with briers, +Scars to move laughter only. + +MENENIUS: +Consider further, +That when he speaks not like a citizen, +You find him like a soldier: do not take +His rougher accents for malicious sounds, +But, as I say, such as become a soldier, +Rather than envy you. + +COMINIUS: +Well, well, no more. + +CORIOLANUS: +What is the matter +That being pass'd for consul with full voice, +I am so dishonour'd that the very hour +You take it off again? + +SICINIUS: +Answer to us. + +CORIOLANUS: +Say, then: 'tis true, I ought so. + +SICINIUS: +We charge you, that you have contrived to take +From Rome all season'd office and to wind +Yourself into a power tyrannical; +For which you are a traitor to the people. + +CORIOLANUS: +How! traitor! + +MENENIUS: +Nay, temperately; your promise. + +CORIOLANUS: +The fires i' the lowest hell fold-in the people! +Call me their traitor! Thou injurious tribune! +Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, +In thy hand clutch'd as many millions, in +Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say +'Thou liest' unto thee with a voice as free +As I do pray the gods. + +SICINIUS: +Mark you this, people? + +Citizens: +To the rock, to the rock with him! + +SICINIUS: +Peace! +We need not put new matter to his charge: +What you have seen him do and heard him speak, +Beating your officers, cursing yourselves, +Opposing laws with strokes and here defying +Those whose great power must try him; even this, +So criminal and in such capital kind, +Deserves the extremest death. + +BRUTUS: +But since he hath +Served well for Rome,-- + +CORIOLANUS: +What do you prate of service? + +BRUTUS: +I talk of that, that know it. + +CORIOLANUS: +You? + +MENENIUS: +Is this the promise that you made your mother? + +COMINIUS: +Know, I pray you,-- + +CORIOLANUS: +I know no further: +Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death, +Vagabond exile, raying, pent to linger +But with a grain a day, I would not buy +Their mercy at the price of one fair word; +Nor cheque my courage for what they can give, +To have't with saying 'Good morrow.' + +SICINIUS: +For that he has, +As much as in him lies, from time to time +Envied against the people, seeking means +To pluck away their power, as now at last +Given hostile strokes, and that not in the presence +Of dreaded justice, but on the ministers +That do distribute it; in the name o' the people +And in the power of us the tribunes, we, +Even from this instant, banish him our city, +In peril of precipitation +From off the rock Tarpeian never more +To enter our Rome gates: i' the people's name, +I say it shall be so. + +Citizens: +It shall be so, it shall be so; let him away: +He's banish'd, and it shall be so. + +COMINIUS: +Hear me, my masters, and my common friends,-- + +SICINIUS: +He's sentenced; no more hearing. + +COMINIUS: +Let me speak: +I have been consul, and can show for Rome +Her enemies' marks upon me. I do love +My country's good with a respect more tender, +More holy and profound, than mine own life, +My dear wife's estimate, her womb's increase, +And treasure of my loins; then if I would +Speak that,-- + +SICINIUS: +We know your drift: speak what? + +BRUTUS: +There's no more to be said, but he is banish'd, +As enemy to the people and his country: +It shall be so. + +Citizens: +It shall be so, it shall be so. + +CORIOLANUS: +You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate +As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize +As the dead carcasses of unburied men +That do corrupt my air, I banish you; +And here remain with your uncertainty! +Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts! +Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes, +Fan you into despair! Have the power still +To banish your defenders; till at length +Your ignorance, which finds not till it feels, +Making not reservation of yourselves, +Still your own foes, deliver you as most +Abated captives to some nation +That won you without blows! Despising, +For you, the city, thus I turn my back: +There is a world elsewhere. + +AEdile: +The people's enemy is gone, is gone! + +Citizens: +Our enemy is banish'd! he is gone! Hoo! hoo! + +SICINIUS: +Go, see him out at gates, and follow him, +As he hath followed you, with all despite; +Give him deserved vexation. Let a guard +Attend us through the city. + +Citizens: +Come, come; let's see him out at gates; come. +The gods preserve our noble tribunes! Come. + +CORIOLANUS: +Come, leave your tears: a brief farewell: the beast +With many heads butts me away. Nay, mother, +Where is your ancient courage? you were used +To say extremity was the trier of spirits; +That common chances common men could bear; +That when the sea was calm all boats alike +Show'd mastership in floating; fortune's blows, +When most struck home, being gentle wounded, craves +A noble cunning: you were used to load me +With precepts that would make invincible +The heart that conn'd them. + +VIRGILIA: +O heavens! O heavens! + +CORIOLANUS: +Nay! prithee, woman,-- + +VOLUMNIA: +Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome, +And occupations perish! + +CORIOLANUS: +What, what, what! +I shall be loved when I am lack'd. Nay, mother. +Resume that spirit, when you were wont to say, +If you had been the wife of Hercules, +Six of his labours you'ld have done, and saved +Your husband so much sweat. Cominius, +Droop not; adieu. Farewell, my wife, my mother: +I'll do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius, +Thy tears are salter than a younger man's, +And venomous to thine eyes. My sometime general, +I have seen thee stem, and thou hast oft beheld +Heart-hardening spectacles; tell these sad women +'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes, +As 'tis to laugh at 'em. My mother, you wot well +My hazards still have been your solace: and +Believe't not lightly--though I go alone, +Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen +Makes fear'd and talk'd of more than seen--your son +Will or exceed the common or be caught +With cautelous baits and practise. + +VOLUMNIA: +My first son. +Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius +With thee awhile: determine on some course, +More than a wild exposture to each chance +That starts i' the way before thee. + +CORIOLANUS: +O the gods! + +COMINIUS: +I'll follow thee a month, devise with thee +Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear of us +And we of thee: so if the time thrust forth +A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send +O'er the vast world to seek a single man, +And lose advantage, which doth ever cool +I' the absence of the needer. + +CORIOLANUS: +Fare ye well: +Thou hast years upon thee; and thou art too full +Of the wars' surfeits, to go rove with one +That's yet unbruised: bring me but out at gate. +Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and +My friends of noble touch, when I am forth, +Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come. +While I remain above the ground, you shall +Hear from me still, and never of me aught +But what is like me formerly. + +MENENIUS: +That's worthily +As any ear can hear. Come, let's not weep. +If I could shake off but one seven years +From these old arms and legs, by the good gods, +I'ld with thee every foot. + +CORIOLANUS: +Give me thy hand: Come. + +SICINIUS: +Bid them all home; he's gone, and we'll no further. +The nobility are vex'd, whom we see have sided +In his behalf. + +BRUTUS: +Now we have shown our power, +Let us seem humbler after it is done +Than when it was a-doing. + +SICINIUS: +Bid them home: +Say their great enemy is gone, and they +Stand in their ancient strength. + +BRUTUS: +Dismiss them home. +Here comes his mother. + +SICINIUS: +Let's not meet her. + +BRUTUS: +Why? + +SICINIUS: +They say she's mad. + +BRUTUS: +They have ta'en note of us: keep on your way. + +VOLUMNIA: +O, ye're well met: the hoarded plague o' the gods +Requite your love! + +MENENIUS: +Peace, peace; be not so loud. + +VOLUMNIA: +If that I could for weeping, you should hear,-- +Nay, and you shall hear some. +Will you be gone? + +VIRGILIA: + +SICINIUS: +Are you mankind? + +VOLUMNIA: +Ay, fool; is that a shame? Note but this fool. +Was not a man my father? Hadst thou foxship +To banish him that struck more blows for Rome +Than thou hast spoken words? + +SICINIUS: +O blessed heavens! + +VOLUMNIA: +More noble blows than ever thou wise words; +And for Rome's good. I'll tell thee what; yet go: +Nay, but thou shalt stay too: I would my son +Were in Arabia, and thy tribe before him, +His good sword in his hand. + +SICINIUS: +What then? + +VIRGILIA: +What then! +He'ld make an end of thy posterity. + +VOLUMNIA: +Bastards and all. +Good man, the wounds that he does bear for Rome! + +MENENIUS: +Come, come, peace. + +SICINIUS: +I would he had continued to his country +As he began, and not unknit himself +The noble knot he made. + +BRUTUS: +I would he had. + +VOLUMNIA: +'I would he had'! 'Twas you incensed the rabble: +Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth +As I can of those mysteries which heaven +Will not have earth to know. + +BRUTUS: +Pray, let us go. + +VOLUMNIA: +Now, pray, sir, get you gone: +You have done a brave deed. Ere you go, hear this:-- +As far as doth the Capitol exceed +The meanest house in Rome, so far my son-- +This lady's husband here, this, do you see-- +Whom you have banish'd, does exceed you all. + +BRUTUS: +Well, well, we'll leave you. + +SICINIUS: +Why stay we to be baited +With one that wants her wits? + +VOLUMNIA: +Take my prayers with you. +I would the gods had nothing else to do +But to confirm my curses! Could I meet 'em +But once a-day, it would unclog my heart +Of what lies heavy to't. + +MENENIUS: +You have told them home; +And, by my troth, you have cause. You'll sup with me? + +VOLUMNIA: +Anger's my meat; I sup upon myself, +And so shall starve with feeding. Come, let's go: +Leave this faint puling and lament as I do, +In anger, Juno-like. Come, come, come. + +MENENIUS: +Fie, fie, fie! + +Roman: +I know you well, sir, and you know +me: your name, I think, is Adrian. + +Volsce: +It is so, sir: truly, I have forgot you. + +Roman: +I am a Roman; and my services are, +as you are, against 'em: know you me yet? + +Volsce: +Nicanor? no. + +Roman: +The same, sir. + +Volsce: +You had more beard when I last saw you; but your +favour is well approved by your tongue. What's the +news in Rome? I have a note from the Volscian state, +to find you out there: you have well saved me a +day's journey. + +Roman: +There hath been in Rome strange insurrections; the +people against the senators, patricians, and nobles. + +Volsce: +Hath been! is it ended, then? Our state thinks not +so: they are in a most warlike preparation, and +hope to come upon them in the heat of their division. + +Roman: +The main blaze of it is past, but a small thing +would make it flame again: for the nobles receive +so to heart the banishment of that worthy +Coriolanus, that they are in a ripe aptness to take +all power from the people and to pluck from them +their tribunes for ever. This lies glowing, I can +tell you, and is almost mature for the violent +breaking out. + +Volsce: +Coriolanus banished! + +Roman: +Banished, sir. + +Volsce: +You will be welcome with this intelligence, Nicanor. + +Roman: +The day serves well for them now. I have heard it +said, the fittest time to corrupt a man's wife is +when she's fallen out with her husband. Your noble +Tullus Aufidius will appear well in these wars, his +great opposer, Coriolanus, being now in no request +of his country. + +Volsce: +He cannot choose. I am most fortunate, thus +accidentally to encounter you: you have ended my +business, and I will merrily accompany you home. + +Roman: +I shall, between this and supper, tell you most +strange things from Rome; all tending to the good of +their adversaries. Have you an army ready, say you? + +Volsce: +A most royal one; the centurions and their charges, +distinctly billeted, already in the entertainment, +and to be on foot at an hour's warning. + +Roman: +I am joyful to hear of their readiness, and am the +man, I think, that shall set them in present action. +So, sir, heartily well met, and most glad of your company. + +Volsce: +You take my part from me, sir; I have the most cause +to be glad of yours. + +Roman: +Well, let us go together. + +CORIOLANUS: +A goodly city is this Antium. City, +'Tis I that made thy widows: many an heir +Of these fair edifices 'fore my wars +Have I heard groan and drop: then know me not, +Lest that thy wives with spits and boys with stones +In puny battle slay me. +Save you, sir. + +Citizen: +And you. + +CORIOLANUS: +Direct me, if it be your will, +Where great Aufidius lies: is he in Antium? + +Citizen: +He is, and feasts the nobles of the state +At his house this night. + +CORIOLANUS: +Which is his house, beseech you? + +Citizen: +This, here before you. + +CORIOLANUS: +Thank you, sir: farewell. +O world, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast sworn, +Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart, +Whose house, whose bed, whose meal, and exercise, +Are still together, who twin, as 'twere, in love +Unseparable, shall within this hour, +On a dissension of a doit, break out +To bitterest enmity: so, fellest foes, +Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep, +To take the one the other, by some chance, +Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends +And interjoin their issues. So with me: +My birth-place hate I, and my love's upon +This enemy town. I'll enter: if he slay me, +He does fair justice; if he give me way, +I'll do his country service. + +First Servingman: +Wine, wine, wine! What service +is here! I think our fellows are asleep. + +Second Servingman: +Where's Cotus? my master calls +for him. Cotus! + +CORIOLANUS: +A goodly house: the feast smells well; but I +Appear not like a guest. + +First Servingman: +What would you have, friend? whence are you? +Here's no place for you: pray, go to the door. + +CORIOLANUS: +I have deserved no better entertainment, +In being Coriolanus. + +Second Servingman: +Whence are you, sir? Has the porter his eyes in his +head; that he gives entrance to such companions? +Pray, get you out. + +CORIOLANUS: +Away! + +Second Servingman: +Away! get you away. + +CORIOLANUS: +Now thou'rt troublesome. + +Second Servingman: +Are you so brave? I'll have you talked with anon. + +Third Servingman: +What fellow's this? + +First Servingman: +A strange one as ever I looked on: I cannot get him +out of the house: prithee, call my master to him. + +Third Servingman: +What have you to do here, fellow? Pray you, avoid +the house. + +CORIOLANUS: +Let me but stand; I will not hurt your hearth. + +Third Servingman: +What are you? + +CORIOLANUS: +A gentleman. + +Third Servingman: +A marvellous poor one. + +CORIOLANUS: +True, so I am. + +Third Servingman: +Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some other +station; here's no place for you; pray you, avoid: come. + +CORIOLANUS: +Follow your function, go, and batten on cold bits. + +Third Servingman: +What, you will not? Prithee, tell my master what a +strange guest he has here. + +Second Servingman: +And I shall. + +Third Servingman: +Where dwellest thou? + +CORIOLANUS: +Under the canopy. + +Third Servingman: +Under the canopy! + +CORIOLANUS: +Ay. + +Third Servingman: +Where's that? + +CORIOLANUS: +I' the city of kites and crows. + +Third Servingman: +I' the city of kites and crows! What an ass it is! +Then thou dwellest with daws too? + +CORIOLANUS: +No, I serve not thy master. + +Third Servingman: +How, sir! do you meddle with my master? + +CORIOLANUS: +Ay; 'tis an honester service than to meddle with thy +mistress. Thou pratest, and pratest; serve with thy +trencher, hence! + +AUFIDIUS: +Where is this fellow? + +Second Servingman: +Here, sir: I'ld have beaten him like a dog, but for +disturbing the lords within. + +AUFIDIUS: +Whence comest thou? what wouldst thou? thy name? +Why speak'st not? speak, man: what's thy name? + +CORIOLANUS: +If, Tullus, +Not yet thou knowest me, and, seeing me, dost not +Think me for the man I am, necessity +Commands me name myself. + +AUFIDIUS: +What is thy name? + +CORIOLANUS: +A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears, +And harsh in sound to thine. + +AUFIDIUS: +Say, what's thy name? +Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face +Bears a command in't; though thy tackle's torn. +Thou show'st a noble vessel: what's thy name? + +CORIOLANUS: +Prepare thy brow to frown: know'st +thou me yet? + +AUFIDIUS: +I know thee not: thy name? + +CORIOLANUS: +My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done +To thee particularly and to all the Volsces +Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may +My surname, Coriolanus: the painful service, +The extreme dangers and the drops of blood +Shed for my thankless country are requited +But with that surname; a good memory, +And witness of the malice and displeasure +Which thou shouldst bear me: only that name remains; +The cruelty and envy of the people, +Permitted by our dastard nobles, who +Have all forsook me, hath devour'd the rest; +And suffer'd me by the voice of slaves to be +Whoop'd out of Rome. Now this extremity +Hath brought me to thy hearth; not out of hope-- +Mistake me not--to save my life, for if +I had fear'd death, of all the men i' the world +I would have 'voided thee, but in mere spite, +To be full quit of those my banishers, +Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast +A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge +Thine own particular wrongs and stop those maims +Of shame seen through thy country, speed +thee straight, +And make my misery serve thy turn: so use it +That my revengeful services may prove +As benefits to thee, for I will fight +Against my canker'd country with the spleen +Of all the under fiends. But if so be +Thou darest not this and that to prove more fortunes +Thou'rt tired, then, in a word, I also am +Longer to live most weary, and present +My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice; +Which not to cut would show thee but a fool, +Since I have ever follow'd thee with hate, +Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast, +And cannot live but to thy shame, unless +It be to do thee service. + +AUFIDIUS: +O Marcius, Marcius! +Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart +A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter +Should from yond cloud speak divine things, +And say 'Tis true,' I'ld not believe them more +Than thee, all noble Marcius. Let me twine +Mine arms about that body, where against +My grained ash an hundred times hath broke +And scarr'd the moon with splinters: here I clip +The anvil of my sword, and do contest +As hotly and as nobly with thy love +As ever in ambitious strength I did +Contend against thy valour. Know thou first, +I loved the maid I married; never man +Sigh'd truer breath; but that I see thee here, +Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart +Than when I first my wedded mistress saw +Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I tell thee, +We have a power on foot; and I had purpose +Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn, +Or lose mine arm fort: thou hast beat me out +Twelve several times, and I have nightly since +Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me; +We have been down together in my sleep, +Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat, +And waked half dead with nothing. Worthy Marcius, +Had we no quarrel else to Rome, but that +Thou art thence banish'd, we would muster all +From twelve to seventy, and pouring war +Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome, +Like a bold flood o'er-bear. O, come, go in, +And take our friendly senators by the hands; +Who now are here, taking their leaves of me, +Who am prepared against your territories, +Though not for Rome itself. + +CORIOLANUS: +You bless me, gods! + +AUFIDIUS: +Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou wilt have +The leading of thine own revenges, take +The one half of my commission; and set down-- +As best thou art experienced, since thou know'st +Thy country's strength and weakness,--thine own ways; +Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, +Or rudely visit them in parts remote, +To fright them, ere destroy. But come in: +Let me commend thee first to those that shall +Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes! +And more a friend than e'er an enemy; +Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand: most welcome! + +First Servingman: +Here's a strange alteration! + +Second Servingman: +By my hand, I had thought to have strucken him with +a cudgel; and yet my mind gave me his clothes made a +false report of him. + +First Servingman: +What an arm he has! he turned me about with his +finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top. + +Second Servingman: +Nay, I knew by his face that there was something in +him: he had, sir, a kind of face, methought,--I +cannot tell how to term it. + +First Servingman: +He had so; looking as it were--would I were hanged, +but I thought there was more in him than I could think. + +Second Servingman: +So did I, I'll be sworn: he is simply the rarest +man i' the world. + +First Servingman: +I think he is: but a greater soldier than he you wot on. + +Second Servingman: +Who, my master? + +First Servingman: +Nay, it's no matter for that. + +Second Servingman: +Worth six on him. + +First Servingman: +Nay, not so neither: but I take him to be the +greater soldier. + +Second Servingman: +Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that: +for the defence of a town, our general is excellent. + +First Servingman: +Ay, and for an assault too. + +Third Servingman: +O slaves, I can tell you news,-- news, you rascals! + +First Servingman: +What, what, what? let's partake. + +Third Servingman: +I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as +lieve be a condemned man. + +First Servingman: +Wherefore? wherefore? + +Third Servingman: +Why, here's he that was wont to thwack our general, +Caius Marcius. + +First Servingman: +Why do you say 'thwack our general '? + +Third Servingman: +I do not say 'thwack our general;' but he was always +good enough for him. + +Second Servingman: +Come, we are fellows and friends: he was ever too +hard for him; I have heard him say so himself. + +First Servingman: +He was too hard for him directly, to say the troth +on't: before Corioli he scotched him and notched +him like a carbon ado. + +Second Servingman: +An he had been cannibally given, he might have +broiled and eaten him too. + +First Servingman: +But, more of thy news? + +Third Servingman: +Why, he is so made on here within, as if he were son +and heir to Mars; set at upper end o' the table; no +question asked him by any of the senators, but they +stand bald before him: our general himself makes a +mistress of him: sanctifies himself with's hand and +turns up the white o' the eye to his discourse. But +the bottom of the news is that our general is cut i' +the middle and but one half of what he was +yesterday; for the other has half, by the entreaty +and grant of the whole table. He'll go, he says, +and sowl the porter of Rome gates by the ears: he +will mow all down before him, and leave his passage polled. + +Second Servingman: +And he's as like to do't as any man I can imagine. + +Third Servingman: +Do't! he will do't; for, look you, sir, he has as +many friends as enemies; which friends, sir, as it +were, durst not, look you, sir, show themselves, as +we term it, his friends whilst he's in directitude. + +First Servingman: +Directitude! what's that? + +Third Servingman: +But when they shall see, sir, his crest up again, +and the man in blood, they will out of their +burrows, like conies after rain, and revel all with +him. + +First Servingman: +But when goes this forward? + +Third Servingman: +To-morrow; to-day; presently; you shall have the +drum struck up this afternoon: 'tis, as it were, a +parcel of their feast, and to be executed ere they +wipe their lips. + +Second Servingman: +Why, then we shall have a stirring world again. +This peace is nothing, but to rust iron, increase +tailors, and breed ballad-makers. + +First Servingman: +Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace as far as +day does night; it's spritely, waking, audible, and +full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy; +mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible; a getter of more +bastard children than war's a destroyer of men. + +Second Servingman: +'Tis so: and as war, in some sort, may be said to +be a ravisher, so it cannot be denied but peace is a +great maker of cuckolds. + +First Servingman: +Ay, and it makes men hate one another. + +Third Servingman: +Reason; because they then less need one another. +The wars for my money. I hope to see Romans as cheap +as Volscians. They are rising, they are rising. + +All: +In, in, in, in! + +SICINIUS: +We hear not of him, neither need we fear him; +His remedies are tame i' the present peace +And quietness of the people, which before +Were in wild hurry. Here do we make his friends +Blush that the world goes well, who rather had, +Though they themselves did suffer by't, behold +Dissentious numbers pestering streets than see +Our tradesmen with in their shops and going +About their functions friendly. + +BRUTUS: +We stood to't in good time. +Is this Menenius? + +SICINIUS: +'Tis he,'tis he: O, he is grown most kind of late. + +Both Tribunes: +Hail sir! + +MENENIUS: +Hail to you both! + +SICINIUS: +Your Coriolanus +Is not much miss'd, but with his friends: +The commonwealth doth stand, and so would do, +Were he more angry at it. + +MENENIUS: +All's well; and might have been much better, if +He could have temporized. + +SICINIUS: +Where is he, hear you? + +MENENIUS: +Nay, I hear nothing: his mother and his wife +Hear nothing from him. + +Citizens: +The gods preserve you both! + +SICINIUS: +God-den, our neighbours. + +BRUTUS: +God-den to you all, god-den to you all. + +First Citizen: +Ourselves, our wives, and children, on our knees, +Are bound to pray for you both. + +SICINIUS: +Live, and thrive! + +BRUTUS: +Farewell, kind neighbours: we wish'd Coriolanus +Had loved you as we did. + +Citizens: +Now the gods keep you! + +Both Tribunes: +Farewell, farewell. + +SICINIUS: +This is a happier and more comely time +Than when these fellows ran about the streets, +Crying confusion. + +BRUTUS: +Caius Marcius was +A worthy officer i' the war; but insolent, +O'ercome with pride, ambitious past all thinking, +Self-loving,-- + +SICINIUS: +And affecting one sole throne, +Without assistance. + +MENENIUS: +I think not so. + +SICINIUS: +We should by this, to all our lamentation, +If he had gone forth consul, found it so. + +BRUTUS: +The gods have well prevented it, and Rome +Sits safe and still without him. + +AEdile: +Worthy tribunes, +There is a slave, whom we have put in prison, +Reports, the Volsces with two several powers +Are enter'd in the Roman territories, +And with the deepest malice of the war +Destroy what lies before 'em. + +MENENIUS: +'Tis Aufidius, +Who, hearing of our Marcius' banishment, +Thrusts forth his horns again into the world; +Which were inshell'd when Marcius stood for Rome, +And durst not once peep out. + +SICINIUS: +Come, what talk you +Of Marcius? + +BRUTUS: +Go see this rumourer whipp'd. It cannot be +The Volsces dare break with us. + +MENENIUS: +Cannot be! +We have record that very well it can, +And three examples of the like have been +Within my age. But reason with the fellow, +Before you punish him, where he heard this, +Lest you shall chance to whip your information +And beat the messenger who bids beware +Of what is to be dreaded. + +SICINIUS: +Tell not me: +I know this cannot be. + +BRUTUS: +Not possible. + +Messenger: +The nobles in great earnestness are going +All to the senate-house: some news is come +That turns their countenances. + +SICINIUS: +'Tis this slave;-- +Go whip him, 'fore the people's eyes:--his raising; +Nothing but his report. + +Messenger: +Yes, worthy sir, +The slave's report is seconded; and more, +More fearful, is deliver'd. + +SICINIUS: +What more fearful? + +Messenger: +It is spoke freely out of many mouths-- +How probable I do not know--that Marcius, +Join'd with Aufidius, leads a power 'gainst Rome, +And vows revenge as spacious as between +The young'st and oldest thing. + +SICINIUS: +This is most likely! + +BRUTUS: +Raised only, that the weaker sort may wish +Good Marcius home again. + +SICINIUS: +The very trick on't. + +MENENIUS: +This is unlikely: +He and Aufidius can no more atone +Than violentest contrariety. + +Second Messenger: +You are sent for to the senate: +A fearful army, led by Caius Marcius +Associated with Aufidius, rages +Upon our territories; and have already +O'erborne their way, consumed with fire, and took +What lay before them. + +COMINIUS: +O, you have made good work! + +MENENIUS: +What news? what news? + +COMINIUS: +You have holp to ravish your own daughters and +To melt the city leads upon your pates, +To see your wives dishonour'd to your noses,-- + +MENENIUS: +What's the news? what's the news? + +COMINIUS: +Your temples burned in their cement, and +Your franchises, whereon you stood, confined +Into an auger's bore. + +MENENIUS: +Pray now, your news? +You have made fair work, I fear me.--Pray, your news?-- +If Marcius should be join'd with Volscians,-- + +COMINIUS: +If! +He is their god: he leads them like a thing +Made by some other deity than nature, +That shapes man better; and they follow him, +Against us brats, with no less confidence +Than boys pursuing summer butterflies, +Or butchers killing flies. + +MENENIUS: +You have made good work, +You and your apron-men; you that stood so up much +on the voice of occupation and +The breath of garlic-eaters! + +COMINIUS: +He will shake +Your Rome about your ears. + +MENENIUS: +As Hercules +Did shake down mellow fruit. +You have made fair work! + +BRUTUS: +But is this true, sir? + +COMINIUS: +Ay; and you'll look pale +Before you find it other. All the regions +Do smilingly revolt; and who resist +Are mock'd for valiant ignorance, +And perish constant fools. Who is't can blame him? +Your enemies and his find something in him. + +MENENIUS: +We are all undone, unless +The noble man have mercy. + +COMINIUS: +Who shall ask it? +The tribunes cannot do't for shame; the people +Deserve such pity of him as the wolf +Does of the shepherds: for his best friends, if they +Should say 'Be good to Rome,' they charged him even +As those should do that had deserved his hate, +And therein show'd like enemies. + +MENENIUS: +'Tis true: +If he were putting to my house the brand +That should consume it, I have not the face +To say 'Beseech you, cease.' You have made fair hands, +You and your crafts! you have crafted fair! + +COMINIUS: +You have brought +A trembling upon Rome, such as was never +So incapable of help. + +Both Tribunes: +Say not we brought it. + +MENENIUS: +How! Was it we? we loved him but, like beasts +And cowardly nobles, gave way unto your clusters, +Who did hoot him out o' the city. + +COMINIUS: +But I fear +They'll roar him in again. Tullus Aufidius, +The second name of men, obeys his points +As if he were his officer: desperation +Is all the policy, strength and defence, +That Rome can make against them. + +MENENIUS: +Here come the clusters. +And is Aufidius with him? You are they +That made the air unwholesome, when you cast +Your stinking greasy caps in hooting at +Coriolanus' exile. Now he's coming; +And not a hair upon a soldier's head +Which will not prove a whip: as many coxcombs +As you threw caps up will he tumble down, +And pay you for your voices. 'Tis no matter; +if he could burn us all into one coal, +We have deserved it. + +Citizens: +Faith, we hear fearful news. + +First Citizen: +For mine own part, +When I said, banish him, I said 'twas pity. + +Second Citizen: +And so did I. + +Third Citizen: +And so did I; and, to say the truth, so did very +many of us: that we did, we did for the best; and +though we willingly consented to his banishment, yet +it was against our will. + +COMINIUS: +Ye re goodly things, you voices! + +MENENIUS: +You have made +Good work, you and your cry! Shall's to the Capitol? + +COMINIUS: +O, ay, what else? + +SICINIUS: +Go, masters, get you home; be not dismay'd: +These are a side that would be glad to have +This true which they so seem to fear. Go home, +And show no sign of fear. + +First Citizen: +The gods be good to us! Come, masters, let's home. +I ever said we were i' the wrong when we banished +him. + +Second Citizen: +So did we all. But, come, let's home. + +BRUTUS: +I do not like this news. + +SICINIUS: +Nor I. + +BRUTUS: +Let's to the Capitol. Would half my wealth +Would buy this for a lie! + +SICINIUS: +Pray, let us go. + +AUFIDIUS: +Do they still fly to the Roman? + +Lieutenant: +I do not know what witchcraft's in him, but +Your soldiers use him as the grace 'fore meat, +Their talk at table, and their thanks at end; +And you are darken'd in this action, sir, +Even by your own. + +AUFIDIUS: +I cannot help it now, +Unless, by using means, I lame the foot +Of our design. He bears himself more proudlier, +Even to my person, than I thought he would +When first I did embrace him: yet his nature +In that's no changeling; and I must excuse +What cannot be amended. + +Lieutenant: +Yet I wish, sir,-- +I mean for your particular,--you had not +Join'd in commission with him; but either +Had borne the action of yourself, or else +To him had left it solely. + +AUFIDIUS: +I understand thee well; and be thou sure, +when he shall come to his account, he knows not +What I can urge against him. Although it seems, +And so he thinks, and is no less apparent +To the vulgar eye, that he bears all things fairly. +And shows good husbandry for the Volscian state, +Fights dragon-like, and does achieve as soon +As draw his sword; yet he hath left undone +That which shall break his neck or hazard mine, +Whene'er we come to our account. + +Lieutenant: +Sir, I beseech you, think you he'll carry Rome? + +AUFIDIUS: +All places yield to him ere he sits down; +And the nobility of Rome are his: +The senators and patricians love him too: +The tribunes are no soldiers; and their people +Will be as rash in the repeal, as hasty +To expel him thence. I think he'll be to Rome +As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it +By sovereignty of nature. First he was +A noble servant to them; but he could not +Carry his honours even: whether 'twas pride, +Which out of daily fortune ever taints +The happy man; whether defect of judgment, +To fail in the disposing of those chances +Which he was lord of; or whether nature, +Not to be other than one thing, not moving +From the casque to the cushion, but commanding peace +Even with the same austerity and garb +As he controll'd the war; but one of these-- +As he hath spices of them all, not all, +For I dare so far free him--made him fear'd, +So hated, and so banish'd: but he has a merit, +To choke it in the utterance. So our virtues +Lie in the interpretation of the time: +And power, unto itself most commendable, +Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair +To extol what it hath done. +One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail; +Rights by rights falter, strengths by strengths do fail. +Come, let's away. When, Caius, Rome is thine, +Thou art poor'st of all; then shortly art thou mine. + +MENENIUS: +No, I'll not go: you hear what he hath said +Which was sometime his general; who loved him +In a most dear particular. He call'd me father: +But what o' that? Go, you that banish'd him; +A mile before his tent fall down, and knee +The way into his mercy: nay, if he coy'd +To hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home. + +COMINIUS: +He would not seem to know me. + +MENENIUS: +Do you hear? + +COMINIUS: +Yet one time he did call me by my name: +I urged our old acquaintance, and the drops +That we have bled together. Coriolanus +He would not answer to: forbad all names; +He was a kind of nothing, titleless, +Till he had forged himself a name o' the fire +Of burning Rome. + +MENENIUS: +Why, so: you have made good work! +A pair of tribunes that have rack'd for Rome, +To make coals cheap,--a noble memory! + +COMINIUS: +I minded him how royal 'twas to pardon +When it was less expected: he replied, +It was a bare petition of a state +To one whom they had punish'd. + +MENENIUS: +Very well: +Could he say less? + +COMINIUS: +I offer'd to awaken his regard +For's private friends: his answer to me was, +He could not stay to pick them in a pile +Of noisome musty chaff: he said 'twas folly, +For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt, +And still to nose the offence. + +MENENIUS: +For one poor grain or two! +I am one of those; his mother, wife, his child, +And this brave fellow too, we are the grains: +You are the musty chaff; and you are smelt +Above the moon: we must be burnt for you. + +SICINIUS: +Nay, pray, be patient: if you refuse your aid +In this so never-needed help, yet do not +Upbraid's with our distress. But, sure, if you +Would be your country's pleader, your good tongue, +More than the instant army we can make, +Might stop our countryman. + +MENENIUS: +No, I'll not meddle. + +SICINIUS: +Pray you, go to him. + +MENENIUS: +What should I do? + +BRUTUS: +Only make trial what your love can do +For Rome, towards Marcius. + +MENENIUS: +Well, and say that Marcius +Return me, as Cominius is return'd, +Unheard; what then? +But as a discontented friend, grief-shot +With his unkindness? say't be so? + +SICINIUS: +Yet your good will +must have that thanks from Rome, after the measure +As you intended well. + +MENENIUS: +I'll undertake 't: +I think he'll hear me. Yet, to bite his lip +And hum at good Cominius, much unhearts me. +He was not taken well; he had not dined: +The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then +We pout upon the morning, are unapt +To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff'd +These and these conveyances of our blood +With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls +Than in our priest-like fasts: therefore I'll watch him +Till he be dieted to my request, +And then I'll set upon him. + +BRUTUS: +You know the very road into his kindness, +And cannot lose your way. + +MENENIUS: +Good faith, I'll prove him, +Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledge +Of my success. + +COMINIUS: +He'll never hear him. + +SICINIUS: +Not? + +COMINIUS: +I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eye +Red as 'twould burn Rome; and his injury +The gaoler to his pity. I kneel'd before him; +'Twas very faintly he said 'Rise;' dismiss'd me +Thus, with his speechless hand: what he would do, +He sent in writing after me; what he would not, +Bound with an oath to yield to his conditions: +So that all hope is vain. +Unless his noble mother, and his wife; +Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him +For mercy to his country. Therefore, let's hence, +And with our fair entreaties haste them on. + +First Senator: +Stay: whence are you? + +Second Senator: +Stand, and go back. + +MENENIUS: +You guard like men; 'tis well: but, by your leave, +I am an officer of state, and come +To speak with Coriolanus. + +First Senator: +From whence? + +MENENIUS: +From Rome. + +First Senator: +You may not pass, you must return: our general +Will no more hear from thence. + +Second Senator: +You'll see your Rome embraced with fire before +You'll speak with Coriolanus. + +MENENIUS: +Good my friends, +If you have heard your general talk of Rome, +And of his friends there, it is lots to blanks, +My name hath touch'd your ears it is Menenius. + +First Senator: +Be it so; go back: the virtue of your name +Is not here passable. + +MENENIUS: +I tell thee, fellow, +The general is my lover: I have been +The book of his good acts, whence men have read +His name unparallel'd, haply amplified; +For I have ever verified my friends, +Of whom he's chief, with all the size that verity +Would without lapsing suffer: nay, sometimes, +Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground, +I have tumbled past the throw; and in his praise +Have almost stamp'd the leasing: therefore, fellow, +I must have leave to pass. + +First Senator: +Faith, sir, if you had told as many lies in his +behalf as you have uttered words in your own, you +should not pass here; no, though it were as virtuous +to lie as to live chastely. Therefore, go back. + +MENENIUS: +Prithee, fellow, remember my name is Menenius, +always factionary on the party of your general. + +Second Senator: +Howsoever you have been his liar, as you say you +have, I am one that, telling true under him, must +say, you cannot pass. Therefore, go back. + +MENENIUS: +Has he dined, canst thou tell? for I would not +speak with him till after dinner. + +First Senator: +You are a Roman, are you? + +MENENIUS: +I am, as thy general is. + +First Senator: +Then you should hate Rome, as he does. Can you, +when you have pushed out your gates the very +defender of them, and, in a violent popular +ignorance, given your enemy your shield, think to +front his revenges with the easy groans of old +women, the virginal palms of your daughters, or with +the palsied intercession of such a decayed dotant as +you seem to be? Can you think to blow out the +intended fire your city is ready to flame in, with +such weak breath as this? No, you are deceived; +therefore, back to Rome, and prepare for your +execution: you are condemned, our general has sworn +you out of reprieve and pardon. + +MENENIUS: +Sirrah, if thy captain knew I were here, he would +use me with estimation. + +Second Senator: +Come, my captain knows you not. + +MENENIUS: +I mean, thy general. + +First Senator: +My general cares not for you. Back, I say, go; lest +I let forth your half-pint of blood; back,--that's +the utmost of your having: back. + +MENENIUS: +Nay, but, fellow, fellow,-- + +CORIOLANUS: +What's the matter? + +MENENIUS: +Now, you companion, I'll say an errand for you: +You shall know now that I am in estimation; you shall +perceive that a Jack guardant cannot office me from +my son Coriolanus: guess, but by my entertainment +with him, if thou standest not i' the state of +hanging, or of some death more long in +spectatorship, and crueller in suffering; behold now +presently, and swoon for what's to come upon thee. +The glorious gods sit in hourly synod about thy +particular prosperity, and love thee no worse than +thy old father Menenius does! O my son, my son! +thou art preparing fire for us; look thee, here's +water to quench it. I was hardly moved to come to +thee; but being assured none but myself could move +thee, I have been blown out of your gates with +sighs; and conjure thee to pardon Rome, and thy +petitionary countrymen. The good gods assuage thy +wrath, and turn the dregs of it upon this varlet +here,--this, who, like a block, hath denied my +access to thee. + +CORIOLANUS: +Away! + +MENENIUS: +How! away! + +CORIOLANUS: +Wife, mother, child, I know not. My affairs +Are servanted to others: though I owe +My revenge properly, my remission lies +In Volscian breasts. That we have been familiar, +Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison, rather +Than pity note how much. Therefore, be gone. +Mine ears against your suits are stronger than +Your gates against my force. Yet, for I loved thee, +Take this along; I writ it for thy sake +And would have rent it. Another word, Menenius, +I will not hear thee speak. This man, Aufidius, +Was my beloved in Rome: yet thou behold'st! + +AUFIDIUS: +You keep a constant temper. + +First Senator: +Now, sir, is your name Menenius? + +Second Senator: +'Tis a spell, you see, of much power: you know the +way home again. + +First Senator: +Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your +greatness back? + +Second Senator: +What cause, do you think, I have to swoon? + +MENENIUS: +I neither care for the world nor your general: for +such things as you, I can scarce think there's any, +ye're so slight. He that hath a will to die by +himself fears it not from another: let your general +do his worst. For you, be that you are, long; and +your misery increase with your age! I say to you, +as I was said to, Away! + +First Senator: +A noble fellow, I warrant him. + +Second Senator: +The worthy fellow is our general: he's the rock, the +oak not to be wind-shaken. + +CORIOLANUS: +We will before the walls of Rome tomorrow +Set down our host. My partner in this action, +You must report to the Volscian lords, how plainly +I have borne this business. + +AUFIDIUS: +Only their ends +You have respected; stopp'd your ears against +The general suit of Rome; never admitted +A private whisper, no, not with such friends +That thought them sure of you. + +CORIOLANUS: +This last old man, +Whom with a crack'd heart I have sent to Rome, +Loved me above the measure of a father; +Nay, godded me, indeed. Their latest refuge +Was to send him; for whose old love I have, +Though I show'd sourly to him, once more offer'd +The first conditions, which they did refuse +And cannot now accept; to grace him only +That thought he could do more, a very little +I have yielded to: fresh embassies and suits, +Nor from the state nor private friends, hereafter +Will I lend ear to. Ha! what shout is this? +Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow +In the same time 'tis made? I will not. +My wife comes foremost; then the honour'd mould +Wherein this trunk was framed, and in her hand +The grandchild to her blood. But, out, affection! +All bond and privilege of nature, break! +Let it be virtuous to be obstinate. +What is that curt'sy worth? or those doves' eyes, +Which can make gods forsworn? I melt, and am not +Of stronger earth than others. My mother bows; +As if Olympus to a molehill should +In supplication nod: and my young boy +Hath an aspect of intercession, which +Great nature cries 'Deny not.' let the Volsces +Plough Rome and harrow Italy: I'll never +Be such a gosling to obey instinct, but stand, +As if a man were author of himself +And knew no other kin. + +VIRGILIA: +My lord and husband! + +CORIOLANUS: +These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome. + +VIRGILIA: +The sorrow that delivers us thus changed +Makes you think so. + +CORIOLANUS: +Like a dull actor now, +I have forgot my part, and I am out, +Even to a full disgrace. Best of my flesh, +Forgive my tyranny; but do not say +For that 'Forgive our Romans.' O, a kiss +Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge! +Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss +I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip +Hath virgin'd it e'er since. You gods! I prate, +And the most noble mother of the world +Leave unsaluted: sink, my knee, i' the earth; +Of thy deep duty more impression show +Than that of common sons. + +VOLUMNIA: +O, stand up blest! +Whilst, with no softer cushion than the flint, +I kneel before thee; and unproperly +Show duty, as mistaken all this while +Between the child and parent. + +CORIOLANUS: +What is this? +Your knees to me? to your corrected son? +Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach +Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds +Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun; +Murdering impossibility, to make +What cannot be, slight work. + +VOLUMNIA: +Thou art my warrior; +I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady? + +CORIOLANUS: +The noble sister of Publicola, +The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle +That's curdied by the frost from purest snow +And hangs on Dian's temple: dear Valeria! + +VOLUMNIA: +This is a poor epitome of yours, +Which by the interpretation of full time +May show like all yourself. + +CORIOLANUS: +The god of soldiers, +With the consent of supreme Jove, inform +Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou mayst prove +To shame unvulnerable, and stick i' the wars +Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw, +And saving those that eye thee! + +VOLUMNIA: +Your knee, sirrah. + +CORIOLANUS: +That's my brave boy! + +VOLUMNIA: +Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself, +Are suitors to you. + +CORIOLANUS: +I beseech you, peace: +Or, if you'ld ask, remember this before: +The thing I have forsworn to grant may never +Be held by you denials. Do not bid me +Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate +Again with Rome's mechanics: tell me not +Wherein I seem unnatural: desire not +To ally my rages and revenges with +Your colder reasons. + +VOLUMNIA: +O, no more, no more! +You have said you will not grant us any thing; +For we have nothing else to ask, but that +Which you deny already: yet we will ask; +That, if you fail in our request, the blame +May hang upon your hardness: therefore hear us. + +CORIOLANUS: +Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark; for we'll +Hear nought from Rome in private. Your request? + +VOLUMNIA: +Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment +And state of bodies would bewray what life +We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself +How more unfortunate than all living women +Are we come hither: since that thy sight, +which should +Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance +with comforts, +Constrains them weep and shake with fear and sorrow; +Making the mother, wife and child to see +The son, the husband and the father tearing +His country's bowels out. And to poor we +Thine enmity's most capital: thou barr'st us +Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort +That all but we enjoy; for how can we, +Alas, how can we for our country pray. +Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory, +Whereto we are bound? alack, or we must lose +The country, our dear nurse, or else thy person, +Our comfort in the country. We must find +An evident calamity, though we had +Our wish, which side should win: for either thou +Must, as a foreign recreant, be led +With manacles thorough our streets, or else +triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin, +And bear the palm for having bravely shed +Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son, +I purpose not to wait on fortune till +These wars determine: if I cannot persuade thee +Rather to show a noble grace to both parts +Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner +March to assault thy country than to tread-- +Trust to't, thou shalt not--on thy mother's womb, +That brought thee to this world. + +VIRGILIA: +Ay, and mine, +That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name +Living to time. + +Young MARCIUS: +A' shall not tread on me; +I'll run away till I am bigger, but then I'll fight. + +CORIOLANUS: +Not of a woman's tenderness to be, +Requires nor child nor woman's face to see. +I have sat too long. + +VOLUMNIA: +Nay, go not from us thus. +If it were so that our request did tend +To save the Romans, thereby to destroy +The Volsces whom you serve, you might condemn us, +As poisonous of your honour: no; our suit +Is that you reconcile them: while the Volsces +May say 'This mercy we have show'd;' the Romans, +'This we received;' and each in either side +Give the all-hail to thee and cry 'Be blest +For making up this peace!' Thou know'st, great son, +The end of war's uncertain, but this certain, +That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit +Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name, +Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses; +Whose chronicle thus writ: 'The man was noble, +But with his last attempt he wiped it out; +Destroy'd his country, and his name remains +To the ensuing age abhorr'd.' Speak to me, son: +Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour, +To imitate the graces of the gods; +To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' the air, +And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt +That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak? +Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man +Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speak you: +He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, boy: +Perhaps thy childishness will move him more +Than can our reasons. There's no man in the world +More bound to 's mother; yet here he lets me prate +Like one i' the stocks. Thou hast never in thy life +Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy, +When she, poor hen, fond of no second brood, +Has cluck'd thee to the wars and safely home, +Loaden with honour. Say my request's unjust, +And spurn me back: but if it be not so, +Thou art not honest; and the gods will plague thee, +That thou restrain'st from me the duty which +To a mother's part belongs. He turns away: +Down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees. +To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride +Than pity to our prayers. Down: an end; +This is the last: so we will home to Rome, +And die among our neighbours. Nay, behold 's: +This boy, that cannot tell what he would have +But kneels and holds up bands for fellowship, +Does reason our petition with more strength +Than thou hast to deny 't. Come, let us go: +This fellow had a Volscian to his mother; +His wife is in Corioli and his child +Like him by chance. Yet give us our dispatch: +I am hush'd until our city be a-fire, +And then I'll speak a little. + +CORIOLANUS: +O mother, mother! +What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope, +The gods look down, and this unnatural scene +They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O! +You have won a happy victory to Rome; +But, for your son,--believe it, O, believe it, +Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd, +If not most mortal to him. But, let it come. +Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars, +I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius, +Were you in my stead, would you have heard +A mother less? or granted less, Aufidius? + +AUFIDIUS: +I was moved withal. + +CORIOLANUS: +I dare be sworn you were: +And, sir, it is no little thing to make +Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir, +What peace you'll make, advise me: for my part, +I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you; and pray you, +Stand to me in this cause. O mother! wife! + +AUFIDIUS: + +CORIOLANUS: +Ay, by and by; +But we will drink together; and you shall bear +A better witness back than words, which we, +On like conditions, will have counter-seal'd. +Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve +To have a temple built you: all the swords +In Italy, and her confederate arms, +Could not have made this peace. + +MENENIUS: +See you yond coign o' the Capitol, yond +corner-stone? + +SICINIUS: +Why, what of that? + +MENENIUS: +If it be possible for you to displace it with your +little finger, there is some hope the ladies of +Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. +But I say there is no hope in't: our throats are +sentenced and stay upon execution. + +SICINIUS: +Is't possible that so short a time can alter the +condition of a man! + +MENENIUS: +There is differency between a grub and a butterfly; +yet your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown +from man to dragon: he has wings; he's more than a +creeping thing. + +SICINIUS: +He loved his mother dearly. + +MENENIUS: +So did he me: and he no more remembers his mother +now than an eight-year-old horse. The tartness +of his face sours ripe grapes: when he walks, he +moves like an engine, and the ground shrinks before +his treading: he is able to pierce a corslet with +his eye; talks like a knell, and his hum is a +battery. He sits in his state, as a thing made for +Alexander. What he bids be done is finished with +his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but eternity +and a heaven to throne in. + +SICINIUS: +Yes, mercy, if you report him truly. + +MENENIUS: +I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his +mother shall bring from him: there is no more mercy +in him than there is milk in a male tiger; that +shall our poor city find: and all this is long of +you. + +SICINIUS: +The gods be good unto us! + +MENENIUS: +No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto +us. When we banished him, we respected not them; +and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us. + +Messenger: +Sir, if you'ld save your life, fly to your house: +The plebeians have got your fellow-tribune +And hale him up and down, all swearing, if +The Roman ladies bring not comfort home, +They'll give him death by inches. + +SICINIUS: +What's the news? + +Second Messenger: +Good news, good news; the ladies have prevail'd, +The Volscians are dislodged, and Marcius gone: +A merrier day did never yet greet Rome, +No, not the expulsion of the Tarquins. + +SICINIUS: +Friend, +Art thou certain this is true? is it most certain? + +Second Messenger: +As certain as I know the sun is fire: +Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt of it? +Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide, +As the recomforted through the gates. Why, hark you! +The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries and fifes, +Tabours and cymbals and the shouting Romans, +Make the sun dance. Hark you! + +MENENIUS: +This is good news: +I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia +Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians, +A city full; of tribunes, such as you, +A sea and land full. You have pray'd well to-day: +This morning for ten thousand of your throats +I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy! + +SICINIUS: +First, the gods bless you for your tidings; next, +Accept my thankfulness. + +Second Messenger: +Sir, we have all +Great cause to give great thanks. + +SICINIUS: +They are near the city? + +Second Messenger: +Almost at point to enter. + +SICINIUS: +We will meet them, +And help the joy. + +First Senator: +Behold our patroness, the life of Rome! +Call all your tribes together, praise the gods, +And make triumphant fires; strew flowers before them: +Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius, +Repeal him with the welcome of his mother; +Cry 'Welcome, ladies, welcome!' + +All: +Welcome, ladies, Welcome! + +AUFIDIUS: +Go tell the lords o' the city I am here: +Deliver them this paper: having read it, +Bid them repair to the market place; where I, +Even in theirs and in the commons' ears, +Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse +The city ports by this hath enter'd and +Intends to appear before the people, hoping +To purge herself with words: dispatch. +Most welcome! + +First Conspirator: +How is it with our general? + +AUFIDIUS: +Even so +As with a man by his own alms empoison'd, +And with his charity slain. + +Second Conspirator: +Most noble sir, +If you do hold the same intent wherein +You wish'd us parties, we'll deliver you +Of your great danger. + +AUFIDIUS: +Sir, I cannot tell: +We must proceed as we do find the people. + +Third Conspirator: +The people will remain uncertain whilst +'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either +Makes the survivor heir of all. + +AUFIDIUS: +I know it; +And my pretext to strike at him admits +A good construction. I raised him, and I pawn'd +Mine honour for his truth: who being so heighten'd, +He water'd his new plants with dews of flattery, +Seducing so my friends; and, to this end, +He bow'd his nature, never known before +But to be rough, unswayable and free. + +Third Conspirator: +Sir, his stoutness +When he did stand for consul, which he lost +By lack of stooping,-- + +AUFIDIUS: +That I would have spoke of: +Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth; +Presented to my knife his throat: I took him; +Made him joint-servant with me; gave him way +In all his own desires; nay, let him choose +Out of my files, his projects to accomplish, +My best and freshest men; served his designments +In mine own person; holp to reap the fame +Which he did end all his; and took some pride +To do myself this wrong: till, at the last, +I seem'd his follower, not partner, and +He waged me with his countenance, as if +I had been mercenary. + +First Conspirator: +So he did, my lord: +The army marvell'd at it, and, in the last, +When he had carried Rome and that we look'd +For no less spoil than glory,-- + +AUFIDIUS: +There was it: +For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him. +At a few drops of women's rheum, which are +As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour +Of our great action: therefore shall he die, +And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark! + +First Conspirator: +Your native town you enter'd like a post, +And had no welcomes home: but he returns, +Splitting the air with noise. + +Second Conspirator: +And patient fools, +Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear +With giving him glory. + +Third Conspirator: +Therefore, at your vantage, +Ere he express himself, or move the people +With what he would say, let him feel your sword, +Which we will second. When he lies along, +After your way his tale pronounced shall bury +His reasons with his body. + +AUFIDIUS: +Say no more: +Here come the lords. + +All The Lords: +You are most welcome home. + +AUFIDIUS: +I have not deserved it. +But, worthy lords, have you with heed perused +What I have written to you? + +Lords: +We have. + +First Lord: +And grieve to hear't. +What faults he made before the last, I think +Might have found easy fines: but there to end +Where he was to begin and give away +The benefit of our levies, answering us +With our own charge, making a treaty where +There was a yielding,--this admits no excuse. + +AUFIDIUS: +He approaches: you shall hear him. + +CORIOLANUS: +Hail, lords! I am return'd your soldier, +No more infected with my country's love +Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting +Under your great command. You are to know +That prosperously I have attempted and +With bloody passage led your wars even to +The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought home +Do more than counterpoise a full third part +The charges of the action. We have made peace +With no less honour to the Antiates +Than shame to the Romans: and we here deliver, +Subscribed by the consuls and patricians, +Together with the seal o' the senate, what +We have compounded on. + +AUFIDIUS: +Read it not, noble lords; +But tell the traitor, in the high'st degree +He hath abused your powers. + +CORIOLANUS: +Traitor! how now! + +AUFIDIUS: +Ay, traitor, Marcius! + +CORIOLANUS: +Marcius! + +AUFIDIUS: +Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius: dost thou think +I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name +Coriolanus in Corioli? +You lords and heads o' the state, perfidiously +He has betray'd your business, and given up, +For certain drops of salt, your city Rome, +I say 'your city,' to his wife and mother; +Breaking his oath and resolution like +A twist of rotten silk, never admitting +Counsel o' the war, but at his nurse's tears +He whined and roar'd away your victory, +That pages blush'd at him and men of heart +Look'd wondering each at other. + +CORIOLANUS: +Hear'st thou, Mars? + +AUFIDIUS: +Name not the god, thou boy of tears! + +CORIOLANUS: +Ha! + +AUFIDIUS: +No more. + +CORIOLANUS: +Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart +Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave! +Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever +I was forced to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords, +Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion-- +Who wears my stripes impress'd upon him; that +Must bear my beating to his grave--shall join +To thrust the lie unto him. + +First Lord: +Peace, both, and hear me speak. + +CORIOLANUS: +Cut me to pieces, Volsces; men and lads, +Stain all your edges on me. Boy! false hound! +If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there, +That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I +Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli: +Alone I did it. Boy! + +AUFIDIUS: +Why, noble lords, +Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, +Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, +'Fore your own eyes and ears? + +All Conspirators: +Let him die for't. + +All The People: +'Tear him to pieces.' 'Do it presently.' 'He kill'd +my son.' 'My daughter.' 'He killed my cousin +Marcus.' 'He killed my father.' + +Second Lord: +Peace, ho! no outrage: peace! +The man is noble and his fame folds-in +This orb o' the earth. His last offences to us +Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius, +And trouble not the peace. + +CORIOLANUS: +O that I had him, +With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe, +To use my lawful sword! + +AUFIDIUS: +Insolent villain! + +All Conspirators: +Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him! + +Lords: +Hold, hold, hold, hold! + +AUFIDIUS: +My noble masters, hear me speak. + +First Lord: +O Tullus,-- + +Second Lord: +Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep. + +Third Lord: +Tread not upon him. Masters all, be quiet; +Put up your swords. + +AUFIDIUS: +My lords, when you shall know--as in this rage, +Provoked by him, you cannot--the great danger +Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice +That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours +To call me to your senate, I'll deliver +Myself your loyal servant, or endure +Your heaviest censure. + +First Lord: +Bear from hence his body; +And mourn you for him: let him be regarded +As the most noble corse that ever herald +Did follow to his urn. + +Second Lord: +His own impatience +Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame. +Let's make the best of it. + +AUFIDIUS: +My rage is gone; +And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up. +Help, three o' the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one. +Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully: +Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he +Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one, +Which to this hour bewail the injury, +Yet he shall have a noble memory. Assist. + +GLOUCESTER: +Now is the winter of our discontent +Made glorious summer by this sun of York; +And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house +In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. +Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; +Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; +Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, +Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. +Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front; +And now, instead of mounting barded steeds +To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, +He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber +To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. +But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, +Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; +I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty +To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; +I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, +Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, +Deformed, unfinish'd, sent before my time +Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, +And that so lamely and unfashionable +That dogs bark at me as I halt by them; +Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, +Have no delight to pass away the time, +Unless to spy my shadow in the sun +And descant on mine own deformity: +And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover, +To entertain these fair well-spoken days, +I am determined to prove a villain +And hate the idle pleasures of these days. +Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous, +By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams, +To set my brother Clarence and the king +In deadly hate the one against the other: +And if King Edward be as true and just +As I am subtle, false and treacherous, +This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up, +About a prophecy, which says that 'G' +Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be. +Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here +Clarence comes. +Brother, good day; what means this armed guard +That waits upon your grace? + +CLARENCE: +His majesty +Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed +This conduct to convey me to the Tower. + +GLOUCESTER: +Upon what cause? + +CLARENCE: +Because my name is George. + +GLOUCESTER: +Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours; +He should, for that, commit your godfathers: +O, belike his majesty hath some intent +That you shall be new-christen'd in the Tower. +But what's the matter, Clarence? may I know? + +CLARENCE: +Yea, Richard, when I know; for I protest +As yet I do not: but, as I can learn, +He hearkens after prophecies and dreams; +And from the cross-row plucks the letter G. +And says a wizard told him that by G +His issue disinherited should be; +And, for my name of George begins with G, +It follows in his thought that I am he. +These, as I learn, and such like toys as these +Have moved his highness to commit me now. + +GLOUCESTER: +Why, this it is, when men are ruled by women: +'Tis not the king that sends you to the Tower: +My Lady Grey his wife, Clarence, 'tis she +That tempers him to this extremity. +Was it not she and that good man of worship, +Anthony Woodville, her brother there, +That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower, +From whence this present day he is deliver'd? +We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe. + +CLARENCE: +By heaven, I think there's no man is secure +But the queen's kindred and night-walking heralds +That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Shore. +Heard ye not what an humble suppliant +Lord hastings was to her for his delivery? + +GLOUCESTER: +Humbly complaining to her deity +Got my lord chamberlain his liberty. +I'll tell you what; I think it is our way, +If we will keep in favour with the king, +To be her men and wear her livery: +The jealous o'erworn widow and herself, +Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen. +Are mighty gossips in this monarchy. + +BRAKENBURY: +I beseech your graces both to pardon me; +His majesty hath straitly given in charge +That no man shall have private conference, +Of what degree soever, with his brother. + +GLOUCESTER: +Even so; an't please your worship, Brakenbury, +You may partake of any thing we say: +We speak no treason, man: we say the king +Is wise and virtuous, and his noble queen +Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous; +We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, +A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue; +And that the queen's kindred are made gentle-folks: +How say you sir? Can you deny all this? + +BRAKENBURY: +With this, my lord, myself have nought to do. + +GLOUCESTER: +Naught to do with mistress Shore! I tell thee, fellow, +He that doth naught with her, excepting one, +Were best he do it secretly, alone. + +BRAKENBURY: +What one, my lord? + +GLOUCESTER: +Her husband, knave: wouldst thou betray me? + +BRAKENBURY: +I beseech your grace to pardon me, and withal +Forbear your conference with the noble duke. + +CLARENCE: +We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey. + +GLOUCESTER: +We are the queen's abjects, and must obey. +Brother, farewell: I will unto the king; +And whatsoever you will employ me in, +Were it to call King Edward's widow sister, +I will perform it to enfranchise you. +Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood +Touches me deeper than you can imagine. + +CLARENCE: +I know it pleaseth neither of us well. + +GLOUCESTER: +Well, your imprisonment shall not be long; +Meantime, have patience. + +CLARENCE: +I must perforce. Farewell. + +GLOUCESTER: +Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return. +Simple, plain Clarence! I do love thee so, +That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven, +If heaven will take the present at our hands. +But who comes here? the new-deliver'd Hastings? + +HASTINGS: +Good time of day unto my gracious lord! + +GLOUCESTER: +As much unto my good lord chamberlain! +Well are you welcome to the open air. +How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment? + +HASTINGS: +With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must: +But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks +That were the cause of my imprisonment. + +GLOUCESTER: +No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence too; +For they that were your enemies are his, +And have prevail'd as much on him as you. + +HASTINGS: +More pity that the eagle should be mew'd, +While kites and buzzards prey at liberty. + +GLOUCESTER: +What news abroad? + +HASTINGS: +No news so bad abroad as this at home; +The King is sickly, weak and melancholy, +And his physicians fear him mightily. + +GLOUCESTER: +Now, by Saint Paul, this news is bad indeed. +O, he hath kept an evil diet long, +And overmuch consumed his royal person: +'Tis very grievous to be thought upon. +What, is he in his bed? + +HASTINGS: +He is. + +GLOUCESTER: +Go you before, and I will follow you. +He cannot live, I hope; and must not die +Till George be pack'd with post-horse up to heaven. +I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence, +With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments; +And, if I fall not in my deep intent, +Clarence hath not another day to live: +Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy, +And leave the world for me to bustle in! +For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter. +What though I kill'd her husband and her father? +The readiest way to make the wench amends +Is to become her husband and her father: +The which will I; not all so much for love +As for another secret close intent, +By marrying her which I must reach unto. +But yet I run before my horse to market: +Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives and reigns: +When they are gone, then must I count my gains. + +LADY ANNE: +Set down, set down your honourable load, +If honour may be shrouded in a hearse, +Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament +The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster. +Poor key-cold figure of a holy king! +Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster! +Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood! +Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost, +To hear the lamentations of Poor Anne, +Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son, +Stabb'd by the selfsame hand that made these wounds! +Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life, +I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes. +Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes! +Cursed be the heart that had the heart to do it! +Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence! +More direful hap betide that hated wretch, +That makes us wretched by the death of thee, +Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads, +Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives! +If ever he have child, abortive be it, +Prodigious, and untimely brought to light, +Whose ugly and unnatural aspect +May fright the hopeful mother at the view; +And that be heir to his unhappiness! +If ever he have wife, let her he made +A miserable by the death of him +As I am made by my poor lord and thee! +Come, now towards Chertsey with your holy load, +Taken from Paul's to be interred there; +And still, as you are weary of the weight, +Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse. + +GLOUCESTER: +Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down. + +LADY ANNE: +What black magician conjures up this fiend, +To stop devoted charitable deeds? + +GLOUCESTER: +Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul, +I'll make a corse of him that disobeys. + +Gentleman: +My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass. + +GLOUCESTER: +Unmanner'd dog! stand thou, when I command: +Advance thy halbert higher than my breast, +Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot, +And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness. + +LADY ANNE: +What, do you tremble? are you all afraid? +Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal, +And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil. +Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell! +Thou hadst but power over his mortal body, +His soul thou canst not have; therefore be gone. + +GLOUCESTER: +Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst. + +LADY ANNE: +Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us not; +For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell, +Fill'd it with cursing cries and deep exclaims. +If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, +Behold this pattern of thy butcheries. +O, gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry's wounds +Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh! +Blush, Blush, thou lump of foul deformity; +For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood +From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells; +Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural, +Provokes this deluge most unnatural. +O God, which this blood madest, revenge his death! +O earth, which this blood drink'st revenge his death! +Either heaven with lightning strike the +murderer dead, +Or earth, gape open wide and eat him quick, +As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood +Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered! + +GLOUCESTER: +Lady, you know no rules of charity, +Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses. + +LADY ANNE: +Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor man: +No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. + +GLOUCESTER: +But I know none, and therefore am no beast. + +LADY ANNE: +O wonderful, when devils tell the truth! + +GLOUCESTER: +More wonderful, when angels are so angry. +Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman, +Of these supposed-evils, to give me leave, +By circumstance, but to acquit myself. + +LADY ANNE: +Vouchsafe, defused infection of a man, +For these known evils, but to give me leave, +By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self. + +GLOUCESTER: +Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have +Some patient leisure to excuse myself. + +LADY ANNE: +Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make +No excuse current, but to hang thyself. + +GLOUCESTER: +By such despair, I should accuse myself. + +LADY ANNE: +And, by despairing, shouldst thou stand excused; +For doing worthy vengeance on thyself, +Which didst unworthy slaughter upon others. + +GLOUCESTER: +Say that I slew them not? + +LADY ANNE: +Why, then they are not dead: +But dead they are, and devilish slave, by thee. + +GLOUCESTER: +I did not kill your husband. + +LADY ANNE: +Why, then he is alive. + +GLOUCESTER: +Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's hand. + +LADY ANNE: +In thy foul throat thou liest: Queen Margaret saw +Thy murderous falchion smoking in his blood; +The which thou once didst bend against her breast, +But that thy brothers beat aside the point. + +GLOUCESTER: +I was provoked by her slanderous tongue, +which laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders. + +LADY ANNE: +Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind. +Which never dreamt on aught but butcheries: +Didst thou not kill this king? + +GLOUCESTER: +I grant ye. + +LADY ANNE: +Dost grant me, hedgehog? then, God grant me too +Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed! +O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous! + +GLOUCESTER: +The fitter for the King of heaven, that hath him. + +LADY ANNE: +He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come. + +GLOUCESTER: +Let him thank me, that holp to send him thither; +For he was fitter for that place than earth. + +LADY ANNE: +And thou unfit for any place but hell. + +GLOUCESTER: +Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it. + +LADY ANNE: +Some dungeon. + +GLOUCESTER: +Your bed-chamber. + +LADY ANNE: +I'll rest betide the chamber where thou liest! + +GLOUCESTER: +So will it, madam till I lie with you. + +LADY ANNE: +I hope so. + +GLOUCESTER: +I know so. But, gentle Lady Anne, +To leave this keen encounter of our wits, +And fall somewhat into a slower method, +Is not the causer of the timeless deaths +Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward, +As blameful as the executioner? + +LADY ANNE: +Thou art the cause, and most accursed effect. + +GLOUCESTER: +Your beauty was the cause of that effect; +Your beauty: which did haunt me in my sleep +To undertake the death of all the world, +So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom. + +LADY ANNE: +If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, +These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks. + +GLOUCESTER: +These eyes could never endure sweet beauty's wreck; +You should not blemish it, if I stood by: +As all the world is cheered by the sun, +So I by that; it is my day, my life. + +LADY ANNE: +Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life! + +GLOUCESTER: +Curse not thyself, fair creature thou art both. + +LADY ANNE: +I would I were, to be revenged on thee. + +GLOUCESTER: +It is a quarrel most unnatural, +To be revenged on him that loveth you. + +LADY ANNE: +It is a quarrel just and reasonable, +To be revenged on him that slew my husband. + +GLOUCESTER: +He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband, +Did it to help thee to a better husband. + +LADY ANNE: +His better doth not breathe upon the earth. + +GLOUCESTER: +He lives that loves thee better than he could. + +LADY ANNE: +Name him. + +GLOUCESTER: +Plantagenet. + +LADY ANNE: +Why, that was he. + +GLOUCESTER: +The selfsame name, but one of better nature. + +LADY ANNE: +Where is he? + +GLOUCESTER: +Here. +Why dost thou spit at me? + +LADY ANNE: +Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake! + +GLOUCESTER: +Never came poison from so sweet a place. + +LADY ANNE: +Never hung poison on a fouler toad. +Out of my sight! thou dost infect my eyes. + +GLOUCESTER: +Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. + +LADY ANNE: +Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead! + +GLOUCESTER: +I would they were, that I might die at once; +For now they kill me with a living death. +Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears, +Shamed their aspect with store of childish drops: +These eyes that never shed remorseful tear, +No, when my father York and Edward wept, +To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made +When black-faced Clifford shook his sword at him; +Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, +Told the sad story of my father's death, +And twenty times made pause to sob and weep, +That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks +Like trees bedash'd with rain: in that sad time +My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear; +And what these sorrows could not thence exhale, +Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping. +I never sued to friend nor enemy; +My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word; +But now thy beauty is proposed my fee, +My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak. +Teach not thy lips such scorn, for they were made +For kissing, lady, not for such contempt. +If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, +Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword; +Which if thou please to hide in this true bosom. +And let the soul forth that adoreth thee, +I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, +And humbly beg the death upon my knee. +Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry, +But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me. +Nay, now dispatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward, +But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on. +Take up the sword again, or take up me. + +LADY ANNE: +Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death, +I will not be the executioner. + +GLOUCESTER: +Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it. + +LADY ANNE: +I have already. + +GLOUCESTER: +Tush, that was in thy rage: +Speak it again, and, even with the word, +That hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love, +Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love; +To both their deaths thou shalt be accessary. + +LADY ANNE: +I would I knew thy heart. + +GLOUCESTER: +'Tis figured in my tongue. + +LADY ANNE: +I fear me both are false. + +GLOUCESTER: +Then never man was true. + +LADY ANNE: +Well, well, put up your sword. + +GLOUCESTER: +Say, then, my peace is made. + +LADY ANNE: +That shall you know hereafter. + +GLOUCESTER: +But shall I live in hope? + +LADY ANNE: +All men, I hope, live so. + +GLOUCESTER: +Vouchsafe to wear this ring. + +LADY ANNE: +To take is not to give. + +GLOUCESTER: +Look, how this ring encompasseth finger. +Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart; +Wear both of them, for both of them are thine. +And if thy poor devoted suppliant may +But beg one favour at thy gracious hand, +Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever. + +LADY ANNE: +What is it? + +GLOUCESTER: +That it would please thee leave these sad designs +To him that hath more cause to be a mourner, +And presently repair to Crosby Place; +Where, after I have solemnly interr'd +At Chertsey monastery this noble king, +And wet his grave with my repentant tears, +I will with all expedient duty see you: +For divers unknown reasons. I beseech you, +Grant me this boon. + +LADY ANNE: +With all my heart; and much it joys me too, +To see you are become so penitent. +Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me. + +GLOUCESTER: +Bid me farewell. + +LADY ANNE: +'Tis more than you deserve; +But since you teach me how to flatter you, +Imagine I have said farewell already. + +GLOUCESTER: +Sirs, take up the corse. + +GENTLEMEN: +Towards Chertsey, noble lord? + +GLOUCESTER: +No, to White-Friars; there attend my coining. +Was ever woman in this humour woo'd? +Was ever woman in this humour won? +I'll have her; but I will not keep her long. +What! I, that kill'd her husband and his father, +To take her in her heart's extremest hate, +With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, +The bleeding witness of her hatred by; +Having God, her conscience, and these bars +against me, +And I nothing to back my suit at all, +But the plain devil and dissembling looks, +And yet to win her, all the world to nothing! +Ha! +Hath she forgot already that brave prince, +Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since, +Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury? +A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman, +Framed in the prodigality of nature, +Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal, +The spacious world cannot again afford +And will she yet debase her eyes on me, +That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince, +And made her widow to a woful bed? +On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety? +On me, that halt and am unshapen thus? +My dukedom to a beggarly denier, +I do mistake my person all this while: +Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot, +Myself to be a marvellous proper man. +I'll be at charges for a looking-glass, +And entertain some score or two of tailors, +To study fashions to adorn my body: +Since I am crept in favour with myself, +Will maintain it with some little cost. +But first I'll turn yon fellow in his grave; +And then return lamenting to my love. +Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass, +That I may see my shadow as I pass. + +RIVERS: +Have patience, madam: there's no doubt his majesty +Will soon recover his accustom'd health. + +GREY: +In that you brook it in, it makes him worse: +Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort, +And cheer his grace with quick and merry words. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +If he were dead, what would betide of me? + +RIVERS: +No other harm but loss of such a lord. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +The loss of such a lord includes all harm. + +GREY: +The heavens have bless'd you with a goodly son, +To be your comforter when he is gone. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Oh, he is young and his minority +Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloucester, +A man that loves not me, nor none of you. + +RIVERS: +Is it concluded that he shall be protector? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +It is determined, not concluded yet: +But so it must be, if the king miscarry. + +GREY: +Here come the lords of Buckingham and Derby. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Good time of day unto your royal grace! + +DERBY: +God make your majesty joyful as you have been! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +The Countess Richmond, good my Lord of Derby. +To your good prayers will scarcely say amen. +Yet, Derby, notwithstanding she's your wife, +And loves not me, be you, good lord, assured +I hate not you for her proud arrogance. + +DERBY: +I do beseech you, either not believe +The envious slanders of her false accusers; +Or, if she be accused in true report, +Bear with her weakness, which, I think proceeds +From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice. + +RIVERS: +Saw you the king to-day, my Lord of Derby? + +DERBY: +But now the Duke of Buckingham and I +Are come from visiting his majesty. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +What likelihood of his amendment, lords? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Madam, good hope; his grace speaks cheerfully. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +God grant him health! Did you confer with him? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Madam, we did: he desires to make atonement +Betwixt the Duke of Gloucester and your brothers, +And betwixt them and my lord chamberlain; +And sent to warn them to his royal presence. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Would all were well! but that will never be +I fear our happiness is at the highest. + +GLOUCESTER: +They do me wrong, and I will not endure it: +Who are they that complain unto the king, +That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not? +By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly +That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours. +Because I cannot flatter and speak fair, +Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive and cog, +Duck with French nods and apish courtesy, +I must be held a rancorous enemy. +Cannot a plain man live and think no harm, +But thus his simple truth must be abused +By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks? + +RIVERS: +To whom in all this presence speaks your grace? + +GLOUCESTER: +To thee, that hast nor honesty nor grace. +When have I injured thee? when done thee wrong? +Or thee? or thee? or any of your faction? +A plague upon you all! His royal person,-- +Whom God preserve better than you would wish!-- +Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while, +But you must trouble him with lewd complaints. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Brother of Gloucester, you mistake the matter. +The king, of his own royal disposition, +And not provoked by any suitor else; +Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred, +Which in your outward actions shows itself +Against my kindred, brothers, and myself, +Makes him to send; that thereby he may gather +The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it. + +GLOUCESTER: +I cannot tell: the world is grown so bad, +That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch: +Since every Jack became a gentleman +There's many a gentle person made a Jack. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Come, come, we know your meaning, brother +Gloucester; +You envy my advancement and my friends': +God grant we never may have need of you! + +GLOUCESTER: +Meantime, God grants that we have need of you: +Your brother is imprison'd by your means, +Myself disgraced, and the nobility +Held in contempt; whilst many fair promotions +Are daily given to ennoble those +That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +By Him that raised me to this careful height +From that contented hap which I enjoy'd, +I never did incense his majesty +Against the Duke of Clarence, but have been +An earnest advocate to plead for him. +My lord, you do me shameful injury, +Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects. + +GLOUCESTER: +You may deny that you were not the cause +Of my Lord Hastings' late imprisonment. + +RIVERS: +She may, my lord, for-- + +GLOUCESTER: +She may, Lord Rivers! why, who knows not so? +She may do more, sir, than denying that: +She may help you to many fair preferments, +And then deny her aiding hand therein, +And lay those honours on your high deserts. +What may she not? She may, yea, marry, may she-- + +RIVERS: +What, marry, may she? + +GLOUCESTER: +What, marry, may she! marry with a king, +A bachelor, a handsome stripling too: +I wis your grandam had a worser match. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +My Lord of Gloucester, I have too long borne +Your blunt upbraidings and your bitter scoffs: +By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty +With those gross taunts I often have endured. +I had rather be a country servant-maid +Than a great queen, with this condition, +To be thus taunted, scorn'd, and baited at: +Small joy have I in being England's queen. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +And lessen'd be that small, God, I beseech thee! +Thy honour, state and seat is due to me. + +GLOUCESTER: +What! threat you me with telling of the king? +Tell him, and spare not: look, what I have said +I will avouch in presence of the king: +I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower. +'Tis time to speak; my pains are quite forgot. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Out, devil! I remember them too well: +Thou slewest my husband Henry in the Tower, +And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury. + +GLOUCESTER: +Ere you were queen, yea, or your husband king, +I was a pack-horse in his great affairs; +A weeder-out of his proud adversaries, +A liberal rewarder of his friends: +To royalize his blood I spilt mine own. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Yea, and much better blood than his or thine. + +GLOUCESTER: +In all which time you and your husband Grey +Were factious for the house of Lancaster; +And, Rivers, so were you. Was not your husband +In Margaret's battle at Saint Alban's slain? +Let me put in your minds, if you forget, +What you have been ere now, and what you are; +Withal, what I have been, and what I am. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +A murderous villain, and so still thou art. + +GLOUCESTER: +Poor Clarence did forsake his father, Warwick; +Yea, and forswore himself,--which Jesu pardon!-- + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Which God revenge! + +GLOUCESTER: +To fight on Edward's party for the crown; +And for his meed, poor lord, he is mew'd up. +I would to God my heart were flint, like Edward's; +Or Edward's soft and pitiful, like mine +I am too childish-foolish for this world. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave the world, +Thou cacodemon! there thy kingdom is. + +RIVERS: +My Lord of Gloucester, in those busy days +Which here you urge to prove us enemies, +We follow'd then our lord, our lawful king: +So should we you, if you should be our king. + +GLOUCESTER: +If I should be! I had rather be a pedlar: +Far be it from my heart, the thought of it! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +As little joy, my lord, as you suppose +You should enjoy, were you this country's king, +As little joy may you suppose in me. +That I enjoy, being the queen thereof. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +A little joy enjoys the queen thereof; +For I am she, and altogether joyless. +I can no longer hold me patient. +Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out +In sharing that which you have pill'd from me! +Which of you trembles not that looks on me? +If not, that, I being queen, you bow like subjects, +Yet that, by you deposed, you quake like rebels? +O gentle villain, do not turn away! + +GLOUCESTER: +Foul wrinkled witch, what makest thou in my sight? + +QUEEN MARGARET: +But repetition of what thou hast marr'd; +That will I make before I let thee go. + +GLOUCESTER: +Wert thou not banished on pain of death? + +QUEEN MARGARET: +I was; but I do find more pain in banishment +Than death can yield me here by my abode. +A husband and a son thou owest to me; +And thou a kingdom; all of you allegiance: +The sorrow that I have, by right is yours, +And all the pleasures you usurp are mine. + +GLOUCESTER: +The curse my noble father laid on thee, +When thou didst crown his warlike brows with paper +And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes, +And then, to dry them, gavest the duke a clout +Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland-- +His curses, then from bitterness of soul +Denounced against thee, are all fall'n upon thee; +And God, not we, hath plagued thy bloody deed. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +So just is God, to right the innocent. + +HASTINGS: +O, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that babe, +And the most merciless that e'er was heard of! + +RIVERS: +Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported. + +DORSET: +No man but prophesied revenge for it. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Northumberland, then present, wept to see it. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +What were you snarling all before I came, +Ready to catch each other by the throat, +And turn you all your hatred now on me? +Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven? +That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death, +Their kingdom's loss, my woful banishment, +Could all but answer for that peevish brat? +Can curses pierce the clouds and enter heaven? +Why, then, give way, dull clouds, to my quick curses! +If not by war, by surfeit die your king, +As ours by murder, to make him a king! +Edward thy son, which now is Prince of Wales, +For Edward my son, which was Prince of Wales, +Die in his youth by like untimely violence! +Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen, +Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self! +Long mayst thou live to wail thy children's loss; +And see another, as I see thee now, +Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine! +Long die thy happy days before thy death; +And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief, +Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen! +Rivers and Dorset, you were standers by, +And so wast thou, Lord Hastings, when my son +Was stabb'd with bloody daggers: God, I pray him, +That none of you may live your natural age, +But by some unlook'd accident cut off! + +GLOUCESTER: +Have done thy charm, thou hateful wither'd hag! + +QUEEN MARGARET: +And leave out thee? stay, dog, for thou shalt hear me. +If heaven have any grievous plague in store +Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee, +O, let them keep it till thy sins be ripe, +And then hurl down their indignation +On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace! +The worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul! +Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou livest, +And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends! +No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine, +Unless it be whilst some tormenting dream +Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils! +Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog! +Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity +The slave of nature and the son of hell! +Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb! +Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins! +Thou rag of honour! thou detested-- + +GLOUCESTER: +Margaret. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Richard! + +GLOUCESTER: +Ha! + +QUEEN MARGARET: +I call thee not. + +GLOUCESTER: +I cry thee mercy then, for I had thought +That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Why, so I did; but look'd for no reply. +O, let me make the period to my curse! + +GLOUCESTER: +'Tis done by me, and ends in 'Margaret.' + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Thus have you breathed your curse against yourself. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune! +Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider, +Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about? +Fool, fool! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself. +The time will come when thou shalt wish for me +To help thee curse that poisonous bunchback'd toad. + +HASTINGS: +False-boding woman, end thy frantic curse, +Lest to thy harm thou move our patience. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Foul shame upon you! you have all moved mine. + +RIVERS: +Were you well served, you would be taught your duty. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +To serve me well, you all should do me duty, +Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects: +O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty! + +DORSET: +Dispute not with her; she is lunatic. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Peace, master marquess, you are malapert: +Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current. +O, that your young nobility could judge +What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable! +They that stand high have many blasts to shake them; +And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces. + +GLOUCESTER: +Good counsel, marry: learn it, learn it, marquess. + +DORSET: +It toucheth you, my lord, as much as me. + +GLOUCESTER: +Yea, and much more: but I was born so high, +Our aery buildeth in the cedar's top, +And dallies with the wind and scorns the sun. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +And turns the sun to shade; alas! alas! +Witness my son, now in the shade of death; +Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath +Hath in eternal darkness folded up. +Your aery buildeth in our aery's nest. +O God, that seest it, do not suffer it! +As it was won with blood, lost be it so! + +BUCKINGHAM: +Have done! for shame, if not for charity. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Urge neither charity nor shame to me: +Uncharitably with me have you dealt, +And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher'd. +My charity is outrage, life my shame +And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Have done, have done. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +O princely Buckingham I'll kiss thy hand, +In sign of league and amity with thee: +Now fair befal thee and thy noble house! +Thy garments are not spotted with our blood, +Nor thou within the compass of my curse. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Nor no one here; for curses never pass +The lips of those that breathe them in the air. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +I'll not believe but they ascend the sky, +And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace. +O Buckingham, take heed of yonder dog! +Look, when he fawns, he bites; and when he bites, +His venom tooth will rankle to the death: +Have not to do with him, beware of him; +Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him, +And all their ministers attend on him. + +GLOUCESTER: +What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel? +And soothe the devil that I warn thee from? +O, but remember this another day, +When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow, +And say poor Margaret was a prophetess! +Live each of you the subjects to his hate, +And he to yours, and all of you to God's! + +HASTINGS: +My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses. + +RIVERS: +And so doth mine: I muse why she's at liberty. + +GLOUCESTER: +I cannot blame her: by God's holy mother, +She hath had too much wrong; and I repent +My part thereof that I have done to her. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +I never did her any, to my knowledge. + +GLOUCESTER: +But you have all the vantage of her wrong. +I was too hot to do somebody good, +That is too cold in thinking of it now. +Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid, +He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains +God pardon them that are the cause of it! + +RIVERS: +A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion, +To pray for them that have done scathe to us. + +GLOUCESTER: +So do I ever: +being well-advised. +For had I cursed now, I had cursed myself. + +CATESBY: +Madam, his majesty doth call for you, +And for your grace; and you, my noble lords. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Catesby, we come. Lords, will you go with us? + +RIVERS: +Madam, we will attend your grace. + +GLOUCESTER: +I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. +The secret mischiefs that I set abroach +I lay unto the grievous charge of others. +Clarence, whom I, indeed, have laid in darkness, +I do beweep to many simple gulls +Namely, to Hastings, Derby, Buckingham; +And say it is the queen and her allies +That stir the king against the duke my brother. +Now, they believe it; and withal whet me +To be revenged on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: +But then I sigh; and, with a piece of scripture, +Tell them that God bids us do good for evil: +And thus I clothe my naked villany +With old odd ends stolen out of holy writ; +And seem a saint, when most I play the devil. +But, soft! here come my executioners. +How now, my hardy, stout resolved mates! +Are you now going to dispatch this deed? + +First Murderer: +We are, my lord; and come to have the warrant +That we may be admitted where he is. + +GLOUCESTER: +Well thought upon; I have it here about me. +When you have done, repair to Crosby Place. +But, sirs, be sudden in the execution, +Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead; +For Clarence is well-spoken, and perhaps +May move your hearts to pity if you mark him. + +First Murderer: +Tush! +Fear not, my lord, we will not stand to prate; +Talkers are no good doers: be assured +We come to use our hands and not our tongues. + +GLOUCESTER: +Your eyes drop millstones, when fools' eyes drop tears: +I like you, lads; about your business straight; +Go, go, dispatch. + +First Murderer: +We will, my noble lord. + +BRAKENBURY: +Why looks your grace so heavily today? + +CLARENCE: +O, I have pass'd a miserable night, +So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams, +That, as I am a Christian faithful man, +I would not spend another such a night, +Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days, +So full of dismal terror was the time! + +BRAKENBURY: +What was your dream? I long to hear you tell it. + +CLARENCE: +Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower, +And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy; +And, in my company, my brother Gloucester; +Who from my cabin tempted me to walk +Upon the hatches: thence we looked toward England, +And cited up a thousand fearful times, +During the wars of York and Lancaster +That had befall'n us. As we paced along +Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, +Methought that Gloucester stumbled; and, in falling, +Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard, +Into the tumbling billows of the main. +Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown! +What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears! +What ugly sights of death within mine eyes! +Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks; +Ten thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon; +Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, +Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, +All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea: +Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes +Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept, +As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems, +Which woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, +And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by. + +BRAKENBURY: +Had you such leisure in the time of death +To gaze upon the secrets of the deep? + +CLARENCE: +Methought I had; and often did I strive +To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood +Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth +To seek the empty, vast and wandering air; +But smother'd it within my panting bulk, +Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. + +BRAKENBURY: +Awaked you not with this sore agony? + +CLARENCE: +O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life; +O, then began the tempest to my soul, +Who pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, +With that grim ferryman which poets write of, +Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. +The first that there did greet my stranger soul, +Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick; +Who cried aloud, 'What scourge for perjury +Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?' +And so he vanish'd: then came wandering by +A shadow like an angel, with bright hair +Dabbled in blood; and he squeak'd out aloud, +'Clarence is come; false, fleeting, perjured Clarence, +That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury; +Seize on him, Furies, take him to your torments!' +With that, methoughts, a legion of foul fiends +Environ'd me about, and howled in mine ears +Such hideous cries, that with the very noise +I trembling waked, and for a season after +Could not believe but that I was in hell, +Such terrible impression made the dream. + +BRAKENBURY: +No marvel, my lord, though it affrighted you; +I promise, I am afraid to hear you tell it. + +CLARENCE: +O Brakenbury, I have done those things, +Which now bear evidence against my soul, +For Edward's sake; and see how he requites me! +O God! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee, +But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds, +Yet execute thy wrath in me alone, +O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children! +I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me; +My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep. + +BRAKENBURY: +I will, my lord: God give your grace good rest! +Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, +Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night. +Princes have but their tides for their glories, +An outward honour for an inward toil; +And, for unfelt imagination, +They often feel a world of restless cares: +So that, betwixt their tides and low names, +There's nothing differs but the outward fame. + +First Murderer: +Ho! who's here? + +BRAKENBURY: +In God's name what are you, and how came you hither? + +First Murderer: +I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs. + +BRAKENBURY: +Yea, are you so brief? + +Second Murderer: +O sir, it is better to be brief than tedious. Show +him our commission; talk no more. + +BRAKENBURY: +I am, in this, commanded to deliver +The noble Duke of Clarence to your hands: +I will not reason what is meant hereby, +Because I will be guiltless of the meaning. +Here are the keys, there sits the duke asleep: +I'll to the king; and signify to him +That thus I have resign'd my charge to you. + +First Murderer: +Do so, it is a point of wisdom: fare you well. + +Second Murderer: +What, shall we stab him as he sleeps? + +First Murderer: +No; then he will say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes. + +Second Murderer: +When he wakes! why, fool, he shall never wake till +the judgment-day. + +First Murderer: +Why, then he will say we stabbed him sleeping. + +Second Murderer: +The urging of that word 'judgment' hath bred a kind +of remorse in me. + +First Murderer: +What, art thou afraid? + +Second Murderer: +Not to kill him, having a warrant for it; but to be +damned for killing him, from which no warrant can defend us. + +First Murderer: +I thought thou hadst been resolute. + +Second Murderer: +So I am, to let him live. + +First Murderer: +Back to the Duke of Gloucester, tell him so. + +Second Murderer: +I pray thee, stay a while: I hope my holy humour +will change; 'twas wont to hold me but while one +would tell twenty. + +First Murderer: +How dost thou feel thyself now? + +Second Murderer: +'Faith, some certain dregs of conscience are yet +within me. + +First Murderer: +Remember our reward, when the deed is done. + +Second Murderer: +'Zounds, he dies: I had forgot the reward. + +First Murderer: +Where is thy conscience now? + +Second Murderer: +In the Duke of Gloucester's purse. + +First Murderer: +So when he opens his purse to give us our reward, +thy conscience flies out. + +Second Murderer: +Let it go; there's few or none will entertain it. + +First Murderer: +How if it come to thee again? + +Second Murderer: +I'll not meddle with it: it is a dangerous thing: it +makes a man a coward: a man cannot steal, but it +accuseth him; he cannot swear, but it cheques him; +he cannot lie with his neighbour's wife, but it +detects him: 'tis a blushing shamefast spirit that +mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of +obstacles: it made me once restore a purse of gold +that I found; it beggars any man that keeps it: it +is turned out of all towns and cities for a +dangerous thing; and every man that means to live +well endeavours to trust to himself and to live +without it. + +First Murderer: +'Zounds, it is even now at my elbow, persuading me +not to kill the duke. + +Second Murderer: +Take the devil in thy mind, and relieve him not: he +would insinuate with thee but to make thee sigh. + +First Murderer: +Tut, I am strong-framed, he cannot prevail with me, +I warrant thee. + +Second Murderer: +Spoke like a tail fellow that respects his +reputation. Come, shall we to this gear? + +First Murderer: +Take him over the costard with the hilts of thy +sword, and then we will chop him in the malmsey-butt +in the next room. + +Second Murderer: +O excellent devise! make a sop of him. + +First Murderer: +Hark! he stirs: shall I strike? + +Second Murderer: +No, first let's reason with him. + +CLARENCE: +Where art thou, keeper? give me a cup of wine. + +Second murderer: +You shall have wine enough, my lord, anon. + +CLARENCE: +In God's name, what art thou? + +Second Murderer: +A man, as you are. + +CLARENCE: +But not, as I am, royal. + +Second Murderer: +Nor you, as we are, loyal. + +CLARENCE: +Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble. + +Second Murderer: +My voice is now the king's, my looks mine own. + +CLARENCE: +How darkly and how deadly dost thou speak! +Your eyes do menace me: why look you pale? +Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come? + +Both: +To, to, to-- + +CLARENCE: +To murder me? + +Both: +Ay, ay. + +CLARENCE: +You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so, +And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it. +Wherein, my friends, have I offended you? + +First Murderer: +Offended us you have not, but the king. + +CLARENCE: +I shall be reconciled to him again. + +Second Murderer: +Never, my lord; therefore prepare to die. + +CLARENCE: +Are you call'd forth from out a world of men +To slay the innocent? What is my offence? +Where are the evidence that do accuse me? +What lawful quest have given their verdict up +Unto the frowning judge? or who pronounced +The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death? +Before I be convict by course of law, +To threaten me with death is most unlawful. +I charge you, as you hope to have redemption +By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins, +That you depart and lay no hands on me +The deed you undertake is damnable. + +First Murderer: +What we will do, we do upon command. + +Second Murderer: +And he that hath commanded is the king. + +CLARENCE: +Erroneous vassal! the great King of kings +Hath in the tables of his law commanded +That thou shalt do no murder: and wilt thou, then, +Spurn at his edict and fulfil a man's? +Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his hands, +To hurl upon their heads that break his law. + +Second Murderer: +And that same vengeance doth he hurl on thee, +For false forswearing and for murder too: +Thou didst receive the holy sacrament, +To fight in quarrel of the house of Lancaster. + +First Murderer: +And, like a traitor to the name of God, +Didst break that vow; and with thy treacherous blade +Unrip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son. + +Second Murderer: +Whom thou wert sworn to cherish and defend. + +First Murderer: +How canst thou urge God's dreadful law to us, +When thou hast broke it in so dear degree? + +CLARENCE: +Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deed? +For Edward, for my brother, for his sake: Why, sirs, +He sends ye not to murder me for this +For in this sin he is as deep as I. +If God will be revenged for this deed. +O, know you yet, he doth it publicly, +Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm; +He needs no indirect nor lawless course +To cut off those that have offended him. + +First Murderer: +Who made thee, then, a bloody minister, +When gallant-springing brave Plantagenet, +That princely novice, was struck dead by thee? + +CLARENCE: +My brother's love, the devil, and my rage. + +First Murderer: +Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy fault, +Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee. + +CLARENCE: +Oh, if you love my brother, hate not me; +I am his brother, and I love him well. +If you be hired for meed, go back again, +And I will send you to my brother Gloucester, +Who shall reward you better for my life +Than Edward will for tidings of my death. + +Second Murderer: +You are deceived, your brother Gloucester hates you. + +CLARENCE: +O, no, he loves me, and he holds me dear: +Go you to him from me. + +Both: +Ay, so we will. + +CLARENCE: +Tell him, when that our princely father York +Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm, +And charged us from his soul to love each other, +He little thought of this divided friendship: +Bid Gloucester think of this, and he will weep. + +First Murderer: +Ay, millstones; as be lesson'd us to weep. + +CLARENCE: +O, do not slander him, for he is kind. + +First Murderer: +Right, +As snow in harvest. Thou deceivest thyself: +'Tis he that sent us hither now to slaughter thee. + +CLARENCE: +It cannot be; for when I parted with him, +He hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs, +That he would labour my delivery. + +Second Murderer: +Why, so he doth, now he delivers thee +From this world's thraldom to the joys of heaven. + +First Murderer: +Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord. + +CLARENCE: +Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul, +To counsel me to make my peace with God, +And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind, +That thou wilt war with God by murdering me? +Ah, sirs, consider, he that set you on +To do this deed will hate you for the deed. + +Second Murderer: +What shall we do? + +CLARENCE: +Relent, and save your souls. + +First Murderer: +Relent! 'tis cowardly and womanish. + +CLARENCE: +Not to relent is beastly, savage, devilish. +Which of you, if you were a prince's son, +Being pent from liberty, as I am now, +if two such murderers as yourselves came to you, +Would not entreat for life? +My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks: +O, if thine eye be not a flatterer, +Come thou on my side, and entreat for me, +As you would beg, were you in my distress +A begging prince what beggar pities not? + +Second Murderer: +Look behind you, my lord. + +First Murderer: +Take that, and that: if all this will not do, +I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within. + +Second Murderer: +A bloody deed, and desperately dispatch'd! +How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands +Of this most grievous guilty murder done! + +First Murderer: +How now! what mean'st thou, that thou help'st me not? +By heavens, the duke shall know how slack thou art! + +Second Murderer: +I would he knew that I had saved his brother! +Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say; +For I repent me that the duke is slain. + +First Murderer: +So do not I: go, coward as thou art. +Now must I hide his body in some hole, +Until the duke take order for his burial: +And when I have my meed, I must away; +For this will out, and here I must not stay. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Why, so: now have I done a good day's work: +You peers, continue this united league: +I every day expect an embassage +From my Redeemer to redeem me hence; +And now in peace my soul shall part to heaven, +Since I have set my friends at peace on earth. +Rivers and Hastings, take each other's hand; +Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love. + +RIVERS: +By heaven, my heart is purged from grudging hate: +And with my hand I seal my true heart's love. + +HASTINGS: +So thrive I, as I truly swear the like! + +KING EDWARD IV: +Take heed you dally not before your king; +Lest he that is the supreme King of kings +Confound your hidden falsehood, and award +Either of you to be the other's end. + +HASTINGS: +So prosper I, as I swear perfect love! + +RIVERS: +And I, as I love Hastings with my heart! + +KING EDWARD IV: +Madam, yourself are not exempt in this, +Nor your son Dorset, Buckingham, nor you; +You have been factious one against the other, +Wife, love Lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand; +And what you do, do it unfeignedly. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Here, Hastings; I will never more remember +Our former hatred, so thrive I and mine! + +KING EDWARD IV: +Dorset, embrace him; Hastings, love lord marquess. + +DORSET: +This interchange of love, I here protest, +Upon my part shall be unviolable. + +HASTINGS: +And so swear I, my lord + +KING EDWARD IV: +Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league +With thy embracements to my wife's allies, +And make me happy in your unity. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate +On you or yours, +but with all duteous love +Doth cherish you and yours, God punish me +With hate in those where I expect most love! +When I have most need to employ a friend, +And most assured that he is a friend +Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile, +Be he unto me! this do I beg of God, +When I am cold in zeal to yours. + +KING EDWARD IV: +A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham, +is this thy vow unto my sickly heart. +There wanteth now our brother Gloucester here, +To make the perfect period of this peace. + +BUCKINGHAM: +And, in good time, here comes the noble duke. + +GLOUCESTER: +Good morrow to my sovereign king and queen: +And, princely peers, a happy time of day! + +KING EDWARD IV: +Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day. +Brother, we done deeds of charity; +Made peace enmity, fair love of hate, +Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers. + +GLOUCESTER: +A blessed labour, my most sovereign liege: +Amongst this princely heap, if any here, +By false intelligence, or wrong surmise, +Hold me a foe; +If I unwittingly, or in my rage, +Have aught committed that is hardly borne +By any in this presence, I desire +To reconcile me to his friendly peace: +'Tis death to me to be at enmity; +I hate it, and desire all good men's love. +First, madam, I entreat true peace of you, +Which I will purchase with my duteous service; +Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham, +If ever any grudge were lodged between us; +Of you, Lord Rivers, and, Lord Grey, of you; +That without desert have frown'd on me; +Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen; indeed, of all. +I do not know that Englishman alive +With whom my soul is any jot at odds +More than the infant that is born to-night +I thank my God for my humility. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +A holy day shall this be kept hereafter: +I would to God all strifes were well compounded. +My sovereign liege, I do beseech your majesty +To take our brother Clarence to your grace. + +GLOUCESTER: +Why, madam, have I offer'd love for this +To be so bouted in this royal presence? +Who knows not that the noble duke is dead? +You do him injury to scorn his corse. + +RIVERS: +Who knows not he is dead! who knows he is? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +All seeing heaven, what a world is this! + +BUCKINGHAM: +Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the rest? + +DORSET: +Ay, my good lord; and no one in this presence +But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Is Clarence dead? the order was reversed. + +GLOUCESTER: +But he, poor soul, by your first order died, +And that a winged Mercury did bear: +Some tardy cripple bore the countermand, +That came too lag to see him buried. +God grant that some, less noble and less loyal, +Nearer in bloody thoughts, but not in blood, +Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did, +And yet go current from suspicion! + +DORSET: +A boon, my sovereign, for my service done! + +KING EDWARD IV: +I pray thee, peace: my soul is full of sorrow. + +DORSET: +I will not rise, unless your highness grant. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Then speak at once what is it thou demand'st. + +DORSET: +The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life; +Who slew to-day a righteous gentleman +Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Have a tongue to doom my brother's death, +And shall the same give pardon to a slave? +My brother slew no man; his fault was thought, +And yet his punishment was cruel death. +Who sued to me for him? who, in my rage, +Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advised +Who spake of brotherhood? who spake of love? +Who told me how the poor soul did forsake +The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me? +Who told me, in the field by Tewksbury +When Oxford had me down, he rescued me, +And said, 'Dear brother, live, and be a king'? +Who told me, when we both lay in the field +Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me +Even in his own garments, and gave himself, +All thin and naked, to the numb cold night? +All this from my remembrance brutish wrath +Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you +Had so much grace to put it in my mind. +But when your carters or your waiting-vassals +Have done a drunken slaughter, and defaced +The precious image of our dear Redeemer, +You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon; +And I unjustly too, must grant it you +But for my brother not a man would speak, +Nor I, ungracious, speak unto myself +For him, poor soul. The proudest of you all +Have been beholding to him in his life; +Yet none of you would once plead for his life. +O God, I fear thy justice will take hold +On me, and you, and mine, and yours for this! +Come, Hastings, help me to my closet. +Oh, poor Clarence! + +GLOUCESTER: +This is the fruit of rashness! Mark'd you not +How that the guilty kindred of the queen +Look'd pale when they did hear of Clarence' death? +O, they did urge it still unto the king! +God will revenge it. But come, let us in, +To comfort Edward with our company. + +BUCKINGHAM: +We wait upon your grace. + +Boy: +Tell me, good grandam, is our father dead? + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +No, boy. + +Boy: +Why do you wring your hands, and beat your breast, +And cry 'O Clarence, my unhappy son!' + +Girl: +Why do you look on us, and shake your head, +And call us wretches, orphans, castaways +If that our noble father be alive? + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +My pretty cousins, you mistake me much; +I do lament the sickness of the king. +As loath to lose him, not your father's death; +It were lost sorrow to wail one that's lost. + +Boy: +Then, grandam, you conclude that he is dead. +The king my uncle is to blame for this: +God will revenge it; whom I will importune +With daily prayers all to that effect. + +Girl: +And so will I. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Peace, children, peace! the king doth love you well: +Incapable and shallow innocents, +You cannot guess who caused your father's death. + +Boy: +Grandam, we can; for my good uncle Gloucester +Told me, the king, provoked by the queen, +Devised impeachments to imprison him : +And when my uncle told me so, he wept, +And hugg'd me in his arm, and kindly kiss'd my cheek; +Bade me rely on him as on my father, +And he would love me dearly as his child. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Oh, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes, +And with a virtuous vizard hide foul guile! +He is my son; yea, and therein my shame; +Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit. + +Boy: +Think you my uncle did dissemble, grandam? + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Ay, boy. + +Boy: +I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is this? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Oh, who shall hinder me to wail and weep, +To chide my fortune, and torment myself? +I'll join with black despair against my soul, +And to myself become an enemy. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +What means this scene of rude impatience? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +To make an act of tragic violence: +Edward, my lord, your son, our king, is dead. +Why grow the branches now the root is wither'd? +Why wither not the leaves the sap being gone? +If you will live, lament; if die, be brief, +That our swift-winged souls may catch the king's; +Or, like obedient subjects, follow him +To his new kingdom of perpetual rest. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow +As I had title in thy noble husband! +I have bewept a worthy husband's death, +And lived by looking on his images: +But now two mirrors of his princely semblance +Are crack'd in pieces by malignant death, +And I for comfort have but one false glass, +Which grieves me when I see my shame in him. +Thou art a widow; yet thou art a mother, +And hast the comfort of thy children left thee: +But death hath snatch'd my husband from mine arms, +And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble limbs, +Edward and Clarence. O, what cause have I, +Thine being but a moiety of my grief, +To overgo thy plaints and drown thy cries! + +Boy: +Good aunt, you wept not for our father's death; +How can we aid you with our kindred tears? + +Girl: +Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd; +Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Give me no help in lamentation; +I am not barren to bring forth complaints +All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, +That I, being govern'd by the watery moon, +May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world! +Oh for my husband, for my dear lord Edward! + +Children: +Oh for our father, for our dear lord Clarence! + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +What stay had I but Edward? and he's gone. + +Children: +What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +What stays had I but they? and they are gone. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Was never widow had so dear a loss! + +Children: +Were never orphans had so dear a loss! + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Was never mother had so dear a loss! +Alas, I am the mother of these moans! +Their woes are parcell'd, mine are general. +She for an Edward weeps, and so do I; +I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she: +These babes for Clarence weep and so do I; +I for an Edward weep, so do not they: +Alas, you three, on me, threefold distress'd, +Pour all your tears! I am your sorrow's nurse, +And I will pamper it with lamentations. + +DORSET: +Comfort, dear mother: God is much displeased +That you take with unthankfulness, his doing: +In common worldly things, 'tis call'd ungrateful, +With dull unwilligness to repay a debt +Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent; +Much more to be thus opposite with heaven, +For it requires the royal debt it lent you. + +RIVERS: +Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother, +Of the young prince your son: send straight for him +Let him be crown'd; in him your comfort lives: +Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave, +And plant your joys in living Edward's throne. + +GLOUCESTER: +Madam, have comfort: all of us have cause +To wail the dimming of our shining star; +But none can cure their harms by wailing them. +Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy; +I did not see your grace: humbly on my knee +I crave your blessing. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +God bless thee; and put meekness in thy mind, +Love, charity, obedience, and true duty! + +GLOUCESTER: + +BUCKINGHAM: +You cloudy princes and heart-sorrowing peers, +That bear this mutual heavy load of moan, +Now cheer each other in each other's love +Though we have spent our harvest of this king, +We are to reap the harvest of his son. +The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts, +But lately splinter'd, knit, and join'd together, +Must gently be preserved, cherish'd, and kept: +Me seemeth good, that, with some little train, +Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd +Hither to London, to be crown'd our king. + +RIVERS: +Why with some little train, my Lord of Buckingham? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Marry, my lord, lest, by a multitude, +The new-heal'd wound of malice should break out, +Which would be so much the more dangerous +By how much the estate is green and yet ungovern'd: +Where every horse bears his commanding rein, +And may direct his course as please himself, +As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent, +In my opinion, ought to be prevented. + +GLOUCESTER: +I hope the king made peace with all of us +And the compact is firm and true in me. + +RIVERS: +And so in me; and so, I think, in all: +Yet, since it is but green, it should be put +To no apparent likelihood of breach, +Which haply by much company might be urged: +Therefore I say with noble Buckingham, +That it is meet so few should fetch the prince. + +HASTINGS: +And so say I. + +GLOUCESTER: +Then be it so; and go we to determine +Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow. +Madam, and you, my mother, will you go +To give your censures in this weighty business? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +With all our harts. + +BUCKINGHAM: +My lord, whoever journeys to the Prince, +For God's sake, let not us two be behind; +For, by the way, I'll sort occasion, +As index to the story we late talk'd of, +To part the queen's proud kindred from the king. + +GLOUCESTER: +My other self, my counsel's consistory, +My oracle, my prophet! My dear cousin, +I, like a child, will go by thy direction. +Towards Ludlow then, for we'll not stay behind. + +First Citizen: +Neighbour, well met: whither away so fast? + +Second Citizen: +I promise you, I scarcely know myself: +Hear you the news abroad? + +First Citizen: +Ay, that the king is dead. + +Second Citizen: +Bad news, by'r lady; seldom comes the better: +I fear, I fear 'twill prove a troublous world. + +Third Citizen: +Neighbours, God speed! + +First Citizen: +Give you good morrow, sir. + +Third Citizen: +Doth this news hold of good King Edward's death? + +Second Citizen: +Ay, sir, it is too true; God help the while! + +Third Citizen: +Then, masters, look to see a troublous world. + +First Citizen: +No, no; by God's good grace his son shall reign. + +Third Citizen: +Woe to the land that's govern'd by a child! + +Second Citizen: +In him there is a hope of government, +That in his nonage council under him, +And in his full and ripen'd years himself, +No doubt, shall then and till then govern well. + +First Citizen: +So stood the state when Henry the Sixth +Was crown'd in Paris but at nine months old. + +Third Citizen: +Stood the state so? No, no, good friends, God wot; +For then this land was famously enrich'd +With politic grave counsel; then the king +Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace. + +First Citizen: +Why, so hath this, both by the father and mother. + +Third Citizen: +Better it were they all came by the father, +Or by the father there were none at all; +For emulation now, who shall be nearest, +Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not. +O, full of danger is the Duke of Gloucester! +And the queen's sons and brothers haught and proud: +And were they to be ruled, and not to rule, +This sickly land might solace as before. + +First Citizen: +Come, come, we fear the worst; all shall be well. + +Third Citizen: +When clouds appear, wise men put on their cloaks; +When great leaves fall, the winter is at hand; +When the sun sets, who doth not look for night? +Untimely storms make men expect a dearth. +All may be well; but, if God sort it so, +'Tis more than we deserve, or I expect. + +Second Citizen: +Truly, the souls of men are full of dread: +Ye cannot reason almost with a man +That looks not heavily and full of fear. + +Third Citizen: +Before the times of change, still is it so: +By a divine instinct men's minds mistrust +Ensuing dangers; as by proof, we see +The waters swell before a boisterous storm. +But leave it all to God. whither away? + +Second Citizen: +Marry, we were sent for to the justices. + +Third Citizen: +And so was I: I'll bear you company. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK: +Last night, I hear, they lay at Northampton; +At Stony-Stratford will they be to-night: +To-morrow, or next day, they will be here. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +I long with all my heart to see the prince: +I hope he is much grown since last I saw him. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +But I hear, no; they say my son of York +Hath almost overta'en him in his growth. + +YORK: +Ay, mother; but I would not have it so. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Why, my young cousin, it is good to grow. + +YORK: +Grandam, one night, as we did sit at supper, +My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow +More than my brother: 'Ay,' quoth my uncle +Gloucester, +'Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace:' +And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast, +Because sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold +In him that did object the same to thee; +He was the wretched'st thing when he was young, +So long a-growing and so leisurely, +That, if this rule were true, he should be gracious. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK: +Why, madam, so, no doubt, he is. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +I hope he is; but yet let mothers doubt. + +YORK: +Now, by my troth, if I had been remember'd, +I could have given my uncle's grace a flout, +To touch his growth nearer than he touch'd mine. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +How, my pretty York? I pray thee, let me hear it. + +YORK: +Marry, they say my uncle grew so fast +That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old +'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth. +Grandam, this would have been a biting jest. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +I pray thee, pretty York, who told thee this? + +YORK: +Grandam, his nurse. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +His nurse! why, she was dead ere thou wert born. + +YORK: +If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +A parlous boy: go to, you are too shrewd. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK: +Good madam, be not angry with the child. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Pitchers have ears. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK: +Here comes a messenger. What news? + +Messenger: +Such news, my lord, as grieves me to unfold. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +How fares the prince? + +Messenger: +Well, madam, and in health. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +What is thy news then? + +Messenger: +Lord Rivers and Lord Grey are sent to Pomfret, +With them Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Who hath committed them? + +Messenger: +The mighty dukes +Gloucester and Buckingham. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +For what offence? + +Messenger: +The sum of all I can, I have disclosed; +Why or for what these nobles were committed +Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Ay me, I see the downfall of our house! +The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind; +Insulting tyranny begins to jet +Upon the innocent and aweless throne: +Welcome, destruction, death, and massacre! +I see, as in a map, the end of all. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Accursed and unquiet wrangling days, +How many of you have mine eyes beheld! +My husband lost his life to get the crown; +And often up and down my sons were toss'd, +For me to joy and weep their gain and loss: +And being seated, and domestic broils +Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors. +Make war upon themselves; blood against blood, +Self against self: O, preposterous +And frantic outrage, end thy damned spleen; +Or let me die, to look on death no more! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Come, come, my boy; we will to sanctuary. +Madam, farewell. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +I'll go along with you. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +You have no cause. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK: +My gracious lady, go; +And thither bear your treasure and your goods. +For my part, I'll resign unto your grace +The seal I keep: and so betide to me +As well I tender you and all of yours! +Come, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber. + +GLOUCESTER: +Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sovereign +The weary way hath made you melancholy. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +No, uncle; but our crosses on the way +Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy +I want more uncles here to welcome me. + +GLOUCESTER: +Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your years +Hath not yet dived into the world's deceit +Nor more can you distinguish of a man +Than of his outward show; which, God he knows, +Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart. +Those uncles which you want were dangerous; +Your grace attended to their sugar'd words, +But look'd not on the poison of their hearts : +God keep you from them, and from such false friends! + +PRINCE EDWARD: +God keep me from false friends! but they were none. + +GLOUCESTER: +My lord, the mayor of London comes to greet you. + +Lord Mayor: +God bless your grace with health and happy days! + +PRINCE EDWARD: +I thank you, good my lord; and thank you all. +I thought my mother, and my brother York, +Would long ere this have met us on the way +Fie, what a slug is Hastings, that he comes not +To tell us whether they will come or no! + +BUCKINGHAM: +And, in good time, here comes the sweating lord. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +Welcome, my lord: what, will our mother come? + +HASTINGS: +On what occasion, God he knows, not I, +The queen your mother, and your brother York, +Have taken sanctuary: the tender prince +Would fain have come with me to meet your grace, +But by his mother was perforce withheld. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Fie, what an indirect and peevish course +Is this of hers! Lord cardinal, will your grace +Persuade the queen to send the Duke of York +Unto his princely brother presently? +If she deny, Lord Hastings, go with him, +And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce. + +CARDINAL: +My Lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory +Can from his mother win the Duke of York, +Anon expect him here; but if she be obdurate +To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid +We should infringe the holy privilege +Of blessed sanctuary! not for all this land +Would I be guilty of so deep a sin. + +BUCKINGHAM: +You are too senseless--obstinate, my lord, +Too ceremonious and traditional +Weigh it but with the grossness of this age, +You break not sanctuary in seizing him. +The benefit thereof is always granted +To those whose dealings have deserved the place, +And those who have the wit to claim the place: +This prince hath neither claim'd it nor deserved it; +And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it: +Then, taking him from thence that is not there, +You break no privilege nor charter there. +Oft have I heard of sanctuary men; +But sanctuary children ne'er till now. + +CARDINAL: +My lord, you shall o'er-rule my mind for once. +Come on, Lord Hastings, will you go with me? + +HASTINGS: +I go, my lord. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +Good lords, make all the speedy haste you may. +Say, uncle Gloucester, if our brother come, +Where shall we sojourn till our coronation? + +GLOUCESTER: +Where it seems best unto your royal self. +If I may counsel you, some day or two +Your highness shall repose you at the Tower: +Then where you please, and shall be thought most fit +For your best health and recreation. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +I do not like the Tower, of any place. +Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord? + +BUCKINGHAM: +He did, my gracious lord, begin that place; +Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +Is it upon record, or else reported +Successively from age to age, he built it? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Upon record, my gracious lord. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +But say, my lord, it were not register'd, +Methinks the truth should live from age to age, +As 'twere retail'd to all posterity, +Even to the general all-ending day. + +GLOUCESTER: + +PRINCE EDWARD: +What say you, uncle? + +GLOUCESTER: +I say, without characters, fame lives long. +Thus, like the formal vice, Iniquity, +I moralize two meanings in one word. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +That Julius Caesar was a famous man; +With what his valour did enrich his wit, +His wit set down to make his valour live +Death makes no conquest of this conqueror; +For now he lives in fame, though not in life. +I'll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham,-- + +BUCKINGHAM: +What, my gracious lord? + +PRINCE EDWARD: +An if I live until I be a man, +I'll win our ancient right in France again, +Or die a soldier, as I lived a king. + +GLOUCESTER: + +BUCKINGHAM: +Now, in good time, here comes the Duke of York. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +Richard of York! how fares our loving brother? + +YORK: +Well, my dread lord; so must I call you now. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +Ay, brother, to our grief, as it is yours: +Too late he died that might have kept that title, +Which by his death hath lost much majesty. + +GLOUCESTER: +How fares our cousin, noble Lord of York? + +YORK: +I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my lord, +You said that idle weeds are fast in growth +The prince my brother hath outgrown me far. + +GLOUCESTER: +He hath, my lord. + +YORK: +And therefore is he idle? + +GLOUCESTER: +O, my fair cousin, I must not say so. + +YORK: +Then is he more beholding to you than I. + +GLOUCESTER: +He may command me as my sovereign; +But you have power in me as in a kinsman. + +YORK: +I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger. + +GLOUCESTER: +My dagger, little cousin? with all my heart. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +A beggar, brother? + +YORK: +Of my kind uncle, that I know will give; +And being but a toy, which is no grief to give. + +GLOUCESTER: +A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin. + +YORK: +A greater gift! O, that's the sword to it. + +GLOUCESTER: +A gentle cousin, were it light enough. + +YORK: +O, then, I see, you will part but with light gifts; +In weightier things you'll say a beggar nay. + +GLOUCESTER: +It is too heavy for your grace to wear. + +YORK: +I weigh it lightly, were it heavier. + +GLOUCESTER: +What, would you have my weapon, little lord? + +YORK: +I would, that I might thank you as you call me. + +GLOUCESTER: +How? + +YORK: +Little. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +My Lord of York will still be cross in talk: +Uncle, your grace knows how to bear with him. + +YORK: +You mean, to bear me, not to bear with me: +Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me; +Because that I am little, like an ape, +He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders. + +BUCKINGHAM: +With what a sharp-provided wit he reasons! +To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle, +He prettily and aptly taunts himself: +So cunning and so young is wonderful. + +GLOUCESTER: +My lord, will't please you pass along? +Myself and my good cousin Buckingham +Will to your mother, to entreat of her +To meet you at the Tower and welcome you. + +YORK: +What, will you go unto the Tower, my lord? + +PRINCE EDWARD: +My lord protector needs will have it so. + +YORK: +I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower. + +GLOUCESTER: +Why, what should you fear? + +YORK: +Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost: +My grandam told me he was murdered there. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +I fear no uncles dead. + +GLOUCESTER: +Nor none that live, I hope. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +An if they live, I hope I need not fear. +But come, my lord; and with a heavy heart, +Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Think you, my lord, this little prating York +Was not incensed by his subtle mother +To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously? + +GLOUCESTER: +No doubt, no doubt; O, 'tis a parlous boy; +Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable +He is all the mother's, from the top to toe. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Well, let them rest. Come hither, Catesby. +Thou art sworn as deeply to effect what we intend +As closely to conceal what we impart: +Thou know'st our reasons urged upon the way; +What think'st thou? is it not an easy matter +To make William Lord Hastings of our mind, +For the instalment of this noble duke +In the seat royal of this famous isle? + +CATESBY: +He for his father's sake so loves the prince, +That he will not be won to aught against him. + +BUCKINGHAM: +What think'st thou, then, of Stanley? what will he? + +CATESBY: +He will do all in all as Hastings doth. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Well, then, no more but this: go, gentle Catesby, +And, as it were far off sound thou Lord Hastings, +How doth he stand affected to our purpose; +And summon him to-morrow to the Tower, +To sit about the coronation. +If thou dost find him tractable to us, +Encourage him, and show him all our reasons: +If he be leaden, icy-cold, unwilling, +Be thou so too; and so break off your talk, +And give us notice of his inclination: +For we to-morrow hold divided councils, +Wherein thyself shalt highly be employ'd. + +GLOUCESTER: +Commend me to Lord William: tell him, Catesby, +His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries +To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret-castle; +And bid my friend, for joy of this good news, +Give mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Good Catesby, go, effect this business soundly. + +CATESBY: +My good lords both, with all the heed I may. + +GLOUCESTER: +Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere we sleep? + +CATESBY: +You shall, my lord. + +GLOUCESTER: +At Crosby Place, there shall you find us both. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Now, my lord, what shall we do, if we perceive +Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots? + +GLOUCESTER: +Chop off his head, man; somewhat we will do: +And, look, when I am king, claim thou of me +The earldom of Hereford, and the moveables +Whereof the king my brother stood possess'd. + +BUCKINGHAM: +I'll claim that promise at your grace's hands. + +GLOUCESTER: +And look to have it yielded with all willingness. +Come, let us sup betimes, that afterwards +We may digest our complots in some form. + +Messenger: +What, ho! my lord! + +HASTINGS: + +Messenger: +A messenger from the Lord Stanley. + +HASTINGS: +What is't o'clock? + +Messenger: +Upon the stroke of four. + +HASTINGS: +Cannot thy master sleep these tedious nights? + +Messenger: +So it should seem by that I have to say. +First, he commends him to your noble lordship. + +HASTINGS: +And then? + +Messenger: +And then he sends you word +He dreamt to-night the boar had razed his helm: +Besides, he says there are two councils held; +And that may be determined at the one +which may make you and him to rue at the other. +Therefore he sends to know your lordship's pleasure, +If presently you will take horse with him, +And with all speed post with him toward the north, +To shun the danger that his soul divines. + +HASTINGS: +Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord; +Bid him not fear the separated councils +His honour and myself are at the one, +And at the other is my servant Catesby +Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us +Whereof I shall not have intelligence. +Tell him his fears are shallow, wanting instance: +And for his dreams, I wonder he is so fond +To trust the mockery of unquiet slumbers +To fly the boar before the boar pursues, +Were to incense the boar to follow us +And make pursuit where he did mean no chase. +Go, bid thy master rise and come to me +And we will both together to the Tower, +Where, he shall see, the boar will use us kindly. + +Messenger: +My gracious lord, I'll tell him what you say. + +CATESBY: +Many good morrows to my noble lord! + +HASTINGS: +Good morrow, Catesby; you are early stirring +What news, what news, in this our tottering state? + +CATESBY: +It is a reeling world, indeed, my lord; +And I believe twill never stand upright +Tim Richard wear the garland of the realm. + +HASTINGS: +How! wear the garland! dost thou mean the crown? + +CATESBY: +Ay, my good lord. + +HASTINGS: +I'll have this crown of mine cut from my shoulders +Ere I will see the crown so foul misplaced. +But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it? + +CATESBY: +Ay, on my life; and hopes to find forward +Upon his party for the gain thereof: +And thereupon he sends you this good news, +That this same very day your enemies, +The kindred of the queen, must die at Pomfret. + +HASTINGS: +Indeed, I am no mourner for that news, +Because they have been still mine enemies: +But, that I'll give my voice on Richard's side, +To bar my master's heirs in true descent, +God knows I will not do it, to the death. + +CATESBY: +God keep your lordship in that gracious mind! + +HASTINGS: +But I shall laugh at this a twelve-month hence, +That they who brought me in my master's hate +I live to look upon their tragedy. +I tell thee, Catesby-- + +CATESBY: +What, my lord? + +HASTINGS: +Ere a fortnight make me elder, +I'll send some packing that yet think not on it. + +CATESBY: +'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord, +When men are unprepared and look not for it. + +HASTINGS: +O monstrous, monstrous! and so falls it out +With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: and so 'twill do +With some men else, who think themselves as safe +As thou and I; who, as thou know'st, are dear +To princely Richard and to Buckingham. + +CATESBY: +The princes both make high account of you; +For they account his head upon the bridge. + +HASTINGS: +I know they do; and I have well deserved it. +Come on, come on; where is your boar-spear, man? +Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided? + +STANLEY: +My lord, good morrow; good morrow, Catesby: +You may jest on, but, by the holy rood, +I do not like these several councils, I. + +HASTINGS: +My lord, +I hold my life as dear as you do yours; +And never in my life, I do protest, +Was it more precious to me than 'tis now: +Think you, but that I know our state secure, +I would be so triumphant as I am? + +STANLEY: +The lords at Pomfret, when they rode from London, +Were jocund, and supposed their state was sure, +And they indeed had no cause to mistrust; +But yet, you see how soon the day o'ercast. +This sudden stag of rancour I misdoubt: +Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward! +What, shall we toward the Tower? the day is spent. + +HASTINGS: +Come, come, have with you. Wot you what, my lord? +To-day the lords you talk of are beheaded. + +LORD STANLEY: +They, for their truth, might better wear their heads +Than some that have accused them wear their hats. +But come, my lord, let us away. + +HASTINGS: +Go on before; I'll talk with this good fellow. +How now, sirrah! how goes the world with thee? + +Pursuivant: +The better that your lordship please to ask. + +HASTINGS: +I tell thee, man, 'tis better with me now +Than when I met thee last where now we meet: +Then was I going prisoner to the Tower, +By the suggestion of the queen's allies; +But now, I tell thee--keep it to thyself-- +This day those enemies are put to death, +And I in better state than e'er I was. + +Pursuivant: +God hold it, to your honour's good content! + +HASTINGS: +Gramercy, fellow: there, drink that for me. + +Pursuivant: +God save your lordship! + +Priest: +Well met, my lord; I am glad to see your honour. + +HASTINGS: +I thank thee, good Sir John, with all my heart. +I am in your debt for your last exercise; +Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you. + +BUCKINGHAM: +What, talking with a priest, lord chamberlain? +Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest; +Your honour hath no shriving work in hand. + +HASTINGS: +Good faith, and when I met this holy man, +Those men you talk of came into my mind. +What, go you toward the Tower? + +BUCKINGHAM: +I do, my lord; but long I shall not stay +I shall return before your lordship thence. + +HASTINGS: +'Tis like enough, for I stay dinner there. + +BUCKINGHAM: + +HASTINGS: +I'll wait upon your lordship. + +RATCLIFF: +Come, bring forth the prisoners. + +RIVERS: +Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee this: +To-day shalt thou behold a subject die +For truth, for duty, and for loyalty. + +GREY: +God keep the prince from all the pack of you! +A knot you are of damned blood-suckers! + +VAUGHAN: +You live that shall cry woe for this after. + +RATCLIFF: +Dispatch; the limit of your lives is out. + +RIVERS: +O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody prison, +Fatal and ominous to noble peers! +Within the guilty closure of thy walls +Richard the second here was hack'd to death; +And, for more slander to thy dismal seat, +We give thee up our guiltless blood to drink. + +GREY: +Now Margaret's curse is fall'n upon our heads, +For standing by when Richard stabb'd her son. + +RIVERS: +Then cursed she Hastings, then cursed she Buckingham, +Then cursed she Richard. O, remember, God +To hear her prayers for them, as now for us +And for my sister and her princely sons, +Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood, +Which, as thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt. + +RATCLIFF: +Make haste; the hour of death is expiate. + +RIVERS: +Come, Grey, come, Vaughan, let us all embrace: +And take our leave, until we meet in heaven. + +HASTINGS: +My lords, at once: the cause why we are met +Is, to determine of the coronation. +In God's name, speak: when is the royal day? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Are all things fitting for that royal time? + +DERBY: +It is, and wants but nomination. + +BISHOP OF ELY: +To-morrow, then, I judge a happy day. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Who knows the lord protector's mind herein? +Who is most inward with the royal duke? + +BISHOP OF ELY: +Your grace, we think, should soonest know his mind. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Who, I, my lord I we know each other's faces, +But for our hearts, he knows no more of mine, +Than I of yours; +Nor I no more of his, than you of mine. +Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love. + +HASTINGS: +I thank his grace, I know he loves me well; +But, for his purpose in the coronation. +I have not sounded him, nor he deliver'd +His gracious pleasure any way therein: +But you, my noble lords, may name the time; +And in the duke's behalf I'll give my voice, +Which, I presume, he'll take in gentle part. + +BISHOP OF ELY: +Now in good time, here comes the duke himself. + +GLOUCESTER: +My noble lords and cousins all, good morrow. +I have been long a sleeper; but, I hope, +My absence doth neglect no great designs, +Which by my presence might have been concluded. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Had not you come upon your cue, my lord +William Lord Hastings had pronounced your part,-- +I mean, your voice,--for crowning of the king. + +GLOUCESTER: +Than my Lord Hastings no man might be bolder; +His lordship knows me well, and loves me well. + +HASTINGS: +I thank your grace. + +GLOUCESTER: +My lord of Ely! + +BISHOP OF ELY: +My lord? + +GLOUCESTER: +When I was last in Holborn, +I saw good strawberries in your garden there +I do beseech you send for some of them. + +BISHOP OF ELY: +Marry, and will, my lord, with all my heart. + +GLOUCESTER: +Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you. +Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business, +And finds the testy gentleman so hot, +As he will lose his head ere give consent +His master's son, as worshipful as he terms it, +Shall lose the royalty of England's throne. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Withdraw you hence, my lord, I'll follow you. + +DERBY: +We have not yet set down this day of triumph. +To-morrow, in mine opinion, is too sudden; +For I myself am not so well provided +As else I would be, were the day prolong'd. + +BISHOP OF ELY: +Where is my lord protector? I have sent for these +strawberries. + +HASTINGS: +His grace looks cheerfully and smooth to-day; +There's some conceit or other likes him well, +When he doth bid good morrow with such a spirit. +I think there's never a man in Christendom +That can less hide his love or hate than he; +For by his face straight shall you know his heart. + +DERBY: +What of his heart perceive you in his face +By any likelihood he show'd to-day? + +HASTINGS: +Marry, that with no man here he is offended; +For, were he, he had shown it in his looks. + +DERBY: +I pray God he be not, I say. + +GLOUCESTER: +I pray you all, tell me what they deserve +That do conspire my death with devilish plots +Of damned witchcraft, and that have prevail'd +Upon my body with their hellish charms? + +HASTINGS: +The tender love I bear your grace, my lord, +Makes me most forward in this noble presence +To doom the offenders, whatsoever they be +I say, my lord, they have deserved death. + +GLOUCESTER: +Then be your eyes the witness of this ill: +See how I am bewitch'd; behold mine arm +Is, like a blasted sapling, wither'd up: +And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch, +Consorted with that harlot strumpet Shore, +That by their witchcraft thus have marked me. + +HASTINGS: +If they have done this thing, my gracious lord-- + +GLOUCESTER: +If I thou protector of this damned strumpet-- +Tellest thou me of 'ifs'? Thou art a traitor: +Off with his head! Now, by Saint Paul I swear, +I will not dine until I see the same. +Lovel and Ratcliff, look that it be done: +The rest, that love me, rise and follow me. + +HASTINGS: +Woe, woe for England! not a whit for me; +For I, too fond, might have prevented this. +Stanley did dream the boar did raze his helm; +But I disdain'd it, and did scorn to fly: +Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble, +And startled, when he look'd upon the Tower, +As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house. +O, now I want the priest that spake to me: +I now repent I told the pursuivant +As 'twere triumphing at mine enemies, +How they at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd, +And I myself secure in grace and favour. +O Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse +Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head! + +RATCLIFF: +Dispatch, my lord; the duke would be at dinner: +Make a short shrift; he longs to see your head. + +HASTINGS: +O momentary grace of mortal men, +Which we more hunt for than the grace of God! +Who builds his hopes in air of your good looks, +Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast, +Ready, with every nod, to tumble down +Into the fatal bowels of the deep. + +LOVEL: +Come, come, dispatch; 'tis bootless to exclaim. + +HASTINGS: +O bloody Richard! miserable England! +I prophesy the fearful'st time to thee +That ever wretched age hath look'd upon. +Come, lead me to the block; bear him my head. +They smile at me that shortly shall be dead. + +GLOUCESTER: +Come, cousin, canst thou quake, and change thy colour, +Murder thy breath in the middle of a word, +And then begin again, and stop again, +As if thou wert distraught and mad with terror? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Tut, I can counterfeit the deep tragedian; +Speak and look back, and pry on every side, +Tremble and start at wagging of a straw, +Intending deep suspicion: ghastly looks +Are at my service, like enforced smiles; +And both are ready in their offices, +At any time, to grace my stratagems. +But what, is Catesby gone? + +GLOUCESTER: +He is; and, see, he brings the mayor along. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Lord mayor,-- + +GLOUCESTER: +Look to the drawbridge there! + +BUCKINGHAM: +Hark! a drum. + +GLOUCESTER: +Catesby, o'erlook the walls. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Lord mayor, the reason we have sent-- + +GLOUCESTER: +Look back, defend thee, here are enemies. + +BUCKINGHAM: +God and our innocency defend and guard us! + +GLOUCESTER: +Be patient, they are friends, Ratcliff and Lovel. + +LOVEL: +Here is the head of that ignoble traitor, +The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings. + +GLOUCESTER: +So dear I loved the man, that I must weep. +I took him for the plainest harmless creature +That breathed upon this earth a Christian; +Made him my book wherein my soul recorded +The history of all her secret thoughts: +So smooth he daub'd his vice with show of virtue, +That, his apparent open guilt omitted, +I mean, his conversation with Shore's wife, +He lived from all attainder of suspect. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Well, well, he was the covert'st shelter'd traitor +That ever lived. +Would you imagine, or almost believe, +Were't not that, by great preservation, +We live to tell it you, the subtle traitor +This day had plotted, in the council-house +To murder me and my good Lord of Gloucester? + +Lord Mayor: +What, had he so? + +GLOUCESTER: +What, think You we are Turks or infidels? +Or that we would, against the form of law, +Proceed thus rashly to the villain's death, +But that the extreme peril of the case, +The peace of England and our persons' safety, +Enforced us to this execution? + +Lord Mayor: +Now, fair befall you! he deserved his death; +And you my good lords, both have well proceeded, +To warn false traitors from the like attempts. +I never look'd for better at his hands, +After he once fell in with Mistress Shore. + +GLOUCESTER: +Yet had not we determined he should die, +Until your lordship came to see his death; +Which now the loving haste of these our friends, +Somewhat against our meaning, have prevented: +Because, my lord, we would have had you heard +The traitor speak, and timorously confess +The manner and the purpose of his treason; +That you might well have signified the same +Unto the citizens, who haply may +Misconstrue us in him and wail his death. + +Lord Mayor: +But, my good lord, your grace's word shall serve, +As well as I had seen and heard him speak +And doubt you not, right noble princes both, +But I'll acquaint our duteous citizens +With all your just proceedings in this cause. + +GLOUCESTER: +And to that end we wish'd your lord-ship here, +To avoid the carping censures of the world. + +BUCKINGHAM: +But since you come too late of our intents, +Yet witness what you hear we did intend: +And so, my good lord mayor, we bid farewell. + +GLOUCESTER: +Go, after, after, cousin Buckingham. +The mayor towards Guildhall hies him in all post: +There, at your meet'st advantage of the time, +Infer the bastardy of Edward's children: +Tell them how Edward put to death a citizen, +Only for saying he would make his son +Heir to the crown; meaning indeed his house, +Which, by the sign thereof was termed so. +Moreover, urge his hateful luxury +And bestial appetite in change of lust; +Which stretched to their servants, daughters, wives, +Even where his lustful eye or savage heart, +Without control, listed to make his prey. +Nay, for a need, thus far come near my person: +Tell them, when that my mother went with child +Of that unsatiate Edward, noble York +My princely father then had wars in France +And, by just computation of the time, +Found that the issue was not his begot; +Which well appeared in his lineaments, +Being nothing like the noble duke my father: +But touch this sparingly, as 'twere far off, +Because you know, my lord, my mother lives. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Fear not, my lord, I'll play the orator +As if the golden fee for which I plead +Were for myself: and so, my lord, adieu. + +GLOUCESTER: +If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard's Castle; +Where you shall find me well accompanied +With reverend fathers and well-learned bishops. + +BUCKINGHAM: +I go: and towards three or four o'clock +Look for the news that the Guildhall affords. + +GLOUCESTER: +Go, Lovel, with all speed to Doctor Shaw; +Go thou to Friar Penker; bid them both +Meet me within this hour at Baynard's Castle. +Now will I in, to take some privy order, +To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight; +And to give notice, that no manner of person +At any time have recourse unto the princes. + +Scrivener: +This is the indictment of the good Lord Hastings; +Which in a set hand fairly is engross'd, +That it may be this day read over in Paul's. +And mark how well the sequel hangs together: +Eleven hours I spent to write it over, +For yesternight by Catesby was it brought me; +The precedent was full as long a-doing: +And yet within these five hours lived Lord Hastings, +Untainted, unexamined, free, at liberty +Here's a good world the while! Why who's so gross, +That seeth not this palpable device? +Yet who's so blind, but says he sees it not? +Bad is the world; and all will come to nought, +When such bad dealings must be seen in thought. + +GLOUCESTER: +How now, my lord, what say the citizens? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Now, by the holy mother of our Lord, +The citizens are mum and speak not a word. + +GLOUCESTER: +Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's children? + +BUCKINGHAM: +I did; with his contract with Lady Lucy, +And his contract by deputy in France; +The insatiate greediness of his desires, +And his enforcement of the city wives; +His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy, +As being got, your father then in France, +His resemblance, being not like the duke; +Withal I did infer your lineaments, +Being the right idea of your father, +Both in your form and nobleness of mind; +Laid open all your victories in Scotland, +Your dicipline in war, wisdom in peace, +Your bounty, virtue, fair humility: +Indeed, left nothing fitting for the purpose +Untouch'd, or slightly handled, in discourse +And when mine oratory grew to an end +I bid them that did love their country's good +Cry 'God save Richard, England's royal king!' + +GLOUCESTER: +Ah! and did they so? + +BUCKINGHAM: +No, so God help me, they spake not a word; +But, like dumb statues or breathing stones, +Gazed each on other, and look'd deadly pale. +Which when I saw, I reprehended them; +And ask'd the mayor what meant this wilful silence: +His answer was, the people were not wont +To be spoke to but by the recorder. +Then he was urged to tell my tale again, +'Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke inferr'd;' +But nothing spake in warrant from himself. +When he had done, some followers of mine own, +At the lower end of the hall, hurl'd up their caps, +And some ten voices cried 'God save King Richard!' +And thus I took the vantage of those few, +'Thanks, gentle citizens and friends,' quoth I; +'This general applause and loving shout +Argues your wisdoms and your love to Richard:' +And even here brake off, and came away. + +GLOUCESTER: +What tongueless blocks were they! would not they speak? + +BUCKINGHAM: +No, by my troth, my lord. + +GLOUCESTER: +Will not the mayor then and his brethren come? + +BUCKINGHAM: +The mayor is here at hand: intend some fear; +Be not you spoke with, but by mighty suit: +And look you get a prayer-book in your hand, +And stand betwixt two churchmen, good my lord; +For on that ground I'll build a holy descant: +And be not easily won to our request: +Play the maid's part, still answer nay, and take it. + +GLOUCESTER: +I go; and if you plead as well for them +As I can say nay to thee for myself, +No doubt well bring it to a happy issue. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Go, go, up to the leads; the lord mayor knocks. +Welcome my lord; I dance attendance here; +I think the duke will not be spoke withal. +Here comes his servant: how now, Catesby, +What says he? + +CATESBY: +My lord: he doth entreat your grace; +To visit him to-morrow or next day: +He is within, with two right reverend fathers, +Divinely bent to meditation; +And no worldly suit would he be moved, +To draw him from his holy exercise. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Return, good Catesby, to thy lord again; +Tell him, myself, the mayor and citizens, +In deep designs and matters of great moment, +No less importing than our general good, +Are come to have some conference with his grace. + +CATESBY: +I'll tell him what you say, my lord. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward! +He is not lolling on a lewd day-bed, +But on his knees at meditation; +Not dallying with a brace of courtezans, +But meditating with two deep divines; +Not sleeping, to engross his idle body, +But praying, to enrich his watchful soul: +Happy were England, would this gracious prince +Take on himself the sovereignty thereof: +But, sure, I fear, we shall ne'er win him to it. + +Lord Mayor: +Marry, God forbid his grace should say us nay! + +BUCKINGHAM: +I fear he will. +How now, Catesby, what says your lord? + +CATESBY: +My lord, +He wonders to what end you have assembled +Such troops of citizens to speak with him, +His grace not being warn'd thereof before: +My lord, he fears you mean no good to him. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Sorry I am my noble cousin should +Suspect me, that I mean no good to him: +By heaven, I come in perfect love to him; +And so once more return and tell his grace. +When holy and devout religious men +Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence, +So sweet is zealous contemplation. + +Lord Mayor: +See, where he stands between two clergymen! + +BUCKINGHAM: +Two props of virtue for a Christian prince, +To stay him from the fall of vanity: +And, see, a book of prayer in his hand, +True ornaments to know a holy man. +Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince, +Lend favourable ears to our request; +And pardon us the interruption +Of thy devotion and right Christian zeal. + +GLOUCESTER: +My lord, there needs no such apology: +I rather do beseech you pardon me, +Who, earnest in the service of my God, +Neglect the visitation of my friends. +But, leaving this, what is your grace's pleasure? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God above, +And all good men of this ungovern'd isle. + +GLOUCESTER: +I do suspect I have done some offence +That seems disgracious in the city's eyes, +And that you come to reprehend my ignorance. + +BUCKINGHAM: +You have, my lord: would it might please your grace, +At our entreaties, to amend that fault! + +GLOUCESTER: +Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Then know, it is your fault that you resign +The supreme seat, the throne majestical, +The scepter'd office of your ancestors, +Your state of fortune and your due of birth, +The lineal glory of your royal house, +To the corruption of a blemished stock: +Whilst, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts, +Which here we waken to our country's good, +This noble isle doth want her proper limbs; +Her face defaced with scars of infamy, +Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants, +And almost shoulder'd in the swallowing gulf +Of blind forgetfulness and dark oblivion. +Which to recure, we heartily solicit +Your gracious self to take on you the charge +And kingly government of this your land, +Not as protector, steward, substitute, +Or lowly factor for another's gain; +But as successively from blood to blood, +Your right of birth, your empery, your own. +For this, consorted with the citizens, +Your very worshipful and loving friends, +And by their vehement instigation, +In this just suit come I to move your grace. + +GLOUCESTER: +I know not whether to depart in silence, +Or bitterly to speak in your reproof. +Best fitteth my degree or your condition +If not to answer, you might haply think +Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded +To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty, +Which fondly you would here impose on me; +If to reprove you for this suit of yours, +So season'd with your faithful love to me. +Then, on the other side, I cheque'd my friends. +Therefore, to speak, and to avoid the first, +And then, in speaking, not to incur the last, +Definitively thus I answer you. +Your love deserves my thanks; but my desert +Unmeritable shuns your high request. +First if all obstacles were cut away, +And that my path were even to the crown, +As my ripe revenue and due by birth +Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, +So mighty and so many my defects, +As I had rather hide me from my greatness, +Being a bark to brook no mighty sea, +Than in my greatness covet to be hid, +And in the vapour of my glory smother'd. +But, God be thank'd, there's no need of me, +And much I need to help you, if need were; +The royal tree hath left us royal fruit, +Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time, +Will well become the seat of majesty, +And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign. +On him I lay what you would lay on me, +The right and fortune of his happy stars; +Which God defend that I should wring from him! + +BUCKINGHAM: +My lord, this argues conscience in your grace; +But the respects thereof are nice and trivial, +All circumstances well considered. +You say that Edward is your brother's son: +So say we too, but not by Edward's wife; +For first he was contract to Lady Lucy-- +Your mother lives a witness to that vow-- +And afterward by substitute betroth'd +To Bona, sister to the King of France. +These both put by a poor petitioner, +A care-crazed mother of a many children, +A beauty-waning and distressed widow, +Even in the afternoon of her best days, +Made prize and purchase of his lustful eye, +Seduced the pitch and height of all his thoughts +To base declension and loathed bigamy +By her, in his unlawful bed, he got +This Edward, whom our manners term the prince. +More bitterly could I expostulate, +Save that, for reverence to some alive, +I give a sparing limit to my tongue. +Then, good my lord, take to your royal self +This proffer'd benefit of dignity; +If non to bless us and the land withal, +Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry +From the corruption of abusing times, +Unto a lineal true-derived course. + +Lord Mayor: +Do, good my lord, your citizens entreat you. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love. + +CATESBY: +O, make them joyful, grant their lawful suit! + +GLOUCESTER: +Alas, why would you heap these cares on me? +I am unfit for state and majesty; +I do beseech you, take it not amiss; +I cannot nor I will not yield to you. + +BUCKINGHAM: +If you refuse it,--as, in love and zeal, +Loath to depose the child, Your brother's son; +As well we know your tenderness of heart +And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse, +Which we have noted in you to your kin, +And egally indeed to all estates,-- +Yet whether you accept our suit or no, +Your brother's son shall never reign our king; +But we will plant some other in the throne, +To the disgrace and downfall of your house: +And in this resolution here we leave you.-- +Come, citizens: 'zounds! I'll entreat no more. + +GLOUCESTER: +O, do not swear, my lord of Buckingham. + +CATESBY: +Call them again, my lord, and accept their suit. + +ANOTHER: +Do, good my lord, lest all the land do rue it. + +GLOUCESTER: +Would you enforce me to a world of care? +Well, call them again. I am not made of stone, +But penetrable to your. kind entreats, +Albeit against my conscience and my soul. +Cousin of Buckingham, and you sage, grave men, +Since you will buckle fortune on my back, +To bear her burthen, whether I will or no, +I must have patience to endure the load: +But if black scandal or foul-faced reproach +Attend the sequel of your imposition, +Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me +From all the impure blots and stains thereof; +For God he knows, and you may partly see, +How far I am from the desire thereof. + +Lord Mayor: +God bless your grace! we see it, and will say it. + +GLOUCESTER: +In saying so, you shall but say the truth. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Then I salute you with this kingly title: +Long live Richard, England's royal king! + +Lord Mayor: +Amen. + +BUCKINGHAM: +To-morrow will it please you to be crown'd? + +GLOUCESTER: +Even when you please, since you will have it so. + +BUCKINGHAM: +To-morrow, then, we will attend your grace: +And so most joyfully we take our leave. + +GLOUCESTER: +Come, let us to our holy task again. +Farewell, good cousin; farewell, gentle friends. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Who meets us here? my niece Plantagenet +Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloucester? +Now, for my life, she's wandering to the Tower, +On pure heart's love to greet the tender princes. +Daughter, well met. + +LADY ANNE: +God give your graces both +A happy and a joyful time of day! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +As much to you, good sister! Whither away? + +LADY ANNE: +No farther than the Tower; and, as I guess, +Upon the like devotion as yourselves, +To gratulate the gentle princes there. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Kind sister, thanks: we'll enter all together. +And, in good time, here the lieutenant comes. +Master lieutenant, pray you, by your leave, +How doth the prince, and my young son of York? + +BRAKENBURY: +Right well, dear madam. By your patience, +I may not suffer you to visit them; +The king hath straitly charged the contrary. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +The king! why, who's that? + +BRAKENBURY: +I cry you mercy: I mean the lord protector. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +The Lord protect him from that kingly title! +Hath he set bounds betwixt their love and me? +I am their mother; who should keep me from them? + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +I am their fathers mother; I will see them. + +LADY ANNE: +Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother: +Then bring me to their sights; I'll bear thy blame +And take thy office from thee, on my peril. + +BRAKENBURY: +No, madam, no; I may not leave it so: +I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me. + +LORD STANLEY: +Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence, +And I'll salute your grace of York as mother, +And reverend looker on, of two fair queens. +Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster, +There to be crowned Richard's royal queen. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +O, cut my lace in sunder, that my pent heart +May have some scope to beat, or else I swoon +With this dead-killing news! + +LADY ANNE: +Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news! + +DORSET: +Be of good cheer: mother, how fares your grace? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee hence! +Death and destruction dog thee at the heels; +Thy mother's name is ominous to children. +If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas, +And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell +Go, hie thee, hie thee from this slaughter-house, +Lest thou increase the number of the dead; +And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse, +Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen. + +LORD STANLEY: +Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam. +Take all the swift advantage of the hours; +You shall have letters from me to my son +To meet you on the way, and welcome you. +Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +O ill-dispersing wind of misery! +O my accursed womb, the bed of death! +A cockatrice hast thou hatch'd to the world, +Whose unavoided eye is murderous. + +LORD STANLEY: +Come, madam, come; I in all haste was sent. + +LADY ANNE: +And I in all unwillingness will go. +I would to God that the inclusive verge +Of golden metal that must round my brow +Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain! +Anointed let me be with deadly venom, +And die, ere men can say, God save the queen! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory +To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm. + +LADY ANNE: +No! why? When he that is my husband now +Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse, +When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his hands +Which issued from my other angel husband +And that dead saint which then I weeping follow'd; +O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face, +This was my wish: 'Be thou,' quoth I, ' accursed, +For making me, so young, so old a widow! +And, when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed; +And be thy wife--if any be so mad-- +As miserable by the life of thee +As thou hast made me by my dear lord's death! +Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again, +Even in so short a space, my woman's heart +Grossly grew captive to his honey words +And proved the subject of my own soul's curse, +Which ever since hath kept my eyes from rest; +For never yet one hour in his bed +Have I enjoy'd the golden dew of sleep, +But have been waked by his timorous dreams. +Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick; +And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Poor heart, adieu! I pity thy complaining. + +LADY ANNE: +No more than from my soul I mourn for yours. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory! + +LADY ANNE: +Adieu, poor soul, that takest thy leave of it! + +DUCHESS OF YORK: + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Stay, yet look back with me unto the Tower. +Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes +Whom envy hath immured within your walls! +Rough cradle for such little pretty ones! +Rude ragged nurse, old sullen playfellow +For tender princes, use my babies well! +So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell. + +KING RICHARD III: +Stand all apart Cousin of Buckingham! + +BUCKINGHAM: +My gracious sovereign? + +KING RICHARD III: +Give me thy hand. +Thus high, by thy advice +And thy assistance, is King Richard seated; +But shall we wear these honours for a day? +Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Still live they and for ever may they last! + +KING RICHARD III: +O Buckingham, now do I play the touch, +To try if thou be current gold indeed +Young Edward lives: think now what I would say. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Say on, my loving lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +Why, Buckingham, I say, I would be king, + +BUCKINGHAM: +Why, so you are, my thrice renowned liege. + +KING RICHARD III: +Ha! am I king? 'tis so: but Edward lives. + +BUCKINGHAM: +True, noble prince. + +KING RICHARD III: +O bitter consequence, +That Edward still should live! 'True, noble prince!' +Cousin, thou wert not wont to be so dull: +Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead; +And I would have it suddenly perform'd. +What sayest thou? speak suddenly; be brief. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Your grace may do your pleasure. + +KING RICHARD III: +Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness freezeth: +Say, have I thy consent that they shall die? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Give me some breath, some little pause, my lord +Before I positively herein: +I will resolve your grace immediately. + +CATESBY: + +KING RICHARD III: +I will converse with iron-witted fools +And unrespective boys: none are for me +That look into me with considerate eyes: +High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect. +Boy! + +Page: +My lord? + +KING RICHARD III: +Know'st thou not any whom corrupting gold +Would tempt unto a close exploit of death? + +Page: +My lord, I know a discontented gentleman, +Whose humble means match not his haughty mind: +Gold were as good as twenty orators, +And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing. + +KING RICHARD III: +What is his name? + +Page: +His name, my lord, is Tyrrel. + +KING RICHARD III: +I partly know the man: go, call him hither. +The deep-revolving witty Buckingham +No more shall be the neighbour to my counsel: +Hath he so long held out with me untired, +And stops he now for breath? +How now! what news with you? + +STANLEY: +My lord, I hear the Marquis Dorset's fled +To Richmond, in those parts beyond the sea +Where he abides. + +KING RICHARD III: +Catesby! + +CATESBY: +My lord? + +KING RICHARD III: +Rumour it abroad +That Anne, my wife, is sick and like to die: +I will take order for her keeping close. +Inquire me out some mean-born gentleman, +Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter: +The boy is foolish, and I fear not him. +Look, how thou dream'st! I say again, give out +That Anne my wife is sick and like to die: +About it; for it stands me much upon, +To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me. +I must be married to my brother's daughter, +Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass. +Murder her brothers, and then marry her! +Uncertain way of gain! But I am in +So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin: +Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye. +Is thy name Tyrrel? + +TYRREL: +James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject. + +KING RICHARD III: +Art thou, indeed? + +TYRREL: +Prove me, my gracious sovereign. + +KING RICHARD III: +Darest thou resolve to kill a friend of mine? + +TYRREL: +Ay, my lord; +But I had rather kill two enemies. + +KING RICHARD III: +Why, there thou hast it: two deep enemies, +Foes to my rest and my sweet sleep's disturbers +Are they that I would have thee deal upon: +Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower. + +TYRREL: +Let me have open means to come to them, +And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them. + +KING RICHARD III: +Thou sing'st sweet music. Hark, come hither, Tyrrel +Go, by this token: rise, and lend thine ear: +There is no more but so: say it is done, +And I will love thee, and prefer thee too. + +TYRREL: +'Tis done, my gracious lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +Shall we hear from thee, Tyrrel, ere we sleep? + +TYRREL: +Ye shall, my Lord. + +BUCKINGHAM: +My Lord, I have consider'd in my mind +The late demand that you did sound me in. + +KING RICHARD III: +Well, let that pass. Dorset is fled to Richmond. + +BUCKINGHAM: +I hear that news, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +Stanley, he is your wife's son well, look to it. + +BUCKINGHAM: +My lord, I claim your gift, my due by promise, +For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd; +The earldom of Hereford and the moveables +The which you promised I should possess. + +KING RICHARD III: +Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey +Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it. + +BUCKINGHAM: +What says your highness to my just demand? + +KING RICHARD III: +As I remember, Henry the Sixth +Did prophesy that Richmond should be king, +When Richmond was a little peevish boy. +A king, perhaps, perhaps,-- + +BUCKINGHAM: +My lord! + +KING RICHARD III: +How chance the prophet could not at that time +Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him? + +BUCKINGHAM: +My lord, your promise for the earldom,-- + +KING RICHARD III: +Richmond! When last I was at Exeter, +The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle, +And call'd it Rougemont: at which name I started, +Because a bard of Ireland told me once +I should not live long after I saw Richmond. + +BUCKINGHAM: +My Lord! + +KING RICHARD III: +Ay, what's o'clock? + +BUCKINGHAM: +I am thus bold to put your grace in mind +Of what you promised me. + +KING RICHARD III: +Well, but what's o'clock? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Upon the stroke of ten. + +KING RICHARD III: +Well, let it strike. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Why let it strike? + +KING RICHARD III: +Because that, like a Jack, thou keep'st the stroke +Betwixt thy begging and my meditation. +I am not in the giving vein to-day. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Why, then resolve me whether you will or no. + +KING RICHARD III: +Tut, tut, +Thou troublest me; am not in the vein. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Is it even so? rewards he my true service +With such deep contempt made I him king for this? +O, let me think on Hastings, and be gone +To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on! + +TYRREL: +The tyrannous and bloody deed is done. +The most arch of piteous massacre +That ever yet this land was guilty of. +Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn +To do this ruthless piece of butchery, +Although they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs, +Melting with tenderness and kind compassion +Wept like two children in their deaths' sad stories. +'Lo, thus' quoth Dighton, 'lay those tender babes:' +'Thus, thus,' quoth Forrest, 'girdling one another +Within their innocent alabaster arms: +Their lips were four red roses on a stalk, +Which in their summer beauty kiss'd each other. +A book of prayers on their pillow lay; +Which once,' quoth Forrest, 'almost changed my mind; +But O! the devil'--there the villain stopp'd +Whilst Dighton thus told on: 'We smothered +The most replenished sweet work of nature, +That from the prime creation e'er she framed.' +Thus both are gone with conscience and remorse; +They could not speak; and so I left them both, +To bring this tidings to the bloody king. +And here he comes. +All hail, my sovereign liege! + +KING RICHARD III: +Kind Tyrrel, am I happy in thy news? + +TYRREL: +If to have done the thing you gave in charge +Beget your happiness, be happy then, +For it is done, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +But didst thou see them dead? + +TYRREL: +I did, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +And buried, gentle Tyrrel? + +TYRREL: +The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them; +But how or in what place I do not know. + +KING RICHARD III: +Come to me, Tyrrel, soon at after supper, +And thou shalt tell the process of their death. +Meantime, but think how I may do thee good, +And be inheritor of thy desire. +Farewell till soon. +The son of Clarence have I pent up close; +His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage; +The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom, +And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night. +Now, for I know the Breton Richmond aims +At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter, +And, by that knot, looks proudly o'er the crown, +To her I go, a jolly thriving wooer. + +CATESBY: +My lord! + +KING RICHARD III: +Good news or bad, that thou comest in so bluntly? + +CATESBY: +Bad news, my lord: Ely is fled to Richmond; +And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen, +Is in the field, and still his power increaseth. + +KING RICHARD III: +Ely with Richmond troubles me more near +Than Buckingham and his rash-levied army. +Come, I have heard that fearful commenting +Is leaden servitor to dull delay; +Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary +Then fiery expedition be my wing, +Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king! +Come, muster men: my counsel is my shield; +We must be brief when traitors brave the field. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +So, now prosperity begins to mellow +And drop into the rotten mouth of death. +Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd, +To watch the waning of mine adversaries. +A dire induction am I witness to, +And will to France, hoping the consequence +Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical. +Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret: who comes here? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Ah, my young princes! ah, my tender babes! +My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets! +If yet your gentle souls fly in the air +And be not fix'd in doom perpetual, +Hover about me with your airy wings +And hear your mother's lamentation! + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Hover about her; say, that right for right +Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +So many miseries have crazed my voice, +That my woe-wearied tongue is mute and dumb, +Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead? + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet. +Edward for Edward pays a dying debt. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle lambs, +And throw them in the entrails of the wolf? +When didst thou sleep when such a deed was done? + +QUEEN MARGARET: +When holy Harry died, and my sweet son. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Blind sight, dead life, poor mortal living ghost, +Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life usurp'd, +Brief abstract and record of tedious days, +Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth, +Unlawfully made drunk with innocents' blood! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +O, that thou wouldst as well afford a grave +As thou canst yield a melancholy seat! +Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here. +O, who hath any cause to mourn but I? + +QUEEN MARGARET: +If ancient sorrow be most reverend, +Give mine the benefit of seniory, +And let my woes frown on the upper hand. +If sorrow can admit society, +Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine: +I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him; +I had a Harry, till a Richard kill'd him: +Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him; +Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard killed him; + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him; +I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard kill'd him. +From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept +A hell-hound that doth hunt us all to death: +That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes, +To worry lambs and lap their gentle blood, +That foul defacer of God's handiwork, +That excellent grand tyrant of the earth, +That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls, +Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves. +O upright, just, and true-disposing God, +How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur +Preys on the issue of his mother's body, +And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan! + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +O Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes! +God witness with me, I have wept for thine. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Bear with me; I am hungry for revenge, +And now I cloy me with beholding it. +Thy Edward he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward: +Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward; +Young York he is but boot, because both they +Match not the high perfection of my loss: +Thy Clarence he is dead that kill'd my Edward; +And the beholders of this tragic play, +The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey, +Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves. +Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer, +Only reserved their factor, to buy souls +And send them thither: but at hand, at hand, +Ensues his piteous and unpitied end: +Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray. +To have him suddenly convey'd away. +Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I prey, +That I may live to say, The dog is dead! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +O, thou didst prophesy the time would come +That I should wish for thee to help me curse +That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad! + +QUEEN MARGARET: +I call'd thee then vain flourish of my fortune; +I call'd thee then poor shadow, painted queen; +The presentation of but what I was; +The flattering index of a direful pageant; +One heaved a-high, to be hurl'd down below; +A mother only mock'd with two sweet babes; +A dream of what thou wert, a breath, a bubble, +A sign of dignity, a garish flag, +To be the aim of every dangerous shot, +A queen in jest, only to fill the scene. +Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers? +Where are thy children? wherein dost thou, joy? +Who sues to thee and cries 'God save the queen'? +Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee? +Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee? +Decline all this, and see what now thou art: +For happy wife, a most distressed widow; +For joyful mother, one that wails the name; +For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care; +For one being sued to, one that humbly sues; +For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me; +For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one; +For one commanding all, obey'd of none. +Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about, +And left thee but a very prey to time; +Having no more but thought of what thou wert, +To torture thee the more, being what thou art. +Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not +Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow? +Now thy proud neck bears half my burthen'd yoke; +From which even here I slip my weary neck, +And leave the burthen of it all on thee. +Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mischance: +These English woes will make me smile in France. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +O thou well skill'd in curses, stay awhile, +And teach me how to curse mine enemies! + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Forbear to sleep the nights, and fast the days; +Compare dead happiness with living woe; +Think that thy babes were fairer than they were, +And he that slew them fouler than he is: +Bettering thy loss makes the bad causer worse: +Revolving this will teach thee how to curse. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +My words are dull; O, quicken them with thine! + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Why should calamity be full of words? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Windy attorneys to their client woes, +Airy succeeders of intestate joys, +Poor breathing orators of miseries! +Let them have scope: though what they do impart +Help not all, yet do they ease the heart. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +If so, then be not tongue-tied: go with me. +And in the breath of bitter words let's smother +My damned son, which thy two sweet sons smother'd. +I hear his drum: be copious in exclaims. + +KING RICHARD III: +Who intercepts my expedition? + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +O, she that might have intercepted thee, +By strangling thee in her accursed womb +From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Hidest thou that forehead with a golden crown, +Where should be graven, if that right were right, +The slaughter of the prince that owed that crown, +And the dire death of my two sons and brothers? +Tell me, thou villain slave, where are my children? + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence? +And little Ned Plantagenet, his son? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Where is kind Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey? + +KING RICHARD III: +A flourish, trumpets! strike alarum, drums! +Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women +Rail on the Lord's enointed: strike, I say! +Either be patient, and entreat me fair, +Or with the clamorous report of war +Thus will I drown your exclamations. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Art thou my son? + +KING RICHARD III: +Ay, I thank God, my father, and yourself. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Then patiently hear my impatience. + +KING RICHARD III: +Madam, I have a touch of your condition, +Which cannot brook the accent of reproof. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +O, let me speak! + +KING RICHARD III: +Do then: but I'll not hear. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +I will be mild and gentle in my speech. + +KING RICHARD III: +And brief, good mother; for I am in haste. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Art thou so hasty? I have stay'd for thee, +God knows, in anguish, pain and agony. + +KING RICHARD III: +And came I not at last to comfort you? + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well, +Thou camest on earth to make the earth my hell. +A grievous burthen was thy birth to me; +Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy; +Thy school-days frightful, desperate, wild, and furious, +Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous, +Thy age confirm'd, proud, subdued, bloody, +treacherous, +More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred: +What comfortable hour canst thou name, +That ever graced me in thy company? + +KING RICHARD III: +Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, that call'd +your grace +To breakfast once forth of my company. +If I be so disgracious in your sight, +Let me march on, and not offend your grace. +Strike the drum. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +I prithee, hear me speak. + +KING RICHARD III: +You speak too bitterly. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Hear me a word; +For I shall never speak to thee again. + +KING RICHARD III: +So. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordinance, +Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror, +Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish +And never look upon thy face again. +Therefore take with thee my most heavy curse; +Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more +Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st! +My prayers on the adverse party fight; +And there the little souls of Edward's children +Whisper the spirits of thine enemies +And promise them success and victory. +Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end; +Shame serves thy life and doth thy death attend. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse +Abides in me; I say amen to all. + +KING RICHARD III: +Stay, madam; I must speak a word with you. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +I have no more sons of the royal blood +For thee to murder: for my daughters, Richard, +They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens; +And therefore level not to hit their lives. + +KING RICHARD III: +You have a daughter call'd Elizabeth, +Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +And must she die for this? O, let her live, +And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty; +Slander myself as false to Edward's bed; +Throw over her the veil of infamy: +So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter, +I will confess she was not Edward's daughter. + +KING RICHARD III: +Wrong not her birth, she is of royal blood. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +To save her life, I'll say she is not so. + +KING RICHARD III: +Her life is only safest in her birth. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +And only in that safety died her brothers. + +KING RICHARD III: +Lo, at their births good stars were opposite. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +No, to their lives bad friends were contrary. + +KING RICHARD III: +All unavoided is the doom of destiny. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +True, when avoided grace makes destiny: +My babes were destined to a fairer death, +If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life. + +KING RICHARD III: +You speak as if that I had slain my cousins. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle cozen'd +Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life. +Whose hand soever lanced their tender hearts, +Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction: +No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt +Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart, +To revel in the entrails of my lambs. +But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame, +My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys +Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes; +And I, in such a desperate bay of death, +Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft, +Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom. + +KING RICHARD III: +Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise +And dangerous success of bloody wars, +As I intend more good to you and yours, +Than ever you or yours were by me wrong'd! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +What good is cover'd with the face of heaven, +To be discover'd, that can do me good? + +KING RICHARD III: +The advancement of your children, gentle lady. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads? + +KING RICHARD III: +No, to the dignity and height of honour +The high imperial type of this earth's glory. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Flatter my sorrows with report of it; +Tell me what state, what dignity, what honour, +Canst thou demise to any child of mine? + +KING RICHARD III: +Even all I have; yea, and myself and all, +Will I withal endow a child of thine; +So in the Lethe of thy angry soul +Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs +Which thou supposest I have done to thee. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Be brief, lest that be process of thy kindness +Last longer telling than thy kindness' date. + +KING RICHARD III: +Then know, that from my soul I love thy daughter. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +My daughter's mother thinks it with her soul. + +KING RICHARD III: +What do you think? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +That thou dost love my daughter from thy soul: +So from thy soul's love didst thou love her brothers; +And from my heart's love I do thank thee for it. + +KING RICHARD III: +Be not so hasty to confound my meaning: +I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter, +And mean to make her queen of England. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Say then, who dost thou mean shall be her king? + +KING RICHARD III: +Even he that makes her queen who should be else? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +What, thou? + +KING RICHARD III: +I, even I: what think you of it, madam? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +How canst thou woo her? + +KING RICHARD III: +That would I learn of you, +As one that are best acquainted with her humour. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +And wilt thou learn of me? + +KING RICHARD III: +Madam, with all my heart. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Send to her, by the man that slew her brothers, +A pair of bleeding-hearts; thereon engrave +Edward and York; then haply she will weep: +Therefore present to her--as sometime Margaret +Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood,-- +A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain +The purple sap from her sweet brother's body +And bid her dry her weeping eyes therewith. +If this inducement force her not to love, +Send her a story of thy noble acts; +Tell her thou madest away her uncle Clarence, +Her uncle Rivers; yea, and, for her sake, +Madest quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne. + +KING RICHARD III: +Come, come, you mock me; this is not the way +To win our daughter. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +There is no other way +Unless thou couldst put on some other shape, +And not be Richard that hath done all this. + +KING RICHARD III: +Say that I did all this for love of her. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Nay, then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee, +Having bought love with such a bloody spoil. + +KING RICHARD III: +Look, what is done cannot be now amended: +Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes, +Which after hours give leisure to repent. +If I did take the kingdom from your sons, +To make amends, Ill give it to your daughter. +If I have kill'd the issue of your womb, +To quicken your increase, I will beget +Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter +A grandam's name is little less in love +Than is the doting title of a mother; +They are as children but one step below, +Even of your mettle, of your very blood; +Of an one pain, save for a night of groans +Endured of her, for whom you bid like sorrow. +Your children were vexation to your youth, +But mine shall be a comfort to your age. +The loss you have is but a son being king, +And by that loss your daughter is made queen. +I cannot make you what amends I would, +Therefore accept such kindness as I can. +Dorset your son, that with a fearful soul +Leads discontented steps in foreign soil, +This fair alliance quickly shall call home +To high promotions and great dignity: +The king, that calls your beauteous daughter wife. +Familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother; +Again shall you be mother to a king, +And all the ruins of distressful times +Repair'd with double riches of content. +What! we have many goodly days to see: +The liquid drops of tears that you have shed +Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl, +Advantaging their loan with interest +Of ten times double gain of happiness. +Go, then my mother, to thy daughter go +Make bold her bashful years with your experience; +Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale +Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame +Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the princess +With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys +And when this arm of mine hath chastised +The petty rebel, dull-brain'd Buckingham, +Bound with triumphant garlands will I come +And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed; +To whom I will retail my conquest won, +And she shall be sole victress, Caesar's Caesar. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +What were I best to say? her father's brother +Would be her lord? or shall I say, her uncle? +Or, he that slew her brothers and her uncles? +Under what title shall I woo for thee, +That God, the law, my honour and her love, +Can make seem pleasing to her tender years? + +KING RICHARD III: +Infer fair England's peace by this alliance. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Which she shall purchase with still lasting war. + +KING RICHARD III: +Say that the king, which may command, entreats. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +That at her hands which the king's King forbids. + +KING RICHARD III: +Say, she shall be a high and mighty queen. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +To wail the tide, as her mother doth. + +KING RICHARD III: +Say, I will love her everlastingly. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +But how long shall that title 'ever' last? + +KING RICHARD III: +Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +But how long fairly shall her sweet lie last? + +KING RICHARD III: +So long as heaven and nature lengthens it. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +So long as hell and Richard likes of it. + +KING RICHARD III: +Say, I, her sovereign, am her subject love. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +But she, your subject, loathes such sovereignty. + +KING RICHARD III: +Be eloquent in my behalf to her. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +An honest tale speeds best being plainly told. + +KING RICHARD III: +Then in plain terms tell her my loving tale. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Plain and not honest is too harsh a style. + +KING RICHARD III: +Your reasons are too shallow and too quick. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +O no, my reasons are too deep and dead; +Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their grave. + +KING RICHARD III: +Harp not on that string, madam; that is past. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Harp on it still shall I till heart-strings break. + +KING RICHARD III: +Now, by my George, my garter, and my crown,-- + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Profaned, dishonour'd, and the third usurp'd. + +KING RICHARD III: +I swear-- + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +By nothing; for this is no oath: +The George, profaned, hath lost his holy honour; +The garter, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly virtue; +The crown, usurp'd, disgraced his kingly glory. +if something thou wilt swear to be believed, +Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd. + +KING RICHARD III: +Now, by the world-- + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +'Tis full of thy foul wrongs. + +KING RICHARD III: +My father's death-- + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Thy life hath that dishonour'd. + +KING RICHARD III: +Then, by myself-- + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Thyself thyself misusest. + +KING RICHARD III: +Why then, by God-- + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +God's wrong is most of all. +If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him, +The unity the king thy brother made +Had not been broken, nor my brother slain: +If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him, +The imperial metal, circling now thy brow, +Had graced the tender temples of my child, +And both the princes had been breathing here, +Which now, two tender playfellows to dust, +Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms. +What canst thou swear by now? + +KING RICHARD III: +The time to come. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +That thou hast wronged in the time o'erpast; +For I myself have many tears to wash +Hereafter time, for time past wrong'd by thee. +The children live, whose parents thou hast +slaughter'd, +Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age; +The parents live, whose children thou hast butcher'd, +Old wither'd plants, to wail it with their age. +Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast +Misused ere used, by time misused o'erpast. + +KING RICHARD III: +As I intend to prosper and repent, +So thrive I in my dangerous attempt +Of hostile arms! myself myself confound! +Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours! +Day, yield me not thy light; nor, night, thy rest! +Be opposite all planets of good luck +To my proceedings, if, with pure heart's love, +Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts, +I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter! +In her consists my happiness and thine; +Without her, follows to this land and me, +To thee, herself, and many a Christian soul, +Death, desolation, ruin and decay: +It cannot be avoided but by this; +It will not be avoided but by this. +Therefore, good mother,--I must can you so-- +Be the attorney of my love to her: +Plead what I will be, not what I have been; +Not my deserts, but what I will deserve: +Urge the necessity and state of times, +And be not peevish-fond in great designs. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Shall I be tempted of the devil thus? + +KING RICHARD III: +Ay, if the devil tempt thee to do good. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Shall I forget myself to be myself? + +KING RICHARD III: +Ay, if yourself's remembrance wrong yourself. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +But thou didst kill my children. + +KING RICHARD III: +But in your daughter's womb I bury them: +Where in that nest of spicery they shall breed +Selves of themselves, to your recomforture. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Shall I go win my daughter to thy will? + +KING RICHARD III: +And be a happy mother by the deed. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +I go. Write to me very shortly. +And you shall understand from me her mind. + +KING RICHARD III: +Bear her my true love's kiss; and so, farewell. +Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman! +How now! what news? + +RATCLIFF: +My gracious sovereign, on the western coast +Rideth a puissant navy; to the shore +Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends, +Unarm'd, and unresolved to beat them back: +'Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral; +And there they hull, expecting but the aid +Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore. + +KING RICHARD III: +Some light-foot friend post to the Duke of Norfolk: +Ratcliff, thyself, or Catesby; where is he? + +CATESBY: +Here, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +Fly to the duke: +Post thou to Salisbury +When thou comest thither-- +Dull, unmindful villain, +Why stand'st thou still, and go'st not to the duke? + +CATESBY: +First, mighty sovereign, let me know your mind, +What from your grace I shall deliver to him. + +KING RICHARD III: +O, true, good Catesby: bid him levy straight +The greatest strength and power he can make, +And meet me presently at Salisbury. + +CATESBY: +I go. + +RATCLIFF: +What is't your highness' pleasure I shall do at +Salisbury? + +KING RICHARD III: +Why, what wouldst thou do there before I go? + +RATCLIFF: +Your highness told me I should post before. + +KING RICHARD III: +My mind is changed, sir, my mind is changed. +How now, what news with you? + +STANLEY: +None good, my lord, to please you with the hearing; +Nor none so bad, but it may well be told. + +KING RICHARD III: +Hoyday, a riddle! neither good nor bad! +Why dost thou run so many mile about, +When thou mayst tell thy tale a nearer way? +Once more, what news? + +STANLEY: +Richmond is on the seas. + +KING RICHARD III: +There let him sink, and be the seas on him! +White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there? + +STANLEY: +I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess. + +KING RICHARD III: +Well, sir, as you guess, as you guess? + +STANLEY: +Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Ely, +He makes for England, there to claim the crown. + +KING RICHARD III: +Is the chair empty? is the sword unsway'd? +Is the king dead? the empire unpossess'd? +What heir of York is there alive but we? +And who is England's king but great York's heir? +Then, tell me, what doth he upon the sea? + +STANLEY: +Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess. + +KING RICHARD III: +Unless for that he comes to be your liege, +You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes. +Thou wilt revolt, and fly to him, I fear. + +STANLEY: +No, mighty liege; therefore mistrust me not. + +KING RICHARD III: +Where is thy power, then, to beat him back? +Where are thy tenants and thy followers? +Are they not now upon the western shore. +Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships! + +STANLEY: +No, my good lord, my friends are in the north. + +KING RICHARD III: +Cold friends to Richard: what do they in the north, +When they should serve their sovereign in the west? + +STANLEY: +They have not been commanded, mighty sovereign: +Please it your majesty to give me leave, +I'll muster up my friends, and meet your grace +Where and what time your majesty shall please. + +KING RICHARD III: +Ay, ay. thou wouldst be gone to join with Richmond: +I will not trust you, sir. + +STANLEY: +Most mighty sovereign, +You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful: +I never was nor never will be false. + +KING RICHARD III: +Well, +Go muster men; but, hear you, leave behind +Your son, George Stanley: look your faith be firm. +Or else his head's assurance is but frail. + +STANLEY: +So deal with him as I prove true to you. + +Messenger: +My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire, +As I by friends am well advertised, +Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty prelate +Bishop of Exeter, his brother there, +With many more confederates, are in arms. + +Second Messenger: +My liege, in Kent the Guildfords are in arms; +And every hour more competitors +Flock to their aid, and still their power increaseth. + +Third Messenger: +My lord, the army of the Duke of Buckingham-- + +KING RICHARD III: +Out on you, owls! nothing but songs of death? +Take that, until thou bring me better news. + +Third Messenger: +The news I have to tell your majesty +Is, that by sudden floods and fall of waters, +Buckingham's army is dispersed and scatter'd; +And he himself wander'd away alone, +No man knows whither. + +KING RICHARD III: +I cry thee mercy: +There is my purse to cure that blow of thine. +Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd +Reward to him that brings the traitor in? + +Third Messenger: +Such proclamation hath been made, my liege. + +Fourth Messenger: +Sir Thomas Lovel and Lord Marquis Dorset, +'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms. +Yet this good comfort bring I to your grace, +The Breton navy is dispersed by tempest: +Richmond, in Yorkshire, sent out a boat +Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks +If they were his assistants, yea or no; +Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham. +Upon his party: he, mistrusting them, +Hoisted sail and made away for Brittany. + +KING RICHARD III: +March on, march on, since we are up in arms; +If not to fight with foreign enemies, +Yet to beat down these rebels here at home. + +CATESBY: +My liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken; +That is the best news: that the Earl of Richmond +Is with a mighty power landed at Milford, +Is colder tidings, yet they must be told. + +KING RICHARD III: +Away towards Salisbury! while we reason here, +A royal battle might be won and lost +Some one take order Buckingham be brought +To Salisbury; the rest march on with me. + +DERBY: +Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me: +That in the sty of this most bloody boar +My son George Stanley is frank'd up in hold: +If I revolt, off goes young George's head; +The fear of that withholds my present aid. +But, tell me, where is princely Richmond now? + +CHRISTOPHER: +At Pembroke, or at Harford-west, in Wales. + +DERBY: +What men of name resort to him? + +CHRISTOPHER: +Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier; +Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley; +Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt, +And Rice ap Thomas with a valiant crew; +And many more of noble fame and worth: +And towards London they do bend their course, +If by the way they be not fought withal. + +DERBY: +Return unto thy lord; commend me to him: +Tell him the queen hath heartily consented +He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter. +These letters will resolve him of my mind. Farewell. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Will not King Richard let me speak with him? + +Sheriff: +No, my good lord; therefore be patient. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Hastings, and Edward's children, Rivers, Grey, +Holy King Henry, and thy fair son Edward, +Vaughan, and all that have miscarried +By underhand corrupted foul injustice, +If that your moody discontented souls +Do through the clouds behold this present hour, +Even for revenge mock my destruction! +This is All-Souls' day, fellows, is it not? + +Sheriff: +It is, my lord. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Why, then All-Souls' day is my body's doomsday. +This is the day that, in King Edward's time, +I wish't might fall on me, when I was found +False to his children or his wife's allies +This is the day wherein I wish'd to fall +By the false faith of him I trusted most; +This, this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul +Is the determined respite of my wrongs: +That high All-Seer that I dallied with +Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head +And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest. +Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men +To turn their own points on their masters' bosoms: +Now Margaret's curse is fallen upon my head; +'When he,' quoth she, 'shall split thy heart with sorrow, +Remember Margaret was a prophetess.' +Come, sirs, convey me to the block of shame; +Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame. + +RICHMOND: +Fellows in arms, and my most loving friends, +Bruised underneath the yoke of tyranny, +Thus far into the bowels of the land +Have we march'd on without impediment; +And here receive we from our father Stanley +Lines of fair comfort and encouragement. +The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar, +That spoil'd your summer fields and fruitful vines, +Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his trough +In your embowell'd bosoms, this foul swine +Lies now even in the centre of this isle, +Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn +From Tamworth thither is but one day's march. +In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends, +To reap the harvest of perpetual peace +By this one bloody trial of sharp war. + +OXFORD: +Every man's conscience is a thousand swords, +To fight against that bloody homicide. + +HERBERT: +I doubt not but his friends will fly to us. + +BLUNT: +He hath no friends but who are friends for fear. +Which in his greatest need will shrink from him. + +RICHMOND: +All for our vantage. Then, in God's name, march: +True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings: +Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. + +KING RICHARD III: +Here pitch our tents, even here in Bosworth field. +My Lord of Surrey, why look you so sad? + +SURREY: +My heart is ten times lighter than my looks. + +KING RICHARD III: +My Lord of Norfolk,-- + +NORFOLK: +Here, most gracious liege. + +KING RICHARD III: +Norfolk, we must have knocks; ha! must we not? + +NORFOLK: +We must both give and take, my gracious lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +Up with my tent there! here will I lie tonight; +But where to-morrow? Well, all's one for that. +Who hath descried the number of the foe? + +NORFOLK: +Six or seven thousand is their utmost power. + +KING RICHARD III: +Why, our battalion trebles that account: +Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength, +Which they upon the adverse party want. +Up with my tent there! Valiant gentlemen, +Let us survey the vantage of the field +Call for some men of sound direction +Let's want no discipline, make no delay, +For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day. + +RICHMOND: +The weary sun hath made a golden set, +And by the bright track of his fiery car, +Gives signal, of a goodly day to-morrow. +Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard. +Give me some ink and paper in my tent +I'll draw the form and model of our battle, +Limit each leader to his several charge, +And part in just proportion our small strength. +My Lord of Oxford, you, Sir William Brandon, +And you, Sir Walter Herbert, stay with me. +The Earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment: +Good Captain Blunt, bear my good night to him +And by the second hour in the morning +Desire the earl to see me in my tent: +Yet one thing more, good Blunt, before thou go'st, +Where is Lord Stanley quarter'd, dost thou know? + +BLUNT: +Unless I have mista'en his colours much, +Which well I am assured I have not done, +His regiment lies half a mile at least +South from the mighty power of the king. + +RICHMOND: +If without peril it be possible, +Good Captain Blunt, bear my good-night to him, +And give him from me this most needful scroll. + +BLUNT: +Upon my life, my lord, I'll under-take it; +And so, God give you quiet rest to-night! + +RICHMOND: +Good night, good Captain Blunt. Come gentlemen, +Let us consult upon to-morrow's business +In to our tent; the air is raw and cold. + +KING RICHARD III: +What is't o'clock? + +CATESBY: +It's supper-time, my lord; +It's nine o'clock. + +KING RICHARD III: +I will not sup to-night. +Give me some ink and paper. +What, is my beaver easier than it was? +And all my armour laid into my tent? + +CATESBY: +If is, my liege; and all things are in readiness. + +KING RICHARD III: +Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge; +Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels. + +NORFOLK: +I go, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle Norfolk. + +NORFOLK: +I warrant you, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +Catesby! + +CATESBY: +My lord? + +KING RICHARD III: +Send out a pursuivant at arms +To Stanley's regiment; bid him bring his power +Before sunrising, lest his son George fall +Into the blind cave of eternal night. +Fill me a bowl of wine. Give me a watch. +Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow. +Look that my staves be sound, and not too heavy. +Ratcliff! + +RATCLIFF: +My lord? + +KING RICHARD III: +Saw'st thou the melancholy Lord Northumberland? + +RATCLIFF: +Thomas the Earl of Surrey, and himself, +Much about cock-shut time, from troop to troop +Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers. + +KING RICHARD III: +So, I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of wine: +I have not that alacrity of spirit, +Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have. +Set it down. Is ink and paper ready? + +RATCLIFF: +It is, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +Bid my guard watch; leave me. +Ratcliff, about the mid of night come to my tent +And help to arm me. Leave me, I say. + +DERBY: +Fortune and victory sit on thy helm! + +RICHMOND: +All comfort that the dark night can afford +Be to thy person, noble father-in-law! +Tell me, how fares our loving mother? + +DERBY: +I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother +Who prays continually for Richmond's good: +So much for that. The silent hours steal on, +And flaky darkness breaks within the east. +In brief,--for so the season bids us be,-- +Prepare thy battle early in the morning, +And put thy fortune to the arbitrement +Of bloody strokes and mortal-staring war. +I, as I may--that which I would I cannot,-- +With best advantage will deceive the time, +And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms: +But on thy side I may not be too forward +Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George, +Be executed in his father's sight. +Farewell: the leisure and the fearful time +Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love +And ample interchange of sweet discourse, +Which so long sunder'd friends should dwell upon: +God give us leisure for these rites of love! +Once more, adieu: be valiant, and speed well! + +RICHMOND: +Good lords, conduct him to his regiment: +I'll strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap, +Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow, +When I should mount with wings of victory: +Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen. +O Thou, whose captain I account myself, +Look on my forces with a gracious eye; +Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath, +That they may crush down with a heavy fall +The usurping helmets of our adversaries! +Make us thy ministers of chastisement, +That we may praise thee in the victory! +To thee I do commend my watchful soul, +Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes: +Sleeping and waking, O, defend me still! + +Ghost of Prince Edward: + +Ghost of King Henry VI: + +Ghost of CLARENCE: + +Ghost of RIVERS: + +Ghost of GREY: + +Ghost of VAUGHAN: + +All: + +Ghost of HASTINGS: + +Ghosts of young Princes: + +Ghost of LADY ANNE: + +Ghost of BUCKINGHAM: + +KING RICHARD III: +Give me another horse: bind up my wounds. +Have mercy, Jesu!--Soft! I did but dream. +O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me! +The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. +Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. +What do I fear? myself? there's none else by: +Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I. +Is there a murderer here? No. Yes, I am: +Then fly. What, from myself? Great reason why: +Lest I revenge. What, myself upon myself? +Alack. I love myself. Wherefore? for any good +That I myself have done unto myself? +O, no! alas, I rather hate myself +For hateful deeds committed by myself! +I am a villain: yet I lie. I am not. +Fool, of thyself speak well: fool, do not flatter. +My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, +And every tongue brings in a several tale, +And every tale condemns me for a villain. +Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree +Murder, stem murder, in the direst degree; +All several sins, all used in each degree, +Throng to the bar, crying all, Guilty! guilty! +I shall despair. There is no creature loves me; +And if I die, no soul shall pity me: +Nay, wherefore should they, since that I myself +Find in myself no pity to myself? +Methought the souls of all that I had murder'd +Came to my tent; and every one did threat +To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard. + +RATCLIFF: +My lord! + +KING RICHARD III: +'Zounds! who is there? + +RATCLIFF: +Ratcliff, my lord; 'tis I. The early village-cock +Hath twice done salutation to the morn; +Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour. + +KING RICHARD III: +O Ratcliff, I have dream'd a fearful dream! +What thinkest thou, will our friends prove all true? + +RATCLIFF: +No doubt, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +O Ratcliff, I fear, I fear,-- + +RATCLIFF: +Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shadows. + +KING RICHARD III: +By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night +Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard +Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers +Armed in proof, and led by shallow Richmond. +It is not yet near day. Come, go with me; +Under our tents I'll play the eaves-dropper, +To see if any mean to shrink from me. + +LORDS: +Good morrow, Richmond! + +RICHMOND: +Cry mercy, lords and watchful gentlemen, +That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here. + +LORDS: +How have you slept, my lord? + +RICHMOND: +The sweetest sleep, and fairest-boding dreams +That ever enter'd in a drowsy head, +Have I since your departure had, my lords. +Methought their souls, whose bodies Richard murder'd, +Came to my tent, and cried on victory: +I promise you, my soul is very jocund +In the remembrance of so fair a dream. +How far into the morning is it, lords? + +LORDS: +Upon the stroke of four. + +RICHMOND: +Why, then 'tis time to arm and give direction. +More than I have said, loving countrymen, +The leisure and enforcement of the time +Forbids to dwell upon: yet remember this, +God and our good cause fight upon our side; +The prayers of holy saints and wronged souls, +Like high-rear'd bulwarks, stand before our faces; +Richard except, those whom we fight against +Had rather have us win than him they follow: +For what is he they follow? truly, gentlemen, +A bloody tyrant and a homicide; +One raised in blood, and one in blood establish'd; +One that made means to come by what he hath, +And slaughter'd those that were the means to help him; +Abase foul stone, made precious by the foil +Of England's chair, where he is falsely set; +One that hath ever been God's enemy: +Then, if you fight against God's enemy, +God will in justice ward you as his soldiers; +If you do sweat to put a tyrant down, +You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain; +If you do fight against your country's foes, +Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire; +If you do fight in safeguard of your wives, +Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors; +If you do free your children from the sword, +Your children's children quit it in your age. +Then, in the name of God and all these rights, +Advance your standards, draw your willing swords. +For me, the ransom of my bold attempt +Shall be this cold corpse on the earth's cold face; +But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt +The least of you shall share his part thereof. +Sound drums and trumpets boldly and cheerfully; +God and Saint George! Richmond and victory! + +KING RICHARD III: +What said Northumberland as touching Richmond? + +RATCLIFF: +That he was never trained up in arms. + +KING RICHARD III: +He said the truth: and what said Surrey then? + +RATCLIFF: +He smiled and said 'The better for our purpose.' + +KING RICHARD III: +He was in the right; and so indeed it is. +Ten the clock there. Give me a calendar. +Who saw the sun to-day? + +RATCLIFF: +Not I, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +Then he disdains to shine; for by the book +He should have braved the east an hour ago +A black day will it be to somebody. Ratcliff! + +RATCLIFF: +My lord? + +KING RICHARD III: +The sun will not be seen to-day; +The sky doth frown and lour upon our army. +I would these dewy tears were from the ground. +Not shine to-day! Why, what is that to me +More than to Richmond? for the selfsame heaven +That frowns on me looks sadly upon him. + +NORFOLK: +Arm, arm, my lord; the foe vaunts in the field. + +KING RICHARD III: +Come, bustle, bustle; caparison my horse. +Call up Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power: +I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain, +And thus my battle shall be ordered: +My foreward shall be drawn out all in length, +Consisting equally of horse and foot; +Our archers shall be placed in the midst +John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey, +Shall have the leading of this foot and horse. +They thus directed, we will follow +In the main battle, whose puissance on either side +Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse. +This, and Saint George to boot! What think'st thou, Norfolk? + +NORFOLK: +A good direction, warlike sovereign. +This found I on my tent this morning. + +KING RICHARD III: + +Messenger: +My lord, he doth deny to come. + +KING RICHARD III: +Off with his son George's head! + +NORFOLK: +My lord, the enemy is past the marsh +After the battle let George Stanley die. + +KING RICHARD III: +A thousand hearts are great within my bosom: +Advance our standards, set upon our foes +Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, +Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons! +Upon them! victory sits on our helms. + +CATESBY: +Rescue, my Lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue! +The king enacts more wonders than a man, +Daring an opposite to every danger: +His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights, +Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death. +Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost! + +KING RICHARD III: +A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse! + +CATESBY: +Withdraw, my lord; I'll help you to a horse. + +KING RICHARD III: +Slave, I have set my life upon a cast, +And I will stand the hazard of the die: +I think there be six Richmonds in the field; +Five have I slain to-day instead of him. +A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse! + +RICHMOND: +God and your arms be praised, victorious friends, +The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead. + +DERBY: +Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee. +Lo, here, this long-usurped royalty +From the dead temples of this bloody wretch +Have I pluck'd off, to grace thy brows withal: +Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it. + +RICHMOND: +Great God of heaven, say Amen to all! +But, tell me, is young George Stanley living? + +DERBY: +He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town; +Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw us. + +RICHMOND: +What men of name are slain on either side? + +DERBY: +John Duke of Norfolk, Walter Lord Ferrers, +Sir Robert Brakenbury, and Sir William Brandon. + +RICHMOND: +Inter their bodies as becomes their births: +Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled +That in submission will return to us: +And then, as we have ta'en the sacrament, +We will unite the white rose and the red: +Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction, +That long have frown'd upon their enmity! +What traitor hears me, and says not amen? +England hath long been mad, and scarr'd herself; +The brother blindly shed the brother's blood, +The father rashly slaughter'd his own son, +The son, compell'd, been butcher to the sire: +All this divided York and Lancaster, +Divided in their dire division, +O, now, let Richmond and Elizabeth, +The true succeeders of each royal house, +By God's fair ordinance conjoin together! +And let their heirs, God, if thy will be so. +Enrich the time to come with smooth-faced peace, +With smiling plenty and fair prosperous days! +Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, +That would reduce these bloody days again, +And make poor England weep in streams of blood! +Let them not live to taste this land's increase +That would with treason wound this fair land's peace! +Now civil wounds are stopp'd, peace lives again: +That she may long live here, God say amen! + +KING RICHARD II: +Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lancaster, +Hast thou, according to thy oath and band, +Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son, +Here to make good the boisterous late appeal, +Which then our leisure would not let us hear, +Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +I have, my liege. + +KING RICHARD II: +Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him, +If he appeal the duke on ancient malice; +Or worthily, as a good subject should, +On some known ground of treachery in him? + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +As near as I could sift him on that argument, +On some apparent danger seen in him +Aim'd at your highness, no inveterate malice. + +KING RICHARD II: +Then call them to our presence; face to face, +And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear +The accuser and the accused freely speak: +High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire, +In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Many years of happy days befal +My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege! + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +Each day still better other's happiness; +Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap, +Add an immortal title to your crown! + +KING RICHARD II: +We thank you both: yet one but flatters us, +As well appeareth by the cause you come; +Namely to appeal each other of high treason. +Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object +Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +First, heaven be the record to my speech! +In the devotion of a subject's love, +Tendering the precious safety of my prince, +And free from other misbegotten hate, +Come I appellant to this princely presence. +Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee, +And mark my greeting well; for what I speak +My body shall make good upon this earth, +Or my divine soul answer it in heaven. +Thou art a traitor and a miscreant, +Too good to be so and too bad to live, +Since the more fair and crystal is the sky, +The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly. +Once more, the more to aggravate the note, +With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat; +And wish, so please my sovereign, ere I move, +What my tongue speaks my right drawn sword may prove. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal: +'Tis not the trial of a woman's war, +The bitter clamour of two eager tongues, +Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain; +The blood is hot that must be cool'd for this: +Yet can I not of such tame patience boast +As to be hush'd and nought at all to say: +First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me +From giving reins and spurs to my free speech; +Which else would post until it had return'd +These terms of treason doubled down his throat. +Setting aside his high blood's royalty, +And let him be no kinsman to my liege, +I do defy him, and I spit at him; +Call him a slanderous coward and a villain: +Which to maintain I would allow him odds, +And meet him, were I tied to run afoot +Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps, +Or any other ground inhabitable, +Where ever Englishman durst set his foot. +Mean time let this defend my loyalty, +By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage, +Disclaiming here the kindred of the king, +And lay aside my high blood's royalty, +Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except. +If guilty dread have left thee so much strength +As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop: +By that and all the rites of knighthood else, +Will I make good against thee, arm to arm, +What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +I take it up; and by that sword I swear +Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder, +I'll answer thee in any fair degree, +Or chivalrous design of knightly trial: +And when I mount, alive may I not light, +If I be traitor or unjustly fight! + +KING RICHARD II: +What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge? +It must be great that can inherit us +So much as of a thought of ill in him. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Look, what I speak, my life shall prove it true; +That Mowbray hath received eight thousand nobles +In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers, +The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments, +Like a false traitor and injurious villain. +Besides I say and will in battle prove, +Or here or elsewhere to the furthest verge +That ever was survey'd by English eye, +That all the treasons for these eighteen years +Complotted and contrived in this land +Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring. +Further I say and further will maintain +Upon his bad life to make all this good, +That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester's death, +Suggest his soon-believing adversaries, +And consequently, like a traitor coward, +Sluiced out his innocent soul through streams of blood: +Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, +Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth, +To me for justice and rough chastisement; +And, by the glorious worth of my descent, +This arm shall do it, or this life be spent. + +KING RICHARD II: +How high a pitch his resolution soars! +Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this? + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +O, let my sovereign turn away his face +And bid his ears a little while be deaf, +Till I have told this slander of his blood, +How God and good men hate so foul a liar. + +KING RICHARD II: +Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears: +Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir, +As he is but my father's brother's son, +Now, by my sceptre's awe, I make a vow, +Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood +Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize +The unstooping firmness of my upright soul: +He is our subject, Mowbray; so art thou: +Free speech and fearless I to thee allow. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, +Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest. +Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais +Disbursed I duly to his highness' soldiers; +The other part reserved I by consent, +For that my sovereign liege was in my debt +Upon remainder of a dear account, +Since last I went to France to fetch his queen: +Now swallow down that lie. For Gloucester's death, +I slew him not; but to my own disgrace +Neglected my sworn duty in that case. +For you, my noble Lord of Lancaster, +The honourable father to my foe +Once did I lay an ambush for your life, +A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul +But ere I last received the sacrament +I did confess it, and exactly begg'd +Your grace's pardon, and I hope I had it. +This is my fault: as for the rest appeall'd, +It issues from the rancour of a villain, +A recreant and most degenerate traitor +Which in myself I boldly will defend; +And interchangeably hurl down my gage +Upon this overweening traitor's foot, +To prove myself a loyal gentleman +Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom. +In haste whereof, most heartily I pray +Your highness to assign our trial day. + +KING RICHARD II: +Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruled by me; +Let's purge this choler without letting blood: +This we prescribe, though no physician; +Deep malice makes too deep incision; +Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed; +Our doctors say this is no month to bleed. +Good uncle, let this end where it begun; +We'll calm the Duke of Norfolk, you your son. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +To be a make-peace shall become my age: +Throw down, my son, the Duke of Norfolk's gage. + +KING RICHARD II: +And, Norfolk, throw down his. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +When, Harry, when? +Obedience bids I should not bid again. + +KING RICHARD II: +Norfolk, throw down, we bid; there is no boot. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot. +My life thou shalt command, but not my shame: +The one my duty owes; but my fair name, +Despite of death that lives upon my grave, +To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have. +I am disgraced, impeach'd and baffled here, +Pierced to the soul with slander's venom'd spear, +The which no balm can cure but his heart-blood +Which breathed this poison. + +KING RICHARD II: +Rage must be withstood: +Give me his gage: lions make leopards tame. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +Yea, but not change his spots: take but my shame. +And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord, +The purest treasure mortal times afford +Is spotless reputation: that away, +Men are but gilded loam or painted clay. +A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest +Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast. +Mine honour is my life; both grow in one: +Take honour from me, and my life is done: +Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try; +In that I live and for that will I die. + +KING RICHARD II: +Cousin, throw up your gage; do you begin. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +O, God defend my soul from such deep sin! +Shall I seem crest-fall'n in my father's sight? +Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height +Before this out-dared dastard? Ere my tongue +Shall wound my honour with such feeble wrong, +Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear +The slavish motive of recanting fear, +And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace, +Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's face. + +KING RICHARD II: +We were not born to sue, but to command; +Which since we cannot do to make you friends, +Be ready, as your lives shall answer it, +At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert's day: +There shall your swords and lances arbitrate +The swelling difference of your settled hate: +Since we can not atone you, we shall see +Justice design the victor's chivalry. +Lord marshal, command our officers at arms +Be ready to direct these home alarms. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +Alas, the part I had in Woodstock's blood +Doth more solicit me than your exclaims, +To stir against the butchers of his life! +But since correction lieth in those hands +Which made the fault that we cannot correct, +Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven; +Who, when they see the hours ripe on earth, +Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads. + +DUCHESS: +Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur? +Hath love in thy old blood no living fire? +Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one, +Were as seven vials of his sacred blood, +Or seven fair branches springing from one root: +Some of those seven are dried by nature's course, +Some of those branches by the Destinies cut; +But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloucester, +One vial full of Edward's sacred blood, +One flourishing branch of his most royal root, +Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt, +Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded, +By envy's hand and murder's bloody axe. +Ah, Gaunt, his blood was thine! that bed, that womb, +That metal, that self-mould, that fashion'd thee +Made him a man; and though thou livest and breathest, +Yet art thou slain in him: thou dost consent +In some large measure to thy father's death, +In that thou seest thy wretched brother die, +Who was the model of thy father's life. +Call it not patience, Gaunt; it is despair: +In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd, +Thou showest the naked pathway to thy life, +Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee: +That which in mean men we intitle patience +Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts. +What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life, +The best way is to venge my Gloucester's death. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +God's is the quarrel; for God's substitute, +His deputy anointed in His sight, +Hath caused his death: the which if wrongfully, +Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift +An angry arm against His minister. + +DUCHESS: +Where then, alas, may I complain myself? + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +To God, the widow's champion and defence. + +DUCHESS: +Why, then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt. +Thou goest to Coventry, there to behold +Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight: +O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear, +That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast! +Or, if misfortune miss the first career, +Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom, +They may break his foaming courser's back, +And throw the rider headlong in the lists, +A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford! +Farewell, old Gaunt: thy sometimes brother's wife +With her companion grief must end her life. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +Sister, farewell; I must to Coventry: +As much good stay with thee as go with me! + +DUCHESS: +Yet one word more: grief boundeth where it falls, +Not with the empty hollowness, but weight: +I take my leave before I have begun, +For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done. +Commend me to thy brother, Edmund York. +Lo, this is all:--nay, yet depart not so; +Though this be all, do not so quickly go; +I shall remember more. Bid him--ah, what?-- +With all good speed at Plashy visit me. +Alack, and what shall good old York there see +But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls, +Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones? +And what hear there for welcome but my groans? +Therefore commend me; let him not come there, +To seek out sorrow that dwells every where. +Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die: +The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. + +Lord Marshal: +My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Yea, at all points; and longs to enter in. + +Lord Marshal: +The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold, +Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Why, then, the champions are prepared, and stay +For nothing but his majesty's approach. + +KING RICHARD II: +Marshal, demand of yonder champion +The cause of his arrival here in arms: +Ask him his name and orderly proceed +To swear him in the justice of his cause. + +Lord Marshal: +In God's name and the king's, say who thou art +And why thou comest thus knightly clad in arms, +Against what man thou comest, and what thy quarrel: +Speak truly, on thy knighthood and thy oath; +As so defend thee heaven and thy valour! + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk; +Who hither come engaged by my oath-- +Which God defend a knight should violate!-- +Both to defend my loyalty and truth +To God, my king and my succeeding issue, +Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me +And, by the grace of God and this mine arm, +To prove him, in defending of myself, +A traitor to my God, my king, and me: +And as I truly fight, defend me heaven! + +KING RICHARD II: +Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms, +Both who he is and why he cometh hither +Thus plated in habiliments of war, +And formally, according to our law, +Depose him in the justice of his cause. + +Lord Marshal: +What is thy name? and wherefore comest thou hither, +Before King Richard in his royal lists? +Against whom comest thou? and what's thy quarrel? +Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven! + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby +Am I; who ready here do stand in arms, +To prove, by God's grace and my body's valour, +In lists, on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, +That he is a traitor, foul and dangerous, +To God of heaven, King Richard and to me; +And as I truly fight, defend me heaven! + +Lord Marshal: +On pain of death, no person be so bold +Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists, +Except the marshal and such officers +Appointed to direct these fair designs. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Lord marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's hand, +And bow my knee before his majesty: +For Mowbray and myself are like two men +That vow a long and weary pilgrimage; +Then let us take a ceremonious leave +And loving farewell of our several friends. + +Lord Marshal: +The appellant in all duty greets your highness, +And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave. + +KING RICHARD II: +We will descend and fold him in our arms. +Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, +So be thy fortune in this royal fight! +Farewell, my blood; which if to-day thou shed, +Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +O let no noble eye profane a tear +For me, if I be gored with Mowbray's spear: +As confident as is the falcon's flight +Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight. +My loving lord, I take my leave of you; +Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle; +Not sick, although I have to do with death, +But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath. +Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet +The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet: +O thou, the earthly author of my blood, +Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate, +Doth with a twofold vigour lift me up +To reach at victory above my head, +Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers; +And with thy blessings steel my lance's point, +That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat, +And furbish new the name of John a Gaunt, +Even in the lusty havior of his son. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +God in thy good cause make thee prosperous! +Be swift like lightning in the execution; +And let thy blows, doubly redoubled, +Fall like amazing thunder on the casque +Of thy adverse pernicious enemy: +Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant and live. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Mine innocency and Saint George to thrive! + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +However God or fortune cast my lot, +There lives or dies, true to King Richard's throne, +A loyal, just and upright gentleman: +Never did captive with a freer heart +Cast off his chains of bondage and embrace +His golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement, +More than my dancing soul doth celebrate +This feast of battle with mine adversary. +Most mighty liege, and my companion peers, +Take from my mouth the wish of happy years: +As gentle and as jocund as to jest +Go I to fight: truth hath a quiet breast. + +KING RICHARD II: +Farewell, my lord: securely I espy +Virtue with valour couched in thine eye. +Order the trial, marshal, and begin. + +Lord Marshal: +Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby, +Receive thy lance; and God defend the right! + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Strong as a tower in hope, I cry amen. + +Lord Marshal: +Go bear this lance to Thomas, Duke of Norfolk. + +First Herald: +Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby, +Stands here for God, his sovereign and himself, +On pain to be found false and recreant, +To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray, +A traitor to his God, his king and him; +And dares him to set forward to the fight. + +Second Herald: +Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, +On pain to be found false and recreant, +Both to defend himself and to approve +Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, +To God, his sovereign and to him disloyal; +Courageously and with a free desire +Attending but the signal to begin. + +Lord Marshal: +Sound, trumpets; and set forward, combatants. +Stay, the king hath thrown his warder down. + +KING RICHARD II: +Let them lay by their helmets and their spears, +And both return back to their chairs again: +Withdraw with us: and let the trumpets sound +While we return these dukes what we decree. +Draw near, +And list what with our council we have done. +For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd +With that dear blood which it hath fostered; +And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect +Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours' sword; +And for we think the eagle-winged pride +Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts, +With rival-hating envy, set on you +To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle +Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep; +Which so roused up with boisterous untuned drums, +With harsh resounding trumpets' dreadful bray, +And grating shock of wrathful iron arms, +Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace +And make us wade even in our kindred's blood, +Therefore, we banish you our territories: +You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of life, +Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields +Shall not regreet our fair dominions, +But tread the stranger paths of banishment. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Your will be done: this must my comfort be, +Sun that warms you here shall shine on me; +And those his golden beams to you here lent +Shall point on me and gild my banishment. + +KING RICHARD II: +Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom, +Which I with some unwillingness pronounce: +The sly slow hours shall not determinate +The dateless limit of thy dear exile; +The hopeless word of 'never to return' +Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege, +And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth: +A dearer merit, not so deep a maim +As to be cast forth in the common air, +Have I deserved at your highness' hands. +The language I have learn'd these forty years, +My native English, now I must forego: +And now my tongue's use is to me no more +Than an unstringed viol or a harp, +Or like a cunning instrument cased up, +Or, being open, put into his hands +That knows no touch to tune the harmony: +Within my mouth you have engaol'd my tongue, +Doubly portcullis'd with my teeth and lips; +And dull unfeeling barren ignorance +Is made my gaoler to attend on me. +I am too old to fawn upon a nurse, +Too far in years to be a pupil now: +What is thy sentence then but speechless death, +Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath? + +KING RICHARD II: +It boots thee not to be compassionate: +After our sentence plaining comes too late. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +Then thus I turn me from my country's light, +To dwell in solemn shades of endless night. + +KING RICHARD II: +Return again, and take an oath with thee. +Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands; +Swear by the duty that you owe to God-- +Our part therein we banish with yourselves-- +To keep the oath that we administer: +You never shall, so help you truth and God! +Embrace each other's love in banishment; +Nor never look upon each other's face; +Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile +This louring tempest of your home-bred hate; +Nor never by advised purpose meet +To plot, contrive, or complot any ill +'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +I swear. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +And I, to keep all this. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy:-- +By this time, had the king permitted us, +One of our souls had wander'd in the air. +Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh, +As now our flesh is banish'd from this land: +Confess thy treasons ere thou fly the realm; +Since thou hast far to go, bear not along +The clogging burthen of a guilty soul. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +No, Bolingbroke: if ever I were traitor, +My name be blotted from the book of life, +And I from heaven banish'd as from hence! +But what thou art, God, thou, and I do know; +And all too soon, I fear, the king shall rue. +Farewell, my liege. Now no way can I stray; +Save back to England, all the world's my way. + +KING RICHARD II: +Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes +I see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspect +Hath from the number of his banish'd years +Pluck'd four away. +Six frozen winter spent, +Return with welcome home from banishment. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +How long a time lies in one little word! +Four lagging winters and four wanton springs +End in a word: such is the breath of kings. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +I thank my liege, that in regard of me +He shortens four years of my son's exile: +But little vantage shall I reap thereby; +For, ere the six years that he hath to spend +Can change their moons and bring their times about +My oil-dried lamp and time-bewasted light +Shall be extinct with age and endless night; +My inch of taper will be burnt and done, +And blindfold death not let me see my son. + +KING RICHARD II: +Why uncle, thou hast many years to live. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +But not a minute, king, that thou canst give: +Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow, +And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow; +Thou canst help time to furrow me with age, +But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage; +Thy word is current with him for my death, +But dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath. + +KING RICHARD II: +Thy son is banish'd upon good advice, +Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave: +Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lour? + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour. +You urged me as a judge; but I had rather +You would have bid me argue like a father. +O, had it been a stranger, not my child, +To smooth his fault I should have been more mild: +A partial slander sought I to avoid, +And in the sentence my own life destroy'd. +Alas, I look'd when some of you should say, +I was too strict to make mine own away; +But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue +Against my will to do myself this wrong. + +KING RICHARD II: +Cousin, farewell; and, uncle, bid him so: +Six years we banish him, and he shall go. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Cousin, farewell: what presence must not know, +From where you do remain let paper show. + +Lord Marshal: +My lord, no leave take I; for I will ride, +As far as land will let me, by your side. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +O, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words, +That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends? + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +I have too few to take my leave of you, +When the tongue's office should be prodigal +To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +Thy grief is but thy absence for a time. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Joy absent, grief is present for that time. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +What is six winters? they are quickly gone. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +To men in joy; but grief makes one hour ten. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +Call it a travel that thou takest for pleasure. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +My heart will sigh when I miscall it so, +Which finds it an inforced pilgrimage. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +The sullen passage of thy weary steps +Esteem as foil wherein thou art to set +The precious jewel of thy home return. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make +Will but remember me what a deal of world +I wander from the jewels that I love. +Must I not serve a long apprenticehood +To foreign passages, and in the end, +Having my freedom, boast of nothing else +But that I was a journeyman to grief? + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +All places that the eye of heaven visits +Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. +Teach thy necessity to reason thus; +There is no virtue like necessity. +Think not the king did banish thee, +But thou the king. Woe doth the heavier sit, +Where it perceives it is but faintly borne. +Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honour +And not the king exiled thee; or suppose +Devouring pestilence hangs in our air +And thou art flying to a fresher clime: +Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it +To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou comest: +Suppose the singing birds musicians, +The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strew'd, +The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more +Than a delightful measure or a dance; +For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite +The man that mocks at it and sets it light. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +O, who can hold a fire in his hand +By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? +Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite +By bare imagination of a feast? +Or wallow naked in December snow +By thinking on fantastic summer's heat? +O, no! the apprehension of the good +Gives but the greater feeling to the worse: +Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more +Than when he bites, but lanceth not the sore. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on thy way: +Had I thy youth and cause, I would not stay. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Then, England's ground, farewell; sweet soil, adieu; +My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet! +Where'er I wander, boast of this I can, +Though banish'd, yet a trueborn Englishman. + +KING RICHARD II: +We did observe. Cousin Aumerle, +How far brought you high Hereford on his way? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +I brought high Hereford, if you call him so, +But to the next highway, and there I left him. + +KING RICHARD II: +And say, what store of parting tears were shed? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Faith, none for me; except the north-east wind, +Which then blew bitterly against our faces, +Awaked the sleeping rheum, and so by chance +Did grace our hollow parting with a tear. + +KING RICHARD II: +What said our cousin when you parted with him? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +'Farewell:' +And, for my heart disdained that my tongue +Should so profane the word, that taught me craft +To counterfeit oppression of such grief +That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave. +Marry, would the word 'farewell' have lengthen'd hours +And added years to his short banishment, +He should have had a volume of farewells; +But since it would not, he had none of me. + +KING RICHARD II: +He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis doubt, +When time shall call him home from banishment, +Whether our kinsman come to see his friends. +Ourself and Bushy, Bagot here and Green +Observed his courtship to the common people; +How he did seem to dive into their hearts +With humble and familiar courtesy, +What reverence he did throw away on slaves, +Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles +And patient underbearing of his fortune, +As 'twere to banish their affects with him. +Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench; +A brace of draymen bid God speed him well +And had the tribute of his supple knee, +With 'Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends;' +As were our England in reversion his, +And he our subjects' next degree in hope. + +GREEN: +Well, he is gone; and with him go these thoughts. +Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland, +Expedient manage must be made, my liege, +Ere further leisure yield them further means +For their advantage and your highness' loss. + +KING RICHARD II: +We will ourself in person to this war: +And, for our coffers, with too great a court +And liberal largess, are grown somewhat light, +We are inforced to farm our royal realm; +The revenue whereof shall furnish us +For our affairs in hand: if that come short, +Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters; +Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich, +They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold +And send them after to supply our wants; +For we will make for Ireland presently. +Bushy, what news? + +BUSHY: +Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord, +Suddenly taken; and hath sent post haste +To entreat your majesty to visit him. + +KING RICHARD II: +Where lies he? + +BUSHY: +At Ely House. + +KING RICHARD II: +Now put it, God, in the physician's mind +To help him to his grave immediately! +The lining of his coffers shall make coats +To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars. +Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him: +Pray God we may make haste, and come too late! + +All: +Amen. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +Will the king come, that I may breathe my last +In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth? + +DUKE OF YORK: +Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath; +For all in vain comes counsel to his ear. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +O, but they say the tongues of dying men +Enforce attention like deep harmony: +Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain, +For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain. +He that no more must say is listen'd more +Than they whom youth and ease have taught to glose; +More are men's ends mark'd than their lives before: +The setting sun, and music at the close, +As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, +Writ in remembrance more than things long past: +Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear, +My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear. + +DUKE OF YORK: +No; it is stopp'd with other flattering sounds, +As praises, of whose taste the wise are fond, +Lascivious metres, to whose venom sound +The open ear of youth doth always listen; +Report of fashions in proud Italy, +Whose manners still our tardy apish nation +Limps after in base imitation. +Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity-- +So it be new, there's no respect how vile-- +That is not quickly buzzed into his ears? +Then all too late comes counsel to be heard, +Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard. +Direct not him whose way himself will choose: +'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt thou lose. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +Methinks I am a prophet new inspired +And thus expiring do foretell of him: +His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last, +For violent fires soon burn out themselves; +Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short; +He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes; +With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder: +Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, +Consuming means, soon preys upon itself. +This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, +This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, +This other Eden, demi-paradise, +This fortress built by Nature for herself +Against infection and the hand of war, +This happy breed of men, this little world, +This precious stone set in the silver sea, +Which serves it in the office of a wall, +Or as a moat defensive to a house, +Against the envy of less happier lands, +This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, +This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, +Fear'd by their breed and famous by their birth, +Renowned for their deeds as far from home, +For Christian service and true chivalry, +As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry, +Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's Son, +This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land, +Dear for her reputation through the world, +Is now leased out, I die pronouncing it, +Like to a tenement or pelting farm: +England, bound in with the triumphant sea +Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege +Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, +With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds: +That England, that was wont to conquer others, +Hath made a shameful conquest of itself. +Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life, +How happy then were my ensuing death! + +DUKE OF YORK: +The king is come: deal mildly with his youth; +For young hot colts being raged do rage the more. + +QUEEN: +How fares our noble uncle, Lancaster? + +KING RICHARD II: +What comfort, man? how is't with aged Gaunt? + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +O how that name befits my composition! +Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old: +Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast; +And who abstains from meat that is not gaunt? +For sleeping England long time have I watch'd; +Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt: +The pleasure that some fathers feed upon, +Is my strict fast; I mean, my children's looks; +And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt: +Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave, +Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones. + +KING RICHARD II: +Can sick men play so nicely with their names? + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +No, misery makes sport to mock itself: +Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me, +I mock my name, great king, to flatter thee. + +KING RICHARD II: +Should dying men flatter with those that live? + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +No, no, men living flatter those that die. + +KING RICHARD II: +Thou, now a-dying, say'st thou flatterest me. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +O, no! thou diest, though I the sicker be. + +KING RICHARD II: +I am in health, I breathe, and see thee ill. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +Now He that made me knows I see thee ill; +Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill. +Thy death-bed is no lesser than thy land +Wherein thou liest in reputation sick; +And thou, too careless patient as thou art, +Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure +Of those physicians that first wounded thee: +A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown, +Whose compass is no bigger than thy head; +And yet, incaged in so small a verge, +The waste is no whit lesser than thy land. +O, had thy grandsire with a prophet's eye +Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons, +From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame, +Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd, +Which art possess'd now to depose thyself. +Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world, +It were a shame to let this land by lease; +But for thy world enjoying but this land, +Is it not more than shame to shame it so? +Landlord of England art thou now, not king: +Thy state of law is bondslave to the law; And thou-- + +KING RICHARD II: +A lunatic lean-witted fool, +Presuming on an ague's privilege, +Darest with thy frozen admonition +Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood +With fury from his native residence. +Now, by my seat's right royal majesty, +Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son, +This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head +Should run thy head from thy unreverent shoulders. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +O, spare me not, my brother Edward's son, +For that I was his father Edward's son; +That blood already, like the pelican, +Hast thou tapp'd out and drunkenly caroused: +My brother Gloucester, plain well-meaning soul, +Whom fair befal in heaven 'mongst happy souls! +May be a precedent and witness good +That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's blood: +Join with the present sickness that I have; +And thy unkindness be like crooked age, +To crop at once a too long wither'd flower. +Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee! +These words hereafter thy tormentors be! +Convey me to my bed, then to my grave: +Love they to live that love and honour have. + +KING RICHARD II: +And let them die that age and sullens have; +For both hast thou, and both become the grave. + +DUKE OF YORK: +I do beseech your majesty, impute his words +To wayward sickliness and age in him: +He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear +As Harry Duke of Hereford, were he here. + +KING RICHARD II: +Right, you say true: as Hereford's love, so his; +As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +My liege, old Gaunt commends him to your majesty. + +KING RICHARD II: +What says he? + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Nay, nothing; all is said +His tongue is now a stringless instrument; +Words, life and all, old Lancaster hath spent. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Be York the next that must be bankrupt so! +Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe. + +KING RICHARD II: +The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he; +His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be. +So much for that. Now for our Irish wars: +We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns, +Which live like venom where no venom else +But only they have privilege to live. +And for these great affairs do ask some charge, +Towards our assistance we do seize to us +The plate, corn, revenues and moveables, +Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd. + +DUKE OF YORK: +How long shall I be patient? ah, how long +Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong? +Not Gloucester's death, nor Hereford's banishment +Not Gaunt's rebukes, nor England's private wrongs, +Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke +About his marriage, nor my own disgrace, +Have ever made me sour my patient cheek, +Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face. +I am the last of noble Edward's sons, +Of whom thy father, Prince of Wales, was first: +In war was never lion raged more fierce, +In peace was never gentle lamb more mild, +Than was that young and princely gentleman. +His face thou hast, for even so look'd he, +Accomplish'd with the number of thy hours; +But when he frown'd, it was against the French +And not against his friends; his noble hand +Did will what he did spend and spent not that +Which his triumphant father's hand had won; +His hands were guilty of no kindred blood, +But bloody with the enemies of his kin. +O Richard! York is too far gone with grief, +Or else he never would compare between. + +KING RICHARD II: +Why, uncle, what's the matter? + +DUKE OF YORK: +O my liege, +Pardon me, if you please; if not, I, pleased +Not to be pardon'd, am content withal. +Seek you to seize and gripe into your hands +The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford? +Is not Gaunt dead, and doth not Hereford live? +Was not Gaunt just, and is not Harry true? +Did not the one deserve to have an heir? +Is not his heir a well-deserving son? +Take Hereford's rights away, and take from Time +His charters and his customary rights; +Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day; +Be not thyself; for how art thou a king +But by fair sequence and succession? +Now, afore God--God forbid I say true!-- +If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights, +Call in the letters patent that he hath +By his attorneys-general to sue +His livery, and deny his offer'd homage, +You pluck a thousand dangers on your head, +You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts +And prick my tender patience, to those thoughts +Which honour and allegiance cannot think. + +KING RICHARD II: +Think what you will, we seize into our hands +His plate, his goods, his money and his lands. + +DUKE OF YORK: +I'll not be by the while: my liege, farewell: +What will ensue hereof, there's none can tell; +But by bad courses may be understood +That their events can never fall out good. + +KING RICHARD II: +Go, Bushy, to the Earl of Wiltshire straight: +Bid him repair to us to Ely House +To see this business. To-morrow next +We will for Ireland; and 'tis time, I trow: +And we create, in absence of ourself, +Our uncle York lord governor of England; +For he is just and always loved us well. +Come on, our queen: to-morrow must we part; +Be merry, for our time of stay is short + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Well, lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead. + +LORD ROSS: +And living too; for now his son is duke. + +LORD WILLOUGHBY: +Barely in title, not in revenue. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Richly in both, if justice had her right. + +LORD ROSS: +My heart is great; but it must break with silence, +Ere't be disburden'd with a liberal tongue. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Nay, speak thy mind; and let him ne'er speak more +That speaks thy words again to do thee harm! + +LORD WILLOUGHBY: +Tends that thou wouldst speak to the Duke of Hereford? +If it be so, out with it boldly, man; +Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him. + +LORD ROSS: +No good at all that I can do for him; +Unless you call it good to pity him, +Bereft and gelded of his patrimony. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Now, afore God, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne +In him, a royal prince, and many moe +Of noble blood in this declining land. +The king is not himself, but basely led +By flatterers; and what they will inform, +Merely in hate, 'gainst any of us all, +That will the king severely prosecute +'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs. + +LORD ROSS: +The commons hath he pill'd with grievous taxes, +And quite lost their hearts: the nobles hath he fined +For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts. + +LORD WILLOUGHBY: +And daily new exactions are devised, +As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what: +But what, o' God's name, doth become of this? + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Wars have not wasted it, for warr'd he hath not, +But basely yielded upon compromise +That which his noble ancestors achieved with blows: +More hath he spent in peace than they in wars. + +LORD ROSS: +The Earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm. + +LORD WILLOUGHBY: +The king's grown bankrupt, like a broken man. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him. + +LORD ROSS: +He hath not money for these Irish wars, +His burthenous taxations notwithstanding, +But by the robbing of the banish'd duke. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +His noble kinsman: most degenerate king! +But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing, +Yet see no shelter to avoid the storm; +We see the wind sit sore upon our sails, +And yet we strike not, but securely perish. + +LORD ROSS: +We see the very wreck that we must suffer; +And unavoided is the danger now, +For suffering so the causes of our wreck. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Not so; even through the hollow eyes of death +I spy life peering; but I dare not say +How near the tidings of our comfort is. + +LORD WILLOUGHBY: +Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours. + +LORD ROSS: +Be confident to speak, Northumberland: +We three are but thyself; and, speaking so, +Thy words are but as thoughts; therefore, be bold. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Then thus: I have from Port le Blanc, a bay +In Brittany, received intelligence +That Harry Duke of Hereford, Rainold Lord Cobham, +That late broke from the Duke of Exeter, +His brother, Archbishop late of Canterbury, +Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir John Ramston, +Sir John Norbery, Sir Robert Waterton and Francis Quoint, +All these well furnish'd by the Duke of Bretagne +With eight tall ships, three thousand men of war, +Are making hither with all due expedience +And shortly mean to touch our northern shore: +Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay +The first departing of the king for Ireland. +If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke, +Imp out our drooping country's broken wing, +Redeem from broking pawn the blemish'd crown, +Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre's gilt +And make high majesty look like itself, +Away with me in post to Ravenspurgh; +But if you faint, as fearing to do so, +Stay and be secret, and myself will go. + +LORD ROSS: +To horse, to horse! urge doubts to them that fear. + +LORD WILLOUGHBY: +Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. + +BUSHY: +Madam, your majesty is too much sad: +You promised, when you parted with the king, +To lay aside life-harming heaviness +And entertain a cheerful disposition. + +QUEEN: +To please the king I did; to please myself +I cannot do it; yet I know no cause +Why I should welcome such a guest as grief, +Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest +As my sweet Richard: yet again, methinks, +Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb, +Is coming towards me, and my inward soul +With nothing trembles: at some thing it grieves, +More than with parting from my lord the king. + +BUSHY: +Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows, +Which shows like grief itself, but is not so; +For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears, +Divides one thing entire to many objects; +Like perspectives, which rightly gazed upon +Show nothing but confusion, eyed awry +Distinguish form: so your sweet majesty, +Looking awry upon your lord's departure, +Find shapes of grief, more than himself, to wail; +Which, look'd on as it is, is nought but shadows +Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious queen, +More than your lord's departure weep not: more's not seen; +Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye, +Which for things true weeps things imaginary. + +QUEEN: +It may be so; but yet my inward soul +Persuades me it is otherwise: howe'er it be, +I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad +As, though on thinking on no thought I think, +Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. + +BUSHY: +'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady. + +QUEEN: +'Tis nothing less: conceit is still derived +From some forefather grief; mine is not so, +For nothing had begot my something grief; +Or something hath the nothing that I grieve: +'Tis in reversion that I do possess; +But what it is, that is not yet known; what +I cannot name; 'tis nameless woe, I wot. + +GREEN: +God save your majesty! and well met, gentlemen: +I hope the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland. + +QUEEN: +Why hopest thou so? 'tis better hope he is; +For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope: +Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipp'd? + +GREEN: +That he, our hope, might have retired his power, +And driven into despair an enemy's hope, +Who strongly hath set footing in this land: +The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself, +And with uplifted arms is safe arrived +At Ravenspurgh. + +QUEEN: +Now God in heaven forbid! + +GREEN: +Ah, madam, 'tis too true: and that is worse, +The Lord Northumberland, his son young Henry Percy, +The Lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby, +With all their powerful friends, are fled to him. + +BUSHY: +Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland +And all the rest revolted faction traitors? + +GREEN: +We have: whereupon the Earl of Worcester +Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship, +And all the household servants fled with him +To Bolingbroke. + +QUEEN: +So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe, +And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir: +Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy, +And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother, +Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd. + +BUSHY: +Despair not, madam. + +QUEEN: +Who shall hinder me? +I will despair, and be at enmity +With cozening hope: he is a flatterer, +A parasite, a keeper back of death, +Who gently would dissolve the bands of life, +Which false hope lingers in extremity. + +GREEN: +Here comes the Duke of York. + +QUEEN: +With signs of war about his aged neck: +O, full of careful business are his looks! +Uncle, for God's sake, speak comfortable words. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts: +Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth, +Where nothing lives but crosses, cares and grief. +Your husband, he is gone to save far off, +Whilst others come to make him lose at home: +Here am I left to underprop his land, +Who, weak with age, cannot support myself: +Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made; +Now shall he try his friends that flatter'd him. + +Servant: +My lord, your son was gone before I came. + +DUKE OF YORK: +He was? Why, so! go all which way it will! +The nobles they are fled, the commons they are cold, +And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side. +Sirrah, get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloucester; +Bid her send me presently a thousand pound: +Hold, take my ring. + +Servant: +My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship, +To-day, as I came by, I called there; +But I shall grieve you to report the rest. + +DUKE OF YORK: +What is't, knave? + +Servant: +An hour before I came, the duchess died. + +DUKE OF YORK: +God for his mercy! what a tide of woes +Comes rushing on this woeful land at once! +I know not what to do: I would to God, +So my untruth had not provoked him to it, +The king had cut off my head with my brother's. +What, are there no posts dispatch'd for Ireland? +How shall we do for money for these wars? +Come, sister,--cousin, I would say--pray, pardon me. +Go, fellow, get thee home, provide some carts +And bring away the armour that is there. +Gentlemen, will you go muster men? +If I know how or which way to order these affairs +Thus thrust disorderly into my hands, +Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen: +The one is my sovereign, whom both my oath +And duty bids defend; the other again +Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd, +Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right. +Well, somewhat we must do. Come, cousin, I'll +Dispose of you. +Gentlemen, go, muster up your men, +And meet me presently at Berkeley. +I should to Plashy too; +But time will not permit: all is uneven, +And every thing is left at six and seven. + +BUSHY: +The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland, +But none returns. For us to levy power +Proportionable to the enemy +Is all unpossible. + +GREEN: +Besides, our nearness to the king in love +Is near the hate of those love not the king. + +BAGOT: +And that's the wavering commons: for their love +Lies in their purses, and whoso empties them +By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate. + +BUSHY: +Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd. + +BAGOT: +If judgement lie in them, then so do we, +Because we ever have been near the king. + +GREEN: +Well, I will for refuge straight to Bristol castle: +The Earl of Wiltshire is already there. + +BUSHY: +Thither will I with you; for little office +The hateful commons will perform for us, +Except like curs to tear us all to pieces. +Will you go along with us? + +BAGOT: +No; I will to Ireland to his majesty. +Farewell: if heart's presages be not vain, +We three here art that ne'er shall meet again. + +BUSHY: +That's as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke. + +GREEN: +Alas, poor duke! the task he undertakes +Is numbering sands and drinking oceans dry: +Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly. +Farewell at once, for once, for all, and ever. + +BUSHY: +Well, we may meet again. + +BAGOT: +I fear me, never. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +How far is it, my lord, to Berkeley now? + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Believe me, noble lord, +I am a stranger here in Gloucestershire: +These high wild hills and rough uneven ways +Draws out our miles, and makes them wearisome, +And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar, +Making the hard way sweet and delectable. +But I bethink me what a weary way +From Ravenspurgh to Cotswold will be found +In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company, +Which, I protest, hath very much beguiled +The tediousness and process of my travel: +But theirs is sweetened with the hope to have +The present benefit which I possess; +And hope to joy is little less in joy +Than hope enjoy'd: by this the weary lords +Shall make their way seem short, as mine hath done +By sight of what I have, your noble company. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Of much less value is my company +Than your good words. But who comes here? + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +It is my son, young Harry Percy, +Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever. +Harry, how fares your uncle? + +HENRY PERCY: +I had thought, my lord, to have learn'd his health of you. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Why, is he not with the queen? + +HENRY PERCY: +No, my good Lord; he hath forsook the court, +Broken his staff of office and dispersed +The household of the king. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +What was his reason? +He was not so resolved when last we spake together. + +HENRY PERCY: +Because your lordship was proclaimed traitor. +But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurgh, +To offer service to the Duke of Hereford, +And sent me over by Berkeley, to discover +What power the Duke of York had levied there; +Then with directions to repair to Ravenspurgh. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Have you forgot the Duke of Hereford, boy? + +HENRY PERCY: +No, my good lord, for that is not forgot +Which ne'er I did remember: to my knowledge, +I never in my life did look on him. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Then learn to know him now; this is the duke. + +HENRY PERCY: +My gracious lord, I tender you my service, +Such as it is, being tender, raw and young: +Which elder days shall ripen and confirm +To more approved service and desert. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure +I count myself in nothing else so happy +As in a soul remembering my good friends; +And, as my fortune ripens with thy love, +It shall be still thy true love's recompense: +My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals it. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +How far is it to Berkeley? and what stir +Keeps good old York there with his men of war? + +HENRY PERCY: +There stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees, +Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard; +And in it are the Lords of York, Berkeley, and Seymour; +None else of name and noble estimate. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Here come the Lords of Ross and Willoughby, +Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Welcome, my lords. I wot your love pursues +A banish'd traitor: all my treasury +Is yet but unfelt thanks, which more enrich'd +Shall be your love and labour's recompense. + +LORD ROSS: +Your presence makes us rich, most noble lord. + +LORD WILLOUGHBY: +And far surmounts our labour to attain it. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor; +Which, till my infant fortune comes to years, +Stands for my bounty. But who comes here? + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +It is my Lord of Berkeley, as I guess. + +LORD BERKELEY: +My Lord of Hereford, my message is to you. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +My lord, my answer is--to Lancaster; +And I am come to seek that name in England; +And I must find that title in your tongue, +Before I make reply to aught you say. + +LORD BERKELEY: +Mistake me not, my lord; 'tis not my meaning +To raze one title of your honour out: +To you, my lord, I come, what lord you will, +From the most gracious regent of this land, +The Duke of York, to know what pricks you on +To take advantage of the absent time +And fright our native peace with self-born arms. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +I shall not need transport my words by you; +Here comes his grace in person. My noble uncle! + +DUKE OF YORK: +Show me thy humble heart, and not thy knee, +Whose duty is deceiveable and false. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +My gracious uncle-- + +DUKE OF YORK: +Tut, tut! +Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle: +I am no traitor's uncle; and that word 'grace.' +In an ungracious mouth is but profane. +Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs +Dared once to touch a dust of England's ground? +But then more 'why?' why have they dared to march +So many miles upon her peaceful bosom, +Frighting her pale-faced villages with war +And ostentation of despised arms? +Comest thou because the anointed king is hence? +Why, foolish boy, the king is left behind, +And in my loyal bosom lies his power. +Were I but now the lord of such hot youth +As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself +Rescued the Black Prince, that young Mars of men, +From forth the ranks of many thousand French, +O, then how quickly should this arm of mine. +Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee +And minister correction to thy fault! + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +My gracious uncle, let me know my fault: +On what condition stands it and wherein? + +DUKE OF YORK: +Even in condition of the worst degree, +In gross rebellion and detested treason: +Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come +Before the expiration of thy time, +In braving arms against thy sovereign. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Hereford; +But as I come, I come for Lancaster. +And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace +Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye: +You are my father, for methinks in you +I see old Gaunt alive; O, then, my father, +Will you permit that I shall stand condemn'd +A wandering vagabond; my rights and royalties +Pluck'd from my arms perforce and given away +To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born? +If that my cousin king be King of England, +It must be granted I am Duke of Lancaster. +You have a son, Aumerle, my noble cousin; +Had you first died, and he been thus trod down, +He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father, +To rouse his wrongs and chase them to the bay. +I am denied to sue my livery here, +And yet my letters-patents give me leave: +My father's goods are all distrain'd and sold, +And these and all are all amiss employ'd. +What would you have me do? I am a subject, +And I challenge law: attorneys are denied me; +And therefore, personally I lay my claim +To my inheritance of free descent. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +The noble duke hath been too much abused. + +LORD ROSS: +It stands your grace upon to do him right. + +LORD WILLOUGHBY: +Base men by his endowments are made great. + +DUKE OF YORK: +My lords of England, let me tell you this: +I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs +And laboured all I could to do him right; +But in this kind to come, in braving arms, +Be his own carver and cut out his way, +To find out right with wrong, it may not be; +And you that do abet him in this kind +Cherish rebellion and are rebels all. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +The noble duke hath sworn his coming is +But for his own; and for the right of that +We all have strongly sworn to give him aid; +And let him ne'er see joy that breaks that oath! + +DUKE OF YORK: +Well, well, I see the issue of these arms: +I cannot mend it, I must needs confess, +Because my power is weak and all ill left: +But if I could, by Him that gave me life, +I would attach you all and make you stoop +Unto the sovereign mercy of the king; +But since I cannot, be it known to you +I do remain as neuter. So, fare you well; +Unless you please to enter in the castle +And there repose you for this night. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +An offer, uncle, that we will accept: +But we must win your grace to go with us +To Bristol castle, which they say is held +By Bushy, Bagot and their complices, +The caterpillars of the commonwealth, +Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away. + +DUKE OF YORK: +It may be I will go with you: but yet I'll pause; +For I am loath to break our country's laws. +Nor friends nor foes, to me welcome you are: +Things past redress are now with me past care. + +Captain: +My lord of Salisbury, we have stay'd ten days, +And hardly kept our countrymen together, +And yet we hear no tidings from the king; +Therefore we will disperse ourselves: farewell. + +EARL OF SALISBURY: +Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman: +The king reposeth all his confidence in thee. + +Captain: +'Tis thought the king is dead; we will not stay. +The bay-trees in our country are all wither'd +And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven; +The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth +And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change; +Rich men look sad and ruffians dance and leap, +The one in fear to lose what they enjoy, +The other to enjoy by rage and war: +These signs forerun the death or fall of kings. +Farewell: our countrymen are gone and fled, +As well assured Richard their king is dead. + +EARL OF SALISBURY: +Ah, Richard, with the eyes of heavy mind +I see thy glory like a shooting star +Fall to the base earth from the firmament. +Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west, +Witnessing storms to come, woe and unrest: +Thy friends are fled to wait upon thy foes, +And crossly to thy good all fortune goes. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Bring forth these men. +Bushy and Green, I will not vex your souls-- +Since presently your souls must part your bodies-- +With too much urging your pernicious lives, +For 'twere no charity; yet, to wash your blood +From off my hands, here in the view of men +I will unfold some causes of your deaths. +You have misled a prince, a royal king, +A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments, +By you unhappied and disfigured clean: +You have in manner with your sinful hours +Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him, +Broke the possession of a royal bed +And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks +With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs. +Myself, a prince by fortune of my birth, +Near to the king in blood, and near in love +Till you did make him misinterpret me, +Have stoop'd my neck under your injuries, +And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds, +Eating the bitter bread of banishment; +Whilst you have fed upon my signories, +Dispark'd my parks and fell'd my forest woods, +From my own windows torn my household coat, +Razed out my imprese, leaving me no sign, +Save men's opinions and my living blood, +To show the world I am a gentleman. +This and much more, much more than twice all this, +Condemns you to the death. See them deliver'd over +To execution and the hand of death. + +BUSHY: +More welcome is the stroke of death to me +Than Bolingbroke to England. Lords, farewell. + +GREEN: +My comfort is that heaven will take our souls +And plague injustice with the pains of hell. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatch'd. +Uncle, you say the queen is at your house; +For God's sake, fairly let her be entreated: +Tell her I send to her my kind commends; +Take special care my greetings be deliver'd. + +DUKE OF YORK: +A gentleman of mine I have dispatch'd +With letters of your love to her at large. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Thank, gentle uncle. Come, lords, away. +To fight with Glendower and his complices: +Awhile to work, and after holiday. + +KING RICHARD II: +Barkloughly castle call they this at hand? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Yea, my lord. How brooks your grace the air, +After your late tossing on the breaking seas? + +KING RICHARD II: +Needs must I like it well: I weep for joy +To stand upon my kingdom once again. +Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand, +Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs: +As a long-parted mother with her child +Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting, +So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth, +And do thee favours with my royal hands. +Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth, +Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense; +But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom, +And heavy-gaited toads lie in their way, +Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet +Which with usurping steps do trample thee: +Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies; +And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower, +Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder +Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch +Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies. +Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords: +This earth shall have a feeling and these stones +Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king +Shall falter under foul rebellion's arms. + +BISHOP OF CARLISLE: +Fear not, my lord: that Power that made you king +Hath power to keep you king in spite of all. +The means that heaven yields must be embraced, +And not neglected; else, if heaven would, +And we will not, heaven's offer we refuse, +The proffer'd means of succor and redress. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +He means, my lord, that we are too remiss; +Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security, +Grows strong and great in substance and in power. + +KING RICHARD II: +Discomfortable cousin! know'st thou not +That when the searching eye of heaven is hid, +Behind the globe, that lights the lower world, +Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen +In murders and in outrage, boldly here; +But when from under this terrestrial ball +He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines +And darts his light through every guilty hole, +Then murders, treasons and detested sins, +The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their backs, +Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves? +So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke, +Who all this while hath revell'd in the night +Whilst we were wandering with the antipodes, +Shall see us rising in our throne, the east, +His treasons will sit blushing in his face, +Not able to endure the sight of day, +But self-affrighted tremble at his sin. +Not all the water in the rough rude sea +Can wash the balm off from an anointed king; +The breath of worldly men cannot depose +The deputy elected by the Lord: +For every man that Bolingbroke hath press'd +To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown, +God for his Richard hath in heavenly pay +A glorious angel: then, if angels fight, +Weak men must fall, for heaven still guards the right. +Welcome, my lord how far off lies your power? + +EARL OF SALISBURY: +Nor near nor farther off, my gracious lord, +Than this weak arm: discomfort guides my tongue +And bids me speak of nothing but despair. +One day too late, I fear me, noble lord, +Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth: +O, call back yesterday, bid time return, +And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men! +To-day, to-day, unhappy day, too late, +O'erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune and thy state: +For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead. +Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispersed and fled. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Comfort, my liege; why looks your grace so pale? + +KING RICHARD II: +But now the blood of twenty thousand men +Did triumph in my face, and they are fled; +And, till so much blood thither come again, +Have I not reason to look pale and dead? +All souls that will be safe fly from my side, +For time hath set a blot upon my pride. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Comfort, my liege; remember who you are. + +KING RICHARD II: +I had forgot myself; am I not king? +Awake, thou coward majesty! thou sleepest. +Is not the king's name twenty thousand names? +Arm, arm, my name! a puny subject strikes +At thy great glory. Look not to the ground, +Ye favourites of a king: are we not high? +High be our thoughts: I know my uncle York +Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who comes here? + +SIR STEPHEN SCROOP: +More health and happiness betide my liege +Than can my care-tuned tongue deliver him! + +KING RICHARD II: +Mine ear is open and my heart prepared; +The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold. +Say, is my kingdom lost? why, 'twas my care +And what loss is it to be rid of care? +Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we? +Greater he shall not be; if he serve God, +We'll serve Him too and be his fellow so: +Revolt our subjects? that we cannot mend; +They break their faith to God as well as us: +Cry woe, destruction, ruin and decay: +The worst is death, and death will have his day. + +SIR STEPHEN SCROOP: +Glad am I that your highness is so arm'd +To bear the tidings of calamity. +Like an unseasonable stormy day, +Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores, +As if the world were all dissolved to tears, +So high above his limits swells the rage +Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land +With hard bright steel and hearts harder than steel. +White-beards have arm'd their thin and hairless scalps +Against thy majesty; boys, with women's voices, +Strive to speak big and clap their female joints +In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown: +The very beadsmen learn to bend their bows +Of double-fatal yew against thy state; +Yea, distaff-women manage rusty bills +Against thy seat: both young and old rebel, +And all goes worse than I have power to tell. + +KING RICHARD II: +Too well, too well thou tell'st a tale so ill. +Where is the Earl of Wiltshire? where is Bagot? +What is become of Bushy? where is Green? +That they have let the dangerous enemy +Measure our confines with such peaceful steps? +If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it: +I warrant they have made peace with Bolingbroke. + +SIR STEPHEN SCROOP: +Peace have they made with him indeed, my lord. + +KING RICHARD II: +O villains, vipers, damn'd without redemption! +Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man! +Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my heart! +Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas! +Would they make peace? terrible hell make war +Upon their spotted souls for this offence! + +SIR STEPHEN SCROOP: +Sweet love, I see, changing his property, +Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate: +Again uncurse their souls; their peace is made +With heads, and not with hands; those whom you curse +Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound +And lie full low, graved in the hollow ground. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Is Bushy, Green, and the Earl of Wiltshire dead? + +SIR STEPHEN SCROOP: +Ay, all of them at Bristol lost their heads. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Where is the duke my father with his power? + +KING RICHARD II: +No matter where; of comfort no man speak: +Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; +Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes +Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth, +Let's choose executors and talk of wills: +And yet not so, for what can we bequeath +Save our deposed bodies to the ground? +Our lands, our lives and all are Bolingbroke's, +And nothing can we call our own but death +And that small model of the barren earth +Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. +For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground +And tell sad stories of the death of kings; +How some have been deposed; some slain in war, +Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed; +Some poison'd by their wives: some sleeping kill'd; +All murder'd: for within the hollow crown +That rounds the mortal temples of a king +Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits, +Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp, +Allowing him a breath, a little scene, +To monarchize, be fear'd and kill with looks, +Infusing him with self and vain conceit, +As if this flesh which walls about our life, +Were brass impregnable, and humour'd thus +Comes at the last and with a little pin +Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king! +Cover your heads and mock not flesh and blood +With solemn reverence: throw away respect, +Tradition, form and ceremonious duty, +For you have but mistook me all this while: +I live with bread like you, feel want, +Taste grief, need friends: subjected thus, +How can you say to me, I am a king? + +BISHOP OF CARLISLE: +My lord, wise men ne'er sit and wail their woes, +But presently prevent the ways to wail. +To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, +Gives in your weakness strength unto your foe, +And so your follies fight against yourself. +Fear and be slain; no worse can come to fight: +And fight and die is death destroying death; +Where fearing dying pays death servile breath. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +My father hath a power; inquire of him +And learn to make a body of a limb. + +KING RICHARD II: +Thou chidest me well: proud Bolingbroke, I come +To change blows with thee for our day of doom. +This ague fit of fear is over-blown; +An easy task it is to win our own. +Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power? +Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour. + +SIR STEPHEN SCROOP: +Men judge by the complexion of the sky +The state and inclination of the day: +So may you by my dull and heavy eye, +My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say. +I play the torturer, by small and small +To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken: +Your uncle York is join'd with Bolingbroke, +And all your northern castles yielded up, +And all your southern gentlemen in arms +Upon his party. + +KING RICHARD II: +Thou hast said enough. +Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth +Of that sweet way I was in to despair! +What say you now? what comfort have we now? +By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly +That bids me be of comfort any more. +Go to Flint castle: there I'll pine away; +A king, woe's slave, shall kingly woe obey. +That power I have, discharge; and let them go +To ear the land that hath some hope to grow, +For I have none: let no man speak again +To alter this, for counsel is but vain. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +My liege, one word. + +KING RICHARD II: +He does me double wrong +That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. +Discharge my followers: let them hence away, +From Richard's night to Bolingbroke's fair day. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +So that by this intelligence we learn +The Welshmen are dispersed, and Salisbury +Is gone to meet the king, who lately landed +With some few private friends upon this coast. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +The news is very fair and good, my lord: +Richard not far from hence hath hid his head. + +DUKE OF YORK: +It would beseem the Lord Northumberland +To say 'King Richard:' alack the heavy day +When such a sacred king should hide his head. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Your grace mistakes; only to be brief +Left I his title out. + +DUKE OF YORK: +The time hath been, +Would you have been so brief with him, he would +Have been so brief with you, to shorten you, +For taking so the head, your whole head's length. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Mistake not, uncle, further than you should. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Take not, good cousin, further than you should. +Lest you mistake the heavens are o'er our heads. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +I know it, uncle, and oppose not myself +Against their will. But who comes here? +Welcome, Harry: what, will not this castle yield? + +HENRY PERCY: +The castle royally is mann'd, my lord, +Against thy entrance. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Royally! +Why, it contains no king? + +HENRY PERCY: +Yes, my good lord, +It doth contain a king; King Richard lies +Within the limits of yon lime and stone: +And with him are the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury, +Sir Stephen Scroop, besides a clergyman +Of holy reverence; who, I cannot learn. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +O, belike it is the Bishop of Carlisle. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Noble lords, +Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle; +Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parley +Into his ruin'd ears, and thus deliver: +Henry Bolingbroke +On both his knees doth kiss King Richard's hand +And sends allegiance and true faith of heart +To his most royal person, hither come +Even at his feet to lay my arms and power, +Provided that my banishment repeal'd +And lands restored again be freely granted: +If not, I'll use the advantage of my power +And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood +Rain'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen: +The which, how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke +It is, such crimson tempest should bedrench +The fresh green lap of fair King Richard's land, +My stooping duty tenderly shall show. +Go, signify as much, while here we march +Upon the grassy carpet of this plain. +Let's march without the noise of threatening drum, +That from this castle's tatter'd battlements +Our fair appointments may be well perused. +Methinks King Richard and myself should meet +With no less terror than the elements +Of fire and water, when their thundering shock +At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven. +Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water: +The rage be his, whilst on the earth I rain +My waters; on the earth, and not on him. +March on, and mark King Richard how he looks. +See, see, King Richard doth himself appear, +As doth the blushing discontented sun +From out the fiery portal of the east, +When he perceives the envious clouds are bent +To dim his glory and to stain the track +Of his bright passage to the occident. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Yet looks he like a king: behold, his eye, +As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth +Controlling majesty: alack, alack, for woe, +That any harm should stain so fair a show! + +KING RICHARD II: +We are amazed; and thus long have we stood +To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, +Because we thought ourself thy lawful king: +And if we be, how dare thy joints forget +To pay their awful duty to our presence? +If we be not, show us the hand of God +That hath dismissed us from our stewardship; +For well we know, no hand of blood and bone +Can gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre, +Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp. +And though you think that all, as you have done, +Have torn their souls by turning them from us, +And we are barren and bereft of friends; +Yet know, my master, God omnipotent, +Is mustering in his clouds on our behalf +Armies of pestilence; and they shall strike +Your children yet unborn and unbegot, +That lift your vassal hands against my head +And threat the glory of my precious crown. +Tell Bolingbroke--for yond methinks he stands-- +That every stride he makes upon my land +Is dangerous treason: he is come to open +The purple testament of bleeding war; +But ere the crown he looks for live in peace, +Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons +Shall ill become the flower of England's face, +Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace +To scarlet indignation and bedew +Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +The king of heaven forbid our lord the king +Should so with civil and uncivil arms +Be rush'd upon! Thy thrice noble cousin +Harry Bolingbroke doth humbly kiss thy hand; +And by the honourable tomb he swears, +That stands upon your royal grandsire's bones, +And by the royalties of both your bloods, +Currents that spring from one most gracious head, +And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt, +And by the worth and honour of himself, +Comprising all that may be sworn or said, +His coming hither hath no further scope +Than for his lineal royalties and to beg +Enfranchisement immediate on his knees: +Which on thy royal party granted once, +His glittering arms he will commend to rust, +His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart +To faithful service of your majesty. +This swears he, as he is a prince, is just; +And, as I am a gentleman, I credit him. + +KING RICHARD II: +Northumberland, say thus the king returns: +His noble cousin is right welcome hither; +And all the number of his fair demands +Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction: +With all the gracious utterance thou hast +Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends. +We do debase ourselves, cousin, do we not, +To look so poorly and to speak so fair? +Shall we call back Northumberland, and send +Defiance to the traitor, and so die? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +No, good my lord; let's fight with gentle words +Till time lend friends and friends their helpful swords. + +KING RICHARD II: +O God, O God! that e'er this tongue of mine, +That laid the sentence of dread banishment +On yon proud man, should take it off again +With words of sooth! O that I were as great +As is my grief, or lesser than my name! +Or that I could forget what I have been, +Or not remember what I must be now! +Swell'st thou, proud heart? I'll give thee scope to beat, +Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke. + +KING RICHARD II: +What must the king do now? must he submit? +The king shall do it: must he be deposed? +The king shall be contented: must he lose +The name of king? o' God's name, let it go: +I'll give my jewels for a set of beads, +My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, +My gay apparel for an almsman's gown, +My figured goblets for a dish of wood, +My sceptre for a palmer's walking staff, +My subjects for a pair of carved saints +And my large kingdom for a little grave, +A little little grave, an obscure grave; +Or I'll be buried in the king's highway, +Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet +May hourly trample on their sovereign's head; +For on my heart they tread now whilst I live; +And buried once, why not upon my head? +Aumerle, thou weep'st, my tender-hearted cousin! +We'll make foul weather with despised tears; +Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn, +And make a dearth in this revolting land. +Or shall we play the wantons with our woes, +And make some pretty match with shedding tears? +As thus, to drop them still upon one place, +Till they have fretted us a pair of graves +Within the earth; and, therein laid,--there lies +Two kinsmen digg'd their graves with weeping eyes. +Would not this ill do well? Well, well, I see +I talk but idly, and you laugh at me. +Most mighty prince, my Lord Northumberland, +What says King Bolingbroke? will his majesty +Give Richard leave to live till Richard die? +You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says ay. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +My lord, in the base court he doth attend +To speak with you; may it please you to come down. + +KING RICHARD II: +Down, down I come; like glistering Phaethon, +Wanting the manage of unruly jades. +In the base court? Base court, where kings grow base, +To come at traitors' calls and do them grace. +In the base court? Come down? Down, court! +down, king! +For night-owls shriek where mounting larks +should sing. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +What says his majesty? + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Sorrow and grief of heart +Makes him speak fondly, like a frantic man +Yet he is come. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Stand all apart, +And show fair duty to his majesty. +My gracious lord,-- + +KING RICHARD II: +Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee +To make the base earth proud with kissing it: +Me rather had my heart might feel your love +Than my unpleased eye see your courtesy. +Up, cousin, up; your heart is up, I know, +Thus high at least, although your knee be low. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +My gracious lord, I come but for mine own. + +KING RICHARD II: +Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +So far be mine, my most redoubted lord, +As my true service shall deserve your love. + +KING RICHARD II: +Well you deserve: they well deserve to have, +That know the strong'st and surest way to get. +Uncle, give me your hands: nay, dry your eyes; +Tears show their love, but want their remedies. +Cousin, I am too young to be your father, +Though you are old enough to be my heir. +What you will have, I'll give, and willing too; +For do we must what force will have us do. +Set on towards London, cousin, is it so? + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Yea, my good lord. + +KING RICHARD II: +Then I must not say no. + +QUEEN: +What sport shall we devise here in this garden, +To drive away the heavy thought of care? + +Lady: +Madam, we'll play at bowls. + +QUEEN: +'Twill make me think the world is full of rubs, +And that my fortune rubs against the bias. + +Lady: +Madam, we'll dance. + +QUEEN: +My legs can keep no measure in delight, +When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief: +Therefore, no dancing, girl; some other sport. + +Lady: +Madam, we'll tell tales. + +QUEEN: +Of sorrow or of joy? + +Lady: +Of either, madam. + +QUEEN: +Of neither, girl: +For of joy, being altogether wanting, +It doth remember me the more of sorrow; +Or if of grief, being altogether had, +It adds more sorrow to my want of joy: +For what I have I need not to repeat; +And what I want it boots not to complain. + +Lady: +Madam, I'll sing. + +QUEEN: +'Tis well that thou hast cause +But thou shouldst please me better, wouldst thou weep. + +Lady: +I could weep, madam, would it do you good. + +QUEEN: +And I could sing, would weeping do me good, +And never borrow any tear of thee. +But stay, here come the gardeners: +Let's step into the shadow of these trees. +My wretchedness unto a row of pins, +They'll talk of state; for every one doth so +Against a change; woe is forerun with woe. + +Gardener: +Go, bind thou up yon dangling apricocks, +Which, like unruly children, make their sire +Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight: +Give some supportance to the bending twigs. +Go thou, and like an executioner, +Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprays, +That look too lofty in our commonwealth: +All must be even in our government. +You thus employ'd, I will go root away +The noisome weeds, which without profit suck +The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers. + +Servant: +Why should we in the compass of a pale +Keep law and form and due proportion, +Showing, as in a model, our firm estate, +When our sea-walled garden, the whole land, +Is full of weeds, her fairest flowers choked up, +Her fruit-trees all upturned, her hedges ruin'd, +Her knots disorder'd and her wholesome herbs +Swarming with caterpillars? + +Gardener: +Hold thy peace: +He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring +Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf: +The weeds which his broad-spreading leaves did shelter, +That seem'd in eating him to hold him up, +Are pluck'd up root and all by Bolingbroke, +I mean the Earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green. + +Servant: +What, are they dead? + +Gardener: +They are; and Bolingbroke +Hath seized the wasteful king. O, what pity is it +That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his land +As we this garden! We at time of year +Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees, +Lest, being over-proud in sap and blood, +With too much riches it confound itself: +Had he done so to great and growing men, +They might have lived to bear and he to taste +Their fruits of duty: superfluous branches +We lop away, that bearing boughs may live: +Had he done so, himself had borne the crown, +Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down. + +Servant: +What, think you then the king shall be deposed? + +Gardener: +Depress'd he is already, and deposed +'Tis doubt he will be: letters came last night +To a dear friend of the good Duke of York's, +That tell black tidings. + +QUEEN: +O, I am press'd to death through want of speaking! +Thou, old Adam's likeness, set to dress this garden, +How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this unpleasing news? +What Eve, what serpent, hath suggested thee +To make a second fall of cursed man? +Why dost thou say King Richard is deposed? +Darest thou, thou little better thing than earth, +Divine his downfall? Say, where, when, and how, +Camest thou by this ill tidings? speak, thou wretch. + +Gardener: +Pardon me, madam: little joy have I +To breathe this news; yet what I say is true. +King Richard, he is in the mighty hold +Of Bolingbroke: their fortunes both are weigh'd: +In your lord's scale is nothing but himself, +And some few vanities that make him light; +But in the balance of great Bolingbroke, +Besides himself, are all the English peers, +And with that odds he weighs King Richard down. +Post you to London, and you will find it so; +I speak no more than every one doth know. + +QUEEN: +Nimble mischance, that art so light of foot, +Doth not thy embassage belong to me, +And am I last that knows it? O, thou think'st +To serve me last, that I may longest keep +Thy sorrow in my breast. Come, ladies, go, +To meet at London London's king in woe. +What, was I born to this, that my sad look +Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke? +Gardener, for telling me these news of woe, +Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow. + +GARDENER: +Poor queen! so that thy state might be no worse, +I would my skill were subject to thy curse. +Here did she fall a tear; here in this place +I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace: +Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen, +In the remembrance of a weeping queen. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Call forth Bagot. +Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind; +What thou dost know of noble Gloucester's death, +Who wrought it with the king, and who perform'd +The bloody office of his timeless end. + +BAGOT: +Then set before my face the Lord Aumerle. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man. + +BAGOT: +My Lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue +Scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver'd. +In that dead time when Gloucester's death was plotted, +I heard you say, 'Is not my arm of length, +That reacheth from the restful English court +As far as Calais, to mine uncle's head?' +Amongst much other talk, that very time, +I heard you say that you had rather refuse +The offer of an hundred thousand crowns +Than Bolingbroke's return to England; +Adding withal how blest this land would be +In this your cousin's death. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Princes and noble lords, +What answer shall I make to this base man? +Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars, +On equal terms to give him chastisement? +Either I must, or have mine honour soil'd +With the attainder of his slanderous lips. +There is my gage, the manual seal of death, +That marks thee out for hell: I say, thou liest, +And will maintain what thou hast said is false +In thy heart-blood, though being all too base +To stain the temper of my knightly sword. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Bagot, forbear; thou shalt not take it up. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Excepting one, I would he were the best +In all this presence that hath moved me so. + +LORD FITZWATER: +If that thy valour stand on sympathy, +There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine: +By that fair sun which shows me where thou stand'st, +I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spakest it +That thou wert cause of noble Gloucester's death. +If thou deny'st it twenty times, thou liest; +And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart, +Where it was forged, with my rapier's point. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Thou darest not, coward, live to see that day. + +LORD FITZWATER: +Now by my soul, I would it were this hour. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Fitzwater, thou art damn'd to hell for this. + +HENRY PERCY: +Aumerle, thou liest; his honour is as true +In this appeal as thou art all unjust; +And that thou art so, there I throw my gage, +To prove it on thee to the extremest point +Of mortal breathing: seize it, if thou darest. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +An if I do not, may my hands rot off +And never brandish more revengeful steel +Over the glittering helmet of my foe! + +Lord: +I task the earth to the like, forsworn Aumerle; +And spur thee on with full as many lies +As may be holloa'd in thy treacherous ear +From sun to sun: there is my honour's pawn; +Engage it to the trial, if thou darest. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Who sets me else? by heaven, I'll throw at all: +I have a thousand spirits in one breast, +To answer twenty thousand such as you. + +DUKE OF SURREY: +My Lord Fitzwater, I do remember well +The very time Aumerle and you did talk. + +LORD FITZWATER: +'Tis very true: you were in presence then; +And you can witness with me this is true. + +DUKE OF SURREY: +As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true. + +LORD FITZWATER: +Surrey, thou liest. + +DUKE OF SURREY: +Dishonourable boy! +That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword, +That it shall render vengeance and revenge +Till thou the lie-giver and that lie do lie +In earth as quiet as thy father's skull: +In proof whereof, there is my honour's pawn; +Engage it to the trial, if thou darest. + +LORD FITZWATER: +How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse! +If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live, +I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness, +And spit upon him, whilst I say he lies, +And lies, and lies: there is my bond of faith, +To tie thee to my strong correction. +As I intend to thrive in this new world, +Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal: +Besides, I heard the banish'd Norfolk say +That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men +To execute the noble duke at Calais. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Some honest Christian trust me with a gage +That Norfolk lies: here do I throw down this, +If he may be repeal'd, to try his honour. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +These differences shall all rest under gage +Till Norfolk be repeal'd: repeal'd he shall be, +And, though mine enemy, restored again +To all his lands and signories: when he's return'd, +Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial. + +BISHOP OF CARLISLE: +That honourable day shall ne'er be seen. +Many a time hath banish'd Norfolk fought +For Jesu Christ in glorious Christian field, +Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross +Against black pagans, Turks, and Saracens: +And toil'd with works of war, retired himself +To Italy; and there at Venice gave +His body to that pleasant country's earth, +And his pure soul unto his captain Christ, +Under whose colours he had fought so long. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead? + +BISHOP OF CARLISLE: +As surely as I live, my lord. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the bosom +Of good old Abraham! Lords appellants, +Your differences shall all rest under gage +Till we assign you to your days of trial. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee +From plume-pluck'd Richard; who with willing soul +Adopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yields +To the possession of thy royal hand: +Ascend his throne, descending now from him; +And long live Henry, fourth of that name! + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +In God's name, I'll ascend the regal throne. + +BISHOP OF CARLISLE: +Marry. God forbid! +Worst in this royal presence may I speak, +Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth. +Would God that any in this noble presence +Were enough noble to be upright judge +Of noble Richard! then true noblesse would +Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong. +What subject can give sentence on his king? +And who sits here that is not Richard's subject? +Thieves are not judged but they are by to hear, +Although apparent guilt be seen in them; +And shall the figure of God's majesty, +His captain, steward, deputy-elect, +Anointed, crowned, planted many years, +Be judged by subject and inferior breath, +And he himself not present? O, forfend it, God, +That in a Christian climate souls refined +Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed! +I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks, +Stirr'd up by God, thus boldly for his king: +My Lord of Hereford here, whom you call king, +Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king: +And if you crown him, let me prophesy: +The blood of English shall manure the ground, +And future ages groan for this foul act; +Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels, +And in this seat of peace tumultuous wars +Shall kin with kin and kind with kind confound; +Disorder, horror, fear and mutiny +Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd +The field of Golgotha and dead men's skulls. +O, if you raise this house against this house, +It will the woefullest division prove +That ever fell upon this cursed earth. +Prevent it, resist it, let it not be so, +Lest child, child's children, cry against you woe! + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Well have you argued, sir; and, for your pains, +Of capital treason we arrest you here. +My Lord of Westminster, be it your charge +To keep him safely till his day of trial. +May it please you, lords, to grant the commons' suit. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Fetch hither Richard, that in common view +He may surrender; so we shall proceed +Without suspicion. + +DUKE OF YORK: +I will be his conduct. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Lords, you that here are under our arrest, +Procure your sureties for your days of answer. +Little are we beholding to your love, +And little look'd for at your helping hands. + +KING RICHARD II: +Alack, why am I sent for to a king, +Before I have shook off the regal thoughts +Wherewith I reign'd? I hardly yet have learn'd +To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my limbs: +Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor me +To this submission. Yet I well remember +The favours of these men: were they not mine? +Did they not sometime cry, 'all hail!' to me? +So Judas did to Christ: but he, in twelve, +Found truth in all but one: I, in twelve thousand, none. +God save the king! Will no man say amen? +Am I both priest and clerk? well then, amen. +God save the king! although I be not he; +And yet, amen, if heaven do think him me. +To do what service am I sent for hither? + +DUKE OF YORK: +To do that office of thine own good will +Which tired majesty did make thee offer, +The resignation of thy state and crown +To Henry Bolingbroke. + +KING RICHARD II: +Give me the crown. Here, cousin, seize the crown; +Here cousin: +On this side my hand, and on that side yours. +Now is this golden crown like a deep well +That owes two buckets, filling one another, +The emptier ever dancing in the air, +The other down, unseen and full of water: +That bucket down and full of tears am I, +Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +I thought you had been willing to resign. + +KING RICHARD II: +My crown I am; but still my griefs are mine: +You may my glories and my state depose, +But not my griefs; still am I king of those. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Part of your cares you give me with your crown. + +KING RICHARD II: +Your cares set up do not pluck my cares down. +My care is loss of care, by old care done; +Your care is gain of care, by new care won: +The cares I give I have, though given away; +They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Are you contented to resign the crown? + +KING RICHARD II: +Ay, no; no, ay; for I must nothing be; +Therefore no no, for I resign to thee. +Now mark me, how I will undo myself; +I give this heavy weight from off my head +And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand, +The pride of kingly sway from out my heart; +With mine own tears I wash away my balm, +With mine own hands I give away my crown, +With mine own tongue deny my sacred state, +With mine own breath release all duty's rites: +All pomp and majesty I do forswear; +My manors, rents, revenues I forego; +My acts, decrees, and statutes I deny: +God pardon all oaths that are broke to me! +God keep all vows unbroke that swear to thee! +Make me, that nothing have, with nothing grieved, +And thou with all pleased, that hast all achieved! +Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit, +And soon lie Richard in an earthly pit! +God save King Harry, unking'd Richard says, +And send him many years of sunshine days! +What more remains? + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +No more, but that you read +These accusations and these grievous crimes +Committed by your person and your followers +Against the state and profit of this land; +That, by confessing them, the souls of men +May deem that you are worthily deposed. + +KING RICHARD II: +Must I do so? and must I ravel out +My weaved-up folly? Gentle Northumberland, +If thy offences were upon record, +Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop +To read a lecture of them? If thou wouldst, +There shouldst thou find one heinous article, +Containing the deposing of a king +And cracking the strong warrant of an oath, +Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven: +Nay, all of you that stand and look upon, +Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself, +Though some of you with Pilate wash your hands +Showing an outward pity; yet you Pilates +Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross, +And water cannot wash away your sin. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +My lord, dispatch; read o'er these articles. + +KING RICHARD II: +Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see: +And yet salt water blinds them not so much +But they can see a sort of traitors here. +Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself, +I find myself a traitor with the rest; +For I have given here my soul's consent +To undeck the pompous body of a king; +Made glory base and sovereignty a slave, +Proud majesty a subject, state a peasant. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +My lord,-- + +KING RICHARD II: +No lord of thine, thou haught insulting man, +Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title, +No, not that name was given me at the font, +But 'tis usurp'd: alack the heavy day, +That I have worn so many winters out, +And know not now what name to call myself! +O that I were a mockery king of snow, +Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke, +To melt myself away in water-drops! +Good king, great king, and yet not greatly good, +An if my word be sterling yet in England, +Let it command a mirror hither straight, +That it may show me what a face I have, +Since it is bankrupt of his majesty. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Go some of you and fetch a looking-glass. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Read o'er this paper while the glass doth come. + +KING RICHARD II: +Fiend, thou torment'st me ere I come to hell! + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Urge it no more, my Lord Northumberland. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +The commons will not then be satisfied. + +KING RICHARD II: +They shall be satisfied: I'll read enough, +When I do see the very book indeed +Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself. +Give me the glass, and therein will I read. +No deeper wrinkles yet? hath sorrow struck +So many blows upon this face of mine, +And made no deeper wounds? O flattering glass, +Like to my followers in prosperity, +Thou dost beguile me! Was this face the face +That every day under his household roof +Did keep ten thousand men? was this the face +That, like the sun, did make beholders wink? +Was this the face that faced so many follies, +And was at last out-faced by Bolingbroke? +A brittle glory shineth in this face: +As brittle as the glory is the face; +For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers. +Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport, +How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd +The shadow or your face. + +KING RICHARD II: +Say that again. +The shadow of my sorrow! ha! let's see: +'Tis very true, my grief lies all within; +And these external manners of laments +Are merely shadows to the unseen grief +That swells with silence in the tortured soul; +There lies the substance: and I thank thee, king, +For thy great bounty, that not only givest +Me cause to wail but teachest me the way +How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon, +And then be gone and trouble you no more. +Shall I obtain it? + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Name it, fair cousin. + +KING RICHARD II: +'Fair cousin'? I am greater than a king: +For when I was a king, my flatterers +Were then but subjects; being now a subject, +I have a king here to my flatterer. +Being so great, I have no need to beg. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Yet ask. + +KING RICHARD II: +And shall I have? + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +You shall. + +KING RICHARD II: +Then give me leave to go. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Whither? + +KING RICHARD II: +Whither you will, so I were from your sights. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Go, some of you convey him to the Tower. + +KING RICHARD II: +O, good! convey? conveyers are you all, +That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +On Wednesday next we solemnly set down +Our coronation: lords, prepare yourselves. + +Abbot: +A woeful pageant have we here beheld. + +BISHOP OF CARLISLE: +The woe's to come; the children yet unborn. +Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +You holy clergymen, is there no plot +To rid the realm of this pernicious blot? + +Abbot: +My lord, +Before I freely speak my mind herein, +You shall not only take the sacrament +To bury mine intents, but also to effect +Whatever I shall happen to devise. +I see your brows are full of discontent, +Your hearts of sorrow and your eyes of tears: +Come home with me to supper; and I'll lay +A plot shall show us all a merry day. + +QUEEN: +This way the king will come; this is the way +To Julius Caesar's ill-erected tower, +To whose flint bosom my condemned lord +Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke: +Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth +Have any resting for her true king's queen. +But soft, but see, or rather do not see, +My fair rose wither: yet look up, behold, +That you in pity may dissolve to dew, +And wash him fresh again with true-love tears. +Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand, +Thou map of honour, thou King Richard's tomb, +And not King Richard; thou most beauteous inn, +Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodged in thee, +When triumph is become an alehouse guest? + +KING RICHARD II: +Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so, +To make my end too sudden: learn, good soul, +To think our former state a happy dream; +From which awaked, the truth of what we are +Shows us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet, +To grim Necessity, and he and I +Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France +And cloister thee in some religious house: +Our holy lives must win a new world's crown, +Which our profane hours here have stricken down. + +QUEEN: +What, is my Richard both in shape and mind +Transform'd and weaken'd? hath Bolingbroke deposed +Thine intellect? hath he been in thy heart? +The lion dying thrusteth forth his paw, +And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage +To be o'erpower'd; and wilt thou, pupil-like, +Take thy correction mildly, kiss the rod, +And fawn on rage with base humility, +Which art a lion and a king of beasts? + +KING RICHARD II: +A king of beasts, indeed; if aught but beasts, +I had been still a happy king of men. +Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for France: +Think I am dead and that even here thou takest, +As from my death-bed, thy last living leave. +In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire +With good old folks and let them tell thee tales +Of woeful ages long ago betid; +And ere thou bid good night, to quit their griefs, +Tell thou the lamentable tale of me +And send the hearers weeping to their beds: +For why, the senseless brands will sympathize +The heavy accent of thy moving tongue +And in compassion weep the fire out; +And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black, +For the deposing of a rightful king. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is changed: +You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower. +And, madam, there is order ta'en for you; +With all swift speed you must away to France. + +KING RICHARD II: +Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal +The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne, +The time shall not be many hours of age +More than it is ere foul sin gathering head +Shalt break into corruption: thou shalt think, +Though he divide the realm and give thee half, +It is too little, helping him to all; +And he shall think that thou, which know'st the way +To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again, +Being ne'er so little urged, another way +To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne. +The love of wicked men converts to fear; +That fear to hate, and hate turns one or both +To worthy danger and deserved death. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +My guilt be on my head, and there an end. +Take leave and part; for you must part forthwith. + +KING RICHARD II: +Doubly divorced! Bad men, you violate +A twofold marriage, 'twixt my crown and me, +And then betwixt me and my married wife. +Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me; +And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made. +Part us, Northumberland; I toward the north, +Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime; +My wife to France: from whence, set forth in pomp, +She came adorned hither like sweet May, +Sent back like Hallowmas or short'st of day. + +QUEEN: +And must we be divided? must we part? + +KING RICHARD II: +Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart. + +QUEEN: +Banish us both and send the king with me. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +That were some love but little policy. + +QUEEN: +Then whither he goes, thither let me go. + +KING RICHARD II: +So two, together weeping, make one woe. +Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here; +Better far off than near, be ne'er the near. +Go, count thy way with sighs; I mine with groans. + +QUEEN: +So longest way shall have the longest moans. + +KING RICHARD II: +Twice for one step I'll groan, the way being short, +And piece the way out with a heavy heart. +Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief, +Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief; +One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part; +Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart. + +QUEEN: +Give me mine own again; 'twere no good part +To take on me to keep and kill thy heart. +So, now I have mine own again, be gone, +That I might strive to kill it with a groan. + +KING RICHARD II: +We make woe wanton with this fond delay: +Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +My lord, you told me you would tell the rest, +When weeping made you break the story off, +of our two cousins coming into London. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Where did I leave? + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +At that sad stop, my lord, +Where rude misgovern'd hands from windows' tops +Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Then, as I said, the duke, great Bolingbroke, +Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed +Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know, +With slow but stately pace kept on his course, +Whilst all tongues cried 'God save thee, +Bolingbroke!' +You would have thought the very windows spake, +So many greedy looks of young and old +Through casements darted their desiring eyes +Upon his visage, and that all the walls +With painted imagery had said at once +'Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke!' +Whilst he, from the one side to the other turning, +Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed's neck, +Bespake them thus: 'I thank you, countrymen:' +And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Alack, poor Richard! where rode he the whilst? + +DUKE OF YORK: +As in a theatre, the eyes of men, +After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, +Are idly bent on him that enters next, +Thinking his prattle to be tedious; +Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes +Did scowl on gentle Richard; no man cried 'God save him!' +No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home: +But dust was thrown upon his sacred head: +Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, +His face still combating with tears and smiles, +The badges of his grief and patience, +That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd +The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted +And barbarism itself have pitied him. +But heaven hath a hand in these events, +To whose high will we bound our calm contents. +To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now, +Whose state and honour I for aye allow. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Here comes my son Aumerle. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Aumerle that was; +But that is lost for being Richard's friend, +And, madam, you must call him Rutland now: +I am in parliament pledge for his truth +And lasting fealty to the new-made king. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Welcome, my son: who are the violets now +That strew the green lap of the new come spring? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not: +God knows I had as lief be none as one. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Well, bear you well in this new spring of time, +Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. +What news from Oxford? hold those justs and triumphs? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +For aught I know, my lord, they do. + +DUKE OF YORK: +You will be there, I know. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +If God prevent not, I purpose so. + +DUKE OF YORK: +What seal is that, that hangs without thy bosom? +Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +My lord, 'tis nothing. + +DUKE OF YORK: +No matter, then, who see it; +I will be satisfied; let me see the writing. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +I do beseech your grace to pardon me: +It is a matter of small consequence, +Which for some reasons I would not have seen. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see. +I fear, I fear,-- + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +What should you fear? +'Tis nothing but some bond, that he is enter'd into +For gay apparel 'gainst the triumph day. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Bound to himself! what doth he with a bond +That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool. +Boy, let me see the writing. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not show it. + +DUKE OF YORK: +I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say. +Treason! foul treason! Villain! traitor! slave! + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +What is the matter, my lord? + +DUKE OF YORK: +Ho! who is within there? +Saddle my horse. +God for his mercy, what treachery is here! + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Why, what is it, my lord? + +DUKE OF YORK: +Give me my boots, I say; saddle my horse. +Now, by mine honour, by my life, by my troth, +I will appeach the villain. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +What is the matter? + +DUKE OF YORK: +Peace, foolish woman. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +I will not peace. What is the matter, Aumerle. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Good mother, be content; it is no more +Than my poor life must answer. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Thy life answer! + +DUKE OF YORK: +Bring me my boots: I will unto the king. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Strike him, Aumerle. Poor boy, thou art amazed. +Hence, villain! never more come in my sight. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Give me my boots, I say. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Why, York, what wilt thou do? +Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own? +Have we more sons? or are we like to have? +Is not my teeming date drunk up with time? +And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age, +And rob me of a happy mother's name? +Is he not like thee? is he not thine own? + +DUKE OF YORK: +Thou fond mad woman, +Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy? +A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament, +And interchangeably set down their hands, +To kill the king at Oxford. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +He shall be none; +We'll keep him here: then what is that to him? + +DUKE OF YORK: +Away, fond woman! were he twenty times my son, +I would appeach him. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Hadst thou groan'd for him +As I have done, thou wouldst be more pitiful. +But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect +That I have been disloyal to thy bed, +And that he is a bastard, not thy son: +Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind: +He is as like thee as a man may be, +Not like to me, or any of my kin, +And yet I love him. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Make way, unruly woman! + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +After, Aumerle! mount thee upon his horse; +Spur post, and get before him to the king, +And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee. +I'll not be long behind; though I be old, +I doubt not but to ride as fast as York: +And never will I rise up from the ground +Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee. Away, be gone! + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Can no man tell me of my unthrifty son? +'Tis full three months since I did see him last; +If any plague hang over us, 'tis he. +I would to God, my lords, he might be found: +Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there, +For there, they say, he daily doth frequent, +With unrestrained loose companions, +Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes, +And beat our watch, and rob our passengers; +Which he, young wanton and effeminate boy, +Takes on the point of honour to support +So dissolute a crew. + +HENRY PERCY: +My lord, some two days since I saw the prince, +And told him of those triumphs held at Oxford. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +And what said the gallant? + +HENRY PERCY: +His answer was, he would unto the stews, +And from the common'st creature pluck a glove, +And wear it as a favour; and with that +He would unhorse the lustiest challenger. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +As dissolute as desperate; yet through both +I see some sparks of better hope, which elder years +May happily bring forth. But who comes here? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Where is the king? + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +What means our cousin, that he stares and looks +So wildly? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +God save your grace! I do beseech your majesty, +To have some conference with your grace alone. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone. +What is the matter with our cousin now? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +For ever may my knees grow to the earth, +My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth +Unless a pardon ere I rise or speak. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Intended or committed was this fault? +If on the first, how heinous e'er it be, +To win thy after-love I pardon thee. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Then give me leave that I may turn the key, +That no man enter till my tale be done. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Have thy desire. + +DUKE OF YORK: + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Villain, I'll make thee safe. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Stay thy revengeful hand; thou hast no cause to fear. + +DUKE OF YORK: + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +What is the matter, uncle? speak; +Recover breath; tell us how near is danger, +That we may arm us to encounter it. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know +The treason that my haste forbids me show. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise pass'd: +I do repent me; read not my name there +My heart is not confederate with my hand. + +DUKE OF YORK: +It was, villain, ere thy hand did set it down. +I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king; +Fear, and not love, begets his penitence: +Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove +A serpent that will sting thee to the heart. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +O heinous, strong and bold conspiracy! +O loyal father of a treacherous son! +Thou sheer, immaculate and silver fountain, +From when this stream through muddy passages +Hath held his current and defiled himself! +Thy overflow of good converts to bad, +And thy abundant goodness shall excuse +This deadly blot in thy digressing son. + +DUKE OF YORK: +So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd; +And he shall spend mine honour with his shame, +As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold. +Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies, +Or my shamed life in his dishonour lies: +Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath, +The traitor lives, the true man's put to death. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +What shrill-voiced suppliant makes this eager cry? + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +A woman, and thy aunt, great king; 'tis I. +Speak with me, pity me, open the door. +A beggar begs that never begg'd before. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Our scene is alter'd from a serious thing, +And now changed to 'The Beggar and the King.' +My dangerous cousin, let your mother in: +I know she is come to pray for your foul sin. + +DUKE OF YORK: +If thou do pardon, whosoever pray, +More sins for this forgiveness prosper may. +This fester'd joint cut off, the rest rest sound; +This let alone will all the rest confound. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +O king, believe not this hard-hearted man! +Love loving not itself none other can. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make here? +Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear? + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Sweet York, be patient. Hear me, gentle liege. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Rise up, good aunt. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Not yet, I thee beseech: +For ever will I walk upon my knees, +And never see day that the happy sees, +Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy, +By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Unto my mother's prayers I bend my knee. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Against them both my true joints bended be. +Ill mayst thou thrive, if thou grant any grace! + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Pleads he in earnest? look upon his face; +His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest; +His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast: +He prays but faintly and would be denied; +We pray with heart and soul and all beside: +His weary joints would gladly rise, I know; +Our knees shall kneel till to the ground they grow: +His prayers are full of false hypocrisy; +Ours of true zeal and deep integrity. +Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them have +That mercy which true prayer ought to have. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Good aunt, stand up. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Nay, do not say, 'stand up;' +Say, 'pardon' first, and afterwards 'stand up.' +And if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach, +'Pardon' should be the first word of thy speech. +I never long'd to hear a word till now; +Say 'pardon,' king; let pity teach thee how: +The word is short, but not so short as sweet; +No word like 'pardon' for kings' mouths so meet. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Speak it in French, king; say, 'pardonne moi.' + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy? +Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord, +That set'st the word itself against the word! +Speak 'pardon' as 'tis current in our land; +The chopping French we do not understand. +Thine eye begins to speak; set thy tongue there; +Or in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear; +That hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce, +Pity may move thee 'pardon' to rehearse. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Good aunt, stand up. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +I do not sue to stand; +Pardon is all the suit I have in hand. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +I pardon him, as God shall pardon me. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +O happy vantage of a kneeling knee! +Yet am I sick for fear: speak it again; +Twice saying 'pardon' doth not pardon twain, +But makes one pardon strong. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +With all my heart +I pardon him. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +A god on earth thou art. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +But for our trusty brother-in-law and the abbot, +With all the rest of that consorted crew, +Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels. +Good uncle, help to order several powers +To Oxford, or where'er these traitors are: +They shall not live within this world, I swear, +But I will have them, if I once know where. +Uncle, farewell: and, cousin too, adieu: +Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Come, my old son: I pray God make thee new. + +EXTON: +Didst thou not mark the king, what words he spake, +'Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?' +Was it not so? + +Servant: +These were his very words. + +EXTON: +'Have I no friend?' quoth he: he spake it twice, +And urged it twice together, did he not? + +Servant: +He did. + +EXTON: +And speaking it, he wistly look'd on me, +And who should say, 'I would thou wert the man' +That would divorce this terror from my heart;' +Meaning the king at Pomfret. Come, let's go: +I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe. + +KING RICHARD II: +I have been studying how I may compare +This prison where I live unto the world: +And for because the world is populous +And here is not a creature but myself, +I cannot do it; yet I'll hammer it out. +My brain I'll prove the female to my soul, +My soul the father; and these two beget +A generation of still-breeding thoughts, +And these same thoughts people this little world, +In humours like the people of this world, +For no thought is contented. The better sort, +As thoughts of things divine, are intermix'd +With scruples and do set the word itself +Against the word: +As thus, 'Come, little ones,' and then again, +'It is as hard to come as for a camel +To thread the postern of a small needle's eye.' +Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot +Unlikely wonders; how these vain weak nails +May tear a passage through the flinty ribs +Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls, +And, for they cannot, die in their own pride. +Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves +That they are not the first of fortune's slaves, +Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars +Who sitting in the stocks refuge their shame, +That many have and others must sit there; +And in this thought they find a kind of ease, +Bearing their own misfortunes on the back +Of such as have before endured the like. +Thus play I in one person many people, +And none contented: sometimes am I king; +Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar, +And so I am: then crushing penury +Persuades me I was better when a king; +Then am I king'd again: and by and by +Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke, +And straight am nothing: but whate'er I be, +Nor I nor any man that but man is +With nothing shall be pleased, till he be eased +With being nothing. Music do I hear? +Ha, ha! keep time: how sour sweet music is, +When time is broke and no proportion kept! +So is it in the music of men's lives. +And here have I the daintiness of ear +To cheque time broke in a disorder'd string; +But for the concord of my state and time +Had not an ear to hear my true time broke. +I wasted time, and now doth time waste me; +For now hath time made me his numbering clock: +My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they jar +Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch, +Whereto my finger, like a dial's point, +Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears. +Now sir, the sound that tells what hour it is +Are clamorous groans, which strike upon my heart, +Which is the bell: so sighs and tears and groans +Show minutes, times, and hours: but my time +Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy, +While I stand fooling here, his Jack o' the clock. +This music mads me; let it sound no more; +For though it have holp madmen to their wits, +In me it seems it will make wise men mad. +Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me! +For 'tis a sign of love; and love to Richard +Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world. + +Groom: +Hail, royal prince! + +KING RICHARD II: +Thanks, noble peer; +The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear. +What art thou? and how comest thou hither, +Where no man never comes but that sad dog +That brings me food to make misfortune live? + +Groom: +I was a poor groom of thy stable, king, +When thou wert king; who, travelling towards York, +With much ado at length have gotten leave +To look upon my sometimes royal master's face. +O, how it yearn'd my heart when I beheld +In London streets, that coronation-day, +When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary, +That horse that thou so often hast bestrid, +That horse that I so carefully have dress'd! + +KING RICHARD II: +Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend, +How went he under him? + +Groom: +So proudly as if he disdain'd the ground. + +KING RICHARD II: +So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back! +That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand; +This hand hath made him proud with clapping him. +Would he not stumble? would he not fall down, +Since pride must have a fall, and break the neck +Of that proud man that did usurp his back? +Forgiveness, horse! why do I rail on thee, +Since thou, created to be awed by man, +Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse; +And yet I bear a burthen like an ass, +Spurr'd, gall'd and tired by jouncing Bolingbroke. + +Keeper: +Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay. + +KING RICHARD II: +If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away. + +Groom: +What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say. + +Keeper: +My lord, will't please you to fall to? + +KING RICHARD II: +Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do. + +Keeper: +My lord, I dare not: Sir Pierce of Exton, who +lately came from the king, commands the contrary. + +KING RICHARD II: +The devil take Henry of Lancaster and thee! +Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. + +Keeper: +Help, help, help! + +KING RICHARD II: +How now! what means death in this rude assault? +Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument. +Go thou, and fill another room in hell. +That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire +That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand +Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own land. +Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high; +Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die. + +EXTON: +As full of valour as of royal blood: +Both have I spill'd; O would the deed were good! +For now the devil, that told me I did well, +Says that this deed is chronicled in hell. +This dead king to the living king I'll bear +Take hence the rest, and give them burial here. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear +Is that the rebels have consumed with fire +Our town of Cicester in Gloucestershire; +But whether they be ta'en or slain we hear not. +Welcome, my lord what is the news? + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiness. +The next news is, I have to London sent +The heads of Oxford, Salisbury, Blunt, and Kent: +The manner of their taking may appear +At large discoursed in this paper here. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains; +And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. + +LORD FITZWATER: +My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London +The heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely, +Two of the dangerous consorted traitors +That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot; +Right noble is thy merit, well I wot. + +HENRY PERCY: +The grand conspirator, Abbot of Westminster, +With clog of conscience and sour melancholy +Hath yielded up his body to the grave; +But here is Carlisle living, to abide +Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Carlisle, this is your doom: +Choose out some secret place, some reverend room, +More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life; +So as thou livest in peace, die free from strife: +For though mine enemy thou hast ever been, +High sparks of honour in thee have I seen. + +EXTON: +Great king, within this coffin I present +Thy buried fear: herein all breathless lies +The mightiest of thy greatest enemies, +Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast wrought +A deed of slander with thy fatal hand +Upon my head and all this famous land. + +EXTON: +From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +They love not poison that do poison need, +Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead, +I hate the murderer, love him murdered. +The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, +But neither my good word nor princely favour: +With Cain go wander through shades of night, +And never show thy head by day nor light. +Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe, +That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow: +Come, mourn with me for that I do lament, +And put on sullen black incontinent: +I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land, +To wash this blood off from my guilty hand: +March sadly after; grace my mournings here; +In weeping after this untimely bier. + + +SAMPSON: +Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals. + +GREGORY: +No, for then we should be colliers. + +SAMPSON: +I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw. + +GREGORY: +Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o' the collar. + +SAMPSON: +I strike quickly, being moved. + +GREGORY: +But thou art not quickly moved to strike. + +SAMPSON: +A dog of the house of Montague moves me. + +GREGORY: +To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand: +therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away. + +SAMPSON: +A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will +take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's. + +GREGORY: +That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes +to the wall. + +SAMPSON: +True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, +are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push +Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids +to the wall. + +GREGORY: +The quarrel is between our masters and us their men. + +SAMPSON: +'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I +have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the +maids, and cut off their heads. + +GREGORY: +The heads of the maids? + +SAMPSON: +Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; +take it in what sense thou wilt. + +GREGORY: +They must take it in sense that feel it. + +SAMPSON: +Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and +'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh. + +GREGORY: +'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou +hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool! here comes +two of the house of the Montagues. + +SAMPSON: +My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee. + +GREGORY: +How! turn thy back and run? + +SAMPSON: +Fear me not. + +GREGORY: +No, marry; I fear thee! + +SAMPSON: +Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin. + +GREGORY: +I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as +they list. + +SAMPSON: +Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them; +which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it. + +ABRAHAM: +Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? + +SAMPSON: +I do bite my thumb, sir. + +ABRAHAM: +Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? + +SAMPSON: + +GREGORY: +No. + +SAMPSON: +No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I +bite my thumb, sir. + +GREGORY: +Do you quarrel, sir? + +ABRAHAM: +Quarrel sir! no, sir. + +SAMPSON: +If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you. + +ABRAHAM: +No better. + +SAMPSON: +Well, sir. + +GREGORY: +Say 'better:' here comes one of my master's kinsmen. + +SAMPSON: +Yes, better, sir. + +ABRAHAM: +You lie. + +SAMPSON: +Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow. + +BENVOLIO: +Part, fools! +Put up your swords; you know not what you do. + +TYBALT: +What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? +Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. + +BENVOLIO: +I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword, +Or manage it to part these men with me. + +TYBALT: +What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word, +As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee: +Have at thee, coward! + +First Citizen: +Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down! +Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues! + +CAPULET: +What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho! + +LADY CAPULET: +A crutch, a crutch! why call you for a sword? + +CAPULET: +My sword, I say! Old Montague is come, +And flourishes his blade in spite of me. + +MONTAGUE: +Thou villain Capulet,--Hold me not, let me go. + +LADY MONTAGUE: +Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe. + +PRINCE: +Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, +Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,-- +Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts, +That quench the fire of your pernicious rage +With purple fountains issuing from your veins, +On pain of torture, from those bloody hands +Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground, +And hear the sentence of your moved prince. +Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, +By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, +Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets, +And made Verona's ancient citizens +Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, +To wield old partisans, in hands as old, +Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate: +If ever you disturb our streets again, +Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. +For this time, all the rest depart away: +You Capulet; shall go along with me: +And, Montague, come you this afternoon, +To know our further pleasure in this case, +To old Free-town, our common judgment-place. +Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. + +MONTAGUE: +Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? +Speak, nephew, were you by when it began? + +BENVOLIO: +Here were the servants of your adversary, +And yours, close fighting ere I did approach: +I drew to part them: in the instant came +The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared, +Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears, +He swung about his head and cut the winds, +Who nothing hurt withal hiss'd him in scorn: +While we were interchanging thrusts and blows, +Came more and more and fought on part and part, +Till the prince came, who parted either part. + +LADY MONTAGUE: +O, where is Romeo? saw you him to-day? +Right glad I am he was not at this fray. + +BENVOLIO: +Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun +Peer'd forth the golden window of the east, +A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad; +Where, underneath the grove of sycamore +That westward rooteth from the city's side, +So early walking did I see your son: +Towards him I made, but he was ware of me +And stole into the covert of the wood: +I, measuring his affections by my own, +That most are busied when they're most alone, +Pursued my humour not pursuing his, +And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me. + +MONTAGUE: +Many a morning hath he there been seen, +With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew. +Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs; +But all so soon as the all-cheering sun +Should in the furthest east begin to draw +The shady curtains from Aurora's bed, +Away from the light steals home my heavy son, +And private in his chamber pens himself, +Shuts up his windows, locks far daylight out +And makes himself an artificial night: +Black and portentous must this humour prove, +Unless good counsel may the cause remove. + +BENVOLIO: +My noble uncle, do you know the cause? + +MONTAGUE: +I neither know it nor can learn of him. + +BENVOLIO: +Have you importuned him by any means? + +MONTAGUE: +Both by myself and many other friends: +But he, his own affections' counsellor, +Is to himself--I will not say how true-- +But to himself so secret and so close, +So far from sounding and discovery, +As is the bud bit with an envious worm, +Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, +Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. +Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow. +We would as willingly give cure as know. + +BENVOLIO: +See, where he comes: so please you, step aside; +I'll know his grievance, or be much denied. + +MONTAGUE: +I would thou wert so happy by thy stay, +To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away. + +BENVOLIO: +Good-morrow, cousin. + +ROMEO: +Is the day so young? + +BENVOLIO: +But new struck nine. + +ROMEO: +Ay me! sad hours seem long. +Was that my father that went hence so fast? + +BENVOLIO: +It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? + +ROMEO: +Not having that, which, having, makes them short. + +BENVOLIO: +In love? + +ROMEO: +Out-- + +BENVOLIO: +Of love? + +ROMEO: +Out of her favour, where I am in love. + +BENVOLIO: +Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, +Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! + +ROMEO: +Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, +Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! +Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here? +Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. +Here's much to do with hate, but more with love. +Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate! +O any thing, of nothing first create! +O heavy lightness! serious vanity! +Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms! +Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, +sick health! +Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! +This love feel I, that feel no love in this. +Dost thou not laugh? + +BENVOLIO: +No, coz, I rather weep. + +ROMEO: +Good heart, at what? + +BENVOLIO: +At thy good heart's oppression. + +ROMEO: +Why, such is love's transgression. +Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, +Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest +With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown +Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. +Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; +Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; +Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears: +What is it else? a madness most discreet, +A choking gall and a preserving sweet. +Farewell, my coz. + +BENVOLIO: +Soft! I will go along; +An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. + +ROMEO: +Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here; +This is not Romeo, he's some other where. + +BENVOLIO: +Tell me in sadness, who is that you love. + +ROMEO: +What, shall I groan and tell thee? + +BENVOLIO: +Groan! why, no. +But sadly tell me who. + +ROMEO: +Bid a sick man in sadness make his will: +Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill! +In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. + +BENVOLIO: +I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved. + +ROMEO: +A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love. + +BENVOLIO: +A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. + +ROMEO: +Well, in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit +With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian's wit; +And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, +From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. +She will not stay the siege of loving terms, +Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, +Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: +O, she is rich in beauty, only poor, +That when she dies with beauty dies her store. + +BENVOLIO: +Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste? + +ROMEO: +She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste, +For beauty starved with her severity +Cuts beauty off from all posterity. +She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair, +To merit bliss by making me despair: +She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow +Do I live dead that live to tell it now. + +BENVOLIO: +Be ruled by me, forget to think of her. + +ROMEO: +O, teach me how I should forget to think. + +BENVOLIO: +By giving liberty unto thine eyes; +Examine other beauties. + +ROMEO: +'Tis the way +To call hers exquisite, in question more: +These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows +Being black put us in mind they hide the fair; +He that is strucken blind cannot forget +The precious treasure of his eyesight lost: +Show me a mistress that is passing fair, +What doth her beauty serve, but as a note +Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair? +Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget. + +BENVOLIO: +I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. + +CAPULET: +But Montague is bound as well as I, +In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think, +For men so old as we to keep the peace. + +PARIS: +Of honourable reckoning are you both; +And pity 'tis you lived at odds so long. +But now, my lord, what say you to my suit? + +CAPULET: +But saying o'er what I have said before: +My child is yet a stranger in the world; +She hath not seen the change of fourteen years, +Let two more summers wither in their pride, +Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. + +PARIS: +Younger than she are happy mothers made. + +CAPULET: +And too soon marr'd are those so early made. +The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she, +She is the hopeful lady of my earth: +But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, +My will to her consent is but a part; +An she agree, within her scope of choice +Lies my consent and fair according voice. +This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, +Whereto I have invited many a guest, +Such as I love; and you, among the store, +One more, most welcome, makes my number more. +At my poor house look to behold this night +Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light: +Such comfort as do lusty young men feel +When well-apparell'd April on the heel +Of limping winter treads, even such delight +Among fresh female buds shall you this night +Inherit at my house; hear all, all see, +And like her most whose merit most shall be: +Which on more view, of many mine being one +May stand in number, though in reckoning none, +Come, go with me. +Go, sirrah, trudge about +Through fair Verona; find those persons out +Whose names are written there, and to them say, +My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. + +Servant: +Find them out whose names are written here! It is +written, that the shoemaker should meddle with his +yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with +his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am +sent to find those persons whose names are here +writ, and can never find what names the writing +person hath here writ. I must to the learned.--In good time. + +BENVOLIO: +Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning, +One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish; +Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; +One desperate grief cures with another's languish: +Take thou some new infection to thy eye, +And the rank poison of the old will die. + +ROMEO: +Your plaintain-leaf is excellent for that. + +BENVOLIO: +For what, I pray thee? + +ROMEO: +For your broken shin. + +BENVOLIO: +Why, Romeo, art thou mad? + +ROMEO: +Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man is; +Shut up in prison, kept without my food, +Whipp'd and tormented and--God-den, good fellow. + +Servant: +God gi' god-den. I pray, sir, can you read? + +ROMEO: +Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. + +Servant: +Perhaps you have learned it without book: but, I +pray, can you read any thing you see? + +ROMEO: +Ay, if I know the letters and the language. + +Servant: +Ye say honestly: rest you merry! + +ROMEO: +Stay, fellow; I can read. +'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters; +County Anselme and his beauteous sisters; the lady +widow of Vitravio; Signior Placentio and his lovely +nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; mine +uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; my fair niece +Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio and his cousin +Tybalt, Lucio and the lively Helena.' A fair +assembly: whither should they come? + +Servant: +Up. + +ROMEO: +Whither? + +Servant: +To supper; to our house. + +ROMEO: +Whose house? + +Servant: +My master's. + +ROMEO: +Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before. + +Servant: +Now I'll tell you without asking: my master is the +great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house +of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine. +Rest you merry! + +BENVOLIO: +At this same ancient feast of Capulet's +Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest, +With all the admired beauties of Verona: +Go thither; and, with unattainted eye, +Compare her face with some that I shall show, +And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. + +ROMEO: +When the devout religion of mine eye +Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires; +And these, who often drown'd could never die, +Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! +One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun +Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun. + +BENVOLIO: +Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by, +Herself poised with herself in either eye: +But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd +Your lady's love against some other maid +That I will show you shining at this feast, +And she shall scant show well that now shows best. + +ROMEO: +I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, +But to rejoice in splendor of mine own. + +LADY CAPULET: +Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me. + +Nurse: +Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old, +I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird! +God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet! + +JULIET: +How now! who calls? + +Nurse: +Your mother. + +JULIET: +Madam, I am here. +What is your will? + +LADY CAPULET: +This is the matter:--Nurse, give leave awhile, +We must talk in secret:--nurse, come back again; +I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel. +Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age. + +Nurse: +Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. + +LADY CAPULET: +She's not fourteen. + +Nurse: +I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,-- +And yet, to my teeth be it spoken, I have but four-- +She is not fourteen. How long is it now +To Lammas-tide? + +LADY CAPULET: +A fortnight and odd days. + +Nurse: +Even or odd, of all days in the year, +Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen. +Susan and she--God rest all Christian souls!-- +Were of an age: well, Susan is with God; +She was too good for me: but, as I said, +On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen; +That shall she, marry; I remember it well. +'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years; +And she was wean'd,--I never shall forget it,-- +Of all the days of the year, upon that day: +For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, +Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall; +My lord and you were then at Mantua:-- +Nay, I do bear a brain:--but, as I said, +When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple +Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool, +To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug! +Shake quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow, +To bid me trudge: +And since that time it is eleven years; +For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood, +She could have run and waddled all about; +For even the day before, she broke her brow: +And then my husband--God be with his soul! +A' was a merry man--took up the child: +'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face? +Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit; +Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidame, +The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.' +To see, now, how a jest shall come about! +I warrant, an I should live a thousand years, +I never should forget it: 'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he; +And, pretty fool, it stinted and said 'Ay.' + +LADY CAPULET: +Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace. + +Nurse: +Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh, +To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.' +And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow +A bump as big as a young cockerel's stone; +A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly: +'Yea,' quoth my husband,'fall'st upon thy face? +Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age; +Wilt thou not, Jule?' it stinted and said 'Ay.' + +JULIET: +And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I. + +Nurse: +Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace! +Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed: +An I might live to see thee married once, +I have my wish. + +LADY CAPULET: +Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme +I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, +How stands your disposition to be married? + +JULIET: +It is an honour that I dream not of. + +Nurse: +An honour! were not I thine only nurse, +I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat. + +LADY CAPULET: +Well, think of marriage now; younger than you, +Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, +Are made already mothers: by my count, +I was your mother much upon these years +That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief: +The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. + +Nurse: +A man, young lady! lady, such a man +As all the world--why, he's a man of wax. + +LADY CAPULET: +Verona's summer hath not such a flower. + +Nurse: +Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower. + +LADY CAPULET: +What say you? can you love the gentleman? +This night you shall behold him at our feast; +Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face, +And find delight writ there with beauty's pen; +Examine every married lineament, +And see how one another lends content +And what obscured in this fair volume lies +Find written in the margent of his eyes. +This precious book of love, this unbound lover, +To beautify him, only lacks a cover: +The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride +For fair without the fair within to hide: +That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, +That in gold clasps locks in the golden story; +So shall you share all that he doth possess, +By having him, making yourself no less. + +Nurse: +No less! nay, bigger; women grow by men. + +LADY CAPULET: +Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love? + +JULIET: +I'll look to like, if looking liking move: +But no more deep will I endart mine eye +Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. + +Servant: +Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you +called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in +the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must +hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight. + +LADY CAPULET: +We follow thee. +Juliet, the county stays. + +Nurse: +Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. + +ROMEO: +What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? +Or shall we on without a apology? + +BENVOLIO: +The date is out of such prolixity: +We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf, +Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, +Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper; +Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke +After the prompter, for our entrance: +But let them measure us by what they will; +We'll measure them a measure, and be gone. + +ROMEO: +Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling; +Being but heavy, I will bear the light. + +MERCUTIO: +Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. + +ROMEO: +Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes +With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead +So stakes me to the ground I cannot move. + +MERCUTIO: +You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings, +And soar with them above a common bound. + +ROMEO: +I am too sore enpierced with his shaft +To soar with his light feathers, and so bound, +I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe: +Under love's heavy burden do I sink. + +MERCUTIO: +And, to sink in it, should you burden love; +Too great oppression for a tender thing. + +ROMEO: +Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, +Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn. + +MERCUTIO: +If love be rough with you, be rough with love; +Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. +Give me a case to put my visage in: +A visor for a visor! what care I +What curious eye doth quote deformities? +Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me. + +BENVOLIO: +Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in, +But every man betake him to his legs. + +ROMEO: +A torch for me: let wantons light of heart +Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels, +For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase; +I'll be a candle-holder, and look on. +The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done. + +MERCUTIO: +Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word: +If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire +Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st +Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho! + +ROMEO: +Nay, that's not so. + +MERCUTIO: +I mean, sir, in delay +We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. +Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits +Five times in that ere once in our five wits. + +ROMEO: +And we mean well in going to this mask; +But 'tis no wit to go. + +MERCUTIO: +Why, may one ask? + +ROMEO: +I dream'd a dream to-night. + +MERCUTIO: +And so did I. + +ROMEO: +Well, what was yours? + +MERCUTIO: +That dreamers often lie. + +ROMEO: +In bed asleep, while they do dream things true. + +MERCUTIO: +O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. +She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes +In shape no bigger than an agate-stone +On the fore-finger of an alderman, +Drawn with a team of little atomies +Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep; +Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs, +The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, +The traces of the smallest spider's web, +The collars of the moonshine's watery beams, +Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film, +Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat, +Not so big as a round little worm +Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid; +Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut +Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, +Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers. +And in this state she gallops night by night +Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; +O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight, +O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees, +O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream, +Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, +Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are: +Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, +And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; +And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail +Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep, +Then dreams, he of another benefice: +Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, +And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, +Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, +Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon +Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, +And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two +And sleeps again. This is that very Mab +That plats the manes of horses in the night, +And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs, +Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes: +This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, +That presses them and learns them first to bear, +Making them women of good carriage: +This is she-- + +ROMEO: +Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! +Thou talk'st of nothing. + +MERCUTIO: +True, I talk of dreams, +Which are the children of an idle brain, +Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, +Which is as thin of substance as the air +And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes +Even now the frozen bosom of the north, +And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, +Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. + +BENVOLIO: +This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves; +Supper is done, and we shall come too late. + +ROMEO: +I fear, too early: for my mind misgives +Some consequence yet hanging in the stars +Shall bitterly begin his fearful date +With this night's revels and expire the term +Of a despised life closed in my breast +By some vile forfeit of untimely death. +But He, that hath the steerage of my course, +Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen. + +BENVOLIO: +Strike, drum. + +First Servant: +Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He +shift a trencher? he scrape a trencher! + +Second Servant: +When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's +hands and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing. + +First Servant: +Away with the joint-stools, remove the +court-cupboard, look to the plate. Good thou, save +me a piece of marchpane; and, as thou lovest me, let +the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell. +Antony, and Potpan! + +Second Servant: +Ay, boy, ready. + +First Servant: +You are looked for and called for, asked for and +sought for, in the great chamber. + +Second Servant: +We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys; be +brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all. + +CAPULET: +Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have their toes +Unplagued with corns will have a bout with you. +Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all +Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty, +She, I'll swear, hath corns; am I come near ye now? +Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day +That I have worn a visor and could tell +A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, +Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone: +You are welcome, gentlemen! come, musicians, play. +A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls. +More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up, +And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot. +Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well. +Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet; +For you and I are past our dancing days: +How long is't now since last yourself and I +Were in a mask? + +Second Capulet: +By'r lady, thirty years. + +CAPULET: +What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much: +'Tis since the nuptials of Lucentio, +Come pentecost as quickly as it will, +Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd. + +Second Capulet: +'Tis more, 'tis more, his son is elder, sir; +His son is thirty. + +CAPULET: +Will you tell me that? +His son was but a ward two years ago. + +ROMEO: + +Servant: +I know not, sir. + +ROMEO: +O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! +It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night +Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear; +Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! +So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, +As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. +The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, +And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. +Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! +For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. + +TYBALT: +This, by his voice, should be a Montague. +Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave +Come hither, cover'd with an antic face, +To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? +Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, +To strike him dead, I hold it not a sin. + +CAPULET: +Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so? + +TYBALT: +Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe, +A villain that is hither come in spite, +To scorn at our solemnity this night. + +CAPULET: +Young Romeo is it? + +TYBALT: +'Tis he, that villain Romeo. + +CAPULET: +Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone; +He bears him like a portly gentleman; +And, to say truth, Verona brags of him +To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth: +I would not for the wealth of all the town +Here in my house do him disparagement: +Therefore be patient, take no note of him: +It is my will, the which if thou respect, +Show a fair presence and put off these frowns, +And ill-beseeming semblance for a feast. + +TYBALT: +It fits, when such a villain is a guest: +I'll not endure him. + +CAPULET: +He shall be endured: +What, goodman boy! I say, he shall: go to; +Am I the master here, or you? go to. +You'll not endure him! God shall mend my soul! +You'll make a mutiny among my guests! +You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man! + +TYBALT: +Why, uncle, 'tis a shame. + +CAPULET: +Go to, go to; +You are a saucy boy: is't so, indeed? +This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what: +You must contrary me! marry, 'tis time. +Well said, my hearts! You are a princox; go: +Be quiet, or--More light, more light! For shame! +I'll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts! + +TYBALT: +Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting +Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. +I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall +Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall. + +ROMEO: + +JULIET: +Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, +Which mannerly devotion shows in this; +For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, +And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. + +ROMEO: +Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? + +JULIET: +Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. + +ROMEO: +O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; +They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. + +JULIET: +Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake. + +ROMEO: +Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. +Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged. + +JULIET: +Then have my lips the sin that they have took. + +ROMEO: +Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! +Give me my sin again. + +JULIET: +You kiss by the book. + +Nurse: +Madam, your mother craves a word with you. + +ROMEO: +What is her mother? + +Nurse: +Marry, bachelor, +Her mother is the lady of the house, +And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous +I nursed her daughter, that you talk'd withal; +I tell you, he that can lay hold of her +Shall have the chinks. + +ROMEO: +Is she a Capulet? +O dear account! my life is my foe's debt. + +BENVOLIO: +Away, begone; the sport is at the best. + +ROMEO: +Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest. + +CAPULET: +Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone; +We have a trifling foolish banquet towards. +Is it e'en so? why, then, I thank you all +I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night. +More torches here! Come on then, let's to bed. +Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late: +I'll to my rest. + +JULIET: +Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman? + +Nurse: +The son and heir of old Tiberio. + +JULIET: +What's he that now is going out of door? + +Nurse: +Marry, that, I think, be young Petrucio. + +JULIET: +What's he that follows there, that would not dance? + +Nurse: +I know not. + +JULIET: +Go ask his name: if he be married. +My grave is like to be my wedding bed. + +Nurse: +His name is Romeo, and a Montague; +The only son of your great enemy. + +JULIET: +My only love sprung from my only hate! +Too early seen unknown, and known too late! +Prodigious birth of love it is to me, +That I must love a loathed enemy. + +Nurse: +What's this? what's this? + +JULIET: +A rhyme I learn'd even now +Of one I danced withal. + +Nurse: +Anon, anon! +Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone. + +Chorus: +Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie, +And young affection gapes to be his heir; +That fair for which love groan'd for and would die, +With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair. +Now Romeo is beloved and loves again, +Alike betwitched by the charm of looks, +But to his foe supposed he must complain, +And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks: +Being held a foe, he may not have access +To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear; +And she as much in love, her means much less +To meet her new-beloved any where: +But passion lends them power, time means, to meet +Tempering extremities with extreme sweet. + +ROMEO: +Can I go forward when my heart is here? +Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. + +BENVOLIO: +Romeo! my cousin Romeo! + +MERCUTIO: +He is wise; +And, on my lie, hath stol'n him home to bed. + +BENVOLIO: +He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall: +Call, good Mercutio. + +MERCUTIO: +Nay, I'll conjure too. +Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover! +Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh: +Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied; +Cry but 'Ay me!' pronounce but 'love' and 'dove;' +Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, +One nick-name for her purblind son and heir, +Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim, +When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid! +He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not; +The ape is dead, and I must conjure him. +I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes, +By her high forehead and her scarlet lip, +By her fine foot, straight leg and quivering thigh +And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, +That in thy likeness thou appear to us! + +BENVOLIO: +And if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. + +MERCUTIO: +This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him +To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle +Of some strange nature, letting it there stand +Till she had laid it and conjured it down; +That were some spite: my invocation +Is fair and honest, and in his mistress' name +I conjure only but to raise up him. + +BENVOLIO: +Come, he hath hid himself among these trees, +To be consorted with the humorous night: +Blind is his love and best befits the dark. + +MERCUTIO: +If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. +Now will he sit under a medlar tree, +And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit +As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone. +Romeo, that she were, O, that she were +An open et caetera, thou a poperin pear! +Romeo, good night: I'll to my truckle-bed; +This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep: +Come, shall we go? + +BENVOLIO: +Go, then; for 'tis in vain +To seek him here that means not to be found. + +ROMEO: +He jests at scars that never felt a wound. +But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? +It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. +Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, +Who is already sick and pale with grief, +That thou her maid art far more fair than she: +Be not her maid, since she is envious; +Her vestal livery is but sick and green +And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. +It is my lady, O, it is my love! +O, that she knew she were! +She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that? +Her eye discourses; I will answer it. +I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks: +Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, +Having some business, do entreat her eyes +To twinkle in their spheres till they return. +What if her eyes were there, they in her head? +The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, +As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven +Would through the airy region stream so bright +That birds would sing and think it were not night. +See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! +O, that I were a glove upon that hand, +That I might touch that cheek! + +JULIET: +Ay me! + +ROMEO: +She speaks: +O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art +As glorious to this night, being o'er my head +As is a winged messenger of heaven +Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes +Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him +When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds +And sails upon the bosom of the air. + +JULIET: +O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? +Deny thy father and refuse thy name; +Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, +And I'll no longer be a Capulet. + +ROMEO: + +JULIET: +'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; +Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. +What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, +Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part +Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! +What's in a name? that which we call a rose +By any other name would smell as sweet; +So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, +Retain that dear perfection which he owes +Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, +And for that name which is no part of thee +Take all myself. + +ROMEO: +I take thee at thy word: +Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; +Henceforth I never will be Romeo. + +JULIET: +What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night +So stumblest on my counsel? + +ROMEO: +By a name +I know not how to tell thee who I am: +My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, +Because it is an enemy to thee; +Had I it written, I would tear the word. + +JULIET: +My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words +Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound: +Art thou not Romeo and a Montague? + +ROMEO: +Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. + +JULIET: +How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? +The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, +And the place death, considering who thou art, +If any of my kinsmen find thee here. + +ROMEO: +With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; +For stony limits cannot hold love out, +And what love can do that dares love attempt; +Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me. + +JULIET: +If they do see thee, they will murder thee. + +ROMEO: +Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye +Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet, +And I am proof against their enmity. + +JULIET: +I would not for the world they saw thee here. + +ROMEO: +I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight; +And but thou love me, let them find me here: +My life were better ended by their hate, +Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. + +JULIET: +By whose direction found'st thou out this place? + +ROMEO: +By love, who first did prompt me to inquire; +He lent me counsel and I lent him eyes. +I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far +As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea, +I would adventure for such merchandise. + +JULIET: +Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, +Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek +For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night +Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny +What I have spoke: but farewell compliment! +Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,' +And I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st, +Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries +Then say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, +If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully: +Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, +I'll frown and be perverse an say thee nay, +So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world. +In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond, +And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light: +But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true +Than those that have more cunning to be strange. +I should have been more strange, I must confess, +But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware, +My true love's passion: therefore pardon me, +And not impute this yielding to light love, +Which the dark night hath so discovered. + +ROMEO: +Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear +That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops-- + +JULIET: +O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, +That monthly changes in her circled orb, +Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. + +ROMEO: +What shall I swear by? + +JULIET: +Do not swear at all; +Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, +Which is the god of my idolatry, +And I'll believe thee. + +ROMEO: +If my heart's dear love-- + +JULIET: +Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, +I have no joy of this contract to-night: +It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden; +Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be +Ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night! +This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, +May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. +Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest +Come to thy heart as that within my breast! + +ROMEO: +O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? + +JULIET: +What satisfaction canst thou have to-night? + +ROMEO: +The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine. + +JULIET: +I gave thee mine before thou didst request it: +And yet I would it were to give again. + +ROMEO: +Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love? + +JULIET: +But to be frank, and give it thee again. +And yet I wish but for the thing I have: +My bounty is as boundless as the sea, +My love as deep; the more I give to thee, +The more I have, for both are infinite. +I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu! +Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true. +Stay but a little, I will come again. + +ROMEO: +O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard. +Being in night, all this is but a dream, +Too flattering-sweet to be substantial. + +JULIET: +Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed. +If that thy bent of love be honourable, +Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, +By one that I'll procure to come to thee, +Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite; +And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay +And follow thee my lord throughout the world. + +Nurse: + +JULIET: +I come, anon.--But if thou mean'st not well, +I do beseech thee-- + +Nurse: + +JULIET: +By and by, I come:-- +To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief: +To-morrow will I send. + +ROMEO: +So thrive my soul-- + +JULIET: +A thousand times good night! + +ROMEO: +A thousand times the worse, to want thy light. +Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from +their books, +But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. + +JULIET: +Hist! Romeo, hist! O, for a falconer's voice, +To lure this tassel-gentle back again! +Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud; +Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, +And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine, +With repetition of my Romeo's name. + +ROMEO: +It is my soul that calls upon my name: +How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, +Like softest music to attending ears! + +JULIET: +Romeo! + +ROMEO: +My dear? + +JULIET: +At what o'clock to-morrow +Shall I send to thee? + +ROMEO: +At the hour of nine. + +JULIET: +I will not fail: 'tis twenty years till then. +I have forgot why I did call thee back. + +ROMEO: +Let me stand here till thou remember it. + +JULIET: +I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, +Remembering how I love thy company. + +ROMEO: +And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, +Forgetting any other home but this. + +JULIET: +'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone: +And yet no further than a wanton's bird; +Who lets it hop a little from her hand, +Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, +And with a silk thread plucks it back again, +So loving-jealous of his liberty. + +ROMEO: +I would I were thy bird. + +JULIET: +Sweet, so would I: +Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. +Good night, good night! parting is such +sweet sorrow, +That I shall say good night till it be morrow. + +ROMEO: +Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast! +Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest! +Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell, +His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night, +Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light, +And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels +From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels: +Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye, +The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry, +I must up-fill this osier cage of ours +With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers. +The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb; +What is her burying grave that is her womb, +And from her womb children of divers kind +We sucking on her natural bosom find, +Many for many virtues excellent, +None but for some and yet all different. +O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies +In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities: +For nought so vile that on the earth doth live +But to the earth some special good doth give, +Nor aught so good but strain'd from that fair use +Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse: +Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied; +And vice sometimes by action dignified. +Within the infant rind of this small flower +Poison hath residence and medicine power: +For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part; +Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart. +Two such opposed kings encamp them still +In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will; +And where the worser is predominant, +Full soon the canker death eats up that plant. + +ROMEO: +Good morrow, father. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Benedicite! +What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? +Young son, it argues a distemper'd head +So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed: +Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, +And where care lodges, sleep will never lie; +But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain +Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign: +Therefore thy earliness doth me assure +Thou art up-roused by some distemperature; +Or if not so, then here I hit it right, +Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night. + +ROMEO: +That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline? + +ROMEO: +With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no; +I have forgot that name, and that name's woe. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +That's my good son: but where hast thou been, then? + +ROMEO: +I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again. +I have been feasting with mine enemy, +Where on a sudden one hath wounded me, +That's by me wounded: both our remedies +Within thy help and holy physic lies: +I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo, +My intercession likewise steads my foe. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift; +Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. + +ROMEO: +Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set +On the fair daughter of rich Capulet: +As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine; +And all combined, save what thou must combine +By holy marriage: when and where and how +We met, we woo'd and made exchange of vow, +I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray, +That thou consent to marry us to-day. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here! +Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear, +So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies +Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. +Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine +Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline! +How much salt water thrown away in waste, +To season love, that of it doth not taste! +The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears, +Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears; +Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit +Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet: +If e'er thou wast thyself and these woes thine, +Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline: +And art thou changed? pronounce this sentence then, +Women may fall, when there's no strength in men. + +ROMEO: +Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +For doting, not for loving, pupil mine. + +ROMEO: +And bad'st me bury love. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Not in a grave, +To lay one in, another out to have. + +ROMEO: +I pray thee, chide not; she whom I love now +Doth grace for grace and love for love allow; +The other did not so. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +O, she knew well +Thy love did read by rote and could not spell. +But come, young waverer, come, go with me, +In one respect I'll thy assistant be; +For this alliance may so happy prove, +To turn your households' rancour to pure love. + +ROMEO: +O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast. + +MERCUTIO: +Where the devil should this Romeo be? +Came he not home to-night? + +BENVOLIO: +Not to his father's; I spoke with his man. + +MERCUTIO: +Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline. +Torments him so, that he will sure run mad. + +BENVOLIO: +Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet, +Hath sent a letter to his father's house. + +MERCUTIO: +A challenge, on my life. + +BENVOLIO: +Romeo will answer it. + +MERCUTIO: +Any man that can write may answer a letter. + +BENVOLIO: +Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he +dares, being dared. + +MERCUTIO: +Alas poor Romeo! he is already dead; stabbed with a +white wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a +love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the +blind bow-boy's butt-shaft: and is he a man to +encounter Tybalt? + +BENVOLIO: +Why, what is Tybalt? + +MERCUTIO: +More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O, he is +the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as +you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and +proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and +the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk +button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the +very first house, of the first and second cause: +ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the +hai! + +BENVOLIO: +The what? + +MERCUTIO: +The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting +fantasticoes; these new tuners of accents! 'By Jesu, +a very good blade! a very tall man! a very good +whore!' Why, is not this a lamentable thing, +grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with +these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these +perdona-mi's, who stand so much on the new form, +that they cannot at ease on the old bench? O, their +bones, their bones! + +BENVOLIO: +Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo. + +MERCUTIO: +Without his roe, like a dried herring: flesh, flesh, +how art thou fishified! Now is he for the numbers +that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his lady was but a +kitchen-wench; marry, she had a better love to +be-rhyme her; Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a gipsy; +Helen and Hero hildings and harlots; Thisbe a grey +eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior +Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation +to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit +fairly last night. + +ROMEO: +Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you? + +MERCUTIO: +The ship, sir, the slip; can you not conceive? + +ROMEO: +Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and in +such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy. + +MERCUTIO: +That's as much as to say, such a case as yours +constrains a man to bow in the hams. + +ROMEO: +Meaning, to court'sy. + +MERCUTIO: +Thou hast most kindly hit it. + +ROMEO: +A most courteous exposition. + +MERCUTIO: +Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy. + +ROMEO: +Pink for flower. + +MERCUTIO: +Right. + +ROMEO: +Why, then is my pump well flowered. + +MERCUTIO: +Well said: follow me this jest now till thou hast +worn out thy pump, that when the single sole of it +is worn, the jest may remain after the wearing sole singular. + +ROMEO: +O single-soled jest, solely singular for the +singleness. + +MERCUTIO: +Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint. + +ROMEO: +Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll cry a match. + +MERCUTIO: +Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I have +done, for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of +thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five: +was I with you there for the goose? + +ROMEO: +Thou wast never with me for any thing when thou wast +not there for the goose. + +MERCUTIO: +I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. + +ROMEO: +Nay, good goose, bite not. + +MERCUTIO: +Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most +sharp sauce. + +ROMEO: +And is it not well served in to a sweet goose? + +MERCUTIO: +O here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an +inch narrow to an ell broad! + +ROMEO: +I stretch it out for that word 'broad;' which added +to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose. + +MERCUTIO: +Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? +now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; now art +thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature: +for this drivelling love is like a great natural, +that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole. + +BENVOLIO: +Stop there, stop there. + +MERCUTIO: +Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair. + +BENVOLIO: +Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large. + +MERCUTIO: +O, thou art deceived; I would have made it short: +for I was come to the whole depth of my tale; and +meant, indeed, to occupy the argument no longer. + +ROMEO: +Here's goodly gear! + +MERCUTIO: +A sail, a sail! + +BENVOLIO: +Two, two; a shirt and a smock. + +Nurse: +Peter! + +PETER: +Anon! + +Nurse: +My fan, Peter. + +MERCUTIO: +Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the +fairer face. + +Nurse: +God ye good morrow, gentlemen. + +MERCUTIO: +God ye good den, fair gentlewoman. + +Nurse: +Is it good den? + +MERCUTIO: +'Tis no less, I tell you, for the bawdy hand of the +dial is now upon the prick of noon. + +Nurse: +Out upon you! what a man are you! + +ROMEO: +One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to +mar. + +Nurse: +By my troth, it is well said; 'for himself to mar,' +quoth a'? Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I +may find the young Romeo? + +ROMEO: +I can tell you; but young Romeo will be older when +you have found him than he was when you sought him: +I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse. + +Nurse: +You say well. + +MERCUTIO: +Yea, is the worst well? very well took, i' faith; +wisely, wisely. + +Nurse: +if you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with +you. + +BENVOLIO: +She will indite him to some supper. + +MERCUTIO: +A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! so ho! + +ROMEO: +What hast thou found? + +MERCUTIO: +No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, +that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent. +An old hare hoar, +And an old hare hoar, +Is very good meat in lent +But a hare that is hoar +Is too much for a score, +When it hoars ere it be spent. +Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll +to dinner, thither. + +ROMEO: +I will follow you. + +MERCUTIO: +Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, +'lady, lady, lady.' + +Nurse: +Marry, farewell! I pray you, sir, what saucy +merchant was this, that was so full of his ropery? + +ROMEO: +A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk, +and will speak more in a minute than he will stand +to in a month. + +Nurse: +An a' speak any thing against me, I'll take him +down, an a' were lustier than he is, and twenty such +Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall. +Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I am +none of his skains-mates. And thou must stand by +too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure? + +PETER: +I saw no man use you a pleasure; if I had, my weapon +should quickly have been out, I warrant you: I dare +draw as soon as another man, if I see occasion in a +good quarrel, and the law on my side. + +Nurse: +Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that every part about +me quivers. Scurvy knave! Pray you, sir, a word: +and as I told you, my young lady bade me inquire you +out; what she bade me say, I will keep to myself: +but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into +a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross +kind of behavior, as they say: for the gentlewoman +is young; and, therefore, if you should deal double +with her, truly it were an ill thing to be offered +to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing. + +ROMEO: +Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I +protest unto thee-- + +Nurse: +Good heart, and, i' faith, I will tell her as much: +Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful woman. + +ROMEO: +What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost not mark me. + +Nurse: +I will tell her, sir, that you do protest; which, as +I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer. + +ROMEO: +Bid her devise +Some means to come to shrift this afternoon; +And there she shall at Friar Laurence' cell +Be shrived and married. Here is for thy pains. + +Nurse: +No truly sir; not a penny. + +ROMEO: +Go to; I say you shall. + +Nurse: +This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there. + +ROMEO: +And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey wall: +Within this hour my man shall be with thee +And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair; +Which to the high top-gallant of my joy +Must be my convoy in the secret night. +Farewell; be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains: +Farewell; commend me to thy mistress. + +Nurse: +Now God in heaven bless thee! Hark you, sir. + +ROMEO: +What say'st thou, my dear nurse? + +Nurse: +Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say, +Two may keep counsel, putting one away? + +ROMEO: +I warrant thee, my man's as true as steel. + +NURSE: +Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady--Lord, +Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing:--O, there +is a nobleman in town, one Paris, that would fain +lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had as lief +see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her +sometimes and tell her that Paris is the properer +man; but, I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks +as pale as any clout in the versal world. Doth not +rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter? + +ROMEO: +Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R. + +Nurse: +Ah. mocker! that's the dog's name; R is for +the--No; I know it begins with some other +letter:--and she hath the prettiest sententious of +it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good +to hear it. + +ROMEO: +Commend me to thy lady. + +Nurse: +Ay, a thousand times. +Peter! + +PETER: +Anon! + +Nurse: +Peter, take my fan, and go before and apace. + +JULIET: +The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse; +In half an hour she promised to return. +Perchance she cannot meet him: that's not so. +O, she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts, +Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams, +Driving back shadows over louring hills: +Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love, +And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. +Now is the sun upon the highmost hill +Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve +Is three long hours, yet she is not come. +Had she affections and warm youthful blood, +She would be as swift in motion as a ball; +My words would bandy her to my sweet love, +And his to me: +But old folks, many feign as they were dead; +Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead. +O God, she comes! +O honey nurse, what news? +Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away. + +Nurse: +Peter, stay at the gate. + +JULIET: +Now, good sweet nurse,--O Lord, why look'st thou sad? +Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily; +If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news +By playing it to me with so sour a face. + +Nurse: +I am a-weary, give me leave awhile: +Fie, how my bones ache! what a jaunt have I had! + +JULIET: +I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news: +Nay, come, I pray thee, speak; good, good nurse, speak. + +Nurse: +Jesu, what haste? can you not stay awhile? +Do you not see that I am out of breath? + +JULIET: +How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath +To say to me that thou art out of breath? +The excuse that thou dost make in this delay +Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse. +Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that; +Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance: +Let me be satisfied, is't good or bad? + +Nurse: +Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not +how to choose a man: Romeo! no, not he; though his +face be better than any man's, yet his leg excels +all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body, +though they be not to be talked on, yet they are +past compare: he is not the flower of courtesy, +but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. Go thy +ways, wench; serve God. What, have you dined at home? + +JULIET: +No, no: but all this did I know before. +What says he of our marriage? what of that? + +Nurse: +Lord, how my head aches! what a head have I! +It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. +My back o' t' other side,--O, my back, my back! +Beshrew your heart for sending me about, +To catch my death with jaunting up and down! + +JULIET: +I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well. +Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love? + +Nurse: +Your love says, like an honest gentleman, and a +courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, and, I +warrant, a virtuous,--Where is your mother? + +JULIET: +Where is my mother! why, she is within; +Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest! +'Your love says, like an honest gentleman, +Where is your mother?' + +Nurse: +O God's lady dear! +Are you so hot? marry, come up, I trow; +Is this the poultice for my aching bones? +Henceforward do your messages yourself. + +JULIET: +Here's such a coil! come, what says Romeo? + +Nurse: +Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day? + +JULIET: +I have. + +Nurse: +Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' cell; +There stays a husband to make you a wife: +Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks, +They'll be in scarlet straight at any news. +Hie you to church; I must another way, +To fetch a ladder, by the which your love +Must climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark: +I am the drudge and toil in your delight, +But you shall bear the burden soon at night. +Go; I'll to dinner: hie you to the cell. + +JULIET: +Hie to high fortune! Honest nurse, farewell. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +So smile the heavens upon this holy act, +That after hours with sorrow chide us not! + +ROMEO: +Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can, +It cannot countervail the exchange of joy +That one short minute gives me in her sight: +Do thou but close our hands with holy words, +Then love-devouring death do what he dare; +It is enough I may but call her mine. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +These violent delights have violent ends +And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, +Which as they kiss consume: the sweetest honey +Is loathsome in his own deliciousness +And in the taste confounds the appetite: +Therefore love moderately; long love doth so; +Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. +Here comes the lady: O, so light a foot +Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint: +A lover may bestride the gossamer +That idles in the wanton summer air, +And yet not fall; so light is vanity. + +JULIET: +Good even to my ghostly confessor. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both. + +JULIET: +As much to him, else is his thanks too much. + +ROMEO: +Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy +Be heap'd like mine and that thy skill be more +To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath +This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue +Unfold the imagined happiness that both +Receive in either by this dear encounter. + +JULIET: +Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, +Brags of his substance, not of ornament: +They are but beggars that can count their worth; +But my true love is grown to such excess +I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Come, come with me, and we will make short work; +For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone +Till holy church incorporate two in one. + +BENVOLIO: +I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire: +The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, +And, if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl; +For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring. + +MERCUTIO: +Thou art like one of those fellows that when he +enters the confines of a tavern claps me his sword +upon the table and says 'God send me no need of +thee!' and by the operation of the second cup draws +it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need. + +BENVOLIO: +Am I like such a fellow? + +MERCUTIO: +Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as +any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as +soon moody to be moved. + +BENVOLIO: +And what to? + +MERCUTIO: +Nay, an there were two such, we should have none +shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why, +thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, +or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast: thou +wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no +other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes: what +eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel? +Thy head is as fun of quarrels as an egg is full of +meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as +an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a +man for coughing in the street, because he hath +wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun: +didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing +his new doublet before Easter? with another, for +tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou +wilt tutor me from quarrelling! + +BENVOLIO: +An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man +should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter. + +MERCUTIO: +The fee-simple! O simple! + +BENVOLIO: +By my head, here come the Capulets. + +MERCUTIO: +By my heel, I care not. + +TYBALT: +Follow me close, for I will speak to them. +Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you. + +MERCUTIO: +And but one word with one of us? couple it with +something; make it a word and a blow. + +TYBALT: +You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you +will give me occasion. + +MERCUTIO: +Could you not take some occasion without giving? + +TYBALT: +Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo,-- + +MERCUTIO: +Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels? an +thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but +discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall +make you dance. 'Zounds, consort! + +BENVOLIO: +We talk here in the public haunt of men: +Either withdraw unto some private place, +And reason coldly of your grievances, +Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us. + +MERCUTIO: +Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze; +I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I. + +TYBALT: +Well, peace be with you, sir: here comes my man. + +MERCUTIO: +But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery: +Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower; +Your worship in that sense may call him 'man.' + +TYBALT: +Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford +No better term than this,--thou art a villain. + +ROMEO: +Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee +Doth much excuse the appertaining rage +To such a greeting: villain am I none; +Therefore farewell; I see thou know'st me not. + +TYBALT: +Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries +That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw. + +ROMEO: +I do protest, I never injured thee, +But love thee better than thou canst devise, +Till thou shalt know the reason of my love: +And so, good Capulet,--which name I tender +As dearly as my own,--be satisfied. + +MERCUTIO: +O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! +Alla stoccata carries it away. +Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk? + +TYBALT: +What wouldst thou have with me? + +MERCUTIO: +Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine +lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you +shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the +eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher +by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your +ears ere it be out. + +TYBALT: +I am for you. + +ROMEO: +Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. + +MERCUTIO: +Come, sir, your passado. + +ROMEO: +Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons. +Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage! +Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath +Forbidden bandying in Verona streets: +Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio! + +MERCUTIO: +I am hurt. +A plague o' both your houses! I am sped. +Is he gone, and hath nothing? + +BENVOLIO: +What, art thou hurt? + +MERCUTIO: +Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough. +Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon. + +ROMEO: +Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. + +MERCUTIO: +No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a +church-door; but 'tis enough,'twill serve: ask for +me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I +am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o' +both your houses! 'Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a +cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a +rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of +arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I +was hurt under your arm. + +ROMEO: +I thought all for the best. + +MERCUTIO: +Help me into some house, Benvolio, +Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses! +They have made worms' meat of me: I have it, +And soundly too: your houses! + +ROMEO: +This gentleman, the prince's near ally, +My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt +In my behalf; my reputation stain'd +With Tybalt's slander,--Tybalt, that an hour +Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet, +Thy beauty hath made me effeminate +And in my temper soften'd valour's steel! + +BENVOLIO: +O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead! +That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds, +Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. + +ROMEO: +This day's black fate on more days doth depend; +This but begins the woe, others must end. + +BENVOLIO: +Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. + +ROMEO: +Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain! +Away to heaven, respective lenity, +And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now! +Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again, +That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio's soul +Is but a little way above our heads, +Staying for thine to keep him company: +Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him. + +TYBALT: +Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here, +Shalt with him hence. + +ROMEO: +This shall determine that. + +BENVOLIO: +Romeo, away, be gone! +The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain. +Stand not amazed: the prince will doom thee death, +If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away! + +ROMEO: +O, I am fortune's fool! + +BENVOLIO: +Why dost thou stay? + +First Citizen: +Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio? +Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he? + +BENVOLIO: +There lies that Tybalt. + +First Citizen: +Up, sir, go with me; +I charge thee in the princes name, obey. + +PRINCE: +Where are the vile beginners of this fray? + +BENVOLIO: +O noble prince, I can discover all +The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl: +There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, +That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio. + +LADY CAPULET: +Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's child! +O prince! O cousin! husband! O, the blood is spilt +O my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art true, +For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague. +O cousin, cousin! + +PRINCE: +Benvolio, who began this bloody fray? + +BENVOLIO: +Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay; +Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink +How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal +Your high displeasure: all this uttered +With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd, +Could not take truce with the unruly spleen +Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts +With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast, +Who all as hot, turns deadly point to point, +And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats +Cold death aside, and with the other sends +It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity, +Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud, +'Hold, friends! friends, part!' and, swifter than +his tongue, +His agile arm beats down their fatal points, +And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm +An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life +Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled; +But by and by comes back to Romeo, +Who had but newly entertain'd revenge, +And to 't they go like lightning, for, ere I +Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain. +And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly. +This is the truth, or let Benvolio die. + +LADY CAPULET: +He is a kinsman to the Montague; +Affection makes him false; he speaks not true: +Some twenty of them fought in this black strife, +And all those twenty could but kill one life. +I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give; +Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live. + +PRINCE: +Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio; +Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe? + +MONTAGUE: +Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's friend; +His fault concludes but what the law should end, +The life of Tybalt. + +PRINCE: +And for that offence +Immediately we do exile him hence: +I have an interest in your hate's proceeding, +My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding; +But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine +That you shall all repent the loss of mine: +I will be deaf to pleading and excuses; +Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses: +Therefore use none: let Romeo hence in haste, +Else, when he's found, that hour is his last. +Bear hence this body and attend our will: +Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill. + +JULIET: +Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, +Towards Phoebus' lodging: such a wagoner +As Phaethon would whip you to the west, +And bring in cloudy night immediately. +Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, +That runaway's eyes may wink and Romeo +Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen. +Lovers can see to do their amorous rites +By their own beauties; or, if love be blind, +It best agrees with night. Come, civil night, +Thou sober-suited matron, all in black, +And learn me how to lose a winning match, +Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods: +Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks, +With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold, +Think true love acted simple modesty. +Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night; +For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night +Whiter than new snow on a raven's back. +Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night, +Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, +Take him and cut him out in little stars, +And he will make the face of heaven so fine +That all the world will be in love with night +And pay no worship to the garish sun. +O, I have bought the mansion of a love, +But not possess'd it, and, though I am sold, +Not yet enjoy'd: so tedious is this day +As is the night before some festival +To an impatient child that hath new robes +And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse, +And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks +But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence. +Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the cords +That Romeo bid thee fetch? + +Nurse: +Ay, ay, the cords. + +JULIET: +Ay me! what news? why dost thou wring thy hands? + +Nurse: +Ah, well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead! +We are undone, lady, we are undone! +Alack the day! he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead! + +JULIET: +Can heaven be so envious? + +Nurse: +Romeo can, +Though heaven cannot: O Romeo, Romeo! +Who ever would have thought it? Romeo! + +JULIET: +What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus? +This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell. +Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but 'I,' +And that bare vowel 'I' shall poison more +Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice: +I am not I, if there be such an I; +Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer 'I.' +If he be slain, say 'I'; or if not, no: +Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe. + +Nurse: +I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,-- +God save the mark!--here on his manly breast: +A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse; +Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood, +All in gore-blood; I swounded at the sight. + +JULIET: +O, break, my heart! poor bankrupt, break at once! +To prison, eyes, ne'er look on liberty! +Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here; +And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier! + +Nurse: +O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had! +O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman! +That ever I should live to see thee dead! + +JULIET: +What storm is this that blows so contrary? +Is Romeo slaughter'd, and is Tybalt dead? +My dear-loved cousin, and my dearer lord? +Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom! +For who is living, if those two are gone? + +Nurse: +Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; +Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished. + +JULIET: +O God! did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood? + +Nurse: +It did, it did; alas the day, it did! + +JULIET: +O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! +Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? +Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical! +Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb! +Despised substance of divinest show! +Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st, +A damned saint, an honourable villain! +O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell, +When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend +In moral paradise of such sweet flesh? +Was ever book containing such vile matter +So fairly bound? O that deceit should dwell +In such a gorgeous palace! + +Nurse: +There's no trust, +No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured, +All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers. +Ah, where's my man? give me some aqua vitae: +These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old. +Shame come to Romeo! + +JULIET: +Blister'd be thy tongue +For such a wish! he was not born to shame: +Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit; +For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd +Sole monarch of the universal earth. +O, what a beast was I to chide at him! + +Nurse: +Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin? + +JULIET: +Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? +Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, +When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it? +But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? +That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband: +Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; +Your tributary drops belong to woe, +Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy. +My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; +And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband: +All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then? +Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, +That murder'd me: I would forget it fain; +But, O, it presses to my memory, +Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds: +'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo--banished;' +That 'banished,' that one word 'banished,' +Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death +Was woe enough, if it had ended there: +Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship +And needly will be rank'd with other griefs, +Why follow'd not, when she said 'Tybalt's dead,' +Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both, +Which modern lamentations might have moved? +But with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death, +'Romeo is banished,' to speak that word, +Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, +All slain, all dead. 'Romeo is banished!' +There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, +In that word's death; no words can that woe sound. +Where is my father, and my mother, nurse? + +Nurse: +Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse: +Will you go to them? I will bring you thither. + +JULIET: +Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shall be spent, +When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment. +Take up those cords: poor ropes, you are beguiled, +Both you and I; for Romeo is exiled: +He made you for a highway to my bed; +But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. +Come, cords, come, nurse; I'll to my wedding-bed; +And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead! + +Nurse: +Hie to your chamber: I'll find Romeo +To comfort you: I wot well where he is. +Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night: +I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell. + +JULIET: +O, find him! give this ring to my true knight, +And bid him come to take his last farewell. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man: +Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts, +And thou art wedded to calamity. + +ROMEO: +Father, what news? what is the prince's doom? +What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand, +That I yet know not? + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Too familiar +Is my dear son with such sour company: +I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom. + +ROMEO: +What less than dooms-day is the prince's doom? + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips, +Not body's death, but body's banishment. + +ROMEO: +Ha, banishment! be merciful, say 'death;' +For exile hath more terror in his look, +Much more than death: do not say 'banishment.' + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Hence from Verona art thou banished: +Be patient, for the world is broad and wide. + +ROMEO: +There is no world without Verona walls, +But purgatory, torture, hell itself. +Hence-banished is banish'd from the world, +And world's exile is death: then banished, +Is death mis-term'd: calling death banishment, +Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe, +And smilest upon the stroke that murders me. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness! +Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince, +Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law, +And turn'd that black word death to banishment: +This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not. + +ROMEO: +'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here, +Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog +And little mouse, every unworthy thing, +Live here in heaven and may look on her; +But Romeo may not: more validity, +More honourable state, more courtship lives +In carrion-flies than Romeo: they my seize +On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand +And steal immortal blessing from her lips, +Who even in pure and vestal modesty, +Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin; +But Romeo may not; he is banished: +Flies may do this, but I from this must fly: +They are free men, but I am banished. +And say'st thou yet that exile is not death? +Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife, +No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, +But 'banished' to kill me?--'banished'? +O friar, the damned use that word in hell; +Howlings attend it: how hast thou the heart, +Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, +A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd, +To mangle me with that word 'banished'? + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word. + +ROMEO: +O, thou wilt speak again of banishment. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +I'll give thee armour to keep off that word: +Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy, +To comfort thee, though thou art banished. + +ROMEO: +Yet 'banished'? Hang up philosophy! +Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, +Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom, +It helps not, it prevails not: talk no more. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +O, then I see that madmen have no ears. + +ROMEO: +How should they, when that wise men have no eyes? + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Let me dispute with thee of thy estate. + +ROMEO: +Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel: +Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, +An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, +Doting like me and like me banished, +Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair, +And fall upon the ground, as I do now, +Taking the measure of an unmade grave. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thyself. + +ROMEO: +Not I; unless the breath of heartsick groans, +Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Hark, how they knock! Who's there? Romeo, arise; +Thou wilt be taken. Stay awhile! Stand up; +Run to my study. By and by! God's will, +What simpleness is this! I come, I come! +Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will? + +Nurse: + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Welcome, then. + +Nurse: +O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar, +Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo? + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk. + +Nurse: +O, he is even in my mistress' case, +Just in her case! O woful sympathy! +Piteous predicament! Even so lies she, +Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering. +Stand up, stand up; stand, and you be a man: +For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand; +Why should you fall into so deep an O? + +ROMEO: +Nurse! + +Nurse: +Ah sir! ah sir! Well, death's the end of all. + +ROMEO: +Spakest thou of Juliet? how is it with her? +Doth she not think me an old murderer, +Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy +With blood removed but little from her own? +Where is she? and how doth she? and what says +My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love? + +Nurse: +O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps; +And now falls on her bed; and then starts up, +And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries, +And then down falls again. + +ROMEO: +As if that name, +Shot from the deadly level of a gun, +Did murder her; as that name's cursed hand +Murder'd her kinsman. O, tell me, friar, tell me, +In what vile part of this anatomy +Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may sack +The hateful mansion. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Hold thy desperate hand: +Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art: +Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote +The unreasonable fury of a beast: +Unseemly woman in a seeming man! +Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both! +Thou hast amazed me: by my holy order, +I thought thy disposition better temper'd. +Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself? +And stay thy lady too that lives in thee, +By doing damned hate upon thyself? +Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth? +Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet +In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst lose. +Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit; +Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all, +And usest none in that true use indeed +Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit: +Thy noble shape is but a form of wax, +Digressing from the valour of a man; +Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury, +Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish; +Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, +Misshapen in the conduct of them both, +Like powder in a skitless soldier's flask, +Is set afire by thine own ignorance, +And thou dismember'd with thine own defence. +What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive, +For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead; +There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill thee, +But thou slew'st Tybalt; there are thou happy too: +The law that threaten'd death becomes thy friend +And turns it to exile; there art thou happy: +A pack of blessings lights up upon thy back; +Happiness courts thee in her best array; +But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench, +Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love: +Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable. +Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed, +Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her: +But look thou stay not till the watch be set, +For then thou canst not pass to Mantua; +Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time +To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends, +Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back +With twenty hundred thousand times more joy +Than thou went'st forth in lamentation. +Go before, nurse: commend me to thy lady; +And bid her hasten all the house to bed, +Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto: +Romeo is coming. + +Nurse: +O Lord, I could have stay'd here all the night +To hear good counsel: O, what learning is! +My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come. + +ROMEO: +Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide. + +Nurse: +Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir: +Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late. + +ROMEO: +How well my comfort is revived by this! + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Go hence; good night; and here stands all your state: +Either be gone before the watch be set, +Or by the break of day disguised from hence: +Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man, +And he shall signify from time to time +Every good hap to you that chances here: +Give me thy hand; 'tis late: farewell; good night. + +ROMEO: +But that a joy past joy calls out on me, +It were a grief, so brief to part with thee: Farewell. + +CAPULET: +Things have fall'n out, sir, so unluckily, +That we have had no time to move our daughter: +Look you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt dearly, +And so did I:--Well, we were born to die. +'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night: +I promise you, but for your company, +I would have been a-bed an hour ago. + +PARIS: +These times of woe afford no time to woo. +Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter. + +LADY CAPULET: +I will, and know her mind early to-morrow; +To-night she is mew'd up to her heaviness. + +CAPULET: +Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender +Of my child's love: I think she will be ruled +In all respects by me; nay, more, I doubt it not. +Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed; +Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love; +And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next-- +But, soft! what day is this? + +PARIS: +Monday, my lord, + +CAPULET: +Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon, +O' Thursday let it be: o' Thursday, tell her, +She shall be married to this noble earl. +Will you be ready? do you like this haste? +We'll keep no great ado,--a friend or two; +For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late, +It may be thought we held him carelessly, +Being our kinsman, if we revel much: +Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends, +And there an end. But what say you to Thursday? + +PARIS: +My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow. + +CAPULET: +Well get you gone: o' Thursday be it, then. +Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed, +Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day. +Farewell, my lord. Light to my chamber, ho! +Afore me! it is so very very late, +That we may call it early by and by. +Good night. + +JULIET: +Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: +It was the nightingale, and not the lark, +That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear; +Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree: +Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. + +ROMEO: +It was the lark, the herald of the morn, +No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks +Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: +Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day +Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. +I must be gone and live, or stay and die. + +JULIET: +Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I: +It is some meteor that the sun exhales, +To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, +And light thee on thy way to Mantua: +Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone. + +ROMEO: +Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; +I am content, so thou wilt have it so. +I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye, +'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; +Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat +The vaulty heaven so high above our heads: +I have more care to stay than will to go: +Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so. +How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day. + +JULIET: +It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away! +It is the lark that sings so out of tune, +Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. +Some say the lark makes sweet division; +This doth not so, for she divideth us: +Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes, +O, now I would they had changed voices too! +Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, +Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day, +O, now be gone; more light and light it grows. + +ROMEO: +More light and light; more dark and dark our woes! + +Nurse: +Madam! + +JULIET: +Nurse? + +Nurse: +Your lady mother is coming to your chamber: +The day is broke; be wary, look about. + +JULIET: +Then, window, let day in, and let life out. + +ROMEO: +Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend. + +JULIET: +Art thou gone so? love, lord, ay, husband, friend! +I must hear from thee every day in the hour, +For in a minute there are many days: +O, by this count I shall be much in years +Ere I again behold my Romeo! + +ROMEO: +Farewell! +I will omit no opportunity +That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. + +JULIET: +O think'st thou we shall ever meet again? + +ROMEO: +I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve +For sweet discourses in our time to come. + +JULIET: +O God, I have an ill-divining soul! +Methinks I see thee, now thou art below, +As one dead in the bottom of a tomb: +Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale. + +ROMEO: +And trust me, love, in my eye so do you: +Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu! + +JULIET: +O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle: +If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him. +That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune; +For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long, +But send him back. + +LADY CAPULET: + +JULIET: +Who is't that calls? is it my lady mother? +Is she not down so late, or up so early? +What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither? + +LADY CAPULET: +Why, how now, Juliet! + +JULIET: +Madam, I am not well. + +LADY CAPULET: +Evermore weeping for your cousin's death? +What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? +An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live; +Therefore, have done: some grief shows much of love; +But much of grief shows still some want of wit. + +JULIET: +Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. + +LADY CAPULET: +So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend +Which you weep for. + +JULIET: +Feeling so the loss, +Cannot choose but ever weep the friend. + +LADY CAPULET: +Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death, +As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him. + +JULIET: +What villain madam? + +LADY CAPULET: +That same villain, Romeo. + +JULIET: + +LADY CAPULET: +That is, because the traitor murderer lives. + +JULIET: +Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands: +Would none but I might venge my cousin's death! + +LADY CAPULET: +We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not: +Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua, +Where that same banish'd runagate doth live, +Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram, +That he shall soon keep Tybalt company: +And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied. + +JULIET: +Indeed, I never shall be satisfied +With Romeo, till I behold him--dead-- +Is my poor heart for a kinsman vex'd. +Madam, if you could find out but a man +To bear a poison, I would temper it; +That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof, +Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors +To hear him named, and cannot come to him. +To wreak the love I bore my cousin +Upon his body that slaughter'd him! + +LADY CAPULET: +Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man. +But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl. + +JULIET: +And joy comes well in such a needy time: +What are they, I beseech your ladyship? + +LADY CAPULET: +Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child; +One who, to put thee from thy heaviness, +Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy, +That thou expect'st not nor I look'd not for. + +JULIET: +Madam, in happy time, what day is that? + +LADY CAPULET: +Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn, +The gallant, young and noble gentleman, +The County Paris, at Saint Peter's Church, +Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride. + +JULIET: +Now, by Saint Peter's Church and Peter too, +He shall not make me there a joyful bride. +I wonder at this haste; that I must wed +Ere he, that should be husband, comes to woo. +I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam, +I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear, +It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate, +Rather than Paris. These are news indeed! + +LADY CAPULET: +Here comes your father; tell him so yourself, +And see how he will take it at your hands. + +CAPULET: +When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew; +But for the sunset of my brother's son +It rains downright. +How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in tears? +Evermore showering? In one little body +Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind; +For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea, +Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is, +Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs; +Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them, +Without a sudden calm, will overset +Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife! +Have you deliver'd to her our decree? + +LADY CAPULET: +Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks. +I would the fool were married to her grave! + +CAPULET: +Soft! take me with you, take me with you, wife. +How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks? +Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest, +Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought +So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom? + +JULIET: +Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you have: +Proud can I never be of what I hate; +But thankful even for hate, that is meant love. + +CAPULET: +How now, how now, chop-logic! What is this? +'Proud,' and 'I thank you,' and 'I thank you not;' +And yet 'not proud,' mistress minion, you, +Thank me no thankings, nor, proud me no prouds, +But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next, +To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church, +Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. +Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage! +You tallow-face! + +LADY CAPULET: +Fie, fie! what, are you mad? + +JULIET: +Good father, I beseech you on my knees, +Hear me with patience but to speak a word. + +CAPULET: +Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch! +I tell thee what: get thee to church o' Thursday, +Or never after look me in the face: +Speak not, reply not, do not answer me; +My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest +That God had lent us but this only child; +But now I see this one is one too much, +And that we have a curse in having her: +Out on her, hilding! + +Nurse: +God in heaven bless her! +You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. + +CAPULET: +And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue, +Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go. + +Nurse: +I speak no treason. + +CAPULET: +O, God ye god-den. + +Nurse: +May not one speak? + +CAPULET: +Peace, you mumbling fool! +Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl; +For here we need it not. + +LADY CAPULET: +You are too hot. + +CAPULET: +God's bread! it makes me mad: +Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play, +Alone, in company, still my care hath been +To have her match'd: and having now provided +A gentleman of noble parentage, +Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd, +Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts, +Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man; +And then to have a wretched puling fool, +A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender, +To answer 'I'll not wed; I cannot love, +I am too young; I pray you, pardon me.' +But, as you will not wed, I'll pardon you: +Graze where you will you shall not house with me: +Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest. +Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise: +An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend; +And you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in +the streets, +For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee, +Nor what is mine shall never do thee good: +Trust to't, bethink you; I'll not be forsworn. + +JULIET: +Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, +That sees into the bottom of my grief? +O, sweet my mother, cast me not away! +Delay this marriage for a month, a week; +Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed +In that dim monument where Tybalt lies. + +LADY CAPULET: +Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word: +Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. + +JULIET: +O God!--O nurse, how shall this be prevented? +My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven; +How shall that faith return again to earth, +Unless that husband send it me from heaven +By leaving earth? comfort me, counsel me. +Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems +Upon so soft a subject as myself! +What say'st thou? hast thou not a word of joy? +Some comfort, nurse. + +Nurse: +Faith, here it is. +Romeo is banish'd; and all the world to nothing, +That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you; +Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth. +Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, +I think it best you married with the county. +O, he's a lovely gentleman! +Romeo's a dishclout to him: an eagle, madam, +Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye +As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart, +I think you are happy in this second match, +For it excels your first: or if it did not, +Your first is dead; or 'twere as good he were, +As living here and you no use of him. + +JULIET: +Speakest thou from thy heart? + +Nurse: +And from my soul too; +Or else beshrew them both. + +JULIET: +Amen! + +Nurse: +What? + +JULIET: +Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. +Go in: and tell my lady I am gone, +Having displeased my father, to Laurence' cell, +To make confession and to be absolved. + +Nurse: +Marry, I will; and this is wisely done. + +JULIET: +Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend! +Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn, +Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue +Which she hath praised him with above compare +So many thousand times? Go, counsellor; +Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain. +I'll to the friar, to know his remedy: +If all else fail, myself have power to die. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +On Thursday, sir? the time is very short. + +PARIS: +My father Capulet will have it so; +And I am nothing slow to slack his haste. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +You say you do not know the lady's mind: +Uneven is the course, I like it not. + +PARIS: +Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, +And therefore have I little talk'd of love; +For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. +Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous +That she doth give her sorrow so much sway, +And in his wisdom hastes our marriage, +To stop the inundation of her tears; +Which, too much minded by herself alone, +May be put from her by society: +Now do you know the reason of this haste. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: + +PARIS: +Happily met, my lady and my wife! + +JULIET: +That may be, sir, when I may be a wife. + +PARIS: +That may be must be, love, on Thursday next. + +JULIET: +What must be shall be. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +That's a certain text. + +PARIS: +Come you to make confession to this father? + +JULIET: +To answer that, I should confess to you. + +PARIS: +Do not deny to him that you love me. + +JULIET: +I will confess to you that I love him. + +PARIS: +So will ye, I am sure, that you love me. + +JULIET: +If I do so, it will be of more price, +Being spoke behind your back, than to your face. + +PARIS: +Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears. + +JULIET: +The tears have got small victory by that; +For it was bad enough before their spite. + +PARIS: +Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report. + +JULIET: +That is no slander, sir, which is a truth; +And what I spake, I spake it to my face. + +PARIS: +Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it. + +JULIET: +It may be so, for it is not mine own. +Are you at leisure, holy father, now; +Or shall I come to you at evening mass? + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now. +My lord, we must entreat the time alone. + +PARIS: +God shield I should disturb devotion! +Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye: +Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss. + +JULIET: +O shut the door! and when thou hast done so, +Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help! + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief; +It strains me past the compass of my wits: +I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it, +On Thursday next be married to this county. + +JULIET: +Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this, +Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it: +If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help, +Do thou but call my resolution wise, +And with this knife I'll help it presently. +God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands; +And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd, +Shall be the label to another deed, +Or my true heart with treacherous revolt +Turn to another, this shall slay them both: +Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time, +Give me some present counsel, or, behold, +'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife +Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that +Which the commission of thy years and art +Could to no issue of true honour bring. +Be not so long to speak; I long to die, +If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Hold, daughter: I do spy a kind of hope, +Which craves as desperate an execution. +As that is desperate which we would prevent. +If, rather than to marry County Paris, +Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself, +Then is it likely thou wilt undertake +A thing like death to chide away this shame, +That copest with death himself to scape from it: +And, if thou darest, I'll give thee remedy. + +JULIET: +O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, +From off the battlements of yonder tower; +Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk +Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears; +Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house, +O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, +With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls; +Or bid me go into a new-made grave +And hide me with a dead man in his shroud; +Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble; +And I will do it without fear or doubt, +To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent +To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow: +To-morrow night look that thou lie alone; +Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber: +Take thou this vial, being then in bed, +And this distilled liquor drink thou off; +When presently through all thy veins shall run +A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse +Shall keep his native progress, but surcease: +No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest; +The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade +To paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall, +Like death, when he shuts up the day of life; +Each part, deprived of supple government, +Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death: +And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death +Thou shalt continue two and forty hours, +And then awake as from a pleasant sleep. +Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes +To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead: +Then, as the manner of our country is, +In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier +Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault +Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie. +In the mean time, against thou shalt awake, +Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift, +And hither shall he come: and he and I +Will watch thy waking, and that very night +Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua. +And this shall free thee from this present shame; +If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear, +Abate thy valour in the acting it. + +JULIET: +Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear! + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous +In this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed +To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord. + +JULIET: +Love give me strength! and strength shall help afford. +Farewell, dear father! + +CAPULET: +So many guests invite as here are writ. +Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks. + +Second Servant: +You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try if they +can lick their fingers. + +CAPULET: +How canst thou try them so? + +Second Servant: +Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his +own fingers: therefore he that cannot lick his +fingers goes not with me. + +CAPULET: +Go, be gone. +We shall be much unfurnished for this time. +What, is my daughter gone to Friar Laurence? + +Nurse: +Ay, forsooth. + +CAPULET: +Well, he may chance to do some good on her: +A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is. + +Nurse: +See where she comes from shrift with merry look. + +CAPULET: +How now, my headstrong! where have you been gadding? + +JULIET: +Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin +Of disobedient opposition +To you and your behests, and am enjoin'd +By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here, +And beg your pardon: pardon, I beseech you! +Henceforward I am ever ruled by you. + +CAPULET: +Send for the county; go tell him of this: +I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning. + +JULIET: +I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell; +And gave him what becomed love I might, +Not step o'er the bounds of modesty. + +CAPULET: +Why, I am glad on't; this is well: stand up: +This is as't should be. Let me see the county; +Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither. +Now, afore God! this reverend holy friar, +Our whole city is much bound to him. + +JULIET: +Nurse, will you go with me into my closet, +To help me sort such needful ornaments +As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow? + +LADY CAPULET: +No, not till Thursday; there is time enough. + +CAPULET: +Go, nurse, go with her: we'll to church to-morrow. + +LADY CAPULET: +We shall be short in our provision: +'Tis now near night. + +CAPULET: +Tush, I will stir about, +And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife: +Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her; +I'll not to bed to-night; let me alone; +I'll play the housewife for this once. What, ho! +They are all forth. Well, I will walk myself +To County Paris, to prepare him up +Against to-morrow: my heart is wondrous light, +Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd. + +JULIET: +Ay, those attires are best: but, gentle nurse, +I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night, +For I have need of many orisons +To move the heavens to smile upon my state, +Which, well thou know'st, is cross, and full of sin. + +LADY CAPULET: +What, are you busy, ho? need you my help? + +JULIET: +No, madam; we have cull'd such necessaries +As are behoveful for our state to-morrow: +So please you, let me now be left alone, +And let the nurse this night sit up with you; +For, I am sure, you have your hands full all, +In this so sudden business. + +LADY CAPULET: +Good night: +Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need. + +JULIET: +Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again. +I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins, +That almost freezes up the heat of life: +I'll call them back again to comfort me: +Nurse! What should she do here? +My dismal scene I needs must act alone. +Come, vial. +What if this mixture do not work at all? +Shall I be married then to-morrow morning? +No, no: this shall forbid it: lie thou there. +What if it be a poison, which the friar +Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead, +Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd, +Because he married me before to Romeo? +I fear it is: and yet, methinks, it should not, +For he hath still been tried a holy man. +How if, when I am laid into the tomb, +I wake before the time that Romeo +Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point! +Shall I not, then, be stifled in the vault, +To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in, +And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? +Or, if I live, is it not very like, +The horrible conceit of death and night, +Together with the terror of the place,-- +As in a vault, an ancient receptacle, +Where, for these many hundred years, the bones +Of all my buried ancestors are packed: +Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, +Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say, +At some hours in the night spirits resort;-- +Alack, alack, is it not like that I, +So early waking, what with loathsome smells, +And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth, +That living mortals, hearing them, run mad:-- +O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught, +Environed with all these hideous fears? +And madly play with my forefather's joints? +And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud? +And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone, +As with a club, dash out my desperate brains? +O, look! methinks I see my cousin's ghost +Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body +Upon a rapier's point: stay, Tybalt, stay! +Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee. + +LADY CAPULET: +Hold, take these keys, and fetch more spices, nurse. + +Nurse: +They call for dates and quinces in the pastry. + +CAPULET: +Come, stir, stir, stir! the second cock hath crow'd, +The curfew-bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock: +Look to the baked meats, good Angelica: +Spare not for the cost. + +Nurse: +Go, you cot-quean, go, +Get you to bed; faith, You'll be sick to-morrow +For this night's watching. + +CAPULET: +No, not a whit: what! I have watch'd ere now +All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick. + +LADY CAPULET: +Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time; +But I will watch you from such watching now. + +CAPULET: +A jealous hood, a jealous hood! +Now, fellow, +What's there? + +First Servant: +Things for the cook, sir; but I know not what. + +CAPULET: +Make haste, make haste. +Sirrah, fetch drier logs: +Call Peter, he will show thee where they are. + +Second Servant: +I have a head, sir, that will find out logs, +And never trouble Peter for the matter. + +CAPULET: +Mass, and well said; a merry whoreson, ha! +Thou shalt be logger-head. Good faith, 'tis day: +The county will be here with music straight, +For so he said he would: I hear him near. +Nurse! Wife! What, ho! What, nurse, I say! +Go waken Juliet, go and trim her up; +I'll go and chat with Paris: hie, make haste, +Make haste; the bridegroom he is come already: +Make haste, I say. + +Nurse: +Mistress! what, mistress! Juliet! fast, I warrant her, she: +Why, lamb! why, lady! fie, you slug-a-bed! +Why, love, I say! madam! sweet-heart! why, bride! +What, not a word? you take your pennyworths now; +Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant, +The County Paris hath set up his rest, +That you shall rest but little. God forgive me, +Marry, and amen, how sound is she asleep! +I must needs wake her. Madam, madam, madam! +Ay, let the county take you in your bed; +He'll fright you up, i' faith. Will it not be? +What, dress'd! and in your clothes! and down again! +I must needs wake you; Lady! lady! lady! +Alas, alas! Help, help! my lady's dead! +O, well-a-day, that ever I was born! +Some aqua vitae, ho! My lord! my lady! + +LADY CAPULET: +What noise is here? + +Nurse: +O lamentable day! + +LADY CAPULET: +What is the matter? + +Nurse: +Look, look! O heavy day! + +LADY CAPULET: +O me, O me! My child, my only life, +Revive, look up, or I will die with thee! +Help, help! Call help. + +CAPULET: +For shame, bring Juliet forth; her lord is come. + +Nurse: +She's dead, deceased, she's dead; alack the day! + +LADY CAPULET: +Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead! + +CAPULET: +Ha! let me see her: out, alas! she's cold: +Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; +Life and these lips have long been separated: +Death lies on her like an untimely frost +Upon the sweetest flower of all the field. + +Nurse: +O lamentable day! + +LADY CAPULET: +O woful time! + +CAPULET: +Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail, +Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Come, is the bride ready to go to church? + +CAPULET: +Ready to go, but never to return. +O son! the night before thy wedding-day +Hath Death lain with thy wife. There she lies, +Flower as she was, deflowered by him. +Death is my son-in-law, Death is my heir; +My daughter he hath wedded: I will die, +And leave him all; life, living, all is Death's. + +PARIS: +Have I thought long to see this morning's face, +And doth it give me such a sight as this? + +LADY CAPULET: +Accursed, unhappy, wretched, hateful day! +Most miserable hour that e'er time saw +In lasting labour of his pilgrimage! +But one, poor one, one poor and loving child, +But one thing to rejoice and solace in, +And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight! + +Nurse: +O woe! O woful, woful, woful day! +Most lamentable day, most woful day, +That ever, ever, I did yet behold! +O day! O day! O day! O hateful day! +Never was seen so black a day as this: +O woful day, O woful day! + +PARIS: +Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spited, slain! +Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd, +By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown! +O love! O life! not life, but love in death! + +CAPULET: +Despised, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd! +Uncomfortable time, why camest thou now +To murder, murder our solemnity? +O child! O child! my soul, and not my child! +Dead art thou! Alack! my child is dead; +And with my child my joys are buried. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives not +In these confusions. Heaven and yourself +Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath all, +And all the better is it for the maid: +Your part in her you could not keep from death, +But heaven keeps his part in eternal life. +The most you sought was her promotion; +For 'twas your heaven she should be advanced: +And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced +Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself? +O, in this love, you love your child so ill, +That you run mad, seeing that she is well: +She's not well married that lives married long; +But she's best married that dies married young. +Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary +On this fair corse; and, as the custom is, +In all her best array bear her to church: +For though fond nature bids us an lament, +Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment. + +CAPULET: +All things that we ordained festival, +Turn from their office to black funeral; +Our instruments to melancholy bells, +Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast, +Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change, +Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse, +And all things change them to the contrary. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Sir, go you in; and, madam, go with him; +And go, Sir Paris; every one prepare +To follow this fair corse unto her grave: +The heavens do lour upon you for some ill; +Move them no more by crossing their high will. + +First Musician: +Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be gone. + +Nurse: +Honest goodfellows, ah, put up, put up; +For, well you know, this is a pitiful case. + +First Musician: +Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended. + +PETER: +Musicians, O, musicians, 'Heart's ease, Heart's +ease:' O, an you will have me live, play 'Heart's ease.' + +First Musician: +Why 'Heart's ease?' + +PETER: +O, musicians, because my heart itself plays 'My +heart is full of woe:' O, play me some merry dump, +to comfort me. + +First Musician: +Not a dump we; 'tis no time to play now. + +PETER: +You will not, then? + +First Musician: +No. + +PETER: +I will then give it you soundly. + +First Musician: +What will you give us? + +PETER: +No money, on my faith, but the gleek; +I will give you the minstrel. + +First Musician: +Then I will give you the serving-creature. + +PETER: +Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on +your pate. I will carry no crotchets: I'll re you, +I'll fa you; do you note me? + +First Musician: +An you re us and fa us, you note us. + +Second Musician: +Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit. + +PETER: +Then have at you with my wit! I will dry-beat you +with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger. Answer +me like men: +'When griping grief the heart doth wound, +And doleful dumps the mind oppress, +Then music with her silver sound'-- +why 'silver sound'? why 'music with her silver +sound'? What say you, Simon Catling? + +Musician: +Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound. + +PETER: +Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck? + +Second Musician: +I say 'silver sound,' because musicians sound for silver. + +PETER: +Pretty too! What say you, James Soundpost? + +Third Musician: +Faith, I know not what to say. + +PETER: +O, I cry you mercy; you are the singer: I will say +for you. It is 'music with her silver sound,' +because musicians have no gold for sounding: +'Then music with her silver sound +With speedy help doth lend redress.' + +First Musician: +What a pestilent knave is this same! + +Second Musician: +Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the +mourners, and stay dinner. + +ROMEO: +If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep, +My dreams presage some joyful news at hand: +My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne; +And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit +Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts. +I dreamt my lady came and found me dead-- +Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave +to think!-- +And breathed such life with kisses in my lips, +That I revived, and was an emperor. +Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd, +When but love's shadows are so rich in joy! +News from Verona!--How now, Balthasar! +Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar? +How doth my lady? Is my father well? +How fares my Juliet? that I ask again; +For nothing can be ill, if she be well. + +BALTHASAR: +Then she is well, and nothing can be ill: +Her body sleeps in Capel's monument, +And her immortal part with angels lives. +I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault, +And presently took post to tell it you: +O, pardon me for bringing these ill news, +Since you did leave it for my office, sir. + +ROMEO: +Is it even so? then I defy you, stars! +Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper, +And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night. + +BALTHASAR: +I do beseech you, sir, have patience: +Your looks are pale and wild, and do import +Some misadventure. + +ROMEO: +Tush, thou art deceived: +Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do. +Hast thou no letters to me from the friar? + +BALTHASAR: +No, my good lord. + +ROMEO: +No matter: get thee gone, +And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight. +Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night. +Let's see for means: O mischief, thou art swift +To enter in the thoughts of desperate men! +I do remember an apothecary,-- +And hereabouts he dwells,--which late I noted +In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows, +Culling of simples; meagre were his looks, +Sharp misery had worn him to the bones: +And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, +An alligator stuff'd, and other skins +Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves +A beggarly account of empty boxes, +Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds, +Remnants of packthread and old cakes of roses, +Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show. +Noting this penury, to myself I said +'An if a man did need a poison now, +Whose sale is present death in Mantua, +Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.' +O, this same thought did but forerun my need; +And this same needy man must sell it me. +As I remember, this should be the house. +Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut. +What, ho! apothecary! + +Apothecary: +Who calls so loud? + +ROMEO: +Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor: +Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have +A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear +As will disperse itself through all the veins +That the life-weary taker may fall dead +And that the trunk may be discharged of breath +As violently as hasty powder fired +Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb. + +Apothecary: +Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law +Is death to any he that utters them. + +ROMEO: +Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness, +And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks, +Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes, +Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back; +The world is not thy friend nor the world's law; +The world affords no law to make thee rich; +Then be not poor, but break it, and take this. + +Apothecary: +My poverty, but not my will, consents. + +ROMEO: +I pay thy poverty, and not thy will. + +Apothecary: +Put this in any liquid thing you will, +And drink it off; and, if you had the strength +Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight. + +ROMEO: +There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, +Doing more murders in this loathsome world, +Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell. +I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none. +Farewell: buy food, and get thyself in flesh. +Come, cordial and not poison, go with me +To Juliet's grave; for there must I use thee. + +FRIAR JOHN: +Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho! + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +This same should be the voice of Friar John. +Welcome from Mantua: what says Romeo? +Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter. + +FRIAR JOHN: +Going to find a bare-foot brother out +One of our order, to associate me, +Here in this city visiting the sick, +And finding him, the searchers of the town, +Suspecting that we both were in a house +Where the infectious pestilence did reign, +Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth; +So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo? + +FRIAR JOHN: +I could not send it,--here it is again,-- +Nor get a messenger to bring it thee, +So fearful were they of infection. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood, +The letter was not nice but full of charge +Of dear import, and the neglecting it +May do much danger. Friar John, go hence; +Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight +Unto my cell. + +FRIAR JOHN: +Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Now must I to the monument alone; +Within three hours will fair Juliet wake: +She will beshrew me much that Romeo +Hath had no notice of these accidents; +But I will write again to Mantua, +And keep her at my cell till Romeo come; +Poor living corse, closed in a dead man's tomb! + +PARIS: +Give me thy torch, boy: hence, and stand aloof: +Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. +Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along, +Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground; +So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread, +Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves, +But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me, +As signal that thou hear'st something approach. +Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go. + +PAGE: + +PARIS: +Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew,-- +O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones;-- +Which with sweet water nightly I will dew, +Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans: +The obsequies that I for thee will keep +Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep. +The boy gives warning something doth approach. +What cursed foot wanders this way to-night, +To cross my obsequies and true love's rite? +What with a torch! muffle me, night, awhile. + +ROMEO: +Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron. +Hold, take this letter; early in the morning +See thou deliver it to my lord and father. +Give me the light: upon thy life, I charge thee, +Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof, +And do not interrupt me in my course. +Why I descend into this bed of death, +Is partly to behold my lady's face; +But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger +A precious ring, a ring that I must use +In dear employment: therefore hence, be gone: +But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry +In what I further shall intend to do, +By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint +And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs: +The time and my intents are savage-wild, +More fierce and more inexorable far +Than empty tigers or the roaring sea. + +BALTHASAR: +I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you. + +ROMEO: +So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that: +Live, and be prosperous: and farewell, good fellow. + +BALTHASAR: + +ROMEO: +Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death, +Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth, +Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open, +And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food! + +PARIS: +This is that banish'd haughty Montague, +That murder'd my love's cousin, with which grief, +It is supposed, the fair creature died; +And here is come to do some villanous shame +To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him. +Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague! +Can vengeance be pursued further than death? +Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee: +Obey, and go with me; for thou must die. + +ROMEO: +I must indeed; and therefore came I hither. +Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man; +Fly hence, and leave me: think upon these gone; +Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth, +Put not another sin upon my head, +By urging me to fury: O, be gone! +By heaven, I love thee better than myself; +For I come hither arm'd against myself: +Stay not, be gone; live, and hereafter say, +A madman's mercy bade thee run away. + +PARIS: +I do defy thy conjurations, +And apprehend thee for a felon here. + +ROMEO: +Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy! + +PAGE: +O Lord, they fight! I will go call the watch. + +PARIS: +O, I am slain! +If thou be merciful, +Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. + +ROMEO: +In faith, I will. Let me peruse this face. +Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris! +What said my man, when my betossed soul +Did not attend him as we rode? I think +He told me Paris should have married Juliet: +Said he not so? or did I dream it so? +Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet, +To think it was so? O, give me thy hand, +One writ with me in sour misfortune's book! +I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave; +A grave? O no! a lantern, slaughter'd youth, +For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes +This vault a feasting presence full of light. +Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd. +How oft when men are at the point of death +Have they been merry! which their keepers call +A lightning before death: O, how may I +Call this a lightning? O my love! my wife! +Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, +Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty: +Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet +Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, +And death's pale flag is not advanced there. +Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? +O, what more favour can I do to thee, +Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain +To sunder his that was thine enemy? +Forgive me, cousin! Ah, dear Juliet, +Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe +That unsubstantial death is amorous, +And that the lean abhorred monster keeps +Thee here in dark to be his paramour? +For fear of that, I still will stay with thee; +And never from this palace of dim night +Depart again: here, here will I remain +With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here +Will I set up my everlasting rest, +And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars +From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last! +Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you +The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss +A dateless bargain to engrossing death! +Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide! +Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on +The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark! +Here's to my love! +O true apothecary! +Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night +Have my old feet stumbled at graves! Who's there? + +BALTHASAR: +Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend, +What torch is yond, that vainly lends his light +To grubs and eyeless skulls? as I discern, +It burneth in the Capel's monument. + +BALTHASAR: +It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master, +One that you love. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Who is it? + +BALTHASAR: +Romeo. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +How long hath he been there? + +BALTHASAR: +Full half an hour. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Go with me to the vault. + +BALTHASAR: +I dare not, sir +My master knows not but I am gone hence; +And fearfully did menace me with death, +If I did stay to look on his intents. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Stay, then; I'll go alone. Fear comes upon me: +O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing. + +BALTHASAR: +As I did sleep under this yew-tree here, +I dreamt my master and another fought, +And that my master slew him. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Romeo! +Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains +The stony entrance of this sepulchre? +What mean these masterless and gory swords +To lie discolour'd by this place of peace? +Romeo! O, pale! Who else? what, Paris too? +And steep'd in blood? Ah, what an unkind hour +Is guilty of this lamentable chance! +The lady stirs. + +JULIET: +O comfortable friar! where is my lord? +I do remember well where I should be, +And there I am. Where is my Romeo? + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +I hear some noise. Lady, come from that nest +Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep: +A greater power than we can contradict +Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away. +Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead; +And Paris too. Come, I'll dispose of thee +Among a sisterhood of holy nuns: +Stay not to question, for the watch is coming; +Come, go, good Juliet, +I dare no longer stay. + +JULIET: +Go, get thee hence, for I will not away. +What's here? a cup, closed in my true love's hand? +Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end: +O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop +To help me after? I will kiss thy lips; +Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, +To make die with a restorative. +Thy lips are warm. + +First Watchman: + +JULIET: +Yea, noise? then I'll be brief. O happy dagger! +This is thy sheath; +there rust, and let me die. + +PAGE: +This is the place; there, where the torch doth burn. + +First Watchman: +The ground is bloody; search about the churchyard: +Go, some of you, whoe'er you find attach. +Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain, +And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead, +Who here hath lain these two days buried. +Go, tell the prince: run to the Capulets: +Raise up the Montagues: some others search: +We see the ground whereon these woes do lie; +But the true ground of all these piteous woes +We cannot without circumstance descry. + +Second Watchman: +Here's Romeo's man; we found him in the churchyard. + +First Watchman: +Hold him in safety, till the prince come hither. + +Third Watchman: +Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs and weeps: +We took this mattock and this spade from him, +As he was coming from this churchyard side. + +First Watchman: +A great suspicion: stay the friar too. + +PRINCE: +What misadventure is so early up, +That calls our person from our morning's rest? + +CAPULET: +What should it be, that they so shriek abroad? + +LADY CAPULET: +The people in the street cry Romeo, +Some Juliet, and some Paris; and all run, +With open outcry toward our monument. + +PRINCE: +What fear is this which startles in our ears? + +First Watchman: +Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain; +And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before, +Warm and new kill'd. + +PRINCE: +Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes. + +First Watchman: +Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's man; +With instruments upon them, fit to open +These dead men's tombs. + +CAPULET: +O heavens! O wife, look how our daughter bleeds! +This dagger hath mista'en--for, lo, his house +Is empty on the back of Montague,-- +And it mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom! + +LADY CAPULET: +O me! this sight of death is as a bell, +That warns my old age to a sepulchre. + +PRINCE: +Come, Montague; for thou art early up, +To see thy son and heir more early down. + +MONTAGUE: +Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night; +Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath: +What further woe conspires against mine age? + +PRINCE: +Look, and thou shalt see. + +MONTAGUE: +O thou untaught! what manners is in this? +To press before thy father to a grave? + +PRINCE: +Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while, +Till we can clear these ambiguities, +And know their spring, their head, their +true descent; +And then will I be general of your woes, +And lead you even to death: meantime forbear, +And let mischance be slave to patience. +Bring forth the parties of suspicion. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +I am the greatest, able to do least, +Yet most suspected, as the time and place +Doth make against me of this direful murder; +And here I stand, both to impeach and purge +Myself condemned and myself excused. + +PRINCE: +Then say at once what thou dost know in this. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +I will be brief, for my short date of breath +Is not so long as is a tedious tale. +Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet; +And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife: +I married them; and their stol'n marriage-day +Was Tybalt's dooms-day, whose untimely death +Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from the city, +For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pined. +You, to remove that siege of grief from her, +Betroth'd and would have married her perforce +To County Paris: then comes she to me, +And, with wild looks, bid me devise some mean +To rid her from this second marriage, +Or in my cell there would she kill herself. +Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art, +A sleeping potion; which so took effect +As I intended, for it wrought on her +The form of death: meantime I writ to Romeo, +That he should hither come as this dire night, +To help to take her from her borrow'd grave, +Being the time the potion's force should cease. +But he which bore my letter, Friar John, +Was stay'd by accident, and yesternight +Return'd my letter back. Then all alone +At the prefixed hour of her waking, +Came I to take her from her kindred's vault; +Meaning to keep her closely at my cell, +Till I conveniently could send to Romeo: +But when I came, some minute ere the time +Of her awaking, here untimely lay +The noble Paris and true Romeo dead. +She wakes; and I entreated her come forth, +And bear this work of heaven with patience: +But then a noise did scare me from the tomb; +And she, too desperate, would not go with me, +But, as it seems, did violence on herself. +All this I know; and to the marriage +Her nurse is privy: and, if aught in this +Miscarried by my fault, let my old life +Be sacrificed, some hour before his time, +Unto the rigour of severest law.