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HN
 11
13483.

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HARVARD UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

THE DRAMATIC LIBRARY

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OF ROBERT W. LOWE OF
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LONDON, ENGLAND
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GIFT OF JOHN DREW OF

NEW YORK
 13483.11

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 Contents.

13483.11

William .
1. Shakespeare , Hamlet.

London . 1818.

2. bitter, bolley. Richard the Third.

London . 1818 .

3.. Lee,Nathaniel .
p Alexander the

great. London . 1818.

Shakespeare ,William . Uthello.

London . 1819.

KingJohn. London . 1819 .

Romeo andJuliet
.

London .
1819
.
等
Nicholar
Rowe, . Jane Shore . London 1919.
hum

Shakespeare , William. KingLear

London . 1820..

Coriolanus. London . 1820.

D.
Otway ,Thomas, Venice preserved

London . 1820.
|
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 7

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33
 Orberry's Edition.

HAMLET,

A TRAGEDY ;

BY

William Shakspeare.

THE ONLY EDITION EXISTING WHICH IS FAITHFULLY MARKED WITH

THE STAGE BUSINESS, AND STAGE DIRECTIONS,

AS IT IS PERFORMED AT THE

Theatres Koyal.

LONDON:

PUBLISHED FOR THE PROPRIETORS, BY W. SIMPKIN AND

R. MARSHALL, STATIONERS' COURT, LUDGATE - STREET ;
C. CHAPPLE, 66, PALL - MALL ; AND SOLD BY W. AND
J. LOWNDES, 9 , BRYDGES - STREET , COVENT- Garden.

1818.
13483.11

Harvard College Library,

Robert W. Lowe Collection.
Gul 6. Joan Dew,
14 1903

W. OXBERRY AND CO. PRINTERS ,

8, WHITE HART YARD .
 Remarks .

IT is quite refreshing in our critical journey to meet with a play

of Shakspeare's ; it is manna in the wilderness ; it is a green spot
in the barren desert, where the flowers are sweet, and the springs
are flowing, and nature seems to live again ; if, weary with past
toil and delighted with present freshness, we linger in the way,
the fault, we think, may be easily forgiven.
Here then we shall take the opportunity of expounding our
poetical creed ; not indeed in its full extent, but as far as our very
brief limits will allow ; the time now spent in this detail will be
more than gained in our future essays collectively, each of which
will be proportionably brief, as nothing more will then be necessary
than opinions absolutely and generally expressed ; the reader will
judge of their correctness by reference to the present exposition.
We are the more induced to this as we do not precisely agree with
the acute and eloquent Hazlitt in his poetical doctrines : besides,
much as we admire his genius, he does not deal sufficiently in gen
eral principles ; he writes beautiful eulogiums on plays or passages
individually, but can hardly be said to have given us a system, or
measure, applicable to any poem of any poet ; we do not, however,
pretend to offer a complete system ; our limits, which are neces
sarily brief, will only admit of a few remarks given without much
circumstance, but these will be of universal application, not con
fined to any particular play or poet.
a
 ii

There is something more in poetry than dull people, or such as

are of mechanic habits, are willing to allow ; the love of it is ge
neral, and all general feelings are founded in nature ; it is, in
fact, the only point in which all nations agree ; the civilized
and the rude, the inhabitants ofthe hottest , or of the coldest
climate in this respect are the same- Nor is this generality of
agreement confined to any peculiar time ; tradition informs us, that
the barbarians of past ages told their love as well as the achieve
ments of their warriors in verse, and experience gives precisely the
same account of the barbarians of our days, -of the Laplander,
the American, and the Hindoo. This universal consent, without
even a solitary exception, must have its root in our very nature ; it
must be as much a part of our original constitution, as the blood
that circulates in our veins ; for, it is manifest that it does not
depend upon outward circumstances, which as they are variable in
themselves, must, wherever they are concerned , produce a corres
ponding variety of result. All this will be very imperfectly ex

* Though not often in accord with Doctor Johnson , yet we per

fectly agree with him in his detestation of these " cui bono" block
heads ; nothing with them is good that does not administer to their
immediate sensual gratification ; they look to the body only, and as
long as that is well fed, well lodged , and well clothed, they seek no,
further ; the mind they leave to take care of itself ; that is a matter
altogether beyond the sphere of their enquiry ; almost all the old
artists of the present day are men of this description ; they hate
youth with a perfect and heartfelt rancour, because they have been
taught to know something better than themselves ; poetry is above
all the object of their abhorrence ; they detest it with a most fero
cious and orthodox spirit ; yet the cui bono might with just as
much reason be applied to painting, sculpture, and architecture,
as to poetry ; architecture more particularly adds very little to the
stock of enjoyment ; it is at best a poor, cold art, and has little
connexion with the fancy- of course we speak in comparison with
its rivals ; the power of poetry to exalt, refine, ameliorate and de
light, is unequalled ; nothing is so potent in expanding the mind to
goodness, and enlarging its capability of enjoyment.
 iii

plained by supposing the use of poetry to have arisen from the fa

cilities which it offered to memory at a time when the art of writing
was unknown ; such a cause would be very unequal to the effect ;
besides we should still be left to seek a reason for its very powerful
influence over the civilized world, and thus we should have two dif
ferent causes producing the same result ; let it not however be sup
posed that we deny the possibility of such a proposition ; we only
mean to advocate the simplicity of truth ; when one cause is suffi
cient to one effect, why seek for two ? and here, moreover, the ap
parent difficulty is easy to be solved.
We believe then the love of poetry amongst a savage people
arises from the gratification its music affords the ear, and music
is at least the one-half ofthat which constitutes poetry ; it is music,
which above all distinguishes it from prose ; its metaphors, its
personifications , similies, and array of figures, may, and indeed
are , used in oratory, but this gives us a strong marked line of dis
tinction, which would puzzle the most cavilling critic to pass over.
The reader perhaps will be startled at our expression ; yet it is no
less just ;* music is not necessarily connected with singing in its
common acceptation, nor with any instrument ; they are but
modes of producing it, not the thing itself ; music is nothing more
than sounds so modulated as to produce harmony without any kind
ofreference to the manner of its production , and as such its presence
in poetry is sufficiently intelligible ; in fact poetry has both time
and tune, the foundation and very essence, as it were, of music.
That this love for music should be so general is by no means extra
ordinary ; were it not so, hearing would be the only one of our

All nations seem orginally to have felt this, for song and poetry
were with them synonimous terms, and the same mode of expres
sion has descended to modern times ; the Greek ade , the Latin
canere, the Italian cantare, the German singen, the English sing,
the French chanter, are invariably with their synonimes and cor
responding nouns applied to poetry. To give examples of a subject
so familiar would only be to incumber our pages ; it is sufficient to
have pointed out the fact ; the reader's memory will furnish him
with many more illustrations than are requisite.
a2
 iv

senses left without any means of gratification ; we have no more

reason to be surprised at the ear delighting in sweet sounds than
at the taste being pleased with sweet substances.
Besides there is a wonderful power in abstract sounds, that is,
sounds considered by themselves without any association of ideas,
to which latter alone the effect of music is generally but falsely
attributed ; not that we mean to deny to the association of ideas all
influence ; we only say it does not effect every thing ; there is
most unquestionably a mysterious connexion between sounds and
the human mind through the organ of hearing ; whether it is that
the nerves are affected, and if so, in what manner, is more than
we can take upon us to decide ; the question we suspect is purely
physical. Such, however, being the influence of abstract har
mony, it is clear that language must gain encreased power, and
would be more pleasing by an union with it ; the tale of the lover
would become more impassioned, and the war-cry of the hero more
inspiring ; and, though the savage would not argue thus , he would
feel thus ; this instinctive love of harmony would soon teach him
to modulate language, and the very first trial would lead to repe
tition by its success .
We have said that music is an essential part of poetry, but it is
far from being all ; something more is wanting to its just defini
tion, a definition which it should seem is difficult to be given,
for though many have tried to explain the term, none, as far as we
remember have succeeded ; even the ingenious Hazlitt has failed in
the effort, and he appears to have been conscious of the failure, for
instead of one, he gives twenty definitions ; this looks much like
doubting the truth of the first offered ; were that perfect, the rest
would be superfluous. —But to our own ideas on this subject, which
we offer in the hope, not in the certainty, oftheir correctness.
Poetry is the expression in language modulated to music, of all
that is subjected to the senses, acted upon by the imagination ; we
say, " acted upon by the imagination," for it does not pretend to
describe any object or passion with the accuracy of demonstration ,
but as such object is presented to the fancy ; and, as we shall see
hereafter, a better idea of any thing is thus conveyed than by more
precise details .
 It may perhaps be objected to this definition, that it does not go
far enough ; that poetry sometimes describes things that do not
exist in nature, and therefore are not the subject of the senses ; to
this we reply at once, impossible ; no poet can create if he would ;
he may exaggerate or diminish reality, or combine matter,
colour, or passions, which according to nature never are met
in combination ; still the component parts of this description
must be borrowed from the visible world, which originates and
limits all our ideas ; thus the whole or aggregate of images
may be false, but each individually must exist in nature, though
perhaps diminished or exaggerated.
It may now be said that poetry is founded in falsehood ; to this
also we demur ; the impression may be no more than truth, when
that which produces it is false, for there is a vast disproportion
between language and the impression it gives rise to. This will
be made plain by reference to a sister art ; suppose a sculptor
wished to form a figure that should appear as large as life,
when at the distance of a hundred feet or more from the ground ;
it is quite clear that the parts, which make up this object, must
be all equally enlarged, to bring about the desired effect, and thus,
though the figure itself is exaggerated, the impression arising from
it is no more than truth. It is the same, or nearly the same with
poetry ; the sluggishness of fancy, the slowness to incitement, in
the one case are equivalent to distance in the other ;-if the poet
would bring home to the reader's imagination the idea of exceeding
height, he must exaggerate the different images requisite to that
notion ; thus for instance, Shakspeare in his description of Dover
Cliffsays :
The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air,
Shew scarce so gross as beetles : half way down
Hangs one that gathers samphire ; dreadful trade !
Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head.
The fishermen that walk upon the beach,
Appear like mice ; and yon tall anchoring bark,
Diminish'd to her cock ; her cock a buoy
Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge,
That on the uncumber'd idle pebbles ehafes,
Cannot be heard so high.
a3 KING LEAR, a, 4, s. 6.
 vi

Now, not one word of this description is true ; the crows and
choughs do not look so small as beetles ; the man gathering sam
phire half way down the rock does not seem " no bigger than his
head ; " the boat does not appear diminished to her cock ; and the
roaring of the surge would be distinctly heard, if the rock were as
high again as it really is ; here then is a description , the separate
images of which are all locally untrue ; still the effect on the
reader's fancy, resulting from the whole combined is little, if at all
beyond reality ; he conceives at once the enormous height of the
eliff, much better than he would from any arithmetical statement
of its feet and inches ; we cannot carry measure in our eye, and
even if we could, a dry detail would have no effect upon the fancy ;
the terrors of the height would not be present to the mind from
such a statement, because the cliff itself would not be visible to
the imagination .
Another draw-back to what is usually supposed to be exaggera
tion is the superior power of the poet's fancy, when compared
with that of his readers ; the one will find beauty in a barren
heath or a stormy sky, while the other sees nothing in them, or
nothing but deformity ; the poet, wishes to communicate the pic
ture which is present to his own fancy ; his mind is filled with
images that would not occur to another traversing the same
ground, and these he delineates with the same glow that he him
self feels ; here then will be two sources of apparent exaggera
tion ; first his impression or sensation of the objects seen is
more acute ; secondly he must equalize the disproportion be
tween language and its effects by exaggerating the former ; but
a dull matter of fact critic comparing such a description with
his own recollection, will be disposed to think all is false, be
cause these are objects which he did not see, and feelings which
he did not feel ; the barren waste brought no other idea to his
mind, but that of dreariness ; he saw neither beauty nor subli
mity; his impressions therefore are different, and to this is su
peradded the necessary and natural aggravation in the language.
All this of course applies more immediately to description, and
that too of inanimate nature ; but then it extends to exaggeration
of one kind as well as another-to that of deformity as well as
beauty ; all depends upon the texture of the poet's mind ; the
gloomy Byron would find a desert in a flower garden, and the vo
luptuous Moore would as certainly find a flower garden in a desert.
 vii

In regard to the human passions as detailed by the poet, other

considerations will arise. Society now is a different thing from
what it used to be ; it is a machine, the several parts of which
must move in a proscribed course, each being subordinate to and
actuated by the whole ; there is no room for the growth of peculiar
disposition ; we are melted down, as it were, into one mass ; each
one has in a great measure lost his individuality ; each is a part of
a whole, not a whole of himself; each acts, and even, in a great
measure, thinks with those around him ; instead of righting wrong
or avenging insult with the sword, we fight our quiet battles in the
halls ofjustice : quills are our weapons, lawyers are our soldiers ;
instead of our blood, we spend our fortune in our quarrels ; the
same passions exist, but they do not find the same outlets ,
and moreover, they are considerably modified by education , effe
minacy, and the blunted state of feeling ; we have infinite po
lish but little energy ; we do less evil, but then we do less good ;
we may have as much courage, but we certainly are not so much
in love with danger ; if we do not run from it, we do not wil
lingly go to meet it ; we are not so fast friends, so kind mas
ters, so faithful servants, so true lovers, nor so attached kinsmen
the romance of life is over-the poetry of feeling is no more- the
present is essentially a prosaic age-we have reversed the whole
system of our forefathers ; their existence from beginning to
end was purely romantic ; there was excess in all their doings ,
good or bad ; there was no effeminacy, no half- measures, either in
their vice or in their virtue ; all with them was on a scale of colossal
greatness ; the passions of every class shot forth luxuriantly
without controul ; society was like the soil of the new world ;
where the earth is rich to rankness, and from R the overflowing
abundance of its fertility, brings forth the most noxious weeds and
the most envenomed insects. They were all energy and courage,
because energy and courage were requisite to existence ; they
slept as it were with the sword in their grasp ; all the habits, and
necessities of their life tended to brace their minds and bodies,
and in both respects they were giants. Here then were to be
found examples of all that could most dignify or most debase
our nature.
1
To this turbulent period succeeded a time, of all others the most
favourable to poetry, a time in which order prevailed , and the
 viii

ground was cultivated, but the richness of the soil was not yet
drained ; men thought and acted as vigorously, but not as
wildly as before :-the poet had excellent materials to work upon
in the life that surrounded him , and even if that were not enough
for his genius, he might borrow from the time which was still fresh
to the fancy ofmen ; his cotemporaries were minds ofthe same bold
stamp, though bitted and curbed by social discipline, and would
acknowledge the reality of his pictures. * It is not fair therefore
to condemn such writers, because we have not the same originals
before us ; and equally unjust is it to censure modern poets, who
are forced to borrow their description of the passions from them,
because the tameness of modern life is utterly inadequate to the
purposes of tragic action ; hence also it is that we find the de
scriptive poets of the present day are infinitely superior to those
who exhibit human nature, for man has acquired from different
habits a different and less interesting seeming, but inanimate
objects, the earth , the sky, the heavens, remain unaltered . It is
indeed true that the desert may have become fertile, and fer
tility may have become desert ; earth and ocean may have changed
their places ; still the materials are the same ; there is the same
grandeur, the same beauty ; the change is local, not general.
In regard to Epic, Lyric, and the minor kinds of poetry, all ci
vilized nations are agreed, and simply from this- they all have
taken the Greek for their model ; -in regard to the stage the
matter is reversed ; the Italian and French have been contented
to imitate, and very indifferently, the Grecian masterpieces,
while the English have formed a school for themselves upon very
different principles, which has been successfully followed by the
Germans. Nothing can be more absurd than to try an English
Dramatist by the laws of Grecian Tragedy ; it is mangling a
giant in the bed of Procrustes ; the two are essentially distinct
in the principles of their construction. If we look for a mo

* We do not by all this mean to decide that the rudeness of an

cient society is preferable to modern refinement ; that point is not
at all in question ; we only wish to shew that the passions have not
been exaggerated by tragedy, but tamed down by modern habits
perhaps for the better.
 ix

ment at their respective origins, we cannot fail to perceive this

truth . The Greek Tragedy grew out of a single ode, of which
it has all the characteristics ; its simplicity of form, its loftiness
of language, and its abundance of description ; the foundation
was narrow, and the building could not extend beyond the foun
dation ; to speak plainly the Greek Drama, though beautiful in
its language, by turns tender, sublime, pathetic, is yet as a
whole a very rude construction ;-witness the prologue which
opens the play, and narrates so much of antecedent events,
and of the persons concerned, as is requisite to the right and
full understanding of the subsequent matter. Again the nun
tius, or messenger, who comes and relates the catastrophe which
of course loses half its effect by the tameness of the recital ;
narration always throws objects at a vast distance, thus lessen
ing their greatness, and making them indistinctly visible.- Still
worse is the chorus ; it occupies the stage in defiance of all pro
bability, and seems rather a spectator than an actor in the
scene-but of this presently.
The English Drama grew out of rude representations, called Mo
ralities and Mysteries ; these sometimes borrowed their fables from
the Old and New Testaments, and sometimes personified the
abstract passions and qualities of mind, combining them in a simple
story. And here we should observe, by the way that this personi
fication seems borrowed from the mythology of Greece and Rome,
where Strength, Fortitude, Love, &c. were worshipped as deities .
By degrees profane histories were introduced, but still upon the
same plan as the Moralities and Mysteries ; the object was not,
as with the Greeks, the imitation of a tragic action , but a his
tory, whether true or false, scriptural or profane, abounding in
interesting incidents ; it was not a single action, but a multitude
of actions. Comedy would naturally be intermixed from its obvious
utility in affording a relief to tragie darkness, and still more as ex
isting in that real world from which their stories emanated in the
first instance. To observe the unities of time, place, and action,
would be utterly impossible to such a school ; a large portion of
history, whether general or peculiar, could not be told without
supposing many actions, many actions could as little happen in
 X

the same place, and the variety in these, of course, called for a
large allowance of time. Thus, the origin and consequent ten
dencies of the English drama were totally opposed to that of
Athens. The latter was essentially heroic ; its fables were heroic,
and the manner of handling them no less so ; any history that was
real, or exhibited natural events and passions, was adopted without
selection by the English drama ; the one told a tale, partly in
dialogue and partly by narration , but chiefly by the latter ; the
dialogue only seemed to link the different parts of the recital to
gether ; the other, on the contrary, puts the whole into action ; the
story is not told but acted before our eyes. It only remains to con
sider which system deserves the preference.
It must be allowed that the Greek tragedy shuts out variety by
the rigid observation of the unities, and the utter exclusion of
comedy. * This same monotony is extended to the language, which
is never marked by any visible differences according to the quality
and feeling of the characters ; it is always elevated and weighty,
the only distinction being, the chorusses are of a purely lyric
nature with all its perplexity of metaphor and involutions of speech,
while the iambic portion has all the tone and manner of epic poesy.
The structure is extremely rude ; nothing evinces this more strongly
than the awkward contrivance of the prologue to tell what the story
ought to tell for itself; all reality is destroyed by this immediate
address to the spectators . In the middle of the play the presence of
the chorus is no less to be deprecated ; their cold moralizing on the

* In saying, the " utter exclusion of comedy," we have gone,

perhaps, too far ; there are a few, a very few instances of comedy
being intermixed with tragedy, but always most sparingly and of an
undecided character ; indeed they would hardly have been worth
mentioning, but to stop the mouth of cavil, which would otherwise
have cried out on our inaccuracy. To the learned reader these ex
amples must be sufficiently familiar ; the unlearned may be fully
informed by referring to Twining's translation of Aristotle, in the
notes to which he has amply discussed the subject .— We therefore
spare quotations, for this article is already too extended, and we
have still much matter on our hands.
 xi

story is an utter enemy to all illusion ; they are detached fragments,

by no means necessary adjuncts to the fable ; they can in no way
be said to forward the plot, but are to be considered as so many
comments on a given text. The messenger is, if possible, a still
more clumsy invention ; like the chorus , he hardly seems a portion
of the play ; besides, there is too much of narration and too little
of action ; a Greek tragedy seems to be no more than the recital of
some act ; an English tragedy seems to be the act itself ; in the
one case we are, as it were, bye-standers and witnesses of quarrels,
and love, and events of all sorts, without actually mingling in that
which passes before us ; in the other, we are only called upon to
listen to the telling of such things ; in the one case the act is
brought close to us ; in the other it is softened and thrown at a
distance by the dense medium of narration . The comparison, thus
far, is certainly in favour of our poets.
It may, perhaps , he said, that though the chorus, prologue , and
nuntius, are rude contrivances, still there is simplicity in the fable
of the Grecian drama. This unfortunate word simplicity, like nature,
is the constant theme of the critics, to whom it is a perfect
Will-o'-the-wisp, leading them into all manner of marshes and
quagmires ; these magic phrases have over them the same power
that Oberon's horn had over the enemies of Sir Huon, and
no sooner do they catch the sound than a perfect phrenzy seizes
them , and they play as many wild antics with language, as the
monks and nuns did with their feet ; it has been a sad stumbling
block, and yet, we apprehend, the subject is so easy that it hardly
merits a dozen words in the way of explanation . Simplicity of story
can only be a merit inasmuch as it may be more perfectly compre
hended, or as it may be more effective, or lastly, as it may, by its
superior difficulty of execution , require greater talent to its ac
complishments. Now it has not one of these advantages, not even
the last-mentioned, which yet would be a very equivocal recom
mendation. In regard to the first point, we know, by experience,
that a complex fable may be perfectly understood ; the mind has
no more difficulty in combining or unravelling the different parts,
than the eye has in taking in the varieties of an extended prospect ;
this is proved by the fables of Shakspeare's plays, which, certainly,
are complex, that is, they are made up of different actions ; it is,
 xii

no doubt, possible so to perplex a plot as to render it unintelligible

to the casual glance of the spectator ; but this is supposing an ex
I
treme case, which has nothing to do with our question.
As to simplicity of fable being more effective , this, if at all, must
be, we should think, by directing the attention to one object, which
thus has a more vivid impression ; but this, like the former, sup
poses an extreme case ; a play occupies sufficient time for the mind
to embrace many objects, though certainly there is a limit to this
power ; but we are inclined to go farther ; an action, considered by
itself is not so distinct as when by the side of others, for thus com
parison arises, which throws it more forward ; variety, too, is the
soul ofbeauty.
As to simplicity being more easy of execution , that, as far as
story is concerned, is palpably absurd ; surely two incidents must
be more difficult of invention and management than one.
In point of character, the English drama is most incontestibly the
superior. In the Athenian tragedy, the mind always wears, if we
may be allowed a bold expression , the same costume ; indeed the
individual character of the Greek appears to have been lost in the
general one of his nation ; at least such are the portraits painted by
their dramatists ; now the English, on the contrary, have less of
national character than any people in existence ; each individual
is too strongly marked by his own peculiarities to wear a general
uniform . Hence it is, perhaps, that our drama has acquired this
advantage, which it possesses to so great an extent, that one play of
Shakspeare has more portraits of character, than are to be found in
all the Greek tragedies collectively, that time has left to us.
In sublimity, pathos, imagery, and all that regards language,
the points of advantage are more equal ; yet here they hardly come

Though we use the present tense, of course we speak more

particularly in reference to the ages gone by ; yet, even now, the
Englishman is more marked as an individual than his neighbours ;
it used to show itself in passions, and now it peeps out in humours.
We notice this lest the text, not being rightly understood, should
appear to militate against what we before advanced.
to a level in the comparison ; their pathos, especially, is too stately ;
there is no relaxation ; it is all in the same key. Here too, where
simplicity would be well employed, we do not find it ; the diction
of Greek tragedy is any thing but simple ; it is perfectly Eastern,
exalting common ideas by every artifice of language ; Shakspeare,
on the other hand, had the art of being poetical without these
complexities of expression; he is, indeed, occasionally perplexed,
but this arises from the compressed energy of his language,
and not from such unmeaning hyperboles.
The observance ofthe Unities, the great theme of praise to the
Greeks, seems to us one ofthe principal causes of their inferiority.
One action is hardly of sufficient weight to interest long together ;
it loses much too, as we before observed, from standing alone, from
having nothing near to relieve or heighten its effect ; it makes the
character, too, monotonous, for character, like glass with many
surfaces must be exposed in many ways to the light, if we wish
to be acquainted with the varieties of its brilliance.
And what is lost by the neglect of the two unities of time and
action ? Some critics would reply, reality ; for, according to them,
ten days with their corresponding events cannot occur by any
power of fancy in three hours. Now, setting aside that the Greek
tragedy has not the remotest pretensions to reality, and therefore
could gain nothing on that score by such observance, this is at
least a curious argument, but no less curious is the answer of
Doctor Johnson, who poorly pilfered the poor reasoning from
Farqhuar, and notwithstanding all his pretended love for truth ,
forgot to acknowledge the obligation—“ It is false," he says,
" that any representation is mistaken for reality ; that any dra
matic fable in its materiality was ever credible, or for a single
moment was ever credited." -To use the words of Shakspeare's
Escalus, " which is the wiser here ? justice or iniquity ?"-In good
sooth, the Doctor , was a marvellous animal where poetry was in
question, and some of his discoveries were truly wonderful ;
amongst many other points of equal wisdom he found out that
blank verse was no more than prose, and that Gray was not a poet,
which admirable results he has couched in language equally admir
b
 xiv

able ; but we may very safely leave the Doctor and his materialities;
there is no truth to be got from that quarter.
The secret of the unities of time and action lies in a very narrow
compass. -As long as the mind is occupied by any fiction, that
fiction is to it a reality ; it does not consider but voluntarily
believes ; that particular faculty of the mind, which may be called
reason, lies dormant ; its operation is purposely suspended, and
imagination is nearly if not entirely the only active power ;
whatever is so weak that it fails to keep it in this state of excita
tion, or so exaggerated that it violently arrests its operation,
equally tends to awaken the reasoning faculty, and the consequence
is, the illusion is destroyed ; the fiction , which was truth to the
imagination, is a falsehood to the reason. Here, at once , we get a
clue to the whole mystery ; so long as the action flows on in one
uninterrupted progress the fancy is satisfied ; let there be any
striking chasm, any complete breaking off in the story, and the
imagination is also stopt in its career. For instance, in " The
Winter's Tale," there are several distinct actions occupying days
before the supposed death of Hermione, to all of which the imagi
nation accedes ; but when the poet destroys the link and wishes us
to suppose that years are past, which years are marked by no visible
action , then, indeed, we can endure no longer ; the thoughts in
our minds go on link by link, and that which we are called upon to
believe must go on in the same progression ; it is not then, Unity,
but uninterrupted continuation ofaction, that is requisite to reality.
The unityof place is thus naturally destroyed, for it is impossible
to conduct a multitude of opposite events on one spot of ground ;
and even here the same rule seems to hold ; we bear the being
transported from one house to another, nay from distant parts of
the same country, and yet the wildest imagination would not endure a
change of scene from London to the Indies .- Why is this ? Simply,
because here again is supposed a breaking away of several links in
the chain to which the other unities are subservient.
The next subject which should demand our attention is, how far
horror may be admissible in tragedy. There is a sickliness of taste,
a mawkishness of refinement in the present day, which shrinks
 XV

frem its approach ; it is not many weeks since a British audience

gave a most convincing proof of this, and at the same time built
up a record to their own honour in hooting the scene in " King
John," between Hubert and the youthful Arthur ; truly we are
mending rapidly, and it is to be hoped a time may come when we
shall think with the candid, honest Voltaire, that Shakspeare is
no better than a barbarian ; the age is grown infinitely too critical
to be pleased ; nay, it will neither deign to smile nor shed a tear
without first instituting an enquiry how far such things may bejus
tified- But our feelings are leading us away ;-we must leave this
subject to be discussed when treating of some other play, and pro
ceed to Hamlet, from which we have been too long detained.
There is nothing in the whole circle of the drama, ancient or
modern, that can in any way be compared with Hamlet ; it stands
alone, a class of itself, neither second, nor like, to any other work
of genius . The common-place of criticism in vain would measure
out its faults and beauties ; its colossal greatness mocks all such
efforts ; it would be no less easy to take the height of the Andes
with a pair of compasses, or fathom the depths of the ocean with a
fishing line. Still this quibbling age, which, like lago, is " nothing
if not critical," has not been able to refrain from censure : Some
quarrel with the grave-diggers, and others find the inconsistencies
of Hamlet extremely unnatural ; but time, that tries all things,
proves all things , still steps forth to vindicate the poet ; from his
tribunal there is no appeal, but then his judgment is unerring ;
at the first touch of his iron hand these opinions crumble into dust,
and are scattered by the winds of oblivion, while all his efforts leave
not the slightest mark of injury on the adamant of Shakspeare.
No praise so truly speaks the merit of this admirable play, as that
which the poet himself has bestowed on his divine Cleopatra—
" Age cannot wither it, nor custom stale its infinite variety."
The beautiful character of Hamlet has been too often unjustly
treated ; he has indeed faults, great faults, amongst which irreso
lution is by no means the least ; that he is often inconsistent with
reason is true, but then he is never inconsistent with himself ; the
character is preserved with matchless truth from the beginning to
end ; that he is full of errors implies any thing rather than a cen
b2
 xvi

sure on the poet; had Hamlet been perfect he had not been human.
There could have been no great difficulty in making him most
heroically avenge his father's death upon his uncle ; he might have
been an Alexander in sables without any great exertion of talent on
the part ofthe author ; but such was not Shakspeare's mode of
delineating character ; he meant to paint a man, not to exhibit a
monster, and therefore Hamlet, like other men, acts from mixed
motives. If we understand the prince rightly, his imagination is
stronger than his understanding ; he is always busied in satisfying
the cravings of a romantic fancy, picturing to himself what he will
do, and thus losing the time for action in thinking upon its effects.
A morbid melancholy seems to have unstrung his whole frame, and
produced a mental lassitude which renders him incapable of ex
ertion ; he cannot act, but when action is literally forced upon him;
never indeed does he appear so happy as when, by some subtlety
of excuse, he can deceive himself and escape from the reality of
deeds. His purposes and his acts are ever at variance ; nor is this
strange ; his intents are the offspring of his excited imagination ,
not of understanding, and consequently when the fancy cools or
turns to some other object, the intention also fades ; it is a cloud
sailing on the winds of evening and changing with the winds. Every
line, every incident throughout the play in which he is concerned,
combine to create andjustify this opinion : When the ghost appears,
Hamlet is all energy ; his every thought is bent upon revenge ; he
will forget the records of his youth, the treasures of his studious
hours,-every thing-to think upon his father's wrongs and the
villainy of his uncle ; but the spirit passes away with the night, and
with it dies his energy ; his imagination, which was all his strength,
has slackened ; he will " have grounds more relative."-" The
spirit may be a devil.” —The play's the thing."-The play accord
ingly is tried and flashes conviction upon his mind ; he could
" drink hot blood, and do such business as the better day would
quake to look on"-but still his resolution is the creature of impulse
only, and fades with the fading impulse. It is impossible forthe eye
of dulness itselfto miss this trait ; it occurs perpetually throughout
the drama ; Hamlet is most consistent in his inconsistency ; always
irresolute, always intending, and never doing : And, surely, it re
 xvii

quires no high degree of observation to see that such a feature is

truly natural ; how often do we find men great in purpose when the
object is remote, yet fearing to grapple with it when time or op
portunity, has set it within their reach. This is a point so clear,
so self- evident, that any explanation or comment seems superfluous ;
and so indeed it would have been, but that some critics, and those
deservedly high in public estimation, have thought proper to find
great fault with Hamlet on this head. The iron hand of Johnson
has fallen most heavily on this play ; he observes, " the apparition
left the regions of the dead to little purpose ; the revenge is not
obtained but by the death of him, who was required to take it. "
And again, a little before this, he says, " after he has by the
stratagem of the play, convicted the king, he makes no attempt to
punish him ; and his death is at last effected by an incident, which
Hamlet had no part in producing."-There can be no doubt that
Hamlet would have acted more consonantly with sound reason, had
he punished the king, when he first received the information of his
guilt from the spirit, or at least, when the play had given him
assurance, an assurance which, when coupled with the other, it
was impossible for any one to disbelieve ; but Hamlet has any quality
rather than sound reason ; he is a creature of impulse, though he
always professes to admire men of contrary habits : This , however,
is the common fault with critics ; they first enquire how man, ge
nerally considered, ought to act, not how such a particular cha
racter would act ; and then if they find the subject of their
question deficient, they, without hesitation, pronounce the cha
racter to be unnatural ; as if all men squared their conduct by un
erring rules, or were always equal to themselves. It is scarcely
possible to read twelve pages following of any history without find
ing the wisest of mankind committing the silliest of actions and
and exposing themselves to the censure of the vulgar reader ; battles
and kingdoms are lost by errors which even the most inferior talent
could avoid were it placed under similar circumstances ; are we to
say, that Francis did not really exist, because with all his genius,
he was the dupe of his rival Charles the 5th of Austria ? or shall
we deny the existence of the same Charles because he himself was
deceived by the arts of Maurice of Saxony?-We must entreat the
b3
 xviii

reader's pardon for having dwelt so long upon the subject, but the
cause of Shakspeare sits most nearly at our heart ; he has long been
our best companion, friend, instructor- nay, we might almost say,
divinity; the habit of years has taught us to look upon him with
a holy regard, and naturally makes us anxious to snatch one of his
beautiful flowers from under the hoof of the critical elephant,
whose heavy tread had bent though it could not crush it. If any
admirer of Johnson think we treat his name with too little respect,
let him consider that the humblest talent is better authorized to
criticize Johnson, than he himself to attack Shakspeare ; were we
even in the dust, we yet should not be so far below the critic as he is
below the poet, whose glory is now as the polar star,'as bright and as
unchangeable. Besides, the writer who could publish such idle sophis
tries upon Gray, and, moreover, declared against blank verse, has alto
gether degraded himself from the lists of criticism ; he has himself
proclaimed that he is no true knight, and his arms should be broken,
and his name dishonoured. The fact is, and it is evinced by a thou
sand different declarations on his own part, that the heavy critic
had no ear for the music of poesy ; no verse was verse to him,
unless it was distinguished as such by rhyme ; he expected, what
many other pretenders to wisdom expect, that poetry should address
itselfto the understanding wholly, and not at all to the imagination ;
his own poetry evinces this without any other proof; it is little
more than harmonious prose, from which it differs only by the
stated recurrence of rhymes.- But he has too long led us from our
subject.
The rudeness, with which Hamlet treats Ophelia, has also been
objected to, and with as little reason as any of the foregoing een
sures have been past. His object was to convince the world that
he was essentially mad, and his conduct to Ophelia, whom he was
known to love most tenderly, was of all things the best calculated
to produce such belief. In fact he had no choice but to do so, or
trust her with his secret, an act of confidence that would have very
little corresponded with his general temper, in which suspicion is a
decided feature. So nicely jealous is he in this respect, that he will
not reveal the secret of the spirit's embassy even to his old college
associates ; nay, he is a niggard of it to his bosom friend, Horatio,
 xix

and when at last circumstances require him to choose a participator

in his secret, he doles it out to him with reluctance and in frag
ments. It can not, therefore, be a rational subject of surprise that
he does not trust Ophelia, the daughter of a rank courtier, one
deeply in the king's interest, one who it was notorious, borrowed
his every look, thought, and word, from the complexion of royalty,
and would, moreover, have sold the fee-simple of his own salvation
for a smile from the king : not trusting, his only remedy was to
deceive, and this could be done in no way so effectually, as by the
method he adopts . As to Johnson's remark that, " of the feigned
madness of Hamlet there appears no adequate cause, for he does
nothing, which might not have been done with the reputation of
sanity," it is, to say the least of it, very singular. We should
think a very sufficient cause might be found in apprehended danger
from his uncle, who, he has just learnt, is the murderer of his father,
and who might be imagined , without any violent tendency to
suspicion, to entertain no very favourable designs towards the son ;
his first object was evidently like that of the elder Brutus, to
save himself from the suspicious eye of a tyrant by feigning a state
of mind that could not injure, and surely the madness of the one
is as good a disguise as the idiotism of the other : he had, besides,
a further cause in pretending insanity, as a cloak to his own pro
jects against the king, who, on all occasions, betrays a most uneasy
feeling towards him, a feeling which it was the interest of Hamlet
to avoid as much as possible. Such considerations would have
influence with any disposition, much more with a mind so con
stituted as that of the prince, jealous in the extreme, and almost
fearing to trust itself. That this point is not strained to meet the
argument may be abundantly proved ; there is no one person,
no one incident, throughout the play, of which Hamlet is not
suspicious ; he distrusts his friends, Marcellus and Bernardo, and
even the affectionate Horatio ; he doubts the king, and yet is no
less distrustful of the spirit, from whose information the guilt of
the king appears-" it may be a devil "-he will not confide in
Ophelia though he loves her, and " forty thousand brothers could
not with all their quantity of love make up the sum; " he is still less
disposed to trust Rosencrantz or Guildenstern, and openly expresses
 XX

so much to them before they have uttered half a dozen sentences ;

the very same feeling he exhibits towards his mother, when, with
bitter irony, he advises her to betray the secrets, of their conference
to the king her husband ; when on board the ship his suspicion
keeps him awake and makes him " finger their packet ;" and
finally a similar disposition teaches him to doubt, when invited
" to play with Laertes ;"-" thou would'st not think how ill all's
here about my heart," is his simple and pathetic remark upon the
exit ofthe lord who brings the summons. Naturally distrustful, we
find a reason for the aggravation of the feeling in his peculiar circum
stances of danger ; " benetted round with villainies," he knows not
whom to trust and here we at once see the existence, and the
cause of his extreme suspicion. That such a man, so situated,
should have recourse to any artifice to conceal his real intents and
feelings from the world is by no means wonderful ; if there be any
matter for surprise on this occasion , it is that Johnson should
venture such a criticism ; it is scarcely possible to believe that he
had ever read the play, for though he had no relish for poetry,
he could hardly be deceived in a point like this.
With all these defects in himself, Hamlet is still the object of
our love and sympathy ; there is a harmony in his mind that is
exquisitely beautiful ; it breathes a melancholy, but a most melo
dious music ; he seems like some lovely flower that has been half
broken by a tempest, and looks even lovelier in its fall. Besides,
the sufferings of a great mind, and Hamlet has a great mind, are
always more intense than those of a weak one, as the bodily pangs
of the strong man are always more acute than those of a feeble
habit, and our sympathy is, for the most part, proportioned to the
apparent quantity of pain endured. Nor does he lose any of our
esteem from his irresolution , for it evidently does not proceed from
deficiency of courage ; the poet with masterly art has contrived
to show us this in the very outset ; when his three compeers shrink
from the idea of following the spirit, and Horatio draws a fearful
picture of the probable consequences, he is no jot moved from his
intent ; he will, and does follow " though it blast him ." No des
cription of his courage could have effected so much in his behalf as
this single action, for description, like distance, presents every
 xxi

thing in softened and diminished colours. But, indeed, the mind

of Hamlet is beautiful throughout ; there is not one truly leprous
spot in it ; the few failings that cast a shade upon it here and there
only serve to bring out more vividly its contrasted virtues, which
are of the highest kind ; he is brave, pious , learned, affectionate,
full of fervour and fancy ; all his ideas are those of an uncommon
genius, that perhaps loves too much to dwell in the kingdom of the
imagination, but in this he loses nothing of our regard ; he is so
evidently above us that he must command our admiration . Indeed
Shakspeare has been most liberal in his gifts to this child of his
exhaustless fancy ; he has exalted him preeminently above all the
other characters in his language and sentiments ; every one must
feel that neither Horatio, nor Laertes, nor Ophelia, could utter
such soliloquies as he does ; they are evidently the creation of an
unrivalled genius, are peculiar to himself, and seem, as it were, a
part of his very ess nce. The very brightness of the other charac
ters tends to confirm and heighten this feeling of his superiority ;
Horatio could not be the friend, nor Ophelia be enamoured, nor
the mother and uncle stand in awe, of a common-place mind, and
thus each in their respective though opposite sentiments towards
him bear witness to his empire.
Ophelia is one of that class of characters which our great poet
seems more particularly to have delighted in ; she is at once tender,
simple, and affectionate, and even in her madness this matchless
genius has contrived to preserve with unbroken consistency the
same characteristics. She utters none of that idle jargon which
inferior writers are accustomed to employ, and which, because it is
not sense, they are willing to believe is the proper language of
insanity, as if any nonsense bolstered up with mighty epithets and
swelling phrases were synonimous with madness ; her " nothing's
more than matter," and never were scenes more touching than
those in which Ophelia appears when deprived of her senses ; they
appeal directly and forcibly to the heart, and it must be a heart of
stone that can resist the appeal. What, for instance, can be more
beautiful, more sublimely pathetic, than Ophelia's manner of dis
tributing the flowers ? wound up as it is by the simple exclamation,
"I would give you some violets, but they withered all, when my
 xxii

father died." This is indeed pathos , pathos that flushes the cheek
and makes the eye grow dim whenever it is read, though it may
have been read a thousand times before.
The constant recurrence to that one cherished idea, her father,
is most strictly natural, for it is the peculiar disposition of madness
to view every thing it comes in contact with in reference to some
single absorbing thought that has possessed it, as a coloured glass
lends its own tinct to every object which is seen through it ; nothing
can be more erroneous than the idea which the generality of poets
evidently entertain , that insanity indulges in any nonsense indis
criminately ; there is most frequently a startling mixture of sense
with its errors, and it always lays hold on some one idea to which it
clings pertinaciously, connecting and referring almost every thing
to it in some way or another. It is this exclusive and overwhelm
ing mastery of one particular thought that constitutes madness,
distinguishing it from idiotism, which does not think at all ; it
raves, it is true, but then its ravings have a determinate object.
All this Shakspeare has shown in the wanderings of Ophelia's mind;
indeed nothing* can surpass the truth of this lovely character ; it
is drawn with unerring hand ; all the light, delicate shades, the
sudden flyings-off and as sudden returns to the subject, which are
peculiar to insanity, he has here touched with unexampled nicety.
Polonius is a picture of no less truth ; it is a character which we
shall in vain look for in Greek, German, and Italian, or French
tragedy. Loquacious , supple, on the very verge of dotage, the
wreck of a mind, that in its best days, mistook cunning for wisdom,
he contrasts delightfully with the King and Hamlet, and relieves

* When we say that nothing can surpass Ophelia's madness, we

must be understood as speaking with reference to other authors,
for without this limitation king Lear would at once contradict our
assertion. But look to Racine, the Baal of the French ; what can
be more absurd than the wretched, bloated nonsense that Orestes
utters in his madness ; it is all blood, fire , and fury. If it be any
thing at all it must be the delirium of fever ; it certainly is not
madness.
 xxiii

the gloomy colouring of the scene by the exposition of a weakness,

for which we can feel no sympathy . Had he been less busy and
more virtuous in his dotage, he would have excited pity, and drawn
down the general odium upon Hamlet ; but he is so industrious in
exposing himself, that we only laugh at him, and at last feel very
little, if any, sorrow at his death ; he " made love to the employ
ment," and there is no reason for his being "6 near the conscience "
of Hamlet.
As in the madness of Ophelia, Shakspeare has preserved the same
tone of character that distinguished her better hours, so in the
wane and second childhood of Polonius we may easily read what the
old courtier once had been ; it is not a picture of dotage abstract
edly considered ; but of dotage acting upon a peculiar character ;
or, in other words, enough of the original character shines through
the dotage of the one, as through the madness of the other, to show
what either must have been ; a beauty, which we will venture to
say, is to be found in no other poet whatsoever, unless perchance it
should exist among the Spanish dramatists, with whom we profess a
very distant acquaintance, and that through the imperfect medium
of German translation.
The characters ofthe King, Queen, and Laertes, though theywould
outweigh a score of French heroes and lovers, are yet drawn with
less ofinviduality than is usual with Shakspeare ; they speak beau
tiful speeches and are placed in excellent situations, but they have
none of those nicer shades that delight us in Hamlet, Ophelia, and
the old Polonius ; they have no peculiar feature, no distinguishing
mark ; their thoughts and actions do not seem to be the necessary
result of their several dispositions.
Ofthe spirit we hardly know what to think, and offer our opinion
with considerable reluctance and doubt of its propriety. That the
language of the ghost is eminently beautiful and appropriate is
certain beyond all controversy ; there is, indeed , a feeling of mor
tality in the thoughts and images of his speech, but then it is
enveloped in a halo of mystery that renders all dark, and
unearthly ; still there is something so nearly allied to substance
in the idea of language, that we find some difficulty in believing it
is a spirit speaking notwithstanding the exquisite art with which
 xxiv

that speech is managed ; it at once makes us familiar with him,

and flings us back on the world and its associations. Privations of 01
any kind are terrible and sublime, whether it be of light or sound ;
utter darkness or utter silence are in this respect the same,
for they give full scope to the fancy, whereas light and sound, on
the contrary, curb the imagination by showing reality and take
away that doubt which is one grand source of the sublime. Still
less do we admire the armour, and other substantial appurtenances
on this incorporeal being, who yields like air before the blow of a
human hand ; he at once loses his unearthly nature, and is
levelled down to our own being ; he becomes too distinct ; his form
F
and proportions are too visibly made out ; we find him such as our
selves are, and doubt is at an end.
E
In regard to the speech of the spirit precedents might indeed be
pleaded in excuse or justification ; as two examples, where many
might be adduced, if many were requisite, we have the ghost of Cly
temnestra in the Euvides (Furies) of Eschylus, haranguing the t
sleeping furies, and inciting them in good set terms to pursue her
son for vengeance ; and again, in the Hecuba of Euripides, we find
the ghost of Polydore opening the play, and telling the audience
the history of his birth, parentage, and education ; this latter,
indeed, is the most courteous of all ghosts, the very pink of polite
ness and good-will, for he takes the trouble of travelling all the way
from hell, for no other purpose but to explain the business of the play
to the spectators : the only fault that can possibly be found with him
is his loquacity and egotism ; no German nobleman ever dwelt with
more relish upon his ancestors than does this communicative spirit
upon the story ofwho begot him ; nothing could be more in point than
this worthy gentleman ; but Shakspeare is not a man to be excused
or condemned by precedent ; he is the master, the sole monarch of
his art, by whose laws others are to be tried, not he to be adjudged
by their tribunal. We do not, however, take upon ourselves to 10
decide against the poet ; we simply mean to state our doubts, and
we trust it has been done with that modesty which becomes every
critic in writing upon the immortal Shakspeare ; on all occcasions
it is much more easy to censure than to convict of error ; more
especially then will this be the case when treating of one who in
e
 XXV

himself has shown the utmost boundary of human genius, and

which has not hitherto been even approached by the combined ta
lent of many ages and many nations.
The scene between Hamlet, -Horatio, and the Grave-digger,
though it has ever been a stumbling- block to the French critics , is
not only a beautiful scene, but one of the most beautiful that ever
came from the pen of genius ; of course we speak of it, as it is writ
ten, not as it is acted , which is in direct opposition to the author's
meaning, and rather seems intended for a burlesque than a just re
presentation. The apathy of the Grave-digger to his employment,
proceeding from long custom and the natural coarseness of a vulgar
mind-his " jowling the sculls to the ground," his singing while he
works, contrasted on the other hand with the feverish sensitiveness
of Hamlet, and the calmness of Horatio, who is by nature, more
than by education, a philosopher-the opposite remarks of each
party, so strongly coloured by the mind and habits of the person
speaking-all, combined, form a scene of unrivalled excellence and
mastery over the feelings. The utter recklessness of the clown ,
like a dark ground in a picture, throws off more strongly the light
that emanates from Hamlet ; his language considered by itself
would excite laughter, for it is coarse and vulgar, though at the
same time it has a strong tincture of knavish shrewdness ; but
coupled with Hamlet's mournful and exquisite remarks, it lends a
sterner solemnity to the whole, and teaches most painfully the va
uity of human greatness. Never was thing more skilfully contrived,
or more powerfully executed , than this scene ; however opposite the
feelings of Hamlet and the clown, and however suited their respec
tive speeches to these feelings , still they harmonize by their agree
ing tendency to one end ; to avoid still more the unpleasant effect of
too decided a contrast, which always appears, the result of artifice
and therefore unnatural, the poet has brought forward Horatio,
who equally remote from the apathy of the one, or the high
wrought sensibility of the other, softens, and unites the two ex
tremes. The effect is at last carried to its utmost, by the appear
ance of Yorick's scull ; the different recollections , which the two
parties entertain of him whose soul had once informed it, the place,
the time, at which the meeting occurs-by the half-dug grave of
the newly drowned Ophelia, in the very hour that the bell is calling
C
 xxvi

her to her last home- can any thing be conceived more pathetie,
more sublime ?
If we consider the plot in its individual parts, we may perhaps
find some few scenes that do not materially assist the progress of the
story ; but they are so rich in poetry, and tend so admirably to the
developement of the various characters, that he must he a heavy
critic who would consent to lose them. If we must call this a fault,
it is at least a fault that carries its own excuse in its beauty.
Shakspeare not only gave the full measure, but more than measure ;
his mind was wonderfully exuberant, and sometimes, like a flooded
river, poured forth its treasures too abundantly.
The catastrophe has been much censured , and always most un
justly, as if it had not weight corresponding with the substance of
the fable. The fault, however, is, in that craving appetite for the
wonderful which diseases the many, and not in the immortal poet ;
he well knew that the most important events in real life were often,
nay usually, brought about by means of very inferior dignity, and
not only on this, but on almost all other occasions, he has employed
the same species of developement.* The habit of the present day
expects a catastrophe of surprise ; the different threads of the story
are not to be gradually unravelled, but suddenly cut ; a play, like

* The great German Dramatist, Schiller, who was one of

Shakspeare's warmest admirers, has most literally and invariably
copied our poet in this respect. In the Robbers , Charles de Moor
ends the play by a long soliloquy, in which he delares his intention
of surrendering himself to justice ; Don Carlos is finished by the
King giving up his son to the Grand Inquisitor ; Fiesko ends, by the
republican conspirator declaring he will again join Doria, from
whom he has revolted ; indeed , throughout all his plays, we find
the same sort of catastrophe, except in The Jungfrau von Orleans,
(Maid of Orleans,) which concludes by Johanna, the Joan of Arc,
seeing Heaven open in a vision, and then expiring. But, truth to
say, our glorious Shakspeare has always been more justly appreci
ated by the Germans than by his own countrymen . The acute, the
eloquent Hazlitt, has indeed done honour to himself and the na
tion, but the people, generally speaking, whether high or low, are
not a poetical people ; they admire Shakspeare, because they are
 xxvii

an epigram, must finish with a point. It would be very difficult to

tell what is gained by this innovation, whereas it is a slight matter
to see that truth and beauty are sacrificed by it ; the very ground
work of it is a substitution of pantomimic action for words ; but
unfortunately people use more language than action ; for instance,
thoughthe family party atthe end of the " Stranger" may, for ought
we know, form a very pretty picture, it certainly has no prototype
in nature ; the kneeling, the dumb embrace, with master and
miss on either side, and half a dozen friendly spectators grouped
into attitudes like the leaden Mercury in a bowling-green, will no
where be found except upon the stage ; in life we do not so much
appeal to the eye as to the ear ; even those who use most action,
use it only as a secondary to enforce their words, and not as a sub
stitute for them.
Looking at the fable as a whole, it appears to abound in well
contrived and interesting incidents, which follow each other with
wonderful celerity ; yet at the same time the progress of the story
to its end is by no means so rapid as is usual in the plays of
Shakspeare ; this chiefly arises from the character of Hamlet,
whose uncertainty and irresolution seem to make the story always
beginning, and never ending ; it therefore cannot be charged as a
defect to the poet, though it makes many curtailments necessary
in the representation of the play : to the reader of judgment there
is not a single superfluous line. This difference of feeling between
the spectator and the reader must occur, more or less , in all
dramas ; nor is it difficult to see why it should be so ; it is seldom

told they ought to admire him ; but they are not for that a jot the
more sensible of his extraordinary merits. As for horror, they
have one and all a most decided aversion to it ; their delicate nerves
are not to be shaken.
Before concluding this long note, we would just quote another of
Johnson's remarks, which will show how admirably he was calcu
lated for a critic on Shakspeare. " The pretended madness of
Hamlet causes much mirth."-We cannot for a moment suppose
that Johnson did not understand what he read, but it is very fair
to conclude that he had not read the play when he undertook to
write the criticism.
 xxviii

that actors of established reputation will undertake second-rate

parts, and thus the inferior parts, which necessarily have few si
tuations , and are only employed to speak that which could not be
spoken by the others with propriety, fall into the hands of those
who are least capable of recitation : unsupported by action as these
characters are, talent of the first kind would' find it easy matter
to go through with them, and when therefore they are allotted
to inferior abilities they are tedious, and must be shortened.
The language of this play is more stately, something of a more
didactic cast, than we find in the other dramas of our poet : there is
not that decided difference in the speech of the different characters,
at least as far as manner and melody are concerned ; in ideas, as
we have before observed, Hamlet towers far above all that are con
nected with him in the scene. The verse is lofty, flowing, and
harmonious, swelling on the ear like the majestic pealing of an
organ. That some exceptions may be found to this, is true, more
particularly in the speeches of the mad Ophelia, many of which
possess a touching simplicity, yet the general tone of the play
bears out our first assertion . It follows of course, that the lan
guage has not that pithiness, that condensed energy, that hurry
of ideas, which are elsewhere to be noted King Lear, above all,
affords an illustration of our meaning ; there the ideas are huddled
one upon another with inconceivable rapidity ; the verse does not
flow, but gushes along like a torrent ; metaphors abound, but not
as ornaments ; they are only employed for the quicker conveyance
of the ideas ; the whole force of Shakspeare's unequalled mind is
poured forth without stint or measure, and his great anxiety seems
to be, to give us as much of it as possible ; if we may be allowed
the expression in the absence of a better, it is a play of emphasis ;
Hamlet, on the contrary, though perhaps not inferior is purely
poetical, and in that respect, as well as in its rich variety, leaves
far behind the loftiest efforts of the Grecian school ; indeed , were
it possible for all his other beautiful works to be destroyed, this
play alone would set the name of Shakspeare above the poets of
any time or nation, with which the world has hitherto been ac
quainted.
 Costume.

HAMLET.
Black doublet, trunks, cloak, and hose, of rich silk velvet, ele
gantly trimmed with bugles, buttons, and satin.
KING .
Black velvet doublet, and trunks, crimson velvet robe , elegantly
trimmed with gold.
POLONIUS.
Crimson doublet, and trunks, and cloak, trimmed with gold.
LAERTIS .
Green doublet, and trunks, cloak, trimmed with silver. Se
cond dress- Black velvet, ditto, ditto, with bugles and buttons.
HORATIO.
Scarlet doublet, trunks, and cloak, trimmed with silver.
ROSENCRANTZ.
Blue doublet, trunks, and cloak, trimmed with silver.
GUILDENSTERN.
Purple doublet, trunks, and cloak , trimmed with silver.
OSRICK.
White doublet, trunks, and cloak, trimmed with silver.
OFFICERS .
Buff doublet, trunks, and cloak, trimmed with silver.
PRIEST.
Black gown, with rosary and russet sandels.

OPHELIA.
1st Dress.-White satin dress, trimmed with silver ; and
spangled drapery. 2nd Dress.--Plain white muslin, and plain
white muslin veil.
QUEEN.
White satin dress, trimmed with silver ; blue velvet robe ; veil in
the fourth act.
PLAYER QUEEN.
1st Dress.- Grey Callico dress, grey callico scarf; and hat ;
trimmed with pink points. 2nd Dress .--White satin petticoat,
trimmed with gold ; black velvet train ; dress short in front ; and
trimmed with gold.
VIRGINS.
Plain white dresses.
 PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Drury-lane. Covent-garden.
Hamlet ...... Mr. Kean. Mr. Young.
King . Mr. Powell. Mr. Chapman.
Polonius.. .. Mr. Munden. Mr. Blanchard:
Laertes Mr. Wallack. Mr. Abbot.
Horatio .... Mr. Holland. Mr. B. Thornton.
Rosencrants Mr. Kent. Mr. Treby.
Guildenstern .... Mr. Fisher. Mr. Claremont..
Osric Mr. Penley. Mr. Farley. 1
Marcellus Mr. Miller. Mr. King.
Bernardo .... Mr. Cooke. Mr. Jeffries.
Francisco .Mr. Evans. Mr. Crumpton.
Priest.. .. Mr. Carr. Mr. Penn.. ↓
Sailor.. .. Mr. Ebsworth..
2 Sailor.. Mr. Appleby.
1 Actor Mr. Maddocks. Mr. Comer.
2 Actor Mr. Minton. Mr. Atkins
1 Gravedigger Mr. Dowton. Mr. Emery.
2 Gravedigger . Mr. Hughes . Mr. Menage..
Ghost ..
.... Mr. Pope. Mr. Egerton .
Gertrude .. Mrs. Brereton. Mrs. Egerton.
Ophelia ...... .... .... Miss Kelly. Miss Matthews ..
Actress ..... .......... ...Miss Tidswell. Miss Logan..

The time this piece takes in representation is about three hours

and seventeen minutes.-The first act occupies the space of fifty
one minutes-the second, thirty- the third, fifty-the fourth,
thirty-and the fifth, thirty-six.-The half price commences
generally about twenty minutes after nine.

Stage Directions :
By R. H....... is meant. ..... Right Hand:
L. H.... .... Left Hand.
S. E.. Second Entrance..
U. E. Upper Entrance.
M. D. .... Middle Door.
D. F. Door in Flat.
R.H.D. .... Right Hand Door.
L. H. D. .. .... Left Hand Door.
 HAMLET. *

ACT I.

SCENE I.-Elsinore.- A Platform before the

Palace.

Moonlight.- FRANCISCO on his Post, R.H.S.E.

Enter to him BERNARDO , L.H.

Ber. Who's there ?

Fran. Nay, answer me :-stand and unfold yourself.
Ber. Long live the king !
Fran. Bernardo ?
Ber. He.
Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour.
Ber. "Tis now struck twelve ; get thee to bed,
Francisco.
Fran. For this relief, much thanks :- 'tis bitter
cold,
And I am sick at heart. ( Crosses to L.H.) ·
Ber. Have you had quiet guard?
Fran. Not a mouse stirring.
Ber. Well, good night.
If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,
The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.
(Retires to R.H.)
Fran. I think I hear them.-Stand, ho ! Who is
there ?

* The story is taken from Saxo Grammaticus' Danish History.

+ Rivals-partners.
B
 HAMLET .

Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS , L.H.

Hor. Friends to this ground.

Mar. And liegemen to the Dane.
Fran. Give you good night. ( Crosses to L.H.)
Mar. O, farewell, honest soldier !
Who hath reliev'd you ?
Fran. Bernardo hath my place.
Give you good night. [ Exit Francisco, L.H.
Mar. Holloa ! Bernardo !
Ber. Say,
What, is Horatio there ?
Hor. A piece of him.
Ber. Welcome, Horatio ; welcome, good Marcel
lus.
Hor. What, has this thing appear'd again to-night ?
Ber. I have seen nothing.
Mar. Horatio says, ' tis but our fantasy :
And will not let belief take hold of him,
Touching this dreadful sight, twice seen of us :
Therefore I have entreated him along,
With us to watch the minutes of this night ;
That, if again this apparition come,
He may approve* our eyes, and speak to it.
Hor. Tush ! tush ! 'twill not appear.
Ber. Come, let us once again assail your ears,
That are so fortified against our story,
What we two nights have seen.
Hor. Well, let us hear Bernardo speak of this .
Ber. Last night of all,
When yon same star, that's westward from the pole,
Had made his course to illume that part of heaven
Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,
The bell then beating one,
Mar. Peace, break thee off ; look, where it comes
again !

* Approve our eyes-i.e. - confirm the evidence of our eyes. A

 HAMLET. 3

Enter GHOST, L.H.

Ber. In the same figure, like the king that's dead.

Hor. Most like :-it harrows me with fear and
wonder.
Ber. It would be spoke to.
Mar. Speak to it, Horatio.
Hor. What art thou, that usurp'st this time of
night,
Together with that fair and warlike form
In which the majesty of bury'd Denmark
Did sometimes march ? By heaven, I charge thee,
speak. (Ghost Crosses to R.H.)
Mar. It is offended.
Ber. See ! it stalks away.
Hor. Stay ; speak ; speak, I charge thee, speak.
[Exit Ghost, R.H.
Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer.
Ber. How, now, Horatio ? you tremble and look
pale :
Is not this something more than fantasy ?
What think you of it ?
Hor. I might not this believe,
Without the sensible and true avouch
Of mine own eyes .
Mar. Is it not like the king ?
Hor. As thou art to thyself :
Such was the very armour he had on,
When he the ambitious Norway combated.
Mar. Thus, twice before, and jump* at this dead
hour,
With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.
Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know
not ;

Jump at this dead hour-the prompt copy reads "just at this

dead hour,"-It has precisely the same signification ; but we see
no reason for admitting the innovation.
B 2.
4 HAMLET.
But, in the gross and scope of mine opinion,
This bodes some strange eruption to our state.

Re-enter GHOSt, r.h.

But, soft ; behold ! lo, where it comes again !

I'll cross it, though it blast me. (Ghost Crosses to L.fl.)
Stay, illusion !
If thou hast any sound, or use of voice
Speak to me :
If there be any good thing to be done,
That may to thee do ease, and grace to me,
Speak to me.
If thou art privy to thy country's fate,
Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid
Oh, speak !
Or, if thou hast uphoarded in thy life
Extorted* treasure in the womb of the earth,
For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death,
Speak of it :-[Exit Ghost, L.H .]-stay, and speak.
Mar. 'Tis gone !
1
We do it wrong, being so majestical,
To offer it the show of violence.
Ber. It was about to speak, when the cock crew.
Hor. And then it started like a guilty thing
Upon a fearful summons. I have heard,
The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,
Doth, with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat,
Awake the god of day ; and, at his warning,
Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,
The extravagant† and erring spirit hies
To his confine.
But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill :
Break we our watch up ; (Crosses to L.H.) and, by
my advice,

* Extorted—i.e.— unjustly extorted from thy subjects.

+ Extravagant-is here used in the appropriate sense of " wan
dering beyond a given limit," though modern custom has confined
it to excess in the use of money.
 HAMLET. 5

Let us impart what we have seen to-night'

Unto young Hamlet ; for, upon my life,
This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him.
[Exeunt, L.H

SCENE II.- The Palace:-Flourish of Trumpets.

Enter POLONIUS, the KING, QUEEN, HAMLET, L.H.

LAERTES, R.H. Ladies and Attendants.

King. Though yet of Hamlet, our dear brother's

death,
The memory be green ; and that it us befitted
To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom .
To be contracted in one brow of woe ;
Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature,
That we, with wisest sorrow, thin on him,
Together with remembrance of ourselves.
Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen,
The imperial jointress of this warlike state,
Have we, as . ' twere with a defeated joy,
Taken to wife ; nor have we herein barr'd
Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone
With this affair along :-for all, our thanks.-
And now, Laertes, what's the news with you ?
You told us of some suit-What is't, Laertes ?
Laer. My dread lord,
Your leave and favour to return to France ;
From whence, though willingly, I came to Denmark,
To show my duty in your coronation ;
Yet now, I must confess, that duty done,
My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France,
And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon .
King. Have you your father's leave ? What says
Polonius ?
Pol. He hath, my lord ;
I do beseech you, give him leave to go.
King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes ; time be thine,
And thy best graces ; spend it at thy will.
But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son
P3
6 HAMLET.
Ham. A little more than kin, and less than kind .
King. How is it that the clouds still hang on you ?
Ham. Not so, my lord ; I am too much i' the sun.
Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off,
And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
Do not, for ever, with thy vailed* lids,
Seek for thy noble father in the dust :
Thou know'st, ' tis common ; all that live must die,
Passing through nature to eternity.
Ham. Aye, madam, it is common.
Queen. If it be,
Why seems it so particular with thee ?
Ham. Seems, madam ! nay it is ; I know not seems .
'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
Nor the dejected ' haviour of the visage,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief,
That can denote me truly : these, indeed, seem,
For they are actions that a man might play ;
But I have that within, which passeth show ;
These but the trappings and the suits of woe.
King. 'Tis sweet, and commendable in your nature,
Hamlet,
To give these mourning duties to your father :
But, you must know, your father lost a father ;
That father lost, lost his ; and the survivor bound
In filial obligation, for some term,
To do obsequious sorrow ; but to perseveret
In obstinate condolement, is a course
Of impious stubbornness ; ' tis unmanly grief;

* Vailed lids- i.e. -cast down to earth.- To vail is to bow, bend

downwards. Mr. Kemble reads veiled.
+ Persévere: " Persevere in it, and ""good men,
With saints and angels, say amen.'
Maid ofHonour, a. 5. s. 2.
""
My best lady,
Persevere in it." -Virgin Martyr, a. 1. s. 1 .
66
-To wrong another,
And one she knows not, aye, and to persevere."
The Fox, a. 4. s. 1.
 HAMLET. 7
It shows a will most incorrect * to heaven,
We pray you, throw to earth
This unprevailing† woe, and think of us
As of a father ; for let the world take note,
You are the most immediate to our throne,
Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.
(The Courtiers salute Hamlet . )
Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Ham
let,
I pray thee, stay with us, go not to Wittenberg.
Ham. I shall, in all my best, obey you, madam.
King. Why, ' tis a loving and a fair reply ;
Be as ourself in Denmark. - Madam, come ;
This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet
Sits smiling to my heart ; in grace whereof,
No jocund health, that Denmark drinks to-day,
But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell,
Re-speaking earthly thunder. (Flourish of Trumpets .)
[ Exeunt, Polonius, R.H. King, Queen, Laertes,
Ladies, and Courtiers, R.H.S.E.
Ham. Oh, that this too, too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew !
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 'gainst self- slaughter ! O God! O God !
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world !
Fie on't ! O fie ! 'tis an unweeded garden,
That grows to seed ; things rank and gross in nature,
Possess it merely. That it should come to this !
But two months dead ! -nay, not so much, not two
So excellent a king ; that was, to this,
Hyperion to a satyr : so loving to my mother,
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth !
Must I remember ? Why, she would hang on him,

* Incorrect, seems to be here used, improperly enough, for incor

rigible a will stubborn and unyielding to the divine laws ; some
explain it by untutored.
+ Unprevailing- unavailing.
B4
 1

8 HAMLET.
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on and yet, within a month
Let me not think on't-Frailty, thy name is woman !
A little month ; or ere those shoes were old,
With which she followed my poor father's body,
Like Niobe, all tears
She married with my uncle,
My father's brother ; but no more like my father,
Than I to Hercules.
It is not, nor it cannot come to, good
But break, my heart ; for I must hold my tongue !
(Going towards L.H.)

Enter HORATIO, MARCELLUS, and BERNARDO, R.H.D.

Hor. Hail to your lordship !

Ham. I am glad to see you well :
Horatio- or I do forget myself?
Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant
ever.
Ham. Sir, my good friend ; I'll change that name
with you.
And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio
Marcellus. (Crosses to Marcellus .)
Mar. My good lord
Ham. I am very glad to see you-Good even , sir—
But what, in faith, makes you from Wittenberg ?
Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord.
Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so ;
Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,
To make it truster of your own report
Against yourself : I know you are no truant.
But, what is your affair in Elsinore ?
We'll teach you to drink deep, ere you depart.
Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.
Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow- student ;
I think it was to see my mother's wedding.
Hor. Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon.
Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio ! the funeral bak'd
meats
1

6
HAMLET.
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
Would I had met my dearest* foe in heaven,
Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio
My father-methinks, I see my father.
Hor. Where,
My lord?
Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio.
Hor. I saw him once ; he was a goodly king.
Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all
I shall not look upon his like again. (Crosses to L.H.) 1
Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight..
Ham. Saw! who ?
Hor. My lord, the king, your father.
Ham. The king, my father !.
Hor. Season† your admiration for awhile :
With an attent ear, till I may deliver,
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
This marvel to you.
Ham. For heaven's love, let me hear.
Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen,.
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,
In the dead waste and middle of the night,
Been thus encounter'd :-a figure like your father,
Armed at point, exactly, cap-à-pé,
Appears before them, and, with solemn march,
Goes slow and stately by them : thrice he walk'd
By their oppress'd and fear- surprised eyes,
Within his truncheon's length ; whilst they, distill'd
Almost to jelly with the act of fear,
Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me
In dreadful secrecy impart they did ;
And I with them, the third night, kept the watch :
Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,

* Dearest-Bitterest-to dere or deare, from which it is derived,

signifies to annoy, to injure ; it is far from being an uncommon
expression with our old writers.
+ Season- moderate.
✦ Act, is here employed, not very correctly, for action,
B. 5
10 HAMLET.
Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
The apparition comes.
Ham. But where was this ?
Mar. My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd.
Ham. Did you not speak to it ?
Hor. My lord, I did ;
But answer made it none ; yet once, methought,
It lifted up its head , and did address
Itself to motion, like as it would speak ;
But, even then, the morning cock crew loud,
And, at the sound , it shrunk in haste away,
And vanish'd from our sight.
Ham . "Tis very strange.
Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, ' tis true ;
And we did think it writ down in our duty,
To let you know of it.
Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs ; but this troubles me.
Hold you the watch to - night ?
Mar. We do, my lord.
Ham. Arm'd , say you ?
Mar. Arm'd, my lord.
Ham. From top to toe ?
Mar. My lord, from head to foot.
Ham. Then saw you not
His face ?
Hor. O yes, my lord, he wore his beaver up.
Ham. What, look'd he frowningly?
Hor. A countenance more
In sorrow than in anger.
Ham. Pale, or red ?
Hor. Nay, very pale .
Ham. And fix'd his eyes upon you ?
Hor. Most constantly.
Ham. I would I had been there.
Hor. It would have much amaz'd you.
Ham. Very like,
Very like :-stay'd it long ?
Hor. While one, with moderate haste,
Might tell a hundred.
Mar, Longer, longer.
 HAMLET. 11
Hor. Not when I saw it.
Ham. His beard was grizzled ? -no ?
Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life,
A sable silver'd.
Ham. I will watch to- night ;
Perchance , ' twill walk again .
Hor. I warrant ' twill .
Ham. If it assume my noble father's person,
I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape,
And bid me hold my peace. (Crosses to L.H. ) I pray
you all,
If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,
Let it be tenable in your silence still ;
And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,
Give it an understanding , but no tongue ;
I will requite your loves : so, fare you well :
Upon the platform, ' twixt eleven and twelve ,
I'll visit you .
Hor. Our duty to your honour.
Ham. Your loves, as mine to you : farewell.
[Exeunt Barnardo, Marcellus, and Horatio, R.H.D.
My father's spirit !-in arms !-all is not well ;
I doubt some foul play : ' would, the night were come !
Till then sit still, my soul : foul deeds will rise ,
Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.
[Exit, L.H.D.

SCENE III.- An apartment in Polonius' house:

Enter LAERTES and OPHELIA, r.h.

Laer. My necessaries are embark'd ; farewell ;

And, sister, as the winds give benefit,
Pray, let me hear from you.
Oph. Do you doubt that?
Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour,
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood ;
He may not, as unvalued persons do,
B6
12 HAMLET.
Carve for himself; for on his choice depends
The safety and the health of the whole state ;
Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain,
If with too credent ear you list his songs ;
Fear it, Ophelia ; fear it, my dear sister ;
And keep you in the rear of your affection,
Out ofthe shot and danger of desire ;
The chariest maid is prodigal enough ,
If she unmask her beauty to the moon.
Oph. I shall the effect of this good lesson keep
As watchman to my heart : But, good my brother,
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven :
Whilst, like a reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose-path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own read* .
Laer. O, fear me not,
I stay too long ;-But here my father comes.

Enter POLONIUS, l.h.

Pol. Yet here, Laertes ! aboard, aboard, for shame;

The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
And you are staid for.
Laer. Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.
Farewell, Ophelia ; and remember well
What I have said to you.
Oph. 'Tis in my memory lock'd,
And you yourself shall keep the key of it.
Laer. Farewell. [ Exit, L.H.
Pol. What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you ?
Oph. So please you, something touching the lord
Hamlet.
Pol. Marry, well bethought :
Tis told to me, he hath very oft of late
Given private time to you ; and you yourself
Have of your audience been most free and bounteous ;

* Read- Counsel, lesson.

 HAMLET. 13
If it be so, (as so ' tis put on me,
And that in way of caution , ) I must tell you, 1
You do not understand yourself so clearly,
As it behoves my daughter, and your honour.
What is between you ? give me up the truth.
Oph. He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders
Of his affection to me.
Pol. Affection ? puh ! you speak like a green girl,
Unsifted in such perilous circumstance .
Do you believe his tenders, as you call them ?
Oph. I do not know, my lord, what I should think.
Pol. Marry, I'll teach you : think yourself a baby ;
That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay,
Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly ;
Or you'll tender me a fool.
Oph. My lord, he hath importun'd me with love,
In honourable fashion.
Pol. Aye, fashion you may call it ; go to, go to.
Oph. And hath given countenance to his speech, my
lord,
With almost all the holy vows of heaven.
Pol. Aye, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know,
When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
Lends the tongue vows.
This is for all,—
I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth,
Have you so slander any moment's leisure,
As to give words or talk with the lord Hamlet.
Look to't, I charge you ; ( Crosses to R.H.) come your
ways.
Oph. I shall obey, my lord. [Exeunt, R.H.

SCENE IV.-The Platform.

Enter HAMLET, HORATIO, and MARCELLUS, R.H.U.E.

Ham. The air bites shrewdly ; it is very cold.

Hor. (R.H.) It is a nipping and an eager air.

* Unsifted untried,
 14 HAMLET .
Ham. What hour now ?
Hor. I think, it lacks of twelve.
Mar. No, it is struck.
Hor. I heard it not ; it then draws near the season,
Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.
(Flourish of Trumpets and Drums, and Ordnance
shot off, within.)
What does this mean, my lord ? (Crosses to L.H.)
Ham. The king doth wake to - night, and takes his
rouse ;
And as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,
The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out
The triumph of his pledge.
Hor. Is it a custom ?
Ham. Aye, marry, is't :
But to my mind, though I am native here,
And to the manner born ,—it is a custom
More honour'd in the breach, than the observance.

Enter GHOST, L.H.

Hor. Look, my lord, it comes !

Ham. Angels and ministers of grace defend us !
Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd ,
Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from hell,
Be thy intents wicked, or charitable,
Thou com❜st in such a questionable† shape,
That I will speak to thee : I'll call thee Hamlet,
King, father.- Royal Dane, O, answer me!
'Let me not burst in ignorance ! but tell,
Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death,
Have burst their cerements ! why the sepulchre,
Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd,
Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws
To cast thee up again ! What may this mean,
That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel,

* Rouse- a full glass, a bumper.

+ Questionable- inviting question ; provoking question.
 HAMLET. 15
•
Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon,
Making night hideous ; and we fools of nature,
So horridly to shake our disposition, *
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls ?
Say, why is this ? wherefore ? what should we do ?
(Ghost beckons.)
Hor. It beckons you to go away with it,
As ifit some impartment did desire
To you alone.
Mar. Look with what courteous action
It waves you to a more removed ground :
But do not go with it.
Hor. No, by no means .
Ham. It will not speak ; then I will follow it.
Hor. Do not , my lord.
Ham. Why ? what should be the fear ?
I do not set my life at a pin's fee,
And, for my soul, what can it do to that,
Being a thing immortal as itself?
It waves me forth again- I'll follow it.
Hor. What, if it tempt you toward the flood, my
lord ? (Takes Hamlet's R.H. )
Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff,
And there assume some other horrible form,
And draw you into madness ?
Ham: It waves me still
Go on, I'll follow thee. (Crosses to L.H.)
Mar. You shall not go, my lord.
(Takes Hamlet's L.H. )
Ham. Hold off your hands.
Hor. Be rul'd, you shall not go.
Ham. My fate cries out,
And makes each petty artery in this hody
As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve. -
Still am I call'd- unhand me, gentlemen ;
(Breakingfrom them.)
I say away- Go on- I'll follow thee.
[Exeunt Ghost and Hamlet, L.H.-Horatio and
Marcellus, slowlyfollow.
* Disposition- frame.
16 HAMLET.

SCENE V.- A remote part of the Platform.

Re-enter GHOST and HAMLET, from L.H. to R.H.U.e.

Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me ? speak,

I'll go no further.
Ghost. Mark me.
Ham. I will.
Ghost. My hour is almost come,
When I to sulph'rous and tormenting flames.
Must render up myself.
Ham. Alas, poor ghost !
Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
To what I shall unfold.
Ham. Speak, I am bound to hear.
Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.
Ham. What ?
Ghost. I am thy father's spirit,
Doom'd for a certain term , to walk the night ;
And, for the day, confin'd to fast in fires,
Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature,
Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison- house,
I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine :
But this eternal blazon* must not be
To ears of flesh and blood :-List, list, O list !—
If thou didst ever thy dear father love,
Ham. O heaven !
Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.
Ham. Murder !
Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is ;.
But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
* This eternal blazon must not be—this blazon, this exposition, of
the secrets of eternity must not be.
 HAMLET. 17
Ham. Haste me to know it, that I, with wings as
swift
As meditation, or the thoughts of love,
May sweep to my revenge.
Ghost. I find thee apt.
Now, Hamlet, hear :
"Tis given out, that, sleeping in my orchard,
A serpent stung me ; so the whole ear of Denmark
Is by a forged process of my death
Rankly abus'd : but know, thou noble youth,
The serpent, that did sting thy father's life,
Now wears his crown.
Ham. O, my prophetic soul ! my uncle ?
Ghost. Aye, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,
With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,
Won to his shameful lust
The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen :
O, Hamlet, what a falling off was there !
From me, whose love was of that dignity,
That it went hand in hand even with the vow
I made to her in marriage ; and to decline*
Upon a wretch, whose natural gifts were poor
To those of mine !
But, soft ! methinks, I scent the morning air,

* Decline-To sink, fall down-This verb is also used by our old

dramatists in the sense of to turn aside. Examples of each of these
uses are abundant.
" That spoke, which now is highest
In fortune's wheel, nust, when she turns it next,
Decline as low as we are."—i. e.— sink- be abased.
Virgin Martyr, a. 1. s. 1.
" When men grow fast
Honour'd and loved, there is a trick in state,
Which jealous princes never fail to use,
How to decline that growth." -i. e.—turn aside.
Sejanus, a. 1. s. 1.
" Him she loves most, she will seem to hate eagerliest, to decline
your jealousy,"
Silent Woman, a, 2. s. 1 .
 18 HAMLET.
Brief let me be :-Sleeping within mine orchard,
My custom always of the afternoon,
pon my secure hour thy uncle stole,
With juice of cursed hebenon in a phial,
And in the porches of mine ears did pour
The leperous distilment, whose effect
Holds such an enmity with blood of man,
That swift as quicksilver, it courses through
The natural gates and alleys of the body ;
So did it mine.
Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand,
Of life, of crown, of queen, at once despatch'd ;*
Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
No reckoning made, but sent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head.
Ham. O, horrible ! O, horrible ! most horrible !
Ghost. If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not ;
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
A couch for lux'ry and damned incest.
But, howsoever thou pursu'st this act,
Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive
Against thy mother ought ; leave her to heaven,
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
To goad and sting her. Fare thee well at once !
The glow-worm shows the matin to be near,
And 'gins to pale his uneffectual * fire.
Adieu, adieu, adieu ! remember me.
(Ghost vanishes, L.H. trap .)
Ham. Hold, hold, my heart;
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
But bear me stiffly up !-Remember thee ?
Aye, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe. Remember thee ?
Yea, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all forms, all pressures past,
And thy commandment all alone shall live

* Despatched- bereft.
* Uneffectual fire-shining without heat.
 HAMLET. 19
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmix'd with baser matter ; yes, by heaven .
I have sworn it.
Hor. (Within, R.H.) My lord, my lord,
Mar. (Within.) Lord Hamlet,
Hor. (Within.) Heaven secure him !
Ham. So be it !
Hor. (Within.) Hillo, ho, ho, my lord !
Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy ! come, bird, come.*

Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS , R.H.

Mar. How is't, my noble lord ? (Advances, R.H.)

Hor. What news, my lord ? (Advances, L.H.)
Ham. O, wonderful!
Hor. Good, my lord, tell it ?
Ham. No ; you will reveal it.
Hor. Not I, my lord, by heaven.
Ham. How say you then ; would heart of man once
think it ?
But you'll be secret ?
Hor. Aye, by heaven, my lord.
Ham. There's ne'er a villain, dwelling in all Den
mark,
But he's an arrant knave. (Crosses to R.H.)
Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come from
the grave ,
To tell us this.
Ham. Why, right ; you are in the right ;
And so, without more circumstance at all ,
I hold it fit, that we shake hands, and part ;
-
You, as your business and desire shall point you ;
For every man hath business and desire ,
Such as it is,--and, for my own poor part,
I will go pray.
Hor. These are but wild and whirling words, my
lord.

* Come, bird, come- a call used by falconers to their hawk in the

air, when they would have him come down .
 20 HAMLET.
Ham. I am sorry they offend you, heartily.
Hor. There's no offence, my lord.
Ham. Yes, by Saint Patrick,* but there is, Horatio,
And much offence too. Touching this vision here,
It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you :
For your desire to know what is between us,
O'er-master it as you may. And now, good friends,
(Crosses to L.H.)
As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers,
1 Give me one poor request.
Hor. What is't , my lord ?—
We will.
Ham. Never make known what you have seen to
night.
Hor. & Mar. My lord, we will not.
Ham. Nay, but swear it.
Hor. Propose the oath, my lord.
Ham. Never to speak of this that you have seen ;
(Crosses to R.H.)
Swear by my sword.
Ghost. (Beneath. ) Swear.
Hor. O day and night, but this is wond'rous strange !
Ham. And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.
There are more things in heav'n and earth, Horatio, 1
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
But come :
Here, as before, never, so help you mercy !
How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself,
As I, perchance, hereafter shall think meet
To put an antic disposition on,
That you, at such times seeing me, never shall,
With arms encumber'd thus, or this head-shake,
Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase,
As, Well, well, we know : -or, We could, an if we
would; or, If we list to speak ; or, There be, an
if they might ;

* This oath is rather improper in the mouth of Hamlet, the

Dane ; but Shakspeare, as well as his cotemporaries, is seldom
nice on these points.
 HAMLET. 21

Or such ambiguous giving out, to note

That you know ought of me :-This do ye swear,
So grace and mercy at your most need help you !
Ghost. (Beneath.) Swear.
Ham. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit !-So, gentlemen,
With all my love I do commend me to you :
And what so poor a man as Hamlet is
May do, to express his love and friending to you,
Heaven willing, shall not lack. Let us go in toge
ther ; (Crosses to L.H.)
And still your fingers on your lips, I pray.
The time is out of joint-O cursed spight !
That ever I was born to set it right ! [Exeunt, L.H.

END OF ACT I.

1
ACT II.

SCENE I.- An Apartment in Polonius ' House.

Enter POLONIUS, L.H. and Ophelia, r.h.

Pol. How now, Ophelia ? what's the matter ?

Oph. O, my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted !
Pol. With what, in the name of heaven ?
Oph. My lord, as I was sewing in my closet,
Lord Hamlet , with his doublet all unbrac'd,
No hat upon his head,
Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other,
He comes before me.
Pol. Mad for thy love ?
Oph. My lord, I do not know ;
But, truly, I do fear it.
22 HAMLET.
Pol. What said he ?
Oph. He took me by the wrist, and held me hard ;
Then goes he to the length of all his arm,
And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow,
He falls to such perusal of my face,
As he would draw it . Long stay'd he so ;
At last, ------ a little shaking of mine arm ,
And thrice his head thus waving up and down,
He rais'd a sigh so piteous and profound,
As it did seem to shatter all his bulk,
And end his being : That done, he lets me go ;
And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd,
He seem'd to find his way without his eyes ;
For out o'doors he went without their helps,
And, to the last, bended their light on me.
Pol. Come, go with me ; I will seek the king.
This is the very ecstasy of love.
What, have you given him any hard words of late ?
Oph. No, my good lord ; but, as you did command,
I did repel his letters, and deny'd
His access to me.
Pol. That hath made him mad.
Come, go we to the king :
This must be known ; which, being kept close, might
move
More grief to hide, than hate to utter love.
[Exeunt, L.H.

SCENE II.- The Palace.- Enter the KING, QUEEN,

ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN , L.H. FRANCESCO
and BERNARDO , R.H.

King. Welcome, dear Rosencrantz, and Guilden

stern !
Moreover that we much did long to see you,
The need, we have to use you, did provoke
Our hasty sending. Something have you heard
Of Hamlet's transformation :
What it should be,
More than his father's death, that thus hath put him,
 HAMLET. 23
So much from the understanding of himself,
I cannot dream of : I entreat you both,
That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court
Some little time ; so by your companies
To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather,
Whether ought, to us unknown, afflicts him thus,
That, open'd, lies within our remedy.
Queen. Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of
you ;
And, sure I am, two men there are not living
To whom he more adheres. If it will please you
So to expend your time with us a while,
Your visitation shall receive such thanks
As fits a king's remembrance.
Ros. Both your majesties
Might, by the sovereign power you have of us,
Put your dread pleasures more into command
Than to entreaty.
Guil. But we both obey ;
And here give up ourselves, in the full bent,*
To lay our service freely at your feet.
King. Thanks, Rosencrantz, and gentle Guilden
stern .
Queen. I do beseech you instantly to visit
My too much changed son.- Go, some of you,
And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is .
[Exeunt Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, Francesco,
and Bernardo, R.H.

Enter POLONIUS, L.H.

Pol. I now do think , (or else this brain of mine

Hunts not the trail of policy so sure
As it hath us'd to do,) that I have found
The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.
King. O, speak of that ; that do I long to hear.
Pol. My liege, and madam, to expostulate †
What majesty should be, what duty is,
* Bent- endeavour, application.
+ Expostulate- to inquire or discuss.
24 HAMLET.
Why day is day, night, night, and time is time,
Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time ;
Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,
I will be brief : Your noble son is mad:
Mad call I it ; for, to define true madness,
What is't, but to be nothing else but mad :
But let that go.
Queen. More matter, with less art.
Pol. Madam, I swear, I use no art at all.
That he is mad, ' tis true ; ' tis true, ' tis pity ;
And pity ' tis, ' tis true : a foolish figure ;
But farewell it ; for I will use no art.
Mad let us grant him, then and now remains,
That we find out the cause of this effect ;
Or, rather say, the cause of this defect :
For this effect, defective, comes by cause :
Thus it remains, and the remainder thus.
Perpend,
I have a daughter ; have, while she is mine ;
Who, in her duty, and obedience, mark,
Hath given me this : Now gather, and surmise.
(Reads.) Tothe celestial, and my soul's idol, the most
beautified Ophelia, —
That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase ; beautified is a vile
phrase ; but you shall hear:
(Reads.) In her excellent white bosom, these, &c.—
Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her ?
Pol. Good madam, stay a while ; I will be faithful ;
(Reads.) Doubt thou, the stars arefire ;
Doubt, that the sun doth move :
Doubt truth to be a liar ;
But never doubt, Ilove.
O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers ; I have
no art to reckon my groans ; but, that I love thee best,
O most best, believe it. Adieu.
Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst
this machine is to him, Hamlet.
This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me :
And, more above, hath his solicitings,
 HAMLET. 25

As they fell out by time, by means, and place,

All given to mine ear.
King. But how hath she
Receiv'd his love ?
Pol. What do you think of me ?
King. As of a man faithful and honourable.
Pol. I would fain prove so. But what might you
think,
When I had seen this hot love on the wing,
(As I perceiv'd it, I must tell you that,
Before my daughter told me,) what might you,
Or my dear majesty your queen here, think,
If I had play'd the desk, or table -book ;
Or look'd upon this love with idle sight;
What might you think ? No, I went round to work,
And my young mistress thus I did bespeak ;
Lord Hamlet is a prince ; out of thy sphere ;
This must not be : and then I precepts gave her,
That she should lock herself from his resort,
Admit no messengers, receive no tokens .
Which done, she took the fruits of my advice :
And he, repulsed, (a short tale to make, )
Fell into a sadness ;
Thence into a weakness ;
Thence to a lightness ; and, by this declension,
Into the madness wherein now he raves,
And all we mourn for.
King. Do you think, ' tis this ?
Queen. It may be, very likely.
Pol. Hath there been such a time, (I'd fain know
that, )
That I have positively said, ' Tis so,
When it prov'd otherwise ?
King. Not that I know.
Pol. Take this from this, if this be otherwise.
(Pointing to his head and shoulders.)
If circumstances lead me, I will find
Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed
Within the centre.
C
26 HAMLET .
King. How may we try it further ?
Pol. You know, sometimes he walks for hours to
gether
Here in the lobby.
Queen. So he does, indeed.
Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him :
Mark the encounter : if he love her not,
And be not from his reason fallen thereon , 4
Let me be no assistant for a state, Q
8
But keep a farm and carters. (Crosses to L.H. )
King. We will try it.
Queen. But, look, where sadly the poor wretch
comes reading !
Pol. Away, I do beseech you both ; away!
I'll board him presently.
[Exeunt, King and Queen, R.H.
Enter HAMLET, reading, from R.H.U.E.

How does my good lord Hamlet ?

Ham. Excellent well . (Ham. comes down, L.H.)
Pol. Do you know me, my lord ?
Ham. Excellent well ; you are a fishmonger.
Pol. Not I, my lord.
Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man.
Pol. Honest, my lord?
Ham. Aye, sir ; to be honest as this world goes, is
to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
Pol. That's very true, my lord .
Ham. For, if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog,
being a god, kissing carrion- Have you a daughter ?
Pol. I have, my lord.
Ham. Let her not walk i'the sun : conception is a
blessing ; but as your daughter may conceive,-friend
look to't
Pol. Still harping on my daughter : -yet he knew
me not at first ; he said, I was a fishmonger. I'll
speak to him again . (Aside.) What do you read, my
lord.
Ham. Words, words, words.
Pol. What is the matter, my lord ?
Ham. Between who ?
 HAMLET. 27
Pol. I mean, the matter that you read, my lord ?
Ham. Slanders, sir ; for the satyrical rogue* says
here, that old men have grey beards ; that their faces
are wrinkled ; their eyes purging thick amber, and
plumb-tree gum ; and that they have a plentiful lack
of wit, together with most weak hams : all which, sir,
though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I
hold it not honesty to have it thus set down ; for your
self, sir, shall be as old as I am, if, like a crab, you
could go backward.
Pol. Though this be madness, yet there's method
in't. (Aside.)
Will you walk out of the air, my lord ?
Ham. Into my grave.
Pol. Indeed, that is out o' the air. How pregnant+
sometimes his replies are ! a happiness that often mad
ness hits on, which reason and sanity could not so
prosperously be deliver'd of. I will leave him , and
suddenly contrive the means of meeting between him
and my daughter. My honourable lord, I will most
humbly take my leave of you .
Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that
I will more willingly part withal, except my life, ex
cept my life, except my life. (Crosses to R.H.)
Pol. Fare you well, my lord.
Ham. These tedious old fools !

Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN, L.H.

Pol. You go to seek the lord Hamlet ? there he is.

Ros. Heaven save you, sir ! [Exit Polonius, L.H.
Guil. My honour'd lord !

By the satyrical rogue, he means Juvenal, in his tenth satyr.

+ Pregnant- Full, complete-Thus, too, Massinger
Wilt thou live
Till thou art blasted with the dreadful lightning,
Ofpregnant and unanswerable proofs ?"
Emperor ofthe East, a. 4. s. 5.

C2
 28 HAMLET.
Ham. My excellent good friends ! How dost thou,
Guildenstern? ( Crosses to the centre.) Ah, Rosen
crantz ! Good lads, how do ye both? What news ?
Kos. None, my lord ; but that the world's grown
honest.
Ham. Then is dooms-day near : but your news is
not true. In the beaten way of friendship, what make
you at Elsinore ?
Ros. To visit you, my lord ; no other occasion.
Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks ;
but I thank you. Were you not sent for ? Is it your
own inclining ? Is it a free visitation ? Come, come ;
deal justly with me ; come ; nay, speak.
Guil. What should we say, my lord ?
Ham. Any thing- but to the purpose. You were
sent for ; and there is a kind of confession in your
looks, which your modesties have not craft enough to
colour : I know, the good king and queen have sent
for you .
Ros. To what end, my lord ?
Ham. That you must teach me. But let me con
jure you, by the rights of our fellowship, by the conso
nancy of our youth, by the obligation of our ever-pre
served love, and by what more dear a better proposer
could charge you withal, be even and direct with me,
whether you were sent for, or no ?
Ros. What say you ? (Aside to Guildenstern.)
Ham. Nay, then, I have an eye on you. ( Aside.) If
you love me, hold not off.
Guil. My lord, we were sent for.
Ham. I will tell you why ; so shall my anticipation
prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king
and queen moult no feather. I have of late (but,
wherefore, I know not, ) lost all my mirth, forgone all
custom of exercises ; and, indeed, it goes so heavily
with my disposition, that this goodly frame, the earth,
seems to me a steril promontory ; this most excellent
canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'er-hanging firma
ment, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why,
it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pesti
 HAMLET. 29
Tent congregation of vapours . What a piece of work is
man How noble in reason ! how infinite in faculties!
in form and moving, how express and admirable ! in
action, how like an angel ! in apprehension, how like a
god ! the beauty of the world ! the paragon of animals !
And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust ?
Man delights not me, nor woman neither ; though,
by your smiling, you seem to say so. (Crosses to L.H. )
Ros. My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.
Ham. Why did you laugh then, when I said, Man
delights not me?
Ros. To think, my lord, if you delight not in man,
what lenten entertainment the players shall receive
from you : we met them on the way ; and hither are
they coming, to offer you service.
Ham. (Crosses to the Centre.) He that plays the
king, shall be welcome ; his majesty shall have tribute
of me ; the adventurous knight shall use his foil and
target ; the lover shall not sigh gratis ; the humorous
man shall end his part in peace ; and the lady shall say
her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt for't
What players are they?
Ros. Even those you were wont to take such delight
1 in, the tragedians of the city.
Ham. How chances it they travel ? Their residence,
both in reputation and profit, was better both ways .
Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was
in the city? Are they so followed ?
Ros. No, indeed, they are not.
Ham. It is not very strange : for my uncle is king
of Denmark ; and those, that would make mouths at
him while my father liv'd, give twenty, forty, fifty, an
hundred ducats a-piece, for his picture in little. There
is something in this more than natural, if philosophy
could find it out. (Flourish of Trumpets.)
Guil. There are the players.
Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore :
your hands ; you are welcome :-but my uncle-father
and aunt-mother are deceived .
€3
30 HAMLET.
Guil. In what, my dear lord ?
Ham. I am but mad north- north-west : when the
wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a hernshaw.*
(Crosses to L.H.)
Pol. (Within, L.H.) Well be with you, gentlemen !
Ham. Hark you, Guildenstern, and Rosencrantz,
-that great baby, you see there, is not yet out of his
swaddling-clouts.
Ros. Happily, he's the second time come to them ;
for, they say, an old man is twice a child.
Ham. I will prophesy, he comes to tell me of the
players ; mark it. You say right, sir ; o' Monday
morning ; 'twas then, indeed

Enter POLONIUS, L.H.D.

Pol. My lord, I have news to tell you.

Ham. My lord, I have news to tell you.
When Roscius was an actor in Rome,
Pol. The actors are come hither, my lord.
Ham. Buz, buz !
Pol. Upon my honour,
Ham. Then came each actor on his ass,
Pol. The best actors in the world, either for tra
gedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral- comical,
historical- pastoral, scene individable, or poem unli
mited : Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus
too light : For the law of writ, and the liberty, these
are the only men .
Ham. OJeptha, Judge of Israel,-what a trea
sure hadst thou !
Pol. What a treasure had be, my lord ?
Ham. Why-Onefair daughter, and no more,
The which he loved passing well.
Pol. Still on my daughter.
Ham. Am I not i' the right, old Jeptha ?

* The prompt copy reads hand-saw- which although it must be

an error, is in the reading of the folio.
 HAMLET. 31

Pol. If you call me Jeptha, my lord, I have a

daughter, that I love passing well.
Ham. Nay, that follows not.
Pol. What follows then, my lord !
Ham. Why, As by lot, God wot , —and then, you
know, It came to pass, as most like it was,-The first
row of the pious chanson* will show you more ; for
look, my abridgment comes. (Crosses to the actors.)

Enter two Actors and an Actress, L.H.D.

You are welcome, masters ; welcome, all :-0, old
friend ! Why, thy face is valanc'dt since I saw thee
last : Com'st thou to beard me in Denmark ?-What
my young lady and mistress ! By-'r-lady, your lady
ship is nearer to heaven then when I saw you last, by
the altitude of a chopine. - You are all welcome.
We'll e’en to't like French falconers, fly at any thing
we see : We'll have a speech straight :-Come, give
us a taste of your quality ; come a passionate speech.§
(The 2d. Actor and Actress retire up the stage.)
1 Act. What speech, my lord ?
Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it
was never acted : or, if it was, not above once : for
the play, I remember, pleas'd not the million ; 'twas
caviare to the general : but it was an excellent play ;

* Pious chanson- It is pons chansons in the first folio edition.

The old ballads sung on bridges, and from thence called pons
chansons.-A kind of Christmas carols.
+ Thy face is valanc'd-i. e.- thou hast got a beard since I saw thee
last.
Chopine-A clog.
§ Apassionate speech-i . e.— a speech of sorrow, of pathos.- Pas
sion and its derivation are frequently used in this sense ; thus Mas
singer.
1. " Oh wife ! wife !"
2. " What ails you, man you speak so passionately.— (i. e.—
sorrowfully.) "
Great Duke of Florence, a. 1. s. 1 .
" "Tis a play ;
Or grant it serious, it at no part merits this passion in you,”
i. e. this excess of sorrow.
Roman Actor, a. 3. s. 2.
C 4
32 HAMLET.
well digested in the scenes, set down with as much
modesty as cunning.* One speech in it I chiefly lov'd : #
'twas Æneas' tale to Dido ; and thereabout of it espe
cially, where he speaks of Priam's slaughter : If it live
in your memory, begin at this line ;

The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast,

'Tis not so ; it begins with Pyrrhus.

The rugged Pyrrhus,-he, whose sable arms,

Black as his purpose, did the night resemble,
Old grandsire Priam sceks.
Pol. ' For heaven, ‡ my lord, well spoken ; with good
accent, and good discretion.
Ham. So ; -proceed you.
1 Act. Anon hefinds him
Striking too short at Greeks ; his antique sword,
Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,
Repugnant to command ; Unequal match'd,
Pyrrhus at Priam drives ; in rage, strikes wide ;
But with the whiff and wind of hisfell sword
The unnervedfatherfalls. 1
But as we often see, against some storm,

* Modesty as cunning-i . e.— Simplicity as art.

The rugged Pyrrhus &c. We have always avoided encumber
ing, our pages with long notes, which indeed neither the price of
the book nor the patience of our readers would admit of; but we
caunot help saying a few words on the skill with which Shakspeare
has managed these introduced scenes ; they are to be considered as
Schlegel properly observes, not by themselves, but in reference to
the place in which they appear ; the inflated style so different from
the play itself gives a wonderful reality to Hamlet ; we become at
once associated with the Prince, and consider that only to be the
fiction, which to him is such ; in looking at the false play, we for •
get the real one, Hamlet is now with us- is amongst us ; the same
too may be said ofall the characters present at the representation of
the mock tragedy.
+ Forheaven-i.e.-by heaven- The commentators on Shakspeare
have written much on this simple phrase, to little purpose ; the
acute Gifford was the first to set them right.
 HAMLET. 33
A silence in the heavens, the rack* stand stills
The bold winds speechless, and the orb below
As hush as death : anon, the dreadful thunder
Doth rend the region : So, after Pyrrhus' pause,
Aroused vengeance sets him new awork
1
And never did the Cyclops' hammersfall
On Mars's armour, forg'd for proofeterne,
With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword‹
Now falls on Priam.
Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune !
Pol. This is too long.
Ham. It shall to the barber's, with your beard.→
Say on: come to Hecuba.
1 Act. But who, ah woe ! had seen the mobled
queen,―
Ham. The mobled queen !
Pol. That's good ; the mobled queen is good.
Act. Run barefoot up and down, threat'ning the
flames ;
A clout upon that head,
Where late the diadem stood ; and, for arobe;
A blanket, in the alarm offear caught up:
Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'l,
'Gainstfortune's state would treason havepronounc'd?'
Pol. Look, whether he has not turn'd his colour,
and has tears in's eyes.-Pr'ythee, no more.
Ham, "Tis well ; I'll have thee speak out the rest of
this soon . (1st Actor retires to the R.H. of the
Actress.) Good, my lord, will you see the players
well bestow'd ? Do you hear, let them be well us'd ;
for they are the abstract, and brief chronicles of the:

* Rack- i.e.- any thing reeked vapours—it is here, we think,,

used for the general mass ofclouds.
+ Mobled-buddled, grossly covered.
Bestowed- Settled- Recorded-Provided for.
Thus, Ben Jonson :
" It is a match ; my daughter is bestow'd."
Fox, a. 5. s. 8

C.5
34 HAMLET .
time ; After your death you were better have a bad
epitaph, than their ill report while you live.
Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their
desert.
Ham. Much better. Use every man after his de
sert, and who shall ' scape whipping ? Use them after
your own honour and dignity : the less they deserve,
the more merit is in your bounty. Take themin.
Pol. Come, sirs. (Crosses to L.H.)
Ham. Follow him, friends : we'll hear a play to
morrow. Old friend.- (To first Actor .)
[Exeunt Polonius, Second Actor, and Actress, L.H.D.
My good friends, I'll leave you ' till night : you are wel
come to Elsinore.
[ Exeunt Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern, R.H.
Can you play the murder of Gonzago ?
1 Act. Aye, my lord.
Ham. We'll have it to-morrow night. You could,
for a need, study a speech of some dozen or sixteen
lines, which I would set down, and insert in't ? could
you not ?
1 Act. Aye, my lord.
Ham. Very well.-Follow that lord ; and look you
mock him not. [Exit First Actor, L.H.D.
I have heard,
That guilty creatures, sitting at a play,
Have by the very cunning of the scene
Been struck so to the soul, that presently
They have proclaim'd their malefactions :
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players
Play something like the murder of my father,
Before mine uncle : I'll observe his looks ;
I'll tent * him to the quick ; if he do blench,
I know my course. The spirit, that I have seen,
May be a devil : and the devil hath power
To assume a pleasing shape ; yea, and, perhaps,
Out of my weakness, and my melancholy,
1
* To tent-to probe, to search a wound.
 HAMLET. 35
As he is very potent with such spirits,
Abuses me to damn me : I'll have grounds
More relative than this ; the play's the thing,
Wherein I'll catch the conscience ofthe king.
[Exit, L.H.
END OF ACT II.

ACT. III.

SCENE I.- A Hall in the Palace.

Enter POLONIUS, KING, QUEEN, and OPHELIA, l.h.

ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTern, r.h.

King. And can you by no drift of conference

Get from him, why he puts on this confusion ?
Ros. He does confess he feels himself distracted ;
But from what cause he will by no means speak.
Guil. Nor do we find him forward to be sounded ;
But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof,
When we would bring him on to some confession
Of his true state.
Queen. Did you assay him
To anypastime ?
Ros. Madam, it so fell out, that certain players
We o'er-raught* on the way of these we told him ;
And there did seem in him a kind ofjoy
To hear ofit : They are about the court ; •
And, as I think, they have already order
This night to play before him.
Pol. "Tis most true :
And he beseech'd me to entreat your majesties,
To hear and see the matter.

* O'er raught- The old irregular past-tense of o'er-reach.

c 6
36 HAMLET.
King. With all my heart ; and it doth much eon
1 tent me
To hear him so inclin'd.
Good gentlemen, give him a further edge,
And drive his purpose on to these delights.
Ros. We shall, my lord.
[ Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, R.H.
King. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too.
For we have closely* sent for Hamlet hither ;
That he, as ' twere by accident, may here
Affront+ Ophelia :
Her father and myself (lawful espials, )
Will so bestow ourselves, that, seeing, unseen,
We may of their encounter frankly judge ;
And gather by him, as he is behav'd,
If't be the affliction of his Jove, or no,
That thus he suffers for.
Queen. I shall obey you:- (Crosses to R.H. )
And, for your part, Ophelia, I do wish,
That your good beauties be the happy cause
Of Hamlet's wildness ; so shall I hope, your virtues
Will bring him to his wonted way again,
To both your honours.
Oph. Madam, I wish it may. [Exit Queen, R.H.
Pol. Ophelia, walk you here :
Read on this book;
That show of such an ex se may colour
Your loneliness . (Ophelia goes up the stage.)
I hear him coming ; let's withdraw, my lord.
[Exeunt King and Polonius, R.H.S.

Enter HAMLET, L.H.

Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the question :

Whether ' tis nobler in the mind, to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune ;
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

* Closely-i.e.—privately- secretly.--
+ Affront-i. e.—meet.
 HAMLET, 37
And, by opposing, end them ? —to die ? —to sleep,
No more ; and, by a sleep, to say we end
The heart-ach, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to,-' tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd . To die :-to sleep ;
To sleep ! -perchance, to dream- Aye, there's the rub ;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause ; There's the respect, *
That makes calamity of so long life :
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit ofthe unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear,
To groan and sweat under a weary life ;
But that the dread of something after death --
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns,-puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of ?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all ;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought ;
And enterprises of great pith and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.- Soft you, now !
(Seeing Ophelia, who advances, R.H. )
The fair Ophelia :-Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd !
Oph. Good my lord,
How does your honour for this many a day ?
Ham. I humbly thank you ; well.
Oph. My lord, I have remembrances of yours,
That I have longed long to re-deliver ;
I pray you, now receive them.

* Respect, here, signifies consideration.

38 HAMLET .
Ham. No, not I ;
I never gave you ought.
Oph. My honour'd lord, your know right well, you
did ;
And, with them, words ofso sweet breath compos'd
As made the things, more rich their perfume lost,
Take these again ; for to the noble mind
Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind.
There, my lord.
Ham. Ha, ha ! are you honest ?
Oph. My lord !
Ham. Are you fair ?
Oph. What means your lordship ?
Ham. That, if you be honest and fair, you should
admit your honesty to no discourse with your beauty.
Oph. Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce
than with honesty ?
Ham. Aye, truly ; for the power of beauty will
sooner transform honesty from what it is to a bawd,
than the force of honesty can translate beauty into his
likeness this was some time a paradox, but now the
time gives it proof. I did love you once.
Oph. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.
y Ham. You should not have believed me ; for vir
tue cannot so inoculate our old stock, but we shall re
lish of it : I lov'd you not.
Oph. I was the more deceived.
Ham. Get thee to a nunnery : Why would'st thou
be a breeder of sinners ? I am myself indifferent ho
nest ; but yet I could accuse me of such things, that
it were better, my mother had not borne me : I am ve
ry proud, revengeful, ambitious : with more offences
at my back, than I have thoughts to put them in ,
imagination to give them shape , or time to act them
in : What should such fellows as I do crawling be
tween earth and heaven ? We are arrant knaves, all :
believe none of us ; go thy ways to a nunnery.
Where's yourfather ?
Oph. At home, my lord.
 HAMLET. 39
Ham. Let the doors be shut upon him ; that he
may play the fool no where but in's own house . Fare
well.
Oph. O, help him, you sweet heavens !
Ham. If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague
for thy dowry : Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as
snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a
nunnery. Or , if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool ;
for wise men know well enough, what monsters you
make of them. To a nunnery, go.
Oph. Heavenly powers, restore him!
Ham. I have heard of your paintings too, well
enough ; Heaven hath given you one face, and you
make yourselves another : you jig, you amble, and
you lisp, and nickname heaven's creatures, and make
your wantonness your ignorance ; * Go to ; I'll no more
of't ; it hath made me mad. ( Crosses to L.H. ) I say,
we will have no more marriages : those that are mar
ried already, all but one, shall live ; the rest shall keep
as they are. To a nunnery, go. [Exit Hamlet, L.H.
Oph. O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown !
The expectancy† and rose ofthe fair state,
The glass of fashion, and the mould of form ,
The observ'd of all observers, quite, quite down !
And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,
That suck'd the honey of his music vows,
Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh,
O, woe is me !
To have seen what I have seen, see what I see !
[Exit Ophelia, R.H,

Re-enter KING and POLONIUS, R.H.S.E.

King. Love ! his affections do not that way tend ;

Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little,

* You make your wantonness your ignorance- i. e.- you want to

make your wantonness appear the result of your simplicity, as if
you were free in your manners from ignorance of evil.
+ Expectancy- i , e.➡the subject of expectation.
40 HAMLET.
Was not like madness. There's something in his soul,
'
O'er which his melancholy sits on brood.
He shall with speed to England,
For the demand of our neglected tribute :
Haply, the seas, and countries different,
With variable objects, shall expell
This something- settled matter in his heart ;
Whereon his brain's still -beating, puts him thus
From fashion of himself. What think you on't
Pol. It shall do well : but yet do I believe,
The origin and commencement of his grief
Sprung from neglected love.
My lord, do as you please ;
But, if you hold it fit, after the play,
Let his queen mother all alone entreat him
To show his grief ; let her be round with him ;
And I'll be plac'd, so please you, in the ear
Of all their conference : if she finds him not,
To England send him ; or confine him , where
Your wisdom best shall think.
King. It shall be so :
Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go.
[Exeunt, L.H.

Enter the first Actor and HAMLET, R.H.

Ham. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced

mouth
it to you, trippingly on the tongue ; but, if you
it, as many of our players do, I had as lieve the town
crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too
much with your hand, thus ; but use all gently : for in 1
the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say) whirl
wind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a I
temperance, that may give it smoothness.. O, it of
fends me to the soul, to hear a robustious perriwig
pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to
split the ears of the groundlings ; who, for the most
part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb
shows, and noise : I would have such a fellow whipped .
 HAMLET. 41
for o'erdoing Termagant ;* it out-herods Herod : pray
you, avoid it.
1 Act. I warrant your honour.
Ham. Be not too tame neither, but let your own
discretion be your tutor : suit the action to the word,
the word to the action ; with this special observance,
that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature : for any
thing so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose
end, both at the first, and now, was, and is, to hold, as
'twere, the mirror up to nature ; to show virtue her
own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age
and body of the time, his form and pressure.† Now
this, over-done, or come tardy off, though it make the
unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve ;
the censure of which one, must, in your allowance,
o'er-weigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be
players that I have seen play, and heard others praise,
and that highly,-not to speak it profanely, that neither
having the accent of christians, nor the gait of christian,
pagan, or man, have so strutted, and bellowed, that ĺ
have thought some of nature's journeymen had made
men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity
so abominably.
1 Act. I hope, we have reformed that indifferently
with us.
Ham. O, reform it altogether. And let those , that
play your clowns, speak no more than is set down for
them forthere be of them, that will themselves laugh,
to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh
too ; though, in the mean time, some necessary ques
tion of the play be then to be considered : that's vil
lainous ; and shows a most pitiful ambition in the
fool that uses it. Go, make you ready. -
Horatio ! [Exit 1 Actor, L.H.

* Termagant—A Saracen deity, very clamourous and violent in

our old moralities.
+ Pressure-impression, thus before
" I'll wipe away all forms, all pressures past." --ɑ. 1. §. 5.
42 HAMLET.

Enter HORATIO, R.H.

Hor. Here, sweet lord, at your service.

Ham. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man*
As e'er my conversation cop'd withal.
Hor. O, my dear lord.
Ham. Nay, do not think I flatter :
For what advancement may I hope from thee,
That no revenue hast, but thy good spirits,
To feed and clothe thee ? Why should the poor be
flattered ?
No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,
And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee,
Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear ?
Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice,
And could of men distinguish, her election t
Hath seal'd thee for herself ; for thou hast been
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing ;
A man, that fortune's buffets and rewards
Hast ta'en with equal thanks : and bless'd are those,
Whose blood and judgment are so well co-mingled,
That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger
To sound what stop she pleases: give me that man
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
In my heart's core, aye, in my heart, of hearts
As I do thee.- Something too much of this.—
There is a play to-night before the king ;
One scene of it comes near the circumstance,
Which I have told thee of my father's death.
I pr'ythee, when thou see'st that act a-foot,
E'en with the very comment of thy soul
Observe my uncle : if his occulted guilt
Do not itself unkennel in one speech,
It is a damned ghost that we have seen ;
And my imaginations are as foul
•
As Vulcan's stithy :† give him heedful note :

* Asjust a man—As perfect, as complete in all respects.

+ Stithy-anvil.
 HAMLET. 43
For I mine eyes will rivet to his face ;
And, after, we will both our judgments join
In censure of his seeming.
Hor. Well, my lord, --
Ham. They are coming to the play ; I must be idle :
Get you a place. (Music. )

Enter POLONIUS, KING, QUEEN, OPHELIA, ROSEN

CRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, OSRICK, MARCELlus,
BERNARDO, FRANCISCO, Lords and Ladies, L.H.U.E.

King. How fares our cousin Hamlet ?

Ham. Excellent, i'faith ; of the camelion's dish : I
I eat the air, promise-cramm'd : you cannot feed ca
pons so.
King. I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet ;
these words are not mine.
Ham. No, nor mine now.- My lord,-you play'd
once in the university, you say ?
Pol. That did I, my lord ; and was accounted a
good actor.
Ham. And what did you enact ?
Pol. I did enact Julius Cæsar : I was kill'd i' the
capitol ; Brutus kill'd me. 1
Ham. It was a brute part of him, to kill so capital a
calf there. -Be the players ready ?
Ros. Aye, my lord ; they stay upon your patience.
Queen. Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me.
Ham. No, good mother, here's metal more attractive.
Pol. O ho ! do you mark that ? (To the King)
Ham. Lady, shall I lie in your lap ?
Oph. You are merry, my lord.
(Lying down at Ophelia's feet.)
Ham. O! your only jig-maker. What should a
man do, but be merry ? for, look you, how cheerfully
my mother looks, and my father died within these two
hours.
Oph. Nay, ' tis twice two months, my lord..
Ham. So long ? Nay then let the devil wear black,
for I'll have a suit of sables. Die two months ago, and
44 HAMLET.
not forgotten yet ? Then there's hope, a great man's
memory may outlive his life half a year : but, by'r- lady,
he must build churches then.
Oph. What means the play, my lord ?
Ham. Miching mallecho :* it means mischief.
Oph. But what is the argument of the play ?

Enter second Actor as the Prologue, on a raised

stage, L.H..

Ham. We shall know by this fellow,

2 Act. For us and for our tragedy,

Here stooping to your clemency,
We beg your hearing patiently.
[Exit 2 Actor, R.H

Ham. Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring ?

Oph. 'Tis brief, my lord.
Ham. As woman's love.

Enterfirst Actor and the Actress, as a Duke and

Duchess, on raised stage, L.H.

1 Act. Full thirty times hath Phabus' car gone

round
Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our hands,
Unite commutual in most sacred bands.
Actress. So manyjournies may the sun and moon
Make us again count o'er, ere love be done !
But, woe is me ! you are so sick oflate,
Sofar from cheer, and from your former state,
That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust,
Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must ;
For women fear too much, even as they love.
Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know ;
And as my love is fix'd, my fear is so.
Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear ;

* Miching mallecho-A concealed wickedness.

 HAMLET. 45

Where littlefears grow great, great love grows there.

A Actor. Faith, I must leave thee love, and shortly
too ;
My operant powers theirfunctions leave to do :
And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,
Honour'd, belov'd,—and, haply, one as kind
For husband shalt thou—
Actress. O, confound the rest !
Such love must needs be treason in my breast :
In second husband let me be accurst !
None wed the second, but who kill'd the first.
Ham. That's wormwood.
1 Actor. I do believe, you think what now you
speak ;
But what we do determine, oft we break.
So think thou wilt no second husband wed ;
But die thy thoughts, when thy first lord is dead.
Actress. Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light,
Sport and repose lock from me, day and night,
Both here, and hence, pursue me lasting strife,
If, once a widow, ever I be wife! (Embraces him.)
1. Actor. 'Tis deeply sworn.
Ham. If she should break it now,
1 Actor. Sweet, leave me here a while ;
My spirits grow dull, andfain I would beguile
The tedious day with sleep.
(Crosses to seat,—he sleeps.)
Actress. Sleep rock thy brain ;
And never come mischance between us twain.
[Exit Actress, L.H.
Ham. Madam, how like you this play ?
Queen. The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
Ham. O, but she'll keep her word.
King. Have you heard the argument ? Is there no
offence in't ?
Ham. No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest ; no
offence i'the world.
King. What do you call the play ?
46 HAMLET.
Ham. The mouse -trap. Marry, how ? Tropically, *
This play is the image of a murder done in Vienna :
Gonzago is the duke's name ; his wife, Baptista. You
shall see anon, ' tis a knavish piece of work : but what
of that ? your majesty, and we that have free souls, it
touches us not ; let the gall'd jade wince, our withers
are unwrung.

Enter third Actor, as LUCIANUS, L.H.

This is one Lucianus, nephew to the duke.

Oph. You are as good as a chorus, my lord.
Ham. I could interpret between you and your love,
if I could see the puppets dallying. Begin, murderer
-leave thy damnable faces, and begin. Come :
The croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.
3 Actor. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit,
and time agreeing ;
Confederate season, else no creature seeing ;
Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected,
With Hecat's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,
Thy natural magic, and dire property,
On wholesome life usurp immediately .
1
(Pours the poison into his ear, and exit, L.H.)
Ham. He poisons him i'the garden for his estate. 1
His name's Gonzago ; the story is extant, and written
in very choice Italian : you shall see anon, how the
murderer gets the love of Gonzago's wife.
King. Give me some light :-away!
Pol. Lights, lights, lights !
[ Exeunt all but Hamlet and Horatio, severally.
Ham. Why, let the strucken deer go weep,
The hart ungalled play :
For some must watch, while some must sleep ;
Thus runs the world away.
O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a thou
sand pound. Did'st perceive ?
Hor. Very well, my lord.

* Tropically-i. e.-by a trope- metaphorically.

 HAMLET . 47
Ham. Upon the talk of the poisoning,
Hor. I did very well note him.
Ham. Ah, ha ! -Come, some music ; come, the
recorders.* [Exit Horatio, R.H.

Enter GUILDENSTERN and ROSENCRANTZ, L.H.

Guil. Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you .

Ham. Sir, a whole history.
Guil. The king, sir,—
Ham. Aye, sir, what of him ?
Guil. Is, in his retirement, marvellous distemper'd .
Ham. With drink, sir ?
Guil. No, my lord, with choler. 1

3. Ham. Your wisdom should show itself richer, to

signify this to the doctor ; for, for me to put him to
his purgation, would, perhaps, plunge him into more
choler.
Guil. Good my lord, put your discourse into some
frame, and start not so wildly from my affair.
Ham. I am tame, sir : -pronounce .
Guil. The queen, your mother, in most great afflic
tion of spirit, hath sent me to you.
Ham. You are welcome.
Guil. Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of
the right breed. If it shall please you to make me a
wholesome answer, I will do your mother's command
ment : if not, your pardon, and my return shall be the
end of my business.
Ham. Sir, I cannot.
Guil. What, my lord ?
Ham . Make you a wholesome answer ; my wit's
diseas'd : But, sir, such answer as I can make, you
shall command ; or, rather, as you say, my mother :
网
therefore no more, but to the matter : my mother,
you say,
Ros. Then, thus she says ; your behaviour hath
struck her into amazement and admiration .
Ham. O wonderful son , that can so astonish a mo
ther !-But is there no sequel at the heels of this mo
ther's admiration ? impart.
 48 HAMLET ..
Ros. She desires to speak with you, in her closet,
ere you go to bed.
Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our mo
ther.
Have you any further trade with us?
Ros. My lord, you once did love me.
Ham. And do still, by these pickers and stealers.
(Crosses to the centre,)
Ros. Good my lord, what is your cause of distem
per? You do, surely, bar the door upon your own
liberty, if you deny your griefs to your friend.
Ham. Sir, I lack advancement.
Ros. How can that be, when you have the voice of
the king himself for your succession in Denmark ?
Ham. Aye, sir ; but, while the grass grows,―The
proverb is something musty. ( Crosses to R.H.)

Enter HORATIO and two Musicians, with

Recorders, R.H.

O, the recorders,-let me see one.- ( Takes a recorder.)

So, withdraw with you . ( Guild. crosses behind to R.H.)
[Exeunt Horatio and Musicians, R.H.
Why do you go about to recover the wind of me, as if
you would drive me into a toil ?
Guil. O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love
is too unmannerly.
Ham. I do not well understand that.-Will you
play upon this pipe ? 1
Guil. My lord, I cannot.
Ham. I pray you .
Guil. Believe me, I cannot.
Ham. I do beseech you.
Ros. I know no touch of it, my lord.
Ham. 'Tis as easy as lying : govern these ventages
with your fingers and thumb, give it breath, with your
mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music.
Look you, these are the stops. 1
Guild. But these cannot I command to any utter
ance of harmony ; I have not the skill.
 HAMLET. 49
Ham. Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing
you make of me ! You would play upon me ; you
would seem to know my stops ; you would pluck out
the heart of my mystery ; you would sound me from
my lowest note to the top of my compass and there
is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ ;
yet cannot you make it speak. ' Sdeath, do you think,
I am easier to be played on than a pipe ? Call me what
instrument you will, though you may fret me, you can
not play upon me. (Crosses to R.H. )

Enter POLONIUS, R.H.

Pol. My lord, the queen would speak with you, and

presently.
Ham. Do you see yonder cloud, that's almost in
shape of a camel ?
Pol. By the mass, and ' tis like a camel , indeed.
Ham. Methinks, it is like a weasel.
Pol. It is back'd like a weasel.
Ham. Or, like a whale ?
Pol. Very like a whale.
Ham. Then will I come to my mother by-and -bye .
-They fool me to the top of my bent.-I will come
by-and-bye.
Pol. I will say so: [Exit Polonius, R.H.D.
Ham. By-and-bye is easily said.- Leave me, friends.
[Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, R.H.
'Tis now the very witching time of night ;
When church-yards yawn, and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot
blood,
And do such business as the better day
Would quake to look on. Soft-now to my mother.
O, heart, lose not thy nature ; let not ever
The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom :
Let me be cruel—not unnatural :
I will speak daggers to her, but use none.
[ Exit Hamlet, R.H.D.
D
50 HAMLET .

SCENE III.-A Room in the Palace.

Enter the KING, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN,

L.H.

King. I like him not ; nor stands it safe with us

To let his madness range. Therefore, prepare you :
I your commission will forthwith dispatch,
And he to England shall along with you :
Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage ;
For we will fetters put upon this fear,
Which now goes too free-footed.

[Exit Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, L.H.

Enter POLONIUS, R.H.

Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet ;

Behind the arras I'll convey myself,
To hear the process ; I'll warrant she'll tax him home :
And, as you said, and wisely was it said,
1
'Tis meet, that some more audience, than a mother,
Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear
The speech of vantage. Fare-you-well, my liege ; 1
I'll call upon you e'er you go to bed,
And tell you what I know.
King. Thanks, dear my lord.
[Exeunt, King, R.H. and Polonius, L.H.

SCENE IV.- The Queen's Closet.

Enter QUEEN and POLONIUS, L.H.

Pol. He will come straight. Look, you lay home

to him :
 HAMLET. 51
Tell him, his pranks have been too broad to bear with ;
And that your grace hath screen'd and stood between
Much heat and him.- I'll sconce* me even here.
Pray you be round with him.
Queen. I'll warrant you—
Fear me not- Withdraw, I hear him coming.
(Polonius conceals himself behind the Arras, L.H.)

Enter HAMLET, R.H.D.

Ham. Now, mother ; what's the matter ?

Queen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.
Ham. Mother, you have my father much offended.
Queen. Come, come, you answer with an idle
tongue.
Ham. Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.
Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet ?
Ham. What's the matter now ?
Queen. Have you forgot me ?
Ham. No, by the rood,† not so :
You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife ;
And-'would it were not so !-you are my mother.
Queen. Nay, then I'll set those to you that can
speak.
Ham. Come, come, and sit you down ; you shall
not budge ;
You go not, till I set you up a glass
Where you may see the inmost part of you.
Queen. What wilt thou do ? thou wilt not murder
me ?
Help, help, ho !
Pol. (Behind.) What, ho ! help !
Ham. How now ! a rat ?
Dead, for a ducat, dead.

* Sconce- i.e.- insconce ; to cover or secure.

+ The rood- properly signifies the cross with the image of our
Saviour crucified ; but it is here used as in many other places for
the cross simply.
D 2
52 HAMLET.

(Hamlet draws, and makes a pass through

the Arras.
Pol. (Behind.) Oh ! Oh ! Oh !
(Polonius falls and dies, L.H.)
Queen. Oh, me ! what hast thou done ?
Ham. Nay, I know not
Is it the king ?
Queen. Oh, what a rash and bloody deed is this !
Ham. A bloody deed ; almost as bad, good mother,
As kill a king, and marry with his brother.
Queen. As kill a king ?
Ham. Aye, lady, ' twas my word—
(Lifts up the Arras, and sees Polonius.)
Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool , farewell !
I took thee for thy better. (To the Queen.)
Leave wringing of your hands- peace-sit you down,
And let me wring your heart ; for so I shall,
If it be made of penetrable stuff ;
If damned custom have not braz'd it so,
That it be proof and bulwark against sense.
Queen. What have I done, that thou dar'st wag thy
tongue
In noise so rude against me ?
Ham. Such an act,
That blurs the grace and blush of modesty ; [
Calls virtue, hypocrite ; takes off the rose
From the fair forehead of an innocent love,
And sets a blister there ; makes marriage vows
As false as dicers' oaths. Oh, such a deed,
As from the body of contraction* plucks
The very soul ; and sweet religion makes
A rhapsody of words
Ah me, that act !
Queen. Ah me ! what act ?
Ham. Look here, upon this picture, and on this ;
The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
See, what a grace was seated on this brow

* Contraction- contract in marriage.

 HAMLET. 53
Hyperion's curls ; the front of Jove himself:*
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command ;
A station+ like the herald Mercury,
New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill ;
A combination, and a form, indeed,
Where every god did seem to set his seal,
To give the world assurance of a man :
This was your husband.-Look you now, what fol
lows :
Here is your husband, like a mildew'd ear,
Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes ?
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,
And batten on this Moor ? Ha ! have you eyes ?
You cannot call it love ; for, at your age,
The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble,
And waits upon the judgment-and what judgment
Would step from this to this ?
O shame ! where is thy blush ? Rebellious hell,
If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,
To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,
And melt in her own fire.
Queen. O Hamlet, speak no more ;
Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul ;
And there I see such black and grained spots,
As will not leave their tinct.
Ham. Nay, but to live
In the rank sweat of an enseamed§ bed
Queen. No more, sweet Hamlet.
Ham. A murderer, and a villain ;
A slave, that is not twentieth part the tythe
Of your precedent lord- a vice of kings ;
A cutpurse of the empire and the rule ;
That from a shelf the precious diadem stole ,
And put it in his pocket

* Alluding to the description of Phidia's Jupiter, from Homer.

+ Station- attitude ; manner of standing.
+ Grained- i. e.- dyed in grain.
§ Enseamed-greasy ; seam is hogslard.
D3
54 HAMLET.

Enter GHOST, R.H.D.

A king of shreds and patches :

Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings,
You heavenly guards ! What would your gracious
figure ?
Queen. Alas ! he's mad.
Ham. Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
That, laps'd in time and passion, lets go by
The important acting of your dread command ?
Oh , say !
Ghost. Do not forget-this visitation
Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
But, look, amazement on thy mother sits :
Oh, step between her and her fighting soul.
Speak to her, Hamlet.
Ham. How is it with you, lady ?
Queen. Alas ! how is't with you ?
That you do bend your eye on vacancy,
And with the incorporal air do hold discourse !
Oh, gentle son,
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
Sprinkle cool patience . Whereon do you look ?
Ham. On him ! on him ! -Look you, how pale he
glares !
His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones,
Would make them capable. * (To Ghost.) Do not look
upon me ;
Lest, with this piteous action, you convert
My stern effects ; then what I have to do
Will want true colour ; tears, perchance, for blood.
Queen. To whom do you speak this ?
Ham. Do you see nothing there ?
Queen. Nothing at all ; yet all, that is, I see.
Ham. Nor did you nothing hear ?
Queen. No, nothing but ourselves .
(Ghost crosses to L.H.)
Ham. Why, look you there ! look how it steals
away !
* Capable—i, e.— intelligent.
 HAMLET . 55
My father, in his habit as he liv'd !`
Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal !
[Exit Ghost, L.H.D.
Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain :
This bodiless creation ecstasy*
Is very cunning in.
Ham. Ecstasy !
My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,
And makes as healthful music : it is not madness
That I have utter'd : bring me to the test,
And I the matter will re-word ; which madness
Would gambol from . Mother, for love of grace,
Lay not that flattering unction to your soul,
That not your trespass, but my madness , speaks ;
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place ;
Whiles rank corruption , mining all within,
Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven ;
Repent what's past ; avoid what is to come.
Queen. Oh, Hamlet ! thou hast cleft my heart in
twain.
Ham. Oh, throw away the worser part of it,
And live the purer with the other half.
Good night ; but go not to my uncle's bed ;
Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
Once more, good night !
And when you are desirous to be bless'd,
I'll blessing beg of you.- For this same lord,
I do repent ;
I will bestow him, and will answer well
The death I gave him. So, again, good night !
[Exit Queen, R.H.
I must be cruel only to be kind :
Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.
[Exit, L.H.D.
* Ecstacy- i.e.- madness.

END OF ACT III.

D 4
 1
56 HAMLET. 1

ACT IV.

SCENE I.— An Apartment in the Palace.

Enter KING and QUEEN , L.H.

King. There's matter in these sighs, these profound

heaves,
You must translate ; ' tis fit we understand them ;
How does Hamlet ?
Queen. Mad as the sea and wind when both con
tend
Which is the mightier- In this lawless fit,
Behind the arras hearing something stir,
Whips out his rapier, cries " A rat ! a rat ! "
And, in this brainish apprehension, kills
The unseen good old man.
King. Oh, heavy deed !
It had been so with us had we been there.
Where is he gone ?
Queen. To draw apart the body he hath kill'd.
King. The sun no sooner shall the mountains
touch,
But we will ship him hence ; and this vile deed
We must, with all our majesty and skill,
Both countenance and excuse. Ho ! Guildenstern !

Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN , L.H.

1
Friends both, go join you with some further aid ;
Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain,
And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him ;
Go seek him out ; speak fair, and bring the body
Into the chapel . I pray you, haste in this.
[Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, L.H.
Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends,
And let them know, both what we mean to do,
And what's untimely done. (Crosses to R.H.)
[Exeunt King and Queen, R.H.
 HAMLET. 57

SCENE II.- Another Room in the Palace.

Enter HAMLET, L.H.

Ham. Safely Stow'd,

Ros. (Within, R.H.) Hamlet ! Lord Hamlet !
Ham: What noise ? who calls on Hamlet ? O, here
they come .

Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN, R.H.

Ros. What have you done, my lord, with the dead

body ?
Ham. Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis
kin.
Ros. Tell us where ' tis ; that we may take it thence,
and bear it to the chapel.
Ham. Do not believe it.
Ros. Believe what ?
Ham. That I can keep your counsel, and not mine
own. Besides, to be demanded of a spunge ! -what
replication should be made by the son of a king ?
Ros. Take you me for a spunge, my lord ?
Ham. Aye, sir ; that soaks up the king's counte
nance, his rewards, his authorities. But such officers
do the king best service in the end ; he keeps them,
like an ape, in the corner of his jaw ; first mouth'd, to
be last swallow'd : When he needs what you have
glean'd, it is but squeezing you, and, spunge, you shall
be dry again.
Ros. I understand you not, my lord.
Ham. I am glad of it : A knavish speech sleeps in
a foolish ear.
Ros. My lord, you must tell us where the body is,
and go with us to the king.
Ham. Bring me to him. [Exeunt, R.H.D.
D 5
 58 HAMLET.

T
SCENE III .- An Apartment in the Palace.

Enter the KING, attended, L.H.

King. How dangerous is it that this man goes

loose !
Yet must not we put the strong law on him ;
He's lov'd of the distracted multitude,
Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes ;
And, where ' tis so, the offender's scourge is weigh'd,
But never the offence. 1

Enter ROSENCRANTZ, R.H.D. T

How now ? what hath befallen ? 明

Ros. Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord,

We cannot get from him ?
King. But where is he ?
Ros. Without, my lord, guarded, to know your
pleasure.
King. Bring him before us.
Ros. Ho, Guildenstern ! bring in my lord.

Enter GUILDENSTERN and HAMLET, R.H.D.

King. Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius ?

Ham. At supper.
King. At supper ? where ?
Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten ; a
" certain convocation of politic worms are e'en at him.
King. Where is Polonius ?
Ham. In heaven ; send thither to see ; if your mes
senger find him not there, seek him in the other place
yourself. But, indeed, if you find him not within this
month, you shall nose him as you go up the stairs into
the lobby.
King. Go, seek him there.
Ham. He will stay till you come.
[Exit Guildenstern , R.H.D,
 HAMLET. 59
King. Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety,
Must send thee hence ;
Therefore prepare thyself : -
The bark is ready, and the wind at help,
For England.
Ham. For England !
King. Aye, Hamlet.
Ham. Good.
King. So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes.
Ham. I see a cherub, that sees them,-But, come ;
for England !-Farewell, dear mother.
King. Thy loving father, Hamlet.
Ham. My mother : -Father and mother is man and
wife ; man and wife is one flesh ; and so, my mother.
Come, for England. [Exit Hamlet, R.H.D.
King. Follow him at foot,* tempt him with speed
aboard;
Away; for every thing is seal'd and done, -
[Exit Rosencrantz, R.H.D.
And England, if my love thou hold'st at ought,
Let it be testified in Hamlet's death. [Exit, L.H.
SCENE IV.- Another Room in the Palace.

Enter the QUEEN and HORATIO, L.H.S.E.

Queen. I will not speak with her.

Hor. She is importunate indeed , distract :
"Twere good she were spoken with ; for she may strew
Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.
Queen. Let her come in. [Exit Horatio, L.H.
Oph. (Without, L.H. ) Where is the beauteous ma
jesty of Denmark ?
Queen. How, now, Ophelia ? (Crosses to R.H.)
Re-enter HORATIO with OPHELIA.

Oph. (Sings.) How should I your true love know

From another one ?
By his cockle hat and staff,
And his Sandal shoon.
* Atfoot-i, e.-At his heels, closely.
D6
60 HAMLET.

Queen. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song ?

Oph. Say you ? nay, pray you mark.
(Sings. ) He is dead and gone, lady,
He is dead and gone ;
At his head a grass-green turf,
At his heels a stone.

Enter KING, R.H.

Queen. Nay, but, Ophelia,

Oph. Pray, you, mark.
(Sings.) White his shroud as the mountain snow,
Larded all with sweet flowers :
Which bewept to the grave did go
With true love showers .
(Crosses to the King.)
King. How do you, pretty lady ?
Oph. Well, heaven ' ield you ! They say, the owl
was a baker's daughter.† We know what we are, but
know not what we may be.
King. Conceit upon her father.
Oph. Pray, let's have no words of this : but when
they ask you, what it means, say this ;
Sings.) Good morrow , ' tis Saint Valentine's day,
All in the morning betime,
And I a maid at your window,
Tobe your Valentine.
King. Pretty Ophelia !
Oph. Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end on't
(Sings.) Then up he rose, and donn'd his clothes,
And dupp'd the chamber door ;
Let in the maid, that out a maid
Never departed more. (Grosses to R.H.)
King. How long hath she been thus ?
Oph. I hope, all will be well . We must be patient :
* Heaven ' ield- i. e.- heaven reward.
+ Alluding to a legendary story, wherein our Saviour being re
fused bread by the daughter of a baker, is described as punishing
by turning her into an owl.
‡ Dupp'd—i. e.—to do up ; to lift the latch.
 3

HAMLET. 61
but I cannot choose but weep, to think, they should
lay him i' the cold ground : My brother shall know of
it, and so I thank you for your good counsel . Come,
my coach ! Good night, ladies ; good night, sweet
ladies ; good night, good night. [ Exit Ophelia, R.H.
King. Follow her close give her good watch, I
pray you. [Exit Horatio, R.H.
O ! this is the poison of deep grief ; it springs
All from her father's death. (A noise without, L.H. )
Enter MARCELLUS , L.H.
What's the matter ?
Mar. Save yourself, my lord ;
The young Laertes, in a riotous head,
O'erbears your officers the rabble call him, lord ;
They cry, Choose we, Laertes shall be king !
Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds,
Laertes shall be king, Laertes king !
(A Noise without, L.H.)
Laer. (Without L.H. ) Where is this king?-Sirs,
stand you all without.

Enter LAERTes, l.h.

O thou vile king.
Give me my father. [ Exit Marcellus, L.H.
Queen. Calmly, good Laertes.
Laer. That drop of blood, that's calm, proclaims me
bastard ;
Cries, cuckold, to my father ; brands the harlot
Even here, between the chaste unsmirched* brow
Of my true mother.
King. What is the cause, Laertes,
That thy rebellion looks so giant-like ?—
Let him go, Gertrude ; do not fear our person ;
There's such divinity doth hedge a king,
That treason can but peep to what it would.
Let him go, Gertrude.
Laer. Where's my father ?

* Unsmirched- Unstained- unsoiled.

62 HAMLET .
1
King. Dead.
Queen. But not by him.
King. Let him demand his fill .
Laer. How came he dead ? I'll not be juggled with :
To hell, allegiance ! eter Lo wee
To this point I stand,
That both the worlds I give to negligence ,
Let come what comes ; only I'll be reveng'd,
Most throughly for my father.
King. Who shall stay you ?
Laer. My will, not all the world's : *
And, for means, I'll husband them so well,
They shall go far with little.
King. Good Laertes,
That I am guiltless of your father's death,
And am most sensible in grief for it,
It shall as level to your judgment ' pear,
As day does to your eye.
Hor. (without, R.H. ) Oh, poor Ophelia !
King. Let her come in.

Enter OPHELIA, fantastically dressed with Straws

and Flowers, R.H.

Laer. O rose of May ! (Crosses to her.)

Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia !
O heavens ! is it possible, a young maid's wits
Should be as mortal as an old man's life ?
Oph. (Sings.)
They bore him bare-fac'd on the bier ;
And in his grave rain'd many a tear ; —
Fare you well, my dove !
Laer. Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade re
venge,
It could not move thus.
Oph. You must sing, ( Sings.)
Down a- down, an you call him a-down-a.

* My will, not all the world's &c.- Perhaps it should be read thus.
-My will, not all the world, &c.- i . e.- By my will, as far as my
will is concerned, not all the world shall stop me ; and as for my
means I'll husband them so well, they shall go far, though
really little.
 1

HAMLET. 63

O, how the wheel* becomes it ! It is the false steward,

that stole his master's daughter.
"
Laer. This nothing's more than matter.
Oph. (To Laer.) There's rosemary, that's for re
membrance ; pray you, love, remember ; and there is
pansies, that's for thoughts.
Laer. A document in madness ; thoughts and re
membrance fitted.
Oph. There's fennel for you, and columbines :-(To
the King.) there's rue for you ; (To the Queen.)—
and here's some for me :-we may call it herb of grace
o'Sunday's :-you may wear your rue with a differ
ence.- There's a daisy : I would give you some violets ;
but they withered all, when my father died. -They say
he made a good end, - ( Sings .) - For bonny sweet
robin is all my joy.
Laer. Thought and affliction, passion , hell itself,
She turns to favour, and to prettiness.

Oph. (Sings.) And will he not come again ?

And will he not come again ?
No, no, he is dead,
Go to thy death-bed,
He never will come again.

His beard was as white as snow,

Allflaxen was his pole :
He is gone, heis gone,
And we cast away moan;
And peace be with his soul!

And with all christian souls ! I pray heaven.

[Exeunt Ophelia and Queen, L.H.
King. Laertes, I must commune with your grief,
Or you deny me right. Go but apart,
Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will,

* Wheel-i. e.- burthen of the song.

 64 HAMLET .
And they shall hear and judge ' twixt you and me :
If by direct, or by collateral hand
They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give,
Our crown, our life, and all that we call ours,
To you in satisfaction ; but, if not,
Be you content to lend your patience to us,
And we shall jointly labour with your soul
To give it due content.
Laer. Let this be so ;
His means of death, his obscure funeral ,
No trophy, sword, or hatchment, o'er his bones,
No noble right, nor formal ostentation, ―
Cry, to be heard, as ' twere, from heaven to earth,
That I must call't in question .
King. So you shall ;
And, where the offence is, let the great axe fall.
[Exeunt, R.H.

SCENE V.-An Apartment in the Palace.

Enter HORATIO and FRANCISCO, R.H.

Hor. What are they, that would speak with me ?

Fran. Sailors, sir ;
They say, they have letters for you.
Hor. Let them come in. (Crosses behind.)
[Exit Francisco, L.H.
I do not know from what part of the world
I should be greeted, if not from lord Hamlet.

Enter two Sailors, L.H.

1 Sail. Heaven bless you, sir.

Hor. Let him bless thee too.
1 Sail. He shall, sir, an't please him. There's a
letter for you, sir-it comes from the embassador that
was bound for England-if your name be Horatio, as
I am let to know it is.
Hor. (Reads the letter.) Horatio, when thou shalt
 HAMLET . 65
have overlook'd this, give these fellows some means*
to the king; they have lettersfor him. Rosencrantz
and Guildenstern hold their course for England ; of
them I have much to tell thee.-A pirate of very
warlike appointment gave us chase : Finding our
selves too slow of sail, we put on a compelled valour,
and in the grapple I boarded them : on the instant,
they got clear of our ship ; so I alone became their
prisoner. They have dealt with me, like thieves of
mercy ; but they knew what they did ; I am to do a
good turnfor them. Let the king have the letters I
have sent ; and repair thou to me with as much haste,
as thou wouldst fly death. These good fellows will
bring thee where I am. Farewell.
He that thou knowest thine,
HAMLET.
Come, I will give you way for these your letters ;
(Crosses to L.H.)
And do't the speedier, that you may direct me
To him from whom you brought them. [Exeunt, L.H.

SCENE VI.- Another room in the Palace.

Enter KING and LAERTES, R.H.

King. Now must your conscience my acquittance

seal ;
Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear,
That he, which hath your noble father slain,
Pursued my life.
Lear. And so have I a noble father lost ;
A sister driven into desperate terms ;
Whose worth
Stood challenger on mount of all the age
For her perfections : But my revenge will come.
King. Break not your sleeps for that : you must not
think,
That we are made of stuff so flat and dull,

Means to the king- i. e.- Some means of access to the king.

66 HAMLET.
That we can let our beard be shook with danger,
And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more.
How now? what news ?

Enter BERNARdo, l.h.

Ber. Letters, my lord, from Hamlet :

This to your majesty ; this to the queen.
King. From Hamlet ! Who brought them ?
Ber. Sailors, my lord, they say ; I saw them not.
King. Laertes, you shall hear them.- (To Ber.)
Leave us. [Bernardo crosses behind, and exit, R.H.

(Reads.) High and mighty, you shall know, I am

set naked on your kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg
leave to see your kingly eyes : when I shall, first
asking your pardon thereunto, recount the occasion
of my sudden and more strange return.
HAMLET.
What should this mean ? Are all the rest come back ?
Or is it some abuse, and no such thing ?
Laer. Know you the hand ?
King. "Tis Hamlet's character. - Naked,
And, in a postcript here, he says, alone,
Can you advise me ?
Laer. I am lost in it, my lord. But let him come ;
It warms the very sickness in my heart,
That I shall live and tell him to his teeth,
Thus diddest thou.
King. If it be so, Laertes,
Will you be rul'd by me?
Laer. Aye, my lord ;
So you will not o'er rule me to a peace.
King. To thine own peace. Ifhe be now return'd,—
As checking at his voyage, and that he means
No more to undertake it, I will work him
To an exploit, now ripe in my device,
Under the which he shall not choose but fall :
And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe ;
 HAMLET. 67

But even his mother shall uncharge* the practice,

And call it, accident.
Laer. My lord, I will be rul'd ;
The rather, if you could devise it so,
That I might be the organ.
King. It falls right.
You have been talk'd of since your travel much,
And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality
Wherein, they say, you shine.
Laer. What part is that, my lord ?
King. A veryribband in the cap of youth.
Here was a gentleman of Normandy,
He made confession of you ;
And gave you such a masterly report,
For art and exercise in your defence,
And for your rapier most especial,
That he cried out, ' twould be a sight indeed,
If one could match you :
This report of his
Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy,
That he could nothing do, but wish and beg
Your sudden coming o'er, to play with you.
Now, out of this,
Lear. What out of this, my lord ?
King. Laertes, was your father dear to you ?
Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,
A face without a heart ?
Laer. Why ask you this ?
King. Hamlet comes back : What would you un
dertake,
To show yourself in deed your father's son
More than in words ?
Laer. To cut his throat i' the church.
King. No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize.
Hamlet, return'd, shall know you are come home :
We'll put on those shall praise your excellence,
And set a double varnish on the fame
The Frenchman gave you ; bring you, in fine, together,

* Uncharge- The practice-acquit us of the practice.

68 HAMLET.
And wager o'er your heads : he, being remiss,
Most generous, and free from all contriving,
Will not peruse the foils ; so that with ease,
Or with a little shuffling, you may choose
A sword unbated †, and, in a pass of practice,
Requite him for your father.
Laer. I will do't :
And, for the purpose, I'll anoint my sword.
I bought an unction of a mountebank,
So mortal, that, but dip a knife in it,
Where it draws blood, no cataplasm so rare,
Collected from all simples that have virtue
Under the moon, can save the thing from death,
That is but scratch'd withal : I'll touch my point
With this contagion ; that, if I gall him slightly,
It may be death .
King. Let's further think of this ;--
We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings,
When in your motion you are hot and dry,
(As make your bouts more violent to that end, )
And that he calls for drink, I'll have preferr'd him
A chalice for the nonce ‡ ; whereon but sipping,
If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck,
Our purpose may hold there. But stay, what noise ?

* Peruse- Consider the word is not unfrequently used in this

acceptation.
+ Sword unbated- i. e.- not blunted as foils are.

For the nonce-This is sometimes written for the nones, and it

always means for the once, for the present purpose, for the imme
diate subject of question. The progress of the word may be thus
traced : a ones, an anes, for the ones, for the nanes, for nones, for
the nonce .
" Would you live free from all diseases ?
Do the act your mistress pleases ;
Yea, fright all aches from your bones ?
Here's a med'cine for the nones."
Fox, a. 2. s. 1 ,
" I have cases of buckram for the nonce,
To enmask our outward noted garments."
First Part ofKing Henry Fourth, a. 4. s. 3.
 HAMLET. 69

Enter QUEEN, L.H.

Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's heel,

So fast they follow :-Your sister's drown'd, Laertes.
Laer. Drown'd ! O , where ?
Queen. There is a willow grows ascaunt the brook,
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream :
Therewith fantastic garlands did she make
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples ;
There on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke ;
When down her weedy trophies, and herself,
Fell in the weeping brook.
Laer. I forbid my tears :-But yet
It is our trick ; nature her custom holds,
Let shame say what it will.
Adieu, my lord ! (Crosses to R.H.)
I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze,
But that this folly drowns it. [Exeunt, R.H.
END OF ACT IV.

ACT V.

SCENE I -A Church- Yard.

Enter two GRAVE-DIGGERS, L.H.S.E.

1 G. D. (R.H.) Is she to be bury'd in christian

burial, that wilfully seeks her own salvation ?
2 G. D. I tell thee she is ; therefore, make her grave
straight the crowner hath set on her, and finds it
christian burial .
1 G. D. How can that be, unless she drowned her
self in her own defence ?
70 HAMLET.
2 G. D. Why, ' tis found so .
1 G. D. It must be se offendendo ; it cannot be
else . For here lies the point : If I drown myself wit
tingly, it argues an act : and an act hath three branches ;
it is, to act, to do, and to perform. Argal, she drowned
herself wittingly.
2 G. D. Nay, but hear you, goodman delver.
1 G. D. Give me leave. (Crosses to L.H.) Here
lies the water ; good : ( Crosses to R.H. ) here stands
the man ; good . If the man go to this water, and
drown himself, it is , will he , nill he , he goes ; mark
you that but if the water come to him, and drown
him, he drowns not himself. Argal, he that is not
guilty of his own death, shortens not his own life.
2 G. D. But is this law ?
1 G. D. Aye, marry is't ; crowner's- quest law.
2 G. D. Will you ha' the truth on't ? If this had
not been a gentlewoman, she should have been bury'd
out of christian burial.
1 G. D. Why, there thou say'st ; and the more pity,
that great folks should have countenance in this world
to drown or hang themselves, more than their even
Christian. Come, my spade . There is no ancient
gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers ;
they hold up Adam's profession.
2 G. D. Was he a gentleman ?
1 G. D. He was the first that ever bore arms. I'll
put a question to thee : if thou answerest me not to the
purpose, confess thyself.
2 G. D. Go to.
1 G. D. What is he that builds stronger than either
the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter ?
2 G. D. The gallows-maker ; for that frame out
lives a thousand tenants. "
1 G. D. I like thy wit well, in good faith ; the gal
lows does well. But how does it well ? it does well to
those that do ill : now thou dost ill , to say, the gallows
is built stronger than the church. Argal, the gallows
may do well to thee. To't again ; come.
 HAMLET. 71
2 G. D. Who builds stronger than a mason, a ship
wright, or a carpenter ?
I G. D. Aye, tell me that, and unyoke.
2 G. D. Marry, now I can tell.
1 G. D. To't.
2 G. D. Mass, I cannot tell.

Enter HAMLET and HORATIO, L.H.U.E.- (They cross

behind to R.H. )

1 G. D. Cudgel thy brains no more about it ; for

your dull ass will not mend his pace with beating :
and, when you are asked this question next, say, a
grave-maker ; the houses that he makes, last till
doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan, and fetch me a
stoup of liquor. [Exit Second Grave-Digger, L.H.

(The Grave-Digger digs and sings.)

In youth, when I did love, did love,

Methought it was very sweet,
To contract, Q, the time, for, ah, my behove,
O, methought, there was nothing meet.

Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his business ?

he sings at grave-making.
Hor. Custom hath made in him a property of
easiness.
Ham. 'Tis e'en so : the hand of little employment
hath the daintier sense.

(Grave-Digger sings.)

But age, with his stealing steps,

Hath claw'd me in his clutch,
And hath shipped me into the land,
As if I had never been such.
(Throws up a scull.)
72 HAMLET.

Ham. That scull had a tongue in it, and could sing

once. How the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it
were Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder ! This
might be the pate of a politician , which this ass now
o'er-reaches ; one that would circumvent Heaven,
might it not ? (The Grave-Digger throws up bones.)
Hor. It might, my lord.
Ham. Did these bones cost no more the breeding,
but to play at loggats with them ? Mine ache to
think on't.

(Grave-Digger sings.)
A pick-axe and a spade, a spade,
For- and a shrowding sheet :
O, a pit of clay for to be made
For such a guest is meet.
(Throws up another scull.)
Ham. There's another. Why may not that be the
scull of a lawyer ? Where be his quiddits now, his
quillets, his cases, his tenures, and his tricks ? Why,
does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about
the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of
his action of battery ? I will speak to this fellow.
Whose grave's this, sirrah ? (Advances, R.H. )
1 G. D. Mine, sir.

(Sings.) O, a pit of clay for to be made

For such a guest is meet.
Ham. I think it be thine, indeed ; for thou liest in
it.
1 G. D. You lie out on't, sir, and therefore, it is not
yours ; for my part, I do not lie in't, yet it is mine.
Ham. Thou dost lie in't, to be in't, and say it is
thine ; ' tis for the dead, not for the quick ; therefore
thou liest.
1 G. D. 'Tis a quick lie, sir ; 'twill away again from
me to you.
Ham. What man dost thou dig it for ?
 HAMLET. 73
1 G. D. For no man, sir.
Ham. What woman then ?
1 G. D. For none neither.
Ham. Who is to be buried in't ?
1 G. D. One that was a woman, sir ; but, rest her
soul ! she's dead.
Ham. How absolute the knave is ! we must speak
by the card or equivocation will undo us. How long
hast thou been a grave-maker ?
1 G. D. Of all the days i'the year, I came to't that
day that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras.
Ham. How long is that since ?
1 G. D. Cannot you tell that ? every fool can tell
that : it was that very day that young Hamlet was
born ; he that is mad, and sent into England ?
Ham. Aye, marry, why was he sent into England ?
1 G. D. Why, because he was mad . He shall reco
ver his wits there ; or, if he do not, ' tis no great mat
ter there .
Ham. Why?
1 G. D. "Iwill not be seen in him there ; there the
men are as mad as he .
Ham. How came he mad ?
1 G. D. Very strangely, they say.
Ham. How strangely ?
1 G. D. ' Faith, e'en with losing his wits.
Ham. Upon what ground ?.
1 G. D. Why, here in Denmark. I have been sexton
here, man and boy, thirty years.
Ham. How long will a man lie i'the earth ere he
rot?
1 G. D. ' Faith, if he be not rotten before he die, he
will last you some eight year, or nine year: a tanner
will last you nine year.
Ham. Why he more than another?
1 G. D. Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his trade,
that he will keep out water a great while ; and your
water is a sore decayer of your whoreson dead body,
Here's a scull now has lain you i'the earth three-and
twenty years.
E
74 HAMLET .
Ham. Whose was it ?
1 G. D. A whoreson mad fellow's it was. Whose
I
do you think it was ?
Ham. Nay, I know not.
1 G. D. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue ! He
pour'd a flaggon of Rhenish on my head once ! This
same scull, sir, was Yorick's scull, the king's jester.
Ham. This? (Taking the scull.)
1 G. D. E'en that.
Ham. Alas, poor Yorick ! -I knew him, Horatio ;
a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He 1
hath borne me on his back a thousand times. Here
hung those lips, that I have kiss'd I know not how oft.
Where be your gibes now ? your gambols ? your songs ?
your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the
table on a roar ? Not one now, to mock your own
grinning ? quite chap-fallen ? Now get you to my
lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch
thick, to this favour* she must come : make her laugh
·
at that.
Pr'ythee, Horatio , tell me one thing.
Hor. What's that, my lord ?
Ham. Dost thou think, that Alexander look'd o'
this fashion i' the earth ?
Hor. E'en so.
Ham. And smelt so ? pah !
Hor . E'en so, my lord.
Ham. To what base uses we may return , Horatio !
Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alex
ander, till he find it stopping a bung-hole ?
Hor. " Twere to consider too curiously, to consider
so.
Ham. No, ' faith, not a jot ; but to follow him
thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it :
As thus, Alexander died , Alexander was buried, Alex
ander returneth to dust ; the dust is earth ; of earth
we make loam : and why of that loam, whereto he was
converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel ?

Favour- complexion ; appearance.

 HAMLET. 75
Imperious Cæsar, dead and turn'd to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away:
Oh, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,
Should patch a wall, t' expell the winter's flaw!
(A bell tolls. )
But, soft ! but, soft ! aside ;-here comes the king,
The queen, the courtiers- Who is this they follow ?
And with such maim'd rites ! This doth betoken,
The corse they follow did, with desperate hand,
Fordo its own life . "Twas of some estate :
Couch we awhile, and mark.
(Retiring with Horatio, R.H.- Bell tolls .)

EnterKING, QUEEN, LAERTES, Lords, Ladies, Priests,

&c. through the Gates, attending the corpse of
OPHELIA, L.H.U.E.- (Bell tolls.)

Laer. What ceremony else ?

Ham. That is Laertes,
A very noble youth. (Aside to Hor.).
Priest. Her obsequies have been so far enlarg'd
As we have warranty. Her death was doubtful ;
And, but that great command o'ersways the order,.
She should in ground unsanctifi'd have lodg'd
Till the last trumpet ; for charitable prayers,
Shards, flints, and pebbles, should be thrown on her :"
Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants,*
Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home
Of bell and burial .†
Laer. Must there no more be done ?
Priest. No more be done !
We should profane the service of the dead,
To sing a requiem, and such rest to her
As to peace-parted souls.
Laer. Lay her i' the earth ;
And from her fair and unpolluted flesh

Crants- garlands.
Burial, here means interment in consecrated ground.
E2
76 HAMLET.

May violets spring !-I tell thee, churlish priest,

A minist'ring angel shall my sister be,
When thou liest howling.
Ham. What, the fair Ophelia !
Queen. Sweets to the sweet : farewell !
(Takes a basket from a Lady, and scatters flowers .)
I hop'd thou should'st have been my Hamlet's wife :
I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid,
And not have strew'd thy grave.
Laer. O, treble woe
Fall ten times treble on that cursed head,
Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense
Depriv'd thee of !-Hold off the earth awhile,
Till I have caught her once more in mine arms :
(Leaps into the grave. )
Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead,
To o'ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head
Of blue Olympus . [Exit Grave-Digger, L.A.U.E.
Ham. (Advancing. ) What is he whose grief
Bears such an emphasis ? Whose phrase of sorrow
Conjures the wand'ring stars, and makes them stand
Like wonder-wounded hearers ? This is I,
(Leaps into the grave.)
Hamlet the Dane.
Laer. The devil take thy soul ! ( Grappling with him .)
Ham. Thou pray'st not well .
I pr'ythee, take thy fingers from my throat ;
For, though I am not splenetive and rash,
Yet have I in me something dangerous,
Which let thy wisdom fear. Hold off thy hand !
King. Pluck them asunder.
(They are parted, and come out of the grave.)
Ham. Why, I will fight with him upon this theme,
Until my eyelids will no longer wag.
Queen. O, my son ! what theme?
Ham. I lov'd Ophelia ; forty thousand brothers
Could not, with all their quantity of love,
Make up my sum . What wilt thou do for her ?
Queen. O, he is mad, Laertes.
Ham. Come, show me, what thou'lt do :
 HAMLET. 77
Woul't weep ? woul't fight ? woul't fast ? woul't tear
thyself?
I'll do't. Dost thou come here but to whine ?
To outface me with leaping in her grave ?
Be buried quick with her, and so will I :
And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
Millions of acres on us ; till our ground,
Singeing his pate against the burning zone,
Make Ossa like a wart ! Nay, an thoul't mouth,
I'll rant as well as thou.
Queen. This is mere madness ;
And thus a while the fit will work on him ;
Anon, as patient as the female dove,
When that her golden couplets are disclos'd,*
His silence will sit drooping.
Ham. Hear you, sir ;
What is the reason that you use me thus ?.
I lov'd you ever : but it is no matter :
Let Hercules himself do what he may,
The cat will mew, and dog will have his day. [Exit, R.H..
King. I pray thee, good Horatio, wait upon him .
[ Exit Horatio, R.H.
Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech ;
(To Laertes:)

* Disclos'd-A great deal has been written on this word to little

purpose, according to the usual commenting upon Shakspeare. To .
disclose simply means to open something, and thus show that which
was concealed ; it neither has, nor can have, any other significa
tion. Hence it is by our old writers applied, and with great pro
priety, to the hatching of eggs ; or, the opening of the bud in
flowers. Many examples might be given, but our plan does not
allow such superfluity ; we must content ourselves with two only.
" One airy with proportion ne'er discloses
The eagle and the wren."
Maid of Honour, a. 1. s . 2.
" The canker galls the infants of the spring
Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd."
Hamlet, a. 1. s. 3.
This last example is from a part of " Hamlet," omitted in the
representation, and , therefore, of course, left out in this edition,
which follows the prompt-book literally, except when it adopts
readings, as is often the case, too grossly incorrect for admission .
E 3
78 HAMLET.
We'll put the matter to the present push.
Good Gertrude , set some watch over your son.
[Exit Queen and Ladies, R.H.
This grave shall have a living monument :
An hour of quiet thereby shall we see ;
Till then, in patience our proceeding be. (Bell tolls . )
[Exeunt through the gates.

SCENE II.- A Hall in the Palace.

Enter HAMLET and HORATIo, r.h.

Ham. But I am very sorry, good Horatio,

That to Laertes I forgot myself :
For, by the image of my cause, I see
The portraiture of his .
Hor. Peace, who comes here ?

Enter OSRICK, L.H.D.

Osr. Your lordship is right welcome back to Den

mark.
Ham. I humbly thank you, sir . Dost know this
water-fly ? (To Horatio.)
Hor. No, my good lord.
Ham. Thy state is the more gracious ; for ' tis a
vice to know him.
Osr. Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I
should impart a thing to you from his majesty.
Ham. I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of
spirit : Your bonnet to his right use ; ' tis for the
head.
Osr. I thank your lordship, ' tis very hot.
Ham. No, believe me, ' tis very cold ; the wind is
northerly.
Osr. It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed.
•
Ham. But yet methinks, it is very sultry and hot ;
or my complexion
Osr. Exceedingly, my lord ; it is very sultry,-as
'twere-I cannot tell how.-My lord his majesty bade
 HAMLET. 79
me signify to you, that he has laid a great wager on
your head ; sir, this is the matter—
Ham. I beseech you, remember
(Hamlet signs to him to put on his hat.)
Osr. Nay, good my lord ; for my ease, in good
faith .-sir, here is newly come to court, Laertes :
believe me an absolute gentleman, full of most ex
cellent differences, of very soft society, and great
showing indeed to speak feelingly of him , he is the
-card or calendar of gentry ; for you shall find in him
the continent of what part a gentleman would see.
Ham. What imports the nomination of this gentle
man ?
Osr. Of Laertes ?
Ham. Of him, sir.
Osr. You are not ignorant of what excellence
Laertes is
Ham. I dare not confess that, lest I should compare
with him in excellence ; but, to know a man well,
were to know himself.
Osr. I mean, sir, for his weapon.
Ham. What is his weapon?
Osr. Rapier and dagger.
Ham. That's two of his weapons :-But, well,
Osr. The king, sir, hath wager'd with him six Bar
bary horses against the which he has impawn'd, as I
take it, six French rapiers and poniards, with their
assigns, as girdle, hangers, and so : Three of the car
riages, in faith, are very dear to fancy, very responsive
to the hilts, most delicate carriages, and of very liberal
conceit.
Ham. What call you the carriages !
Osr. The carriages, sir, are the hangers.
Ham. The phrase would be more german to the
matter ;* if we could carry a cannon by our sides.
Osr. The king, sir, hath lay'd that in a dozen
passes between yourself and him, he shall not exceed

* German to the matter—a-kin, appropriate to the matter,

 80 HAMLET.
you three hits and it would come to immediate trial,
if your lordship would vouchsafe the answer.
Ham. How, if I answer, no ?
Osr. I mean, my lord, the opposition of your per
son in trial.
Ham. Sir, it is the breathing time of day with me ;
let the foils be brought ; the gentleman willing, and
the king hold his purpose, I will win for him, if I can :
if not, I will gain nothing but my shame, and the odd
hits.
Osr. Shall I deliver you so ?..
Ham. To this effect, sir ; after what flourish your
nature will.
Osr. I commend my duty to your lordship..
[ Exit Osrick, L.H.D.
Hor. You will lose this wager, my lord .
Ham. I do not think so ; since he went into
France, I have been in continual practice ; I shall win
at the odds. But thou would'st not think, how ill all's
here about my heart : but it is no matter..
Hor. Nay, good my lord,-.
Ham. It is but foolery : but it is such a kind of
gain-giving, as would, perhaps, trouble a woman.
Hor. If your mind dislike any thing, obey it : I will
forestall their repair hither, and say, you are not fit .
Ham. Not a whit, we defy augury ; there is a special
providence in the fall ofsparrow.
[Exeunt, L.H.D..

SCENE III.- The Court of Denmark.

(Flourish of Trumpets .)
KING, QUEEN, LAERTES, OSRICK , MARCELLUS,
BERNARDO, FRANCISCO, Lords, and Ladies discover'd..

Enter HAMLET and HORATIO, L.H.

King. Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand

from me. (Giving Ham. Laertes hand.)
Ham. Give me your pardon , sir : I have done you
wrong : (To Laertes.) }
 HAMLET. 81
But pardon it, as your are a gentleman.
Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd evil
Free me so far in your most generous thoughts,
That I have shot my arrow o'er the house,
And hurt my brother.
Laer. I am satisfied in nature,
Whose motive in this case , should stir me most
To my revenge :
I do receive your offer'd love like love,
And will not wrong it.
Ham. I embrace it freely ;
And will this brother's wager frankly play.
Give us the foils.
Laer. Come, one for me.
Ham. I'll be your foil, Laertes ; in mine ignorance
Your skill shall, like a star i' the darkest night,
Stick fiery off indeed.
Laer. You mock me, sir.
Ham. No, by this hand.
King. Give them the foils, young Osrick. - Cousin
Hamlet,
You know the wager ?
Ham. Very well, my lord ;
Your grace hath laid the odds o' the weaker side.
King. I do not fear it ; I have seen you both ;
But since he's better'd, we have therefore odds.
Laer. This is too heavy, let me see another.
Ham. This likes me well-these foils have all a
length ?
Osr. Aye, my good lord.
King. Set me the stoups of wine upon that table ;
If Hamlet give the first or second hit,
Or quit* in answer of the third exchange,
Let all the battlements their ordnance fire ;
The king shall drink to Hamlet's better breath ;
And in the cup an union† shall he throw,
Richer than that which four successive kings

Quit-i. e - requite.
† Union-one of the richest sort of pearls.- See Plin. Nat. His
82 HAMLET.
In Denmark's crown have worn- give me the cups, L
(To Francesco .)
And let the kettle to the trumpet speak
The trumpet to the cannoneer without
The cannons to the heavens-the heaven to earth
Now the king drinks to Hamlet. (He drinks . )
(Drums and Trumpets sound- Cannons shot
off within.)
Come, begin ;
And you, the judges, bear a wary eye.
Ham. Come on, sir.
Laer. Come, my lord. (They play. )
Ham. One.
Laer. No.
Ham . Judgment.
Osr. A hit, a very palpable hit.
Laer. Well- again
King. Stay, give me drink- Hamlet, this pearl
is thine ;
Here's to thy health. (He proceeds to drink.)
(Drums and Trumpets sound- Cannons shot
offwithin.)
Give him the cup.
Ham. I'll play this bout first, set it by awhile.
Come-(They play.)-another hit-What say you ?
Laer. A touch, a touch , I do confess .
King. Our son shall win.
Queen. The queen carouses to thy fortune, Ham -
let. (The Queen drinks, and returns the cup
to Francesco.)
Ham. Good madam
King, Gertrude, do not drink.—
Queen. I have, my lord-I pray you, pardon me.
King. It is the poison'd cup- it is too late.
(Aside.)
Laer. I'll hit him now ;
And yet it is almost against my conscience. (Aside.)
Ham. Come, for the third, Laertes-you do but
dally ;
I pray you, pass with your best violence ;
I am afeard you make a wanton of me.
 HAMLET. 83

Laer. Say you so ? come on .

(They play- Laertes wounds Hamlet ; then
in scuffling, they change rapiers.)
King. Part them, they are incens'd.
Ham. Nay, come again .
(Hamlet wounds Laertes, who fulls.
The Queen swoons.)
Osr. Look to the queen there, ho !
Hor. How is it, my lord ?
Osr. How is't, Laertes ?
Laer. Why, as a woodcock to my own springe,
Osrick ;
I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery.
Ham. How does the queen ?
King. She swoons to see them bleed.
Queen: No, no, the drink, the drink- Oh, my dear
Hamlet !
The drink, the drink-I am poison'd- (She dies. )
Ham. Oh, villainy !-Ho ! let the door be lock'd ;
Treachery ! seek it out.
Luer. It is here, Hamlet- Hamlet, thou art slain ;
No medicine in the world can do thee good,
In thee there is not half an hour's life ;
The treacherous instrument is in thy hand,
Unbated,* and envom'd ; the foul practice
Hath turn'd itself on me ; lo, here 1 lie,
Never to rise again ; thy mother's poison'd ;
I can no more ;t-the king, the king's to blame.
Ham. The point
Envenom'd too ! Then venom to thy work.
(Stabs the King. )
Here, thou incestuous , murd'rous , damned Dane,
Follow my mother. (King dies.)
Laer. He is justly serv'd.
Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet :
Mine and my father's death come not upon thee :
Nor thine on me ! (He dies.)

* Unbated- i. e.-not blunted ·

+ I can see no more-The verb can (konnen, German) is here used
in its original sense- to be able- not as an auxiliary.
 84 HAMLET.
Ham. Heaven make thee free of it ! I follow thee.
You that look pale and tremble at this chance,
That are but mutes and audience to this act,
Had I but time, as this fell serjeant, death,
Is strict in his arrest, Oh ! I could tell you
But let it be-Horatio,
Report me and my cause aright
To the unsatisfied.
Hor. Never believe it ;
I am more an antique Roman than a Dane
Here's yet some liquor left.
Ham. As thou'rt a man
Give me the cup-let go- by heaven, I'll have it.
Oh, good Horatio, what a wounded name ;
Things sanding thus unknown shall live behind ine !
# If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,
Absent thee from felicity awhile,
And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,
To tell my story.
Oh ! I die, Horatio !
The potent poison quite o'ercrows* my spirit
The rest is silence , (Hamlet dies.)

Disposition ofthe Characters when the Curtain falls.

FR

QUEE
AN

G N,
KS IN .
HO

CE

T E HAMLET
RA

SC

ER
TI
CK

O.

L A .
O
.
RI
OS

Finis.

11
R.H. CURTAIN. L.H.

* O'ercrows— i, e.—overthrows.
 Orberry's Edition.

RICHARD THE THIRD ,

A TRAGEDY;

BY

W. Shakspeare.

ADAPTED TO THE STAGE BY COLLEY CIBBER.

THE ONLY EDITION EXISTING WHICH IS FAITHFULLY MARKED WITH

THE STAGE BUSINESS AND STAGE DIRECTIONS,

AS IT IS PERFORMED AT THE

Theatres Royal.

LONDON :

PUBLISHED FOR THE PROPRIETORS, BY W. SIMPKIN AND

R. MARSHALL, STATIONERS' COURT, LUDGATE- STREET ;
C. CHAPPLE, 66, PALL- MALL ; AND SOLD BY W. AND
J. LOWNDES, 9, BRYDGES - STREET, COVENT- GARDEN.

1818.
W. OXBERRY AND CO. PRINTERS,
8, WHITE-HART-YARD.
¡, ⠀

Kemarks.

" KING Richard the Third" is among the most popular of Shak
speare's tragedies, though far inferior to many other efforts, of the
same mighty master. The reason of this preference is perhaps to
be sought in the common passions which it exhibits , and the obvious
means by which those passions are made successful. Ambition, or
in other words, the desire of acquiring something more than is
allotted to us, is a passion proper to all men ; no matter how high
or low the object, the affection is the same. Here then is the
point of contact between Richard and his audience, and the
means that he employs add strongly to the impression ; they are
indeed dexterous and daring in the highest degree, but we see
them only in their effects ; the preparation for his gigantic pro
jects, which must, from its nature, be too subtle for common appre
hensions, is kept out of sight ; we are hurried from one grand effect
to another, without pause, without argument ; and as the dullest ·
souls can admire great consequences, though few can appreciate
the means , we follow Richard with undivided attention . When at
last his crimes have multiplied beyond the bounds of endurance,
and disgust is beginning to arise, the poet opens a new source of
pleasure in his death.
The characters of Lady Anne and Buckingham, though obscured
by the splendid iniquity of Richard, are drawn with wonderful ac
curacy and power. The first, more particularly, is seldom con
sidered as such a creation should be considered ; her very failings
endear her to us : weak, but not vicious ; changeful , but not defi
cient in affection, she is, of all objects, the most calculated for
tragic pathos ; her miserable fate is the natural consequence of her
errors, but those errors are so skilfully touched , that they only add
to our conva Beling'an jemly ligh mand selish,
 iv
is the portrait of half mankind ; with all the lesser vices of life he is
familiar ; he goes on quickly through a course of iniquity undis
turbed ; no feeling of gratitude, or honour, or pity, stops him, till
in the end, murder, the last link in the chain, stares him in the
face, and even his selfishness is aroused ; but even here, he acts
from impulse, and not from any exertion of the understanding ; his
vices and virtues are the effect of habit.
Of Cibber's alteration it is scarcely necessary to say much ; he has
improved the play, but he has destroyed the poem. Shakspeare
had originally conducted the plot with sufficient abruptness, but
this is tenfold increased under the hands of Cibber ; still he
deserves no little credit, and if the soliloquy on conscience be really
his production, and of this there seems no rational cause for doubt,
Pope's snarling criticism, in the Dunciad, reflects disgrace upon
himself and not his victim ; but Pope was an ungenerous enemy and
a worse friend : on the one he would trample when fallen, and the
other he would deceive when trusting.
1
 Costume.

GLOSTER.- 1st dress. Scarlet doublet, trunks, hose, hat , cloak,

and russet boots. 2nd dress.-Black ditto, ditto, trimmed with
gold, crimson velvet robe, white hose, shoes, and plush hat. 3rd
dress.-Armour body, and hat.
KING HENRY.- Black velvet doublet trunks, hose, and cloak.
PRINCE OF WALES. ...... Ib.
DUKE OF YORK. Ib.
BUCKINGHAM. ...... Ib. richly embroidered.
RICHMOND.- Buff pantaloons, russet boots, armourbody, scar
let mantle, and black hat.
NORFOLK.- Blue doublet, trunks, cloak, and russet boots.
LORD STANLEY.-Black doublet, trunks, and cloak embroi
dered with gold.
CATESBY.- Brown ...... Ib.
RATCLIFF.- Light blue Ib.
OXFORD. 18.
LIEUTENANT.- Buff ...... Ib.
TRESSEL.- Green Ib.
LORD MAYOR.- Buff ditto, ditto, Scarlet gown ditto.
QUEEN.-White satin dress, trimmed with point lace and beads,
point lace and muslin drapery. 2nd dress- Black velvet trimmed
with black crape ; black crape veil, trimmed with bugles.
LADY ANNE.- Black velvet dress, trimmed with bugles, black
crape veil, trimmed with bugles.

DUCHESS OF YORK.-Black velvet dress, and black crape veil.

 PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Drury-Lane. Covent- Garden.

King Henry Sixth .... Mr. Pope. Mr. Egerton.
Prince ofWales ...... Miss C. Garr. Master Chapman.
Duke ofYork .... Miss G. Carr. Miss Pincott.
Richard Duke of Gloster Mr. Kean . Mr. Kemble.
Duke ofBuckingham .. Mr. Holland. Mr. Barrymore.
Duke ofNorfolk Mr. Marshall. Mr. Chapman .
Richmond Mr. Rae. Mr. Conway.
Lord Stanley Mr. Powell. Mr. Murray.
Catesby Mr. Cooke. Mr. Claremont
Ratcliff .. Mr. Kent. Mr. Treby .
Oxford Mr. Coveney. Mr.Menage
Blunt Mr. Ebsworth. Mr King.
Lieutenant of Tower Mr. R. Phillips Mr. Creswell.
Tressel · Mr. Wallaek.
Lord Mayor Mr. Carr. Mr. Brookes .
Tirrel Mr. Miller. Mr Norris.
Forest .. Mr. Jameson.
Dighton Mr. Evans. Mr. Louis.
Officer Mr. Buxton. Mr. Howell.
Two Aldermen
Queen ... Mrs. Glover. Mrs. Faucit.
Lady Anne Miss Boyce. Miss S. Booth.
Duchess of York .... Mrs. Brereton . Miss Logan.

The time this piece takes in representation is three hours and

fourteen minutes. The first act occupies the space of forty
minutes-the second, thirty-nine,-the third, thirty- five- the
fourth, forty-two- the fifth, thirty-eight. The half price com
mences, generally, at a quarter after nine o'clock.

Stage Directions.
By R. H....... is meant..... Right Hand.
L. H.... ………. Left Hand.
S. E....... Second Entrance. A
U. E.... .. Upper Entrance.
M. D.. Middle Door.
D. F.. Door in Fut.
.. Ti 2 1 Door .
212.11 vai.
 KING RICHARD III.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-A Garden in the Tower.

Enter LIBUTENANT and OFFICER, R.H.

Lieut. HAS King Henry walk'd forth this morn

ing ?
Off. No, sir ; but it is near his hour.
Lieut. At any time when you see him here,
Let no stranger into the garden ;
I would not have him star'd at. ( Officer crosses behind
to L.H. ) See, who's that,
Now ent'ring at the gate ? (Knocking within, L.H.)
Off. Sir, the Lord Stanley.
Lieut. Leave me.— [Exit, Off. L...

Enter LORD STANLEY, L.H.

My noble lord, you're welcome to the Tower :

I heard last night you late arrived with news
Of Edward's victory, to his joyful queen.
Stan. Yes, sir, and I am proud to be the man
That first brought home the last of civil broils ;
The houses now of York and Lancaster,
Like bloody brothers fighting for a birth-right,
No more shall wound the parent that would part 'em
Edward now sits secure on England's throne.
Lieut. Near Tewksbury, my lord, I think they
fought :
2 RICHARD III.
Has the enemy lost any men of note ?
Stan. Sir, I was posted home,
Ere an account was taken of the slain ;
But as I left the field, a proclamation
From the king was made in search of Edward,
Son to your prisoner, king Henry the Sixth,
Which gave reward to those discov'ring him,
And him his life if he'd surrender.
Lieut. That brave young prince, I fear, ' s unlike his
father,
Too high of heart to brook submissive life :
This will be heavy news to Henry's ear,
For on this battle's cast his all was set.
Stan. King Henry and ill-fortune are familiar ;
He ever threw with an indifferent hand,
But never yet was known to lose his patience :
How does he pass the time, in his confinement ?
Lieut. As one whose wishes never reach'd a crown ;
The king seems dead in him-but, as a man,
He sighs sometimes in want of liberty.
Sometimes he reads , and walks, and wishes
That fate had bless'd him with an humbler birth,
Not to have felt the falling from a throne.
Stan. Were it not possible to see this king ?
They say he'll freely talk with Edward's friends,
And even treats them with respect and honour.
Lieut. This is his usual time of walking forth,
(For he's allowed the freedom of the garden)
After his morning prayer ; he seldom fails :
Behind this harbour we unseen may stand
Awhile to observe him. (They retire, L.H.)

Enter King HENRY, R.H.

King H. By this time the decisive blow is struck,

Either my queen and son are bless'd with victory,
Or I'm the cause no more of civil broils .
Would I were dead, if heav'n's good- will were so,
For what is in this world but grief and care ?
What noise and bustle do kings make to find it ;
 RICHARD III.
3
When life's but a short chace, our game content,
Which most pursu'd is most compell'd to fly ;
And he that mounts him on the swiftest hope,
Shall often run his courser to a stand :
While the poor peasant from some distant hill,
Undanger'd, and at ease, views all the sport,
And sees content take shelter in his cottage.
Stan. He seems extremely moved.
Lieut. Does he know
you ?
Stan. No, nor would I have him.
Lieut. We'll shew our selves.

(They come forward, L.H.)

King H. Why, there's another check to proud
ambition :
That man received his charge from me, and now
I am his prisoner-he locks me to my rest.
Such an unlook'd for change who could suppose,
That saw him kneel to kiss the hand that rais'd him ;
But that I should not now complain of,
Since I to that, ' tis possible , may owe
His civil treatment of me.-' Morrow, Lieutenant :
Is any news arriv'd- Who's that with you ?
Lieut. A gentleman that came last night express
From Tewksbury.- We've had a battle.
King H. Comes he to me with letters, or advice ?
Lieut. Sir, he's king Edward's officer, your foe.
King H. Then he wont flatter me-- You're wel
come, sir ; (Lieutenant retires a little, L.H.)
Not less because you are king Edward's friend,
For I have almost learn'd myself to be so ;
Could I but once forget I was a king,
I might be truly happy, and his subject.
You've gained a battle ; is't not so ?
Stan. We have, sir, -how, will reach your ear too
soon.
King H. If to my loss, it can't too soon- pray
speak,
For fear makes mischief greater than it is.
My queen ! my son ! say, sir, are they living ?
B2
 RICHARD III.
Stan. Since my arrival, sir, another post
Came in, and brought us word your queen and son
Were prisoners now at Tewksbury.
King H. Heaven's will be done ! the hunters have
'em now,
And I have only sighs and prayers to help ' em.
Stan. King Edward, sir, depends upon his sword ;
Yet prays heartily when the battle's won ;
And soldiers love a bold and active leader.
Fortune, ' like women, will be close pursued ;
The English are high mettled, sir, and ' tis
No easy part to fit ' em well- King Edward
Feels their temper, and ' twill be hard to throw him.
King H. Alas ! I thought them men, and rather
hop'd
To win their hearts by mildness than severity.
My soul was never formed for cruelty :
In my eyes justice has seem'd bloody ;
When on the city gates I have beheld
A traitor's quarters parching in the sun,
My blood has turn'd with horror at the sight ;
I took ' em down, and buried with his limbs
The memory of the dead man's deeds- Perhaps
That pity made me look less terrible,
Giving the mind of weak rebellion spirit ;
For kings are put in trust for all mankind,
And when themselves take injuries, who is safe ?
If so, I have deserv'd these frowns of fortune.

Enter Officer, L.H.

Off. Sir, here's a gentleman brings a warrant

For his access to king Henry's presence.
Lieut. I come to him. [ Exit Officer, L.H.
Stan. His business may require your privacy ;
I'll leave you, sir, wishing you all the good
That can be wish'd- not wronging him I serve.
King H. Farewell ! [Exeunt Stan, and Lieut. L.M.
Who can this be ?-a sudden coldness,
 RICHARD III. 5.
Like the damp hand of death, has seized my limbs :
I fear some heavy news !

Enter Lieutenant, L.H..

Who is it, good Lieutenant ?

Lieut. A gentleman, sir, from Tewksbury : he
seems
A melancholy messenger-for when I ask'd
What news, his answer was a deep- fetch'd sigh ;
I would not urge him, but I fear ' tis fatal. [Exit, L.H..
King H. Fatal indeed ! his brow's the title page,.
That speaks the nature of a tragic volume.--

Enter TRESSEL, L.H :

Say, friend, how does my queen ? my son ?

Thou tremblest, and the whiteness of thy cheek:
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
Ev'n such a man, so faint, so spiritless,
So dull, so dead in look, so woe begone,
Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night ;
And would have told him half his Troy was burn'd :
But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue,
And I my poor son's death ere thou relat'st it.
Now wouldst thou say your son did thus and thus,
And thus your queen ; so fought the valiant Oxford ;
Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds ;
But, in the end, (to stop my ear indeed,)
Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise,
Ending with-queen and son, and all are dead.
Tres. Your queen yet lives, and many of your
friends :
But for my lord your son
King H. Why, he is dead ! -yet speak, I charge
thee!
Tell thou thy master his suspicion lies,
And I will take it as a kind disgrace,
And thank thee well, for doing me such wrong.
B3
6 RICHARD III.
Tres. Would it were wrong to say; but, sir, your
fears are true.
King H. Yet, for all this, say not my son is dead.
Tres. Sir, I am sorry I must force you to
Believe, what would to heav'n I had not seen :
But in this last battle near Tewksbury,
Your son, whose active spirit lent a fire
Ev'n to the dullest peasant in our camp,
Still made his way where danger stood to oppose him.
A braver youth, of more courageous heat,
Ne'er spurr'd his courser at the trumpet's sound.
But who can rule the uncertain chance of war ?
In fine, king Edward won the bloody field,
Where both your queen and son were made his
prisoners.
King H. Yet hold : for oh ! this prologue lets
me in
To a most fatal tragedy to come.
Died he a prisoner say'st thou ? how ? by grief ?
Or by the bloody hands of those that caught him ?
Tres. After the fight, Edward in triumph ask'd
To see the captive prince-the prince was brought,
Whom Edward roughly chid for bearing arms ;
Asking what reparation he could make
For having stirr'd his subjects to rebellion ?
Your son, impatient of such taunts, reply'd,
Bow like a subject, proud ambitious York,
While I , now speaking with my father's mouth,
Propose the self-same rebel words to thee,
Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to :
From these, more words arose, till in the end
King Edward swell'd with what the unhappy prince
At such a time too freely spoke, his gauntlet
In his young face with indignation struck ;
At which crook'd Richard, Clarence, and the rest,
Buried their fatal daggers in his heart.
In bloody state I saw him on the earth,
From whence with life he never more sprung up.
King H. Oh! hadst thou stabb'd at every word's
deliverance
Sharp poignards in my flesh, while this was told,
 RICHARD III. 7
Thy wounds had given less anguish than thy words .
Oh heav'n ! methinks I see my tender lamb
Gasping beneath the rav'nous wolves ' fell gripe !
But say, did all-did they all strike him, say'st thou ?
Tres. All, sir ; but the first wound duke Richard
gave.
King H. There let him stop ; be that his last of
ills !
Oh barbarous act ! unhospitable men !
Against the rigid laws of arms, to kill him !
Was❜t not enough his hope of birth-right gone,
But must your hate be levell'd at his life ?
Nor could his father's wrongs content you ;
Nor could a father's grief dissuade the deed ?
You have no children ! -butchers, if you had,
The thought of them would sure have stirr'd remorse.
Tres. Take comfort, sir, and hope a better day.
King H. Oh ! who can hold a fire in his hand,
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ?
Or wallow naked in December's snow,
By bare remembrance of the summer's heat ?
Away-by heaven I shall abhor his sight,
Whoever bids me be of comfort more !
If thou wilt sooth my sorrows, then I'll thank thee ;
Ay, now thou'rt kind indeed ! these tears oblige me.
Tres. Alas ! my lord, I fear more evils towards
you.
King H. Why, let it come, I scarce shall feel it
now,
My present woes have beat me to the ground ;
And my hard fate can make me fall no lower.
What can it be ?-give it its ugliest shape
Oh my poor boy !
Tres. A word does that, it comes in Gloster's
form .
King H. Frightful indeed ! give me the worst that
threatens.
Tres. After the murder of your son, stern Richard,
As if unsated with the wounds he had given,
With unwash'd hands went from his friends in haste ;
B4
S RICHARD III.

And being asked by Clarence of the cause,

He, low'ring cried, brother, I must to the Tower ;
I've business there ; excuse me to the king :
Before you reach the town, expect some news :
This said he vanish'd- and I hear's arrived.
King H. Why then the period of my woes is set !
For ills but thought by him are half perform'd.

Enter Lieutenant, with an Order, L.H.

Lieut. Forgive me, sir, what Im compell'd t' obey:

An order for your close confinement.
King H. Whence comes it, good Lieutenant ?
Lieut. Sir, from the duke of Gloster.
King H. Good night to all then ; I obey it.
(Lieut. retires a little, R.H.)
And now, good friend, suppose me on my death-bed,
And take of me thy last, short-living leave.
Nay, keep thy tears till thou hast seen me dead ;
And when in tedious winter nights, with good
Old folks thou sitt'st up late
To hear ' em tell the dismal tales
Of times long past, ev'n now with woe remember'd,
Before thou bid'st good night, to quit their grief,
Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,
And send thy hearers weeping to their beds.
[Exeunt King Henry, R.H. Tressel, L.H.

SCENE II.- The Court Yard of the Tower.

Enter GLOSTER, L.A.

Glos. Now is the winter of our discontent

Made glorious summer by the sun of York ;
And all the clouds that lower'd upon our house,
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths,
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments ;
Our stern alarums are chang'd to merry meetings ;
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures :
 RICHARD III. 9:
Grim -visag'd war has smooth'd his wrinkled front ;
And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds,
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber,
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute :
But I, that am not shap'd for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass,
I, that am rudely stamp'd and want love's majesty,
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph ;
I, that am curtail'd of man's fair proportion ,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable,
That dogs bark at me, as I halt by ' em ;
Why I, in this weak piping time of peace,
1 Have no delight to pass away my hours,
Unless to see my shadow in the sun,
And descant on my own deformity
Then, since this earth affords no joy to me,
But to command, to check, and o'erbear such
As are of happier person than myself ;
Why then to me this restless world's but hell,
Till this mis-shapen trunk's aspiring head
Be circled in a glorious diadem
But then ' tis fixed on such a height ; oh ! I
Must stretch the utmost reaching of my soul..
I'll climb betimes, without remorse or dread,
And my first step shall be on Henry's head.
[ Exit, R.H.

SCENE III - A Chamber in the Tower.- KING

HENRY discovered sleeping.

Enter Lieutenant, R.H.D.`.

Lieut. Asleep so soon, but sorrow minds no sea

sons,
The morning, noon, and night, with her's the same ;,
She's fond of any hour that yields repose.
B5
10 RICHARD III.

King H. Who's there ! Lieutenant ! is it you ?

Come hither !
Lieut. You shake, my lord, and look affrighted.
King H. Oh ! I have had the fearfull'st dream !
such sights,
That, as I live,
I would not pass another hour so dreadful,
Though ' twere to buy a world of happy days.
Reach me a book- I'll try if reading can
Divert these melancholy thoughts.
(Lieut. gives him a book which he takes from
the table.)

Enter GLOSTER, R.H.D.

Glos. Good day, my lord ; what at your book so

hard ?
I disturb you. ( Lieut . advances to R.H.D.)
King H. You do indeed.
Glos. Friend, leave us to ourselves, we must confer.
King H. What bloody scene has Roscius now to
act ? [ Exit Lieut. R.H.D.
Glos. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind :
The thief does fear each bush an officer.
King H. Where thieves without controlment rob
and kill,
The traveller does fear each bush a thief :
The poor bird that has been already lim'd,
With trembling wings misdoubts of every bush :
And I, the hapless mate of one sweet bird,
Have now the fatal object in my eye,
By whom my young one bled, was caught, and kill'd.
Glos. Why what a peevish fool was that of Crete,
That taught his son the office of a fowl !
And yet for all his wings, the fool was drown'd :
Thou should'st have taught thy boy his prayers alone,
And then he had not broke his neck with climbing.
King H. Ah ! kill me with thy weapon, not thy
words ;
My breast can better brook thy dagger's point,
Than can my ears that piercing story ;
 RICHARD III. 11 .
But wherefore dost thou come? is't for my life ?
Glos. Think'st thou I am an executioner ?
King H. If murdering innocents be executing,
Then thou'rt the worst of executioners.
Glos. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption .
King H. Hadst thou been kill'd when first thou
didst presume,
Thou hadst not lived to kill a son of mine :
But thou wert born to massacre mankind.
How many old mens' sighs, and widows ' moans ;
How many orphans' water-standing eyes ;
Men for their sons, wives for their husbands' fate,
And children for their parents' timeless death,
Will rue the hour that ever thou wert born !
The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign !
The night-crow cry'd, foreboding luckless times ;
Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down trees ;
The raven rook'd her on the chimney top,
And chattering pies in dismal discord sung ;
Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain,
And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope.
Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wert born,
Which plainly said, thou cam'st to bite mankind ;
And if the rest be true which I have heard,
Thou cam'st
Glos. I'll hear no more- Die, prophet, in thy
speech;
For this, among the rest, was I ordain'd. ( Stabs him.)
King H. Oh ! and for much more slaughter after
this ;
Just heav'n forgive my sins, and pardon thee ! (Dies .)
Glos. What ! will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
Sink in the ground ?—I thought it would have
mounted.
See how my sword weeps for the poor king's death.
Oh, may such purple tears be always shed,
From those that wish the downfal of our house !
If any spark of life be yet remaining,
Down, down to hell, and say I sent thee thither ;
I that have neither pity, love, nor fear.
B6
 1-2 RICHARD III.
Indeed, ' tis true what Henry told me of;
For I have often heard my mother say,
I came into the world with my legs forward ;
The midwife wonder'd, and the women cry'd,
Good heaven bless us ! he is born with teeth !
And so I was, which plainly signified ,
That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog.
Then since the heav'ns have shap'd my body so,
Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it !
I have no brother, am like no brother,
And this word love, which grey-beards call divine,
Be resident in men like one another,
And not in me-I am-myself alone.
Clarence, beware, thou keep'st me from the light ;
But if I fail not in my deep intent,
Thou'st not another day to live ; which done,
Heav'n take the weak king Edward to his mercy,
And leave the world for me to bustle in .
But soft- I'm sharing spoil, before the field is won .
Clarence still breathes, Edward still lives and reigns,
When they are gone, then I must count my gains.
[ Exit, R.H.D.

END OF ACT I.

ACT II.

SCENE 1.-St. Paul's.

Enter TRESSEL, L.H. meeting Lord Stanley,

R.H. U.E.

Tres. My lord, your servant ; pray what brought you

to St. Paul's ?
Stan. I came among the crowd, to see the corpse
Of poor king Henry : ' tis a dismal sight .
But yesterday I saw him in the Tower ;
 RICHARD III. 13 .
His talk is still so fresh within my memory,
That I could weep to think how fate has used him.
I wonder where's duke Richard's policy,
In suffering him to lie expos'd to view ;
Can he believe that men will love him for't?
Tres. O yes, sir, love him as he loves his brothers..
When was you with king Edward, pray, my lord?
I hear he leaves his food, is melancholy ;
And his physicians fear him mightily..
Stan. "Tis thought he'll scarce recover.
Shall we to court, and hear more news of him.
(Crosses to L.H.);
Tres. I am obliged to pay attendance here:
The lady Anne has license to remove
King Henry's corpse to be interred at Chertseys
And I'm engag'd to follow her.
" Stan. Mean you king Henry's daughter- in- law?
Tres. The same, sir ; widow to the late prince
Edward,
Whom Gloster killed at Tewksbury.
Stan. Alas ! poor lady, she's severely used ;
And yet, I hear, Richard attempts her love :
Methinks the wrongs he's done her might discourage
him.
Tres. Neither those wrongs, nor his own shape,
can fright him :
He sent for leave to visit her this morning,
And she was forc'd to keep her bed to avoid him :
But see, she is arriv'd-will you along..
To see this doleful ceremony ?
Stan. I'll wait upon you.. [ Exeunt, R.H. U.E.

Enter GLOSTER, L.H.

· Glos. 'Twas her excuse to avoid me. Alas!
She keeps no bed :
She has health enough to progress far as Chertsey,
Though not to bear the sight of me...
I cannot blame her Ş
Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb ;
14 RICHARD III .
And, for I should not deal in his soft laws,
He did corrupt frail nature with a bribe,
To shrink my arm up like a wither'd shrub,
To make an envious mountain on my back,
Where sits deformity to mock my body;
To shape my legs of an unequal size,
To disproportion me in every part.
And am I then a man to be belov'd ?
Oh monstrous thought ! more vain than my ambition.

Enter Lieutenant, hastily, L.H.

Lieut . My lord, I beg your grace

Glos. Be gone, fellow ! I'm not at leisure.
Lieut. My lord, the king your brother 's taken ill.
Glos. I'll wait on him : leave me, friend.
[Exit Lieut. L.H.
Ha! Edward taken ill !
Would he were wasted, marrow, bones, and all,
That from his loins no more young brat's may rise,
To cross me in the golden time I look for.

Enter LADY ANNE, in mourning, LORD STANLEY,

TRESSEL, Guards and Bearers, with King Henry's
Body, R.H. U.E.
But see, my love appears !-Look where she shines,
Darting pale lustre, like the silver moon,
Through her dark veil of rainy sorrow !
So mourn'd the dame of Ephesus her love ;
And thus the soldier, arm'd with resolution,
Told his soft tale, and was a thriving wooer.
'Tis true, my form perhaps may little move her,
But I've a tongue shall wheedle with the devil :
Yet hold, she mourns the man that I have kill'd.
First let her sorrows take some vent :-stand here ;
I'll take her passion in its wane, and turn
This storm of grief to gentle drops of pity,
For his repentant murderer. (Retires, R.H. U.E. )
 RICHARD III. 15

Lady A. (Advancing to the centre of the stage.)

Hung be the heavens with black ; yield day to night ;
Comets importing change of times and states,
Brandish your fiery tresses in the sky,
And with them scourge the bad revolting stars,
That have consented to king Henry's death.
Oh ! be accurst the hand that shed his blood,
Accurst the head that had the heart to do it ;
If ever he have wife , let her be made
More miserable by the life of him ,
Than I am now.7. by Edward's death and thine.
Glos. Poor girl, what pains she takes to curse her
self! (Aside.)
Lady A. If ever he have child, abortive be it,
Prodigious, and untimely brought to light ;
Whose hideous form, whose most unnatural aspect,
May fright the hopeful mother at her view,
And that be heir to his unhappiness !
Now on to Chertsey, with your sacred load.
Glos. Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down.
Lady A. What black magician conjures up this
fiend,
To stop devoted charitable deeds ?
Glos. Villains, set down the corse, or by St. Paul,
I'll make a corse of him that disobeys.
Guard. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass.
Glos. Unmannered slave ! stand thou when I com
mand.
Advance thy halbert higher than my breast,
+ Or, by St. Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot,
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.
Lady A. Why dost thou haunt him thus, unsated
fiend ?
Thou hast but power over his mortal body ;
His soul thou canst not reach, therefore be gone.
Glos. Sweet saint, be, not so hard, for charity.
Lady A. If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
Behold this pattern of thy butcheries.
Why didst thou do this deed ? Could not the laws
Of man, of nature, nor of heav'n dissuade thee ?
16 RICHARD 111.
No beast so fierce, but knows some touch of pity,
Glos. If want of pity be a crime so hateful ,
Whence is it thou, fair excellence, art guilty ?
Lady A. What means the slanderer ?
Glos. Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,
Of these my crimes suppos'd, to give me leave
By circumstance but to acquit myself.
Lady A. Then take that sword, whose bloody point
still reeks
With Henry's life, with my lov'd lord's, young Ed
ward's ,
And here let out thy own, to appease their ghosts.
Glos. By such despair I should accuse myself.
Lady A. Why by despairing only canst thou stand….
excus'd !
Didst thou not kill this king?
Glos. I grant ye.
Lady A. Oh he was gentle, loving, mild, and vir
tuous ;
But he's in heaven, where thou canst never come.
Glos. Was I not kind to send him thither, then?
He was much fitter for that place than earth.
Lady A. And thou unfit for any place, but hell.
Glos. Yes, one place elseif you will hear me
name it.
Lady A. Some dungeon ..
Glos. Your bed- chamber.
Lady A. Il rest betide the chamber where thou
liest.
Glos. So it will, madam, till I lie in your's.
Lady A. I hope so.
Glos. I know so. But, gentle lady Anne,
To leave this keen encounter of our tongues,
And fall to something of more serious method ; :
Is not the causer of the untimely deaths
Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward, t
As blameful as the executioner ?
Lady A. Thou wert the cause, and most accurst
effect.
Glos. Your beauty was the cause of that effect,
 RICHARD II. 17
Your beauty-that did haunt me in my sleep
To undertake the death of all the world,"
So I might live one hour in that soft bosom !
Lady A. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,
These hands should rend that beauty from my cheeks.
Glos. These eyes could not endure that beauty's
wreck ;
You should not blemish it, if I stood by :
As all the world is nourish'd by the sun,
So I by that it is my day, my life !
Lady A. I would it were, to be reveng'd on thee.
Glos. It is a quarrel most unnatural,
To wish revenge on him that loves thee.
Lady A. Say, rather, ' tis my duty,
To seek revenge on him that kill'd my husband.
Glos. Fair creature, he that kill'd thy husband
Did it to help thee to a better husband.
Lady A. His better does not breathe upon the
earth .
Glos. He lives that loves thee better than he could.
Lady A. Name him.
Glos. Plantagenet.
Lady A. Why that was be.
Glos. The self-same name, but one of softer nature.
Lady A. Where is he?
Glos. Ah, take more pity in thy eyes, and see him
-here !
Lady A. Would they were basilisks to strike thee
dead. (Crosses to R.H.)
Glos. I would they were, that I might die at once,
For now they kill me with a living death ;
Darting, with cruel aim, despair and love !
I never sued to friend or enemy :
My tongue could never learn soft , smoothing words ;
But now thy beauty is propos'd my fee,
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak..
Lady A. Is there a tongue on earth can speak for
thee ?
Why dost thou court my hate ?
Glos, Oh teach not thy soft lip such cold contempt.
18 RICHARD III.
If thy relentless heart cannot forgive,
Lo here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword,
Which, if thou please to hide in this true breast,
And let the honest soul out that adores thee ;
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,
And humbly beg that death upon my knee.
Lady A. What shall I say or do ! Direct me,
heaven ! (Aside.)
Glos. Nay, do not pause, for I did kill king Henry !
But ' twas thy wondrous beauty did provoke me :
Or now dispatch-' twas I that stabb'd young Edward ;
Bnt ' twas thy heavenly face that set me on !
And I might still persist (so stubborn is
My temper) to rejoice at what I've done ;
But that thy powerful eyes (as roaring seas
Obey the changes of the moon) have turn'd
My heart, and made it flow with penitence.
(She drops the sword.)
Take up the sword again, or take up me.
"
Lady A. No, though I wish thy death,
I will not be thy executioner.
Glos. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.
Lady A. I have already.
Glos. That was in thy rage ;
Say it again, and even with thy word
This guilty hand, that robb'd thee of thy love,
Shall, for thy love, revenge thee on thy lover :
To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary.
Tres. By heaven, she wants the heart to bid him
do't !
Stan. What think you now, sir ?
Tres. I'm struck ! I scarce can credit what I see.
Stan. Why? you see a woman !
Glos. What, not a word, to pardon or condemn me ?
But thou art wise-and canst with silence kill me ;
Yet even in death my fleeting soul pursues thee :
Dash not the tears of penitence away !
Lady A. Wouldst thou not blame me to forgive thy
crimes ?
Glos. They are not to be forgiven ; no, not even
 RICHARD III. 19
Penitence can atone ' em !-Oh misery
Of thought- that strikes me with at once repentance
And despair !-Though unpardon'd, yield me pity !
Lady A. Would I knew thy heart !
Glos. 'Tis figur'd in my tongue .
Lady A. I fear me, both are false .
Glos. Then never man was true !
Lady A. Put up thy sword.
Glos. Say, then, my peace is made.
Lady A. That shalt thou know hereafter.
Glos. But shall I live in hope ?
Lady A. All men , I hope, live so .
Glos. I swear, bright saint, I am not what I was.
Those eyes have turn'd my stubborn heart to woman ;
Thy goodness makes me soft in penitence,
And my harsh thoughts are turned to peace and love.
Oh! if thy poor devoted servant might
But beg one favour at thy gracious hand ,
Thou wouldst confirm his happiness for ever.
Lady A. What is't ?
Glos. That it may please thee leave these sad
designs
To him that has most cause to be a mourner,
And presently repair to Crosby house ;
Where, after I have solemnly interr'd
At Chertsey monastery this injur'd king,
And wet his grave with my repentant tears,
I will with all expedient duty see you.
1 For divers unknown reasons , I beseech you
Grant me this favour.
"
Lady A. I do, my lord—and much it joys me too
To see you are become so penitent.
Tressel and Stanley, go along with me.
Glos. Bid me farewell .
Lady A. "Tis more than you deserve.
But since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewell, already.
[ Exeunt Lady A. Stanley, and Tressel, R.H.
Guard. Towards Chertsey, my lord ?
20 RICHARD III.
Glos. No, to White-friars ; there attend my coming.
[Exeunt Guards, with the body, L.H..U.E
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 my hatred by,
Having heav'n, her conscience, and these bars against
me,
And I no friends to back my suit withal,.
But the plain devil, and dissembling looks !
And yet to win her,—all the world to nothing!
Can she abase her beauteous eyes on me,
Whose all not equals Edward's moiety?
On me, that halt, and am mis-shapen thus !
My dukedom to a widow's chastity,
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 have my chambers lined with looking glass ;
And entertain a score or two oftailors,
To study fashions to adorn my body..
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
I will maintain it with some little cost ;
But first, I'll turn St. Harry to his grave,
And then return lamenting to my love.
Shine out fair sun, till I salute my glass,
That I may see my shadow as I pass. [ Exit, L.H.

SCENE II.- The Presence.

Enter BUCKINGHAM, hastily, L.H meeting LORD

STANLEY, R.H..

Buck. Did you see the duke ?

Stan. What duke, my lord ?.
 RICHARD III. 21

Buck. His grace of Gloster, did you see him?

Stan. Not lately, my lord-I hope no ill news.
Buck. The worst that heart e'er bore, or tongue can
utter.
Edward the king, his royal brother's, dead !
(Crosses to R.H.)
Stan. 'Tis sad indeed- I wish by your impatience
To acquaint him though, you think it so to him :
(Aside.)
Did the king, my lord, make any mention
Of a protector for his crown and children ?
Buck. He did- Duke Richard has the care of both.
Stan. That sad news you are afraid to tell him too.
(Aside.)
Buck: He'll spare no toils, I'm sure, to fill his place.
Stan. Pray heav'n he's not too diligent. (Aside.)
My lord-is not that the duchess of York,
The king's mother ? coming, I fear, to visit him .
Buck. 'Tis she- little thinking what has befall'n us.

Enter DUCHESs of York, r.b.

Duc. Y. Good day, my lords ; how takes the king

his rest?
Buck. Alas ! madam, too well- he sleeps for ever.
Duc. Y. Dead ! Good heav'n, support me !
Buck. Madam, ' twas my unhappy lot to hear
His last departing groans, and close his eyes.
Duc. Y. Another taken from me, too ! why, just
heav'n ,
Am I still left the last in life and woe ?
First I bemoan'd a noble husband's death,
Yet liv'd with looking on his images :
But now my last support is gone- first Clarence,
Now Edward is for ever taken from me :
And I must now offorce sink down with sorrow.
Buck. Your youngest son, the noble Richard, lives;
His love, I know, will feel his mother's cares,
And bring new comfort to your latter days.
 22 RICHARD III.

Duc. Y. 'Twere new indeed ! for yet of him I've

none,
Unless a churlish disposition may
Be counted, from a child, a mother's comfort.
Where is the queen, my lord ?
Buck. I left her with her kinsmen, deep in sorrow,
Who have with much ado persuaded her
To leave the body-Madam, she is here.

Enter QUEEN, OXFORD, and BLUNT, L.H.

Queen. (Speaking as she enters.) Why do you

thus oppose my grief ? unless,
To make me rave and weep the faster ? Ha !
My mother too in tears ! fresh sorrow strikes
My heart at sight of every friend that lov'd
• My Edward living-Oh mother, he's dead !
Edward, my lord, thy son, our king is dead !
Oh ! that my eyes could weep away my soul,
Then I might follow worthy of his hearse.
Stan. Your duty, madam, of a wife, is dead,
And now the mother's only claims your care.
Think on the prince, your son- send for him strait,
And let his coronation clear your eyes ;
Bury your griefs in the dead Edward's grave,
Revive your joys on living Edward's throne.
Queen. Alas ! that thought but adds to my afflic
tions.
New tears for Edward gone, and fears for Edward
living ;
An helpless child in his minority,
Is in the trust of his stern uncle Gloster,
A man that frowns on me, and all of mine .
Buck. Judge not so hardly, madam, of his love.
Your son will find in him a father's care.

Enter GLOSTER, through M.D.

Glos. Why, ah ! these tears look well- Sorrow's

the mode,
 RICHARD III. 23
And every one at court must wear it now :
With all my heart ; I'll not be out of fashion. (Aside.)
Queen. My lord, just heaven knows I never hated
Gloster ;
But would, on any terms, embrace his friendship.
Buck. These words would make him weep-I know
him your's.
See where he comes in sorrow for our loss.
Glos. (In centre. ) My lords , good morrow,-Cou
sin of Buckingham, (Weeps)
I am your's.
Buck. Good morning to your grace .
Glos. Methinks
We meet like men that had forgot to speak.
Buck. We may remember- but our argument
Is now too mournful to admit much talk.
Glost. It is indeed ! Peace be with him that made
it so !
Sister, take comfort-' tis true, we've all cause
To mourn the dimming of our shining star ;
But sorrow never could revive the dead ;
And if it could, hope would prevent our tears ;
So we must weep, because we weep in vain.
Madam, my mother-I do cry you mercy,
My grief was blind-I did not see your grace. (Crosses
to Duchess .)
Most humbly on my knees, I crave your blessing.
Duc. Y. (R.H.) Thou hast it, and may thy chari
table
Heart and tongue love one another ! may heav'n
Endow thy breast with meekness and obedience.
(Duchess crosses behind to Queen, L.H.)
Glos. Amen ; and make me die a good old man !
That's the old butt-end of a mother's blessing ;
I marvel that her grace did leave it out. (Aside.)
Buck. My lords, I think 'twere fit that now Prince
Edward
Forthwith from Ludlow should be sent for home,
In order to his coronation.
Glos. By all means, my lords - Come, let's in to
council,
24 RICHARD III.
And appoint who shall be the messengers :
4 [Exeunt OXFORD and BLUNT, L.H.D.
Madam, and you, my sister, please you go
To give your sentiments on this occasion .
Queen. My lord, your wisdom needs no help from
me,
My glad consent you have in all that's just
Or for the people's good, though I suffer by't.
Glos. Please you to retire, madam, we shall propose
What you'll not think the people's wrong nor your's.
Queen. May heaven prosper all your good intents !
[Exeunt all but GLos. and Buck . L.B.D.
Glos. Amen, with all my heart, for mine's the
crown,
And is not that a good one-ha ! pray'd she not well,
cousin ?
Buck. I hope she prophesy'd- you now stand fair.
Glos. Now, by St. Paul, I feel it here- methinks
The massy weight on't galls my laden brow :
What think'st thou, cousin, wert not an easy matter
To get Lord Stanley's hand to help it on ?
Buck. My lord, I doubt that ; for his father's sake,
He loves the prince too well ; he'll scarce be won
To any thing against him.
Glos. Poverty, the reward of honest fools,
O'ertake him for't :-what think'st thou then of Hast
ings ?
Buck. He shall be try'd, my lord- I'll find out
Catesby ?
Who shall at subtle distance sound his thoughts :
But we must still suppose the worst may happen :
What if we find him cold in our design ?
Glos. Chop off his head- something we'll soon de
termine ;
But haste and find out Catesby, (Buck. crosses to L..)
That done, follow me to the council-chamber ;
We'll not be seen together much, nor have
It known that we confer in private- therefore
Away, good cousin,
Buck. I am gone, my lord. [Exit, L.B.
 RICHARD III. 25
Glos. Thus far we run before the wind,
My fortune smiles , and gives me all that I dare ask .
The conquer'd lady Anne is bound in vows !
Fast as the priest can make us, we are one.
The king, my brother, sleeps without his pillow,
And I'm left guardian of his infant heir.
Let me see
The prince will soon be here-let him ! the crown !
Oh yes ! he shall have twenty ; globes and sceptres
too :
New ones made to play withal- but no coronation ;
No, nor any court- flies about him— no kinsmen.
Hold ye-where shall he keep his court ? the Tower
Ay-the Tower. [Exit, R.H

END OF ACT II.

ACT III.

SCENE I.- The Palace.

PRINCE EDWARD, GLOSTER, BUCKINGHAM, LORD

STANLEY, TRESSEL, and Attendants, discovered.

Glos. (R.H. of Prince E. ) Now, my royal cousin,

welcome to London :
Welcome to all those honour'd dignities ,
Which by your father's will, and by your birth,
You stand the undoubted heir possess'd of :
And, if my plain simplicity of heart
May take the liberty to shew itself,
You're farther welcome to your uncle's care
And love-Why do you sigh, my lord ?
The weary way has made you melancholy .
Prince E. ( Seated in the centre.) No, uncle ; but
our crosses on the way,
C
26 RICHARD III.

Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy:

I want more uncles here, to welcome me !
Tres. (L.H.) More uncles ! what means his high
ness ?
Stan. (L.H. ) Why, sir, the careful duke of Gloster
has
Secur'd his kinsmen on the way-Lord Rivers, Gray,
Sir Thomas Vaughan, and others of his friends,
Are prisoners now in Pomfret castle :
On what pretence it boots not- there they are,
Let the devil and the duke alone to accuse ' em.
Glos. My lord, the mayor of London comes to greet
you.

Enter LORD MAYOR and Suit, L.H.D.

Lord M. Vouchsafe, most gracious sovereign, to

accept
The general homage of your loyal city :
We farther beg your royal leave to speak
In deep condolement of your father's loss ;
And, as far as our true sorrow will permit,
To 'gratulate your accession to the throne.
Prince E. I thank you, good my lord, and thank
you all.
Alas ! my youth is yet unfit to govern,
Therefore the sword of justice is in abler hands :
But be assured of this, (Rising) so much already
I perceive I love you, that though I know not yet
To do you offices of good, yet this I know,
I'll sooner die than basely do you wrong. (Sits.)
Glos. So wise so young, they say, do ne'er live
long. (Aside.)
Prince E. My lords,
. I thought my mother , and my brother York,
Would long ere this have met us on the way :
Say, uncle Gloster, if our brother come,
Where shall we sojourn till our coronation ?
Glos. Where it shall seem best to your royal self.
May I advise you, sir, some day or two
 RICHARD III. 27
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 E. Why at the Tower ? but be it as you
please.
Buck. (R.H. of Glos.) My lord- your brother's
grace of York.

Enter DUKE and DUCHESS of YORK, L.H.D.

Prince E. Richard of York ! how fares 'our dearest

brother. (Embracing.)
Duke Y. Oh, my dear lord ! So I must call you
now .
Prince E. Ay, brother, to our grief, as it is your's.
Too soon he died who might have better worn
That title, which in me will lose its majesty.
Glos . How fares our cousin, noble lord of York ?
Duke Y. (Crosses to Glos.) Thank you kindly,
dear uncle- Oh, my lord.
(Prince E. salutes the Duchess .)
You said that idle weeds were fast in growth ;
The king, my brother, has outgrown me far.
Glos. He has, my lord.
Duke Y. And therefore is he idle ?
Glos. Oh, pretty cousin, I must not say so.
Duke Y. Nay, uncle, I don't believe the saying's
true,
For, ifit were, you'd be an idle weed.
Glos. How so, cousin ?
Duke Y. Because I have heard folks say, you grew
so fast,
Your teeth would knaw a crust at two hours old :
Now ' twas two years ere I could get a tooth.
Glos. Indeed! I find the brat is taught this lesson
(Aside.)
Who told thee this, my pretty merry cousin ?
Duke Y. Why, your nurse, uncle.
Glos. My nurse, child ! she was dead ' fore thou
wert born.
C 2
28 RICHARD III.
Duke Y. If ' twas not she, I can't tell who told me.
(Crosses to Duchess .)
Glos. So subtle, too -' tis pity thou art short-lived .
(Aside.)
Prince E. My, brother, uncle, will be cross in talk.
Glos. Oh, fear not, my lord ; we shall never quarrel .
Prince E. I hope your grace knows how to bear
with him.
Duke Y. You mean to bear me- not to bear with
me. (Crosses to Glos.)
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 .
(Crosses to L.H.)
Prince E. Fye, brother, I have no such meaning.
Glos. My lord, wilt please you pass along ?
Myself, and my good cousin of Buckingham,
Will to your mother, to intreat of her
To meet and bid you welcome at the Tower.
Duke Y. What ! will you to the Tower, my dear
lord ?
Prince E. My Lord Protector will have it so.
Duke Y. I sha'n't sleep in quiet at the Tower.
Glos. I'll warrant you- King Henry lay there,
And he sleeps in quiet. (Aside. )
Prince E. What should you fear, brother ?
Duke Y. My uncle Clarence's ghost, my lord ;
My grandmother told me he was kill'd there.
Prince E. I fear no uncles dead.
Glos. Nor any, sir, that live, I hope.
Prince E. I hope so too ; but come, my lords,
To the Tower, since it must be so.
[Exeunt all but Gloster and Buckingham, L.H.
Buck. Think you, my lord, this little prating York
Was not instructed by his subtle mother,
To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously ?
Glos . No doubt, no doubt ; oh, ' tis a shrewd
young master :
Stubborn, bold, quick, forward, and capable !
He is all the mother's from the top to the toe :
 RICHARD III. 29
But let them rest- now what says Catesby ?
Buck. My lord, ' tis much as I suspected, and
He's here himself to inform you.

Enter CATESBy, l.h.

Glos. So, Catesby-hast thou been tampering ?

What news ?
Cates. My lord, according to th' instruction given
me,
With words at distance dropt, I sounded Hastings,
Piercing how far he did affect your purpose ;
To which indeed I found him cold, unwilling ;
The sum is this- he seem'd awhile to understand me
not.
At length, from plainer speaking, urg'd to answer,
He said in heat, rather than wrong the head
To whom the crown was due, he'd lose his own.
Glos. Indeed ! his own then answer for that saying :
He shall be taken care of- meanwhile, Catesby,
Be thou near me- (Catesby retires, R.H .) - Cousin of
Buckingham,
Let's lose no time-the mayor and citizens
Are now at busy meeting in Guild-hall.
Thither I'd have you haste immediately,
And at your meetest ' vantage of the time,
Improve those hints I gave you late to speak of :
But above all, infer the bastardy
Of Edward's children.
Buck. Doubt not, my lord, I'll play the orator,
As if myself might wear the golden fee
For which I plead .
Glos. If you thrive well, bring ' em to see me here,
Where you shall find me seriously employ'd,
With the most learned fathers of the church.
Buck. I fly, my lord, to serve you. (Crosses to L.H. )
Glos. To serve thyself, my cousin ;
For look, when I am king, claim thou of me
The earldom of Hereford, and all those moveables
Whereof the king my brother stood possess'd .
C3
30 RICHARD III.
Buck. I shall remember that your grace was bountiful.
Glos. Cousin, I have said it.
Buck. I am gone, my lord. [ Exit, L.H.
Glos. So, I've secur'd my cousin here. These move
ables
Will never let his brains rest, till I'm king.
Catesby, go you with speed to doctor Shaw,
And thence to friar Beuker-bid ' em both
Attend me here, within an hour at farthest :
Meanwhile my private orders shall be given
[Exit Catesby, R.H.
To lock out all admittance to the princes.
Now, by St. Paul , the work goes bravely on!
How many frightful stops would conscience make,
In some soft heads, to undertake like me ?
Come, this conscience is a convenient scare-crow ;
It guards the fruit which priests and wise men taste,
Who never set it up to fright themselves ;
They know ' tis rags, and gather in the face on't;
While half- starv'd shallow daws thro' fear are honest.
Why were laws made, but that we're rogues by nature ?
Conscience ! 'tis our coin, we live by parting with it ;
And he thrives best that has the most to spare.
The protesting lover buys hope with it,
And the deluded virgin short-liv'd pleasure ;
Old grey-beards cram their avarice with it ;
Your lank-jaw'd hungry judge will dine upon ' t,
And hang the guiltless, rather than eat his mutton cold :
The crown'd head quits it for despotic sway,
The stubborn people for unaw'd rebellion .
There's not a slave but has his share of villain ;
Why then should after ages think my deeds
Inhuman, since my worst are but ambition.
Ev'n all mankind to some lov'd ills incline :
Great men choose greater sins, ambition's mine .
[ Exit, R.H.
 RICHARD III. 31

SCENE II - Gothic Chamber.

LADY ANNE discovered sitting on a couch.

Lady A. When, when shall I have rest ! Was mar

riage made
To be the scourge of our offences here ?
Oh! no ' twas meant a blessing to the virtuous ;
It once was so to me, though now my curse.
But see ,
He comes, the rude disturber of my pillow.

Enter GLOSTER, L.h.D.

Glos. Ha ! still in tears ! let them flow on ; they're

signs
Of a substantial grief-why dont she die ?
She must, my interest will not let her live ;
The fair Elizabeth hath caught my eye ;
My heart's vacant, and she shall fill her place.
They say that women have but tender hearts :
"Tis a mistake, I doubt- I've found ' em tough ;
They'll bend, indeed-but he must strain that cracks
' em .
All I can hope's to throw her into sickness,
That I may send her a physician's help .
So, madam, what ! you still take care, I see,
To let the world believe I love you not.
This outward mourning.now has malice in't,
So have these sullen disobedient tears ;
I'll have you tell the world I dote upon you.
Lady A. I wish I could- but ' twill not be believ'd.
Have I deserv'd this usage ?
Glos. You have- you do not please me, as at first.
Lady A. What have I done ? What horrid crime
committed?
Glos. To me the worst of crimes ; outliv'd my
liking.
Lady A. If that be criminal, just heav'n be kind.
C4
1

32 RICHARD III.
And take me while my penitence is warm ;
Oh sir, forgive and kill me.
Glos. Umph ! the meddling world will call that
murder,
And I would have them think me pitiful:
Now, wert thou not afraid of self-destruction ,
Thou hast a fair excuse for't.
Lady A. How fain would I be friends with death !
-Oh name it.
Glos. Thy husband's hate : nor do I hate thee only
From the dull'd edge of sated appetite,
But from the eager love I bear another.
Some call me hypocrite- what think'st thou, now ?
Do I dissemble ?
Lady A. Thy vows of love to me were all dissembled .
Glos. Not one-for when I told thee so , I loved :
Thou art the only soul I never yet deceiv'd ;
And ' tis my honesty that tells thee now,
With all my heart I hate thee.
If this have no effect, she is immortal.
Lady A. Forgive me, heav'n, that I forgave this
man.
Oh may my story, told in after ages,
Give warning to our easy sex's ears ;
May it unveil the hearts of men, and strike
Them deaf to their dissimulated love !

Enter CATESBY, L.H.D.

Glos. Now, Catesby

Cates. My lord, his grace of Buckingham attends
your highness' pleasure.
Glos. Wait on him-I'll expect him here.
[Exit Catesby, L.H.D.
Your absence, madam, will be necessary.
Lady A. Would my death were so ! [ Exit, R.H.
Glos. It may be shortly.
 RICHARD III. 33

Enter CATESBY and BUCKINGHAM , L.H.D.

My cousin, what say the citizens ? [Exit Catesby, R.H.D.

Buck. Now by our hopes, my lord, they are senseless
stones :
Their hesitating fear has struck ' em dumb.
Glos . Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's chil
dren ?
Buck. I did, with his contract to lady Lucy ;
Nay, his own bastardy, and tyranny for trifles ;
Laid open all your victories in Scotland,
Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace ;
Your bounty, justice, fair humility ;
Indeed left nothing that might gild our cause
Untouch'd, or slightly handled in my talk :
And when my oration drew towards an end,
I urged of them that lov'd their country's good,
To do you right, and cry, Long live King Richard .
Glos. And did they so ?
Buck. Not one, by heav'n-but each like statues
fix'd,
Speechless and pale, star'd in his fellow's face :
Which when I saw, I reprehended them,
And ask'd the Mayor what meant this wilful silence ?
His answer was, the people were not us'd
To be spoken to but by the Recorder :
Who then took on him to repeat my words ;
Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke inferr'd ;
But nothing urg'd in warrant from himself.
When he had done, some followers of my own,
At th' lower end of th' hall, hurl'd up their caps,
And some ten voices cry'd, God save King Richard !
At which I took the ' vantage of those few,
And cry'd, thanks, gentle citizens, and friends,
This general applause, and chearful shout,
Argues your wisdom , and your love to Richard ; '
And even here broke off, and came away.
Glos . Oh tongueless blocks ! would they not speak ? ·
Will not the Mayor then, and his brethren, come ?
c 5
34 RICHARD III.
Buck. The Mayor is here at hand-feign you some
fear,
And be not spoken with, but by mighty suit.
A prayer-book in your hand, my lord, were well ,
Standing between two churchmen of repute :
For on that ground I'll make an holy descant ;
Yet be not easily won to our requests :
Seem like the virgin, fearful of your wishes.
Glos. My other self-my counsel's consistory !
My oracle ! my prophet ! my dear cousin !
I as a child will go by thy direction.
Buck. Hark ! the lord Mayor's at hand-away, my
lord ;
No doubt but yet we reach our point propos'd.
Glos. We cannot fail, my lord, while you are pilot !
A little flattery sometimes does well. [Exit, R.H.D.

Enter LORD MAYOR and suit.

Buck. Welcome, my lord : I dance attendance here ;

I am afraid the duke will not be spoke withal .

Enter CATESBY, r.h.d.

Now, Catesby, what says your lord to my request ?

Cates. My lord, he humbly does intreat your grace
To visit him to-morrow, or the next day :
He's now retir'd with two right reverend fathers,
Divinely bent to meditation ;
And in no worldly suit would he be mov'd,
To interrupt his holy exercise.
Buck. Return, good Catesby, to the gracious duke ;
Tell him myself, the mayor, and citizens,
In deep designs , in matters of great moment,
No less importing than our general good,
Are come to have some conference with his grace.
Cates. My lord , I'll instantly inform his highness .
[ Exit, R.H.D.
Buck. Ah, my lord ! this prince is not an Edward ;
He is not lolling on a lewd love- bed,
 RICHARD III. 35
But on his knees at meditation ,
Not dallying with a brace of courtezans ;
But with two deep divines in sacred praying :
Happy were England, would this virtuous prince
Take on himself the toil of sov'reignty.
Lord M. Happy indeed, my lord.
He will not, sure, refuse our proffer'd love.
Buck. Alas, my lord ! you know him not: his mind's
Above this world- he's for a crown immortal,
Look there, his door opens ; now where's our hope ?
Lord M. See where his grace stands, ' tween two
clergymen !
Buck. Ay, ay, ' tis there he's caught- there's his
ambition.
Lord M. How low he bows, to thank ' em for their
care !
And see ! a prayer- book in his hand !
Buck. Would he were king, we'd give him leave to
pray :
Methinks I wish it for the love he bears the city.
How have I heard him vow, he thought it hard
The mayor should lose his title with his office !
Well, who knows ? he may be won.
Lord M. Ah, my lord !
Buck. See, he comes forth-my friends , be resolute ;
I know he's cautious to a fault : but do not
Leave him, till our honest suit be granted.

Enter GLOSTER, with a book, R.H.D.

Glos. Cousin of Buckingham ,

I do beseech your grace to pardon me,
Who, earnest in my zealous meditation,
So long deferr'd the service of my friends.
Now do I fear I've done some strange offence,
That looks disgracious in the city's eye. If so,
'Tis just you should reprove my ignorance.
Buck. You have, my lord: we wish your grace,
On our intreaties, would amend your fault.
Glos. Else wherefore breathe I in a christian land ?
C 6
 36 RICHARD III.
Buck. Know then, it is your fault that you'resign
The scepter'd office of your ancestors,
Fair England's throne, your own due right of birth,
To the corruption of a blemish'd stock;
In this just cause, I come, to move your highness,
That on your gracious self you'd take the charge,
And kingly government ofthis your land,
Not as protector, steward, substitute,
Or lowly factor for another's gain ;
But as successively from blood to blood,
Your own, by right of birth and lineal glory.
Glos. I cannot tell if to depart in silence ,
Or bitterly to speak in your reproof,
Fits best with my degree, or your condition ;
Therefore to speak in just refusal of your suit,
And then in speaking not to check my friends,
Definitively, thus I answer you :
Your love deserves my thanks ; but my desert,
Unmeritable, shuns your fond request ;
For, heav'n be thank'd, there is no need of me :
The royal stock has left us royal fruit,
Which mellow'd by the stealing hours of time,
Will well become the seat of majesty,
And make us, no doubt, happy by his reign .
On him I lay what you would lay on me,
"
The right and fortune of his happier stars ;
Which heav'n forbid my thoughts should rob him of!
Lord M. Upon our knees, my lord, we beg your
grace
To wear this precious robe of dignity,
Which on a child must sit too loose and heavy ;
'Tis your's, befitting both your wisdom and your birth.
(They rise.)
Cates. My lord, this coldness is unkind,
Nor suits it with such ardent loyalty.
Buck. Oh make ' em happy- grant their lawful suit !
Glos . Alas, why would you heap this care on me ?
I am unfit for state and majesty.
I thank you for your loves, but must declare
(I do beseech you take it not amiss)
 RICHARD III. 37
I will not, dare not, must not, yield to you.
Buck. If you refuse us, through a soft remorse,
Loth to depose the child your brother's son,
(As well we know your tenderness of heart, )
Yet know, though you deny us to the last,
Your brother's son shall never reign our king,
But we will plant some other on the throne,
To the disgrace and downfall of your house :
And thus resolv'd, I bid you, sir, farewell.
(Crosses to L.H.)
My lord and gentlemen, I beg your pardon
For this vain trouble- my intent was good ;
I would have serv'd my country and my king :
But ' twill not be . Farewell, till next we meet.
Lord M. Be not too rash, my lord : his grace re
lents.
Buck. Away, you but deceive yourselves.
[ Exit, L.H.
Cates. Sweet prince, accept their suit.
Lord M. If you deny us, all the land will rue it.
Glos. Call him again.. [ Catesby crosses and Exits,
L.H.D.) You will enforce me to
A world of cares : I am not made of stone ,
But penetrable to your kind entreaties,
Though, heaven knows, against my own inclining.
1

Re-enter BUCKINGHAM and CATESBY, L.H.D. Buck

ingham crosses to Gloster.
Cousin of Buckingham , and sage, grave men,
Since you will buckle fortune on my back,
To bear her burden, whether I will or no,
I must have patience to endure the load ;
But if black scandal , or foul-fac'd reproach
Attend the sequel of your imposition ,
Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me ;
For heaven knows, as you may partly see,
How far I am from the desire of this.
Lord M. Heaven guard your grace, we see it, and
will say it !
38 RICHARD III.
Glos. You will but say the truth, my lord.
Buck. My heart's so full, it scarce has vent for
words :
My knee will better speak my duty now. (All kneel.)
Long live our sovereign, Richard, king of England !
Glos. Indeed, your words have touch'd me nearly,
cousin :
Pray rise-I wish you could recall ' em.
Buck. It would be treason now, my lord ; to-mor
row,
If it so please your majesty, from council
Orders shall be given for your coronation.
Glos. E'en when you please, for you will have it so.
Buck. To-morrow, then, we will attend your ma
jesty;
And now we take our leaves with joy. ( Crosses to L.H. )
Glos. Cousin, adieu- my loving friends, farewell :
I must unto my holy work again.
[Exeunt all but Gloster, L.H.D.
Why, now my golden dream is out !
Ambition, like an early friend , throws back
My curtains with an eager hand, o'erjoy'd
To tell me what I dreamt is true. A crown !
Thou bright reward of ever-daring minds,
Oh how thy awful glory wraps my soul !
Nor can the means that got thee dim thy lustre ;
For not men's love, fear pays thee adoration ,
And fame not more survives from good than evil deeds :
Th' aspiring youth that fir'd the Ephesian dome,
Outlives in fame the pious fool that raised it.
Conscience, lie still ; more lives must yet be drain'd :
Crowns got with blood, must be with blood maintain'd.
[ Exit, R.H.D.

END OF ACT III.

 RICHARD III. 39

ACT IV.

SCENE I - A Room in the Tower.

Enter LADY ANNE, in tears, DUKE OF YORK, QUEEN,

PRINCE EDWARD, and DUCHESS OF YORK, R.H.

Prince E. Pray, madam, do not leave me yet,

For I have many more complaints to tell you.
Queen. And I unable to redress the least :
What wouldst thou say, my child ?
Prince E. Oh, mother, since I have lain i' the
Tower,
My rest has still been broke with frightful dreams,
Or shocking news has wak'd me into tears :
I'm scarce allow'd a friend to visit me ;
All my old honest servants are turn'd off,
And in their room are strange ill-natur'd fellows,
Who look so bold , as they were all my masters ;
And I'm afraid they'll shortly take you from me.
Duke Y. Oh mournful hearing !
Lady A. Oh unhappy prince !
Duke Y. Dear brother, why do you weep so ?
You make me cry too .
Queen. Alas, poor innocence !
Prince E. Would I but knew at what my uncle
aims !
If ' twere my crown , I'd freely give it him,
So he'd but let me 'joy my life in quiet.
Duke Y. Why, will my uncle kill us, brother ?
Prince E. I hope he wont ; we never injur'd him.
Queen. I cannot bear to see ' em thus . (Weeping.)

Enter LORD Stanley, L.H.D.

Stan. Madam, I hope your majesty will pardon

What I am griev'd to tell-unwelcome news.
40 RICHARD III.
Queen. Ah me, more sorrow yet, my lord ! We've
long
Despair'd of happy tidings ; pray, what is't ?
Stan. On Tuesday last, your noble kinsmen, Rivers,
Grey, and sir Thomas Vaughan, at Pomfret,
Were executed on a public scaffold.
Duc. Y. Oh dismal tidings !
Prince E. Oh poor uncles ! I doubt my turn is next.
Lady A. Nor mine, I fear, far off.
Queen. Why then let's welcome blood and mas
sacre,
Yield all our throats to the fell tiger's rage,
And die lamenting one another's wrong.
Oh, I foresaw this ruin of our house. (Weeps.)

Enter CATESBY, L.H.D.

Cates. Madam, the king

Has sent me to inform your majesty,
That you prepare (as is advis'd from council)
To- morrow for your royal coronation.
Queen. What do I hear ? support me, heaven !
Lady A. Despightful tidings-oh, unpleasing news !
Alas, I heard of this before ; but could not,
For my soul, find heart to tell you of it.
Cates. The king does farther wish your majesty
Would less employ your visits at the Tower :
He gives me leave t'attend you to the court,
And is impatient , madam, till he sees you.
Lady A. Farewell to all ! And thou, poor injur'd
queen,
Forgive the unfriendly duty I must pay.
Queen. Alas, kind soul, I envy not thy glory ;
Nor think I'm pleas'd thou'rt partner in our sorrow.
Cates. Madam.
Lady A. I come.
Queen. Farewell, thou woeful welcomer of glory.
Cates. Shall I attend your majesty ?
Lady A. Attend me ! whither-to be crown'd ?
Let me with deadly vonom be anointed,
 RICHARD III. 41
And die ere man can say, " Long live the Queen !"
[Exit with Catesby, L.H.
Stan. Take comfort, madam.
Queen. Alas ! where is it to be found ?
Death and destruction follow us so close,
They shortly must o'ertake us.
Stan. In Bretany,
My son-in- law, the earl of Richmond, still
Resides, who with a jealous eye observes
The lawless actions of aspiring Gloster ;
To him would I advise you, madam , fly
Forthwith, for aid, protection, and redress :
He will, I'm sure, with open arms receive you.
Duc. Y. Delay not, madam ;
For ' tis the only hope that heaven has left us.
Queen. Do with me what you please for any
change
Must surely better our condition.
Stan. I farther would advise you, madam, this in
stant
To remove the princes to some
Remote abode, where you yourself are mistress .
Prince E. Dear madam, take me hence ; for I shall
ne'er
Enjoy a moment's quiet here.
Duke Y. Nor I ; pray, mother, let me go too:
Queen. Come then, my pretty young ones, let's
away ;
For here you lie within the falcon's reach,
Who watches but th' unguarded hour to seize you.
(Going with her children, L.H.)

Enter Lieutenant, L.H.

Lieut. I beg your majesty will pardon me ;

But the young princes must, on no account,
Have egress from the Tower :
Nor must (without the king's especial licence),
Of what degree soever, any person
Have admittance to ' em-all must retire .
42 RICHARD III.
Queen. I am their mother, sir ; who else com
mands ' em ? -
If I pass freely, they shall follow me.
For you , I'll take the peril of your fault upon myself.
Lieut. My inclination , madam, would oblige you ;
But I am bound by oath, and must obey :
Nor, madam, can I now with safety answer
For this continued visit.
(Gives the warrant to Stanley.)
Please you, my lord, to read these orders .
Queen. Oh, heavenly powers ! shall I not stay with
them ?
Lieut. Such are the king's commands, madam.
Queen. My lord ?
Stan. 'Tis too true-and it were vain t' oppose ' em.
[Stanley returns the warrant, and Exits, L.H.
Queen. Support me, heaven !
For life can never bear the pangs of such a parting.
Oh, my poor children ! Oh, distracting thought !
I dare not bid ' em, as I should, farewell ;
And then to part in silence stabs my soul !
Prince E. What, must you leave us, mother ?
Queen. What shall I say ? (Aside.)
But for a time, my loves- we shall meet again,
At least in heaven.
Duke Y. Wont you take me with you, mother ?
I shall be so ' fraid to stay, when you are gone .
Queen. I cannot speak to ' em, and yet we must
Be parted. ( Duchess of York crosses behind to L.H.)
Then let these kisses say farewell.
Why, oh why, just heaven , must these be our last !
Duc. Y. Give not your grief such way- be sudden
when you part.
Queen. I will- since it must be-to heaven I leave
'em ! (Kneels . Lieutenant takes charge of
the Princes.)
Hear me, ye guardian powers of innocence !
Awake or sleeping, oh protect ' em still !
Still may their helpless youth attract men's pity,
That when the arm of cruelty is raised,
 RICHARD III. 43

Their looks may drop the lifted dagger down

From the stern murderer's relenting hand,
And throw him on his knees in penitence !
Both Princes. Oh mother, mother!
Queen. Oh my poor children !
[ Exeunt Queen and Duchess of York, L.H. Lieut.
with the Princes, R.H.

SCENE II.- The Presence .

Discovering RICHARD seated ; BUCKINGHAM, Cates

BY, RATCLIFF, &c.

Rich. Stand all apart. [Exeunt all the Court but

Ratcliff and Catesby, R.H.) Cousin of Buck
ingham .
Buck. My gracious sovereign.
Rich. Give me thy hand ;
At length by thy advice and thy assistance,
Is Gloster seated on the English throne.
But say, my cousin—
What shall we wear these glories for a day ?
Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them ?
Buck. I hope for ages, sir-long may they grace
you !
Glos. Oh, Buckingham ! now do I play the touch
stone,
To try if thou be current friend indeed :
Young Edward lives, so does his brother York
Now think what I would speak .
Buck. Say on my gracious lord.
Glos. I tell thee, coz, I've lately had two spiders
Crawling upon my startled hopes
Now though thy friendly hand has brush'd em from
me,
Yet still they crawl offensive to my eyes ;
I would have some kind friend to tread upon 'em:
I would be king, my cousin.
Buck. Why so I think you are, my royal lord.
44 RICHARD III,
Glos. Ha ! am I king ? ' tis so -but-Edward
lives..
Buck. Most true, my lord.
Glos. 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 ;
Now, cousin, canst thou answer me ?
Buck. None dare dispute your highness ' pleasure.
Glos. Indeed !, methinks thy kindness freezes, cou
sin.
Thou dost refuse me, then !-they shall not die.
Buck. My lord, since ' tis an action cannot be
Recall'd, allow me but some pause to think ;
I'll instantly resolve your highness . [Exit, L.H.
Cates. The king seems angry, see, he knaws his lip .
Glos . I'll henceforth deal with shorter-sighted fools ;
None are for me, that look into my deeds
With thinking eyes
High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect ;
The best on't is, it may be done without him,
Though not so well perhaps - had he consented,
Why then the murder had been his, not mine.
We'll make shift as ' tis- Come hither, Catesby :
Where's that same Tirrell whom thou told'st me of?
Hast thou given him those sums of gold I order'd ?
Cates. I have, my liege.
Glos. Where is he ?
Cates. He waits your highness' pleasure.
Glos. Give him this ring, and say myself
Will bring him farther orders instantly.
[Exit Catesby, R.H.D.
The deep-revolving duke of Buckingham
No more shall be the neighbour to my councils :
Has he so long held out with me untir'd,
And stops he now for breath ? Well, be it so.

Enter LORD STANLEY, L.H.

How now, lord Stanley, -what's the news ?

 RICHARD III. 45
Stan. I hear, my liege, the lord marquis of Dorset
Is fled to Richmond now in Bretany.
Glos. Why let him go, my lord : he may be spar'd .
(Crosses to L.B. )
Hark thee, Ratcliff, when saw'st thou Anne, my queen ?
Is she still weak ? has my physician seen her ?
Rat. He has, my lord, and fears her mightily.
Glos. But he's exceeding skilful, she'll mend shortly.
Rat. I hope she will, my lord. [Exit, L.H.D.
Glos. And if she does, I have mistook my man.
I must be married to my brother's daughter,
At whom I know the Breton, Richmond, aims ;
And by that knot looks proudly on the crown.
But then to stain me with her brother's blood ;
Is that the way to woo the sister's love ?
No matter what's the way-for while they live,
My goodly kingdom's on a weak foundation .
'Tis done, my daring heart's resolved- they're dead !

Enter BUCKINGHAM , L.H.

Buck. My lord, I have consider'd in my mind,

The late request that you did sound me in.
Glos. Well, let that rest-Dorset is fled to Rich
mond.
Buck. I have heard the news, my lord.
Glos . Stanley, he's your near kinsman-well, look
to him .
Buck. My lord, I claim that gift, my due by promise,
For which your honour and your faith's engag'd ;
The earldom of Hereford, and those moveables,
Which you have promis'd I shall possess.
Glos. Stanley, look to your wife ; if she convey
Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.
[Exit Stanley, R.H.
Buck. What says your highness to my just request ?
Glos. I do remember me, Harry the Sixth,
Did prophesy, that Richmond should be king,
When Richmond was a little peevish boy.
"Tis odd―a king ? perhaps
46 RICHARD III.

Enter CATESBY, R.H.D.

Cates. My lord, I have obey'd your highness ' or

ders.
Buck. May it please you to resolve me in my suit.
Glos . Lead Tirrel to my closet, I'll meet him.
[Exit Catesby, R.H.D.
Buck. I beg your highness' ear, my lord.
Glos. I'm busy- thou troublest me-I'm not i' th'
vein. [Exit, R.H.D.
Buck. Oh, patience, heav'n ! is't thus he pays my
service ?
Was it for this I rais'd him to the throne ?
Oh ! if the peaceful dead have any sense
Of the vile injuries they bore while living ;
Then sure the joyful souls of blood - suck'd Edward,
Henry, Clarence, Hastings, and all that through
His foul corrupted dealings have miscarry'd,
Will from the walls of heav'n in smiles look down,
To see this tyrant tumbling from his throne,
His fall unmourn'd, and bloody as their own.
[Exit, L.H.

SCENE II.- An Apartment in the Tower.

Enter TIRREL, DIGHTON, and FOREST, L.H.

Tir. Come , gentlemen,

Have you concluded on the means ?
Forest. Smothering will make no noise, sir.
Tir. Let it be done i̇' th' dark- for should you see
Their young faces, who knows how far their looks
Of innocence may tempt you into pity ?
Stand back- Lieutenant, have you brought the keys ?

Enter Lieutenant, R.H.

Lieut. I have ' em, sir.

 RICHARD III. 47
Tir. Then here's your warrant to deliver 'em.
(Giving a ring.)
Lieut. Your servant, sir . (Crosses to L.H. )
What can this mean ! why at this dead of night
To give 'em too ! ' tis not for me t' inquire.
There, gentlemen ;
That way-you have no further need of me.
[Exeunt, Lieut. L.H. the others R.H.

Enter GLOSTER, through 'M.D.

Glos. Would it were done :

There is a busy something here,
That foolish custom has made terrible
To the intent of evil deeds ; and nature too,
As if she knew me womanish, and weak,
Tugs at my heart-strings with complaining cries,
To talk me from my purpose
And then the thought of what mens' tongues will
say,
Of what their hearts must think ;
To have no creature love me living, nor
My memory when dead .
Shall future ages, when these childrens' tale
Is told, drop tears in pity of their hapless fate,
And read with detestation the misdeeds of Gloster,
The crook-back'd tyrant, cruel , barbarous,
And bloody ? will they not say too,
That to possess the crown, nor laws divine
Nor human stopt my way ?-Why let ' em say it ;
They can't but say I had the crown ;
I was not fool as well as villain.
Hark ! the murder's doing : princes, farewell ;
To me there's musick in your passing-bell.

Enter TIRREL, r.h.

Glos. Now, my Tirrel, how are the brats dispos'd ?

Say, am I happy ? hast thou dealt upon ' em ?
 48 RICHARD III .
Tir. If to have done the thing you gave in charge
Beget your happiness- then, sir, be happy, for it is
done.
Glos. But didst thou see ' em dead ?
Tir. I did, my lord.
Glos. And bury'd, my good Tirrel ?
Tir. In that I thought to ask your grace's pleasure.
Glos. I have it I'll have ' em sure- get me a coffin
Full of holes, let ' em be both cramm'd into it ;
And hark thee, in the night tide throw ' em down
The Thames- once in, they'll find the way to the
bottom ;
Meantime but think how I may do thee good,
And be inheritor of thy desire.
Tir. I humbly thank your highness.
Glos. About it strait, good Tirrel.
Tir. Conclude it done, my lord. [ Exit, R.H.
Glos. Why then my loudest fears are hush'd ;
The sons of Edward have eternal rest,
And Anne my wife has bid this world good night ;
While fair Elizabeth, my beauteous niece,
Like a new morn, lights onward to my wishes.

Enter CATESBY, L.B.

Cates . My lord—
Glos. Good news, or bad, that thou com'st in so
bluntly ?
Cates. Bad news, my lord ; Morton is fled to Rich
mond,
And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen ,
Is in the field, and still his power increases .
Glos. Morton with Richmond touches me more
near
Than Buckingham, and his rash-levy'd numbers .
But come, dangers retreat when boldly they're con
fronted, (Crosses to L.H.)
And dull delay leads impotence and fear ;
Then fiery expedition raise my arm,
 RICHARD III. 49
And fatal may it fall on crush'd rebellion !
Let's muster men, my council is my shield :

**
We must be brief when traitors brave the field.
[Exeunt, L.H.

SCENE IV.- The City Gates.

Enter QUEEN, and the Duchess of YORK, R.H.

Queen. Oh, my poor children ! -Oh, my tender

babes !
My unblown flowers, pluck'd by untimely hands :
1 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 !
Why slept their guardian angels when this deed was
done ?
WAP
Duc. Y. So many miseries have drain'd my eyes,
That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute ;
Why should calamity be full of words ?
TH
Queen. Let's give ' em scope : for though they can't
remove,
Yet do they ease affliction.
Duc. Y. Why, then, let us be loud in exclamations ;
To Richard haste, and pierce him with our cries :
(Trumpet sounds a March.)
Hark ! his trumpet sounds- this way he must pass .
Queen. Alas ! I've not the daring to confront him.
(Crosses to R.H. )
Duc. Y. I have a mother's right, I'll force him to
hear me .

Enter GLOSTER and CATESBY, with forces, through

the Gates.- Trumpet sounds a March.

Glos. Who interrupts me in my expedition ?

Duc. Y. Dost thou not know me ? Art thou not my
son ?
Glos. I cry your mercy, madam, is it you ?
D
50 RICHARD III.
Duc. Y. Art thou my son ?
Glos. Ay, I thank heav'n , my father, and yourself.
Duc. Y. Then I command thee hear me.
Glos. Madam, I have a touch of your condition,
That cannot brook the accent of reproof.
Duc. Y. Stay, I'll be mild and gentle in my words.
Glos. And brief, good mother, for I am in haste.
Duc. Y. Why, I have staid for thee, just heaven
knows,
In torment and in agony.
Glos. And came I not at last to comfort you ?
Duc. Y. No, on my soul ; too well thou know'st it ;
A grievous burden was thy birth to me ;
Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy ;
Thy prime of manhood, daring, bold, and stubborn ;
Thy age confirm'd, most subtile, proud, and bloody.
Glos . If I am so disgracious in thy eye,
Let me march on, and not offend thee, madam ;
Strike up the drum. (Queen advances, R.H.)
Duc. Y. Yet stay, I charge thee, hear me.
Queen. If not, hear me for I have wrongs that will
speak
Without a tongue- methinks the very sight
Of me should turn thee into stone ;
Where are my children , Gloster ?
Duc. Y. Where is thy brother Clarence ?
Queen. Where Hastings ?
Duc. Y. Rivers ?
Queen. Vaughan ?
Duc. Y. Grey ?
Glos. A flourish, trumpets, strike alarum, drums,
Let not the heav'ns hear these tell-tale women
Rail on the heav'n's anointed- strike, I say.
(Alarum of Drums and Trumpets .)
--

Either be patient, and intreat me fair,

Or with the clamorous report of war
Thus will I drown your exclamations.
Duc. Y. Then hear me, heav'n, and heav'n at his
latest hour
Be deaf to him, as he is now to me !
 RICHARD III. 51
Ere from this war he turn a conqueror,
Ye powers cut off his dangerous thread oflife,
Lest his black sins rise higher in account
Than hell has pains to punish ! (Crosses to R.H. )
Mischance and sorrow wait thee to the field !
Heart's discontent, languid and lean despair,
With all the hells of guilt pursue thy steps for ever !
[Exit, R.H.
Queen. Though far more cause, yet much less power
to curse
Abides in me--I say amen to her. (Advances, R.H.)
Glos. Stay, madam, I would beg some words with
you.
Queen. What canst thou ask, that I have now to
grant !
Is't another son ? Gloster, I have none.
Glos. You have a beauteous daughter, call'd Eliza
beth ,
Queen. Must she die, too ?
Glos . For whose fair sake, I'll bring more good to you,
Than ever you or your's from me had harm ;
So in the Lethe of thy angry soul
Thou'lt drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs
Which thou supposest me the cruel cause of.
Queen. Be brief, lest that the process ofthy kindness
Last longer telling than thy kindness' date.
Glos. Know then, that from my soul I love the fair
Elizabeth, and will, with your permission,
Seat her on the throne of England.
Queen. Alas ! vain man, how canst thou woo her ?
Glos. That would I learn of you,
As one being best acquainted with her humour .
Queen. If thou wilt learn of me, then , woo her thus :
Send to her, by the man who kill'd her brothers,
A pair of bleeding hearts- thereon engrav❜d,
Edward and York- then, haply, will she weep .
On this, present her with an handkerchief
Stain'd with their blood, to wipe her woeful eyes :
If this inducement move her not to love,
Read o'er the history of thy noble deeds ;
D2
52 RICHARD III.
Tell her, thy policy took off her uncles,
Clarence, Rivers, Grey ; nay, and, for her sake,
Made quick conveyance with her dear aunt Anne.
Glos. You mock me, madam ; this is not the way
To win your daughter.
(Glos.retires ; converses with Rat . and sends
him off, L.H.)
Queen. What shall I say ? still to affront his love,
I fear, will but incense him to revenge ;
And to consent I should abhor myself ;
Yet I may seemingly comply, and thus,
By sending Richmond word of his intent,
Shall gain some time to let my child escape him.
It shall be so. (Aside.)
I have consider'd , sir, of your important wishes,
And, could I but believe you real
Glos. Now, by the sacred hosts of saints above
Queen. O, do not swear, my lord ; I ask no oath,
Unless my daughter doubt you more than I.
Glos. Oh, my kind mother ! (I must call you so)
Be thou to her my love's soft orator ;
Plead what I will be, not what I have been;
Not my deserts, but what I will deserve.
And, when this warlike arm shall have chastis'd
The audacious rebel, hot-brain'd Buckingham ;
Bound with triumphant garlands will I come,
And lead your daughter to a conqueror's bed.
Queen. My lord, farewell- in some few days expect
To hear how fair a progress I have made :
Till when, be happy, as you're penitent.
Glos. My heart goes with you to my love. Farewell.
[Exit Queen, R.H.
Relenting, shallow-thoughted woman !

Enter RATCLIFF, L.H.

How now ! the news ?

Rat. Most gracious sovereign, on the western coast,
Rides a most powerful navy, and our fears
Inform us Richmond is their admiral.
 RICHARD HI. 53

There do they hull, expecting but the aid

Of Buckingham , to welcome them ashore. [Exit, L.H.
Glos. We must prevent him then- Come hither,
Catesby.
Cates. My lord, your pleasure ?
Glos. Post to the duke of Norfolk, instantly,
Bid him straight levy all the strength and power
That he can make, and meet me suddenly
At Salisbury- Commend me to his grace- away.
[ Exit Catesby, R.H.

Enter LORD STANLEY, L.H.

Well, my lord, what news have you gather'd ?

Stan. Richmond is on the seas, my lord.
Glos . There let him sink-and be the seas on him.
White-liver'd runagate-what does he there ?
Stan. I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess.
Glos. Well, as you guess?
Stan. Stirred up by Dorset, Buckingham , and
Morton,
He makes for England, here to claim the crown.
Glos . Traitor ! the crown !—
Where is thy power then, to beat him back ?
Where be thy tenants, and thy followers ?
The foe upon our coast, and thou no friends to meet
'em !
Or hast thou march'd them to the western shore,
To give the rebels conduct from their ships ?
Stan. My lord, my friends are ready all i' th' north.
Glos. The north ! why, what do they i' th ' north,
When they should serve their sovereign in the west ?
Stan. They yet have had no orders, sir, to move :
If ' tis your royal pleasure they should march,
I'll lead them on with utmost haste to join you,
Where, and what time, your majesty shall please.
Glos. What, thou'dst be gone to join with Rich
mond ?-ha
Stan. Sir, you have no cause to doubt my loyalty ;
I ne'er yet was, nor ever will be, false.
D3
54 RICHARD III.
Glos. Away then to thy friends, and lead ' em on
To meet me- (Crosses to R.H.)-hold, come back-I
will not trust thee.
I've thought a way to make thee sure-your son,
George Stanley, sir, I'll have him left behind ;
And look your heart be firm,
Or else his head's assurance is but frail.
Stan. As I prove true, my lord, so deal with him .
Glos . Away . [Exit Stanley, R.H.

Enter RATCLIFF , L.H.

Rat. My lord, the army of great Buckingham,

By sudden floods, and fall of waters,
Is half lost, and scatter'd :
And he himself wander'd away alone,
No man knows whither.
Glos. Has any careful officer proclaim'd
Reward to him that brings the traitor in ?
Rat. Such proclamation has been made, my lord.

Enter CATESBY, R.H.

Cates. My liege, the duke of Buckingham is taken .'

Glos. Off with his head-so much for Buckingham.
Cates. My lord, I am sorry I must tell more news.
Glos. Out with it.
Cates . The earl of Richmond, with a mighty power,
Is landed, sir, at Milford ;
And, to confirm the news, lord marquis Dorset,
And sir Thomas Lovell, are up in Yorkshire .
Glos. Why, ay, this looks rebellion-Ho ! my horse !
By heav'n, the news alarms my stirring soul ;
Come forth, my honest sword, which here I vow,
By my soul's hope, shall ne'er again be sheath'd ;
Ne'er shall these watching eyes have needful rest,
Till death has clos'd ' em in a glorious grave,
Or fortune given me measure of revenge .
[Exeunt, R.H.

END OF ACT IV.

 RICHARD II . 55

ACT V.

SCENE I.- The Country, near Tamworth.

Enter RICHMOND, Oxford, BLUNT, and others,

L.H. U.E.

Rich. Thus far, into the bowels of the land,

Have we march'd on without impediment.
Gloster, the bloody and devouring boar,
Whose ravenous appetite has spoil'd your fields,
Laid this rich country waste, and rudely cropt
Its ripen'd hopes of fair posterity,
Is now even in the center of the isle,
As we're inform'd, near to the town of Leicester :
From Tamworth thither is but one day's march ;
And here receive we, from our father Stanley,
Lines of fair comfort and encouragement,
Such as will help and animate our cause ;
On which let's cheerly on, courageous friends,
To reap the harvest of a lasting peace,
Or fame more lasting from a well-fought war.
Ox. Your words have fire, my lord, and warm our
men,
Who look'd, methought, but cold before-dishearten'd
With the unequal numbers of the foe.
Rich. Why, double ' em still, our cause would con
quer ' em .
Thrice is he arm'd, that has his quarrel just ;
And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted :
The very weight of Gloster's guilt shall crush him.
Blunt. His best friends, no doubt, will soon be our's.
Or. He has no friends, but what are such through
fear.
Rich. And we no foes , but what are such to heav'n.
Then, doubt not, heav'n's for us- let's on, my friends :
 56 RICHARD III.
True hope ne'er tires, but mounts with eagle's wings ;
Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings.
[Exeunt, R.H.

SCENE II.- Bosworth Field.

Enter GLOSTER, NORFOLK, RATCLIFF, &c.

Glos. Here pitch our tent, even in Bosworth Field :

My good lord of Norfolk, the cheerful speed
Of your supply has merited my thanks.
Nor. I am rewarded, sir, in having power
To serve your majesty.
Glos. You have our thanks, my lord : up with my
tent,
Here will I lie to-night-but where to-morrow ?
Well, no matter where.-Has any careful friend
Discover'd yet the number of the rebels ?
Nor. My lord, as I from spies am well inform'd,
Six or seven thousand is their utmost power.
Glos. Why, our battalia treble that amount ;
Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength,
Which they upon the adverse faction want.
Nor. Their wants are greater yet, my lord-those
e'en
Of motion, life, and spirit- did you but know
How wretchedly their men disgrace the field ;
Oh, such a tattered host of mounted scare-crows !
So poor, so famish'd ; their executors,
The greedy crows, fly hovering o'er their heads,
Impatient for their lean inheritance.
Glos. Now, by St. Paul, we'll send ' em dinners and
apparel ;
Nay, give their fasting horses provender,
And after fight ' em.- How long must we stay,
My lords, before these desperate fools will give
Us time to lay ' em with their faces upwards ?
Nor. Unless their famine saves our swords that
labour,
To-morrow's sun will light ' em to their ruin ;
So soon, I hear, they mean to give us battle.
 RICHARD III. 57
Glos. The sooner still the better-Come my lords,
Now let's survey the ' vantage of the ground;
(Crosses to R.H.)
Call me some men of sound direction.`
Nor. My gracious lord
Glos. What say'st thou, Norfolk ?
Nor. Might I advise your majesty, you yet
Shall save the blood that may be shed to-morrow.
Glos. How so, my lord ?
Nor. The poor condition of the rebels tells me,
That, on a pardon offer'd to the lives
Of those who instantly shall quit their arms,
Young Richmond, ere to -morrow's dawn, were friend
less .
Glos. Why that, indeed, was our sixth Harry's way,
Which made his reign one scene of rude commotion.
I'll be in men's despite a monarch ; no,
Let kings that fear forgive-blows and revenge for me.
[Exeunt, R.H.

SCENE III.- Richmond's Camp, in Bosworth Field.

Enter RICHMOND, OXFORD, BLUNT, &c. L.H.

Rich. The weary sun has made a golden set,

And by yon ruddy brightness of the clouds,
Gives token of a goodly day to -morrow .
Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard ;
My lord of Oxford, you , sir Walter Herbert,
And you, sir William Brandon , stay with me:
The earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment .
Here have I drawn the model of our battle,
Which parts in just proportion our small power :
Here may each leader know his several charge.

Enter Officer, L.H.

Off. Sir, a gentleman that calls himself Stanley,

Desires admittance to the earl of Richmond.
Rich. Now, by our hopes, my noble father-in-law ;
58 RICHARD III.

Admit him- [Exit Officer] my good friends, your

leave awhile.

Enter LORD STANLEY, L.H. Officers retire, L.H.

My honour'd father ! on my soul,

The joy of seeing you this night is more
Than my most knowing hopes presag'd-what news ?
Stan. I, by commission, bless thee from thy mother,
Who prays continually for Richmond's good :
The queen too, has with tears of joy consented
Thou shouldst espouse Elizabeth, her daughter,
At whom the tyrant Richard closely aims.
In brief (for now the shortest moment of
My stay is bought with hazard of my life)
Prepare thy battle early in the morning,
(For so the season of affairs requires)
And this be sure of, I, upon the first
Occasion offer'd, will deceive some eyes,
And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms :
In which I had more foreward been, ere this,
But that the life of thy young brother, George,
(Whom as my pawn of faith, stern Richard keeps)
Would then be forfeit to his wild revenge.
Farewell, the rude enforcement of the time
Denies me to renew those vows of love
Which so long-sunder'd friends should dwell upon.
lord
Rich. We yet may meet again, my
Stan. Tillthen, once more farewell- be resolute, and
conquer. [ Exit, L.H.
Rich. Give him safe conduct to his regiment.
[Exeunt Officer and Stanley, R.H.
Well, sirs, to-morrow proves a busy day ;
But come, the night's far spent-let's in to council ;
Captain, an hour before the sun gets up,
Let me be wak'd-I will in person walk
From tent to tent, and early cheer the soldiers.
[Exeunt, R.H.
 RICHARD III. 59

SCENE IV.- Bosworth Field.

Enter GLOSTER, RATCLIFF, NORFOLK , and

CATESBY, L.H.
Glos . Catesby.
Cat. Here, my lord.
Glos. Send out a pursuivant at arms
To Stanley's regiment ; bid him , ' fore sun- rise,
Meet me with his power, or his son George's head
Shall pay the forfeit of his cold delay.
What, is my beaver easier than it was,
And all my armour laid into my tent ?
Cates. It is, my liege, all in readiness .
Glos. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge ;
Use careful watch- choose trusty centinels .
Nor. Doubt not, my lord. (Crosses to L.H. )
Glos. Be stirring with the lark, good Norfolk.
Nor. I shall my lord [Exit, L.H.
Glos. Saddle White Surry for the field to-morrow.
Is ink and paper ready ?
Cates. It is, my lord .
Glos. An hour after midnight, come to my tent,
And help to arm me-a good night, my friends .
[Exit, R.H.
Cates. Methinks, the king has not that pleas'd ala
crity,
Nor cheer of mind, that he was wont to have.
Rat. The mere effect of business ;
You'll find him, sir, another man i'th' field,
When you shall see him with his beaver up,
Ready to mount his neighing steed, with whom
He smiling seems to have some wanton talk,
Clapping his pamper'd sides to hold him still ;
Then, with a motion swift and light as air,
Like fiery Mars, he vaults him to the saddle ;
Looks terror to the foe, and courage to his soldiers.
Cates , Good night to Richmond then ; for, as I hear,
His numbers are so few, and those so sick,
And famish'd in their march, if he dares fight us-
60 RICHARD III.

Hejumps into the sea to cool his fever.

But come, ' tis late- Now let us to our tents,
We've few hours good, before the trumpet wakes us.
[ Exeunt, L.H.

SCENE V.- Gloster's Tent.

Enter GLOSTER from his Tent.

Glos . 'Tis now the dead of night, and half the

world
Is in a lonely, solemn darkness hung :
Yet I (so coy a dame is sleep to me,)
With all the weary courtship of
My care-tir'd thoughts, can't win her to my bed ;
Though e'en the stars do wink, as ' twere with over
watching .
I'll forth, and walk awhile- the air's refreshing,
And the ripe harvest of the new- mown hay
Gives it a sweet and wholesome odour.
How awful is this gloom ! and hark ! from camp to
camp
The hum of either army stilly sounds ;
That the fixt centinels almost receive
The secret whispers of each other's watch .
Steed threatens steed in high and boastful neighings,
Piercing the night's dull ear.-Hark ! from the tents
The armourers accomplishing the knights,
With clink of hammers closing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation ; while some,
Like sacrifices, by their fires of watch,
With patience sit, and inly ruminate
The morning's danger.- By yon heav'n, my stern
Impatience chides this tardy-gaited night,
That, like a foul and ugly witch, does limp
So tediously away- I'll to my couch,
And once more try to sleep her into morning.
(Lies down, a groan is heard.)
Ha! what means that dismal voice ? sure 'tis
The echo of some yawning grave,
That teems with an untimely ghost .-'Tis gone !
 RICHARD III. 61
"Twas but my fancy, or, perhaps, the wind,
Forcing its entrance through some hollow cavern.—
No matter what- I feel my eyes grow heavy. ( Sleeps.)

KING HENRY's Ghost appears .

King H. Oh! thou, whose unrelenting thoughts,

not all
The hideous terrors of thy guilt can shake ;
Whose conscience, with thy body, ever sleeps
Sleep on ; while I, by heaven's high ordinance,
In dreams of horror wake thy frightful soul :
Now, give thy thoughts to me ; let ' em behold
These gaping wounds, which thy death-dealing hand
Within the tower gave my anointed body :
Now shall thy own devouring conscience knaw
Thy heart, and terribly revenge my murder.

LADY ANNE'S Ghost appears.

Lady A. Think on the wrongs of wretched Anne,

thy wife,
E'en in the battle's heat remember me,
And edgeless fall thy sword-despair and die.

The Ghosts of Prince Edward and the DUKE of

YORK appear.

Prince E. Richard, dream on, and see the wander

ing spirits
Of thy young nephews, murder'd in the Tower :
Could not our youth, our innocence, persuade
Thy cruel heart to spare our harmless lives ?
Who, but for thee, alas ! might have enjoy'd
Our many promis'd years of happiness .
No soul, save thine, but pities our misusage:
O, ' twas a cruel deed ! therefore alone,
Unpitying, unpitied shalt thou fall.
King H. The morning's dawn has summon'd me
away ;
E
62 RICHARD III..
And let that wild despair, which now does prey
Upon thy mangled thoughts, alarm the world .
Awake, Richard, awake, to guilty minds
A terrible example ! (All the Ghosts vanish.)
Glos. Give me another horse-bind up my wounds !
Have mercy, heav'n ! ha ! soft-' twas but a dream ;
But then so terrible, it shakes my soul ;
Cold drops of sweat hang on my trembling flesh ;
My blood grows chilly, and I freeze with horror :
Oh, tyrant conscience ! how dost thou afflict me ;
When I look back, ' tis terrible retreating ;
I cannot bear the thought, nor dare repent :
I am but man ; and fate do thou dispose me.

Enter CATESBY, R.H.

Who's there ?
Cates. 'Tis I, my lord ; the early village cock
Hath thrice done salutation to the morn :
Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour.
Glos. Oh, Catesby ! I have had such horrid dreams .
Cates. Shadow's, my lord-below the soldier's heed
ing.
Glos. Now, by my this day's hopes- shadows to
night
Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard,
Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers,
Arm'd all in proof, and led by shallow Richmond.
Cates. Be more yourself, my lord : consider, sir,
Were it but known a dream had frighted you,
How would your animated foes presume on't!
Glos. Perish the thought !-no, never be it said
That fate itself could awe the soul of Richard.
Hence, babbling dreams ! you threaten here in vain !
Conscience, avaunt ! Richard's himself again :
(Trumpets sound a call.)
Hark ! the shrill trumpet sounds to horse ; away ;
My soul's in arms, and eager for the fray.
[Flourish of Drums and Trumpets. Exeunt, R.H.
 RICHARD III. 63

SCENE VI.—A Part of Bosworth Field.

A March.-- Enter RICHMOND , OXFORD, Soldiers,

&c. L.H.

Rich. Halt.
Sold. (Without) Halt-halt !
Rich. How far into the morning is it, friends ?
Or. Near four, my lord.
Rich. 'Tis well
I am glad to find we are such early stirrers.
Ox. Methinks the foe's less forward than we thought
' em ;
Worn as we are, we brave the field before 'em.
Rich. Come, there looks life in such a cheerful
haste :
If dreams should animate a soul resolv'd,
I'm more than pleas'd with those I've had to night ;
Methought that all the ghosts of them , whose bodies
Richard murder'd, came mourning to my tent,
And rous'd me to revenge ' em,
Ox. A good omen, sir,-(Trumpets sound a distant
March, R.H.) hark ! the trumpet of
The enemy ; it speaks them on the march.
Rich. Why then let's on, my friends, to face ' em !
In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man,
As mild behaviour and humility ;
But, when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Let us be tigers in our fierce deportment :
For me, the ransom of my bold attempt
Shall be this body on the earth's cold face ;
But, ifwe thrive, the glory of the action
The meanest here shall share his part of ;
Advance your standards, draw your willing swords ;
Sound drums, and trumpets, boldly and cheerfully.
The word's St. George, Richmond, and Victory.
[Flourish of Drums and Trumpets, Exeunt, R.H.
E2
64 RICHARD III.

SCENE VI.-Richard's Camp .

Enter GLOSTER and CATESBY, L.H.U.E.

Glos. Who saw the sun to day ?

Cates. He has not yet broke forth, my lord.
Glos. Then he disdains to shine-for, by the clock,
He should have brav'd the east an hour ago :
Not shine to day ! Why, what is that to me,
More than to Richmond ! for the self-same heav'n
That frowns on me, looks low'ring upon him.

Enter NORFOLK, with a paper in his hand, R.H.

Nor. Prepare, my lord, the foe is in the field.

Glos. Come, bustle, bustle, caparison my horse,
Call forth Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power ;
Myself will lead the soldiers to the plain.
[Exit Catesby, L.H.
Well, Norfolk, what think'st, thou now ?
Nor. That we shall conquer-but on my tent,
This morning early, was this paper found.
Glos. (Reads.) " Jockey of Norfolk, be not too
bold,
For Dickon, thy master, is bought and sold."
A weak invention of the enemy !
Come, gentlemen, now each man to his charge,
And, ere we do bestride our foaming steeds ,
Remember whom you are to cope withal ,
A scum of Bretons, rascals, runaways,
Whom their o'ercloy'd country vomits forth
To desperate adventures, and destruction.

Enter CATESBY, L.H.

What says Lord Stanley, will he bring his power ?

Cates. He does refuse, my lord- he will not stir.
 RICHARD III. 65

Glos. Off with his son George's head.

(Distant March, R.H.)
Nor. My lord, the foe's already past the marsh—
After the battle let young Stanley die.
Glos. Why, after be it then.
A thousand hearts are swelling in my bosom ;
Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head,
Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood;
And thou, our warlike champion, thrice-renown'd,
St. George, inspire me with the rage of lions ;
Upon ' em - charge-follow me ! [ Exeunt, R.H.

SCENE VIII .-A Part of Bosworth Field.

Alarums .

Enter GLOSTER, R.H.

Glos. What ho ! young Richmond, ho, ' tis Richard

calls !
I hate thee, Harry, for thy blood of Lancaster ;
Now if thou dost not hide thee from my sword,
Now while the angry trumpet sounds alarms,
And dying groans transpierce the wounded air,
Richmond, I say, come forth, and singly face me ;
Richard is hoarse with daring thee to arms. [Exit, L.H

Enter CATESBY, L.H.U.E. and NORFOLK, R.H.U.E. in

disorder.

Cates. Rescue ! Rescue ! my lord of Norfolk, haste ;

The king enacts more wonders than a man,
Daring and opposite to every danger :
His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights,
Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death ;
Nay haste, my lord-the day's against us.
[Exit, L.H.U.E.

Enter GLOSTER and RATCLIFF, L.H.

Glos. A horse! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse.

Rat. This way, this way, my lord- below yon
thicket
66 RICHARD III.
Stands a swift horse-away-ruin pursues us ;
Withdraw, my lord, for only flight can save you
Glos. Slave ! I have set my life upon a cast,
And I will stand the hazard of the die !
[ Exit Rat. L.H.
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.
[ Exit, R.H.

SCENE IX.- Gloster's Camp.

Enter GLOSTER, R.H. and RICHMOND, L.H. meeting.

Glos. Of one or both of us, the time is come.

Rich. Kind heav'n, I thank thee, for my cause is
thine ;
If Richard's fit to live , let Richmond fall.
Glos. Thy gallant bearing, Harry, I could ' plaud,
But that the spotted rebel stains the soldier.
Rich, Nor should thy prowess, Richard, want my
praise,
But that thy cruel deeds have stamp'd thee tyrant !
So thrive my sword, as heav'ns high vengeance
draws it.
Glos. My soul and body on the action both.
Rich. A dreadful lay-here's to decide it.
(Alarums. They fight ; Richard falls .)
Glos. Perdition catch thy arm-the chance is thine,
But oh ! the vast renown thou hast acquir'd,
In conquering Richard, does afflict him more
Than even his body's parting with its soul.
Now let the world no longer be a stage
To feed contention in a lingering act ;
But let one spirit of the first-born Cain
Reign in all bosoms ; that each heart being set
On bloody actions, the rude scene may end,
And darkness be the burier of the dead. (Dies .)
Rich. Farewell , Richard , and from thy dreadful end
May future kings from tyranny be warn'd ;
Had thy aspiring soul but stirr'd in virtue
With halfthe spirit it has dar'd in evil,
 RICHARD 111. 67

How might thy fame have grac'd our English annals !

But, as thou art, how fair a page thou'st blotted?
(A retreat sounded.)
Hark ! the glad trumpet speaks the field our own.

Enter LORD STANLEY, OXFORD, and Soldiers, with

KING RICHARD's Crown, L.H.

Oh, welcome , friends ! my noble father, welcome !

Heav'n and our arms be prais'd, the day is our's ;
See there, my lords, stern Richard is no more.
Stan. Victorious Richmond, well hast thou acquitted
thee !
And see, the just reward that heav'n has sent thee :
Among the glorious spoils of Bosworth-field,
We've found the crown , which now in right is thine :
'Tis doubly thine by conquest and by choice.
Long live Henry the Seventh, king of England !
Rich. Next to just heav'n, my countrymen ,
I owe my thanks to you, whose love I'm proud of,
And ruling well shall speak my gratitude.
But now, my lords, what friends of our's are missing ?
Pray tell me, is young George Stanley living ?
Stan. He is, my liege, and safe in Leicestertown,
Whither, if you please, we may withdraw us.

Enter BLUNT, R.H.

Blunt. My lord, the queen, and fair Elizabeth,

Her beauteous daughter, some few miles off,
Are on their way to 'gratulate your victory.
Rich. Ay, there, indeed, my toil's rewarded.
Let us prepare to meet ' em, lords— and then,
As we're already bound by solemn vows,
We'll twine the roses red and white together,
(They wave the banners.)
And both from one kind stalk shall flourish !
England has long been mad, and scarr'd herself;
The brother blindly shed the brother's blood ;
The father rashly slaughtered his own son ;
The bloody son, compelled, has kill'd his sire.
Oh, now, let Henry and Elizabeth,
68 RICHARD III.
The true successors of each royal house,
Conjoin'd together, heal those deadly wounds !
And be that wretch of all mankind abhorred,
That would renew those bloody days again ;
Ne'er let him live to taste our joy's increase,
That would with treason wound fair England's peace !

Disposition ofthe Characters when the Curtain falls.

ND TR
MO STANL ES
I CH EY.
LIE
R . SE
L.
RD

UTE
FO
OX

NAN
.

T.
NT
BLU

Finis .
.

R.H. CURTAIN. L.H.

W. OXBERRY AND CO . PRINTERS,

9, WHITE-HART- YARD ,
 Orberry's Edition.

ALEXANDER THE GREAT,

A TRAGEDY ;

By Nathaniel Lee,

THE ONLY EDITION EXISTING WHICH IS FAITHFULLY MARKED WITH

THE STAGE BUSINESS, AND STAGE DIRECTIONS,

AS IT IS PERFORMED AT THE

Theatres Royal,

LONDON :

PUBLISHED For the propPRIETORS, BY W. SIMPKIN AND

R. MARSHALL, STATIONERS' COURT, LUDGATE STREET ;
C. CHAPPLE , 66 , PALL - MALL ; AND SOLD BY W. AND
J. LOWNDES, 9, BRYDGES-STREET, COVENT-GARDEN.

1818..
1
 Remarks.

Irhas been thought by an eminent critic, that taste depends upon

fixed principles, and is reducible to a certain standard ; eloquently
as this argument has been urged, we are far from being converts to
it ; that which is the beauty of one country, is not the beauty of
another, nor is there one general exciting cause of pleasurable sen
sations. Habit, and that powerful organ, the association of ideas,
determine in most cases the tendency, as well as quantity of our
feeling; that which being seen for the first time, gives pain, will
never afterwards occur as an object of beauty. We may indeed ad
mire the rich colours of a snake, though a snake has stung us, but
this arises from a long predetermined habit of considering brilliant
colours as beautiful, when properly blended , a habit accompanied
by so many pleasing associations, as to completely overbalance the
single idea of pain. Nor is it difficult to say why brilliancy of
colour is thus delightful, for it is always connected with the idea of
light, and light again is associated with that of buoyant spirits,
and health, and happiness. Why the breath of morning with its
attendant brightness, has this power, is a point not necessary to
the present question ; it is enough for our purpose, that it is so ;
sickness feels more healthy, and health more freshly at the rise of a
new day, and so strongly and intimately is this idea mixed up with
all our feelings, that its corresponding associations are ever most
delicious .
In considering taste, with reference to the drama, the difficul
ties redouble on all sides ; for instance, that will appear farcical
exaggeration to some, which to others is the highest flight of in
spired genius, and that again will seem puerility to one sort of
 iv

mind, which to another looks beautiful simplicity : where then is the

one immutable standard, by which we are to measure our opinions ?
Is it nature? If not, what is it ?-And if it be, how are we to
employ it ?-All do not see nature and her various works , with the
samé eyes ; our modes of perception are as different as our bodies ;
to one sight the tulip is most agreeable, to another the rose ; one
prefers the calm of evening, another the glow of day ; and most
allow that a long continued level is deformity ; yet the plain is as
much the work of nature as the mountain, and consequently, if
nature be the measure of appeal, both are beautiful alike. Again ,
we find the ear of one man is tremblingly alive to harmony, the eye
of another is no less sensitive of external objects, but still they can
not feel together ; there is no common standard to which either
party can refer.
We rest our argument upon these visible and obvious points, to
be the more easily understood, for if we were once to come to the
discussion of mental qualities, which, after all, is the proper mode
of treating the question, it would be entangled in the mazes of
metaphysics, and require more attention than most readers would
be willing to bestow ; nor should we have gone thus far, but to
meet the objections of those who have challenged us with undue
severity, because our sentences have not always kept pace with their
predilections. Still we think as humbly of criticism as any of our
readers can, fully aware that it is neither more nor better than the
servant of poesy, and sometimes a very impudent one, who throws
off his livery, and, upon the strength of a fine coat , assumes the
gentleman, and would dictate to his master. In truth , poesy can
not be judged by rule ; its appeal is to the heart and to the imagi
nation, and whatever affects them, may safely laugh to scorn the
severity of the critic.- Happy that it is so ! -for even sense may
err, and in that error would otherwise destroy ; while ignorance
and malice would crush to earth every blossom of rising genius.
For ourselves, we may sin in ignorance, but never can in malice ;
if our bow be feeble, at least its shafts have not been poisoned : we
have combated what we thought to be wrong with fair weapons ;
neither bribed by friendship to approve, nor by enmity to censure ;
and if sometimes our opinions have been too warmly urged, at least
we have not masked ourselves in the tyranny of dogmatism, but
scrupulously given the principles of our decisions, so that the
reader could never have been deceived. Many are juggled into
ill-opinion of good things, by pointed sentences , and polished ridi
cule : they are appeals to the fancy ; but argument is a cold appli
cation to the understanding, and very rarely leads any one astray ;
for it is always easier to detect the fallacies of reasoning, than of
ridicule or satire .
Of " Alexander the Great," little that is favourable can be said ;
the poetry is of a very ordinary kind,-poor in its phraseology, bar
ren in images, and measured out in one unvarying tune, that is
any thing but good ; and if it were good, would be disagreeable,
from its constant recurrence. That union of different feelings and
different actions, which makes up character, and which occurs so
abundantly in Shakspeare's plays, is not to be found here at all ;
but, perhaps, we shall be better understood by explaining effects
than causes .- Shakspeare presents each of his characters in so many
different points of view, he shows them in such various lights, and
under such opposite relations, that we seem to have had a long and
intimate acquaintance with them , we know them to the very bot
tom of their hearts ; we have learnt the complexion of their most
secret thoughts ; their virtues and vices, their acts and their feel
ings are as familiar to us as the spot of earth on which our infancy
dwelt, and whose several objects seem to have grown up with us.
This acquaintance with their minds and deeds, has made their
forms and faces equally well known to us.-Who not familiar
with the dark eye and curling lip of Iago, or the melancholy,
yet eloquent features of the Prince ofDenmark ? Who does not
see in his mind's eye, the gay Mercutio, or the broken-hearted
Lear ? This is the great charm with Shakspeare ; his characters,
whether good or bad, are all our old acquaintance, in whom we
therefore must feel an interest-not so with LEE- Alexander and
Clytus, and Parisatis, and the rest of the Dramatis Personæ, pass
too rapidly and too indistinctly before us, more like shadows than
substances ; at best they are but the acquaintance of a single half
hour, tolerably agreeable, perhaps, but from the shortness of their
visit, and the monotonous tone of their conversation, we know no
 vi

thing of them. Clytus shows himself a rough soldier, and Alex

ander says he is a hero- that is all-the poet has not gone a step
beyond, and when we allow them so much, his admirers have no
reason to tax us with injustice.
LEE, according to his biographers, was mad ; but his madness was
not the madness of inspiration ; he has done little or nothing in
his tragedy of " Alexander,” that should give it a place on the shelf
with our noble dramatists. His story forced upon him several
situations, that in the hands of a poet would have been exquisitely
beautiful and pathetic. The death of Clytus, dispelling the
fumes of pride and intoxication in Alexander, was a point full
of capabilities ; the very vices of such a character are splendid , for
they are full of energy, and his remorse might surely have been
most touchingly sublime. The anguish of the tender Statira, cut
off from life in the very minute of expected enjoyment, is no less
so ; and perhaps still more the loves of Parisatis and Lysimachus.
But the genius of LEE sunk beneath the burthen :-a disordered
1
imagination is not perforce a powerful one ; on the contrary, it lays
hold on one single idea, on which it dwells, to the exclusion of all
others ; and so with him ; he had no power to go out of himself, to
embody other characters, and just as little to cull and assimilate
the beauties of nature, and apply them to the purposes of the
poesy. Some worthy selections might indeed be made from his
" Alexander the Great ;" but a few shining passages do not make a
play. Perhaps the following lines of the Macedonian hero, upon
the death of Statira, are among the best, if not in truth, the
best :
66 She's gone ! She's gone !
All, all is hush'd !-No music now is heard ;
The roses wither ! and the fragrant breath
That wak'd their sweets, shall never wake ' em more."
A. 5. S. I.

NATHANIEL LEE was the son of Dr. Lee, minister of Hatfield.

He received his first rudiments of learning at Westminster, from
whence he went to Trinity College, Cambridge, where he was ad
mitted on the foundation in 1668. He commenced B. A. the same
year ; but, not succeeding to a fellowship, he tried to push his for
 vii

tune at court. Failing in this attempt, he tried his talents on the

stage ; and, in the year 1672, made his appearance at the Duke's
Theatre, in the character of Duncan, in Davenant's alteration of
" Macbeth." In 1675 his first play appeared. In 1684, on the
11th of November, he was taken to Bedlam, where he continued
four year He had, however, the good fortune to recover the use
of his reason, so far as to be discharged from his melancholy confine
ment ; but he did not long survive his enlargement. Returning one
night through Clare-market, overladen with wine, he fell down on
the ground, as some say ; according to others, on a bulk, and was
killed, or stifled in the snow. He was buried in the parish church
of St. Clement's Danes, aged about thirty-five years. His dra
matic pieces are :—
Nero, Emperor of Rome. T.- Sophonisba ; or, Hannibal's Over
throw. T.- Gloriana ; or, the Court of Augustus Cæsar. T.- The
Rival Queens ; or, the Death of Alexander the Great. T.- Mithri
dates, King of Pontus. T.-Theodosius ; or, the Force of Love. T.
Cæsar Borgia. T.-Lucius Junius Brutus. T.- Constantine the
Great. T.-The Princess of Cleve. T. C.- The Massacre of Paris. T.
Besides the above tragedies, he was concerned with Dryden in
writing the " Duke of Guise, " and " Edipus."
 PROLOGUE.

Written by Sir Carr Scroop, Bart.

How hard the Fate is of the scribling Drudge,

Who writes to all, when yet so few can judge !
Wit, like religion, once divine was thought ;
And the dull crowd believ'd as they were taught ;
Now each fanatick fool presumes t'explain
The text, and does the sacred writ profane :
For while your wits each others fall pursue,
The fops usurp the power belongs to you.
You think y' are challeng'd in each new play- bill ,
And here you come for trial of your skill ;
Where, Fencer like, you one another hurt,
While with your wounds you make the rabble sport.
Others there are that have the brutal will
To murder a poor play, but want the skill.
They love to fight, but seldom have the wit
To spy the place where they may thrust and hit ;
And therefore, like some bully of the town,
Ne'er stand to draw, but knock the poet down.
With these, like hogs in gardens, it succeeds,
They root up all , and know not flowers from weeds.
As for you, sparks, that hither come each day,
To act your own and not to mind our play ;
Rehearse your usual follies to the pit,
And with loud nonsenese drown the stage's wit ;
Talk of your clothes, your last debauches tell,
And witty bargains to each other sell ;
Glout on the silly she, who for your sake
Can vanity and noise for love mistake ;
Till the coquet sung in the next lampoon
Is by her jealous friends sent out of town.
For, in this duelling, intriguing age,
The love you make is like the war you wage :
Y'are still prevented e'er you come t'engage.
But 'tis not to such trifling foes as you,
The mighty Alexander deigns to sue ;
Ye Persians of the pit he does despise,
But to the men of sense for aid he flies ;
On their experienc'd arms he now depends,
Nor fears he odds, if they but prove his friends .
For as he once a little handful chose,
The numerous armies of the world t'oppose,
So back'd by you, who understood the rules,
He hopes to rout the mighty host of fools.
 Costume.

ALEXANDER.
Scarlet velvet robe ; buff and scarlet vest ; buff lambrokeens
flesh legs and arms ; the dress elegantly embroidered and studded
with steel ornaments ; helmet, with laurels.
CLYTUS.
Russet sandals ; flesh legs and arms ; vest and lambrokeens.
CASSANDER.
Ibid.
LYSIMACHUS.
Ibid.
HEPHESTION.
Ibid.
POLYPERCHON.
Ibid.
THESSALUS.
Ibid.
PERDICCAS.
Ibid.
EUMENES.
Ibid.
ARISTANDER.
1bid.
ROXANA.
White cloth dress and robe, richly trimmed with gold.
STATIRA.
White satin dress, with silver border ; leno robe, spangled with
silver.
PARISAIS .
Spangled dress, blue velvet robe ; spangled border.
SYSIGAMBIS .
White satin dress, trimmed with silver ; spangled leno upper
short dress ; orange velvet robe, trimmed with silver.

Ladies and Chorus, in white dresses.

 PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Drury-lane. Covent-garden.
Alexander .... Mr. Kean. Mr. C. Kemble.
Nytus .. Mr. Pope. Mr. Egerton.
Cassander. Mr Bengough . Mr. Barrymore.
Lysimachus ... •• Mr. Wallack. Mr. Abbott.
Hephestion Mr. Barnard. Mr. Connor.
Polyperchon .. Mr. R. Phillips. Mr. Claremont.
Thessalus.... Mr. Coveney. Mr. Chapman.
Perdiccas ....
. Mr. Kent. Mr. J. Matthews.
Eumenes ... Mr. Cooke. Mr. King.
1ristander • Mr. Miller.. Mr. Jefferies.
Slave ..... Mr. Ebsworth. Mr. Norris.
Roxana Mrs. Bartley. Mrs. Egerton.
Statira .. Mrs. Robinson. Mrs. Faucit.
Parisatis . Miss Ivers. Mrs , Capell.
Sysigambis.. Mrs. Brereton. Miss Logan.

The time this piece takes in representation is about two hours

and forty-eight minutes. The first act occupies the space of thirty
minutes—the second, thirty—the third, twenty-eight—the fourth ,
hirty-five-the fifth, forty-five.- Half-price commences, generally,
at a quarter before nine o'clock..

Stage Directions .
By R. H...... .is meant.. Right Hand.
L. H ...... Left Hand.
S. E ...... Second Entrance.
U. E..... Upper Entrance.
M.D...... Middle Door.
D. F ...... .. Door in Flat.
R. H.D .... Right Hand Door,
L.H.D.... • Left Hand Door.
ALEXANDER THE GREAT.

ACT I.

SCENE I.- Alexander's Camp before Babylon .

Enter HEPHESTION and LYSIMACHUS , fighting,

L.H.U.E. CLYTUS parting them .

Cly. What, are you madmen ? This a time for

quarrel ?
Put up, I say, or by the gods that form'd me,
He who refuses, makes a foe of Clytus.
Lys. I have his sword.
Cly. But must not have his life.
Lys. Must not, old Clytus !
Cly. Hair-brain'd boy, you must not.
Heph. Lend me thy sword, thou father of the war,
Thou far- fam'd guard of Alexander's life.
Curse on this weak, unexecuting arm !
Lend it, old Clytus, to redeem my fame ;
Lysimachus is brave, and else will scorn me.
Lys. There, take thy sword, and since thou'rt bent
on death,
Know, ' tis thy glory that thou dy'st by me.
Cly. Stay thee, Lysimachus ; Hephestion, hold ;
I bar you both ; my body interpos'd ;
Now let me see which of you dares to strike.
B
2 ALEXANDER
By Jove, you've stirr'd the old man !—that rash arm
That first advances moves against the gods,
And our great king, whose deputy I stand.
Lys. Some prop'rer time must terminate our quar
rel.
Heph. And cure the bleeding wounds my honour
bears.
Cly. Some prop'rer time ! 'tis false-no hour is
proper ;
No time should see a brave man do amiss .
Say, what's the noble cause of all this madness ?
What vast ambition blows the dangerous fire ?
Why a vain, smiling, whining, coz'ning woman.
By all my triumphs ! in the heat of youth,
When towns were sack'd , and beauties prostrate lay,
When my blood boil'd, and nature work'd me high,
Clytus ne'er bow'd his body to such shame ;
I knew ' em , and despis'd their cobweb arts :
The whole sex is not worth a soldier's thought.
Lys. Our cause of quarrel may to thee seem light ;
But know , less has set the world in arms.
Cly. Yes, Troy, they tell us, by a woman fell :
Curse on the sex, they are the bane of virtue !
Death ! I'd rather this right arm were lost,
Than that the king should hear of your imprudence
What ! on a day thus set apart for triumph !
Lys. We were, indeed, to blame.
Cly. This memorable day !
When our hot master, whose impatient soul
Outrides the sun, and sighs for other worlds
To spread his conquests, and diffuse his glory ;
Now bids the trumpet for awhile be silent,
And plays with monarchs, whom he us'd to drive ;
Shall we, by broils, awake him into rage,
And rouze the lion, that has ceas'd to roar ?
Lys. Clytus, thou'rt right- put up thy sword, He
phestion :
Had passion not eclips'd the light of reason ,
Untold, we might this consequence have seen .
Heph. Why has not reason power to conquer love ?
 THE GREAT. 3
Why are we thus enslav'd ?
Cly. Because unmann'd ;
Because ye follow Alexander's steps .
Heav'ns ! that a face should thus bewitch his soul,
And ruin all that's great and godlike in it.
Talk be my bane, yet the old man must talk ;
Not so he lov'd, when he at Issus fought,
And join'd in mighty combat with Darius,
Whom, from his chariot, flaming all with gems,
He hurl'd to earth, and catch'd th' imperial crown.
"Twas not the shaft of love perform'd that feat ;
He knew no cupids then. Now mark the change
A brace of rival queens embroil the court ;
And, while each hand is thus employ'd in beauty,
Where has he room for glory?
Heph. In his heart.
Cly. Well said, young minion ! -I, indeed, forgot
To whom I spoke-but Sysigambis comes :
Now is your time, for with her comes an idol
That claims your homage-I'll attend the king.
[Exit Clytus, R.H,

Enter SYSIGAMBIS, with a letter, and PARISATIS, L.II.

Sys. Why will you wound me with your fond com

plaints,
And urge a suit that I can never grant ?
You know, my child, ' tis Alexander's will ;
He demands you for his lov'd Hephestion .
To disobey him might inflame his wrath,
And plunge our house in ruins yet unknown .
Par. To soothe this god, and charm him into tem
per,
Is there no victim ; none but Parisatis ?
Must I be doom'd to wretchedness and woe,
That others may enjoy the conqueror's smiles ;
Oh ! if you ever lov'd my royal father
And sure you did, your gushing tears proclaim it
If still his name be dear, have pity on me !
He would not thus have forc'd me to despair ;
B 2
4 ALEXANDER
Indeed he would not.- Had I beg'd him thus,
He would have heard me, e'er my heart was broke.
Sys. When will my suff'rings end ! O when, ye
gods !
For sixty rolling years, iny soul has stood
The dread vicissitudes of fate unmov'd :
I thought ' em your decrees, and therefore yielded.
But this last trial, as it springs from folly,
Exceeds my suff'rance, and I must complain.
Lys. (Lys. advances L.H. Heph. R.H.) When Sysi
gambis mourns, no common woe
Can be the cause-' tis misery, indeed.
Yet, pardon, mighty queen, a wretched prince,
Who thus presumes to plead the cause of love :
Beyond my life, beyond the world, (kneeling) I
prize
Fair Parisatis-Hear me, I conjure you !
As you have authoriz'd Hephestion's vows,
Reject not mine ; grant me but equal leave
To serve the princess, and let love decide.
Heph. A blessing like the beauteous Parisatis
Whole years of service, and the world's wide empire,
With all the blood that circles in our veins,
Can never merit ; therefore, in my favour,
I beg'd the king to interpose his int'rest ;
Therefore, I beg'd your majesty's assistance ;
Your word is pass'd, and all my hopes rest on't.
Lys. (Rising.) Perish such hopes ! for love's a gen'
rous passion,
Which seeks the happiness of her we love,
Beyond th' enjoyment of our own desires ;
Nor kings, nor parents here have ought to do.
Love owns no influence, and disdains control ;
Let ' em stand neuter- 'tis all I ask.
Heph. Such arrogance, did Alexander woo,
Would lose him all the conquests he has won.
Lys. To talk of conquests well becomes the man
Whose life and sword are but his rival's gift.
Sys. It grieves me brave Lysimachus, to find
My power fall short of my desires to serve you ;
 THE GREAT. 5

You know Hephestion first declar'd his love,

And ' tis as true, I promis'd him my aid.
Your glorious king, his mighty advocate,
Became himself an humble suppliant for him.
Forget her, prince, and triumph o'er your passion :
A conquest worthy of a soul like thine.
Lys. Forget her, madam ! sooner shall the sun
Forget to shine, and tumble from his sphere.
Farewell, great queen- my honour now demands
That Alexander should himself explain
That wond'rous merit which exalts his fav'rite,
And casts Lysimachus at such a distance .
[Exit Lysimachus, L.H.
Sys. In this wild transport of ungovern'd passion
Too far, I fear, he will incense the king.
Is Alexander yet, my lord , arriv'd ?
Heph. Madam, I know not, but Cassander comes,
He may, perhaps , inform us.
Sys. I would shun him .
Something there is, I know not why, that shocks me ;
Something my nature shrinks at, when I see him.
[Exeunt R.H.

Enter CASSANder , l.h.

Cas. The face of day now blushes scarlet deep :

Now blackens into night. The low'ring sun,
As if the dreadful business he foreknew,
Drives heavily his sable chariot on.
All nature seems alarm'd for Alexander. -
Why, be it so. Her pangs proclaim my triumph .
A mad Chaldean, with a flaming torch
Came to my bed last night, and bellowing o'er me,
Well had it been, for Babylon , he cried,
If curst Cassander never had been born.

Enter THESSALUS, R.H. with a packet.

How now, dear Thessalus, what packet's that ?

Thes. From Macedon, a trusty slave just brought it.
B3
6 ALEXANDER
Your father chides us for our cold delay ;
He says, Craterus, by the king's appointment,
Comes, in his room, to govern Macedon ,
Which nothing but the tyrant's death can hinder :
Therefore he bids us boldly strike at once,
Or quit our purpose, and confess our fears .
Cas. Is not his fate resolved ?-this night he dies ;
And thus my father but forestalls my purpose.
How am I slow then ? -if I rode on thunder,
Wing'd as the light'ning, it would ask some moments,
Ere I could blast the growth of this Colossus .
Thes. Mark where the haughty Polyperchon comes !
Some new affront by Alexander given,
Swells in his heart, and stings him into madness .
Cas. Now, now's our time ; he must, he shall be
ours :
His haughty soul will kindle at his wrongs,
Blaze into rage, and glory in revenge .

Enter POLYPERCHON, L.H.

Poly. Still as I pass , fresh murmurs fill my ears ;

All talk of wrongs, and mutter their complaints.
Poor soul-less reptiles ! -their revenge expires
In idle threats- the fortitude of cowards !
Their province is to talk ! ' tis mine to act,
And show this tyrant, when he dar'd to wrong me,
He wrong'd a man whose attribute is vengeance.
Cas. All nations bow their heads with servile ho
mage,
And kiss the feet of this exalted man .
The name, the shout, the blast from ev'ry mouth
Is Alexander ! Alexander stuns
The list'ning ear, and drowns the voice of heav'n .
The earth's commanders fawn like crouching spaniels ;
And if this hunter of the barbarous world,
But wind himself a god, all echo him,
With universal cry .
Poly. I fawn, or echo him!
Cassander, no ! my soul disdains the thought !
 THE GREAT.
་
Let eastern slaves, or prostituted Greeks
Crouch at his feet, or tremble if he frown.
When Polyperchon can descend so low,
False to that honour, which thro' fields of death,
I still have courted, where the fight was fiercest,
Be scorn my portion ; infamy my lot.
Thes. The king may doom me to a thousand tor
tures,
Ply me with fire , and rack me like Philotas ,
Ere I shall stoop to idolize his pride .
Cas. Not Aristander, had he rais'd all hell,
Cou'd more have shock'd my soul, than thou hast done,
By the bare mention of Philotas' murder.
O Polyperchon ! how shall I describe it !
Did not your eyes rain blood to see the hero ?
Did not your spirits burst with smother'd vengeance,
To see thy noble fellow- warrior tortur'd ?
Yet, without groaning, or a tear, endure
The torments of the damn'd ? O death to think it !
We saw him bruis'd ; we saw his bones laid bare ;
His veins wide lanc'd, and the poor quiv'ring flesh
With fiery pincers from his bosom torn ;
Till all beheld where the great heart lay panting.
Poly. Yet all like statues stood !-cold, lifeless
statues !
As if the sight had froze us into marble :
When, with collected rage, we should have flown
To instant vengeance on the ruthless cause,
And plung'd a thousand daggers in his heart.
Cas. At our last banquet, when the bowl had gone
The giddy round, and wine inflam'd my spirits ;
I saw Craterus and Hephestion enter
In Persian robes ; to Alexander's health
They largely drank ; and falling at his feet
With impious adoration thus address'd
Their idol god. Hail, son of thund'ring Jove !
Hail, first of kings ! young Ammon live for ever !
Then kiss'd the ground ; on which I laugh'd aloud,
And scoffing, ask'd ' em, why they kiss'd no harder :
Whereon the tyrant, starting from his throne,
Spurn'd me to earth, and stamping on my neck,
8 ALEXANDER
Learn thou to kiss it, was his fierce reply ;
While, with his foot, he press'd me to the earth,
Till I lay welt'ring in a foam of blood .
Poly. Thus when I mock'd the Persians that ador'd
him,
He struck me on the face, swung me around,
And bid his guards chastize me like a slave.
But if he ' scape my vengeance, may he live,
Great as that god whose name he thus profanes,
And, like a slave, may I again be beaten,
Scoff'd as I pass, and branded for a coward.
Cas. There spoke the spirit of Calisthenes :
Remember, he's a man, his flesh as penetrable
As any girl's, and wounded too as soon ;
To give him death no thunders are requir'd .
Struck by a stone, young Jupiter has fall'n,
A sword has pierc'd him, and the blood has followed ;
Nay, we have seen an hundred common ailments
Bring this immortal to the gates of death.
Poly. O let us not delay the glorious business !
Our wrongs are great, and honour calls for vengeance.
Cas. This day exulting Babylon receives
The mighty robber-with him comes Roxana,
Fierce, haughty fair ! On his return from India,
Artful she met him in the height of triumph,
And by a thousand wiles at Susa kept him,
In all the luxury of eastern vels.
Poly. How bore Statira his revolted love ?
For, ifI err not, e'er the king espous'd her,
She made him promise to renounce Roxana.
Thes. No words can paint the anguish it occasion'd ;
E'en Sysigambis wept, while the wrong'd queen
Struck to the heart, fell lifeless on the ground.
Cas. When the first tumult of her grief was laid ,
I sought to fire her into wild revenge ;
And to that end, with all the art I could,
Describ'd his passion for the bright Roxana :
But tho' I could not to my wish inflame her,
Thus far, at least, her jealousy will help ;
She'll give him troubles that perhaps may end him,
 THE GREAT. 9
And set the court in universal uproar.
But see she comes. Our plots begin to ripen.
Now every one disperse,
And, with a face of friendship , meet the king.
[Exeunt, Cas. R.H. Poly, and Thes . L.H.U.E.

Enter SYSIGAMBIS, STATIRA, and PARISATIS, L.H.

Sta. O for a dagger, a draught of poison , flames !

Swell heart, break, break thou wretched stubborn thing.
Now, by the sacred fire, I'll not be held :
Pray give me leave to walk.
Sys. Is there no reverence to my person due ?
Trust me, Statira, had thy father liv'd,
Darius wou'd have heard me.
Sta. O he's false.
This glorious man , this wonder of the world,
Is to his love, and ev'ry god foresworn.
OI have heard him breathe such ardent vows,
Out-weep the morning with his dewy eyes,
And sigh and swear the list'ning stars away.
Sys. Believe not rumour, ' tis impossible.
Thy Alexander is renown'd for truth ;
Above deceit
Sta. Away, and let me die.
Why, Alexander, why would'st thou deceive me !
Have I not kiss'd thy wounds with dying fondness,
Bath'd ' em in tears, and bound ' em with my hair !
Par. If man can thus renounce the solemn ties
Of sacred love, who wou'd regard his vows ?
Sta. Regard his vows, the monster, traitor ! Oh !
I will forsake the haunts of men, converse
No more with aught that's human ; dwell with dark
ness ;
For since the sight of him is now unwelcome,
What has the world to give Statira joy?
Yet I must tell thee, perjur'd as he is,
Not the soft breezes of the genial spring,
The fragrant violet, or op'ning rose,
10 ALEXANDER
Are half so sweet as Alexander's breath :
Then he will talk-good gods how he will talk !
He speaks the kindest words, and looks such things,
Vows with such passion, and swears with such a grace,
That it is heav'n to be deluded by him. (Crosses to R.H. )
Sys. Her sorrows must have way.
Sta. Roxana then enjoys my perjur'd love ;
Roxana clasps my monarch in her arms,
Doats on my conqu'ror, my dear lord, my king.
Oh ' tis too much ! by heav'n I cannot bear it !
I'll die, or rid me of the burning torture.
Hear me, bright god of day, hear ev'ry god.
Sys. Take heed, Statira ; weigh it well, my child,
Ere desperate love enforces you to swear.
Sta. O fear not that, already have I weigh'd it ;
And in the presence here of heav'n and you,
Renounce all converse with perfidious man.
Farewell ye cozeners of our easy sex !
And thou the falsest of the faithless kind,
Farewell for ever ! Oh, farewell ! farewell !
If I but mention him the tears will flow.
How cou'dst thou, cruel, wrong a heart like mine,
Thus fond, thus doting, ev'n to madness, on thee !
Sys. Clear up thy griefs, thy Alexander comes,
Triumphant in the spoils of conquer'd India ;
This day the hero enters Babylon.
Sta. Why, let him come : all eyes will gaze with
rapture.
All hearts will joy to see the victor pass,
All but the wretched the forlorn Statira.
(Crosses to centre.)
Sys. Wilt thou not see him then ?
Sta. I swear, and heav'n be witness to my vow,
(Kneels .)
Never from this sad hour, never to see,
Nor speak, no, nor, if possible, to think
Of Alexander more : this is my vow,
And when I break it
Sys. Do not ruin all !
 THE GREAT . 11

Sta. May I again be perjured and deluded !

May furies rend my heart ! may lightnings blast me !
Sys. Recal, my child, the dreadful imprecation.
Sta. No, I will publish it through all the court ;
Then to the bow'rs of great Semiramis ,
Retire for ever from the treacherous world.
There from man's sight will I conceal my woes,
And seek in solitude a calm repose :
Nor pray'rs nor tears, shall my resolves controul,
Nor love itself, that tyrant of the soul. [Exeunt, L.H.

END OF ACT I.

ACT II.

SCENE I -A triumphal Arch at the Entrance

into Babylon.

Enter ALEXANDER in a Triumphal Car ; Trophies

and warlike Ensigns in procession before him ;
CLYTUS, HEPHESTION, LYSIMACHUS, CASSANDER,
POLYPERCHON , THESSALUS, EUMENES, Chorus of
Priests, Youths and Virgins, Guards, and Atten
dants.

See the conq'ring hero comes,

Sound the trumpets, beat the drums ;
Sports prepare, the laurel bring,
Songs of triumph to him sing.

See the godlike youth advance;

Breath the flute, and lead the dance ;
Myrtles wreath, and roses twine,
To deck the hero's brow divine.
12 ALEXANDER

Heph. Hail, son of Jove ! great Alexander, hail !

Alex. Rise all ; and thou, my second self, my friend!
Oh my Hephestion ! raise thee from the earth !
Come to my arms, and hide thee in my heart ;
Nearer, yet nearer, else thou lov'st me not.
Heph. Not love my king ! bear witness all ye
powers,
And let your thunder nail me to the centre,
If sacred friendship ever burn'd more brightly !
Immortal bosoms can alone admit
A flame more pure, more permanent than mine.
Alex. Thou dearer to me than my groves of laurel !
I know thou lov'st thy Alexander more,
Than Clytus does the king.
Lys. Now for my fate !
I see that death awaits me-yet I'll on.
Dread sir, I cast me at your royal feet.
Alex. Rise, my Lysimachus ; thy veins and mine
From the same fountain have deriv'd their streams.
Rise to my arms, and let thy king embrace thee.
Is not that Clytus ?
Cly. Your old faithful soldier.
Alex. Clytus, thy hand ; thy hand, Lysimachus ;
Thus double-arm'd, methinks ,
I stand tremendous as the Lybian god,
Who, while his priests and I quaff'd sacred blood,
Acknowledg'd me his son ; my lightning thou,
And thou, my mighty thunder. I have seen
Thy glitt'ring sword out-fly celestial fire ;
And, when I've cry'd, begone, and execute,
I've seen him run swifter than starting hinds,
Nor bent the tender grass beneath his feet.
Lys. When fame invites, and Alexander leads,
Dangers and toils but animate the brave.
Cly. Perish the soldier, inglorious and despis'd,
Who starts from either, when the king cries-on !
Alex. Oh, Clytus ! Oh, my noble veteran !
'Twas, I remember, when I pass'd the Granicus,
Thy arm preserv'd me from unequal force ;
 THE GREAT. 13
When fierce Itanor and the bold Rhesaces,
Fell both upon me with two mighty blows,
And clove my temper'd helmet quite asunder ;
Then, like a god, flew Clytus to my aid ;
Thy thunder struck Rhesaces to the ground,
And turn'd with ready vengeance, on Itanor.
Cly. To your own deeds that victory you owe,
And sure your arms did never boast a nobler.
Alex. By heav'n, they never did : they never can :
And I am prouder to have pass'd that stream ,
Than to have driven a million o'er the plain :
Can none remember ? —Yes, I know all must—
When glory, like the dazzling eagle stood
Perch'd on my beaver in the Granic flood ;
When fortune's self my standard trembling bore,
And the pale fates stood frighted on the shore ;
When each immortal on the billows rode,
And I myself appear'd the leading god.

Enter ARISTANDER, L.H.

Aris. Haste, first of hero's, from this fatal place ;

Far, far from Babylon, enjoy your triumph,
Or all the glories, which your youth has won,
Are blasted in their spring.
Alex. What mean thy fears ?
And why that wild distraction on thy brow ?
Aris. This morn, great king, I view'd the angry sky,
And, frighted at the direful prodigies,
To Orosmades for instruction flew ;
But, as I pray'd, deep- echoing groans I heard,
And shrieks, as of the damn'd that howl for sin.
Shock'd at the omen, while amaz'd I lay
In prostrate rev'rence on the trembling floor,
Thus spoke the god :
The brightest glory of imperial man,
The pride of nations, and the boast of fame,
Remorseless fate, in Babylon , has doom'd
To sudden and irrevocable ruin.
14 ALEXANDER
Alex. If heav'n ordains that Babylon must fall,
Can I prevent the immutable decree ?

Enter PERDICCAS, L.H.

Per. Oh, horror ! horror ! Dreadful and porten

tous !
Alex. How now, Perdiecas ! Whence this exclama
tion ?
Per. As Meleager and myself, this morn,
Led forth the Persian horse to exercise,
We heard a noise as of a rushing wind ;
When suddenly a flight of baleful birds,
Like a thick cloud, obscur'd the face of heav'n ;
On sounding wings from diff'rent parts they flew,
Encount'ring met, and battled in the air ;
Their talons clash'd, their beaks gave mighty blows,
And show'rs of blood fell copious from their wounds.
Alex. Though all the curtains of the sky were
drawn,
And the stars wink, young Ammon shall go on ;
While my Statira shines, I cannot stray,
Love lifts his torch to light me on my way,
And her bright eyes create another day.
Lys. Vouchsafe, dread sir, to hear my humble suit,
A prince intreats it, and what's more, your kinsman .
Alex. A soldier asks it ; that's the noblest claim.
Lys. For all the services my sword has done,
Humbly I beg the princess Parisatis.
Alex. Lysimachus, no more- it is not well
My word, you know, is to Hephestion given :
How dare you then- but let me hear no more on't.
Lys. At your command, to scale th' embattled wall,
Or fetch the gore-dy'd standard from the foe,
When has Hephestion flown with warmer zeal ?
When did he leave Lysimachus behind ?
These I have done, for these were in my pow'r ;
But when you charge me to renounce my love,
And from my thoughts to banish Parisatis,
 THE GREAT. 15
Obedience there becomes impossible ;
Nature revolts, and my whole soul rebels.
Alex. It does, brave sir !-now hear me, and be
dumb !
When, by my order, curst Calisthenes
Was as a traitor, doom'd to live in torments
Your pity sped him in despite of me.
Think not I have forgot your insolence ;
No ; though I pardon'd it : -yet, if again
Thou dar'st to cross me with another crime,
The bolts of fury shall be doubled on thee.
In the mean time-think not of Parisatis ;
For if thou dost-by the immortal Ammon !
I'll not regard that blood of mine thou shar❜st,
But use thee as the vilest Macedonian.
Lys. I knew you partial, ere I mov'd my suit ;
Yet, know, it shakes not my determin'd purpose ;
While I have life and strength to wield a sword,
I never will forego the glorious claim .
Alex. Against my life !-ha ! traitor, was it so ?
'Tis said, that I am rash, of hasty humour ;
But I appeal to the immortal gods,
If ever petty, poor, provincial lord
Had temper like to mine ? My slave, whom I
Could tread to clay, dares utter bloody threats.
Cly. Forgive dread sir, the frantic warmth of love :
The noble prince, I read it in his eyes,
Wou'd die a thousand deaths to serve his king,
And justify his loyalty and truth.
Lys. I meant his minion there should feel my arm ,
Love claims his blood, nor shall he live to triumph
In that destruction that awaits his rival.
Alex. I pardon thee, for my old Clytus ' sake ;
But if once more thou mention thy rash love,
Or dar'st attempt Hephestion's precious life,
I'll pour such storms of indignation on thee,
Philota's rack, Calisthenes' disgrace,
Shall be delights, to what thou shalt endure
Cly. My lord, the aged queen, with Parisatis,
Come to congratulate your safe arrival.
C2
16 ALEXANDER

Enter SYSIGAMBIS and PARISATIS, L.H.

Alex. Oh, thou, the best of women, Sysigambis,

Source of my joy, blest parent of my love!
Sys. In humble duty to the gods and you,
Permit us, sir, with gratitude to bow.
Through you the royal house of Persia shines,
Rais'd from the depth of wretchedness and ruin,
In all the splendour of imperial greatness.
Alex. To meet me thus, was generously done ;
But still there wants, to crown my happiness,
That treasure of my soul, my dear Statira :
Had she but come to meet her Alexander,
I had been blest indeed.
Cly. Now who shall dare
To tell him of the queen's vow ?
Alex. How fares
My love ?-Ha ! neither answer me ! all silent !
A sudden horror, like a bolt of ice,
Shoots to my heart, and numbs the seat of life.
Heph. I would relate it, but my courage fails me.
Alex. Why stand you all as you were rooted here ?
What, will none answer ? my Hephestion silent ?
If thou hast any love for Alexander ;
If ever I obliged thee by my care ;
When through the field of death my eye has watch'd
thee,
Resolve my doubts, and rescue me from madness.
Heph. Your mourning queen has no disease but
grief,
Occasioned by the jealous pangs of love.
She heard, dread sir, (for what can 'scape a lover)
That you, regardless of your vows, at Susa,
Had to Roxana's charms resign'd your heart,
And revell'd in the joys you once forswore.
Alex. I own, the subtle sorceress, in my riot,
My reason gone, seduc'd me to her bed ;
But, when I wak'd, I shook the Circe off;
Nor griev'd I less for that which I had done,
 THE GREAT. 17
Than when at Thais' suit, enrag'd with wine,
I set the fam'd Persepolis on fire.
Heph. Your queen Statira, in the rage of grief,
And agony of desp'rate love, has sworn,
Never to see your majesty again.
Alex. Oh, madam, has she, has Statira sworn
Never to see her Alexander more ?
Par. With sorrow, sir, I heard the solemn vow ;
My mother heard it, and in vain adjur'd her,
By every tender motive, to recall it.
Sys. But with that fierceness she resents her wrongs,
Dwells on your fault , and heightens the offence,
That I could wish your majesty forget her.
Alex. Ha, could you wish me to forget Statira ?
The star which brightens Alexander's life,
His guide by day, and goddess of his nights !
I feel her now ; she beats in every pulse,
Throbs at my heart, and circles with my blood.
Sys. Have patience, sir, and trust to heav'n and me ;
If my authority has any influence,
I will exert it, and she shall be yours.
Alex. Haste, madam, haste, if you would have me
live ;
Fly, ere, for ever, she abjure the world,
And stop the sad procession . [Exit Sysigambis, L.H.]
Parisatis,
Hang thou about her ; wash her feet with tears,
Nay, haste ; the breath of gods and eloquence,
Of angels, go along with you. [ Exit Parisatis, L.H.
Oh, my heart !
Lys. Now let your majesty, who feels the pangs
Of disappointed love, reflect on mine.
Alex. Ha !
Cly. What, are you mad ? Is this a time to plead ?
Lys. The prop'rest time ; he dares not now be par
tial,
Lest heav'n, in justice, should avenge my wrongs,
And double ev'ry pang which he feels now.
Alex. Why dost thou tempt me thus to thy undoing ?
Death thou shouldst have, were it not courted so :
c3
18 ALEXANDER
But, know, to thy confusion, that my word,
Like destiny, admits of no repeal :
"Therefore, in chains, shalt thou behold the nuptials
Of my Hephestion. Guards, take him prisoner.
(The Guards sieze Lysimachus.)
Lys. Away, ye slaves, I'll not resign my sword,
Till first I've drench'd it in my rival's blood.
Alex. I charge you kill him not ; take him alive :
The dignity of kings is now concern'd,
And I will find a way to tame this rebel.
Cly. Kneel-for I see rage lightning in his eyes.
Lys. I neither hope, nor will I sue for pardon ;
Had I my sword and liberty again,
Again I would attempt his favourite's heart.
Alex. Hence, from my sight, and bear him to a
dungeon .
Perdiccas, give this lion to a lion. -
None speak for him ; fly ; stop his mouth, away.
[ Exeunt Lysimachus, Perdiccas, and Guards, L.H.
Cly. This comes of women- the result of love.
Yet were I heated now with wine, I doubt
I should be preaching in this fool's behalf.
Alex. Come hither, Clytus, and my friend Hephestion;
Lend me your arms ; for I am sick o ' the sudden.
I fear, betwixt Statira's cruel vows,
And fond Roxana's arts, your king will fall.
Cly. Better the race of women were destroyed,
And Persia sunk in everlasting ruin.
Heph. Look up, my lord, and bend not thus your
head,
As ifyou purpos'd to forsake the world,
Which you have greatly won.
Alex. Wou'd I had not ;
There's no true joy in such unwieldy fortune.
Eternal gazers lasting troubles make ;
All find my spots, but few observe my brightness.
Stand from about me all, and give me air !
(They retire.)
Yes, I will shake this Cupid from my soul ;
I'll fright the feeble god with wars alarms,
Or drown his pow'r in floods of hostile blood.
 THE GREAT. 19
Grant me, great Mars, once more in arms to shine,
And break, like light'ning, through the embattl'd line ;
O'er fields of death to whirl the rapid car,
And blaze amidst the thunder of the war,
Resistless as the bolt that rends the grove ;
Or greatly perish, like the son of Jove. [Exeunt, R.H.

END OF ACT II.

ACT III.

SCENE I.- A Square before the Palace.

Trumpets sounding a dead march. LYSIMACHUS led

Prisoner, PARISATIS, EUMENES, PERDICCAS, and
Guards, R.H.

Par. Stay, my Lysimachus ! a moment stay !

Oh, whither art thou going ?-hold a moment !
Unkind ! thou know'st my life was wrapt in thine,
Why would'st thou then to worse than death expose
me ?
Lys. Oh, may'st thou live in joys without allay !
Grant it, ye gods ! a better fortune waits thee ;
Live and enjoy it-' tis my dying wish ;
While to the grave the lost Lysimachus
Alone retires, and bids the world adieu.
Par. Even in that grave will Parisatis join thee ;
Yes, cruel man ! not death itself shall part us ;
A mother's pow'r, a sister's soft'ning tears,
With allthe fury of a tyrant's frown,
Shall not compel me to outlive thy loss.
Lys. Were I to live till nature's self decay'd,
This wond'rous waste of unexampled love
I never could repay-Oh, Parisatis !
Thy charms might fire a coward into courage ;
How must they act, then, on a soul like mine ?
Defenceless, and unarm'd, I fight for thee,
20 ALEXANDER
And may, perhaps, compel th' astonish'd world,
And force the king to own that I deserve thee.
Eumenes, take the princess to thy charge :
Away, Perdiccas, all my soul's on fire.
[Exeunt, Parisatis and Perdiccas, R.H. Lysi
machus and Guards, L.H.

SCENE II -A Pavillion,

Enter ROXANA and Cassander, r.h.

Rox. Deserted ! saidst thou ? for a girl abandon'd !

A puny girl, made up of watʼry elements !
Shall she embrace the god of my desires,
And triumph in the heart Roxana claims ?
IfI forget it, may'st thou , Jove, deprive me
Of vengeance, make me the most wretched thing
On earth, while living, and when dead, the lowest
And blackest of the fiends !
Cas. Oh, nobly said !
Just is the vengeance which inflames your soul ;
Your wrongs demand it but let reason govern ;
This wild rage, else, may disappoint your aims.
Rox. Away, away, and give a whirlwind room ;
Pride, indignation, fury, and contempt,
War in my breast, and torture me to madness !
Cas. Oh, think not I would check your boldest
flights ;
No- I approve ' em, and will aid your vengeance .
But, princess, let us choose the safest course,
Or we may give our foes new cause of triumph, 9
Should they discover, and prevent our purpose . t :
Rox. Fear not, Cassander, nothing shall prevent it ;
Roxana dooms him , and her voice is fate...
My soul, from childhood, has aspir'd to empire ;\
In early non-age I was us'd to reign
Among my she- companions : I despis'd
The trifling arts, and little wiles of women,
And taught ' em, with an Amazonian spirit,
 THE GREAT. 21
To wind the steed, to chase the foaming boar,
And conquer man, the lawless, charter'd savage.
(Crosses to R.H.)
Cas. Her words, her looks, her every motion fires
me !
Rox. But when I heard of Alexander's fame,
How, with a handful, he had vanquish'd millions,
Spoil'd all the East, and captive held our queens ;
While, like a god, unconquer'd by their charms,
With heav'nly pity he assuag'd their woes,
Dry'd up their tears, and sooth'd them into peace ;
I hung attentive on my father's lips,
And wish'd him tell the wond'rous tale again.
No longer pleasing were my former sports ;
Love had its turn, and all the woman reign'd.
Involuntary sighs heav'd in my breast,
And glowing blushes crimson'd on my cheek ;
E'en in my slumbers I have often mourn'd
In plaintive sounds, and murmur'd Alexander.
Cas. Curse on his name !-she doats upon him still.
Rox. At length this conqueror to Zogdia came,
And, cover'd o'er with laurels, storm'd the city :
But, Oh, Cassander ! where shall I find words
To paint the extatic transports of my soul!
When, midst a circle of unrivall'd beauties,
I saw myself distinguish'd by the hero !
With artless rapture I receiv'd his vows,
The warmest, sure, that ever lover breath'd,
Offervent love, and everlasting truth.
Cas. And need you then be told, those times are
past ?
Statira now engrosses all his thoughts :
The Persian queen, without a rival, reigns
Sole mistress of his heart- nor can thy charms,
The brightest, sure, that ever woman boasted,
Nor all his vows of everlasting love,
Secure Roxana from disdain and insult.
Rox. Oh, thou hast rous'd the lion in my soul !
Ha ! shall the daughter of Darius hold him ?
No, ' tis resolv'd ; I will resume my sphere,
22 ALEXANDER
Or, falling, spread a general ruin round me,
Roxana and Statira ; they are names
That must for ever jar, like clashing clouds,
When they encounter, thunders must ensue.
(Crosses to L.H. )
Cas. Behold, she comes, in all the pomp of sorrow,
Determin'd to fulfil her solemn vow ! (They retire.)
Rox. Away, and let us mark th' important scene.

Enter STATIRA and SYSIGAMBIS, R.H..

Sys. Oh, my Statira, how has passion chang'd thee !

Think, in the rage of disappointed love,
If treated thus, and hurried to extremes,
What Alexander may denounce against us ;
Against the poor remains of lost Darius.
Sta. Oh, fear not that ! I know he will be kind,
For my sake kind, to you and Parisatis :
Tell him, I rail'd not at his falsehood to me,
But with my parting breath spoke kindly of him ;
Tell him I wept at our divided loves,
And, sighing, sent a last forgiveness to him.
Sys. No, I can ne'er again presume to meet him ,
Never approach the much-wrong'd Alexander,
If thou refuse to see him- Oh, Statira!
Thy aged mother, and thy weeping country,
Claim thy regard, and challenge thy compassion :
Hear us, my child, and lift us from despair.
Sta. Thus low, I cast me at your royal feet,
To bathe them with my tears ; or, if you please,
I'll let out life, and wash ' em with my blood.
But I conjure you not to rack my soul,
Nor hurry my wild thoughts to perfect madness :
Should now Darius' awful ghost appear
And you, my mother, stand beseeching by,
I would persist to death, and keep my vow.
Rox. This fortitude of soul compels my wonder.
1 (Aside. )
Sys. Hence, from my sight ! ungrateful wretch,
begone !
 THE GREAT. 23
And hide thee where bright virtue never shone ;
For, in the sight of heaven, I here renounce,
And cast thee off an alien to my blood.
[ Exeunt Sys. R.H. Cas. L.H.
Rox. (Advancing. ) Forgive, great queen , th ' intru
sion of a stranger;
With grief Roxana sees Statira weep ;
I've heard, and much applaud your fix'd resolve,
To quit the world for Alexander's sake ;
And yet I fear, so greatly he adores you,
That he will rather choose to die of sorrow,
Than live for the despis'd Roxana's charms .
Sta. Spare, madam, spare your counterfeited fears ;
You knowyour beauty, and have prov'd its pow'r ;
Tho' humbly born, have you not captive held,
In love's soft chains, the conq'ror of the world ?
Away to libertines, and boast thy conquest ;
A shameful conquest ! -In his hours of riot,
When wine prevail'd, and virtue lost its influence,
Then, only then, Roxana could surprise
My Alexander's heart.
Rox. Affected girl,
To some romantic grove's sequester'd gloom
Thy sickly virtue wou'd, it seems, retire,
To shun the triumphs of a favour'd rival.
In vain thou fliest-for there, ev'n there I'll haunt thee ;
Plague thee all day, and torture thee all night :
There shalt thou learn, in what extatic joys
Roxana revels with the first of men ;
And, as thou hear'st the rapt'rous scene recited,
With frantic jealousy thou'lt madly curse
Thy own weak charms, that could not fix the rover.
Sta. How weak is woman ! at the storm she shrinks,
Dreads the drawn sword, and trembles at the thunder ;
Yet, when strong jealousy inflames her soul,
The sword may glitter, and the tempest roar,
She scorns the danger, and provokes her fate.
Rival, I thank thee--Thou hast fir'd my soul,
And rais'd a storm beyond thy pow'r to lay ;
24 ALEXANDER
Soon shalt thou tremble at the dire effects,
And curse, too late, the folly that undid thee.
(Crosses to L.H. )
Rox. Sure the disdain'd Statira dares not mean it.
Sta. By all my hopes of happiness I dare :
And know, proud woman, what a mother's threats,
A sister's sighs, and Alexander's tears,
Could not effect, thy rival rage has done.
I'll see the king, in spite of all I swore,
Though curs'd, that thou may'st never see him more.

Enter ALEXANDER, HEPHESTION, CLYTUS, POLYPER

CHON, THESSALUS, and EUMENES, L.h.

Alex. Oh, my Statira ! thou relentless fair !

Turn thine eyes on me -I would talk to them.
What shall I say to work upon thy soul ?
What words, what looks, can melt thee to forgiveness ?
Sta. Talk of Roxana, and the conquer'd Indies,
Thy great adventures, thy successful love,
And I will listen to the rapt'rous tale ; •
But rather shun me, shun a desperate wretch,
'Resign'd to sorrow, and eternal woe.
Alex. Oh! I could die, with transport, die before
thee ;
Would'st thou but, as I lay convuls'd in death,
Cast a kind look, or drop a tender tear.
Rox. Am I then fall'n so low in thy esteem ,
That for another thou would'st rather die,
Than live for me?-How am I alter'd, tell me,
Since last at Susa, with repeated oaths,
You swore the conquest of the world afforded
Less joy, less glory, than Roxana's love ?
Alex. Take, take that conquer'd world, dispose of
crowns ,
And canton out the empires of the globe ;
But leave me, madam, with repentant tears, !
And undissembled sorrows , to atone
The wrongs I've offer'd to this injur'd excellence.
 THE GREAT. 25
Rox. Yes, I will go, ungrateful as thou art!
Bane to my life, and murd'rer of my peace,
I will be gone ; this last disdain has cur'd me
But have a care-I warn you not to trust me ;
Or, by the gods, that witness to thy perjuries,
I'll raise a fire that shall consume you both,
Tho' I partake the ruin. [Exit Roxana, L.H. '
Sta. Alexander ! -Oh, is it possible ?
Immortal gods ! can guilt appear so lovely ?
Yet, yet I pardon, I forgive thee all.
Alex. Forgive me all ! Oh, catch the heavenly
sounds,
Catch ' em, ye winds, and, as you fly, disperse
The rapt'rous tidings through the extended world,
That all may share in Alexander's joy!
Sta. Yes, dear deceiver, I forgive thee all,
But longer dare not hear thy charming tongue ;
For while I hear thee, my resolves give way:
Be therefore quick, and take thy last farewell ;
Farewell, my love- Eternally farewell !
Alex. Go, then, inhuman, triumph in my pains ,
Feed on the pangs that rend this wretched heart ;
For now ' tis plain you never lov'd.— Statira ! —
Oh, I could sound that charming, cruel name,
Till the tir'd echo faint with repetition.
Oh stay, my Statira ! (Kneels.)
I swear, my queen, I'll not outlive our parting :
My soul grows still as death. -Say, wilt thou pardon : ----
"Tis all I ask ;-wilt thou forgive the transports
Of a deep-wounded heart, and all is well?
Sta. Rise ; and may heav'n forgive you, like Statira !
Alex. Youaretoo gracious-Clytus, bear me hence.
When I am laid i' th' earth, yield her the world.
There's something here, that heaves as cold as ice,
That stops my breath.- Farewell, farewell for ever !
Sta. Hold off, and let me run into his arms :
My life, my love, my lord, my Alexander !
If thy Statira's love can give thee joy,
Revive, and be immortal as the gods.
D
 26 ALEXANDER
Alex. Oh, let me press thee in my eager arms,
And strain thee hard to my transported breast !
Sta. But shall Roxana
Alex. Let her not be nam'd.
Oh, how shall I repay you for this goodness ?
And you, my fellow warriors, who could grieve
For your lost king ? But talk of griefs no more ;
The banquet waits, and I invite you all ;
My equals in the throne, as in the grave,
Without distinction come, and share my joys.
Cly. Excuse me, sir, if I for once am absent.
Alex. Excuse thee, Clytus ! None shall be excus'd.
All revel out the day, ' tis my command ;
Gay as the Persian god, ourself will stand,
With a crown'd goblet in our lifted hand ;
Young Ammon and Statira shall go round,
While antic measures beat the burthen'd ground,
And to the vaulted skies our trumpet's clangors sound .
[Flourish of trumpets, and exeunt, L.H.

END OF ACT III.

ACT IV.

SCENE I -A Square before the Palace.

Enter CLYTUS, HEPHESTION, and PERDICCAS, L.H.

Cly. Urge me no more ; I hate the Persian dress :

Nor should the king be angry at the rev'rence
I owe my country-sacred are her customs,
And honest Clytus will to death observe ' em.
Oh! let me rot in Macedonian , rags,
Or, like Calisthenes, be cag'd for life,
Rather than shine in fashions of the east.
Per. Let me, brave Clytus, as a friend entreat you.
 THE GREAT. 27
Heph. What virtue is there that adorns a throne,
Exalts the heart, and dignifies the man,
Which shines not brightly in our royal master ?
And yet perversely you'll oppose his will,
And thwart an innocent unhurtful humour.
Cly. Unhurtful! Oh ! ' tis monstrous affectation,
Pregnant with venom, in its nature black,
And not to be excus'd !-Shall man, weak man,
Exact the rev'rence which we pay to heaven,
And bid his fellow- creatures kneel before him,
And yet be innocent ? Hephestion, no ;
The pride that lays a claim to adoration ,
Insults our reason, and provokes the gods.
Per. Yet what was Jove, the god whom we adore?
Was he not once a man, and rais'd to heaven
For gen'rous acts, and virtues more than human ?
Heph. By all his thunder, and his sov'reign pow'r,
I'll not believe the world yet ever felt
An arm like Alexander's-Not that god
You nam'd, though riding in å car of fire,
Could in a shorter space do greater deeds ;
Or more effectually have taught mankind
To bend submissive, and confess his sway.
Cly. I tell you, boy, that Clytus loves the king
As well as you, or any soldier here,
Yet I disdain to sooth his growing pride ;
The hero charms me, but the god offends.
Heph. Then go not to the banquet.
Cly. Why, I was bid,
Young minion, was I not, as well as you ?
I'll go, my friends, in this old habit, thus,
And laugh, and drink the king's health heartily ;
And while you, blushing, bow your heads to earth,
And hide them in the dust,-I'll stand erect,
Straight as a spear, the pillar of my country,
And be by so much nearer the gods .
Heph. But see, the king appears.

D 2
28 ALEXANDER

EnterALEXANDER, STATIRA, THESSALUS, and Guards,

R.H. PARISATIS and EUMENES L.H.

Par. Oh, gracious monarch !

Spare him, Oh, spare Lysimachus his life !
I know you will- the brave delight in mercy.
Alex. Shield me, Statira, shield me from her sorrows.
Par. Save him, Oh, save him, ere it be too late !
Speak the kind word, let not your soldier perish
For one rash action, by despair occasion'd.
I'll follow thus for ever on my knees ;
You shall not pass . Statira, Oh, intreat him !
Alex. Oh, madam ! take her, take her from about
me;
Her streaming eyes assail my very soul,
And shake my best resolves.
Sta. Did I not break
Through all for you ? Nay, now, my lord, you must.
By all th' obedience I have paid you long,
By all your passion, sighs, and tender looks,
Oh, save a prince, whose only crime is love !
I had not join'd in this bold suit, my lord,
But that it adds new lustre to your honour.
Alex. Honour ! what's that ? Has not Statira said
it?
Fly, Clytus, snatch him from the jaws of death,
And to the royal banquet bring him straight ;
Bring him in triumph, fit for loads of honour.
[Exeunt Clytus, Hephestion, and Parisatis, L.H.
Sta. Why are you thus beyond expression kind ?
Oh, my lov❜d lord ! my fond, my raptur'd heart,
By gratitude and love at once inflam'd,
With wild emotion flutters in my breast ;
Oh, teach it, then, instruct it how to thank you!
Alex. Excellent woman !
"Tis not in nature to support such joy.
Sta. Go, my best love ; unbend you at the banquet ;
Indulge in joy, and laugh your cares away;
While, in the bowers of great Semiramis,
 THE GREAT. 29
I dress your bed with all the sweets of nature,
And crown it, as the altar of our loves ;
Where I will lay me down, and softly mourn,
But never close my eyes till you return.
[Exit Statira, R.H.
Alex. Is she not more than mortal can desire !
As Venus lovely, and as Dian chaste !
And yet, I know not why, our parting shocks me ;
A ghastly paleness sat upon her brow ;
Her voice, like dying echoes, fainter grew ;
And, as I wrung her by the rosy fingers,
Methought the strings of my great heart were crack'd .
What could it mean ? Forward Laomedon.

Enter ROXANA, CASSANDER, and POLYPERCHON, l.h.

Why, madam, gaze you thus ?

Rox. For a last look,
And to imprint the memory of my wrongs ;
Roxana's wrongs, on Alexander's mind.
Alex. On to the banquet.
[Exeunt Alexander and his train, L.H.
Rox. Ha! with such disdain !
So unconcern'd ! Oh , I could tear myself,
Him, you, and all the hateful world to atoms !
Cas. Still keep this spirit up, preserve it still,
And know us for your friends. We like your rage ;
"Tis lovely in you, and your wrong's require it..
Here, in the sight of heaven, Cassander swears,
Unaw'd by death, to second your revenge.
Speak but the word, and, swift as thought can fly,
The tyrant falls a victim to your fury.
Rox. Shall be, then, die? Shall I consent to kill
him?
I, that have lov'd him with that eager fondness,
Shall I consent to have him basely murder'd,
And see him clasp'd in the cold arms of death ?
Worlds should not tempt me to the deed of horror.
Poly. The weak fond scruples of your love might
pass, *
D 3
30 ALEXANDER
Were not the empire of the world concern'd :
But, madam, think, when time shall teach his tongue,
How will the glorious infant, which you bear,
Arraign his partial mother, for refusing
To fix him on the throne, which here we offer ?
Cas. If Alexander lives, you cannot reign, I
Nor will your child. Old Sysigambis plans
Your sure destruction . Boldly then prevent her;
Give but the word, and Alexander dies.
Poly. Not he alone ; the Persian race shall bleed :
Atyour command, one universal ruin
Shall, like a deluge, whelm the eastern world,
Till gloriously we raise you to the throne.
Rox. But, till the mighty ruin be accomplish'd,
Where can Roxana fly th' avenging wrath
Of those who must succeed this godlike man?
Cas. Would you vouchsafe in these expanded arms
To seek a refuge, what could hurt you here
Here you might reign, with undiminish'd lustre,
Queen of the East, and empress of my soul,
Rox. Disgrac'd Roxana ! whither art thou fallen ?
Till this curs'd hour I never was unhappy ;
There's not one mark of former majesty
To awe the slave that offers at my honour.
Cas. Impute not, madam, my unbounded passion
To want of rev'rence-I have lov'd you long.
Rox. Peace, villain, peace, and let me hear no
more.
Think'st thou I'd leave the bosom of a god,
And stoop to thee, thou moving piece of earth?
Hence, from my sight, and never more presume
To meet my eyes ; for, mark me, if thou dar'st,
To Alexander I'll unfold thy treason ;
Whose life, in spite of all his wrongs to me,
Shall still be sacred, and above thy malice.
Cas. (Kneels.) By your own life, the greatest oath,
I swear,
Cassander's passion from this hour is dumb ;
And, as the best atonement I can make,
Statira dies, the victim of your vengeance
 THE GREAT.
Ror. Cassander, rise ; ' tis ample expiation .
Yes, rival, yes ; this night shall be thy last ;
This night, I know, is destin'd for thy triumph,
And gives my Alexander to thy arms.
Oh, murd'rous thought!
Poly. The bow'rs of great Semiramis are made
The scene of love ; Perdiccas holds the guard.
Cas. Now is your time, when Alexander revels,
And the whole court re-echoes with his riot,
To end her, and with her to end your fears.
Give me but half the Zogdian slaves that wait you,
And deen her dead : nor shall a soul escape
That serves your rival, to disperse the news.
Rox. By me they die, Perdiccas and Statira ;
Hence with thy aid, I neither ask nor want it ;
But will myself conduct the slaves to battle.
Were she to fall by any arm but mine,
Well might she murmur, and arraign her stars.
Rival, rejoice, and , pleas'd, resign thy breath,
Roxana's vengeance grants thee noble death.
[Exit Roxana, L.H.
Cas. All but her Jove, this Semele disdains.
We must be quick-She may, perhaps, betray
The great design, and frustrate our revenge.
Poly. Has Philip got instruction how to act ?
Cas. He has, my friend ; and, faithful to our cause,
Resolves to execute the fatal order.
Bear him this phial ; it contains a poison
Of that exalted force, that deadly nature,
Should Esculapius drink it, in an hour,
For then it works, the god himself were mortal ;
I drew it from Nonacri's horrid spring :
Mix'd with his wine, a single drop gives death,
And sends him howling to the shades below.
Poly. I know its power, for I have seen it try'd ;
Pains of all sorts through every nerve and artery
At once it scatters ; burns at once and freezes ;
Till, by extremity of torture forc'd,
The soul consent to leave her joyless home,
And seek for ease in worlds unknown to this.
32 ALEXANDER
Cas. Now let us part -with Thessalus and Philip
Haste to the banquet ; at his second call
Let this be given him, and it crowns our hopes.
8
[Exit Polyperchon, L.H.
Now, Alexander, now we shall be quits ;
Death for a blow is interest indeed. [Exit, R.H.

SCENE II.- The Palace.

ALEXANDER POLYPERCHON, CASSANDER, THESSALUS,

EUMENES, Guards, &c. discovered at a Banquet.
Aflourish of Trumpets, Drums, &c.

Alex. To our immortal health, and our fair queen's !

All drink it deep ; and, while the bowl goes round,
Mars and Bellona join to make us music ;
A hundred bulls be offer'd to the sun,
White as his beams ; speak the big voice of war ;
Strike all our drums, and sound our silver trumpets ;
Provoke the gods to follow our example
In bowls of nectar, and replying thunder.
(Flourish of trumpets, drums, &c.)

Enter CLYTUS, HEPHESTION , and LYSIMACHUS,

bloody, L.H.

Cly. Long live the king; long live great Alexander ;

And conquest crown his arms with deathless laurels,
Propitious to his friends, and all he favours !
Alex. Did I not give command you should preserve
Lysimachus ?
Heph. Dread sir, you did.
Alex. What then
Portend these bloody marks?
Heph. Ere we arriv'd,
Perdiccas had already plae'd the prince
In a lone court, all but his hands unarm'd.
Cly. On them were gauntlets ; such was his desire,
In death to shew the difference betwixt
The blood of Eacus, and common men.
 THE GREAT. 33
Forth issuing from his den, amaz'd we saw
The horrid savage, with whose hideous roar
The palace shook ; his angry eye -balls glaring
With triple fury, menac'd death and ruin.
Heph. With unconcern, the gallant prince ad
vanc'd ;
Now, Parisatis, be the glory thine,
But mine the danger, were his only words ;
For, as he spoke, the furious beast descried him,
And rush'd, outrageous, to devour his prey.
Cly. Agile and vigorous, he avoids the shock
With a slight wound ; and, as the lion turn'd,
Thrust gauntlet, arm, and all, into his throat,
And, with Herculean strength, tears forth his tongue ;
Foaming and bloody, the disabled savage
Sunk to the earth, and plough'd it with his teeth ;
While, with an active bound, your conqu'ring soldier
Leap'd on his back, and dash'd his scull in pieces.
Alex. By all my laurels, 'twas a godlike act ;
And 'tis my glory, as it shall be thine,
That Alexander could not pardon thee.
Oh, my brave soldier, think not all the pray'rs
And tears of the lamenting queens could move me
Like what thou hast perform'd ! Grow to my breast.
Lys. Thus, self-condemn'd, and conscious of my
guilt,
How shall I stand such unexampled goodness
Oh, pardon, sir, the transports of despair,
The frantic outrage of ungovern'd love!'
E'en when I show'd the greatest want of reverence,
I could have died with rapture in your service.
Alex. Lysimachus, we both have been transported ;
But, from this hour, be certain of my heart.
A lion be the impress of thy shield ;
And that gold armour we from Porus won,
Thy king presents thee- But thy wounds ask rest.
Lys. I have no wounds, dread sir ; or, if I had,
Were they all mortal, they should stream unminded,
When Alexander was the glorious health.
 34 ALEXANDER
Alex. Thy hand, Hephestion. Clasp him to thy
heart,
And wear him ever near thee . Parisatis
Shall now be his who serves me best in war.
Neither reply- but mark the charge I give
Live, live as friends ; you will, you must, you shall ; —
"Tis a god gives you life.
Cly. Oh, monstrous vanity !
Alex. Ha ! what says Clytus ? who am I?
Cly. The son
Of good king Philip .
Alex. By my kindred gods ,
'Tis false -great Ammon gave me birth.
. Cly. I've done .
Alex. Clytus, what means that dress ? Give him a
robe there.
Take it, and wear it.
Cly. Sir, the wine, the weather
Has heated me ; besides, you know my humour.
Alex. Oh ! ' tis not well ! I'd rather perish, burn,
Than be so singular and froward.
Cly. So would I
Burn, hang, or drown ; but in a better cause.
I'll drink, or fight, for sacred majesty
With any here. Fill me another bowl.
Will you excuse me ?
Alex. You will be excus'd.
But let him have his humour ; he is old.
Cly. So was your father, sir ; this to his mem'ry !
Sound all the trumpets there.
Alex They shall not sound
Till the king drinks. Sure, I was born to wage
Eternal war ! -All are my enemies,
1 Whom I could tame-But let the sports go on.
Lys. Nay, Clytus, you that could advise so well
Alex. Let him persist, be positive, and proud,
Envious and sullen ' mongst the nobler souls,
Like an infernal spirit that hath stol❜n
From hell, and mingled with the mirth of gods.
 THE GREAT. 35
Cly. When gods grow hot, no difference, I know
"Twixt them and devils- Fill me Greek wine : yet,
Yet fuller ; I want spirits.
Alex. Let me have music.
Clu. Music for boys- Clytus would hear the groans
Of dying soldiers, and the neigh of steeds ;
Or, if I must be pester'd with shrill sounds,
Give me the cries of matrons in sack'd towns.
Heph. Let us, Lysimachus, awake the king ;
A heavy gloom is gathering on his brow.
Kneel all, with humblest adoration, kneel,
And let a health to Jove's great son go round.
Alex. Sound, sound, that all the universe may
hear.
Oh, for the voice of Jove ! the world should know
(A loud flourish of Trumpets .)
The kindness of my people. -Rise, Oh, rise !
My hands, my arms, my heart, are ever your's.
Cly. I did not kiss the earth , nor must your hand ;
I am unworthy, sir.
Alex. Thou art, indeed !—
Thou enviest the great honour of thy master
Sit, all my friends- Now let us talk of war ;
The noblest subject for a soldier's mouth ;
And speak, speak freely, else you love me not ;
Who, think you, was the greatest general
That ever led an army to the field ?
Heph. A chief so great, so fortunately brave,
And justly so renown'd as Alexander,
The radiant sun, since first his beams gave light,
Never yet saw.
Lys. Such was not Cyrus, nor the fam'd Alcides,
Nor great Achilles, whose tempestuous sword
Laid Troy in ashes, though the warring gods
Oppos'd him.
Alex. Oh, you flatter me ! you flatter me !
Cly. They do, indeed ; and yet you love ' em for't,
But hate old Clytus for his hardy virtue.
Come, shall I speak a man, with equal bravery,
A better general,. and experter soldier ?
36 ALEXANDER
Alex. Instruct me, sir ; I should be glad to learn.
Cly. Your father, Philip.-I have seen him march,
And fought beneath his dreadful banner, where
The boldest at this table would have trembled.
Nay, frown not, sir, you cannot look me dead.
When Greeks join'd Greeks, then was the tug of war,
The labour'd battle sweat, and conquest bled.
Why should I fear to speak a bolder truth,
Than e'er the lying priests of Ammon told you ?
Philip fought men, but Alexander, women.
Alex. Proud spite, and burning envy, by the gods !
Is then my glory come to this at last,
To conquer women ! Nay, he said, the stoutest,
The stoutest here would tremble at his dangers.
In all the sickness, all the wounds, I bore,
When, from my reins, the javelin's head was cut,
Lysimachus, Hephestion, speak, Perdiccas,
Did I once tremble ? -Oh, the cursed falsehood !—
Did I once shake or groan ? or act beneath
The dauntless resolution of a king?
Lys. Wine has transported him.
Alex. No, ' tis meer malice
I was a woman too, at Oxydrace,
When, planting on the walls a scaling ladder,
I mounted, spite of show'rs of stones, bars, arrows,
And all the lumber which they thunder'd down ;
When you, beneath, cried out, and spread your arms,
That I should leap among you did I so ?
Lys. Dread sir, the old man knows not what he says.
Alex. Was I a woman, when, like Mercury,
I leap'd the walls, and flew amidst the foe,
And, like a baited lion, dy'd myself
All over in the blood of those bold hunters ;
Till, spent with toil, I battled on my knees,
Pluck'd forth the darts that made my shield à forest,
And hurl'd ' em back with most unconquer'd fury ?
Then, shining in my arms, I sunn'd the field,
Mov'd, spoke, and fought, and was myself a war.
Cly. "Twas all bravado ; for, before you leap'd,
You saw that I had burst the gates asunder.
 THE GREAT. 37
Alex. Oh, that thou wert but young again, and
vigorous,
That I might strike thee prostrate to the earth
For this audacious lie, thou feeble dotard !
Cly. I know the reason why you use me thus.
I sav'd you from the sword of bold Rhesaces,
Else had your godship slumber'd in the dust ;
And most ungratefully you hate me for it.
Alex. Hence from the banquet !-Thus far I forgive
thee.
Cly. First try, for none can want forgiveness more,
To have your own bold blasphemies forgiven,
The shameful riots of a vicious life,
Philotas' murder
Alex. Ha ! what said the traitor ?
Heph. Clytus, withdraw ; Eumenes, force him
hence.
Cly. No, let him send me, if I must begone,
To Philip, Attalus, Calisthenes,
To great Parmenio, and his slaughter'd sons.
Alex. Give me a javelin.
Lys. Hold, mighty sir.
Alex. Sirrah ! Off,
Lest I at once strike through his heart and thine.
Begone to Philip, Attalus, Calisthenes ; ( Stabs him.)
And let bold subjects learn , by thy example,
Not to provoke the patience of their prince . ( Clytus falls.
Cly. The rage of wine is drown'd in gushing blood.
Oh, Alexander ! I have been to blame ;
Hate me not after death ; for I repent,
That I so far have urg'd your noble nature.
Alex. What's this I hear ! Say on, my dying soldier.
Cly. I shou'd have kill'd myself, had I but liv'd
To be once sober ; but now I fall with honour ;
My own hands wou'd have brought foul death. Oh,
pardon. (Dies.)
Alex. Then I am lost ! What has my vengeance
done !
Who is it thou hast slain ? Clytus ! -what was he ?
The faithfullest subject, worthiest counsellor,
E
38 ALEXANDER
The bravest soldier ! He who sav'd thy life,
Fighting bare-headed at the river Granick ;
For a rash word, spoke in the heat of wine,
The poor, the honest Clytus thou hast slain ;
Clytus, thy friend, thy guardian, thy preserver !
Heph. Remove the body, it inflames his sorrow.
Alex. None dare touch him ; we must never part.
Cruel Hephestion and Lysimachus,
That had the power, yet wou'd not hold me !-Oh !
Lys. Dear sir, we did.
Alex. I know ye did ; ye held me
Like a wild beast, to let me go again
With greater violence. -Oh, ye've undone me !
Excuse it not, you that cou'd stop a lion, (To Lys.)
Cou'd not turn me?-ye should have drawn your swords,
And barr'd my rage with their advancing points ;
Made reason glitter in my dazzled eyes,
Till I had seen the precipice before me :
That had been noble, that had shewn the friend.
Clytus wou'd so have done to save your lives.
Lys. When men shall hear how highly you were
urg'd
Alex. No ; you have let me stain my rising glory,
Which else had ended brighter than the sun.
Oh, I am all a blot, which seas of tears,
And my heart's blood, can never wash away ;
Yet 'tis but just I try, and on the point,
Still reeking, hurl my black polluted breast .
Heph. Oh, sacred sir- it shall not- must not be.
Lys. Forgive, dread sir, forgive my pious hands,
That dare, in duty, to disarm my master.
Alex. Yes, cruel men, ye now can shew your
strength ;
Here's not a slave, but dares oppose my justice,
Yet none had courage to prevent this murder.
But I will render all endeavours vain,
That tend to save my life-Here will I lie,
Close to my murder'd soldier's bleeding side,
Thus clasping his cold body in my arms,
Till death has clos'd my eyes, like his, for ever.
(Throws himself on the body of Clytus.)
 THE GREAT. 39

Enter PERDICCAS, R.H.

Per. Treason ! foul treason ! Hephestion, where's

the king ?
Heph. There, by old Clytus' side, whom he hath
slain.
Per. Rise, sacred sir, and haste to save the queen :
Roxana, fill'd with furious jealousy,
Came with a guard, unmark'd : she gain'd the bow'r,
And broke upon me with such sudden fury,
That all have perish'd who oppos'd her rage.
Alex. What says Perdiccas ? Is the queen in danger ?
Per. Haste, sir, to your Statira, or she dies.
Alex. Thus from the grave I rise to save her life.
All draw your swords, on wings of lightning move,
Young Ammon leads you, and the cause is love ;
When I rush on, sure none will dare to stay ;
'Tis beauty calls, and glory leads the way.
(Flourish of Trumpets, Drums , &c.) - [Exeunt, R.H.

END OF ACT IV.

1

ACT V.

SCENE I.- The Gardens of Semiramis.

STATIRA discovered asleep, on a Sopha.

Sta. Bless me, ye pow'rs above, and guard my virtue !

Where are you fled, dear shades ? Where are you fled ?
'Twas but a dream ; and yet I saw and heard
My royal parents, who, while pious care
Sat on their faded cheeks, pronounc'd with tears,
Tears such as angels weep, this hour my last.
E2
40 ALEXANDER
But hence with fear-my Alexander comes,
And fear and danger ever fled from him.
My Alexander !-Wou'd that he were here!
For Oh, I tremble, and a thousand terrors
Rush in upon me, and alarm my heart.
1
(Distant flourish of Trumpets.)
But hark, ' tis he, and all my fears are fled ;
Mylife, my joy, my Alexander comes.
Rox. (Within.) Make fast the gate with all its
massy bars ;
At length we've conquer'd this stupendous height,
And reach'd the grove .
Sta. Ye guardian gods, defend me !
Roxana's voice ! Then all the vision's true,
And die I must.

Enter ROXANA, L.H.

Rox. Secure the brazen gate .

Where is my rival ? ' tis Roxana calls .
Sta. And what is she, who, with such tow'ring pride,
Wou'd awe a princess that is born above her ?
Rox. Behold this dagger !-'Tis thy fate, Statira !
Behold, and meet it as becomes a queen .
Fain wou'd I find thee worthy of my vengeance ;
Here, take my weapon then ; and, if thou dar'st
Sta. How little know'st thou what Statira dares !
Yes, cruel woman ! yes, I dare meet death
With a resolve, at which thy coward heart
Wou'd shrink ; for terror haunts the guilty mind ;
While conscious innocence, that knows no fear,
Can smiling pass, and scorn thy idle threats.
Rox. Return, fair insolent ! return , I say.
Dar'st thou, presumptuous, to invade my rights ?
Restore him quickly to my longing arms,
And with him give me back his broken vows,
For perjur'd as he is, he still is mine,
Or I will rend him from thy bleeding heart.
Sta . Alas, Roxana, ' tis not in my power ;
I cannot if I would- And, oh, ye gods, .44
 THE GREAT. 41
What were the world to Alexander's loss !
Rox. Oh, sorceress, to thy accursed charms
I owe the frenzy that distracts my soul ;
To them I owe my Alexander's loss.
Too late thou tremblest at my just revenge,
My wrongs cry out, and vengeance will have way.
(Holds up the dagger.)
Sta. Hold, hold, thy threat'ning hand advanc'd
in air.
I read my sentence written in thy eyes :
Yet, Oh, Roxana , on thy black revenge
One kindly ray of female pity beam ,
And give me death in Alexander's presence .
Rox. Not for the world's wide empire should'st thou
see him.
Fool ! but for him thou might'st unheeded live ;
For his sake only art thou doom'd to die.
The sole remaining joy that glads my soul,
Is to deprive thee of the heart I've lost.
(Flourish of Trumpets.)

Enter a Slave, L.H.

Slave. Madam, the king and all his guards are come ;
With frantic rage they thunder at the gate,
And must, ere this, have gain'd admittance.
[Exit Slave, L.H.
Rox. Ha!
Too long I've trifled ; let me then redeem
The time mispent, and make great vengeance sure.
Sta. Is Alexander, Oh, ye gods, so nigh,
And can he not preserve me from her fury ?
Rox. Nor he, nor heav'n, shall shield thee from my
justice.
Die, sorc'ress, die, and all my wrongs die with thee.
(Stabs her.)
Alex. (Without.) Away, ye slaves, stand off !
Quick let me fly
On lightning's wings ;-nor heav'n nor earth, shall
stop me.
E3
42 ALEXANDER

Enter ALEXANDER, LYSIMACHUS, CASSANDER, Per

DICCAS, THESSALUS, Officers, and Guards, L.H.

Ha !-Oh , my soul, my queen, my love, Statira !

These wounds ! are these my promis'd joys ?
Sta. Alas !
My only love, my best and dearest blessing,
Wou'd I had died before you enter'd here ;
For thus delighted, while I gaze upon thee,
Death grows more horrid, and I'm loth to leave thee.
Alex. Thou shalt not leave me- Cruel, cruel stars !
Oh, where's the monster, where's the horrid fiend,
That struck at innocence, and murder'd thee ?
Rox. Behold the wretch, who, desperate of thy love,
In jealous madness gave the fatal blow.
Alex. To dungeons, tortures, drag her from my sight.
Sta. My soul is on the wing. Spare
Roxana's life.-'Twas love of you that caused
The death she gave me. And, Oh, sometimes think,
Amidst your revels, think on your poor queen ;
And, ere the chearful bowl salute your lips,
Enrich it with a tear, and I am happy. (Dies .)
Alex. Yet, ere thou tak'st thy flight- She's gone,
she's gone !
All, all is hush'd ; no music now is heard ;
The roses wither ; and the fragrant breath
That wak'd their sweets, shall never wake'em more.
Rox. Weep not, my lord ! no sorrow can recall her.
Oh, turn your eyes, and, in Roxana's arms,
You'll find fond love and everlasting truth.
Alex. Hence, from my sight, and thank my dear
Stavira,
That yet thou art alive.
Rox. Yes, thus I'll fasten on your sacred robe ;
Thus, on my knees, for ever cling around you,
Till you forgive me, or till death divide us.
Alex. Hence, fury, hence : there's not a glance of
thine,
But, like a basilisk, comes wing'd with death .
 THE GREAT. 43
Rox. Oh, speak not thus, to one who kneels for
mercy.
Think, for whose sake it was I madly plung'd
Into a crime abhorrent to my nature.
Alex. Off, murd'ress, off ! for ever shun my sight !
My eyes detest thee, for thy soul is ruin .
Rox. Barbarian ! yes, I will for ever shun thee,
Repeated injuries have steel'd my heart,
And I cou'd curse myself for being kind.
Ifthere is any majesty above,
That has revenge in store for perjur'd love,
Send, heav'n, the swiftest ruin on his head !
Strike the destroyer ! lay the victor dead !
But what are curses ? Curses will not kill,
Nor ease the tortures I am doom'd to feel.
1
[Exit Roxana, L.H.
Alex. Oh, my fair star, I shall be shortly with thee !
What means this deadly dew upon my forehead ?
My heart too heaves !
Cas. The poison works !

Enter EUMENES, L.H.

Eume. Pardon, dread sir, a fatal messenger.

The royal Sysigambis is no more.
Struck with the horror of Statira's fate ,
She soon expir'd, and, with her latest breath,
Left Parisatis to Lysimachus.
But what, I fear, most deeply will affect you,
Your lov'd Hephestion's
Alex. Dead ! then he is bless'd !
But here, here lies my fate. Hephestion ! Clytus !
My victories all for ever folded up
In this dear body. Here my banner's lost,
My standard's triumphs gone.-Oh, when, Oh, when,
Shall I be mad indeed ?
[Exeunt all but Cassander and Thessalus, L.H.
Cas. He's gone- but whither ?-follow, Thessalus,
Attend his steps, and let me know what passes .
[Exeunt Thessalus, L.H. and Cassander, R.H.
44 ALEXANDER

SCENE II.- An Antichamber in the Palace.

Enter CASSANder , r.h.

Cas. Vengeance, lie still, thy cravings shall be sated .

Death roams at large, the furies are unchain'd,
And murder plays her mighty master-piece.

Enter POLYPERCHON, L.H.

Saw you the king ? He parted hence this moment.

Poly. Yes ; with disorder'd wildness in his looks,
He rush'd along, till, with a casual glance,
He saw me where I stood ; then stopping short,
Draw near, he cried-and grasp'd my hand in his,
Where more than fevers rag'd in ev'ry vein.
Oh, Polyperchon ! I have lost my queen !
Statira's dead !—and, as he spoke, the tears
Gush'd from his eyes-I more than felt his pains.

Enter THESSAlus, l.h.

Thes. Hence, hence, away !

Cas. Where is he, Thessalus ?
Thes. I left him circled by a crowd of princes,
The poison tears him with that height of horror,
E'en I could pity him-he call'd the chiefs ;
Embrac'd ' em round-then, starting from amidst ' em ,
Cried out, I come-'Twas Ammon's voice ; I know it,
Father, I come ; but, let me, ere I go,
Dispatch the business of a kneeling world.
Poly. No more-I hear him-we must meet anon.
Cas. In Saturn's field- there give a loose to rapture,
Enjoy the tempest we ourselves have rais'd,
And triumph in the wreck which crowns our ven
geance. [Exeunt Cas . R.H, Poly, and Thes. L.H.
 THE GREAT . 45

SCENE III.- The Palace.

ALEXANDER , LYSIMACHUS , EUMENES , PERDICCAS,

Officers, Guards, and Attendants, discovered.

Alex. Search there ; nay, probe me ; search my

wounded reins
Pull, draw it out.
Lys. We have search'd, but find no hurt.
Alex. Oh, I am shot ! -a forked, burning arrow
Sticks ' cross my shoulders ; the sad venom flies,
Like light'ning thro' my flesh, my blood, my marrow.
Lys. How fierce his fever !
Alex. Ha ! what a change of torments I endure !
A bolt of ice runs hissing through my bowels ;
"Tis, sure, the arm of death. Give me a chair ;
Cover me, for I freeze, and my teeth chatter,
And my knees knock together.
Eume. Have mercy, heav'n !
Alex. Who talks of heav'n ?
I burn, I burn again ;
The war grows wond'rous hot ; -hey for the Tygris !
Bear me, Bucephalus, amongst the billows
Oh, ' tis a noble beast ; I wou'd not change him
For the best horse the sun has in his stable ;
For they are hot, their mangers full of coals ;
Their manes are flakes of light'ning, curls of fire ;
And their red tails, like meteors , whisk about.
Lys. Help, all ! Eumenes help.
Alex. Ha ha ! ha ! I shall die with laughter.
Parmenio, Clytus, do you see yon fellow,
That ragged soldier, that poor tatter'd Greek ?
See how he puts to flight the gaudy Persians,
With nothing but a rusty helmet on, through which
The grisly bristles of his pushing beard
Drive ' em like pikes- ha ! ha ! ha !
Per. How wild he talks !
Lys. Yet warring in his wildness.
46 ALEXANDER
Alex. Sound, sound ! keep your ranks close ; aye,
now they come.
Oh, the brave din, the noblest clank of arms !
Charge, charge apace ; and let the phalanx move ;
Darius comes-aye, ' tis Darius :
I see, I know him by the sparkling plumes ,
And his gold chariot, drawn by ten white horses :
But, like a tempest, thus I pour upon him
He bleeds ; with that last blow I brought him down :
He tumbles, take him, snatch the imperial crown.
They fly, they fly ; follow, follow : Victoria,
Victoria, Victoria- (Throws himself into the arms of
the Soldiers.)
Per. Let's bear him softly to his bed.
Alex. Hold ; the least motion gives me sudden
death ;
My vital spirits are quite parch'd, burnt up,
And all my smoky entrails turn'd to ashes.
Lys. When you, the brightest star that ever shone,
Shall set, it must be night with us for ever.
Alex. Let me embrace you all, before I die.
Weep not, my dear companions ; the good gods
Shall send ye in my stead a nobler prince,
"One that shall lead ye forth with matchless conduct.
Lys. Break not our hearts with such unkind expres
sions.
Per. We will not part with you, nor change for
Mars.
Alex. Perdiccas, take this ring,
And see me laid in the temple of Jupiter Ammon .
Lys. To whom does your dread majesty bequeath
The empire of the world ?
Alev. To him that is most worthy..
Per. When will you, sacred sir, that we should give
Το your great memory, those divine honours
Which such exalted virtue does deserve ?
Alex When you are all most happy, and in peace.
Your hands- Oh, father, if I have discharg'd
The duty of a man to empire born ;
If, by unwearied toil, I have deserv'd
 THE GREAT.
47
The vast renown of thy adopted son,
Accept this soul which thou didst first inspire,
And which this sigh thus gives thee back again.
(Dies .- Curtain falls to slow music. )

Disposition of the Characters when the Curtain falls .

ER
A ND PE
L EX n h e
g
RD
A , (o t round) IC
CA
US

S,
CH
MA

EUM
SI

ENE
LY

S.
Finis.

R.H. CURTAIN. L.H

 EPILOGUE

SPOKEN BY ROXANA.

ARRAIGN'D for murder-lo ! I stand before ye,

But ere you pass my sentence, hear my story.
What passive woman, were she in my place,
Cou'd brook such usage ? Horrible disgrace !
To kiss the saucy minx before my face ;
Hang on her neck, and sigh, and swear, and bellow
Oh, I've not patience with the filthy fellow.
What, tho' one world my hero deem'd deficient,
One wife for any hero's sure sufficient.
You must allow 'twou'd any mortal vex
To lose the only comfort of one's sex.
Her nuptial right- which of you all wou'd share it ?
And half a husband- Gods ! what wife cou'd bear it?

ale
But what, still worse than all the rest, provokes me,
To think his crowns and sceptres e'er cou'd coax me.
Let all the empire of the world's wide span
Be her's-but not an atom of my man.
Methinks I hear each wedded fair-one cry,
Well done, Roxana- -she deserv'd to die.
What Christian wife cou'd bear such double-dealing ?
And, sure, your heathen women have their feeling,
Two wives !-'Tis matrimonial fornication :
Pray heav'n avert such customs from this nation !
By such, let Eastern wives be bubbled still ;
Two wives ! for shame ! two husbands if you will.
Aye, this, indeed, might suit a free-born woman,
Besides, our beaus-poor things !-are not like Ammon .
While thus you plead, this inference let me draw,
Nature is love's great universal law.
All feel alike what some disguise with art,
And each wrong'd wife's Roxana in her heart.
If none of you cou'd tamely yield her man,
Then find me guilty, ladies, if you can.

W. OXBERRY AND CO. PRINTERS,

8, WHITE-HART-YARD, DRURY - LANE, LONDON.
 Orberry's Edition .

OTHELLO .

A TRAGEDY,

By William Shakspeare.

WITH PREFATORY REMARKS.

THE ONLY EDITION EXISTING WHICH IS FAITHFULLY MARKED WITH

THE STAGE BUSINESS, AND STAGE DIRections,

AS IT IS PERFORMED AT THE

Theatres Royal.

BY W. OXBERRY, Comedian.

LONDON:

PUBLISHED FOR THE PROPRIETORS , BYW. SIMPKIN, AND

R. MARSHALL, STATIONERS' COURT, LUDGATE STREET,
AND C. CHAPPLE, 66, PALL MALL.

1819
W. OXBERRY, AND CO. PRINTERS,
8, WHITE HART YARD .
 Remarks .

OTHELLO.

THIS Tragedy requires less peculiar comment than any of Shak

'speare's Plays ; it is indeed beautiful, but its beauties are of a kind
the most obvious to the common reader ; though highly poetical,
its excellence does not consist in its poetry ; it is pure passion ; its
beauty is almost lost in its reality and grandeur ; it resembles
athunderstorm, which awes by its magnificence of terror ; in fact,
it is grand beyond loveliness ; the word beauty might as well be
applied to the terrors of an earthquake, or the heights of the
Andes. 1

There are some subjects and some feelings, which are wholly
poetical, and offer no point for the contact and sympathy of the
common mind ; such are the exquisite fairy scenes in " Midsummer's
Night's Dream ," and the enchantment in the " Tempest ;" they are
the visions of another world, not the reality of this ; Othello, on the
contrary, is a faithful portrait of the life with which we are daily
and hourly conversant ; love and jealousy are passions, which all
men, with few exceptions, have at some time felt ; the imitation of
them, therefore, finds an immediate sympathy in every mind ;
Othello, has no feelings that we should not ourselves have in his
situation.
The dark and desperate villainy of Iago, however, carried to
excess, has yet no want of external motives, which, besides
acquiring a double force from the character of the man, a reckless
and sweeping selfishness is the principal feature in Iago's mind ;
and this becomes increased in action, from the utter brutality of his
a 2
 iv.

nature ; he loves evil as others love good ; he has a natural thirst

for blood, an instinctive delight in the pain of others ; daring, rest
less, and subtle, he has every quality requisite to the accomplish
ment of his purpose ; his art, indeed, is matchless, and his evil
propensities seem only greater than is usual with the evil from the
superior powers of his mind, to execute his will ; he has five differ
ent characters to wo upon, Othello, Desdemona, Roderigo,
Cassio, Montano, all of whom he reads as clearly as if their several
natures were written on their foreheads, and all of whom he de
ceives with unequalled dexterity ; yet, under his many assumed
appearances, his genuine character is unaltered and visible ; the
grossness and malignity of his temper burst forth on all occasions ;
thus when Roderigo talks of the incorruptible chastity of Desde
mona, he replies, " She must change for youth ; when she is sated
with his body, she must find the error of her choice." Again in the
dialogue with Cassio ; " He hath not yet made wanton the night with
her; and she is sport for Jove."
Cassio. She's a most exquisite lady.
Iago. And I'll warrant her, full of game.
Cassio. Indeed, she's a most fresh and delicate creature.
lago. What an eye she has ! Methinks it sounds a parley of pro
vocation.
Cassio. An inviting eye ; and yet methinks right modest.
Iago. And when she speaks, is it not an alarm to love ?
Cassio. She is, indeed, perfection. a. 2, s. 3.
Even in the presence of Desdemona, he uses the same language.
Desdemona is a being so pure and tender, that her hypocrisy to
her father and subsequent flight are scarcely consistent with her
general character, but perhaps a sufficient reason for this may be
found in her unbounded passion for the Moor, which almost ap
proaches to adoration. The scene immediately before her death in
which she expresses her feelings of disquiet to Emilia, is eminently
beautiful ; throughout it is tender and touching in the highest
degree ; it is the song of death, but of such exquisite beauty as to
make us in love with sorrow. The repose and pathos of this dia
logue, acquire a double charm from its situation, for it is the last
time we see her before her dying scene, to which by contrast it
lends a deeper and more fearful colouring ; it has all the calm
horror ofthe pause which precedes the tempest.
 V.

Emilia has the common vices and common virtues of the world ;
she may rather be said to have no principles than bad principles,
and is a very tolerable specimen of mankind in general ; she is
guilty of petty vices without remorse, because they are familiar,
and shrinks from crime, because it is unusual ; she is , in fact, one 1
of those instruments which knavery employs to work its ends, and
which would excite abhorrence, but that abhorrence is lost in our
contempt ; the introduction of this character, is a proof of the
profound insight into human nature, which forms the great praise of
our immortal poet.
If perfection exist in any human production, it is to be found in
King Lear, and the third act of this Tragedy, in either of which it
would be difficult to find out a single point for censure ; they are
both of that exceeding excellence, which renders hope hopeless,
and competition useless.

a3
 Time of Representation.

The time this piece takes in representation is about three hours

and a half. The first act occupies the space of forty minutes.
The second, forty one- the third, fifty-two-the fourth, thirty-
and the fifth, thirty- five minutes,-The half-price commences, ge
nerally, at a quarter after nine o'clock.

Stage Directions.
By R.H... .is meant..... Right Hand.
L.H. Left Hand.
S.E. .. Second Entrance.
U.E. Upper Entrance.
M.D. Middle Door.
D.F. .... Door in Flat.
R.H.D. ...... ... Right Hand Door. 1
L.H.D. ... Left Hand Door.
1
1
1
 Costume.

OTHELLO.
A green velvet fly, scarlet vest, and white muslin trowsers, yel
low morocco boots, copper- coloured corset and pantaloons, cestus,
rich turban, and sarsnet cloth robe.
CASSIO AND IAGO.
Blue fly jacket with hanging sleeves, scarlet under jacket, white
pantaloons, blue silk sash , and the whole richly embroidered
with gold, russet boots, grey roquelaure, black velvet hat and fea
thers.
DUKE.
Crimson velvet robe trimmed with ermine, &c. Gold crimson
velvet jacket and trunks puffed with yellow satin, silk pantaloons,
white russet shoes, &c. Coronet.
BRABANTIO.
Brown velvet cloak, jacket, and trunks, puffs, white satin,
richly embroidered with gold, silk pantaloons, white shoes, morning
gown.
GRATIANO .
Purple cap, jacket, cloak, and trunks puffed with light blue sa
tin, silk pantaloons, white shoes. Second dress, purple hat and
feathers, a suit of black velvet.
MONTANO.
Light blue cloth jacket, cloak, and trunks, puffed with orange
satin, trimmed with silver, white silk pantaloons , white shoes,
black velvet hat, white feather.
RODERIGO .
White cap, cloak, jacket, and pantaloons, puffed with orange
satin, russet boots , white hat and feather.
ANTONIO .
Light blue jacket, white pantaloons and waistcoat, embroidered
with silver, russet boots.
DESDEMONA.
White satin dress , trimmed with silver, white and silver drapery.
Second dress, muslin bed gown.
EMILIA.
Black velvet dress , trimmed with point lace.
a 4
 PERSONS REPRESENTED.

1818.
Drury-lane. Covent-garden.
Duke of Venice ... .... Mr. R. Phillips. Mr. Chapman.
Brabantio .. ......... .... Mr. Powell. Mr. Egerton.
Gratiano Mr. Carr. Mr. Atkins.
Lodovico ....... .... Mr. Ley. Mr. Comer.
Montano ...... .. Mr. Barnard. Mr. Claremont.
Othello ...... Mr. Kean. Mr. Young.
Cassio .. Mr. Holland. Mr. C. Kemble.
Iago Mr. Bengough. Mr. Yates.
Roderigo ...... .... Mr. Penley. Mr. Farley.
Antonio ........ .... Mr. Coveney. Mr. Penn.
Julio. .......... .... Mr. Ebsworth. Mr. T. Matthews.
Marco ........ .... Mr. Matthews. Mr. Collet .
Paulo ........ .... Mr. Goodman . Mr. Menage.
Giovanni ...... Mr. Buxton. Mr. Healy .
Luca Mr. Cooper. Mr. Norris.
Leonardo ...... Mr. Evans.
Messenger Mr. Minton .
Desdemona ... Mrs. W. West. Miss O'Neill.
Emilia .... ... Mrs. Glover. Mrs. Yates.

Servants to Brabantio, &c.

 OTHELLO ,

THE MOOR OF VENICE.

ACT I.

SCENE I.- Venice. A Street.

Enter IAGO, and RODERIGO , R.H.

Rod. Tush, ne'er tell me, I take it much unkindly,

That thou, Iago, -who hast had my purse,
-
As if the strings were thine , should'st know of this .
Iago. ' Sblood, but you will not hear me :
If ever I did dream of such a matter,
Abhor me.
Rod. Thou told'st me, thou didst hold him in thy
hate.
Iago. Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones
ofthe city,
In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,
Oft capp'd to him ; —and, by the faith of man ,
I know my price , I am worth no worse a place :
But he, as loving his own pride and purposes,
Evades them with a bombast circumstance,
Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war ;
And, in conclusion, nonsuits
My mediators : for, certes, says he,
I have already chosen my officer.
And what was he ?
Forsooth, a great arithmetician ,
One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,
A fellow
A5
2 OTHELLO .
That never set a squadron in the field ,
Nor the division of a battle knows
More than a spinster :—
He, in good time , must his lieutenant be,
And I, (heaven bless the mark ! ) his Moor - ship's
ancient.
Rod. By heaven, I rather would have been his
hangman .
Iago. Now, sir, be judge yourself,
Whether I in any just term am affin'd
To love the Moor.
Rod. I would not follow him then.
Iago. O, sir, content you ;
I follow him, to serve my turn upon him :
Heaven is my judge, not I, for love and duty,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end :
For when my outward action does demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In compliment extern, ' tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at : I am not what I am.t (Crosses
to R.H.)
Rod. What a full fortune does the thick-lips owe, ‡
If he can carry it thus !
Iago. Call up her father,
Rouse him ; make after him, poison his delight ;
Though that his joy be joy,
Yet throw such changes of vexation on't,
As it may lose some colour.
Rod. Here is her father's house ; I'll call aloud.
Iago. Do ; with like timorous accent, and dire yell,
As when, by night and negligence , the fire
Is spied in populous cities.
Rod. What ho ! Brabantio ! signior Brabantio , ho !
* Seeming- Seemingly .
+ I am not what I am- i.e.- I am not that which I appear to be
this phrase is familiar to Shakspeare .
Owe- i.e- Own-possess- so Massinger
" To raise desert and virtue by my fortune,
Though in a low estate were greater glory,
Than to mix greatness with a prince that owes
No worth but that name only." Virgin Martyr.— a, 1.8.1.
 OTHELLO . 3
Iago. Awake ! what ho ! Brabantio ! thieves !
thieves thieves !
Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags !
Thieves thieves !

BRABANTIO, above, at a window , L.H.

Bra. What is the reason of this terrible summons ?

What is the matter there ?
Rod. Signior, is all your family within ?
Iago. Are your doors lock'd?
Bra. Why? wherefore ask you this ?
Iago. Sir, you are robb'd :-For shame, arise,
arise !
Awake the snorting citizens with the bell ,
Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you :
Arise, I say !
Bra. What, have you lost your wits ?
Rod. Most reverend signior, do you know my voice ?
Bra. Not I. What are you ?
Rod. My name is- Roderigo.
Bra. The worse welcome :
I have charg'd thee not to haunt about my doors :
In honest plainness thou hast heard me say,
My daughter is not for thee ; and now, in madness,
Being full of supper, and distempering draughts ,
Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come
To start my quiet :
Rod. Sir, sir, sir,
Bra. But thou must needs be sure,
My spirit, and my place, have in them power
To make this bitter to thee.
Rod. Patience, good sir..
Bra. What tell'st thou me of robbing ? this is Ve
nice;
My house is not a grange.
Rod. Most grave Brabantio,
In simple and pure soul I come to you.
Iago. Sir, you are one of those, that will not serve
Heaven, if the devil bid you.
A6
4 OTHELLO.
Bra. Thou art a villain.
Iago. You are-a senator. (Rod. checks him .)
Bra. This thou shalt answer ;* I know thee, Rode
rigo.
Rod. Sir, I will answer any thing. But I beseech
you,
Straight satisfy yourself :
If she be in her chamber, or your house,
Let loose on me the justice of the state
For thus deluding you.
Bra. Give me a taper ; -call up all my people ;
This accident is not unlike my dream ,
Belief of it oppresses me already :-
Light ! I say, light !
(Brabantio retires from the window .)
Iago. Farewell ; for I must leave you :
It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place,
To be produc'd (as, if I stay, I shall, )
Against the Moor : For, I do know, the state,
However this may gall him with some check,
Cannot with safety cast him ; † for he's embark'd
With such loud reason to the Cyprus' wars,
(Which even now stand in act, ) that, for their souls,
Another of his fathom they have not,
To lead their business : in which regard,
Though I do hate him as I do hell's pains,
Yet, for necessity of present life,
I must show out a flag and sign of love,
Which is indeed but sign.-That you shall surely find
him ,
Lead to the Sagittar the raised search ;
And there will I be with him. So, farewell.
[Exit, R.H.

Enter BRABANTIO, and Servants, with torches, L.H.

* i. e.-This insolence ofthy unknown companion, thou, Roderigo,

whom I do know, shalt account for. The speech is sometimes dif
ferently given, in defiance to Roderigo's reply.
ti. e- -Cast him off - So in a. 2, s. 1 .-" Our general cast us
thus early, for the love of his Desdemona."
 OTHELLO . 5
Bra. It is too true an evil : gone she is :
And what's to come of my despised time,
Is nought but bitterness .- Now, Roderigo,
Where didst thou see her?-O, unhappy girl ! -
With the Moor, say'st thou ?-Who would be a father?
Raise all my kindred.- Are they married, think you?
Rod. Truly, I think they are.
Bra. O heaven !-How got she out ? -O treason of
the blood !
Fathers, from hence, trust not your daughters' minds
By what you see them act.-Are there not charms,
By which the property of youth and maidhood
May be abus'd ? Have you not read, Roderigo,
Of some such thing ?
Rod. Yes, sir ; I have, indeed.
Bra. Call up my brother. [Exit a Servant, R.H.
O, that you had had her!
Some one way, some another.- [ Exit a Servant,L.H .
Do you know
Where we may apprehend her and the Moor?
Rod. I think, I can discover him ; if you please
To get good guard, and go along with me.
Bra. 'Pray you lead on. At every house I'll call ;
I may command at most :-Get weapons, ho !
And raise some special officers of night.
On, good Roderigo ;-I'll deserve your pains.
[Exeunt RODERIGO, BRABANTIO, and Servants, R.H.

SCENE II.- Venice. Another Street.

Enter OTHELLO and IAGO, r.h.D.

Iago. Though in the trade of war I have slain men,

Yet do I hold it very stuff o'the conscience,
To do no contriv'd murder ;
Nine or ten times
I had thought to have yerk'd him here under the ribs.
Oth. "Tis better as it is. (Crosses to L.H.)
Iago. Nay, but he prated,
And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms
6 OTHELLO .

Against your honour,

That, with the little godliness I have,
I did full hard forbear him . But, I pray, sir,
Are you fast married ? for, be sure of this,
That the magnifico is much belov'd ;
And hath, in his effect, a voice potential
As double* as the duke's : he will divorce you ;
Or put upon you what restraint and grievance
The law, (with all his might, to enforce it on,)
Will give him cable .
Oth. Let him do his spite :
My services, which I have done the signiory,
Shall out-tongue his complaints . "Tis yet to know,
(Which, when I know that boasting is an honour,
I shall promulgate, ) I fetch my life and being
From men of royal siege ; † and my demerits
May speak, unbonneted, to as proud a fortune
As this that I have reach'd . For know, lago,
But that I love the gentle Desdemona,
I would not my unhoused free condition
Put into circumscription and confine
For the sea's worth.- But look ! what lights come
yonder ?
Iago. These are the raised father, and his friends :
You were best go in.
Oth. Not I : I must be found ;
My parts, my title, and my perfect soul,
Shall manifest me rightly.-Is it they ? .
Iago. By Janus- I think, no.

Enter Servants with torches, CASSIO, GIOVANNI, and

LUCA, L.H.

Oth. (Centre.) The servants of the duke, and my

lieutenant.
The goodness of the night upon you, friends !
What is the news?
Cas. (L.H.) The duke does greet you, general ;
* Double-i. e.- strong.
† Sieeg.- i.e.— royal seat, royal extraction.
 OTHELLO . 7
And he requires your haste-post-haste* appearance,
Even on the instant.
Oth. What is the matter, think you ?
Cas. Something from Cyprus, as I may divine :
You have been hotly call'd for ;
When, being not at your lodging to be found,
The senate sent about three several quests,
To search you out.
Oth. 'Tis well I am found by you.
I will but spend a word here in the house,
And go with you . [Exit, R.H.D.
Cas. Ancient, what makes he here ?
Iago. (R.H.) 'Faith, he to night hath boarded a land
carack ; *
If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever.
Cas. I do not understand .
Iago. He's married.
Cas. To whom ?

Re-enter OTHELLO, R.H.D.

Iago. Marry, to- Come, captain , will you go ?

Oth. Have with you.
Cas. Here comes another troop to seek for you.
Iago. It is Brabantio :-General, be advis'd ;
He comes to bad intent.
Oth. Holla ! stand there !

Enter two Servants, L.H. with torches, preceding

RODERIGO, BRABANTIO, and Officers .
Rod. Signior, it is the Moor.
Bra. Down with him , thief !
(They draw on both sides.)
Iago. You, Roderigo ! come sir, I am for you.
Oth. (Crosses to centre. ) Keep up your bright swords,
for the dew will rust them.
Good signior, you shall more command with years,
Than with your weapons .
* Haste-post-haste-This was the common indorsement of letters
in Shakspeare's time, when speed was particularly requisite.
8 OTHELLO.
Bra. O, thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd my
daughter ?
Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her :
For I'll refer me to all things of sense,
If she in chains of magic were not bound,
Whether a maid-so tender, fair, and happy,*
So opposite to marriage, that she shunn'd
The wealthy curled darlings of our nation,—
Would ever have, to incur a general mock,
Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom .
Of such a thing as thou; to fear, not to delight.
I therefore apprehend, and do attach thee,
For an abuser of the world, a practiser
Of arts inhibited and out of warrant :
Lay hold upon him; if he do resist,
Subdue him at his peril . (They advance on both sides .)
Oth. Hold your hands ,
Both you of my inclining, and the rest : --
Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it
Without a prompter.-Where will you that I go
And answer this your charge ?
Bra. To prison : till fit time
Of law, and course of direct session,
Call thee to answer.
Oth. What, if I do obey ?
How may the duke be therewith satisfy'd ;
Whose messengers are here about my side,
Upon some present business of the state,
To bring me to him ?
Cas. 'Tis true , most worthy signior,
The duke's in council ; and your noble self,
I am sure, is sent for.
Bra. How! the duke in council!
In this time of the night !-Bring him away :
Mine's not an idle cause : the duke himself,
Or any of my brothers of the state,
Cannot but feel this wrong, as't were their own ;
* Unhappy, in Shakspeare's time was used for mischievous,—a
sense the epithet used here is opposed to.
Sofirmly opposed. Thus in King Richard III . a. 5.
66 Daring and opposite to ev'ry danger."
 OTHELLO . 9
For, if such actions may have passage free,
Bond-slaves, and pagans, shall our statesmen be.
[Exeunt, L.H.

SCENE III .- Venice.- A Council chamber.

The Duke, GRATIANO, LODOVICO, seven other Sen

ators, seated, and MARCO, in waiting, discovered.

Duke. There is no composition* in these news,

That gives them credit.
Gra. (L.H.) Indeed, they are disproportion'd ;
My letters say, a hundred and seven gallies .
Duke. And mine, a hundred and forty.
Lod. (R.H.) And mine, two hundred :
But though they jump not on a just account,
Yet do they all confirm
A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.
Duke. Nay, it is possible enough to judgment.

Enter PAULO, L.H.D.

Paul. A messenger from the gallies.

Duke. Now? the business ?

Enter a Messenger, L.H.D.

Mess. The Ottomites, reverend and gracious,

Steering with due course toward the isle of Rhodes,
Have there injoined them with an after- fleet .
(Gives letters to Marco, who delivers them to the
Duke.)
Lod. How many, as you guess ?
Mess. Of thirty sail : and now they do re- stem
Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance
Their purposes towards Cyprus.-Signior Montano,
Your trusty and most valiant servitor,
* Composition- i.e-agreement.
10 OTHELLO .
With his free duty, recommends you thus,
And prays you to believe him .
Duke. "Tis certain then for Cyprus .
Lod. Here comes Brabantio,-and the valiant
Moor. [Exit Messenger, L.H.D.

Enter BRABANTIO, OTHELLO, CASSIO, IAGO,

RODERIGO, GIOVANNI, and LUCA , L.H.D.

Othello and Cassio, cross to R.H.

Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you
Against the general enemy Ottoman. - (To Bra.)
I did not see you ; welcome, gentle signior ;
We lack'd your counsel and your help to-night.
Bra. So did I yours : Good your grace pardon me ;
Neither my place, nor aught I heard of business,
Hath rais'd me from my bed ; nor doth the general
care
Take hold on me ; for my particular grief
Is of so flood-gate and o'er -bearing nature,
That it engluts and swallows other sorrows ,
And it is still itself.
Duke. Why, what's the matter ?
Bra. My daughter ! O, my daughter ! (Weeps.)
Duke. Dead ?
Bra. Ay, to me ;
She is abus'd, stol'n from me, and corrupted
By spells and med'cines bought of mountebanks :
For nature so preposterously to err,
Sans witchcraft could not
Duke. Whoe'er he be, that in this foul proceeding,
Hath thus beguil'd your daughter of herself,
And you of her, the bloody book of law
You shall yourself read in the bitter letter,
After your own sense ; yea, though our proper* son
Stood in your action .
Bra. Humbly I thank your grace.
Here is the man , this Moor ; whom now, it seems
Your special mandate , for the state affairs,
Hath hither brought . 2

* Proper.- i. e.- Own.

 OTHELLO . 11
Duke. We are very sorry for't.
What in your own part, can you say to this ?
(To Othello )
Bra. Nothing, but this is so.
Oth. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
My very noble and approv'd good masters ,
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,
It is most true ; true I have married her ;
The very head and front of my offending
Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,
And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace ;
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,
Till now, some nine moons wasted , they have us'd
Their dearest action in the tented field ;
And little of this great world can I speak,
More than pertains to feat of broil and battle ;
And therefore little shall I grace my cause,
In speaking for myself : yet, by your gracious patience,
I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver,
Of my whole course of love ; what drugs , what charms,
What conjurations, and what mighty magic,
(For such proceedings am I charg'd withal, )
I won his daughter with .
Bra. A maiden never bold ;
Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion.
Blush'd at herself ; and she, -in spite of nature,
Of years, of country, credit, every thing,—
To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on !
It is a judgment maim'd , and most imperfect,
That will confess-perfection so could err
Against all rules of nature :
I therefore vouch again ,
That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood,
Or with some dram conjur'd to this effect,
He wrought upon her. 1
Duke. To vouch this is no proof.
Othello, speak ;--
Did you, by indirect and forced courses,
Subdue and poison this young maid's affections ?
Or came it by request, and such fair question
As soul to soul affordeth ?
12 OTHELLO .
Oth. I do beseech you,
Send for the lady to the Sagittar,
And let her speak of me before her father :
If you do find me foul in her report,
The trust, the office, I do hold of you,
Not only take away, but let your sentence
Even fall upon my life.
Duke. Fetch Desdemona hither.
Oth. Ancient, conduct them ; you best know the
place :——
[ Exeunt Iago, Roderigo, Luca, and Giovanni, L.H.D.
And, till she come, as truly as to heaven
I do confess the vices of my blood,
So justly to your grave ears I'll present
How I did thrive in this fair lady's love,
And she in mine.
Duke. Say it, Othello.
Oth. Her father lov'd me ; oft invited me ;
Still question'd me the story of my life,
From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes,
That I have pass'd.
I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
To the very moment that he bade me tell it :
Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents, by flood, and field ;
Of hair- breadth ' scapes i'the imminent deadly breach ;
Of being taken by the insolent foe,
And sold to slavery ; of my redemption thence,
And with it all my travel's history :
Wherein of antres vast, and desarts idle,
Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch
heaven,
It was my hent* to speak,-such was my process, —
And of the Cannibals that each other eat,
The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders . This to hear
* Surely this should be " hint to speak, " as just after, " Upon
this hint I spake." The first quarto is the only old copy in which
the other reading is found.
This sentence justifies Iago's subsequent sneers at the Moor, who
here, in his courtship of Desdemona was " bragging and telling her
 OTHELLO. 13
Would Desdemona seriously incline :
But still the house affairs would draw her thence ;
Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my discourse : Which I observing,
Took once a pliant hour ; and found good means
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart,
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate ,
Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
But not intentively : I did consent ;
And often did beguile her of her tears,
When I did speak of some distressful stroke
That my youth suffer'd . My story being done,
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs :
She swore,-In faith, 'twas strange, ' twas passing
strange :
'Twas pitiful, ' twas wond'rous pitiful :
She wish'd, she had not heard it ; yet she wish'd
That heaven had made her such a man : she thank'd
me ;
And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story,
And that would woo her. Upon this hint, I spake :
She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd ;
And I lov'd her, that she did pity them .
This only is the witchcraft I have us'd;
Here comes the lady, let her witness it.
Duke. Good Brabantio,
Take up this mangled matter at the best :
Men do their broken weapons rather use,
Than their bare hands.
Bra. I pray you, hear her speak ;
If she confess that she was half the wooer,
Destruction light on me, if my bad blame
Light on the man !

Enter GIOVANNI, IAGO, DESDEMONA, RODERIGO, and

LUCA, LH.D.

Come hither, gentle mistress :

fantastical lies." The sentence is sometimes omitted, and we think
discreetly so.
 14 OTHELLO.

Do you perceive, in all this noble company,

Where most you owe obedience ?
Des. My noble father,
I do perceive here a divided duty :
To you, I am bound for life , and education ;
My life and education both do learn me
How to respect you ; you are the lord of duty
I am hitherto your daughter : but here's my husband ;
And so much duty as my mother show'd
To you, preferring you before her father,
So much I challenge that I may profess
Due to the Moor, my lord.
Bra. Heaven be with you ! —I have done :
Come hither, Moor ;
I here do give thee that with all my heart,
Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart
(Othello conducts Desdemona to R.H.)
I would keep from thee.—
I have done :-Proceed to the affairs of state.
Duke. The Turk with a most mighty preparation
makes for Cyprus :-Othello, the fortitude of the place
is best known to you : you must therefore be content
to slubber the gloss of your new fortunes with this more
stubborn and boisterous expedition .
Oth. The tyrant custom, most grave senators,
Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
My thrice driv'n bed of down : I do agnize
A natural and prompt alacrity,
I find in hardness ; and do undertake
These present wars against the Ottomites.
Most humbly therefore bending to your state,
I crave fit disposition for my wife ;
Due reverence of place and exhibition ; *
With such accommodation and besort,
As levels with her breeding.
Duke. Be't at her father's.
Bra. I'll not have it so.
Oth. Nor I.
Des. Nor I ; I would not there reside,
* Exhibition, is used here, for salary or appointment.
 OTHELLO . 15

To put my father in impatient thoughts,

By being in his eye.- Most gracious duke,
To my unfolding lend a prosperous ear :
And let me find a charter in your voice,
To assist my simpleness .
Duke. What would you, Desdemona ?
Des. That I did love the Moor to live with him,
My downright violence and storm of fortunes
May trumpet to the world ; my heart's subdu'd
Even to the very quality of my lord :
I saw Othello's visage in his mind ;
And to his honours and his valiant parts
Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate :
So that, dear lords, if I be left behind,
A moth of peace, and he go to the war,
The rites,* for which I love him, are bereft me,
And I a heavy interim shall support
By his dear absence : let me go with him.
Oth. Your voices, lords :-'beseech you, let her will
Have a free way.
Duke. Be it as you shall privately determine,
Either for stay, or going : the affairs cry- haste !
And speed must answer ; you must hence to-night.
Des. To-night, my lord?
Duke. This night.
Oth. With all my heart.
Duke. At ten i'the morning, here we'll meet again.
Othello, leave some officer behind,
And he shall our commission bring to you ;
And such things else of quality and respect,
As doth concern you .
Oth. Please your grace, my ancient ;
A man he is of honesty and trust ;
To his conveyance I assign my wife,
With what else needful your good grace shall think
To be sent after me.
Duke. Let it be so.
Good-night to every one.- And, noble signior,
If virtue no delighted + beauty lack,
* We should surely read-" the rights ;" ofwhich, if bereft, Des
demona had fair grounds for complaint.
+Delighted- i, e.- Delighting.
16 OTHELLO.
Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.
[Exeunt the Duke, Lodovico, the other Senators,
Marco, Paulo, Giovanni, and Luca, R.H. Iago
crosses behind to R.H.
Bra. Look to her, Moor ; have a quick eye to see ;
She has deceiv'd her father, and may do thee. (Desdemona
follows her father and kneels to him, he puts her
from him.- The Moor raises her. Brabantio and
Gratiano go off R.H.)
Oth. My life upon her faith.- Honest Iago,
My Desdemona must I leave to thee :
I pr'ythee, let thy wife attend on her ;
And bring her after in the best advantage.
Come, Desdemona ; I have but an hour
Of love, of worldly matters and direction ,
To spend with thee : we must obey the time.
[Exeunt Othello, Desdemona, and Cassio, L.H.
Rod. Iago.
Iago. What say'st thou, noble heart?
Rod. What will I do, think'st thou
Iago. Why, go to bed, and sleep.
Rod. I will incontinently drown myself.
Iago. Well, if thou dost, I shall never love thee after
it. Why, thou silly gentleman !
Rod. It is silliness to live, when to live is a torment :
and then have we a prescription to die, when death is
our physician.
Iago. O villainous ! I have look'd upon the world
for four times seven years :* and since I could distin
guish betwixt a benefit and an injury, I never found
man that knew how to love himself. Ere I would say,
I'd drown myself for the love of a Guinea-hen, I'd
change my humanity with a baboon.
Rod. What should I do ? I confess, it is my shame
to be so fond; but it is not in my virtue to amend it.
Iago. Virtue ! a fig ! ' tis in ourselves, that we are
thus, or thus. Come, be a man-Drown thyself?
drown cats and blind puppies ! I profess me thy friend,
and I could never better stead thee than now. Put

This passage refutes the common notion that lago is a man of

middle age.
 OTHELLO . 17
money in thy purse : follow these wars ! I say, put
money in thy purse . It cannot be, that Desdemona
should long continue her love to the Moor, -put mo
ney in thy purse !
Rod. Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on
the issue ?
Iago. Thou art sure of me :-go, make money :
I have told thee often, and I tell thee again and again,
I hate the Moor : my cause is hearted ; thine hath no
less reason : let us be conjunctive in our revenge
against him : if thou canst cuckold him , thou dost thy
self a pleasure, and me a sport. Traverse ; go ; (Rod.
crosses to L.H. ) provide thy money. We will have
more of this to-morrow. Adieu .
Rod. Where shall we meet i'the morning ?
Iago. At my lodging.
Rod. I'll be with thee betimes.
Iago. Go to ! farewell.-Do you hear, Roderigo ?
Rod. What say you ?
Iago. No more of drowning,-do you hear ?
Rod. I am chang'd :-I'll go sell all my land.
[Exit Roderigo, L.H.
Iago. Thus do I ever make my fool my purse :
For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane,
If I would time expend with such a snipe,
But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor;
And it is thought abroad, that ' twixt my sheets
He has done my office : I know not, if't be true ;
Yet I, for mere suspicion in that kind,
Will do, as if for surety. He holds me well ;
The better shall my purpose work on him.
Cassio's a proper man : let me see now:
To get his place, and to plume up my will ;
A double knavery.- How ? how ? Let me see :
After some time, to abuse Othello's ear,
That is too familiar with his wife :
:
He hath a person and a smooth dispose,
To be suspected ; fram'd to make women false :-
The Moor, a free and open nature too,
That thinks men honest, that but seem to be so;
B
18 OTHELLO.
And will as tenderly be led by the nose,
As asses are :
I have't, it is engender'd :-hell and night
Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light.
[ Exit, L.H.
•
END OF ACT I.

ACT II.

SCENE I.- Cyprus. A Platform before the Town.

Enter MONTANO, CASSIO, and JULIO, R.H.

Cas. Thanks to the valiant of this warlike isle ,

That so approve the Moor : O, let the heavens
Give him defence against the elements,
For I have lost him on a dangerous sea !
Mont. Is he well shipp'd ?
Cas. His bark is stoutly timber'd, and his pilot
Of very expert and approv'd allowance .
(Cannon fired, L.H.)
(Without.) A sail ! a sail ! a sail!
Cas. What noise? (Julio crosses behind to L.H. )
Enter ANTONIO, L.H.

Ant. The town is empty ; on the brow o'the sea

Stand ranks of people, and they cry—a sail !
Cas. My hopes do shape him for the Governor.
J pray you, sir, go forth,
And give us truth who't is that is arriv'd.
Jul. I shall. [Exeunt Antonio and Julio, L.H.
Mont. But, good lieutenant, is your general wiv'd ?
Cas. Most fortunately ; he hath achiev'd a maid
That paragons description, and wild fame ;
 OTHELLO . 19
Enter JULIO, and ANTONIO, L.H.
Now, who has put in ?
Jul. 'Tis one lago, ancient to the general.
Cas. He has had most favourable and happy speed :
Tempests themselves, high seas , and howling winds,
As having sense of beauty, do omit
Their common natures, letting go safely by
The divine Desdemona.
Mont. What is she ?
Cas. She that I spake of, our great captain's cap
tain,
Left in the conduct of the bold Iago.
O behold, (Crosses to L.H. to meet Des.- Julio, and
Anth. cross behind to R.H.)
The riches of the ship is come on shore !

Enter IAGO, DESDEMONA, EMILIA, RODERIGO,

MARCO, and Paulo, L.H.

Hail to thee, lady ! and the grace of heaven,

Before, behind thee, and on every hand,
Enwheel thee round !
Des. I thank you, valiant Cassio.
What tidings can you tell me of my lord ?
Cas. He is not yet arriv'd ;-nor know I aught,
But that he's well, and will be shortly here.
Des. O, but I fear,-How lost you company?
Cas. The great contention of the sea and skies
Parted our fellowship :- (Cannon fired, L.H.)
(Without.) A sail ! a sail :
Cas. See for the news.
[Exit Antonio. L.H.
Good ancient, you are welcome :-welcome, mis
tress. (To Emilia, kissing her.)
Let it not gall your patience, good lago,
That I extend my manners : ' tis my breeding
That gives me this bold show of courtesy.
Iago. Sir, would she give you so much of her lips,
As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,
You'd have enough.
B 2
20 OTHELLO .
·
Des. Alas, she has no speech. (Crosses to Emilia .)
Iago. I know too much ;
Marry, before your ladyship, I grant,
She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
And chides with thinking.
Emil. You have little cause to say so.
Iago. Come on, come on ; you are pictures out of
doors,
Bells in your parlours, wild cats in your kitchens,
Saints in your injuries, devils being offended,
Players in your housewifery, and housewives in your
beds.
Des. O, fie upon thee, slanderer !
Iago. Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk :
You rise to play, and go to bed to work.
Emil. You shall not write my praise.
Iago. No, let me not.
Des. What would'st thou write of me, if thou
should'st praise me ?
Iago. O gentle lady, do not put me to't ;
For I am nothing, if not critical .
Des. Come on, assay. -There's one gone to the
harbour? *
Cas. Ay, madam.
Des. I am not merry ; but I do beguile
The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.
Come, what praise could'st thou bestow on a deserving
woman, indeed ; one that, in the authority of her me
rits, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself?
Iago. I am about it ; but, indeed, my invention
Comes from my pate, as birdlime does from frieze ;
It plucks out brain and all : but my muse labours,
And thus she is deliver'd. -
She that was ever fair, and never proud :
Had tongue at will, and yet was never loud ;
Never lack'd gold, and yet went never gay ;
Fled from her wish, and yet said- now I may!
She that, being anger'd, her revenge being nigh,
Bade her wrong stay, and her displeasure fly;
* This is a very delicate touch of tenderness.
 OTHELLO . 21
She that could think, and ne'er disclose her mind,
See suitors following, and not look behind ;
She was a wight,-if ever such wight were,
Des. To do what ?
lago. To suckle fools , and chronicle small beer.
Des. O most lame and impotent conclusion ! -Do
not learn of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband.
-How say you, Cassio ? is he not a most profane and
liberal counsellor ?
Cas. He speaks home, madam ; you may relish him
more in the soldier, than in the scholar.
(Cassio takes Desdemona by the hand to introduce
her to the gentlemen of Cyprus : he talks with her
during Iago's speech.)
Iago. (Aside-L.H.) He takes her by the palm :
Ay, well said, whisper :-as little a web as this, will
ensnare as great a fly as Cassio .-Ay, smile upon her,
do ;-I will gyve thee in thine own courtship :- :-you
say true ; ' tis so, indeed :—if such tricks as these strip
you out of your lieutenantcy, it had been better you
-
had not kiss'd your three fingers so oft.
Cannon fired .-trumpet sounds, L.H.)
The Moor :-I know his trumpet.
Des. (Advancing.) Let's meet him and receive him.
Enter OTHELLO, LUCA, GIOVANNI , and gentlemen, L.H.
Oth. O myfair warrior !
Des. My dear Othello !
Oth. It gives me wonder great as my content,
To see you here before me,-O my soul's joy !
If after every tempest come such calms,
May the winds blow till they have waken'd death !
And letthe labouring bark climb hills of seas
Olympus-high ; and duck again as low
As hell's from heaven ! If it were now to die,
"Twere now to be most happy ! for, I fear,
My soul hath her content so absolute,
That not another comfort like to this
Succeeds in unknown fate.
Des. The heavens forbid,
B3
22 OTHELLO.
But that our loves and comforts should increase,
Even as our days do grow !
Oth. Amen to that, sweet powers !—
And this, and this, the greatest discord be
(Embracing her.)
That e'er our hearts shall make!
Iago. (Aside- L.H.) O, you are well tun'd now !
But I'll set * downthe pegs that make this music,
As honest as I am.
Oth. Come, let's to the castle.
News, friends ; our wars are done, the Turks are
drown'd.
How do our old acquaintance ofthe isle ? -
Honey, you shall be well desir'd in Cyprus ;
Iv'e found great love amongst them. O my sweet,
I prattle out of fashion, and I dote
In mine own comforts.-I pr'ythee, good Iago,
Go to the bay, and disembark my coffers ;
Bring thou the master to the citadel ;
He is a good one, and his worthiness
Does challenge much respect.- Come, Desdemona,
Once more well met at Cyprus ! (Trumpet sounds . )
[Exeunt all but Iago and Roderigo, R.H.
Iago. Do thou meet me presently at the harbour.
Come hither -list me. -The lieutenant to-night
watches on the court ofguard :-first, I will tell thee
this,-Desdemona is directly in love with him.
Rod. With him !-why, ' tis not possible.
Iago. Lay thy finger-thus,-and let thy soul be
1
instructed. Mark me, with what violence she first
lov'd the Moor, but for bragging, and telling her fan
tastical lies and will she love him still for pra
ting ? Let not thy discreet heart think it : her eye
must be fed ; and what delight shall she have to look
on the devil ?
Rod. I cannot believe that in her ; she is full of
most bless'd condition .
Iago. Bless'd fig's end ! the wine she drinks is made

" Let down" would here be more " german to the matter."
 OTHELLO . 23
of grapes if she had been bless'd, she would never
have lov'd the Moor : bless'd pudding ! Didst thou
not see her paddle with the palm of his hand ? didst
not mark that ?
Rod. Yes ; but that was but courtesy.
Iago. Lechery, by this hand ; an index and obscure
prologue to the history of lust and foul thoughts.
Sir, be you rul'd by me : I have brought you from
Venice : watch you to-night ; for the command , I'll
lay't upon you : Cassio knows you not ;-I'll not be
far from you : do you find some occasion to anger
Cassio, either by speaking too loud, or tainting his
discipline ; or from what other cause you please ,
which the time shall more favourably minister.
Rod. Well,
Iago. Sir, he is rash, and very sudden in choler ;
and, haply may strike at you :-provoke him that
he may ; for, even out of that, will I cause these of
Cyprus to mutiny, whose qualification shall come
into no true taste again, but by the displanting of
Cassio.
Rod. I will do this, if you can bring it to any op
portunity.
Iago. I warrant thee, Meet me by and by at the
citadel : I must fetch his necessaries ashore . Farewell.
Rod. Adieu. [Exit Roderigo, R.H.
Iago. That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it ;
That she loves him , ' tis apt, and of great credit :
The Moor- howbeit that I endure him not,
Is of a constant, loving, noble nature ;
And, I dare think, he'll prove to Desdemona
A most dear husband. Now I do love her too ;
Not out of absolute lust, (though, peradventure,
I stand accountant for as great a sin,)
But partly led to diet my revenge,
For that I do suspect the lusty Moor
Hath leap'd into my seat : the thought whereof
Doth, like a poisonous mineral , gnaw my inwards ;
And nothing can nor shall content my soul,
B 4
 24 OTHELLO .
Till I am even with him, wife for wife ;
Or, failing so, yet that I put the Moor
At least into a jealousy so strong
That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do,
If this poor brach* of Venice, whom I trace
For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,
I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip ;
Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb,
For I fear Cassio with my night- cap too,
Make the Moor thank me, love me, and reward me,
For making him egregiously an ass,
And practising upon his peace and quiet,
Even to madness.-'Tis here, but yet confus'd ;
Knavery's plain face is never seen till us'd. [Exit, L.H.

SCENE II.- Cyprus.- The Guard-house before

the Castle.

Enter MARCO, PAULO, OTHELLO, CASSIO, GIOVANNI,

and LUCA, R.H.

Oth. Good Michael, look you to the guard to- night :

Let's teach ourselves that honourable stop ,
Not to outsport discretion .
Cas. Iago hath direction what to do ;
But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye
Will I look to't.
Oth. lago is most honest.—
Michael, good night :-To-morrow with your earliest,
Let me have speech with you :
Good night . [Exeunt all but Cassio, L.H.U.E.
* Brach.—There are in England and Scotland two kinds of hunting
dogs, and no where else in the world ; the first kind is called a rache,
and this is a foot-scenting creature both of beasts, birds, and fishes,
also which lie bid among the rocks. The female of it, is called a
brach ; a brach is a mannerly name for all hound.— Gentleman's
Recreation- p. 28. The general application does not require
to be explained ; here it seems to signify a hound ; unless indeed
we ought to read, rache.
 OTHELLO. 25

Enter IAGO, L.H.

Cas. Welcome, Iago : we must to the watch.

Iago. Not this hour, lieutenant ; it is not yet ten
o'clock our general cast* us thus early, for the love
of his Desdemona : whom let us not therefore blame ;
he hath not yet made wanton the night with her ; and
she is sport for Jove.
Cas. She's a most exquisite lady !
Iago. What an eye she has ! methinks, it sounds a
parley of provocation .
Cas. An inviting eye ; and yet, methinks, right
modest.
Iago. And when she speaks, ' tis an alarum to love.
Cas. She is, indeed, perfection !
Iago. Well, happiness to their sheets !-Come
lieutenant, I have a stoop of wine ; and here without
are a brace of Cyprus gallants, that would fain have a
measure to the health ofthe black Othello .
Cas. Not to -night, good Iago ; I have very poor
and unhappy brains for drinking . I could well wish
courtesy would invent some other custom of entertain
ment.
Iago. O, they are our friends ;-but one cup ; I'll
drink for you .
Cas . I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that
was craftily qualified too ; and, behold , what innovation
it makes here : I am unfortunate in the infirmity, and
dare nor task my weakness with any more. (Crosses
to L.H.)
Iago. What, man ! it's a night of revels ; the gallants
desire it.
Cas. Where are they?
Iago. Here ;-I pray you call them in .
Cas. I'll do't but it dislikes me. [ Exit Cassio, L.H.
Iago. If I can fasten but one cup upon him,
With that which he hath drunk to-night already,
He'll be as full of quarrel and offence
* Cast us- i. e -Cast us off.
B5
26 OTHELLO.
As my young mistress ' dog. Now, my sick fool,
Roderigo,
Whom love hath turned almost the wrong side outward,
To Desdemona hath to-night carous'd
Potations pottle-deep ; and he's to watch :
Three lads of Cyprus- noble swelling spirits,
That hold their honour in a wary distance,
The very elements of this warlike isle,
Have I to-night fluster'd with flowing cups,
And they watch too . Now, ' mongst this flock of
drunkards,
I am to put our Cassio in some action
That may offend the isle : (Laugh L.B.) —But here
they come :
If consequence* do but approve my dream,.
My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream. '
Enter CASSIO, MONTANO, JULIO, ANTONIO, LEONARDO,
and a Servant L.H. with wine.

Cas. 'Fore heaven† they have given me a rouse al

ready.
Mon. Good faith, a little one ; not past a pint,
As I am a soldier.
Iago. Some wine, ho!
(Sings.) And let me the canakin clink, clink;
And let me the canakin clink :
A soldier's a man,
A life's but a span,
Why then let a soldier drink.

Some wine, boys !

Cas. 'Fore heaven, an excellent song.
Iago. I learnt it in England, where, indeed, they
are most potent in potting ; your Dane, your German ,
and your swag bellied Hollander, —drink, ho ! --are
nothing to the English.
Cas. Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking ?
Iago. Why, he drinks you, with facility, your Dane
dead drunk ; he sweats not to overthrow your Almain ;
* If consequence- i. e.— If the result, &c.
'Fore heaven-i, e.- By heaven.
 OTHELLO . 27
he gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle
can be fill'd.
Cas. To the health of our general.
Mon. I am for it, lieutenant, and I'll do you justice .
Iago. O sweet England !
(Sings.) King Stephen was a worthy peer,
His breeches cost him but a crown ;
He held them sixpence all too dear,
With that he call'd the taylor- lown .
Some wine, ho ! (During this dialogue Iago is filling
glasses of wine, and giving them to Cassio.)
Cas . 'Fore heaven , this is a more exquisite song than
the other.
Iago. Will you hear it again ?
Cas. No ; for I hold him unworthy of his place,
that does these things . -Well,-heaven's above all ; and
there be souls that must be sav'd, and there be souls
must not be sav'd.
Iago. It's true, good lieutenant .
Cas. For mine own part, -no offence to the general,
nor any man of quality,-I hope to be sav❜d.
Iago. And so do I, too, lieutenant.
Cas. Ay; but, by your leave, not before me ; the
lieutenant is to be sav'd before the ancient. Let's have
no more of this ; [ Exit Servant with wine, L.H.
let's to our affairs .-Forgive us our sins !-Gentlemen,
let's look to our business. Do not think, gentlemen,
I am drunk ; this is my ancient ; this is my right hand,
and this is my left hand : I am not drunk now ; I can
stand well enough, and speak well enough.
All. Excellent well.
Cas. Very well then : you must not think that I am
drunk. 1 [Exeunt Cassio, Antonio, and Julio, L.H.
Iago. You see this fellow, that is gone before ;
He is a soldier fit to stand by Cæsar,
And give direction : and do but see his vice.
I fear, the trust Othello puts in him,
On some odd time of his infirmity,
Will shake this island.
Mon. But is he often thus ?
Iago. 'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep.
Mon. It were well,
28 OTHELLO .
The general were put in mind of it :
Perhaps, he sees it not ; or his good nature
Prizes the virtues that appear in Cassio,
And looks not on his evils :-Is not this true ?

Enter RODERIGo, r h.

Iago. How now, Roderigo !

I pray you, after the lieutenant : go. (Aside to Rod.)
[ Exit Roderigo, L.H.
Mon. And ' tis great pity, that the noble Moor
Should hazard such a place, as his own second,
With one of an ingraft infirmity :
It were an honest action, to say so
To the Moor.
Iago. Not I, for this fair island ;
I do love Cassio well ; and would do much
To cure him of this evil.
Rod. (Without, L.H. ) Help ! help !—
Iago. But, hark ! what noise ?

Enter CASSIO, driving in RODERIGO, L.H.-ANTONIO

and JULIO following them.

Cas. You rogue ! you rascal !

Mon. What's the matter, lieutenant ?
(Stops Cassio.)
Cas. A knave !-teach me my duty !
I'll beat the knave into a wicker bottle.
Rod. Beat me!
Cas. Dost thou prate, rogue ?
(Struggling to reach Roderigo.)
Mon. Nay, good lieutenant ; ( Staying him.)
Pray, sir, hold your hand.
Čas. Let me go, sir,
Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard .
Mon. Come, come, you're drunk.
Cas. Drunk! (Strikes Montano. They draw and
fight.)
Iago. Away, I say ! go out and cry— a mutiny.
(Aside to Roderigo, who runs out R.H. )
 OLHELLO . 29
Nay, good lieutenant,-alas, gentlemen,
Help, ho !-Lieutenant, -sir, -Montano, -sir ;
Help, masters !-Here's a goodly watch, indeed !
(Bell rings R.H.)
Who's that that rings the bell ?——
The town will rise :-lieutenant ! hold ;
You will be sham'd for ever. (Montano is wounded,
Antonio and Julio support him.)

Enter OTHELLO, MARCO, PAULO, GIOVANNI, LUCA,

and Servants with Torches, L.H.U.E.

Oth. Hold, for your lives.-

Why, how now, ho ! from whence ariseth this ?
Are we turn'd Turks ; and to ourselves do that,
Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites ?
For christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl !
He that stirs next to carve forth his own rage,
Holds his soul light ; he dies upon his motion.
(Bellrings R.H.)
Silence that dreadful bell, it frights the isle
From her propriety.* [ Exit Marco, R.H. and returns.
Honest Iago, that look'st dead with grieving,
Speak, who began this ?-on thy love, I charge thee.
Iago. I do not know ;-friends all but now, even now
In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom
Divesting them for bed : and then, but now
(As if some planet had unwitted men,)
Swords out, and tilting one at others breast,
In opposition bloody. I cannot speak
Any beginning to this peevish odds ;
And 'would in action glorious I had lost
These legs, that brought me to a part ofit !
Oth. How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot ?
Cas. I pray you, pardon me, I cannot speak.
Oth. Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil ;
The gravity and stillness of your youth
The world hath noted, and your name is great J
In mouths of wisest censure : what's the matter,
* The late Mr. Barry always gave this direction with distinguished
vehemence .
30 OTHELLO.
That you unlace your reputation thus,
And spend your rich opinion , for the name
Of a night- brawler ? Give me answer to it.
Mon. (L.H.) Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger ;
Your officer, Iago , can inform you
While I spare speech, which something now offends
me,
Of all that I do know : nor know I aught,
By me that's said or done amiss this night ;
Unless self- charity be sometime a vice !
And to defend ourselves it be a sin,
When violence assails us.
Oth. Now, by heaven,
My blood begins my safer guides to rule ; F
And passion, having my best judgment cool'd,
Assays to lead the way : if I once stir,
Or do but lift this arm, the best of you
Shall sink in my rebuke.- Give me to know
How this foul rout began, who set it on ;
And he that is approv'd in this offence,
Though he had twin'd with me, both at a birth,
Shall lose me.- What ! and in a town of war,
Yet wild, the people's hearts brim- full of fear,
To manage private and domestic quarrel !
In night, and on the court and guard of safety !—
Tis monstrous.- Iago, who began't ?
Mon. If partially affin'd, or leagu'd in office,
Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,
I
Thou art no soldier. (To Iago.)
Iago. Touch me not so near :
I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth,
Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio ;
Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth
Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general.
Montano and myself being in speech,
There comes a fellow, crying out for help ;
And Cassio following with determin'd sword,
To execute upon him : sir, this gentleman
Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause ;
Myselfthe crying fellow did pursue,*
It may just be observed here that Ingo neither left, nor pre
 OTHELLO. 31
Lest, by his clamour, -as it so fell out,
The town might fall in fright : he, swift of foot,
Outran my purpose ; and I return'd, the rather
For that I heard the clink and fall of swords,
And Cassio high in oath : which, till to-night,
I ne'er might say before : When I came back,
(For this was brief,) I found them close together,
At blow and thrust ; even as again they were,
When you yourself did part them.
More of this matter can I not report :
But men are men ; the best sometimes forget :
Though Cassio did some little wrong to him, --
As men in rage strike those that wish them best,
Yet, surely, Cassio,-I believe,-receiv'd
From him that fled, some strange indignity,
Which patience could not pass.
Oth. I know , Iago,
Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter,
Making it light to Cassio :-(Crosses to Cassio R.H . )
Cassio, I love thee ;
Butnever more be officer of mine.-- (Crosses to Mon.L.H. )
Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon :
Lead him off.
(Montano is led off by Julio and Antonio, L.H.)
Iago, look with care about the town ;
And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted.
[Exeunt all but Cassio and Iago, L.H.U.E.
Iago. What, are you hurt, lieutenant ?
Cas. Ay, past all surgery.
Iago. Marry, heaven forbid !
Cas. Reputation, reputation , reputation ! I have
lost my reputation ! I have lost the immortal part, sir,
ofmyself, and what remains is bestial.- My reputation,
Iago, my reputation ! (Crosses to L.H.)
Iago. As I am an honest man, 1I thought you had
receiv'd some bodily wound ; there is more offence in
that, than in reputation . Reputation is an idle and
most false imposition ; oft got without merit, and lost
without deserving : You have lost no reputation at all,
tended to leave the stage. His whole relation is filled with extraor
dinary falshood.
32 OTHELLO.
unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, man !
there are ways to recover the general again : sue to
him, and he's yours.
Cas. I will rather sue to be despis'd, than to deceive
so good a commander, with so slight, so drunken, and
so indiscreet an officer. Drunk ?-O, thou invisible
spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by,
let us call thee- devil ! (Crosses to R.H.)
Iago. What was he that you follow'd with your
sword ? What had he done to you ?
Cas. I know not.
Iago. Is it possible ?
Cas. I remember a mass of things , but nothing dis
tinctly ; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore.-O, that
men should put an enemy in their mouths, to steal
away their brains !
Iago. Why, but you are now well enough : how
came you thus recover'd ?
Cas. It hath pleas'd the devil, drunkenness , to give
place to the devil, wrath : one unperfectness shows me
another, to make me frankly despise myself.
(Crosses to L.H.)
Iago. Come, you are too severe a moralist : as the
time, the place, the condition of this country stands,
I could heartily wish this had not so befallen ; but,
since it is as it is, mend it for your own good.
Cas. I will ask him for my place again ; he shall tell
me, I am a drunkard ! Had I as many mouths as Hy
dra, such an answer would stop them all. To be now
a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast !
O strange -Every inordinate cup is unbless'd, and
the ingredient is a devil.
Iago. Come, come, good wine is a good familiar
creature, if it be well us'd ; exclaim no more against
it. And, good lieutenant, I think, you think I love you.
Cas. I have well approv'd it, sir.- I drunk !
Iago. You, or any man living, may be drunk at
some time, man. I tell you what you shall do. Our
general's wife is now the general ; --importune her, she'll
help to put you in your place : she is of so free, so kind,
 OTHELLO . 33
so apt, so bless'd a disposition, that she holds it a vice
in her goodness, not to do more than is requested.
Cas. You advise me well.
Iago. I protest, in the sincerity of love, and honest
kindness.
Cas. I think it freely and, betimes in the morning,
I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake
for me : I am desperate of my fortunes, if they check
me here.
Iago. You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant ;
I must to the watch.
Cas. Good night, honest Iago. [Exit Cassio, L.H.
Iago. And what's he then, that says,-I play the
villain,
When this advice is free, I give , and honest,
Probable to thinking, and (indeed) the course
To win the Moor again ?
How am I then a villain,
To counsel Cassio to this parallel course,
Directly to his good ? -Divinity of hell !
When devils will the blackest sins put on,
They do suggest * at first with heavenly shows,
As I do now : for, while this honest fool
Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes,
And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,
I'll pour this pestilence into his ear,
That she repeals him for her body's lust ;
And, by how much she strives to do him good,
She shall undo her credit with the Moor.
So will I turn her virtue into pitch ;
And out of her own goodness make the net
That shall enmesh them all.

Enter RODERIGO, R.H.

How now Roderigo ?

Rod. I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound
that hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My money
is almost spent ; I have been to- night exceedingly
Suggest-i.e.- Tempt.
3.4 OTHELLO .
well cudgel'd; I think, the issue will be-I shall have
so much experience for my pains, as that comes to,
and no money at all ! and, with that wit, return to
Venice.
Iago. How poor are they, that have not patience !—
What wound did ever heal, but by degrees ?
Thou know'st, we work by wit, and not by witch
craft ;
And wit depends on dilatory time.
Does't not go well ? Cassio hath beaten thee,
But thou, by that small hurt, hast cashier'd Cassio :
Retire thee ; go where thou art billeted :
Away, I say ; thou shalt know more hereafter :
Nay, get thee gone. [ Exit Roderigo, R.H.
Two things are to be done ,
My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress ;
I'll set her on :
Myself the while to draw the Moor apart,
And bring him jump* when he may Cassio find
Soliciting his wife -Ay, that's the way ;
Dull not device by coldness and delay. [Exit Iago, L.H.

END OF ACT II.

ACT III.

SCENE I.- Cyprus.-A Room in the Castle.

Enter DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and EMILIA, R.H.

Des. Be thou assur'd, good Cassio, I will do

All my abilities in thy behalf.
Emil. Good madam do ; I knowit grieves my hus
band,
As if the case were his.
* Jump- i, e.- Just.
 OTHELLO . 35
Des. O, that's an honest fellow.- do not doubt,
Cassio,
But I will have my lord and you again
As friendly as you were.
Cas. Bounteous madam ,
Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio,
He's never any thing but your true servant.
Des. O, sir, I thank you : you do love my lord ;
You've known him long and be you well assur'd ,
He shall in strangeness stand no further off,
Than in a politic distance.
Cas. Ay, -but, lady,
That policy may either last so long,
Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet,
That, I being absent, and my place supply'd,
My general will forget my love and service.
Des. Do not doubt that ; before Emilia here, (Cros
ses to centre.) I give thee warrant of thy place :
Assure thee, if I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it
To the last article : my lord shall never rest ;
F'll watch him tame, and talk him out of patience ;
I'll intermingle every thing he does
With Cassio's suit : therefore, be merry, Cassio ;
For thy solicitor shall rather die,
Than give thy cause away.
Emil. Madam, here comes my lord.
Cas. I'll take my leave .
Des. Why stay, and hear me speak.
Cas. Madam, not now ; I am very ill at ease,
Unfit for mine own purposes.

Enter OTHELLO, and IAGO, L.H.

Des. Well, do your discretion . [Exit Cassio, R.H.

Iago. Ha ! I like not that. (Half aside . )
Oth. What dost thou say ?
Iago. Nothing, my lord : or if I know not what.
Oth. Was not that Cassio, parted from my wife ?
Iago. Cassio, my lord ? No, sure ; I cannot think it,
That he would steal away so guilty- like,
36 OTHELLO .

Seeing you coming.

Oth. I do believe, 'twas he.
Des. How now, my lord ?
I have been talking with a suitor here,
A man that languishes in your displeasure.
Oth. Who is't you mean ?
Des. Why your lieutenant Cassio. Good my lord,
If I have any grace, or power to move you,
His present reconciliation take ;
For, if he be not one that truely loves you,
That errs in ignorance, and not in cunning,
I have no judgment in an honest face :
I pr'ythee, call him back.
Oth. Went he hence now ?
Des. Ay, sooth ; so humbled,
That he hath left part of his griefs with me ;
I suffer with him :-good love, call him back.
Oth. Not now, sweet Desdemona ; some other time.
Des. But shall't be shortly ?
Oth. The sooner, sweet, for you .
Des. Shall't be to-night at supper ?
Oth. No, not to - night.
Des. To-morrow dinner then ?
Oth. I shall not dine at home :
I meet the captains at the citadel.
Des. Why then, to-morrow night ; or Tuesday
morn ;
Or Tuesday noon, or night ; or Wednesday morn :
I pr'ythee, name the time ; but let it not
Exceed three days :-in faith, he's penitent :
When shall he come ?
Tell me, Othello.-I wonder, in my soul,
What you could ask me, that I should deny,
Or stand so mammering on.-What ! Michael Cassio,
That came a wooing with you ; and many a time,
When I have spoke of you dispraisingly,
Hath ta'en your part,-to have so much to do,
To bring him in !-Trust me, I could do much,
Oth. 'Pr'ythee, no more : let him come when he
will,
 OTHELLO . 37
I will deny thee nothing.
Des. Why, this is not a boon ;
'Tis, as I should entreat you wear your gloves,
Or feed on nourishing dishes, keep you warm ;
Or sue to you, to do a peculiar profit
To your own person : nay, when I have a suit,
Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed,
It shall be full of poize and difficulty,
And fearful to be granted.
Oth. I will deny thee nothing :
Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,
To leave me but a little to myself.
Des. Shall I deny you ? no : farewell, my lord .
Oth. Farewell , my Desdemona : I'll come to thee
straight.
Des. Emilia, come : -Be't as your fancies teach
you ;
Whate'er you be, I am obedient.
[Exeunt Emilia, and Desdemona , R.H.D.
Oth. Excellent wench ! Perdition catch my soul,
But I do love thee ! and when I love thee not,
Chaos is come again.
Iago. My noble lord,
Oth. What dost thou say, Iago?
Iago. Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my
lady,
Know ofyour love ?
Oth. He did, from first to last :-Why dost thou
ask ?
Iago. But for a satisfaction of my thought ;
No further harm .
Oth. What ofthy thought, Iago ?
lago. I did not think, he had been acquainted with
her.
Oth. O, yes ; and went between us very oft.
Iago. Indeed ?
Oth. Indeed ? -Indeed : -discern'st thou aught in
that ?
Is he not honest ?
Iago. Honest, my lord ?
38 OTHELLO .
Oth. Honest ? -ay, honest.
Iago. My lord, for aught I know.
Oth. What dost thou think ?
Iago. Think, my lord?
Oth. Think, my lord !
By heaven, he echoes me,
As if there were some monster in his thought,
Too hideous to be shown.-Thou dost mean some
thing:
I heard thee say but now,- "Thou lik'dst not that,”
When Cassio left my wife :-what didst not like ?
And, when I told thee- he was of my counsel
In my whole course of wooing, thou cry'dst, Indeed ?
And didst contract and purse thy brow together,
As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain
Some horrible conceit : if thou dost love me,
Show me thy thought.
Jago. My lord, you know, I love you.
Oth. I think, thou dost ;
And- for I know, thou'rt full of love and honesty,
And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st them
breath,
Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more :
For such things, in a false disloyal knave,
Are tricks of custom ; but, in a man that's just,
They're close denotements, working from the heart,
That passion cannot rule.
Iago. For Michael Cassio,
I dare be sworn,-I think that he is honest.
Oth. I think so too.
Iago. Men should be that they seem ;
Or, those that be not, ' would they might seem none !
Oth. Certain, men should be what they seem.
Iago. Why then, I think, Cassio's an honest man.
Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this :
I pray thee, speak to me as to thy thinkings,
As thou dost ruminate ; and give thy worst ofthoughts
The worst of words.
Iago. Good my lord, pardon me ;
Though I am bound to every act of duty,
 OTHELLO. 39
I am not bound to that all slaves are free to.
Utter my thoughts ? Why, say, they are vile and
false ,―
As where's that palace whereinto foul things
Sometimes intrude not?
Oth. Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago,
If thou but think'st him wrong'd, and mak'st his ear
A stranger to thy thoughts.
Iago. I do beseech you, —
(Though I, perchance, am vicious in my guess,
As, I confess, it is my nature's plague
To spy into abuses, and of't my jealousy
Shapes faults that are not,)-I entreat you then,
From one that so imperfectly conceits,
You'd take no notice ; nor build yourself a trouble
Out of this scattering and unsure observance :
It were not for your quiet, nor your good,
Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom,
To letyou know my thoughts.
Oth. What dost thou mean ?
Iago. Good name, in man, and woman, dear my
lord,
Is the immediate jewel of our souls :
Who steals my purse, steals trash ; ' tis something,
nothing ;
'Twas mine, ' tis his, and has been slave to thou
sands ;
But he that filches from me my good name,
Robs me of that, which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed.
Oth. By heaven, I'll know thy thought.
Iago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand ;
Nor shall not, while ' tis in my custody.
Oth. Ha !
Iago. O, beware, my lord, ofjealousy ;
It is the green- ey'd monster, which doth make
The meat it feeds on : That cuckold lives in bliss
Who, certain ofhis fate, loves not his wronger ;
But, O, what damned minutes tells he o'er,
40 OTHELLO.
Who dotes, yet doubts ; suspects , yet strongly loves .
Oth. O misery !
Iago. Poor, and content , is rich, and rich enough,
But riches, endless, are as poor as winter,
To him that ever fears he shall be poor :
Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend
From jealousy !
Oth. Why ? why is this ?—
Think'st thou , I'd make a life of jealousy,
To follow still the changes of the moon
With fresh suspicions ? No ; to be once in doubt,
Is-once to be resolv'd. ---
"Tis not to make me jealous,
To say, my wife is fair, loves company,
Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well ;
Where virtue is, these are more virtuous :
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt ;
For she had eyes, and chose me. No, Iago ;
I'll see , before I doubt ; when I doubt, prove ;
And on the proof, there is no more but this. -
Away at once with love or jealousy. (Crosses to L.H.)
Iago . I'm glad of this ; for now I shall have reason
To show the love and duty that I bear you,
With franker spirit : therefore, as I'm bound,
Receive it from me :-I speak not yet of proof :
Look to your wife ; observe her well with Cassio ;
Wear your eye, thus- not jealous, nor secure :
I would not have your free and noble nature ,
Out of self-bounty, he abus'd ; look to't ;
I know our country disposition well ;
In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks
They dare not show their husbands ! their best con
science
Is-not to leave undone, but keep unknown.
Oth. Dost thou say so ?
Iago. She did deceive her father, t marrying you ;
* Once.-i. e.- At once.
In the old copies, this remark is strengthened by an observation
from Brabantio, in a. 1 s. 3.
 OTHELLO. 41

And, when she seem'd to shake, and fear your looks,

She lov'd them most.
Oth. And so she did . ( Crosses to R.H. )
Iago. Why, go to, then ;
She that so young, could give out such a seeming,
To seal her father's eyes up, close as oak,—
He thought ' twas witchcraft :-but I am much to
blame ;
I humbly do beseech you ofyour pardon ,
For too much loving you.
Oth. I am bound to thee for ever. (Crosses to L.H. )
Iago. I see, this hath a little dash'd your spirits.
Oth. Not a jot, not a jot. (Crosses to R.H. )
Iago. Trust me I fear it has.
I hope, you will consider, what is spoke
Comes from mylove -but, I do see, you are mov'd :
I am to pray you, not to strain my speech
To grosser issues, nor to larger reach,
Than to suspicion .
Oth. I will not.
Iago. Should you do so, my lord,
My speech should fall into such vile success
As my thoughts aim not at : Cassio's my trusty friend,
My lord, I see you're mov'd.
Oth. No, not much mov'd :
I do not think but Desdemona's honest.
Iago. Long live she so ! and long live you to think
so !
Oth. And yet, how nature, erring from itself, -
Iago. Ay, there's the point : as, to be bold with
you,
Not to affect many proposed matches,
Of her own clime, complexion, and degree,
Whereto, we see, in all things nature tends ;
Fie ! one.may smell, in such, a will most rank,
-
Foul disproportion , thoughts unnatural.
But pardon me ; I do not, in position,
Distinctly speak of her ; though I may fear,
Her will, recoiling to her better judgment,
Mayfall to match you with her country forms
C
42 OTHELLO.

And (happily) repent .

Oth. Farewell, farewell :
If more thou dost perceive, let me know more -
Set on thy wife to observe ;-leave me, lago.
lago. My lord, I take my leave. [ Exit, L.H.
Oth. Why did I marry ?—this honest creature doubt
less,
Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.

Re- enter IAGO, l.h.

Iago. My lord, I would I might entreat your

honour
To scan this thing no further ; leave it to time ;
Though it be fit that Cassio have his place,
(For, sure, he fills it up with great ability,)
Yet, if you please to hold him off awhile,
You shall by that perceive him and his means
Note, if your lady strain his entertainment
With any strong or vehement importunity ;
Much will be seen in that. In the mean time,
Let me be thought too busy in my fears,
(As worthy cause I have to fear-I am, )
And hold her free, I do beseech your honour.
Oth. Fear not my government .
Iugo. I once more take my leave. [Exit, L.H.
Oth. This fellow's of exceeding honesty,
And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit,
Of human dealings.-If I do prove her haggard,
Though that her jesses were my dear heart strings,
I'd whistle her off and let her down the wind,
To prey at fortune.—haply, for I am black ; —
And have not those soft parts of conversation
That chamberers have ; or, for I am declin'd
Into the vale of years ;—yet that's not much :
She's gone; I am abused ; and my relief
Must be to loathe her.- O curse of marriage ,
That we can call these delicate creatures ours,
And not their appetites ! I had rather be a toad,
And live upon the vapour of a dungeon,
 OTHELLO . 43
Than keep a corner in the thing I love,
For other's uses.--
Desdemona comes :
If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself !—
I'll not believe it.

Enter DESDEMONA, and EMILIA, R.H.

Des. How now, my dear Othello ? ..

Your dinner, and the generous islanders ,
By you invited, do attend your presence .
Oth. I am to blame.
Des. Why is your speech so faint ? are you not
well ?
Oth. I have a pain upon my forehead here.
Des. Why, that's with watching ; ' twill away
again :
Let me but bind it hard, within this hour
It will be well . (Takes out her handkerchief.)
Oth. Your napkin is too little ;
(He puts the handkerchieffrom him, and it drops.)
Let it alone.-Come, I'll go in with you.
Des. I am very sorry that you are not well .
[Exeunt Desdemona and Othello, R.H.S.E.
Emil. I am glad , I have found this napkin ;
This was her first rememberance from the Moor,
My wayward husband hath a hundred times
Woo'd me to steal it ; but she so loves the token,
(For he conjur'd her, she should ever keep it,)
That she reserves it evermore about her,
To kiss and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out,
And give it to Iago :
What he will do with't, heaven knows, not I ;
I nothing, but to please his fantasy.

Enter IAGO, L.H.

Iago. How now ! what do you here alone ?

Emil. Do not you chide ; what will you give me
now for that same handkerchief ?
C2
44 OTHELLO.
Iago. What handkerchief ?
Emil. What handkerchief ?
Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona ;
That which so often you did bid me steal.
Iago. Hast stolen it from her ?-(Eagerly . )
Emil. No ; but she let it drop by negligence ;
And to the advantage, I, being here, took❜t up.
Look, here it is.
Iago. A good wench ; give it me.
Emil. What will you do with't, that you've been
so earnest
To have me filch it ?
Iago. Why, what's that to you ? (Snatching it.)
Emil. If't be not for some purpose of import,
Give't me again : poor lady ! she'll run mad
When she shall lack it.
Iago. Be not you known on't ; I have use for it;
go, leave me. [Exit Emilia, L.H.
I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin,
And let him find it. Trifles, light as air,
Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong
As proofs of holy writ. This may do something.
The Moor already changes with my poison :
Dangerous conceits are in their natures , poisons,
Which, at the first, are scarce found to distaste ;
But, with a little act upon the blood,
Burn like the mines of sulphur. - I did say so ;
Look where he comes ! Not poppy, nor mandragora ,
Not all the drowsy syrups of the world,
Shall ever medicine thee to the sweet sleep
Which thou owd'st* yesterday.
Enter OTHELLO, R.H.S.E.

Oth. Ha ! ha false to me ? to me ?—
(Comes down, R.H.)
Iago. Why, how now, general ? no more of that.
Oth. Avaunt ! be gone ! thou'st set me on the rack :
I swear, ' tis better to be much abus'd,
Than but to know't a little.
Iago. How now, my lord ?
* Owd'st.-i. e.- Possessed.
 OTHELLO. 45
Oth. What sense had I ofher stol'n hours of lust ?
I saw't not, thought it not, it harm'd not me :
I slept the next night well, was free and merry ;
I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips :
He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stol'n,
Let him not know't and he's not robb'd at all.
(Crosses to L.H. )
lago. I am sorry to hear this.
Oth. I had been happy, if the general camp,
Pioneers and all, had tasted her sweet body,
So I had nothing known : O now, for ever,
Farewell the tranquil mind ; farewell content !
Farewell the plumed troop, and the big war,
That make ambition virtue, O, farewell !
Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner,—and all quality,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance ofglorious war !
And, O, ye mortal engines , whose rude throats
The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit,
Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone.
Iago. Is it possible ? -My lord,
Oth. (Seizing him. ) Villain, be sure thou prove my
love a whore ;
Be sure of it ; give me the ocular proof ;
Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul,
Thou hadst better have been born a dog, Iago,
Than answer my wak'd wrath.
Iago. Is't come to this ?
Oth. Make me to see't ; or, (at the least,) so prove ,
That the probation bear no hinge, nor loop,
To hang a doubt on ; or, woe upon thy life !
Iago. My noble lord,
Oth. If thou dost slander her, and torture me,
Never pray more : abandon all remorse ;
On horror's head, horrors accumulate ;
Do deeds to make heaven weep , all earth amaz'd ;
For nothing canst thou to damnation add
Greater than that. (Crosses to R.H.)
Iago. O grace ! O heaven defend me !
с 3
46 OTHELLO .
Are you a man ? have you a soul, or sense ?
Heaven be wi' you ; take mine office.-O wretched
fool,
That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice !
O monstrous world ! Take note, take note, O world,
To be direct and honest, is not safe.
I thank you for this profit ; and, from hence,
I'll love no friend, since love breeds such offence.
(Going, L.H.)
Oth. Nay, stay : ( Crosses to centre.) - thou should'st
be honest.
Iago. I should be wise ; for honesty's a fool,
And loses that it works for.
Oth. By the world,
I think my wife be honest, 4 and think she's not ;
I think that thou art just, and think thou'rt not ;
I'll have some proof : her name, that was as fresh
As Dian's visage, is now begrim'd, and black
As mine own face.
'Would I were satisfy'd !
Iago. I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion ;
I do repent me, that I put it to you.—
You would be satisfy'd ?
Oth. Would ? nay, I will .
Iago. And may: but, how? how satisfy'd, my lord ?
Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on ?
Behold her
Oth. Death and damnation ! O !
Iago. It were a tedious difficulty, I think,
To bring them to that prospect : damn them then,
If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster,
More than their own ; * what then ? how then ?
What shall I say ? Where's satisfaction ?
If imputation, and strong circumstances, —
Which lead directly to the door of truth, —
Will give you satisfaction, you may have it.
Oth. Give me a living reason she's disloyal.
Iago. I do not like the office :
But, sith I am enter'd in this cause so far,
Prick'd to't by foolish honesty and love,
* Ifever &c.—i.e— ifany eyes but their own see them , &c.
 OTHELLO . 47
I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately ;
And, being troubled with a raging tooth,
I could not sleep .
There are a kind of men so loose of soul,
That in their sleep will mutter their affairs ;
One of this kind is Cassio :
In sleep I heard him say, -Sweet Desdemona,
Let us be wary, let us hide our loves.
And then, sir, would he gripe, and wring my hand ;
Cry,-O, sweet creature !
And then cry,-Cursed fate, that gave thee to the
Moor!
Oth. O monstrous ! monstrous !
Iago. Nay, this was but his dream.
Oth. But this denoted a foregone conclusion .
lago. "Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a
dream :
And this may help to thicken other proofs,
That do demonstrate thinly.
Oth. I'll tear her all to pieces.
Iago. Nay, but be wise : yet we see nothing done ;
She may be honest yet. Tell me but this,
Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief,
Spotted with strawberries, in your wife's hand ?
Oth. I gave her such a one ; 'twas my first gift.
Iago. I know not that : but such a handkerchief,
(I am sure it was your wife's, ) did I to- day
See Cassio wipe his beard with.
Oth. If't be that, -
Iago. If it be that, or any that was hers ;
It speaks against her, with the other proofs.
Öth. Oh, that the slave had forty thousand lives ;
One is too poor, too weak for my revenge !
(Crosses to L.H. )
Now do I see, ' tis time.- Look here, Iago :
All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven :
'Tis gone.
-
Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell :
Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne,
To tyrannous hate !-Swell, bosom, with thy fraught ;
C4
 48 OTHELLO.
For 'tis of aspicks ' tongues !
Iago. ' Pray, be content.
Oth. O, blood, lago, blood ! (Crosses to R.H.)
lago. Patience, I say ; your mind, perhaps, may
change .
Oth. Never, Iago : (He kneels .)
By yon marble heaven,
In the due reverence of a sacred vow
I here engage my words.
Iago. Do not rise yet.
(Crosses to R.H. and kneels by his side.)
Witness, you ever-burning lights above,
You elements that clip us round about,
Witness , that here Iago doth give up
The execution of his wit, hand, heart,
To wrong'd Othello's service !-Let him command,
And to obey shall be in me remorse ,
What bloody work soe'er.* .
Oth. I greet thy love,
Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous,
And will upon the instant put thee to't :
Within these three days let me hear thee say,
That Cassio's not alive.
Iago. My friend is dead ;
'Tis done, as you request : but let her live.
Oth. Damn her, lewd minx !-O, damn her !
(Crosses to L.H.)
Come, go with me apart ; I will withdraw,
To furnish me with some swift means of death
For the fair devil .-Now art thou my lieutenant.
Iago. I am your own for ever. [Exeunt, R.H.

SCENE II - Cyprus.- Another Apartment in the

Castle.
Enter DESDEMONA, and EMILIA, L.H.
Des. Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia ?
Emil. I know not, madam .
* i.e. Obedienceto his dictate shall usurp the place that pityshould
hold in my bosom , however bloody the business may be This is a
strong protestation of Iago's attachment to his leader, and conveys
an artful hint that the service he undertakes is heightened by its
contrast with the natural humanity of his disposition .
 OTHELLO. 49
Des. Believe me,
And, but my noble Moor
Is true of mind, and made of no such baseness
As jealous creatures are, it were enough
To put him to ill thinking.
Emil. Is he not jealous ?
Des . Who, he ? I think, the sun, where he was
born,
Drew all such humours from him.
Emil. Look, where he comes.
Des. I will not leave him now, till Cassio be
Call'd to him .

Enter OгHELLO, L.H.

-How is it with you, my lord ?

Oth. Well, my good lady ;-(Aside.) O, hardness
to dissemble !
How do you, Desdemona ? ( Crosses to R.H. )
Des. Well, my good lord.
Oth. Give me your hand :-this hand is moist, my
lady.
Des. It yet hath felt no age, nor known no sorrow.
Oth. This argues fruitfulness, and liberal heart.—
Hot, hot, and moist :-this hand of yours requires
A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer,
Much castigation , exercise devout ;
For here's a young and sweating devil here,
That commonly rebels .-'Tis a good hand,
A frank one .
Des. You may, indeed say so ;
For ' twas that hand that gave away my heart.
Oth. A liberal hand the hands, of old, gave
hearts ;
But our new heraldry is-hands , not hearts.
(Crosses to L.H.)
Des. I cannot speak of this. Come, now your pro
mise.
Oth. What promise, chuck ? (Turns back.)
Des. I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.
Oth. I have a salt and • sullen rheum offends me ;
c 5
50 OTHELLO .
Lend my thy handkerchief.
Des. Here, my lord.
Oth. That which I gave you.
Des. I have it not about me .
Oth. Not ?
Des. No, indeed my lord.
Oth. That is a fault : that handkerchief
Did an Egyptian to my mother give ;
She was a charmer, and could almost read
The thoughts of people : she told her, while she
kept it,
'Twould make her amiable, and subdue my father
Entirely to her love ; but, if she lost it,
Or made a gift of it, my father's eye
Should hold her loathly, and his spirits should hunt
After new fancies : she, dying, gave it me ;
And bade me, when my fate would have me wife,
To give it her :-I did so : -and take heed on't,
Make it a darling like your precious eye ;
To lose or give't away, were such perdition ,
As nothing else would match.
Des. Is it possible ?
Oth. 'Tis true ; there's magic in the web of it ;
A sybil, that had number'd in the world
The sun to make two hundred compasses,
In her prophetic fury sew'd the work :
The worms were hallow'd, that did breed the silk ;
And it was dy'd in mummy, which the skilful
Conserv'd of maidens' hearts.
Des. Indeed ! is it true ? 1
Oth. Most veritable : therefore look to 't well.
Des. Then would to heaven, that I had never seen
it!
Oth. Ha ! wherefore ?
Des. Why do you speak so startingly and rash ?
Oth. Is't lost ? is't gone ? speak, is it out o'the way ?
Des. Heaven bless us !
Oth . Say you ?
Des. It is not lost : but what, an if it were ? 1
Oth. Ha !
Des. I say, it is not lost.
 OTHELLO . 51

Oth. Fetch't, let me see it.

Des. Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now :
This is a trick to put me from my suit :
I pray, let Cassio be receiv'd again .
Oth. Fetch me that handkerchief :-my mind mis
gives.
Des. Come, come :
You'll never meet a more sufficient man.
Oth. The handkerchief,
Des. A man that, all his time,
Hath founded his good fortunes on your love ;
Shar'd dangers with you ;
Oth. The handkerchief, --
Des. In sooth, you are to blame.
Oth. Away! [Exit Othello, L.H.
Emil. Is not this man jealous ?
Des. I ne'er saw this before.
Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief :
I am most unhappy in the loss of it.*
Emil. 'Tis not a year or two shows us a man.
Look you ! Cassio, and my husband.
Enter IAGO and CASSIO, R.H.

Iago. There is no other way ; -' tis she must do't :

And, lo, the happiness ! -go, and importune her.
Des. How now, good Cassio ? what's the news with
you? (Crosses to centre.)
Cas. Madam, my former suit.
Des. Alas ! thrice gentle Cassio,
My advocation is not now in tune ;
My lord is not my lord ; nor should I know him,
Were he in favour, as in humour, alter'd.
You must awhile be patient ;
What I can do, I will ; and more I will,
Than for myself I dare ; let that suffice you.
Iago. Is my lord angry?
Emil. He went hence but now,
* What are we to think of the baseness betrayed here by Emilia,
who could witness this altercation, to which she alone had contri
buted, in silent apathy ?
c 6
52 OTHELLO.

And, certainly, in strange unquietness.

Iago. Can he be angry ? I have seen the cannon,
When it hath blown his ranks into the air,
And, like the devil, from his very arm
Puff'd his own brother, and can he be angry ?
Something of moment then ; I will go meet him ;
(Črosses to L.H.)
There's matter in ' t indeed , if he be angry ! [Exit, L.H.
Des. I pr'ythee, do so . - Something, sure, of state
Hath puddled his clear spirit ; and, in such cases,
Men's natures wrangle with inferior things,
Though great ones are their object.
Nay, we must think, men are not gods ;
Nor of them look for such observances
As fit the bridal.
Emil. 'Pray heaven, it be state matters, as you thinkx;
And no conception, nor no jealous toy,
Concerning you.
Des. Alas, the day ! I never gave him cause.
Emil. But jealous souls will not be answer'd so :
They are not ever jealous for the cause,
But jealous for they're jealous ; * ' tis a monster,
Begot upon itself, born on itself.
Des. Heaven keep that monster from Othello's mind !
Emil. Lady, amen !
Des. I will go seek him.- Cassio, walk here about :
If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit,
And seek to effect it to my uttermost.
Cas. I humbly thank your ladyship.
[ Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia, L.H. Cassio, R.H.
END OF ACT III.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.- Cyprus. An apartment in the Castle.

Enter OTHELLO and IAGO, R.H.

Oth. Get me some poison, Iago ; this night :-I'll

* i. e.-Because they are jealous.
 OTHELLO . 53

not expostulate with her ; lest her body and beauty

unprovide my mind again :-this night, Iago.
Iago. Do it not with poison ; strangle her in her
bed, even the bed she hath contaminated.
Óth. Good, good : the justice of it pleases ; very
good.
Iago. And, for Cassio,-let me be his undertaker ;
you shall hear more by midnight .
(A trumpet without, L.H.)
Oth. Excellent good.
What trumpet is that same ?
Iago. Something from Venice, sure. 'Tis Lodovico,
come from the duke ; and see your wife is with him.

Enter LODOVICO and DESDEMONA, L.H.

Lod. 'Save you, worthy general !

Oth. With all my heart, sir.
Lod. The duke and senators of Venice greet you.
(Gives him a letter.)
Oth. I kiss the instrument of their pleasures.
(Crosses to R.H. and reads the letter.)
Des. (On L.H. ) And what's the news, good cousin
Lodovico ?
Iago. I am very glad to see you, signior ;
Welcome to Cyprus .
Lod. I thank you. How does lieutenant Cassio ? 1
lago. Lives, sir.
Des. Cousin, there's fallen between him and my lord
An unkind breach ; but you shall make all well.
Oth. Are you sure of that ? (Partly aside. )
Des. My lord ?
Oth. (Reads.) This fail you not to do, as you will
Lod. He did not call ; he's busy in the paper.
Is there division ' tween my lord and Cassio ?
Des. A most unhappy one : I would do much
To atone* them , for the love I bear to Cassio.
Oth. Fire and brimstone !
Des. My lord ?
Oth, Are yon wise ?
* Atone- i, e - Reconcile them.
54 OTHELLO .
Des. What, is he angry ? (Crosses to centre.)
Lod. 'May be, the letter mov'd him ;
For, as I think, they do command him home,
Deputing Cassio in his government .
Des. By my troth, I am glad on't.
Oth. Indeed ?
Des. My lord ?
Oth. I am glad to see you mad.
Des. How, sweet Othello ?
Oth. Devil ! (Crosses to L.H. Striking her.)
Des. I have not deserv'd this. (Weeps.)
Lod. My lord, this would not be believ'd in Venice,
Though I should swear I saw't ; ' tis very much ;
Make her amends ; she weeps.
Oth. O devil, devil !
If that the earth could teem with woman's tears,
Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.
Out of my sight !
Des. I will not stay to offend you. (Going, R.H.)
Lod. Truly, an obedient lady ; —
I do beseech your lordship, call her back.
Oth. Mistress, -
Des. My lord?
Oth. What would you with her, sir?
Lod. Who, I, my lord ?
Oth. Ay ; you did wish, that I would make her turn :
Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on,
And turn again ; and she can weep, sir, weep ;
And she's obedient,-as you say, obedient, -
Very obedient. Proceed you in your tears ?-(To Des.)
Concerning this, sir,- ( To Lodovico.) O well- painted
passion ! -
I am commanded here, -Get you away ;
I'll send for you anon- (To Des.)-Sir I obey the
mandate ,
Andwill return toVenice :-Hence , avaunt !-(To Des.)
Cassio shall have my place :-(To Lodovico.) And,
sir, to-night,
I do entreat that we may sup together.
You're welcome, sir, to Cyprus.- Goats and monkies !
[Exeunt Othello, and Desdemona, R.H.
 OTHELLO . 55
Lod. Is this the noble Moor, whom our full senate
Call-all-in -all sufficient ? This the noble nature
Whom passion could not shake ? whose solid virtue
The shot of accident, nor dart of chance,
Could neither graze, nor pierce ?
Iago. He is much chang'd.
Lod. What, strike his wife !
lago. ' Faith, that was not so well ; yet ' would I
knew,
That stroke would prove the worst.
Lod. Is it his use ?
Or did the letters work upon his blood,
And new- create this fault ?
Iago. Alas ! alas !
It is not honesty in me, to speak
What I have seen and known . You shall observe him ;
And his own courses will denote him so ,
That I may save my speech ; do but go after,
And mark how he continues.
Lod. I am sorry that I am deceiv'd in him .
[Exeunt, R.H.

SCENE II.- Cyprus. Another Apartment in the

Castle.
Enter EMILIA and OTHELLO, l.h.
Oth. You have seen nothing then ?
Emil. Nor ever heard : nor ever did suspect.
Oth. Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together.
Emil. But then I saw no harm ; and then I heard
Each syllable that breath made up between them.
Oth. What, did they never whisper ?
Emil. Never, my lord.
Oth. Nor send you out o'the way ?
Emil. Never.
Oth. To fetch her fan, her mask, her gloves, nor
nothing ?
Emil. Never, my lord.
Oth. That's strange.
Emil. I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest,
Lay down my soul at stake : if you think other, *
* Other.- i. e.-Otherwise.
56 OTHELLO .
Remove your thought ; it doth abuse your bosom.
If any wretch hath put this in your head,
Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse !
For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true,
There's no man happy : the purest of her sex
Is foul as slander.
Oth. Bid her come hither ;*—go.—
[ Exit Emilia, R.H.D.
She says enough-yet she's a simple bawd,
That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore,
A closet-lock -and- key of villanous secrets :
And yet she'll kneel and pray ; I've seen her do't.
Enter DESDEMONA and EMILIA, R.H.D.

Des. My lord, what is your will ?

Oth. 'Pray chuck, come hither.
Des. What is your pleasure ? (Crosses to Centre.)
Oth. Let me see your eyes ; —
Look in my face.
Des. What horrible fancy's this ? ( To Emilia.)
Oth. Some of your function, mistress,
Leave procreants alone, and shut the door ;
Cough, or cry- hem, if any body come ;
Your mystery, your mystery :-nay, dispatch.
[ Exit Emilia, R.H.D.
Des. (Kneels.) Upon my knees, what does your
speech import ?
I understand a fury in your words,
But not the words.
Oth. Why, what art thou ?
Des. Your wife, my lord,-your true, and loyal wife.
Oth. Come, swear it, damn thyself;
Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves,
Should fear to seize thee ; therefore be double - damn'd ;
Swear- thou art honest.
Des. Heaven doth truly know it.
Oth. Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell
Des. (Rises.) To whom, my lord ? With whom ?
How am I false ?

* It does not appear for what purpose Othello procures this inter
view with Desdemona.
 OTHELLO. 57
Oth. (Weeps .) O Desdemona ! -away ! away ! away!
Crosses to L.H.)
Des. Alas, the heavy day ! —Why do you weep ?
Am I the occasion of those tears, my lord ?
If, haply, you my father do suspect
An instrument of this your calling back,
Lay not your blame on me ; if you have lost him ,
Why, I have lost him too.
Oth. Had it pleas'd heaven
To try me with affliction ; had he rain'd
All kind of sores and shames on my bare head ;
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips ;
Given to captivity me, and my hopes ;
I should have found in some part of my soul
A drop of patience : *
But there, where I have garner'd up my heart !
Where either I must live, or bear no life ;
The fountain from the which my current runs,
Or else dries up ; to be discarded thence ! —
Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads
To knot and gender in !-Turn thy complexion there,
Patience,- thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubim,
Ay, there, look grim as hell !
Des. I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.
Oth. O, ay ; as summer flies are in the shambles,
That quicken e'en with blowing. O thou weed,
Who art so lovely-fair, and smell'st so sweet,
That the sense aches at thee, -' would thou had'st ne'er
been born.
Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed ?
Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,
Made to write whore upon ?-What committed !
Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks :
The bawdy wind that kisses all it meets,
Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth ,
And will not hear it:-What committed !
Impudent strumpet ! (Crosses to R.H.)
Des. By heaven, you do me wrong.
* The pathos of this high-souled lamentation , almost reconciles
us to the fierce and vindictive nature of him who utters it. Let us
consider, too, that Othello's jealousy has resulted from a diffidence
of his own attraction, and how venial it will appear.
58 OTHELLO .
Oth. Are you not a strumpet?
Des. No, as I am a christian.
Oth. I cry you mercy, then ;
I took you for that cunning whore ofVenice,
That married with Othello.-You, mistress,
That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,
And keep the gate of hell,

Enter EMILIA, R.H.D.

You, you,―ay, you

We've done our course ; there's money for your pains ;
I pray you turn the key, and keep our counsel.
[Exit Othello, R.H.D.
Emil. Alas ! what does this gentleman conceive ?
How do you, my good lady ?
Good madam, what's the matter with my lord ?
Des . With whom ?
Emil. With my lord, madam ?
Des. Who is thy lord ?
Emil. He that is yours, sweet lady.
Des. I have none : do not talk to me, Emilia ;
'Pr'ythee, call thy husband hither. (Crosses to R.H.)
Emil. Here is a change indeed ! [Exit Emilia, L.H.
Des. '"Tis meet I should be us'd so, very meet.

Enter IAGO and EMILIA, L.H.D.

Iago. What is your pleasure, madam ? How is it

with you ?
Emil. Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhor'd her,
Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her,
As true hearts cannot bear.
Des. Am I that name Iago ?
Iago. What name, fair lady ?
Des. Such as, she says, my lord did say I was.
Emil. He call'd her, whore ; a beggar in his drink,
Could not have laid such terms upon his callet !
Iago. Why did he so?
Des. I do not know ; I am sure, I am none such .
 OTHELLO . 59
Iago. Do not weep, do not weep : alas, the day!
Emil. Hath she forsook so many noble matches,
Her father and her country, all her friends,
To be call'd- whore ? would it not make one weep ?
Iago. Beshrew him for it !
How comes this trick upon him ?
Des. Nay, heaven doth know.
Emil. I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain ,
Some busy and insinuating rogue,
Some cogging cozening slave, to get some office,
Have not devis'd this slander ; I'll be hang'd else.
Iago. Fie, there is no such man ; it is impossible.
Ifany such there be, heaven pardon him !
(Retires up the Stage.)
Emil. A halter pardon him !
Why should he call her, whore ? who keeps her com
pany ?
What place ? what time ? what form ? what likeli
hood ?
The Moor's abus'd by some outrageous knave,
Some base notorious knave, some scurvy, fellow : —
Oh, heaven, that such companions thoud'st unfold ;
And put in every honest hand a whip,
To lash the rascal naked through the world !
Iago. (Advancing. ) —Speak within door,―you are
fool ; go to.
Des. O good lago, ( Gets into centre.)
What shall I do to win my lord again ?
Good friend, go to him ; for, by this light of heaven
I know not how I lost him. (Kneels . ) Here I kneel :—
If e'er my will did trespass against his love,
Either in discourse of thought, or actual deed ;
Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense,
Delighted them in any other form ;
Or that I do not yet, and ever did ,
And ever will, - (though he do shake me off
To beggarly divorcement, ) - love him dearly,
Comfort forswear me ! - (They raise her.) Unkindness
may do much !
And his unkindness may defeat my life,
 60 OTHELLO .
But never taint my love.
Iago. I pray you, be content ; ' tis but his humour ;
The business of the state does him offence,
And he does chide with you.
Des. If ' twere no other,
Iago. It is but so, I warrant you .
Go in, and weep not ; all things shall be well.
[Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia, R.H. )

Enter RODERIGO, L.H.

How now, Roderigo ?

Rod. I do not find that thou deal'st justly with me.
Iago. What in the contrary ?
Rod. Every day thou doff'st me with some device,
Iago ; and rather, as it seems to me, thou keep'st from
me all conveniency, than supply'st me with the least
advantage of hope. I will, indeed, no longer endure
it ; nor am I yet persuaded, to put up in peace what
already I have foolishly suffered.
Iago. Will you hear me, Roderigo ?
Rod. 'Faith, I have heard too much ; for your words
and performances are no kin together.
Iago. You charge me most unjustly.
Rod. With nought but truth. I have wasted my
self out of my means. The jewels you have had from
me, to deliver to Desdemona, would half have corrupted
a votarist : you have told me— -she has received them,
and return'd me expectations and comforts of sudden
respect and acquittance ; but I find none.
Iago. Well ; go to ; very well .
Rod. Very well ! go to ! I cannot go to, man ; nor
is it very well by this hand, I say, ' tis very scurvy ;
and begin to find myself fobb'd in it.
Iago. Very well.
Rod. I tell you, ' tis not very well. I will make my
self known to Desdemona ; if she will return me my
jewels, I will give over my suit, and repent my unlawful
solicitation ; if not, assure yourself, I'll seek satisfaction
of you .
 OTHELLO . 61

Iago. You have said now.

Rod. Ay; and I have said nothing but what I pro
test intendment of doing.
Iago. Why, now, I see there's mettle in thee ; and,
even, from this time, do build on thee a better opinion
than ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo : thou
hast taken against me a most just exception ; but, yet,
I protest, I have dealt most directly in thy affairs.
Rod. It hath not appear'd .
Iago. I grant, indeed, it hath not appear'd ; and
your suspicion is not without wit and judgment. But
Roderigo, if thou hast that within thee indeed, which I
have greater reason to believe now than ever, I mean,
purpose, courage, and valour, -this night show it : if
thou the next night following enjoy'st not Desdemo
na, take me from this world with treachery, and devise
engines for my life.
Rod. Well, what is it ? is it within reason and com
pass ?
Iago. Sir, there is a special command come from
Venice, to depute Cassio in Othello's place.
Rod. Is that true ? why, then Othello and Desde
mona return again to Venice.
Iago. O, no ; he goes into Mauritania, and taketh
away with him the fair Desdemona , unless his abode be
linger'd here by some accident ; wherein none can be
so determinate, as the removing of Cassio.
Rod. How do you mean- removing of him !
Iago. Why by making hin uncapable of Othello's
place ; knocking out his brains.
Rod. And that you would have me to do ?
Iago. Ay ; if you dare to do yourself a profit, and a
right. He sups to-night with a harlot, and thither will
I go to him :-he knows not yet of his honourable for
tune :-if you will watch his going thence, -which I
will fashion to fall out between twelve and one,-you
may take him at your pleasure : I will be near to second
your attempt, and he shall fall between us .- Come,
stand not amazed at it, but go along with me ; I will
show you such a necessity in his death, that you shall
think yourself bound to put it on him.
62 OTHELLO .
Rod. I will hear further reason for this.*
Iago. And you shall be satisfied. [Exeunt, L.H.

SCENE III.- Cyprus. - The Castle Gates.

Enter LODOVICO, OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, EMILIA,

MARCO, and PAULO, R.H.

Lod. I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no

further.
Oth. O, pardon me ; ' twill do me good to walk.
Lod. Madam, good-night ; ( Crosses to L.H. ) I hum
bly thank your ladyship .
Des. Your honour is most welcome.
Oth. Will you walk, sir ? —
[Exeunt Lodovico, Paulo, and Marco, L.H.D.
0,-Desdemona,
Des. My lord ?—
Oth. Get you to bed on the instant ; I will re
turn forthwith !-Dismiss your attendant there ; look
it be done. [ Exit Othello, L.H.
Des. I will, my lord.
Emil. How goes it now ? he looks gentler than he
did.
Des . He says he will return immediately :
He hath commanded me to go to bed,
And bade me to dismiss you .
Emil. Dismiss me !
Des. It was his bidding ; therefore, good Emilia,
Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu :
We must not now displease him. (Crosses to R.H. )
Emil. I would you had never seen him,
[ExeuntDesdemona, and Emilia, R.H.

END OF ACT IV.

* This is a parting touch of moral rectitude, which, coupled with

the speaker's " plentiful lack" of understanding, must almost
induce us to lament his untimely end.
 OTHELLO. 63

ACT V.

SCENE 1.- Cyprus.- A Street.

Enter IAGO, and RODERIGO, R.H.

Iago. Here, stand behind this bulk ; straight will he

come :
Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home ;
It makes us, or it mars us ; think of that,
And fix most firm thy resolution.
Rod. Be near at hand ; I may miscarry in't.
Iago. Here, at thy hand ; be bold, and take thy
sword. (Retires a little, R.H.)
Rod. I have no great devotion to the deed ;
And yet he has given me satisfying reasons :
'Tis but a man gone :-forth, my sword ; he dies,
(Stands aside, by the wing, L.H.)
Iago. (Advancing . ) Now, whether he kill Cassio ,
Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
Every way makes my gain :-live Roderigo ;—
He calls me to a restitution large
Of gold, and jewels, that I fobb'd from him,
As gifts to Desdemona ;
It must not be :-if Cassio do remain ;
He hath a daily beauty in his life,
That makes me ugly :—and, besides, the Moor
May unfold me to him ; there stand I in peril :
No, he must die :—but so, I hear him coming.
(Stands aside, L.H. )

Enter CASSIO, R.H.

Rod. I know his gait, ' tis he :-villain, thou diest.

(He runs and thrusts at Cassio, who draws.)
Cas. That thrust had been mine enemy indeed,
But that my coat is better than thou think'st :
I will make proof of thine.
(Cassio wounds Roderigo, who falls.)
 64 OTHELLO .
Rod. O, I am slain !
(Iago advances, cuts Cassio behind in the
leg, and Exit, R.H.)
Cas. Oh, I am maim'd for ever.-(Cassio falls.)
Help, ho !-murder ! murder !—
Rod. O, villain that I am !
Cas. What, ho ! no watch? no passage ? murder !
murder !
Rod. Nobody come ? then shall I bleed to death.

Enter IAGO in his night-gown , with a naked sword,

and a light, R.H.

Iago. What are you here, that cry so grievously ?

Cas. Iago ! O, I am spoil'd, undone by villains !
Give me some help.
Iago. O me, lieutenant !-what villains have done
this ?
Cas. I think that one of them is hereabout
And cannot make away.
Rod. O, help me here ! *
Cas. That's one of them.
Iago. O murderous slave ! O villain !
(Iago stabs Roderigo.)
Rod. O damn'd Iago ! O inhuman dog !-O ! O!
O-! (Dies.)
Iago. Kill men i' the dark !-Where be these
bloody thieves ?
How silent is this town !-Ho ! murder ! murder !

Enter LODOVICO, and GRATIANO, L.H.

What may you be ? are you of good or evil ?

Lod. As you shall prove us, praise us.
Iago. Signior Lodovico ?
Lod. He, sir.
Iago. I cry you mercy : here's Cassio hurt by vil
lains.

* The actors of this part are sometimes apt to say more here than
is set down for them, by crying out to be helped first, &c. &c. a
liberty which destroys the texture of the scene.
 OTHELLO. 65
Gra. Cassio ? (Gratiano, L.H. Lodovico, R.H. raise
Cassio and support him. )
Iago. How is it, brother ?
Cas. My leg is cut in two.
lago. Marry, heaven forbid ! —
-Knowwethis face, orno?-(Turns andlooks on Rod.)
Alas ! my friend, and my dear countryman,
Roderigo ! no : — -yes, sure ; -O heaven ! -Rode
rigo !
Enter EMILIA, with a light R.H.D.
Emil. 'Las, what's the matter ? what's the matter,
husband ?
Iago. Cassio hath here been set on i'the dark,
By Roderigo, and fellows that are ' scap'd ;
He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead.
Emil. Alas, good gentleman ! alas, good Cassio !
Iago. Emilia, run you to the citadel,
And tell my lord and lady what hath hap'd.
(Servants bear off Roderigo, R.H.) [Exit Emilia L.H.
Will you go on, I pray ?—This is the night,
That either makes me, or foredoes me quite. (Aside.)
[Exeunt Gratiano, Cassio, Lodovico, and Iago,
R.H.D.

SCENE II.- Cyprus.- A Bed-chamber in the

Castle.- Desdemona in bed, R.H. asleep.
Enter OTHELLO, with a light,* R.H.D.
Oth. It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,- 1
Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars !
It is the cause.- Yet I'll not shed her blood ;
Nor scar that whiter skin of her's than snow,
And smooth as monumental alabaster.
Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men.
Put out the light, and then- put out the light !
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore,
* And, according to modern practice, with a drawn sword, which
must be incorrect and unnecessary, when Othello ' s determination
to " strangle her in bed " (see a. 4 scene 1.) is considered.
D
66 OTHELLO .
Should I repent me :-but once put out thine,
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat,
That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd the
rose,
I cannot give it vital growth again,
---
It must needs wither :-I'll smell it on the tree.
(Kisses Desdemona.)
O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade
Justice herself to break her sword !-Once more.
(Kisses her.)
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
And love thee after.-Once more, and this the last,—
(Kisses her.) She wakes
Des. Who's there ? Othello ?
Oth. Ay, Desdemona. -
Have you pray'd to night Desdemona ?
Des. Ay, my lord.
Oth. If you bethink yourself of any crime,
Unreconcil'd as yet to heaven and grace,
Solicit for it straight.
Des. Alas, my lord, what may you mean by that ?
Oth. Well, do it, and be brief ; I will walk by :
(Crosses to L.H.)
I would not kill thy unprepared spirit ;
No,-heaven forefend !-I would not kill thy soul.
Des. Talk you of killing ?
Oth. Ay, I do. (Turns back.)
Des. Then, heaven
Have mercy on me !
Oth. Amen, with all my heart !
Des. Ifyou say so, I hope, you will not kill me.
Oth. Hum !
Des. And yet I fear you ; for you're fatal then,
When your eyes roll so : why I should fear, I know
not,
Since guilt I know not ; but yet, I feel, I fear,
Oth. Think on thy sins.
Des. They're loves I bear to you.
Oth. Ay, and for that thou diest.
Des. That death's unnatural, that kills for loving.
 67
OTHELLO.
Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip ?
Some bloody passion shakes your very frame.
Oth. Peace , and be still !
Des. I will so : -what's the matter ?
Oth. That handkerchief, which I so lov'd, and gave
thee,
Thou gav'st to Cassio.
Des. No, by my life and soul ;
Send for the man, and ask him.
Oth. Sweet soul, take heed,
Take heed of perjury ; thou'rt on thy death-bed.
Des. Ay, but not yet to die.
Oth. Yes, presently :
Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin ;
For to deny each article with oath,
Cannot remove, nor choke the strong conception
That I do groan withal : thou art to die.
Des. Then, Lord have mercy on me !
Oth. I say, amen.
Des. And have you mercy too ? -I never did
Offend you in my life ; never lov'd Cassio,
But with such general warrantry of heaven
him token.
As I might love : I never gave
Oth. By heaven , I saw my handkerchief in his
hand .*-
O perjur'd woman ! thou dost stone thy heart, y
And mak'st me call what I intend to do,
A murder , - which I thought a sacrifice :
I saw the handkerchief.
Des. He found it then ;
I never gave it him :-send for him hither,
And let him confess a truth .
Oth. He has confess'd .
Des. What, my lord ?
Oth. That he hath- us'd thee.
Des. How ? unlawfully ?
Oth. Ay.
Des. He will not say so.
Oth. No, his mouth is stopp'd ;
* This alludes to a scene omitted in the representation .
D 2
 68 OTHELLO .
Honest Iago hath ta'en order for❜t.
Des. My fear interprets then, -what, is he dead?
Oth. Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge
Had stomach for them all .
Des. Alas, he is betray'd, and I undone !
Oth. Out, strumpet ! Weep'st thou for him to my
face ?
Des. O, banish me, my lord , but kill me not.
Oth. Down, strumpet !
Des. Kill me to - morrow, let me live to-night.
1 Oth. Nay, an you strive,
Des. But half an hour,
Oth. Being done,
There is no pause.
Des. But while I say one prayer,
Oth. It is too late..- (He smothers her.)
(Emilia knocks at L.H.D.)
Emil. (Without.) Mylord ! my lord !—What ho ! —
my lord, my lord !
Oth. What noise is this ?-not dead, not yet quite
dead :-
I that am cruel, am yet merciful ;
I would not have thee linger in thy pain *w
So,-so,- (Stabs her with his dagger.)
(Emilia knocks at L.H.D.)
Emil. (Without.) What ho ! -my lord ! my lord !
Oth. Who's there ?
Emil. (Without.) O. good my lord , I'd speak a word
with you.
Oth. Yes ; - 'tis Emilia. - Bye and bye. - She's dead.
"Tis like, she comes to speak of Cassio's death ;
The noise was high.- Ha ! -no more of moving,
Still as the grave.- Shall she come in ? were't good ?
I think she stirs again :-no.- What's the best ?
If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife :-
My wife ! my wife ! -what wife ?-I have no wife.
O, insupportable ! O heavy hour !
Methinks, it should be now a huge eclipse
Of sun and moon ; and that the affrighted globe
Should yawn at alteration .
(Emilia knocks at L.H.D.)
 OTHELLO . 69
Emil. (Without.) I do beseech you, I may speak
with you,
O, good my lord !
Oth. I had forgot thee :-(Crosses to L.H.D. ) 0,
come in, Emilia : — (Unlocks the door.)
Enter EMILIA, L.H.D.
What's the matter with thee now ?
Emil. O, my good lord, yonder's foul murder done.
Oth. What ? now ?
Emil. But now , my lord .
Oth. It is the very error of the moon ;
1.
She comes more near the earth than she was wont,
And makes men mad .
Emil. Cassio, my lord, hath kill'd a young Venetian,
Call'd-Roderigo.
Oth. Roderigo kill'd ?—
And Cassio kill'd ?
Emil. No, Cassio is not kill'd
Oth. Not Cassio kill'd ? Then murder's out of
tune,
And sweet revenge grows harsh.
Des. 0, 0, 0,
Emil. Alas ! what cry is that ?
Oth. That ! what ?
Des. O, falsely, falsely murder'd !
Emil. Out, and alas ! it is my lady's voice :--
Help ! help, ho ! help ! -O lady speak again !
(Rushes to the bed .)
Sweet Desdemona ; O, sweet mistress, speak !
Des. A guiltless death I die.
Emil. O, who has done
This deed ?
Des. Nobody ; I myself ; farewell :
Commend me to my kind lord :-O , farewell !
(She dies.)
Oth. Why, how should she be murder'd ?
Emil. (Advancing.) Alas, who knows ?
Oth. You heard her say herself, it was not I.
Emil. She said so ; I must needs report a truth.
Oth. She's like a liar, gone to burning hel !;
70 OTHELLO.
"Twas I that kill'd her. "
Emil. O, the more angel she,
And you the blacker devil !
Oth. She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore.
Emil. Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil.
Oth. She was as false as water.
Emil. Thou art as rash as fire, to say
That she was false ; O, she was heavenly true !
Oth. Cassio did use her ; ask thy husband else.
O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell,
But that I did proceed upon just grounds
To this extremity : thy husband knew it all .
Emil. My husband ?
Oth. Thy husband.
Emil. That she was false to wedlock ?
Oth. Ay, with Cassio.
Nay, had she been true,
If heaven would make me such another world
Of one entire and perfect chrysolite,
I'd not have sold her for it.
Emil. My husband ? -
Oth What needs this iteration, woman ?
I say, thy husband ; -dost understand the word
My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago.
Emil. If he say so, may his pernicious soul,
Rot half a grain a day ! he lies to the heart ;
She was too fond of her most filthy bargain .
Oth. Ha ?
Emil. Do thy worst :
This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven,
Than thou wast worthy her.
Oth. Peace, you were best;
Emil. Thou hast not half that power to do me harm,
As I have to be hurt. O gull ! O dolt !
As ignorant as dirt ! thou hast done a deed, ---
(He threatens,)
I care not for thy sword ; I'll make thee known,
Though I lost twenty lives :-( Crosses behind to L.H.)
Help ! help, ho ! help !
The Moor has kill'd my mistress ; -murder ! murder !
(Othello goes up the stage and leans upon the bed.)
 OTHELLO . 71

Enter MONTANO, GRATIANO, and IAGO, L.H.D.

Mon. What is the matter ? A

Emil. My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed. -
O, are you come, Iago ? you have done well,
That men must lay their murders on your neck.
Disprove this villain , if thou be'st a man :
He says, thou told'st him that his wife was false ;
I know, thou didst not ; thou'rt not such a villain ; -
Speak, for my heart is full.
Iago. I told him what I thought ; and told no more
Than what he found himself was apt and true.
Emil. But did you ever tell him, she was false ?
Iago. I did.
Emil. You told a lie ; an odious, damned lie ;
Upon my soul, a lie ; a wicked lie :
She false with Cassio ? —Did you say, with Cassio ?
Iago. With Cassio, mistress.
What , are you mad ? I charge you, get you home.
Emil. Good Gentlemen, let me have leave to speak;
'Tis proper I obey him, but not now : —
Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home :
Oth. O! O ! O !-(Falling on the bed.)
Emil, Nay, lay thee down, and roar ;
For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent
That e'er did lift up eye .
Oth. O, she was foul ! - (Rising.)
I scarce did know you, uncle : there lies your niece,
Whose breath, indeed , these hands have newlystopp'd :
I know, this act shows terrible and grim.
Gra. Poor Desdemona ! I am glad thy father's dead;
Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief
Shore* his old thread in twain .
Oth. 'Tis pitiful : but yet Iago knows,
That she with Cassio had the act of shame
A thousand times committed ; Cassio confess'd it :
And she did gratify his amorous works
With the recognizance and pledge of love
Which I first gave her ; I saw it in his hand ;
* Shore.—The irregular past tense of sheer ; cut asunder.
72 OTHELLO .
It was a handkerchief,-an antique token
My father gave my mother.
Emil. O heaven ! O heavenly powers !
That handkerchief, thou speak'st of,
I found by fortune , and did give my husband ;
For often, with a solemn earnestness,
(More than, indeed, belong'd to such a trifle,)
He begg'd of me to steal it.
Iago. Filth, thou liest.
Emil. By heaven , I do not ; I do not, gentlemen.
Oth. Are there no stones in heaven,
Butwhat serve for the thunder ?-Precious villain !
(Othello makes a pass at Iago, Montano disarms him,
-Iago, at the same time, stabs Emilia, and runs out
L.H.D. She falls on the couch, L.H.)
Mont. Take you this weapon,
Which I have here recover'd from the Moor :
Come, guard the door without ; let him not pass,
But kill him rather : I'll after that same villain ,
[Exeunt Montano, and Gratiano, L.H.D.
Oth. I am not valiant neither,
But every puny whipster gets my sword :
But why should honour outlive honesty ?
Let it go all.
Emil. Moor, she was chaste : she lov'd thee, cruel
Moor :
So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true ;
So speaking as I think, I die,-I die. (She dies.)
Oth. I have another weapon in this chamber,
-
It is a sword of Spain, the ice- brook's temper ;
(Crosses to R.H. and fetches the sword.)
O, here it is ;-Uncle, I must come forth.
(To Gratiano without, L.H.D.)
Gra. Ifthou attempt it, it will cost thee dear ;
Thou hast no weapon , and perforce must suffer.
Oth. Look in upon me then, and speak to me,
Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee.
 OTHELLO . 73

Enter GRATIANO , L.H.D.

Behold ! I have a weapon :
A better never did itself sustain
Upon a soldier's thigh : I've seen the day,
That, with this little arm, and this good sword,
I've made my way through more impediments
Than twenty times your stop :-but, O vain boast !
Who can controll his fate ? ' tis not so now,
Do you go back dismay'd ? 'Tis a lost fear.
Man but a rush against Othello's breast,
And he retires -where should Othello go ?
(Goes to the bed.)
Now, how dost thou look now ?-O ill starr'd wench !
Pale as thy sheets !-when we shall meet at compt,
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven ,
And fiends will snatch at it.- Cold, cold, my girl ;
Even like thy chastity.- O cursed slave !
Whip me, ye devils,
From the possession of this heavenly sight !
Blow me about in winds ! roast me in sulphur !
Wash me in steep-down gulphs of liquid fire !—
O Desdemona ! Desdemona ! dead ?-0, 0, 0,—
(Falls down by her.)
Enter LODOVICO, CASSIO, brought in by ANTONIO, and
JULIO, MONTANO, IAGO, prisoner, MARCO, and
PAULO, L.H.D.
Lod. Where is this rash and most unfortunate man ?
Oth. That's he, that was Othello ;-here I am.
Lod. Where is this viper ? bring the villain forth.
Oth. I look down towards his feet ; -but that's a
fable ;
If that thou be'st a devil, I cannot kill thee.
(Othello wounds Iago, and Montano disarms him .)
Iago. (L.H.) I bleed, sir ; but am not kill'd .
Oth. I am not sorry neither ; I'd have thee live ;
For, in my sense, ' tis happiness to die.
Lod. O thou Othello, that was once so good,
74 OTHELLO.

Fall'n in the pratice of à cursed slave,

What shall be said to thee ?
Oth. Why, any thing :
An honourable murderer, if you will ;
For nought did I in hate, but all in honour.
Lod. This wretch hath part confess'd his villainy :
Did you and he consent in Cassio's death ?
Oth. Ay.
Cas. Dear general, I never gave you cause.
Oth. I do believe it, and I ask your pardon.
(To Lod.) Will you, I pray, demand that demi- devil,
Why he hath thus ensnar'd my soul and body ?
Lago. Demand me nothing : what you know, you
know :
From this time forth I never will speak word.
Oth. Well, thou do'st best.
Lod. Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n,
Which, as IΙ think, you know not :-here's a letter,
Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo ;
And here, another : the one of them imports
The death of Cassio to be undertook
By Roderigo : -
Oth. O villain !
Lod. Now here's another discontented paper,
Found in his pocket too ; and this, it seems,
Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain ;
But that, belike, Iago in the interim
Came in, and satisfied him.
Oth. O the pernicious caitiff !
How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief
That was my wife's ? (Pointing to the handkerchief
bound round Cassio's leg.)
Cas. (L.H.) I found it in my chamber :
And he himself confess'd it even now,
That there he dropp'd it, for a special purpose,
Which wrought to his desire.
Oth. O fool ! fool ! fool !
Cas. There is, besides, in Roderigo's letter,
How he upbraids Iago, that he made him
Brave me upon the watch ; whereon it came
 OTHELLO. 75
That I was cast ! And e'en but now he spake,
After long seeming dead,-Iago hurt him,
Iago set him on.
Lod. (To Othello.) You must forsake this room,
and go with us ;
Your power and your command is taken off,
And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave,
If there be any cunning cruelty,
That can torment him much, and hold him long,
It shall be his away with him.
[Exeunt Iago, Paulo, and Marco, L.H.D.
You shall close prisoner rest,
Till that the nature of your fault be known
To the Venetian state : -come, bring him away.
Oth. Soft you ; a word or two, before you go.
I have done the state some service, and they know't ;
No more of that :-I pray you, in your letters,
When you shall these un unlucky deeds relate,
Speak of me as I am ; nothing extenuate,
Nor set down aught in malice : then must you speak
Of one, that lov'd not wisely, but too well ;
Of one, not easily jealous, but, being wrought,
Perplex'd in the extreme :
Of one, whose subdu'd eyes,
Albeit unused to the melting mood,
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
Their medicinal gum.- Set you down this :
And say, besides,-that in Aleppo once,
Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk
Smote a Venetian, and traduc'd the state,
I took by the throat the circumcised dog,
And smote him- thus ! - (Stabs himself.)
O, Desdemona ! (Dies.)
Cas. This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon ;
For he was great of heart.
Lod. Gratiano, keep the house,
And seize upon the fortunes ofthe Moor ;
For they succeed to you ! -To you, lord governor,
Remains the censure of that hellish villain ;
76 OTHELLO .
The time, the place, the torture ,-O enforce it !
Myself will straight aboard ; and to the state,
This heavy act with heavy heart relate.

nd
Disposition ofthe Characters when the Curtain falls.

ou
LO

N
MO
gr
EL
NI NO

IO
e
TOTIA

TH

JUL

EMILI
O

n
. C. AS

. th

A
(O
O

)
.
.
.
AN A

.
( On
the
Couc
h
Finis.

.
R.H. CURTAIN. L.H.

W. OXBERRY, AND CO . PRINTERS,

8, WHITE HART YARD.
 5

Orberry's Edition.

KING JOHN.

HISTORICAL PLAY;

By William Shakspeare.

WITH PREFATORY REMARK S.

THE ONLY EDITION EXISTING WHICH IS FAITHFULLY MARKED

WITH THE STAGE BUSINESS , AND STAGE DIRECTIONS,
1

AS IT IS PERFORMED AT THE

Theatres Koyal.

BY W. OXBERRY, Comedian.

London.

PUBLISHED FOR THE PROPRIETORS, BY W. SIMPKIN, AND

R. MARSHALL, STATIONERS' COUrt, LUDGATE-STREET ;
AND C. CHAPPLE, 66, pall-mall.

1819.
From the Press of W, Oxberry and Co.
8, White-hart Yard.
 Remarks .

KING JOHN .

KING JOHN, though certainly not the best, is amongst the best,
of Shakspeare's Tragic Dramas ; there is in it, a great va
riety of characters and all distinguished with most wonderful
precision. The great defect is, that the interest does not suffi
ciently centre in any one individual of the play, and the death of
King John, the ultimate object, is not obviously connected with the
minor incidents ; yet, even this last censure must be admitted
within certain limits, for a connexion does exist between the general
events and the catastrophe, though not perhaps very strongly
marked ; the quarrel with France, respecting Arthur, leads to the
invasion of that country, the invasion to a treaty ; and from the
breaking of this treaty, by the papal han , arises the violent seizure
of the property of the Church, and this again induces the poisoning
of the monarch, by a revengeful monk.. In all this, there seems to
be no want of context ; not a link in the chain is broken ; the fact
seems to be, that the beginning and the end are too remote from each
other ; there are too many connecting links between the first and
the last object, that when we have attained the one, we lose sight
ofthe other.
The character of John , though drawn with great accuracy and
vigour is not precisely one of those which affect our sympathy or
excite our admiration ; vice, when accompanied by any splendid
quality, whether it be wit, or mind, or courage, is sure to obtain our
reluctant approbation ; in the scale of depravity, Richard is infi
nitely above King John, yet the giant iniquities of the former
always delight ; while the cold, weak, suspicious John lives with
out our pleasure and dies without our regret. Not that we would
infer that the character of John is less true to nature ; far from it,
but there are some virtues as well as vices, which are too quiet to
excite our sympathy.
 ii
Faulconbridge, is one ofthose characters which Shakspeare appa
rently delighted to draw, and in which he has never found a rival.
In Congreve, and in the French Comedies, all the witty characters
seem to be wits by profession ; their aim is, ever to say, smart
pointed things ; and certainly, these efforts are successful ; -but
Shakspeare's Faulconbridge has no effort ; he is humorous from the
overflowing abundance of his fancy, and from animal spirits that are
incapable of restraint ; with him wit is a part of his nature, a qua
lity which he can no more change than the height of his stature ;
with the French, wit is an assumption ; a thing of education, or
rather of habit.
The grief of Constance, on the loss of her darling child, is another
proof of Shakspeare's admirable knowledge of the human heart ; it
is not only true to nature, but true to character ; it is indeed royal
grief.
The scene between Hubert and the child, though it has been
much praised, has little deserved it ; the wretched conceits put into
the mouth of young Arthur, are fatal to it ; and, neither on the
stage, or in the closet, does it produce the least effect.
As a whole, though the plot is far from excellent, and the language
with few exceptions is not of the first order, yet the variety and ex
quisite truth of the characters, place it high in the scale of dramatie
composition.

Time of Representation.
The time this piece takes in representation, is two hours and
thirty minutes. The first act occupies the space of thirty
minutes ; the second, twenty-nine;-the third, thirty ;-the
fourth thirty-five ;-and the fifth, twenty-six. The half price
commences, generally, at a quarter before nine o'clock.
 Costume.

KING JOHN.
Orange kerseymere tunick, richly embroidered, purple velvet
robe embroidered, chain armour for the legs and arms, gauntlets,
and helmet.
PRINCE HENRY.
Scarlet kerseymere old English dress embroidered with gold.
PRINCE ARTHUR.
White kerseymere old English dress.
EARL OF PEMBROKE,
Black velvet old English dress, amber satin puffs , and dress richly
embroidered.
EARL OF ESSEX.
A green old English dress, white satin puffs and richly em
broidered.
EARL OF SALISBURY.
A fawn coloured old English dress , and white satin puffs em
broidered with silver.
HUBERT.
A black velvet old English dres and black satin puffs.
FAULCONBRIDGE.
First dress .- Brown old English tunick with buff satin trimming,
and buff kerseymere pantaloons. Second dress .-Mail armour.
ROBERT FAULCONBRIDGE.
A fawn coloured old English tunick, and pantaloons trimmed
with sky-blue.
JAMES GURNEY.
A green tunick, and pantaloons trimmed with amber coloured
satin .
ENGLISH HERALD .
A buff old English dress trimmed with silver, and a Herald's coat.
FRENCH HERALD.
A blue jacket and trunks, and a Herald's coat.
ARCHDUKE OF AUSTRIA.
A complete suit of armour.
KING OF FRANCE.
White tunick, and crimson robe, richly embroidered.
DAUPHIN.
First dress. A white purple dress, richly embroidered . Second
dress. A complete suit of armour.
CARDINAL.
A scarlet chemise and robe, a scarlet hat, and dress trimmed with
point lace.
CONSTANCE.
Black velvet dress trimmed with gold.
QUEEN.
Purple velvet dress trimmed with gold.
BLANCH.
White satin dress trimmed with point lace and beads.
LADY FAULCONBRIDGE.
Grey cloth dress trimmed with black velvet, open in the front,
and white satin petticoat.
 Persons Represented .

Drury-lane. Covent-garden.
John, King ofEngland Mr. Kean. Mr. Young..
Prince Henry Mr. Barnard. Mr. Menage .
Earl of Pembroke. Mr. S. Stanley. Mr. Treby.
Earl of Essex Mr. Kent. Mr. T. Matthews.
Earl of Salisbu ry. Mr. Bengough, Mr. Connor.
Hubert Mr. Pope. Mr. Egerton.
Faulconbridge .... Mr. Wallack. Mr. C. Kemble.
Robert Faulconbridge Mr. Coveney. Mr. King.
English Herald..... Mr. Minton. Mr. Jefferies.
James Gurney .... Mr. Miller. Mr. Crumpton.
1st Executioner .. Mr. Ebsworth. Mr. Atkins.
2nd Executioner .... Mr. Buxton. Mr. Banks.
Philip, King ofFrance ………. Mr. R. Phillips. Mr. B. Thornton .
Lewis, the Dauphin ...... Mr. Penley. Mr. Abbott.
Prince Arthur Miss C. Carr. Miss Boden.
Archduke of Austria.. Mr. T. P. Cooke. Mr. Comer.
Cardinal Pandulph Mr. Holland. Mr. Chapman.
Chatillon .... Mr. Carr. Mr. Claremont,
French Herald Mr. Marshall. Mr. Faucit.
Mr. Duruset.
Citizens ofAngiers Mr. Powell. Mr. Collet.
{ Mr. Platt.

Queen Elinor.... .... Miss Tidswell. Mrs. Egerton,

The Lady Constance Miss Macauley. Miss O'Neill.
Blanch, of Castile.. .... • Mrs. Robinson, Miss Foote.
Lady Faulconbridge Mrs. Coveney. Miss Logan.

Stage Directions.
By R.H....... .is meant.... ... Right Hand.
L.H..... Left Hand .
S.E ...... .. Second Entrance.
U.E... .. Upper Entrance.
M.D... Middle Door.
D.F... .. Door in Flat.
R.H.D... • .... Right Hand Door.
L.H.D. .. .... Left Hand Door.
 KING JOHN .

ACT I.

SCENE I.- England. - The Palace.

(Flourish of Trumpets and Drums.)

King JOHN upon the Throne, Queen ELINOR, PEM

BROKE, HUBERT, French Gentlemen and CHA
TILLON, on his R.H. SALISBURY, and ESSEX, on
his L.H.- Guards and English Gentlemen on
each side the Throne.

John. Now, say, Chatillon, what would France with

us ?
Cha. Thus, after greeting, speaks the king of France,
(Puts on his cap.)
In my behaviour * to the majesty,
The borrow'd majesty of England here.
Eli. A strange beginning, -borrow'd majesty !
John. Silence, good mother ; hear the embassy.
Cha. Philip of France, in right and true behalf
Of thy deceased brother, Geffrey's son,

In the manner I now do.

B
2 KING JOHN.
Arthur Plantagenet, lays most lawful claim
To this fair island and the territories ;
To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine :
Desiring thee to lay aside the sword,
Which sways usurpingly these several titles ;
And put the same into young Arthur's hand,
Thy nephew, and right royal sovereign.
John. What follows, if we disallow of this ?
Cha. The proud control of fierce and bloody war,
To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld.
John. Here have we war for war, and blood for
blood,
Controlment for controlment-so answer France.
Cha. Then take my king's defiance from my mouth,
The furthest limit of my embassy.
(Takes offhis cap.)
John. Bear mine to him : and so depart in peace :
Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France ;
For ere thou canst report I will be there,
The thunder of my cannon shall be heard.
So, hence ! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath,
And sullen presage of your own decay.
An honourable conduct let him have ;
Hubert, look to't.-Farewell, Chatillon.
[Exeunt Chatillon, Hubert, and the French
Gentlemen, R.H.
Eli. What now, my son ? have I not ever said,
How that ambitious Constance would not cease,
Till she had kindled France, and all the world,
Upon the right and party of her son ?
This might have been prevented and made whole,
With very easy arguments of love ;
Which now the managet of two kingdoms must
With fearful bloody issue arbitrate .

Enter English Herald, who whispers Essex, L.H.

John. Our strong possession, and our right, for us.

* Opposition. Conduct, administration.

 KING JOHN. 3
Eli. Your strong possession, much more than your
right ;
" Or else it must go wrong wit you, and me.
h
Ess. My liege, here is the strangest controversy,
Come from the country to be judg'd by you,
That e'er I heard. Shall I produce the men ?
John. Let them approach.
[Exit English Herald, L.A.
Our abbies, and our priories shall pay
This expedition's charge.

Enter English Herald with PHILIP, and ROBERT

FAULCONBRIDGE, L.h.

What men are you ?

[ Exit English Herald, L,H.
Faul. Your faithful subject I, a gentleman,
Born in Northamptonshire, and eldest son,
As I suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge ;
A soldier, by the honour-giving hand
Of Coeur-de-lion knighted in the field,
John. What art thou ?
Rob. The son and heir of that same Faulconbridge.
John. Is that the elder, and art thou the heir ?
You came not of one mother then, it seems.
Faul. Most certain of one mother, mighty king,
That is well known ; and, as I think, one father ;
But, for the certain knowledge of that truth,
I put you o'er to heaven, and to my mother;
Of that I doubt, as all men's children may.
Eli. Out on thee, rude man ! thou dost shame thy
mother,
And wound her honour with this diffidence.
Faul. I, madam ? No, I have no reason for it ;
That is my brother's plea, and none of mine ;
The which if he can prove, 'a pops me out
At least from fair five hundred pound a year.
Heav'n guard my mother's honour and my land !
John. A good blunt fellow.-Why, being younger
born,
B 2
 KING JOHN.
Doth he lay claim to thine inheritance ?
Faul. I know not why, except to get the land.
But once he slander'd me with bastardy :
But whether I be as true begot, or no,
That still I lay upon my mother's head ;
But that I am as well begot, my liege,
(Fair fall the bones that took the pains for me !)
Compare our faces, and be judge yourself.
If old sir Robert did beget us both,
And were our father, and this son like him :
O, old sir Robert, father, on my knee
I give heaven thanks, I was not like to thee .
John. Why, what a mad- cap hath heaven lent us
here !
Eli. He hath a trick* of Coeur-de- lion's face,
The accent of his tongue affecteth him.
Do you not read some tokens of my son
In the large composition of this man ?
John. Mine eye hath well examined his parts,
And finds them perfect Richard . - Sirrah, speak,
What doth move you to claim your brother's land ?
Rob. My gracious liege, when that my father liv'd,
Your brother did employ my father much
Faul. Well, sir, by this you cannot get my land,
Your tale must be how he employ'd my mother.
Rob. And once despatch'd him in an embassy
To Germany, there with the emperor ,
To treat of high affairs touching that time,
The advantage of his absence took the king,
And in the mean time sojourned at my father's ;
Where how he did prevail, I shame to speak :
But truth, is truth : large lengths of seas and shores
Between my father and my mother lay,
(As I have heard my father speak himself,)
When this same lusty gentleman was got.
Upon his death-bed, he by will bequeath'd
His lands to me : and took it on his death ,
That this, my mother's son, was none of his

* Trace, outline.
 KING JOHN. 5
And, if he were, he came into the world
Full fourteen weeks before the course of time.
Then, good my liege, let me have what is mine,
My father's land, as was my father's will .
John. Sirrah, your brother is legitimate ;
Your father's wife did after wedlock bear him :
And, if she did play false, the fault was hers ;
Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbands
That marry wives. #
Your father's heir must have your father's land .
Rob. Shall then my father's will be of no force
To dispossess that child which is not his ?
Faul. Of no more force to dispossess me, sir,
Than was his will to get me, as I think.
Eli. Whether hadst thou rather, be a Faulconbridge,
And like thy brother, to enjoy thy land ;
Or the reputed son of Coeur - de - lion ,
Lord of thy presence*, and no land beside ?
Faul. Madam, an if my brother had my shape,
And I had his, sir Robert his, like him ;
And if my legs were two such riding-rods,
My arms such eel- skins stuff'd ; my face so thin ;
And, to his shape, were heir to all this land,
'Would I might never stir from off this place,
I'd give it every foot to have this face ;
I would not be sir Nob‡ in any case.
Eli. I like thee well.-Wilt thou forsake thy for
tune,
Bequeath thy land to him, and follow me ?
I am a soldier, and now bound to France.
Faul. Brother, take you my land , I'll take my
chance
Your face hath got five hundred pounds a year ;
Yet sell your face for five pence , and ' tis dear .
Madam, I'll follow you unto the death .
Eli. Nay, I would have you go before me thither.
Faul. Our country manners give our betters way.
John. What is thy name ?
* Great in thine own person.
+ Sir Nob is used contemptuously for Sir Robert.
B3
 6 KING JOHN.
Faul. Philip, my liege, so is my name begun ';
Philip, good old sir Robert's wife's eldest son.
John. From henceforth bear his name, whose form
thou bear'st.
Kneel thou down, Philip, but arise more great ;
Arise sir Richard, and Plantagenet .
Faul. Brother, by the mother's side, give me your
hand ;
My father gave me honour, yours gave land.
Now blessed be the hour, by night or day,
When I was got, sir Robert was away.
John. (Comes down. ) Go, Faulconbridge ! now hast
thou thy desire,
A landless knight makes thee a landed ' squire.—
[Exit, Robert Faulconbridge, L.H.
Come, madam, and come, Richard, -we must speed
For France, for France : for it is more than need .
(Flourish of Drums and Trumpets . )
[Exeunt all but Faulconbridge.- King John,
and Elinor, led by Pembroke, R.H. - Salisbury,
Essex, and two English Gentlemen and La
dies, R.H. U.E,
1Faul. A foot of honour better than I was ;
But many a many foot of land the worse .
Well, now can I make any Joan a lady- .-
" Good den* sir Richard" - " God-a-mercy fel
low !"
And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter ;
For new-made honour doth forget men's names ;
But who comes in such haste ?
What woman-post is this ? hath she no husband,
That will take pains to blow a horn before her ?—
O me! it is my mother.

Enter Lady FAULCONBRIDGE, and GURNEY, L.H.

How now, good lady ?

What brings you here to court so hastily ?

* Good evening.
 KING JOHN. sig
L. Faul. Where is that slave, thy brother ? where
is he ?
That holds in chase mine honour up and down ?
Faul. My brother Robert ? Old sir Robert's son ?
Colbrand the giant, that same mighty man ?
Is it sir Robert's son, that you seek so ?
L. Faul. Sir Robert's son ! Aye, thou unreverend
boy,
Sir Robert's son : why scorn'st thou at sir Robert ?
He is sir Robert's son, and so art thou.
Faul. James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave a
while ? (Crosses to Centre.)
Gur. Good leave,* good Philip .
Faul. Philip ?-Sparrow !-James,
There's toys abroad+ ; anon I'll tell thee more.
[Exit Gurney, L.H.
Madam, I was not old sir Robert's son ;
Sir Robert might have eat his part in me
Upon Good Friday, and ne'er broke his fast.
Sir Robert could do well ; -marry, (to confess,)
Could he get me ? Sir Robert could not do it ;
We know his handy-work. - Therefore, good mother,
To whom am I beholden for these limbs ?
Sir Robert never holp to make this leg.
L. Faul. Hast thou conspired with thy brother too,
That for thine own gain should'st defend mine honour ?
What means this scorn , thou most untoward knave ?
Faul. Knight, knight, good mother,-Basilisco
liket !
What ! I am dubb'd ! I have it on my shoulder.
But, mother, I am not sir Robert's son ;
I have disclaim'd sir Robert, and my land
Legitimation , name, and all is gone :
Then, good my mother, let me know my father ;
Some proper man, I hope.-Who was it, mother ?
L. Faul. Hast thou denied thyself a Faulconbridge?
Faul. As faithfully as I deny the devil .

* A ready assent. Rumours, idle reports.- A character in an

old drama, called Soliman and Perseda.
B4
 8 KİNG JOHN .
L. Faul. King Richard Coeur-de-lion was thy fa
ther ;
By long and vehement suit I was seduc'd
To make room for him in my husband's bed :
Thou art the issue of my dear offence.
Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge !
Faul. Now, by this light, were I to get again,
Madam, I would not wish a better father.
Some sins do bear their privilege on earth,
And so doth yours ; your fault was not your folly :
Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose,
Against whose fury and unmatched force
The awless lion could not wage the fight,
Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand.
He, that perforce robs lions of their hearts,
May easily win a woman's . Ah, my mother,
With all my heart I thank thee for my father !
Who lives and dares but say, thou didst not well
When I was got, I'll send his soul to hell. -
(Crosses to R.H.)
Come, lady, I will show thee to my kin ;
And they shall say, when Richard me begot,
If thou hadst said him nay, it had been sin—
Who says, it was, he lies ; I say, ' twas not.
[Exeunt, L.H.
END OF ACT I.

ACT II.

SCENE I.- France.- The Walls of Angiers.

(Flourish of Drums and Trumpets, R.H.)

Enter PHILIP, King of France, LEWIS, the Dauphin,

L.H. ARTHUR, CONSTANCE, the Archduke of
AUSTRIA, French Herald, Gentlemen, a Trumpet,
and Guards, R.H.

Phil. Before Angiers well met, brave Austria.

Arthur, that great forerunner of thy blood,
 KING JOHN. " 9
Richard, that robb'd the lion of his heart,*
And fought the holy wars in Palestine,
By this brave duke came early to his grave ;
And, for amends to his posterity,
At our importancet hither is he come,
To spread his colours, boy, in thy behalf;
And to rebuke the usurpation
Of thy unnatural uncle, English John,—
Embrace him, love him , give him welcome hither.
Arth. (To Austria. ) Heaven shall forgive you
Coeur-de-lion's death ,
The rather, that you give his offspring life,
Shadowing their right under your wings of war :
I give you welcome with a powerless hand,
But with a heart full of unstained love .
Welcome, before the gates of Angiers , duke.
Lew. A noble boy ! Who would not do thee right ?
Aust. Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss,
As seal to this indenture of my love ;
That to my home I will no more return,
Till Angiers, and the right thou hast in France,
Together with that pale, that white-fac'd shore, ‡
Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides,
Even till that England , hedg'd in with the main,
That water-walled bulwark, still secure
And confident from foreign purposes,
Salute thee for her king : till then, fair boy,
Will I not think of home, but follow arms.
Con. (Crosses to Austria.) O, take his mother's
thanks, a widow's thanks,
Till your strong hand shall help to give him strength,
To make a more§ requital to your love.

* It is sayd that a lyon was put to kynge Richard , beynge in pri

son, to have devoured him , and when the lyon was gapynge he put
his arme in his mouth and pulled the lyon by the harte so hard,
that he slewe the lyon ; and therefore some say he is called Ry
charde Cure de Lyon. Some say he is called Cure de Lyon, because
of his boldness and hardy stomake. -Rastal's Chronicle.
Importunity.
England is supposed to be called Albion from the white rocks
facing France.
§ Greater.
B 5
10 KING JOHN.

Aus. The peace of heaven is theirs, that lift their

swords
In such a just and charitable war.
Phil. Well then, to work ; our cannon shall be bent
Against the brows of this resisting town.
We'll lay before this town our royal bones,
But we will make it subject to this boy.
Con. Stay for an answer to your embassy,
Lest unadvis'd you stain your swords with blood :
My lord Chatillon may from England bring
That right in peace, which here we urge in war ;
And then we shall repent each drop of blood,
That hot rash haste so indirectly shed.
(A Trumpet sounds, L.H. )
Phil. A wonder, lady ! -lo , upon thy wish,
Our messenger Chatillon is arriv'd.

Enter CHATILLON, and two French Gentlemen, L.H.

What England says, say briefly, gentle lord ;

Chatillon, speak.
Cha. Then turn your forces from this paltry siege,
And stir them up against a mightier task.
England, impatient of your just demands,
Hath put himself in arms- the adverse winds,
Whose leisure I have staid, have given him time
To land his legions all as soon as I.—
With him along is come the mother- queen,
An Atè*, stirring him to blood and strife :
With her, her niece, the lady Blanch of Spain :
With them a bastard of the king deceas'd ;
And all the unsettled humours of the land.
In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits ,
Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er,
Did never float upon the swelling tide,
To do offence and scatht in Christendom.
(A March at a distance, L.H. U.E.)
* The Goddess of Revenge, Destruction, harm.
 KING JOHN. 11
The interruption of their churlish drums
Cuts off more circumstance they are at hand,
To parley, or to fight ; therefore , prepare .
Phil. How much unlook'd for is this expedition !
(A March in Orchestra .)

Enter King JOHN, FAULCONBRIDGE, ELINOR, SALIS

BURY, BLANCH, PEMBROKE, ESSEX, HUBERT,
English Herald, Gentlemen, a Trumpet, and
Guards, L.H.

John. Peace be to France ; if France in peace

permit
Our just and lineal entrance to our own !
If not, bleed France, and peace ascend to heaven !
Phil. Peace be to England : if that war return
From France to England, there to live in peace !—
Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face :—
These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his :
That Geffrey was thy elder brother born,
And this his son ; England was Geffrey's right,
And this is Geffrey's. In the name of heaven,
How comes it then , that thou art call'd a king,
When living blood doth in these temples beat,
Which owe the crown that thou o'er masterest?
John. From whom hast thou this great commission
France,
To draw my answer from thy articles ?
Phil. From that supernal Judge, that stirs good
thoughts
In any breast of strong authority,
To look into the blots and stains of right.
That Judge hath made me guardian to this boy ;
Under whose warrant, I impeach thy wrong.
John. Alack, thou dost usurp authority.
Phil. Excuse ; —it is to beat usurping down.
Eli. Who is it, thou dost call usurper, France ?
Con. Let me make answer : -thy usurping son.
Arth. Good my mother, peace !
I would, that I were low laid in my grave ;
B 6
12 KING JOHN.
I am not worth this coil, that's made for me.
Eli. His mother shames him so, poor boy, he
weeps.
Con. His grandam's wrongs, and not his mother's
shames,
Draw those heaven-moving pearls from his poor eyes,
Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee ;
Ay, with these crystal beads heaven shall be brib'd
To do him justice, and revenge on you.
Eli. Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and earth !
Aust. Peace !
Faul. Hear the crier.
Aust. What the devil art thou ?
Faul. One that will play the devil, sir, with you,
An ' a may catch your hide* and you alone.
You are the hare of whomthe proverb goes ,
Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard ;
I'll smoke your skin -coat and I catch you right ;
Sirrah, look to't : i'faith , I will , i'faith .
Phil. King John, this is the very sum of all ,
England, and Ireland, Anjou , Touraine, Maine,
In right of Arthur do I claim of thee :
Wilt thou resign them, and lay down thy arms ?
John. My life as soon ;-I do defy thee, France .
Arthur of Bretagne, yield thee to my hand ;
And, out of my dear love, I'll give thee more
Than e'er the coward hand of France can win.
Phil. Some trumpet summon hither to the walls,
These men of Angiers ; let us hear them speak,
Whose title they admit, Arthur's, or John's.
(The French trumpet sounds a parley.)

Enter Three Citizens upon the walls.

Cit. Who is it, that hath warn'd us to the walls ?

Phil. 'Tis France for England.

Austria, who killed Richard Cœur de Lion , wore, as the spoil

of that prince, a lion's hide, which had belonged to him This
circumstance renders the anger of the bastard very natural.
 1

KING JOHN. 13
John. England, for itself:
You men of Angiers, and my loving subjects,
Phil. You loving men of Angiers, Arthur's sub
jects ,
Our trumpet called you to this gentle parle.
John. For our advantage ;-therefore, hear us
first.
These flags of France, that are advanced here
Before the eye and prospect of your town,
Have hither march'd to your endamagement :
All preparation for a bloody siege,
And merciless proceeding by these French,
Confront your city's eyes, your winking gates ;*
But, on the sight of us, your lawful king,
Behold, the French, amaz'd, vouchsafe a parle :
And now, instead of bullets wrapp'd in fire,
To make a shaking fever in your walls,
They shoot but calm words, folded up in smoke,
To make a faithless error in your ears ;
Which trust accordingly, kind citizens,
And let us in, your king, whose labour'd spirits,
Forweary'd in this action of swift speed,
Crave harbourage within your city walls.
Phil. When have said, make answer to us both.
Lo, in this right hand,
Stands young Plantagenet ;
Son to the elder brother of this man ,
And king o'er him, and all that he enjoys :
For this down- trodden equity, we tread
In warlike march these greens before your town ;
Being no further enemy to you ,
Than the constraint of hospitable zeal,
In the relief of this oppressed child,
Religiously provokes.
Then, tell us, shall your city call us lord,
In that behalf which we have challeng'd it ?
Or shall we give the signal to our rage ,
And stalk in blood to our possession ?

* Gates, hastily closed from an apprehension of danger.

+ Worn out.
14 KING JOHN.

Cit. In brief, we are the king of England's sub

jects ;
For him, and in his right, we hold this town.
John. Acknowledge then the king, and let me in.
Cit. That can we not ; but he that proves the king,
To him will we prove loyal ; till that time ,
Have we ramm'd up our gates against the world..
John. Doth not the crown of England prove the
king ?
And, if not that, I bring you witnesses,
Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's breed,
Faul. Bastards , and else .
John. To verify our title with their lives .
Phil. As many, and as well born bloods as those,
Faul. Some bastards too .
Phil. Stand in his face, to contradict his claim.
Cit. Till you compound whose right is worthiest,
We, for the worthiest , hold the right from both.
John. Then heaven forgive the sin of all those
souls,
That to their everlasting residence,
Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet,
In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king !
Phil. Amen, amen ! -Mount, chevaliers ! to arms !
(Flourish ofDrums, and Trumpets .)
[Exeunt, all but Austria, and Faulconbridge, the
English, L.H. and the French, R.H.
Faul. Saint George, that swing'd the dragon, an
e'er since ,
Sits on his horseback, at mine hostess' door,
Teach us some fence !-Sirrah, were I at home,
At your den, sirrah, with your lioness,
I'd set an ox-head to your lion's hide,
And make a monster ofyou.
Aust. Peace ; no more.
Faul. O, tremble ; for you hear the lion roar.
[Exeunt Austria, R.H. and Faulconbridge, L.H.
(Alarms R.H. and L.H.)
 KING JOHN. 15

Enter French Herald, R.H. with a trumpet, who

sounds a parley.

F. Her. You men of Angiers, open wide your

gates,
And let young Arthur, duke of Bretagne, in ;
Who, by the hand of France, this day hath made
Much work for tears in many an English mother,
Whose sons lie scatter'd on the bleeding ground ;
While victory with little loss, doth play
Upon the dancing banners of the French ;
Who are at hand , triumphantly display'd,
To enter conquerors, and to proclaim
Arthur of Bretagne, England's king and yours.

Enter English Herald, L.H. with a trumpet, who

sounds a parley.

E. Her. Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your

bells ;
King John, your king and England's, doth approach,
Commander of this hot malicious day !
Our colours do return in those same hands
That did display them when we first march'd forth ;
And, like a jolly troop of huntsmen , come
Our lusty English, all with purpled hands,
Died in the dying slaughter of their foes:
Open your gates, and give the victors way.
Cit. Heralds, from offour towers we might behold,
From first to last, the onset and retire
Of both your armies ; whose equality
By our best eyes cannot be censured ; *
Blood hath bought blood, and blows have answer'd
blows ;
One must prove greatest ; while they weigh so even,
We hold our town for neither ; yet for both.
(A charge.)
* Cannot be estimated.
16 KING JOHN .

.
Enter the two Kings, with their Powers, as before,
the English, L.H. the French, R.H.

John. France, hast thou yet more blood to cast

away ?
Say, shall the current of our right run on ?
Phil. England, thou hast not sav'd one drop of
blood,
In this hot trial, more than we of France ;
Rather, lost more. And by this hand I swear,
That sways the earth, this climate overlooks,
Before we will lay down our just borne arms,
We'll put thee down, ' gainst whom these arms we
bear,
Or add a royal number to the dead.
Faul. Ha, majesty ! how high thy glory towers,
When the rich blood of kings is set on fire !
Why stands these royal fronts amazed thus ?
Cry, havock, kings !* back to the stained field,
You equal potents,† fiery kindled spirits !
Then let confusion of one part confirm
The other's peace : till then, blows, blood, and death !
(Goes up to the Gates.)
John. Whose party do the townsmen yet admit ?
Phil. Speak, citizens, for England ; who's your
king ?
Cit. The king of England, when we know the king.
Phil. Know him in us, that here hold up his right.
John. In us, that are our own great deputy ;
Lord ofour presence, Angiers, and of you.
Cit. A greater power than we, denies all this ;
And, till it be undoubted, we do lock
Our former scruple in our strong - barr'd gates.
Faul. By heaven, these scroylest of Angiers flout
you, kings ; (Comes down between the Kings .)

That is command slaughter to proceed.-+ Potentates.

Escroulles, Fr. i. e. scabby, scrophulous fellows.
 KING JOHN. 17
Your royal presences be ruled by me :
Be friends a while and both conjointly bend
Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town ;
By east and west let France and England mount
Their battering cannon, charged to the mouths ;
Till their soul-fearing clamours* have brawl'd down
The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city :
That done, dissever your united strengths,
And part your mingled colours once again ;
Turn face to face and bloody point to point ;
Then, in a moment, fortune shall cull forth
Out of one side her happy minion ;
To whom in favour she shall give the day,
And kiss him with a glorious victory.
How like you this wild counsel, mighty states ?
Smacks it not something of the policy ?
John. Now, by the sky that hangs above our heads,
I like it well ;-France, shall we knit our powers,
And lay this Angiers even with the ground ;
Then, after, fight who shall be king of it ?
Phil. Let it be so :-Say, where will you assault ?
John. We from the west will send destruction
Into this city's bosom.
Aust. I from the north.
Phil. Our thunder from the south
Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town.
Faul. O prudent discipline ! From north to south ;
Austria and France shoot in each others mouth :
I'll stir them to it ;-( Aside. ) Come, away, away!
(Each party move, R.H. and L.H.)
Cit. Hear us, great kings Vouchsafe a while to stay,
And I shall show you peace, and fair - fac'd league ;
Win you this city without stroke or wound.
Persevere not, but hear me, mighty kings.
John. Speak on, with favour ; we are bent to hear.
(All sheath their swords .)
Cit. That daughter there of Spain, the lady Blanch,
Is near to England : Look upon the years

* Soul appalling.
18 KING JOHN.
Of Lewis the dauphin, and that lovely maid,
O, two such silver currents, when they join,
Do glorify the banks that bound them in :
Two such controlling bounds shall you be, kings,
To these two princes , if you marry them .
This union shall do more than battery can,
To our fast- closed gates ;
(Elinor gives Blanch to King John.)
Without this match,
The sea enraged is not half so deaf,
Lions more confident, mountains and rocks
More free from motion : no, not death himself
In mortal fury half so peremptory,
As we to keep this city.
Faul. Here's a stay,
That shakes the rotten carcase of old death
Out of his rags ! Here's a large mouth, indeed,
That spits forth death, and mountains, rocks, and seas ;
Talks as familiarly of roaring lions,
As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs !
What cannoneer begot this lusty blood ?
Zounds ! I was never so bethump'd with words
Since I first call'd my brother's father, dad .
Cit. Why answer not the double majesties
This friendly treaty of our threaten'd town ?
Phil. What say'st thou , boy ? look in the lady's
face .
Lew. I do, my lord ; and in her eye I find
A wonder or a wondrous miracle,
The shadow of myself,
Drawn in the flattering table of her eye
(King John, King Philip, Lewis, and Blanch,
talk apart .)
C
Faul. Drawn in the flattering table* of her eye !
Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow !
And quarter'd in her heart ! -he doth espy
Himselflove's traitor. This is pity now,

* Table, is picture, or rather, the board or canvas on which any

object is painted.
 KING JOHN. 19

That hang'd, and drawn, and quarter'd, there shouldbe,

In such a love, so vile a lout as he.
John. What say these young ones ? What say you,
my niece ?
Blan. That she is bound in honour still to do
What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say.
John. Speak then, prince dauphin ; can you love
this lady?
Lew. Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love ;
For I do love her most unfeignedly.
John. Philip of France, if thou be pleas'd withal,
Command thy son and danghter to join hands .
Phil. It likes us well ;-Young princes, close your
hands. (Gives Blanch to Lewis who is R.H.)
Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your gates,
Let in that amity which you have made.—
[Exeunt Citizens.
Is not the lady Constance in this troop ?
Lew. She is, sad and passionate* , at your highness'
tent.
Phil. Brother of England, how may we content
This widow lady !
(The Citizens open the gates, and enter, to pre
sent the keys of the town.)
John. We will heal up all :
For we ' ll create young Arthur duke of Bretagne,
And earl of Richmond ; and this rich fair town
We make him lord of.- Call the lady Constance,
Some speedy messenger ; bid her repair
To our solemnity.
[Exit Salisbury, L.H.
Go we, as well as haste will suffer us,
To this unlook'd-for, unprepared , pomp.
(Flourish ofDrums and Trumpets.)
[Exeunt all but Faulconbridge, into the town.
Faul. Mad world ! mad kings ! mad composition !
John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole,
Hath willingly departed with a part ; †
* Passionate, in this instance does not signify disposed to anger,
but a prey to mournful sensations.
+ To part and to depart were formerly synonymous.
20 KING JOHN.

And France, (whose armour conscience buckled on ;

Whom zeal and charity brought to the field,
As heaven's own soldier, ) rounded in the ear *
With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil ;
That smooth-fac'd gentleman, tickling commodity. †
This bawd, this broker, this all- changing word,
Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France,
Hath drawn him from his own determin'd aid,
From a resolv'd and honourable war,
To a most base and vile concluded peace.
And why rail I on this commodity?
But for because he hath not woo'd me yet :
Not that I have the power to clutch § my hand,
When his fair angels ¶ would salute my palm ;
But for my hand, as unattempted yet,
Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich.
Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail,
And say, there is no sin, but to be rich ;
And being rich, my virtue then shall be,
G
To say, there is no vice, but beggary :
Since kings break faith upon commodity,
Gain, be my lord ! for I will worship thee !
[Exit into the town.

END OF ACT II.

ACT III.

SCENE I.- France. The French King's Tent.

Enter ARTHUR, CONSTANCE, L.H. and SALISBURY,

R.H. through the tent.

Con. Gone to be married ! gone to swear a peace !

False blood to false blood join'd ! Gone to be friends !
Shall Lewis have Blanch ? and Blanch those provinces ?
Whispered. + Interest.
A brokerin old language meant a pimp or procuress.
§ To clasp close. ¶ Gold coin , || Because.
 KING JOHN . 21

It is not so ; thou hast mis- spoke, mis- heard ;

I have a king's oath to the contrary.
Why dost thou look so sadly on my son ?
Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum,
Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds ?
Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words ?
Then speak again ; not all thy former tale,
But this one word, whether thy tale be true ?
Sal. As true, as, I believe, you think them false,
That gave you cause to prove my saying true.
Con. O, if thou teach me to believe this sorrow,
Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die.
Lewis marry Blanch ! O, boy, then where art thou ?
France friend with England ! what becomes of me ?—
Fellow, be gone ; I cannot brook thy sight.
Arth. I do beseech you, madam , be content.
Con. If thou, that bid'st me be content, wert grim,
Ugly,
Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-offending marks,
I would not care , I then would be content :
But thou art fair ; and at thy birth,—dear boy !—
Nature and fortune join'd to make thee great :
Of nature's gifts thou may'st with lilies boast,
And with the half-blown rose : but fortune, O !
She is corrupted, chang'd, and won from thee :
She adulterates hourly with thine uncle John ;
And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on France
To treaddown fair respect of sovereignty.
Tell me, thou fellow, is not France, forsworn ?
Envenom him with words ; or get thee gone,
And leave those woes alone, which I alone,
Am bound to underbear.
Sal. Pardon me, madam,
I may not go without you to the kings.
Con: Thou may'st, thou shalt, I will not go with
thee :
I will instruct my sorrows to be proud ;
For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout.
To me, and to the state of my great grief,
Let kings assemble ; for my grief's so great,
22 KING JOHN.
That no supporter but the huge firm earth
Can hold it up : here I and sorrow sit ;
Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.
(Throws herself on the ground, L.H.- Arthur stands
on her L.H.)

(Flourish of Drums and trumpets, L.H. U.E.)

Enter KING JOHN, KING PHILIP, LEWIS, BLANCH,
AUSTRIA, ELINOR, FAULCONBRIDGE, CHATILLON,
PEMBROKE, ESSEX, HUBERT, English Herald,
French Herald, English and French Gentlemen,
and Guards, from the Tent, L.H. U.E.

(King John, on his entrance takes his seat L.H. Elinor

is at his L.H. and behind his chair Faulconbridge,
nextto the Queen stands Hubert then Essex, Pem
broke and Salisbury- then Lewis, Blanch, and
Chatillon.)

Phil. 'Tis true, fair daughter ; and this blessed day,

Ever in France shall be kept festival ;
The yearly course, that brings this day about,
Shall never see it but a holyday.
Con. (Rising.) A wicked day, and not a holy day !
What hath this day deserv'd ? What hath it done ;
That it in golden letters should be set,
Among the high tides,* in the kalendar ?
Nay, rather, turn this day out of the week ;
This day of shame, oppression, perjury ;
This day, all things begun come to ill end ;
Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change !
Phil. By heaven, lady, you shall have no cause
To curse the fair proceedings of this day ;
Have I not pawn'd to you my majesty ?
Con. You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit,
Resembling majesty ; which, being touch'd , and tried
Proves valueless ; you are foresworn, foresworn ;
You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood,
* Solemn seasons.
 1
KING JOHN. 23

But now in arms you strengthen it with yours ;

The grappling vigour and rough frown of war,
Is cold in amity and painted peace,
C
And our oppression hath made up this league ;
(King Philip seats himself, R.H.)
Arm , arm , you heavens, against these perjur'd kings !
A widow cries ; be husband to me, heavens !
Let not the hours of this ungodly day
Wear outthe day in peace ; but, ere sun- set,
Set armed discord ' twixt these perjur'd kings !
Hear me, O, hear me !
Aust. Lady Constance, peace.
Con. War! war ! no peace ! peace is to me a war:
Ó Lymoges ! O Austria ! thou dost shame
That bloody spoil. Thou slave, thou wretch, thou
coward :
Thou little valiant, great in villainy !
Thou ever strong upon the stronger side !
Thou fortune's champion, that dost never fight,
But when her humourous ladyship is by
To teach thee safety !
Thou cold-blooded slave,
Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side ?
Been sworn my soldier ? Bidding me depend
Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength ?
And dost thou now fall over to my foes ?
Thou wear a lion's hide ! doff it for shame,
And hang a calf's- skin* on those recreant limbs .
(Crosses to R.H.- Arthur follows her.)
Aust. O, that man should speak those words to
me !
Faul. And hang a calf's- skin on those recreant
limbs. (From behind King John's chair.)
Aust. Thou dar'st not say so, villain, for thy life.
Faul. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant
limbs. (Rushing down to thefront ofthe stage.)
* When fools were kept for diversion in great families, they were
distinguished by a calf's-skin coat, which had the buttons down
the back, and this they wore that they might be known for fools,
and escape the resentment of those whom they provoked with their
waggeries.
1
24 KING JOHN.
John. We like not this : thou dost forget thyself.
(Faulconbridge and Austria return to their
former situations .)

(A Trumpet sounds, L.H.)

Enter Cardinal PANDULPH, attended.

Phil. Here comes the holy legate of the pope.

Pan. Hail, you anointed deputies of heaven !
To thee king John, my holy errand is.
I Pandulph, of fair Milan cardinal,
And from Pope Innocent the legate here,
Do, in his name, religiously demand,
Why thou against the church, our holy mother,
So wilfully does spurn, and force perforce
Keep Stephen Langton, chosen archbishop
Of Canterbury, from that holy see ?
This, in our 'foresaid holy father's name,
Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee.
John. What earthly name to interrogatories
Can task the free breath of a sacred king ?
Thou canst not, cardinal devise a name
So slight, unworthy and ridiculous,
To charge meto an answer, as the pope.
Tell him this tale ; and from the mouth of England,
Add thus much more,-That no Italian priest
Shall tithe or toll in our dominions :
But as we under heaven are supreme head,
So , under him that great supremacy,
Where we do reign, we will alone uphold,
Without the assistance of a mortal hand :
So tell the pope ; all reverence set apart
To him and his usurp'd authority.
Phil. Brother of England you blaspheme in this.
John Though you, and all the kings of Christendom
Are led so grossly by this meddling priest,
Dreading the curse that money may buy out ;
And, by the merit of vile gold, dross, dust
Purchase corrupted pardon of a man,
 KING JOHN. 25
Who, in that sale, sells pardon from himself ;
Though you, and all the rest, so grossly led,
This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish ;
Yet I, alone, alone do me oppose
Against the pope, and count his friends my foes.
Pan. Then, by the lawful power that I have,
Thou shalt stand curs'd and excommunicate :
And blessed shall he be, that doth revolt
From his allegiance to an heretick ;
And meritorious shall that hand be call'd,
That takes away by any secret course
Thy hateful life.
Con. O, lawful let it be,
That I have leave with Rome to curse awhile !
Good father cardinal, cry thou, amen,
To my keen curses ; for, without my wrong,
There is no tongue hath power to curse him right.
Pan. Philip of France, on peril of a curse,
Let go the hand of that arch-heretick ;
And raise the power of France upon his head,
Unless he do submit himself to Rome.
Aust. King Philip, listen to the cardinal.
Faul. And hang a calf's - skin on his recreant limbs.
Aust. Well, ruffian, I must pocket up these wrongs,
Because
Faul. Your breeches best may carry them.
John. Philip, what say'st thou to the cardinal ?
Con. What should he say, but as the cardinal ?
Phil. Good reverend father, make my person
yours,
And tell me how you would bestow yourself.
This royal hand and mine are newly knit :
And shall these hands, so lately purg'd of blood,
Unyoke this seizure, and this kind regreet ? *
My reverend father, let it not be so :
Out of your grace, devise, ordain, impose
Some gentle order ; and then we shall be bless'd
To do your pleasure, and continue friends.
* Exchange of salutation.
26 KING JOHN .
Pan. All form is formless, order orderless,
Save what is opposite to England's love.
Therefore, to arms ! be champion of our church !
Or let the church, our mother, breathe her curse,
A mother's curse, on her revolting son ,
France, thou may'st hold a serpent by the tongue,
A fasting tiger safer by the tooth,
Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold.
Phil. I may disjoin my hand, but not my faith.
Pan. So mak'st thou faith an enemy to faith ;
O, let thy vow
First made to heaven, first be to heaven perform'd ;
That is, to be the champion of our church !
If not, then know,
The peril of our curses light on thee,
So heavy, as thou shalt not shake them off,
But, in despair, die under their black weight.
Aust. Rebellion , flat rebellion !
Faul. Will't not be ?
Will not a calf's-skin stop that mouth of thine ?
Lew. Father, to arms !
Blan. Upon thy wedding-day ?
Against the blood that thou hast married ?
What ! shall our feast be kept with slaughter'd men ?
O husband, hear me ! -Even for that name,
Which till this time my tongue did ne'er pronounce,
Upon my knee I beg, go not to arms
Against mine uncle.
Con. O, upon my knee,
Made hard with kneeling, I do pray to thee,
Thou virtuous dauphin, alter not the doom
Forethought by heaven.
Blan. Now shall I see thy love. What motive
may
Be stronger with thee than the name of wife ?
Con. That which upholdeth him, that thee upholds,
His honour : O, thine honour , Lewis, thine honour !
Lew. I muse ! your majesty doth seem so cold,
When such profound respects do pull you on.
Pan. I will denounce a curse upon his head.
 KING JOHN. 27
Phil. Thou shalt not need : (The King's rise.)
England, I'll fall from thee.
(Pandulph retires up the stage.)
Con. O fair return of banish'd majesty
John. France, thou shalt rue this hour within this
hour.
Cousin, go draw our puissance together.
[Exit Faulconbridge, L.H.
France, I am burn'd up with inflaming wrath ;
A rage, whose heat hath this condition,
That nothing can allay, nothing but blood,
The blood, and dearest- valu'd blood of France.
Phil. Look to thyself, thou art in jeopardy.
John. No more than he that threats. To arms let's
hie !
a (A Charge.)
[Exeunt, The English, L.H. French, R.H.

SCENE II.-France. A Field of Battle. Alarums.

Enter FAULCONBRIDGE, L.H.

Faul. Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous

hot;
Some airy devil hovers in the sky,
And pours down mischief. (A Charge.)

Enter AUSTRIA, R.H.

(Faulconbridge and Austria engage; Faul

conbridge drives Austria off the stage, R.H. and
presently re-enters, R.H. with the lion's skin in his
hand.)
Faul. Austria's head lie there ;
While Philip breathes . (A Charge.)

* Shakspeare here, probably alludes to the distractions and divi

sions of some of the demonologists, so much regarded in his time.
They distributed the devils into different tribes and classes ; each of
which had its peculiar qualities, attributes, &c.
C2
 28 KING JOHN.

Enter King JOHN, ARTHUR, English Gentlemen, and

HUBERT, L.H.

John. Hubert, keep this boy ; (He passes Ar

thur over to Hubert, who hurries off with him, R.H. )
Philip, make up ;
My mother is assailed in our tent,
And ta'en, I fear.
Faul. My lord, I rescu'd her ;
Her highness is in safety, fear you not :
But on, my liege ; for very little pains
Will bring this labour to an happy end. (A Charge.)
[Exeunt, &.H.

SCENE III.-France. Another Part of the Field.

(A Retreat sounded. R.H. till the King sheaths his

sword.)
Enter King JOHN, ARTHUR, ELINOR, FAULCON
BRIDGE, PEMBROKE, ESSEX, SALISBURY, HUBERT,
English Gentlemen, English Herald, and Guards, R.H.
Faulconbridge stands in front at the King's L.H.—
Arthur next the king, at his R.H. and at Arthur's R.H.
Elinor- Hubert a little retired towards L.H.- Pem
broke, Salisbury and Essex, in the centre, at thefur
ther end of the stage- English Gentlemen &c. on
each side of them.

John. So shall it be ; your grace shall stay be

hind, (To Elinor.)
So strongly guarded.- Cousin, look not sad :
(To Arthur.)
Thy grandam loves thee ; and thy uncle will
As dear be to thee as thy father was .
Arth. O, this will make my mother die with grief.
John. Cousin, away for England : haste before :
(To Faulconbridge.)
And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags
Of hoarding abbots ; imprisoned angels
 KING JOHN. 29
Set at liberty : the fat ribs of peace
Must by the hungry now be fed upon :
Use our commission in his utmost force.
Faul. Bell, book, and candle shall not drive me
back,
When gold and silver becks me to come on.
I leave your highness. - Grandam, I will pray,
If ever I remember to be holy,
For your fair safety ; so I kiss your hand.
Eli. Farewell , my gentle cousin.
John. Coz, farewell.
[ Exit Faulconbridge, L.H.
Eli. Come hither, little kinsman ; hark, a word.
(Taking Arthur aside, R.H. U.E.)
John. Come hither, Hubert.- (Hubert advances, L.H.)
O my gentle Hubert,
We owe thee much ; within this wall of flesh
There is a soul counts thee her creditor,
And with advantage means to pay thy love :
And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath
Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished.
Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say,
But I will fit it with some better time.
By heaven, Hubert, I am almost asham'd
To say what good respect I have of thee.
Hub, I am much bounden to your majesty.
John. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so
yet :
But thou shalt have : and creep time ne'er so slow,
Yet it shall come, for me to do thee good.
I had a thing to say ;-but let it go :
The sun is in the heaven ; and the proud day,
Attended with the pleasures of the world,
Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds, *
To give me audience :-if the midnight bell
Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth,
Sound one unto the drowsy race of night ;
If this same were a church-yard where we stand,
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs ;
* Showy ornaments.
c 3
30 .KING JOHN.
Or if that surly spirit, Melancholy,
Had bak'd thy blood , and made it heavy, thick ;-
Which, else, runs tickling up and down the veins,
Making that idiot, Laughter, keep men's eyes,
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment,
A passion hateful to my purposes ;
Or if that thou could'st see me without eyes,
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply
Without a tongue, using conceit alone,
Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words ;
Then, in despite of brooded watchful day,
I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts ;
But, ah ! I will not -yet, I love thee well ;
And, by my troth, I think, thou lov'st me well.
Hub. So well, that what you bid me undertake,
Though that my death were adjunct to my act,
By heaven, I'd do't.
John. Do not I know, thou would'st ?—
Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye
On yon young boy : I'll tell thee what, my friend,
He is a very serpent in my way ;
And, wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread,
He lies before me. Dost thou understand me ?
Thou art his keeper.
Hub. And I'll keep him so,
That he shall not offend your majesty.
John. Death .
Hub. My lord ?
John. A grave:
Hub. He shall not live.
John. Enough.
I could be merry now.-Hubert, I love thee ;
Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee.
Remember. (The King crosses to L.H. Hubert takes
Arthur by his left hand.) Madam fare you well ;
I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty.
Eli. My blessing go with thee !
[ Exeunt Elinor, and English Gentlemen, R.H.
John. For England , cousin ; go :
Hubert shall be your man, attend on you
* Conception.
 KING JOHN. 31

With all true duty. On, toward Calais, ho !

Hubert, remember.
(Flourish of Drums and Trumpets, L.H.)
[Exeunt King John, Hubert, and Arthur, L.H.
Lords, Gentlemen, Herald, and Guards, L.H. U.E.

SCENE IV.- France. The French Court.

Enter LEWIS, King PHILIP, and PANDULPH , R.H.

Phil. So, by a roaring tempest on the flood,

A whole armado * of convicted † sail
Is scatter'd, and disjoin'd from fellowship .
Pan. Courage and comfort ; all shall yet go well.
Phil. What can go well, when we have run so
ill ?
Are we not beaten ? It not Angiers lost ?
Arthur ta'en prisoner ?
And bloody England into England gone.
O'erbearing interruption ? spite of France ?
Look, who comes here ! a grave unto a soul ;
Holding the eternal spirit, against her will,
In the vile prison of afflicted breath :--

Enter CONSTANCE, R.H.

3
I pr'ythee, lady, go away with me .
Con. Lo, now ! now see the issue of your peace !
Phil. Patience, good lady ! Comfort, gentle Con
stance !
Con. No, I defy all counsel, all redress,
But that which ends all counsel , true redress,
Death, death :-O amiable lovely death !
Come, grin on me ; and I will think thou smil'st,
And buss thee as thy wife ! Misery's love,
O, come to me !
(Crosses between the King and Cardinal.)
* Armado , is a spanish word signifying a fleet of war.
To convict and to convince were in our authors time synony
mous. !
To defy anciently signified to refuse.
C4
32 KING JOHN.
Phil. O fair affliction, peace.
Con. No, no, I will not, having breath to cry :
O, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth !
Then with a passion would I shake the world ;
And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy,
Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice,
Which scorns a modern * invocation.
Pan. Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow.
Con. Thou art not holy to belie me so ;
I am not mad : this hair I tear, is mine ;
My name is Constance ; I was Geffrey's wife ;
*
Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost :
I am not mad ;-I would to heaven, I were !
For then, ' tis like I should forget myself :
O, if I could, what grief should I forget !
Phil. Bind up those tresses.
Con. To England, if you will.
Phil. Bind up your hairs.
Con. O, father cardinal, I have heard you say,
That we shall see and know our friends in heaven :
If that be true, I shall see my boy again ;
For, since the birth of Cain, the first male- child,
To him that did but yesterday suspire, t
There was not such a gracious ‡ creature born.
But now will canker sorrow eat my bud,
And chase the native beauty from his cheek,
And he will look as hollow as a ghost ;
As dim and meagre as an ague's fit ;
And so he'll die ; and, rising so again,
When I shall meet him in the court of heaven,
I shall not know him : therefore never, never
Must I behold my pretty Arthur more.
Pan. You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
Con. He talks to me, that never had a son.
Phil. You are as fond of grief, as of your child .
Con. Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me ;
Furni me; 3
* Trite, ordinary, common . † Breathe . Graceful.
 KING JOHN. 35
Arth. Mercy on me !
Methinks, nobody should be sad but I :
Yet, I remember, when I was in France,
Young gentlemen would be as sad as night,
Only for wantonness. By my christendom ,*
So I were out of prison, and kept sheep,
I should be as merry as the day is long ;
And so I would be here, but that I doubt
My uncle practises more harm to me :
He is afraid of me, and I of him :
Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son ?
No, indeed, is't not : And I would to heaven,
I were your son, so you would love me , Hubert.
Hub. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate
He will awake my mercy, which lies dead :
Therefore I will be sudden, and despatch .
Arth. Are you sick, Hubert ? you look pale to-day :
In sooth, I would you were a little sick ;
That I might sit all night, and watch with you :
I warrant, I love you more than you do me .
Hub. His words do take possession of my bosom.
Read here, young Arthur.- ( Gives him a warrant.)
How now, foolish rheum !
I must be brief: lest resolution drop
Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears.
Can you not read it ? Is it not fair writ ?
Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect :
Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes ?
Hub. Young boy, I must.
(Takes the warrant from him.)
Arth. And will you ?
Hub. And I will.
Arth. Have you the heart ? When your head did
but ache ,
1 knit my handkerchief about your brows,
(The best I had, a princess wrought it me,)
And I did never ask it you again :
And with my hand at midnight held your head ;

This word is used for baptism, or rather the baptismal name.

C 6
36 KING JOHN.
And, like the watchful minutes to the hour,
Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time ;
Saying, What lack you ? and, Where lies your grief?
Or, What good love may Iperform for you?
Many a poor man's son would have lain still ,
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you ;
But you at your sick service had a prince.
Nay, you may think my love was crafty love,
And call it, cunning : do, and if you will:
If heaven be pleas'd that you must use me ill,
Why, then you must.-Will you put out mine eyes ?
These eyes, that never did, nor never shall,
So much as frown on you ?
Hub. I have sworn to do it ;
And with hot irons must I burn them out.
Arth. And if an angel should have come to me,
And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes,
I would not have believ'd him ; no tongue, but Hu
bert's.
Hub. Come forth.
(Hubert stamps, and the Executioners enter,
L.H.U.E. with irons and cords ; one with
the iron and a pan.)
Do as I bid you .
Arth. O, save me, Hubert, save me ! my eyes are
out, (Executioner lays hold of Arthur.)
Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men.
Hub, Give me the iron , I say, and bind him here.
Arth. Alas, what need you be so boist'rous rough ?
I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still.
For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound !
Nay, hear me, Hubert ! drive these men away,
And I will sit as quiet as a lamb ;
I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word,
Nor look upon the iron angrily:
Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you,
Whatever torment you do put me to.
Hub. Go, stand within ; let me alone with him.
Exec. I am best pleased to be from such a deed.
[ Exeunt Executioners, L.H.U.E.
 KING JOHN. 33
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form ;
Then, have I reason to be fond of grief.
Fare you well : had you such a loss as I,
I could give better comfort than you do.
I will not keep this form upon my head,
When there is such disorder in my wit.
O Lord ! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son !
My life, my joy, my food, my all the world !
(Crosses to R.H.
My widow-comfort, and my sorrows' cure !
[ Exit R.H.
Phil. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her.
[Exit R.H.
Lew. There's nothing in this world, can make me
joy :
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man ;
And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste,
That it yields naught, but shame and bitterness.
Pan. Before the curing of a strong disease,
Even in the instant of repair and health,
The fit is strongest ; evils, that take leave,
On their departure most of all show evil :
What have you lost by losing of this day ?
Lew. All days of glory, joy, and happiness.
Pan. Ifyou had won it, certainly, you had.
John hath seiz'd Arthur ; and it cannot be,
That, whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins,
The misplac'd John should entertain an hour,
One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest :
That John may stand, then Arthur needs must fall.
Lew. But what shall I gain by young Arthur's
fall ?
Pan. You, in the right of lady Blanch your wife,
May then make all the claim that Arthur did.
Lew. May be, he will not touch young Arthur's
life,
But hold himself safe in his imprisonment.
C5
34 KING JOHN .
Pan. O, sir, when he shall hear of your approach,
If that young Arthur be not gone already,
Even at that news he dies : and then the hearts
Of all his people shall revolt from him.
Go with me to the king : ' tis wonderful,
What may be wrought out of their discontent :
Lew. Strong reasons make strong actions : let us go ;
If you say, Ay, the king will not say, No.
[Exeunt, R.H.

END OF ACT III.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.- England.- A Room in the Castle.

Enter HUBERT, with irons in his hand, and two

Executioners , L.H.

Hub. Heat me these irons hot : and, look thou stand

Within the arras : when I strike my foot
Upon the bosom of the ground , rush forth ;
And bind the boy, which you shall find with me :
Be heedful :-hence, and watch.
Exec. I hope, your warrant will bear out the deed .
Hub. Uncleanly scruples ! Fear not you :-look
to't. [Exeunt Executioners , L.H.U.E.
Young lad, come forth ; I have to say with you.

Enter ARTHUR, R.H.

Arth. Good morrow, Hubert.

Hub. Good morrow, little prince.
Arth. As little prince (having so great a title
To be more prince, ) as may be.-(Crosses to R.H.)
You are sad.
Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier.
ceart Dock 635
 KING JOHN. 39
The enfranchisement of Arthur ; whose restraint
Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent.
That the time's enemies may not have this
To grace occasions, let it be our suit,
That you have bid us ask his liberty.
John. Let it be so ; I do commit his youth
To your direction.— (Rises to meet Hubert. )

Enter HUBERT, L.H.

Hubert, what news with you ?

Pem. This is the man, should do the bloody deed.
The image of a wicked heinous fault
Lives in his eye ; that close aspect of his
Does show the mood of a much -troubled breast.
Sal. The colour of the king doth come and go,
Between his purpose and his conscience.
John. We cannot hold mortality's strong hand.
[ Exit Hubert, L.H.
Good lords, although my will to give is living,
The suit which you demand is gone and dead :
He tells us, Arthur is deceas'd to - night.
Ess. Indeed, we fear'd, his sickness was past
cure .
Pem. Indeed, we heard how near his death he
was,
Before the child himself felt he was sick :
This must be answer'd, either here, or hence.
John. Why do you bend such solemn brows on
me ?
Think you, I bear the shears of destiny?
Have I commandment on the pulse of life ?
(Crosses to R.H.)
Sal. It is apparent foul play ; and ' tis shame,
That greatness should so grossly offer it :-
So thrive it in your game ! and so , farewell .
[ Exeunt Essex, Pembroke, and Salisbury, L.H.
John They burn in indignation :-I repent ;
 40 KING JOHN.
There is no sure foundation set on blood :
-
No certain life achiev'd by others ' death.
[Exeunt King John, and English Gen
tlemen, R.H.

SCENE III.- England. A Room in the Palace.

Enter King JOHN, R.H. -Meeting the English

Herald, L.H.

John. A fearful eye thou hast ! Where is that

blood,
That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks ?
How goes all in France ?
E. Her. From France to England.—Never such a
power,
For any foreign preparation ,
Was levy'd in the body of a land !
The copy of your speed is learn'd by them ,
For, when you should be told they do prepare,
The tidings come, that they are all arriv'd.
John. O, where hath our intelligence been drunk ?
Where hath it slept ? Where is my mother's care,
That such an army could be drawn in France,
And she not hear ofit ?
E. Her. My liege, her ear
Is stopp'd with dust ; the first of April, died
Your noble mother : and, as I hear, my lord,
The lady Constance in a phrenzy died
Three days before.
John. What, mother! dead ?
How wildly then walks* my estate in France ! #
Under whose conduct came those powers of France,
That thou for truth giv'st out are landed here ?
E. Her. Under the dauphin .

The verb to walk, is used with great license by old writers, It

often means, to go ; to move.
 KING JOHN. 37
Arth. Alas ! I then have chid away my friend :
He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart :
Let him come back, that his compassion may
Give life to yours .
Hub. Come, boy, prepare yourself.
Arth. Is there no remedy?
Hub. None, but to lose your eyes.
Arth. O heaven !-that there were but a mote* in
yours,
A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wand'ring hair,
Any annoyance in that precious sense !
Then, feeling what small things are boist❜rous there,
Your vile intent must needs seem horrible.
Hub. Is this your promise ! Go to, hold your
tongue.
Arth. Let me not hold my tongue ; let me not, Hu
bert !
Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue,
So I may keep mine eyes ; O, spare mine eyes ;
Though to no use, but still to look on you !
Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold,
And would not harm me.
Hub. I can heat it, boy.
Arth. No, in good sooth ; the fire is dead with
grief;
The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out,
And strew'd repentant ashes on his head.
Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy.
Arth. And if you do, you will but make it blush,
And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert.
Hub. I will not touch thine eyes,
For all the treasure that thine uncle owes.t
(Throws away the iron, and embraces Arthur.)
Arth. O, now you look like Hubert ! all this whi
You were disguised .
Hub. Peace : no more ;
Your uncle must not know but you are dead.
I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports ;

* A mote is a small particle of straw or chaff.—† Owns.

 í
38 KING JOHN.

And, pretty child, sleep doubtless, and secure,

That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world,
Will not offend thee.
Arth. O heaven ! -I thank you, Hubert.
Hub. Silence ; no more : go closely* in with me ;
Much danger do I undergo for thee. [Exeunt, R.H.

SCENE II.- England.- The Palace.

(Flourish of Drums and Trumpets.)

King JOHN discovered upon his throne, ESSEX,

PEMBROKE, and SALISBURY, R.H. English Gen
tlemen, L.H.

- John. Here once again we sit, once again crown'd,

And look'd upon, I hope , with cheerful eyes.
Pem. This once again, but that your highness
pleas'd,
Was once superfluous : you were crown'd before,
And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd off;
The faiths of men ne'er stained with revolt :
Fresh expectation troubled not the land
With any long'd- for change, or better state.
Sal. Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp,
To guard+ a title that was rich before,
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
To throw a perfume on the violet,
Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.
John. Some reasons of this double coronation
I have possess'd you with, and think them strong :
Meantime, but ask
What you would have reform'd, that is not well ;
And well shall you perceive, how willingly
I will both hear, and grant you, your requests.
Sal. Then I, as one that am the tongue of these,
Request

Secretly, privately. To guard, is to fringe.

iApara
 KING JOHN. 41

John. Thou hast made me giddy

With these ill tidings :
(Herald retires.)

Enter FAULCOnbridge, l.h.

Now, what says the world

To your proceedings ? Do not seek to stuff
My head with more ill news ; for it is full.
Faul. But, if you be afeard to hear the worst,
(Going, L.H.)
Then let the worst, unheard, fall on your head.
John. Bear with me, cousin ; for I'am amaz'd
Under the tide ; but now I breathe again
Aloft the flood, and can give audience
To any tongue, speak it of what it will.
Faul. How I have sped among the clergymen,
The sums I have collected shall express .
But, as I travel'd hither through the land,
I find the people strangely fantasy'd,
Possess'd with rumours, full of idle dreams,
Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear.
John. O, my gentle cousin,
Hear'st thou the news abroad, who are arriv'd ?
Faul. The French, my lord ; men's mouth are full
of it :
Besides, I met lord Essex and lord Salisbury,
With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire,
And others more, going to seek the grave
Of Arthur, who, they say, is kill'd to- night
On your suggestion .
John. Gentle kinsman , go,
And thrust thyself into their companies :
I have a way to win their loves again.
Bring them before me.
Faul. I will seek them out.
John. Nay, but make haste ; the better foot be
fore.
O, let me have no subjects enemies,
42 KING JOHN.
When adverse foreigners affright my towns
With dreadful pomp of stout invasion !
Be mercury, set feathers to thy heels,
And fly, like thought, from them to me again.
Faul. The spirit of the time shall teach me speed.
[ Exit, L.H.
John. Go after him ; for he, perhaps, shall need
Some messenger betwixt me and the peers ;
And be thou he.
[ Exit the English Herald, L.H.
1
John. My mother dead !---

Enter HUBERT, L.H.

Hub. My lord, they say, five moons were seen to

night ;
Four fixed ; and the fifth did whirl about
The other four, in wondrous motion.
John. Five moons ?
Hub. Old men, and beldams, in the streets
Do prophesy upon it dangerously :
Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths :
And when they talk of him , they shake their heads,
And whisper one another in the ear ;
And he that speaks , doth gripe the hearer's wrist ;
Whilst he that hears, makes fearful action,
With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes.
I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus,
The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool,
With open mouth swallowing a taylor's news ;
Who, with his shears and measure in his hand,
Told of a many thousand warlike French,
That were embattled and rank'd in Kent :
Another lean unwash'd artificer
Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death.
John. Why seek'st thou to possess me with these
fears ?
Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death ?
Thy hand hath murder'd him : I had a mighty cause
To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him.
 KING JOHN . 43
Hub. Had none, my lord ! why, did you not provoke
me ?
John. It is the curse of kings, to be attended
By slaves, that take their humours for a warrant
To break within the bloody house of life ;
And, on the winking of authority,
To understand a law ; to know the meaning
Of dangerous majesty, when, perchance, it frowns
(Crosses to L.H.)
More upon humour, than advis'd respect. *
Hub. Here is your hand and seal for what I did.
John. O, when the last account ' twixt heaven and
earth
Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal
Witness against us to damnation !
How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds
Makes deeds ill done ! Hadst not thou been by,
A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd,
Quoted, † and sign'd, to do a deed of shame,
This murder had not come into my mind :
But, taking note of thy abhorred aspect,
Finding thee fit for bloody villainy,
I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death ;
And thou, to be endeared to a king,
Mad'st it no conscience to destroy a prince .
Hub. My lord,
John. Hadst thou but shook thy head, or made a
pause,
When I spake darkly what I purposed :
Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face,
And bid me tell my tale in express words ;
Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break off,
And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me :
But thou didst understand me by my signs,
And didst in signs again parley with sin ;
Yea, without stop , didst let thy heart consent,
And, consequently, thy rude hand to act
The deed, which both our tongues held vile to name
* Deliberate consideration, reflection.- Observed, distin
guished.
44 KING JOHN.
Out of my sight, and never see me more !
(Crosses to R.H.)
My nobles leave me ; and my state is brav'd,
Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign powers :
Nay, in the body of this fleshly land,*
This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath,
Hostility and civil tumult reigns
Between my conscience, and my cousin's death.
Hub. Arm you against your other enemies,
I'll make a peace between your soul and you.
This hand of mine
Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand,
Not painted with the crimson spots of blood.
Within this bosom never enter'd yet
The dreadful motion of a murd'rous thought,t
And you have slander'd nature in my form ;
Which, howsoever rude exteriorly,
Is yet the cover of a fairer mind
Than to be butcher of an innocent child.
Young Arthur is alive.
John. Doth Arthur live ? O, haste thee to the
peers,
Throw this report on their incensed rage,
And make them tame to their obedience !
Forgive the comment that my passion made
Upon thy feature ; for my rage was blind,
And foul imaginary eyes of blood
Presented thee more hideous than thou art. ----
O, answer not, but to my closet bring
The angry lords with all expedient‡ haste.
[Exeunt, King John, R.H. and Hubert, L.H.

His own body.

Nothing can be falser than what Hubert here says in his own
vindication ; for we find from a precedi scene, the motion ofa
murd'rous thought had entered into him, and that very deeply ; and
it was with difficulty that the tears, the intreaties, and the inno
cence of Arthur had diverted and suppressed it.
+ Expeditious.
 KING JOHN. 45

SCENE III.- England.- The Gates of a Castle.

Enter ARTHUR on the walls of the Castle, L.H.U.E.

Arth. The wall is high and yet will I leap

down :*
Good ground, be pitiful, and hurt me not !
I am afraid ; and yet I'll venture it.
If I get down, and do not break my limbs,
I'll find a thousand shifts to get away :
As good to die, and go, as die, and stay.
(Leaps down.)
O me ! my uncle's spirit is in these stones :--
Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones !
(Dies. )

Enter SALISBURY with letters, PEMBROKE, and

ESSEX, R.H.

Sal. Lords, I will meet him at St. Edmund's-bury ;

It is our safety, and we must embrace
This gentle offer of the perilous time.
Pem. Who brought that letter from the cardinal ?
Sal. Count Chatillon, a noble lord of France ;
Whose private with me,† of the dauphin's love,
Is much more general than these lines import.
Ess. To-morrow morning let us meet him then.

* In what manner Arthur was deprived of his life is not ascer

tained. The French historians, say, that John coming in a boat
during the night -time, to the Castle of Rouen, where the young
Prince was confined, ordered him to be brought forth, and having
stabbed him while supplicating for mercy, the King fastened a
stone to the dead body, and threw it into the Seine, in order to
give some colour to a report, which he afterwards caused to be
spread, that the Prince attempting to escape out of a window of
the tower of the castle, fell into the river and was drowned .
+ Whose private account of the Dauphin's affection to our
cause, is much more ample than the letters.
46. KING JOHN .

Enter FAULCONBRIDGE, L.H..

Faul. Once more to -day well met, distemper'd *.

lords !
The king, by me, requests your presence straight.
Sal. The king hath dispossess'd himself of us ;
We'll not attend the foot
That leaves the print of blood where'er it walks :
Return, and tell him so ; we know the worst.
Faul. Whate'er you think, good words, I think,
were best.
Ess. Our griefs, and not our manners, reason
now .
Faul. But there is little reason in your grief;
Therefore, ' twere reason, you had manners now.
Pem. Sir, sir, impatience hath his privilege.
Faul. 'Tis true ; to hurt his master, no man else.
Sal. This is the prison ;-what is he lies here ?
(Seeing Arthur.)
Pem. O death , made proud with pure and princely
beauty !
The earth had not a hole to hide this deed .
Sal. Murder, as hating what himself hath done,
Doth lay it open, to urge on revenge.
Ess. Or, when he doom'd this beauty to a grave,
Found it too precious-princely for a grave.
Sal. Sir Richard, what think you ? Have you be
held,
Or have you read, or heard, or could you think , -
Or do you almost think, although you see,
That you do see ?-This is the bloodiest shame,
The wildest savagery, the vilest stroke,
That ever wall-ey'd wrath, or staring rage,
Presented to the tears of soft remorse.
Faul. It is a damned and a bloody work ;
The graceless action of a heavy hand,
If that it be the work of any hand,

* Ruffled, out of humour.

 KING JOHN. 47
Sal. If that it be the work of any hand ?
We had a kind of light, what would ensue :
It is the shameful work of Hubert's hand ;
The practice, and the purpose, of the king :—
From whose obedience I forbid my soul,
Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life,
And breathing to this breathless excellence
The incense of a vow, a holy vow ;
Never to taste the pleasures of the world,
Never to be infected with delight,
Nor conversant with ease and idleness,
Till I have set a glory to this head,
Bygiving it the worship of revenge.
Pem. Our souls religiously confirm thy words.

Enter HUBERT, L.H.

Hub. Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you :

Arthur doth live ; the king hath sent for you.
Sal. Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone !
Hub. I am no villain.
Sal. Must I rob the law ? (Draws his sword.)
Faul. Your sword is bright, sir : put it up again.
Sal. Not till I sheathe it in a murderer's skin.
Hub. (Draws.) Stand back, lord Salisbury, stand
back , I say;
By heaven, I think, my sword's as sharp as yours :
I would not have you, lord, forget yourself,
Nor tempt the danger of my true * defence :
Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget
Your worth, your greatness, and nobility.
Sal. Out, dunghill ! dar'st thou brave a noble
man ?
Hub. Not for my life : but yet I dare defend
My innocent life against an emperor.
Sal. Thou art a murderer.
Hub. Do not prove me so ;†

* Honest. By compelling me to kill thee.

48 KING JOHN.
Yet, I am none - whose tongue soe'er speaks false,
Not truely speaks ; who speaks not truely, lies.
Pem. Cut him to pieces .
(Pembroke and Essex draw.)
Faul. Keep the peace, I say.
(Draws, and interposes.)
Sal. Stand by, or I shall gall you, Faulconbridge.
Faul. Thou wert better gall the devil, Salisbury :—
If thou but frown on me, or stir thy foot,
Or teach thy hasty spleen to do me shame,
I'll strike thee dead. Put up thy sword betime ;
Or I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron,
That you shall think the devil is come from hell .
Sal, What wilt thou do, renowned Faulconbridge ?
Second a villain, and a murderer ?
Hub. Lord Salisbury, I am none.
Sal. Who kill'd this prince ?
Hub. 'Tis not an hour since I left him well :
I honour'd him, I lov'd him ; and will weep
My date of life out, for his sweet lite's loss .
(Goes to the body.)
Sal. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes,
For villainy is not without such rheum ;
Away, with me, all you whose souls abhor
(Crosses to R.H.)
The uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house ;
For I am stifled with this smell of sin.
[ Exit, R.H.
Essex. Away, toward Bury, to the dauphin there !
[Exit R.H.
Pem. There, tell the king, he may inquire us out.
[Exit, R.H.
Faul. Here's a good world !-Knew you of this fair
work ?
Beyond the infinite and boundless reach
Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death,
Art thou damn'd , Hubert.
Hub. Do but hear me, sir.
Upon my soul,
Faul. If thou didst but consent
 KING JOHN. 49
To this most cruel act, do but despair,
And, if thou want'st a cord, the sinallest thread
That ever spider twisted from her womb
Will serve to strangle thee ; a rush will be
A beain to hang thee on ; or would'st thou drown thy
self,
Put but a little water in a spoon,
And it shall be as all the ocean,
Enough to stifle such a villain up.
I do suspect thee very grievously.
Hub. If I in act, consent, or sin of thought,
Be guilty ofthe stealing that sweet breath
Which was embounded in this beauteous clay,
Let hell want pains enough to torture me !
I left him well.
Faul. Go, bear him in thine arms.
I am amaz'd,* methinks ; and lose my way
Among the thorns and dangers of this world.
Now powers from home, and discontents at home,
Meet in one line : and vast confusion waits,
As doth a raven on a sick-fallen beast,
The imminent decay of wrested pomp. †
Now happy he, whose cloak and cincture can
Hold out this tempest. - Bear away that child,
And follow me with speed : I'll to the king:
A thousand businesses are brief in hand,
And heaven itself doth frown upon the land.

[Exeunt, L.H. Hubert bearing Arthur in

his arms .

* Confounded.
Greatness obtained by violence.
+ Girdle .

END OF ACT IV.

50 KING JOHN .

ACT V.

SCENE I.- England.- The Palace.

(Flourish of Drums and Trumpets, L.H.)

King JOHN, PANDULPH, his Attendants, English Gen

tlemen, and Herald, discovered.-The Cardinal
seated, having in his hand a cushion on which the
Crown is placed ; -King John kneeling before
him.

John. Thus have I yielded up into your hand

The circle ofmy glory.
Pan. Take it again,
(Gives King John the Crown. )
From this my hand, as holding of the pope,
Your sovereign greatness.
(He gives the Crown and Cushion to the King,
who rising delivers them to the Herald,
who places them on the table ;-the Cardi
nal leaves the chair.)
John. Now keep your holy word ; go meet the
French ;
And from his holiness use all your power
To stop their marches.
Pan. It was my breath that blew this tempest up,
Upon your stubborn usage of the pope ;
But, since you are a gentle convertite,*
My tongue shall hush again this storm of war,
And make fair weather in your blustering land .
[Exit Pandulph, with his Attendants, R.H.

Enter FAULCONBRIDGE, L.H.

Faul. All Kent hath yielded ; nothing there holds

out,
* Convert.
 KING JOHN . 51
But Dover Castle : London hath receiv'd,
Like a kind host, the dauphin and his powers :
Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone
To offer service to your enemy ;
And wild amazement hurries up and down
The little number of your doubtful friends .
John. Would not my lords return to me again,
After they heard young Arthur was alive ?
Faul. They found him dead, and cast into the
streets,
An empty casket, where the jewel of life
By some damn'd hand was robb'd and ta'en away.
John. That villain Hubert told me, he did live.
Faul. So, on my soul, he did, for aught he knew.
But wherefore do you droop ? Why look you sad ?
Be great in act, as you have been in thought ;
Let not the world see fear, and sad distrust,
Govern the motion of a kingly eye :
Be stirring as the time ; be fire with fire ;
Threaten the threat'ner, and out- face the brow
Of bragging horror ; so shall inferior eyes,
That borrow their behaviours from the great,
Grow great by your example, and put on
1 The dauntless spirit of resolution.
Away ; and glister like the god of war,
When he intendeth to become the field ;
Show boldness, and aspiring confidence.
What, shall they seek the lion in his den?
And fright him there ? And make him tremble there ?
O, let it not be said ! -Forage, and run
To meet displeasure further from the doors ;
And grapple with him, e'er he come so nigh.
John, The legate of the pope hath been with mẹ,
And I have made a happy peace with him ;
And he hath promis'd to dismiss the powers
Led by the dauphin.
Faul. O, inglorious league !
Shall we, upon the footing of our land,
Send fair-play orders, and make compromise,
Insinuation, parley, and base truce,
D 2
 52 KING JOHN.
To arms invasive ? Shall a beardless boy,
A cocker'd silken wanton brave our fields,
And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil,
Mocking the air with colours idly spread,
And find no check ? Let us, my liege, to arms ;
Sweep off these base invaders from the land :
And above all, exterminate those slaves,
Those British slaves, whose prostituted souls,
Under French Banners, move in vile rebellion,
Against their king, their country, and their God.
John. Have thou the ordering of this present time.
Faul. Away then, with good courage ; yet, I know
Our party may well meet a prouder foe. [Exeunt, R.H.

SCENE II, -England.- The Dauphin's Camp at

St. Edmund's-Bury.

Enter LEWIS, CHATILLON, L.H. (a parchment in his

hand. ) PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, ESSEX, French
Herald, and Guards, R.H.

Lew. Let this be copied out, Chatillon,

And keep it safe for our remembrance :
Return the precedent to these lords again ;
That, having our fair order written down,
Both they, and we, perusing o'er these notes,
May know wherefore we took the sacrament,
And keep our faiths firm and inviolable.
Sal. Upon our sides it never shall be broken.
Lew. Look, where the holy legate comes apace,
To gives us warrant from the hand of heaven ;
And on our actions set the name of right,
With holy breath.

Enter Cardinal PANDULPH, attended, L.H.

Pan. Hail, noble prince of France !

. The next is this,-King John hath reconcil'd
* Fondled.
 KING JOHN. 53
Himself to Rome ; his spirit is come in,
That so stood out against the holy church,
The great metropolis and see of Rome.
Therefore thy threat'ning colours now wind up,
And tame the savage spirit of wild war ;
That, like a lion foster'd up at hand,
It may lie gently at the foot of peace ,
And be no further harmful than in show.
Lew. Your grace shall pardon me, I will not back ;
I am too high-born to be property'd :*
Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars,
And brought in matter that should feed this fire ;
And now ' tis far too huge to be blown out
With that same weak wind which enkindled it.
You taught me how to know the face of right,
Acquainted me with interest to this land,
Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart :
And come you now to tell me, John hath made
His peace with Rome ? What is that peace to me ?
I, by the honour of my marriage- bed,
After young Arthur, claim this land for mine ;
And, now it is half- conquer'd, must I back,
Because that John hath made his peace with Rome ?
Am I Rome's slave ?
No, on my soul, it never shall be said.
(Trumpet sounds.)
What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us ?

Enter FAULCONBRIDGE, and English Gentlemen, L.H.

Faul. According to the fair -play of the world,

Let me have audience ; I am sent to speak : -.
My holy lord of Milan, from the king
I come, to learn how you have dealt for him ;
And, as you answer, I do know the scope
And warrant limited unto my tongue.
Pan. The dauphin is too wilful -opposite,
And will not temporize with my entreaties ;

* Appropriated,
54 KING JOHN.
He flatly says, he'll not lay down his arms.
Faul. By all the blood that ever fury breath'd,
The youth says well .-Now hear our English king ;
For thus his royalty doth speak in me ;
He is prepar'd, and reason too, he should,
To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms,
From out the circle of his territories.
Shall that victorious hand be feebled here,
That in your chambers gave you chastisement ?
No : know, the gallant monarch is in arms ;
And like an eagle o'er his aiery towers,
To souse annoyance that comes near his nest.
And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts,
You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb
Of your dear mother England, blush for shame !
Lew. We grant, thou canst out-scold us : fare thee
well ;
We hold our time too precious to be spent
With such a brabbler.
Pan. Give me leave to speak.
Faul. No, I will speak.
Lew. We will attend to neither ; -
Strike up the drums ; and let the tongue ofwar
Plead for our interest, and our being here.
Faul. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry
out :
And so shall you, being beaten . Do but start
An echo with the clamour of thy drum ,
And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd,
That shall reverberate as loud as thine :
Sound but another, and another shall,
As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's* ear,
And mock the deep -mouth'd thunder :-for at hand,
Not trusting to this halting legate here,
Whom he hath us'd rather for sport than need,
1
Is warlike John ; and in his forehead sits
A bare-ribb'd death, whose office is this day
To feast upon whole thousands of the French .

* Sky.
 KING JOHN. 55'

Lew. Strike up our drums to find this danger out.

Faul. And thou shalt find it, dauphin, do not
doubt. (Flourish of Drums and Trumpets.)
[Exeunt, Faulconbridge, Pandulph, and at
tendants, L.H.- Lewis, Chatillon, Lords,
&c. R.H.

SCENE III.- England.- A Field of Battle.

(Drums, Trumpets, Shouts, &c.)

Enter HUBERT, King JOHN, English Gentlemen, •
and Guards, R.H.

John. How goes the day with us ? O, tell me, Hu

bert.
Hub. Badly, I fear. How fares your majesty ?
John. This fever, that hath troubled me so long,
Lies heavy on me. -O, my heart is sick !

Enter English HERALD , R.H.

E. Her. My lord, your valiant kinsman , Faulcon

bridge,
Desires your majesty to leave the field ;
And send him word by me, which way you go.
John. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the abbey
there.
E. Her. Be ofgood comfort ; for the great supply,
That was expected by the dauphin here,
Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin sands.
This news was brought to Richard but even now ;
The French fight coldly, and retire themselves.
[Exit English Herald, R.H.
John. Ah me ! this tyrant fever burns me up,
And will not let me welcome this good news.--
Set on toward Swinstead : to my litter straight ;
Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint.
(Drums, Trumpets, &c. R.H.)
[Exeunt, L.H.
* Are wreck'd.- Supply is here, and in a subsequent passage in
Scene V. used as a noun of multitude.
D 4
56 KING JOHN.

SCENE IV.- England.- The French Camp.

(Alarums.)

Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE, and ESSEX, R.H.

Ess. I did not think the king 30 stored with

friends .
Pem. Up once again ; put spirit in the French ;
If they miscarry, we miscarry too,
Sal. That mis -begotten devil, Faulconbridge, 1
In spite of spite, alone upholds the day.
Pem. They say, king John, sore sick, hath left the
field.

Enter CHATILLON wounded, and led by two French

Gentlemen, L.H.

Cha. Lead me to the revolts of England here.

Sal. When we were happy, we had other names.
Pem. It is Chatillon.
Sal. Wounded to death.
Cha. Fly, noble English ; you are bought and
sold ; *
Unthread the rude eye of rebellion ,
And welcome home again discarded faith .
Seek out king John, and fall before his feet ;
For, if the French be lords of this loud day,
Het means to recompense the pains you take,
By cutting off your heads.
Sal. May this be possible ? May this be true?
Cha. Have I not hideous death within my view ?
What in the world should make me now deceive,
Since I must lose the use of all deceit ?
I say again, if Lewis do win the day,
He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of yours

* A proverb intimating treachery.- Lewis,

 KING JOHN . 57
Behold another day break in the east :
But even this night,
Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire.
Commend me to one Hubert, with your king :
The love of him,—and this respect besides,
For that my grandsire was an Englishman,
Awakes my conscience to confess all this.
In lieu whereof, I pray you , bear me hence
From forth the noise and rumour of the field :
Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts.
In peace, and part this body and my soul
With contemplation and devout desires.
Sal. We do believe thee, -And beshrew my soul,
But I do love the favour and the form
Of this most fair occasion, by the which
We will untread the steps of damned flight ;
And, like a bated and retired flood,
Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd,
And calmly run on in obedience,
Even to our ocean, to our great king John.—
My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence ;
For I do see the cruel pangs of death
Right * in thine eye.-Away, my friends !
(Drums Trumpets, &c.)
[Exeunt, leading off Chatillon, L.H.

SCENE V.- England.- A different Part of the

French Camp.

(A Retreat sounded.)

Enter LEWIS, French Gentlemen, and Guards, R.H.

Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was loth to

set ;
But stay'd, and made the western welkin blush ,
When the English measur'd backward their own ground,
In faint retire : O, bravely came we off,

* Right signifies immediate. It is now obsolete.

D 5
58 KING JOHN .
When with a volley of our needless shot,
After such bloody toil, we bade good night :
And wound our tatter'd colours clearly up,
Last in the field, and almost lords of it !

Enter French HERALD, R.H.

F. Her. Where is my prince, the dauphin ?

Lew. Here.-What news ?
F. Her. Chatillon is slain : the English lords,
By his persuasion, are again fallen off :
And your supply which you have wish'd so long,
Are cast away, and sunk, on Goodwin sands .
Lew. Ah, foul shrewd news -Beshrew thy very
heart !
I did not think to be so sad to- night,
As this hath made me. -Who was he, that said, 1
King John did fly, an hour or two before
The stumbling night did part our weary powers ?
F. Her. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.
Lew. Well ; keep good quarter, * and good care to
night :
The day shall not be up so soon as I,
To try the fair adventure of to- morrow.
(Drums, Trumpets, &c.)
[Exeunt, L.H.

SCENE VI.- England.- The Entrance to Swinstead

Abbey.

Enter FAULCONBRIDGE, L.H. meeting HUBERT, R.H.

Hub. Who's there ? Speak, ho ! speak quickly.

Faul. A friend.- What art thou ?
Hub. Ofthe part of England.
Faul. Hubert, I think. - What news abroad ?
Hub. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night,
Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.

* In our posts or stations.

 KING JOHN. 59
Faul. Show me the very wound of this ill news ;
I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it.
Hub. The king, I fear, is poison'd by a monk :
I left him almost speechless, and broke out
To acquaint you with this evil.
Faul. How did he take it ; who did taste to him ?
Hub. A monk, I tell you ; a resolved villain,
Whose bowels suddenly burst out : the king
Yet speaks, and, peradventure, may recover.
Faul. Whom didst thou leave to tend his majesty ?
Hub. Why, know you not ? The lords are all come
back,
And brought prince Henry in their company :
At whose request the king hath pardon'd them,
And they are all about his majesty.
Faul. Withhold thine indignation , mighty heaven,
And tempt us not to bear above our power !
I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power* this night,
Passing these flats, are taken by the tide,
These Lincoln washes have devoured them ;
Myself, well mounted, hardly have escap'd.
Away, before ! conduct me to the king ;
I doubt he will be dead, or ere I come. [Exeunt, R.H.

SCENE VII .- England.— The Orchard of Swin

stead Abbey.

Enter English Guards, with torches, Prince HENRY,

and ESSEX, L.H. S.E.

P. Hen. It is too late : the life of all his blood

Is touch'd corruptibly ; and his pure brain
Doth, by the idle comments that it makes,
Foretell the ending of mortality.

Enter SALISBURY, and English Gentlemen, with a

couch, L.H.

Sal. His highness yet doth speak : and holds belief,

* Forces.
60 KING JOHN.
That, being brought into the open air,
It would allay the burning quality
Of that fell poison which assaileth him :
P. Hen. Doth he still rage ?
Sal. He is more patient
Than when you left him : even now he sung.

Enter King JOHN, attended by PEMBROKE , and

English Gentlemen, L.H. S.E.

John. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow- room ;

It would not out at windows, not at doors.
There is so hot a summer in my bosom,
That all my bowels crumble up to dust :
I am a scribbled form, drawn out with a pen
Upon a parchment : and against this fire
Do I shrink up.
1 P. Hen. (L.H.) How fares your majesty ?
John. Poison'd, -ill fare ; -dead, forsook, cast off:
And none of you will bid the winter come,
To thrust his icy fingers in my maw ;
Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course
Through my burn'd bosom ; nor entreat the north
To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips,
And comfort me with cold.
P. Hen. O, that there were some virtue in my tears
That might relieve you !
John. The salt in them is hot.
Within me is a hell : and there the poison
Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize
On unreprievable condemned blood.

Enter FAULCON BRIDGE and HUBERT, R.H,

(Faulconbridge runs to the front of the couch and

kneels - Hubert goes behind the couch. )
Faul. O, I am scalded with my violent motion,
And spleen of speed to see your maesty .
 KING JOHN. 61
John. O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye :
The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd ;
And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should sail,
Are turned to one thread, one little hair :
My heart hath one poor string to stay it by,
Which holds but till thy news be uttered ;
And then all this thou seest, is but a clod,
And module of confounded royalty.
Faul. The dauphin is preparing hitherward ;
Where, heaven he knows, how we shall answer him :
For, in a night, the best part of my power,
As I upon advantage did remove,
Were in the washes, all unwarily,
Devoured by the unexpected flood .
(The King dies, Prince Henry falls on his body .)
Pem. You breathe these dead news in as dead an
ear.
My liege my lord ! -But now a king, -now thus !
Faul. Art thou gone so ? I do but stay behind ,
To do the office for thee of revenge ;
And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven,
As it on earth hath been thy servant still .
Ess. At Worcester must his body be interr'd ;
For so he will'd it.
Faul. Thither shall it then.
And happily may you, sweet prince put on
(P. Henry rises, and Hubert quitting the couch comes
down between Faulconbridge and Essex.)
The lineal state and glory of the land !
To whom with all submission, on my knee,
I do bequeath my faithful services
And true subjection everlastingly.
Sal. And the like tender of our love we make,
To rest without a spot for evermore . (All kneei .)
P. Hen. I have a kind soul, that would give you
thanks,
And knows not how to do it, but with tears .
(Prince Henry throws himselfon his knees by his
father's body.)

* Model.
62 KING JOHN.
Faul. O, let us pay the time but needful woe,
Since it hath been beforehand with your griefs.
This England never did, nor never shall,
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror,
But when it first did help to wound itself.
Now these her princes are come home again,
Come the three corners of the world in arms,
And we shall shock them : nought shall make us rue,
If England to itself do rest but true.

DS
AR
GU
Disposition ofthe Characters when the Curtain falls.
S

N
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H

H
AR
RC

JO

P.
K.
BE
TO

&

,
c

.
,
.
,

L
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B
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PEM
ES
.

Finis .

R.H. CURTAIN. L.H.

From the Press of W. Oxberry & Cu.

8, White-bart Yard.
 6.

Orberry's Edition.

ROMEO AND JULIET,

A TRAGEDY;

By W. Shakspeare,

ADAPTED TO THE STAGE BY DAVID GARRICK.

WITH PREFATORY REMARKS.

THE ONLY EDITION EXISTING WHICH IS FAITHFULLY MARKED

WITH THE STAGE BUSINESS, AND STAGE DIRECTIONS,

AS IT IS PERFORMED AT THE

Theatres Koyal.

BY W. OXBERRY, Comedian.

LONDON.

PUBLISHED FOR THE PROPRIETORS, BY W. SIMPKIN AND

R. MARSHALL, STATIONERS ' COURT, LUDGATE - STREET ; AND
C. CHAPPLE, 66, PALL-MALL.

1819
From the Press of W. Oxberry & Co.
8, White-hart Yard.
 Costume.

PRINCE.
Green vest, trunks and cloak, embroider'd.
PARIS.
White dress do, do. Second Dress.- do, do.
MONTAGUE.
Blue do. do.
CAPULET.
Brown do. do.
ROMEO.
White dress do. Second Dress.-Black do. do. do.
MERCUTIO.
Scarlet dress do:
BENVOLIO.
Fawn dress do.
TYBALT .
Black dress lined with buff and yellow.
APOTHECARY.
Coarse serge.
BALTHAZAR .
Grey and scarlet livery.
PETER.
Brown do. do.
CHORUS.
White surplices
FRIAR.
Grey Friar's dress.
JULIET .
First Dress.- White trimmed with silver, and spangled muslin
drapery.-Second dress-White muslin and drapery.
LADY CAPULET.
First Dress. Black velvet, trimmed with gold and lace drapery.
Second Dress,-Black velvet and black veil.
NURSE .
Black calico gown, trimmed with point lace, brocade, silk petticoat
 Persons Represented .

Drury Lane. 1819. Covent Garden. 1819.

Prince Escalus.. Mr. Ley. Mr. Claremont.
Montague .... Mr. Marshall. Mr. B. Thornton.
Capulet .... Mr. Powell. Mr. Egerton .
Paris .... Mr. Hamblin. Mr. T. Matthews.
Romeo... Mr. H. Kemble. Mr. C. Kemble.
Mercutio. Mr. Penley. Mr. Jones.
Benvolio Mr. Holland. Mr. Jefferies.
Tybalt....... Mr. Bengough. Mr. Connor.
Friar Laurence Mr. Carr. Mr. Chapman .
Friar John.. Mr. Buxton. Mr. Crumpton .
Apothecary. Mr. Coveney. Mr. Treby.
Page. Miss C. Carr. MasterC. Parsloe .
Peter .... Mr. Knight. Mr. Simmons .
My
Lady Capulet. Mrs. Brereton. Miss Logan.
Juliet Mrs. W. West. Miss O'Neill.
Nurse.. Mrs. Sparks. Mrs. Davenport.

Time of Representation.

The time this piece takes in representation is two hours and

fifty-eight minutes. The first act occupies the space of thirty
five minutes.--The second, forty-five- the third, forty- six
the fourth, twenty- and the fifth, thirty-two. The half price
commences, generally, at a quarter after nine.

Stage Directions .

By R.H..... is meant.. Right Hand .

L.H ..... .. Left Hand.
S.E. .... .. Second Entrance.
U.P...... ·· Upper Entrance .
M.D ....... .... Middle Door.
D.F........... Door in Flat.
R.H.D....…………… • .... .. .... .. Right Hand Door.
L.H.D.. .. .. Left Hand Door.
 ROMEO AND JULIET.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-A Street.

Enter GREGORY and SAMSON, L.H.

Sam. Gregory, I strike quickly, being mov❜d.

Gre. But thou art not quickly mov'd to strike..
Sam. A dog of the house of Montague moves me.
Gre. Draw thy tool then ; for here comes two of
the house of the Montagues .
+
Sam. My naked weapon is out : quarrel ; I will
back thee : but let us take the law of our sides : let
them begin .
Gre. I will frown, as I pass by ; and let them take
it as they list.
Sam. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at
them ; which is a disgrace to them , if they bear it.

Enter ABRAM and BALTHASAR, R.H.

Bal. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir ?

Sam. I do bite my thumb, sir.
Bal. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir ?
Sam. Is the law on our side, if I say ay ? ( To Gre.)
Gre. No. (To Sam.)
Sam. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir:
but I bite my thumb, sir.
Gre. Do you quarrel, sir ?
B
2 ROMEO AND
Bal. Quarrel, sir ? no, sir.
* Sam. If you do, sir, I am for you ; I serve as good
a man as you .
Bal. No better, sir.
Sam. Well, sir.
Gre. Say- better ; here comes one of my master's
kinsmen .
Sam. Yes, better, sir.
Bal. You lie.
Sam. Draw, if you be men,-Gregory, remember
thy swashing blow. (They fight. )

Enter BENVOLIO , R.H.

Ben. Part, fools ; put up your swords ; you know

not what you do.- (Beats down their weapons.)

Enter TYBALT, L.H. with his sword drawn.

Tyb. What, art thou drawn among these heartless

hinds ?
Turn thee, Benvolio ; look upon thy death .
Ben. I do but keep the peace ; put up thy sword ;
Or manage it, to part these men, with me.
Tyb. What, drawn, and talk of peace ? I hate the
word
As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee :
Have at thee, coward. S
(They fight. )
(Capulets, L.H. and Montagues, R.H. without.)
Montagues.- Down with the Capulets !
Capulets.-Down with the Montagues !
(Bell rings.)
Cap. (Without. L.H.) Give me my sword ! Old Mon
tague is come, and flourishes his blade in spite of me.

Enter MONTAGUE and his Friends, R.H. and CAPU

LET with his Friends, all armed, L.H.

Mon. Thou villain , Capulet,— (They all fight.)

 JULIET. 3

Enter the PRINCE and his Attendants, L.H.

Prince. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,

Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel ,
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 broils, bred of an airy word,
By you, old Capulet , and Montague,
Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our town :
If ever you affright 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.
Once more, on pain of death all men depart. (Flourish .)
[ Exeunt all but Montague and Benvolio, L.H.
Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach ?
Speak, nephew, were you by, when it began ?
Ben. Here were the servants of our adversary,
And your's, close fighting, ere I did approach :
I drew to part them ; in the instant came
The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar'd ;
Which as he breath'd defiance to my ears,
He swung about his head, and cut the winds :
While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,
Came more and more, and fought on part and part,
"Till the Prince came .
Mon. O, where is Romeo ? Saw you him to-day ?--
Right glad I am, he was not at this brawl.
Ben. My lord, 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,
* Mistemper'd.—Angry weapons .
B2
4 ROMEO AND
And stole into the covert of the wood :
-
I, measuring his , affections by my own,
That most are busied when they're most alone, —
Pursu'd my humour, not pursuing his,
And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.
Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen,
With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew ;
Black and portentous must this humour prove,
Unless the counsel may the cause remove.
Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause ?
Mon. I neither know it, nor can learn it of him.
Ben. Have you importun'd him by any means ?
Mon. 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.
Ben. So please you, sir, Mercutio and myself
Are most near to him ;-be it that our years,
Births, fortunes, studies, inclinations,
Measure the rule of his, I know not ; but
Friendship still loves to sort him with his like ;
We will attempt upon his privacy :
And could we learn from whence his sorrows grow,
We would as willingly give cure, as knowledge.
Mon. "Twill bind us to you : good Benvolio , go.
Ben.We'll know his grievance, or be much denied.
[Exeunt, Mon. L.H., Ben, R,H.

SCENE II.Another Street.

Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and SERVANT, L.H.

Cap. And 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.
Par. Of honourable reck'ning are you both ;
 JULIET. 5
And pity ' tis, you liv'd at odds so long.
But now, my lord, what say you to my suit ?
Cap. 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 eighteen years ;
Let two more summers wither in their pride,
Ere we may think her ripe to be a wife.
Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made.
Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early made .
The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but her :
But woo her, gentle Paris ; get her heart ;
An she agree, within her scope of choice
Lies my consent ; so woo her, gentle Paris.
This night I hold an old accustom'd feast,
Whereto I have invited many a friend ,
Such as I love ; and you, among the rest. -
Go, sirrah, trudge about (Gives Serv . a Paper .)
Through fair Verona ; find those persons out,
Whose names are written there, and to them say,
My house and welcome on their pleasures stay.
Once more, most welcome, Count : go in with me.
[ Exeunt, R.H.
SCENE III -A Wood near Verona.

Romeo passes through the Wood, from L.H. to R.H.

Enter MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO , L.H.

Mer. See, where he steals.-Told I you not, Ben

volio,
That we should find this melancholy Cupid
Lock'd in some gloomy covert, under key
Of cautionary silence, with his arms
Threaded, like these cross boughs, in sorrow's knot ?
1
Re- enter ROMEO , R.H.

Ben. Good- morrow, cousin.

(Crosses to centre .)
Rom. Is the day so young ?
6 ROMEO AND
Ben. But new struck nine.
Rom. Ah me ! sad hours seem long.
Mer. 'Pr'ythee, what sadness lengthens Romeo's
hours ?
Rom. Not having that, which, having, makes them
short.
Ben. In love, meseems !
Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,
Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof
Rom. Where shall we dine ? —Ō me ! — Cousin
Benvolio,
What was the fray this morning with the Capulets ?
Yet tell me not ; for I have heard it all.
Here's much to do with hate ; but more with love :
Love, heavy lightness ! serious vanity !
Mis-shapen chaos of well seeming forms !
This love feel I ; but such my froward fate,
That there I love, where most I ought to hate.
Dost thou not laugh, my friend ? --O, Juliet, Juliet !
Ben. No, coz, I rather weep .
Rom. Good heart, at what ?
Ben. At thy good heart's oppression.
Mer. Tell me, in sadness,* who she is you love.
Rom. In sadness then, I love a woman.
Mer. I aim'd so near, when I suppos'd you lov❜d.
Rom. A right good marksman And she's fair I
love ;
But knows not of my love : 'twas through my eyes
The shaft empierc'd my heart ; chance gave the wound
Which time can never heal : no star befriends me ;
To each sad night succeeds a dismal morrow ;
And still 'tis hopeless love, and endless sorrow.
Mer. Be rul'd by me ; forget to think of her.
Rom. O, teach me how I should forget to think.
Mer. By giving liberty unto thine eyes :
Take thou some new infection to thy heart,
And the rank poison of the old will die:
Examine other beauties.
Rom. He that is strucken blind, cannot forget
* Sadness.- Gravely.
 JULIET. 7
The precious treasure of his eyesight lost :
Show me a mistress that is passing fair ;
What doth her beauty serve, but as a note
Rememb'ring me, who past that passing fair ?
Farewell ; thou canst not teach me to forget:
Mer. I warrant thee ; if thou'lt but stay to hear.
To-night there is an ancient splendid feast
Kept by old Capulet, our enemy,
Where all the beauties of Verona meet.
Rom. At Capulet's ?
Mer. At Capulet's, my friend :
Go there ; and, with an unattainted eye,
Compare her face with some that I shall show,
And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.
Rom. When the devout religion of mine eyes
Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires,
And burn the hereticks ! All- seeing Phoebus
Ne'er saw her match, since first his course began.
Mer. Tut, tut, you saw her fair, none else being
by,
Herself pois'd with herself; but let be weigh'd
Your lady- love against some other fair,
And she will show scant well.
Rom. I will along, Mercutio.
Mer. 'Tis well : look to behold at this high feast
Earth-treading stars that make dim heaven's lights :
Hear all, all see, try all ; and like her most,
That most shall merit thee.
Rom. My mind is chang'd :
I will not go to- night.
Mer. Why, may one ask ?
Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night.
Mer. Ha ha ! a dream ?
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 atomiest
* Your lady love.- The love you bear your lady.
+ Atomies.—Atoms. 08.4
B4
8 ROMEO AND
Athwart men's noses , as they lie asleep :
Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs ;
The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers ;
The traces, of the smallest spider's web ;
The collars of the moonshine's watʼry beams :
Her whip, of cricket's bone ; the lash, of film :
Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat,
Not half 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 of mind the fairies' coach-makers :
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains , and then they dream of love
On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight :
Q'er doctors' fingers, who straight dream on fees :
O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream :
Sometime she gallops o'er a lawyer's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit :
And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail,
Tickling a parson as he 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
Rom, Peace , peace ;
Thou talk'st of nothing.
Mer. True, I talk ofdreams :
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.
Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from our
selves ;
And we shall come too late.
(Crosses to R.H. )
Rom. I fear too early ; for my mind misgives
 JULIET . 9
Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars,
From this night's revels.-Lead, my gallant friends.
[Exeunt Benvolio and Mercutio, R.H.
Let come what may, once more I will behold
My Juliet's eyes ! drink deeper of affliction
I'llwatch the time ; and, mask'd from observation,
Make known my sufferings, but conceal my name .
Though hate and discord ' twixt our sires increase,
Let in our hearts dwell love and endless peace .
[Exit, R.H.

SCENE IV. — A Room in Capulet's House.

Enter LADY CAPULET, R.H. NURSE, LH.

La. Cap. Nurse, where's my daughter call her

forth to me.
Nurse. Now, by my faith,
I bad her come . - Crosses to L.H.) What, lamb ! what,
lady-bird -Heaven forbid ! where's this girl -what
Juliet !

Enter JULIET, L.H.

Jul. How now, who calls ?

Nurse. Your mother.
Jul. Madam, I am here. (Crosses to centre.)
What is your will ?
La. Cap. This is the matter :-Nurse give leave
awhile ;
We must talk in secret.-Nurse , come back again ;
I have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our counsel.
Thou know'st, my daughter's of a pretty age.
Nurse. 'Faith I can tell her age unto an hour.
La. Cap. She's not eighteen.
Nurse. I'll lay eighteen of my teeth,
And yet, to my teen* be it spoken, I've but eight,
She's not eighteen : how long is it now
To Lammas - tide ?
La. Cap. A fortnight and odd days .
* Teen -Sorrow.
10 ROMEO AND
Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year
Come Lammas- eve at night, shall she be eighteen.
Susan and she-heaven rest all christian souls !
Were of an age. —Well , Susan is in heaven ;
She was too good for me.- But, as I said,
On Lammas- eve at night shall she be eighteen ;
That shall she, marry : I remember it well ;
"Tis since the earthquake now just fifteen years :
And she was wean'd,-I never shall forget it,
Of all the days in the year, upon that day :
For I had then laid wormwood to my breast,
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 the breast and felt it bitter, pretty fool !
To see it tetchy, and fall out with the breast.
Shake, quoth the dove-house ! ' twas no need, I trow,
To bid me trudge !
And since that time it is now fifteen 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- heaven 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 holy dam,
The pretty wench 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
hé !
And, pretty fool ! it stinted,† and said- Ay.
Jul. And stint thou too , I pray thee, Nurse, say I.
Nurse. Peace I have done . Heaven mark thee to
its grace !
Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd !
* Bear a brain.- I recollect.
+ Stinted.- Ceased weeping.
 JULIET. 11

An I might live to see thee married once,

I have my wish.
La. Cap. And that same marriage is the very theme
I came to talk of. —Tell me daughter Juliet,
How stands your disposition to be married ?
Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of.
Nurse. An honour ! Were not I thine only Nurse,
I'd say, thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat. y
La . Cap. 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 .
La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a flower.
Nurse. Nay ; he's a flower ; in faith, a very flower.
La. Cap. What say you ? Can you like of Paris'
love ?
Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move !
But no more deep will I endart my eye,
Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.

Enter PETER, L.H.

Pet. Madam, the guests are come, and brave ones,

all in masks . You are call'd ; my young lady ask'd
for ; the Nurse curs'd in the pantry ; supper almost
ready to be served up ; and every thing in extremity
I must hence to wait.
La. Cap. We follow thee. [Exeunt, L.H.

SCENE V.—A Hall in Capulet's House.

CAPULET, with the PRINCE, PARIS, TYBALT, and other

Gentlemen and Ladies, masked, -Samson and Gre
gory waiting,-discovered.
* Man ofwax - Well formed .
B 6
12 ROMEO AND

Enter JULIET, LADY CAPULET, and NURSE, L.H.

Cap. Gentlemen, welcome ! Ladies that have their

feet
Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout with you —
Ah ah, 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 you now ?

Enter PETER, showing in MERCUTIO, ROMEO, and

BENVOLIO masked, L.H.

You're welcome, gentlemen. - I've 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.
-More light, ye knaves ; and turn the tables up,
And quench the fire ; the room is grown too hot.
(Music.)
Rom. Cousin Benvolio, do you mark that lady
Which doth enrich the hand of yonder gentleman ?
Ben. I do.
Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright !
Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night,
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear.
The measure done, I'll wait her to her place,
And, touching hers, make happy my rude hand.
Be still, be still, my fluttering heart ! (They retire.)
Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montague,
Come hither, cover'd with an antic face,
To fleer and scorn at our solemnity !
Now by the stock and honour of my race,
To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.
Cap. Why how now, kinsman ? wherefore storm
you thus ?
Tyb. Uncle , this is a Montague, our foe ;
A villain, that is hither come in spite,
To scorn and flout at our solemnity.
Cap. Young Romeo is't ?
 JULIET. 13
Tyb. That villain Romeo.
Cap. Content thee, gentle coz ; let him alone ;
He bears him like a courtly 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 this town,
Here in my house, do him disparagement ;
Therefore be patient, take no note of him.
Tyb. It fits, when such a villain is a guest :
I'll not endure him .
Cap. He shall be endur'd :
Am I the master here, or you ? Go to !
"
Be quiet, cousin , or I'll make you quiet.
Tyb. Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting,
Makes my flesh tremble in their difference.
I will withdraw ; but this intrusion shall,
Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall.
[Exit Tybalt, R.H.
(Dance . )
Rom. If I profane with my unworthy hand ( To Jul.)
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this.
(Kisses her hand.)
Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too
much ;
For palm to palm is holy palmers ' kiss.
Rom. Have not saints lips , and holy palmers too ?
Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
Rom . Thus, then, dear saint, let lips put up their
prayer. (Salutes her.)
Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with
you . (Rom . and Jul. go up the stage. )
Mer. 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 nurs'd her daughter ; heiress to lord Capulet :
I tell you, he that can lay hold on her,
Shall have the chinks.
Mer. Is she a Capulet ?
Come, Romeo, let's be gone ; the sport is over.
14 ROMEO AND 1
Rom. Ay, so I fear ; the more is my mishap.
(Going, L.H.)
Cap. 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 ; and let's to supper.
[Exeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, Prince, Paris,
Gentlemen, Ladies, Samson, and Gregory, R.H.S.E.
Jul. Come hither, Nurse -What is yon gentle
man ? [Exit Benvolio, L.H.
Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio .
Jul. What's he that now is going out of door ?
[Exit Mercutio, L.H.
Nurse. That, as I think, is young Mercutio.
Jul. What's he that follows there, that would not
dance ? [ Exit Romeo, L.H.
Nurse. I know not.
Jul. Go, ask his name.- [ Exit Nurse, L.B.
If he be married,
My grave is like to be my wedding bed .

Re-enter Nurse, L.H.

Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Montague ;

The only son of your great enemy .
Jul. My only love sprung from my only hate !
Too early seen unknown, and known too late !
Nurse. What's this ? what's this ?
Jul. A rhyme I learn'd e'en now
Of one I talk'd withall.
Cap. Why, Juliet. (Capulet without, R.H.)
Nurse . Anon, anon.-
Come, let's away ; the strangers all are gone.
[ Exeunt, R.H.

END OF ACT I.
 15
T JULIET.
ACT .II.

SCENE I- An open Place, adjoining Capulet's

Garden.

Rom. Can I go forward, when my heart is here ?

Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.
[ Exit, R.H.

Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO, L.H.

Ben. Romeo ! my cousin Romeo !

Mer. He is wisee ;
And, on my life, hath stolen him honie to bed.
Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall.
Call, good Mercutio .
Mer. Nay, I'll conjure too.
Why, Romeo ! humours ! madman ! passion ! lover!
Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh,
Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied ;
Cry out- Ah me ! couple but- love and dove ;
Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,
One nick-name for her purblind son and heir !
I conjure thee, by thy mistress's bright eyes,
By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip,
By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh,
That in thy likeness thou appear to us.
Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him .
Mer. This cannot anger him ! My invocation
Is fair and honest ; and in his mistress' name
I conjure, only to raise up him.
Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among those trees,
To be consorted with the humourous* night !
Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.
Mer. Romeo, good night !-I'll to my truckle- bed,
This field- bed is too cold for me to sleep !
Come, shall we go ?
Ben. Go, then ; for ' tis in vain
To seek him here, that means not to be found .
[Exeunt, L.H.
* Humorous.- Dewy.
16 ROMEO AND

SCENE II.- Capulet's Garden.

Enter ROMEO, l.h.

Rom. He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

(Juliet appears at the Balcony, and sits down .)
But, soft ! What light thro' 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.—
She speaks, yet she says nothing : what of that ?
Her eye discourses : I will answer it.-
I am too bold.- O, were those eyes in heaven,
They would through the airy region stream so bright,
That birds would sing, and think it were the morn.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand !
Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek !
Jul. Ah me !
Rom. She speaks, she speaks !
O, speak again, bright angel ! for thou art
As glorious to this sight, being o'er my head,
As is a winged messenger of heaven
To the up-turned wond'ring eyes of mortals,
When he bestrides the lazy pacing clouds,
And sails upon the bosom of the air.
Jul. 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.
Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this ?
Jul. ' Tis but thy name, that is my enemy !
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, quit thy name;
And for that name, which is no part of thee,
Take all myself,
 JULIET. 17
Rom. I take thee at thy word ! (Juliet starts up.)
Call me but love, I will forswear my name,
And never more be Romeo.
Jul. What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd in
night,
So stumblest on my counsel ?
Rom . 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.
Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words
Of that tongue's uttering, yet I know the sound !
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague ?
Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee displease.
Jul. How cam'st thou hither ?-tell me, and for
what ?
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.
Rom. 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 stop to me,
Jul. If they see thee here, they will murder thee.
Rom. Alack ! there lies more peril in thine eye,
Than twenty of their swords ! look thou but sweet,
And I am proof against their enmity.
Jul. I would not, for the world, they saw thee here.
By whose direction found'st thou out this place ?
Rom . 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 furthest sea,
I would adventure for such merchandise.
Jul. 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 !
18 ROMEO AND
Dost thou love me ? I know, thou wilt say,-Ay ;
And I will take thy word ! yet, if thou swear'st,
Thou may'st prove false ; at lovers' perjuries,
They 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, and say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo ! but else, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond ;
And therefore thou may'st think my ' haviour 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 has so discovered.
Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon, I vow, --
Jul. O swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,
That monthly changes in her circled orb ;
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
Rom. What shall I swear by?
Jul. 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.
Rom. If my true heart's love
Jul. Well do not swear ! although I joy in thee,
I have no joy of this contract to- night ;
It is too rash, too unadvis'd, 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 !
Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied ?
Jul. What satiafaction canst thou have to -night ?
Rom. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for
mine.
 JULIET. 19
Jul. I gave thee mine, before thou didst request it :
And yet I would it were to give again.
Rom. Would'st thou withdraw it ? for what pur
pose, love ?
Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again .
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 !
Nurse. (Within, R.H.) Madam !
Jul. Anon, good Nurse ! -Sweet Montague be
true.
Stay but a little, I will come again . [ Exit from balcony.
Rom. O blessed , blessed night ! I am afeard,
Being in night, all this is but a dream ,
Too-flattering sweet to be substantial.

Re-enter JULIET, above.

Jul, 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 love, throughout the world.
Nurse . (Within, R.H.) Madam,
Jul. I come, anon !-But , if thou mean'st not
well,
I do beseech thee,
Nurse. (Within, R.H.) Madam ,
Jul. By and by, I come !—
To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief.
To-morrow will I send.
Rom. So thrive my soul,— [balcony,
Jul. A thousand times good night ! [Exitfrom
Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy light.
[ Exit, L.H.
20 ROMEO AND

Re-enter JULIET, L.H.

Jul. Hist ! Romeo, hist ! -Oh , 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 entering, L.H.

Rom. It is my love that calls upon my name !

How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,
Like softesh music to attending ears !
Jul. Romeo !
Rom. My sweet !
Jul. At what o'clock to -morrow
Shall I send to thee ?
Rom. At the hour of nine .
Jul. I will not fail ; ' tis twenty years ' till then.
I have forgot why did I call thee back.
Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it.
Jul. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,
Rememb'ring how I love thy company.
Rom. And I'll stay here to have thee still forget,
Forgetting any other home but this .
Jul. '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,
And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous of its liberty.
Rom. I would, I were thy bird.
Jul. 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.
[Exit, from the balcony.
Tassel.- Male of the gosshawk, so called because it is a tierce
or third less than the female.
 JULIET. 21

Rom . 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.
[Exit, L.H.

SCENE III - A Monastery .

Enter Friar LAURENCE, with a Basket, R.H.

Lau. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning

night.
Check'ring the eastern clouds with streaks of light;
Now ere the sun advance his burning eye,
The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to try,
I must up-fill this osier cage of ours,
With baleful weeds, and precious -juiced flowers.
O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies
In plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities,
For nought so vile that on earth doth live,
But to the earth some special good doth give ;
Nor ought so good, but strain'd from that fair use
Revolts to vice and stumbles 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 sense cheers each part ;
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart,
Two such opposed foes 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.
Rom. (Within, L.B.) Good-morrow, father.
Lau, Benedicite !
What early tongue so sweet saluteth me ?

Enter ROMEO, L.H.

Young son, it argues a distemper'd head,

22 ROMEO AND

So soon to bid good -morrow to thy pillow.

Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
And where care lodges, sleep will never bide ;
But where, with unstuft brain , unbruised youth
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep resides.
Therefore, thy earliness assureth me
Thou art up rouz'd by some distemp❜rature.
What is the matter, son ?
Rom. I tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.
I have been feasting with mine enemy ;
Where to the heart's core, one hath wounded me,
That's by me wounded ; both our remedies
Within thy help and holy physic lie.
Lau. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift.
Rom . Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is
set
On Juliet, Capulet's fair daughter ;
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine :
But when, and where, and how
We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vows,
I'll tell thee as we pass ; but this I beg,
That thou consent to marry us to-day.
Lau. Holy saint Francis !
But tell me son, and call thy reason home,
Is not this love the offspring of thy folly,
Bred from thy wantonness and thoughtless brain ?
Be heedful, youth, and see thou stop betimes,
Lest that thy rash ungovernable passions,
O'er- leaping duty, and each due regard,
Hurry thee on, thro' short-liv'd dear- bought pleasures,
To cureless woes, and lasting penitence.
Rom. I pray thee, chide me not ; she whom I love,"
Doth give me grace for grace, and love for love ;
Do thou with heav'n smile upon our union ;
Do not with-hold thy benediction from us,
But make two hearts, by holy marriage, one .
Lau. Well, come my pupil, go along with me : !
In one respect I'll give thee my assistance ;
For this alliance may so happy prove,
To turn your household rancour to pure love.
 JULIET. 23
Rom. O let us hence, love stands on sudden haste.
Lau. Wisely and slow, they stumble that run fast.
[Exeunt, R.H.

SCENE IV.- The Street.

Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUtio , l.h.

Mer. Where the devil should this Romeo be ? came

he not home to- night ?
Ben. Not to his father's ; I spoke with his man.
Mer. Why, that same pale hard-hearted wench,
that Juliet, torments him so, that he will sure run
mad.
Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman to old Capulet,
Hath sent a letter to his father's house.
Mer. A challenge, on my life.
Ben. Romeo will answer it.
Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead ! stabb'd
with a white wench's black eye ; run 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 ?
Ben. Why, what is Tybalt ?
Mer. Oh, he's the courageous captain of compli
ments : He fights, as you sing prick-song ; keeps
time, distance and proportion ; rests me his minim
rest,-one, two, and the thirdin your bosom ; the very
butcher of a silk button , a duellist, a duellist ; a gen
tleman of the very first house, of the first and second
cause ; ah, the immortal passado ! the punto reverso !
the hay !
Ben. The what ?
Mer. The plague of such-antick, lisping, affected
fantasticoes, these new tuners of accents ! -Ma foi,
a very good blade ! -a very tall man ! a very fine
wench ! -why, is not this a lamentable thing, grand
sire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange
flies, these fashion- mongers, these pardonnez moi's ?
* The allusion is to archery.-The mark at which the arrows are
directed, was fastened by a black pin placed in the centre of it,
24 ROMEO AND
Ben. Here comes Romeo.
Mer. Without his roe , like a dried herring. O flesh,
Flesh, how art thou fishified ! Now is he for the num
bers that Petrarch flow'd 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, bildings and harlots ; Thisbe, a grey
eye or so, but not the purpose. -

Enter ROMEO, R.H.

Signior Romeo, bonjour ! there's a French salutation

for you .
Rom. Good morrow to you both .
Mer. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night.
Rom. What counterfeit did I give you ?
Mer. The slip, sir, the slip ; can you not conceive ?
Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was
great ; and, in such a case as mine, a man may strain
courtesy.

Enter NURSE and PETER. L, H.

Ben. A sail ! a sail !

Mer. Two, two ; a shirt, and a smock.
Nurse. Peter !
Pet. Anon ?
Nurse. My fan, Peter.
Mer. Do, good Peter, to hide her face.
Nurse. 'Give ye good morrow, gentlemen.
Mer. 'Give ye good den, † fair gentlewoman.
Nurse. Gentlemen , can any of you tell me where I
may find the young Romeo ?
Rom. I am the youngest of that name, for ' fault of
a worse.
Nurse. You say well. If you be he, sir, I desire
some confidence with you.
Ben. She will indite him to supper presently.
* The Slip,—A coin so called in Shakspeare's time.
+ Good-den - Good even.
 JULIET. 25
Mer. A bawd, a bawd, a bawd !-So ho !
Rom. What hast thou found ?
Mer. No hare, sir ; but a bawd. - Romeo, will you
come to your father's ? We'll to dinner thither.
Rom. I will follow you.
Mer. Farewell, ancient lady.- Peter, my fan.
Farewell, lady.
[ Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO, L.H.
Nurse. I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was
this, that was so full of his roguery ?
Rom. A gentleman, Nurse, that loves to hear him
self talk ; and will speak more in a minute, than he
will stand to in a month. (Rom, turns up the stage.)
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. ( To Peter.)
-And thou must stand by too, and suffer every knave
to use me at his pleasure!
Pet. I saw no man use you at his 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 heaven, I am so vex'd, that every
part about me quivers. Scurvy knave !-' Pray you,
sir, a word ; (To Rom., Rom. advances.) - And, as I
told you, my young lady bid 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 para
dise, as they say, it were a very gross kind of behaviour,
as they say ; for the gentlewoman is young ; and, there
fore, ifyou should deal double with her, truly, it were
an ill thing to be offer'd to any gentlewoman.
Rom. 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 .
Rom. What wilt thou tell her, Nurse ? Thou dost
not mark me.
26 ROMEO AND
Nurse. I will tell her, sir,-that you do protest ;
which, as I take it, is a very gentleman- like offer.
Rom . Bid her devise some means to come to shrift
This afternoon ;
And there she shall, at friar Laurence' cell,
Be shriv'd, and married . - Here is for thy pains.
(Offers her money.)
Nurse. No truly, sir ; not a penny.
Rom. Go to ; I say, you shall.
(Nurse takes thepurse.)
Nurse. This afternoon , sir ? Well, she shall be there.
Rom. 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.
Commend me to thy lady. [Exit, R.H.
Nurse. Ay,-a thousand times.- Peter !
Pet. Anon ?
Nurse. Peter, take my fan, and go before.
[Exeunt, L.H.
SCENE V.-Juliet's Chamber.
Enter JULIET, R.H.
Jul. 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 low'ring 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'd be as swift in motion as a ball ;
My words would bandy her to my sweet love,
* Tackled stair.— Like stairs of a rope in the tackle of a ship.
 JULIET. 27
And his to me.-
Enter NURSE, L.H.

O heaven ! she comes.- (Crosses to L.H.) O honey

Nurse, what news ?
Hast thou met him ?
Now, good sweet Nurse,
O lord, why look'st thou sad ?
Nurse, I am a-weary, let me rest awhile :
(Sits Down.)
Fy, how my bones ake ! What a jaunt have I had !
Jul. Nay, come, I pray thee, speak ; -good, good
Nurse, speak.
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.-Go thy ways, wench
-serveheaven !-What, have you din'd at home ?
Jul. No, no ;-but
What says he of our marriage ? what of that ?
Nurse. Lord how my head akes ! 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 !
Jul. I' faith, I'm 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's your mother ?
Jul. Where is my mother ?-Why, she is within ;
Where should she be ? How oddly thou repliest !
Your love says like an honest gentleman,
Where isyour mother ?
Nurse. O, our lady dear !
Are you so hot ? Marry, come up ! I trow;
Is this the poultice for my aking bones ?
Henceforward do your messages yourself.
Jul. Here's such a coil ! -Come, what says Romeo ?
C2
28 ROMEO AND
Nurse. Have you got leave to go to shrift to day ?
Jul. 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.
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.—
Go ; I'll to dinner ; hie you to the cell.
Jul. Hie to high fortune ! Honest Nurse farewell .
[Exeunt Nurse, R.H. Jul. L.H ,

SCENE VI.— The Cloisters ofa Convent.

Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and ROMEO, R.H.

Lau. So smile the heavens upon this holy act,

That after-hours with sorrow chide us not !
Rom. 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.
Lau. 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 its own deliciousness,
And in the taste confounds the appetite ;
Therefore, love moderately,-Here comes the lady.
[Exit Romeo, L.H.
O, so light a foot
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint ;
A lover may bestride the gossamers
That idle in the wanton summer air,
And yet not fall ; so light is vanity.

Enter ROMEO and JULIET, L.H.

Jul. Good-even to my ghostly confessor.

 JULIET. 29
Lau. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us
both;
Rom. Ab, 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 imagin'd happiness that both
Receive in either by this dear encounter.
Jul. 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 half my sum of wealth .
Lau. Come, come with me ;
For by your leaves, you shall not stay alone,
Till Holy Church incorporate two in one. [Exeunt, R.H.

END OF ACT II.

ACT III.

SCENE I- The Street.

Enter MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO, L.H.

Ben. 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.
Mer. 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, heav'n send me no need of
thee ; and by the operation of a second cup, draws it
on the drawer, when, indeed, there is no need.
Ben. Am I like such a fellow.
Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy
mood, as any in Italy ; an' there were two such, we
* The day is hot-In Italy most assassinations are committed
during the heat ofsummer.
c3
 1

30 ROMEO AND

should bave none shortly, for one should kill the other.
Thou ! why thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a
hair more, or a hair less on his head than thou hast.
Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having
no other reason, but because thou hast hazel eyes ;
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 ano
ther, for tying his new shoes with old riband ? and
yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling !
Ben. 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. By my head, here come the Capulets.
Mer. By my heel, I care not.

Enter TYBALT, R.H.

Tyb. (Speaking as he enters.) Be near at hand, I

will speak to them.
Gentlemen, good den . A word with one of you.
Mer. And but one word with one of us ? Couple it
with something ; make it a word and a blow.
Tyb. You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, if
you will give me occasion.
Mer. Could you not take some occasion, without
giving ?
Tyb. Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo.
Mer. Consort ? What, dost thou make us minstrels ?
if thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but
discords ; here's my fiddle-stick, here's that shall make
you dance. Zounds ! consort !
(Laying his hand on his sword.)
Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men ;
Either withdraw into some private place,
Or reason coolly of your grievances,
Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.
Mer. Mens' eyes were made to look, and let them
gaze,
I will not budge, for no man's pleasure, I.
 JULIET. 31

Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sirs, here comes my

man .
Mer. But I'll be hang'd, sir, if he wear your livery.

Enter ROMEO, L.H.

Tyb. Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford

No better term than this ; thou art a villain .
Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee ;
Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
To such a greeting. Villain I am none ;
Therefore farewell ; I see thou know'st me not.
Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
That thou hast done me ; therefore turn and draw.
Rom. I do protest I never injured thee.
But love thee better than thou canst devise ;
And so, good Capulet, (which name I tender
As dearly as my own) be satisfied.
[Exeunt, Rom. R.H. Tyb. L.H.
Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission !
Ha ! la stoccata carries it away-Tybalt- you rat
catcher. (Draws.)

Re-enter TYBALT, L.H.

Tyb. What would'st thou have of me?

Mer. Good king of cats,* nothing but one of your nine
lives ; that I mean to make bold withal . Will you pluck
your sword out of his pilcher by the ears ? Make
haste, lest mine be about your ears, ere it be out.
Tyb. I am for you, sir. (Drawing.)

Re-enter ROMEO, R.H.

Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up .

Mer. Come, sir, your passado.
(Mer. and Tyb. fight .)
* King of Cats-Tybert the name given to the cat in the story
book of Reynard the Fox.
C4
32 ROMEO AND
Rom, Draw, Benvolio ;-beat down their weapons !
Gentlemen !-Forshame, forbear this outrage ;
Hold, Tybalt, good Mercutio,
[Exit Tyb. having wounded Mer. R.H.
Mer. I am hurt ;
A plague o' both your houses !-I am sped ; —
Is he gone and hath nothing ?
Ben. What art thou hurt ?
Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch ; marry ' tis
enough ;-Go, fetch a surgeon.
Rom. Courage, man ; the hurt cannot be much.
Mer. No, ' tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as
a church-door ; but ' tis enough, ' twill serve ; I am
pepper'd, I warrant, for this world.-A plague o'
both your houses !-What ! 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.
Rom . I thought all for the best.
Mer. 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. Ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me
a grave man. - -A plague o' both your houses !
[Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio, L.H.
Rom. 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 ;-O, sweet Juliet,
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,
And in my temper soften'd valour's steel .

Enter BENVOLIO, L.H.

Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead ;

That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds,
Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. -
Here comes the furious Tybalt back again..
 JULIET. 33
Rom . Alive ! in triumph ! and Mercutio slain ?
Away to heav'n, respective* lenity, ( Crosses to L.H.)
And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now!

Enter TYBALt, r.h.

Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,

(Crosses to R.H.)
That late thou gav'st me ! for Mercutio's soul
Is but a little way above our heads,
And thou or I must keep him company.
Tyb. Thou wretched boy, that did'st consort him
here,
Shalt with him hence.
Rom. This shall determine that.
(Theyfight :-Tybalt falls, and dies . )
Ben. Romeo, away, begone ;
The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain
Stand not amaz'd ; the Prince will doom thee death,
If thou art taken. Hence, begone, away.
Rom. O! I am fortune's fool. [Exit, R.H.

Enter PRINCE, MONTAGUE, CAPULET, Citizens, &c.

R.H.U.E.

Prince. Where are the vile beginners of this fray ?

Ben. O noble Prince, I can discover all
The unlucky manage of this fatal quarrel .
There lies the man, slain by young Romeo,
That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio .
Cap. Unhappy sight ! -Alas the blood is spill'd
Of my dear kinsman-Now, as thou art a prince
For blood of ours shed blood of Montague.
Prince. Benvolio who began this bloody fray ?
Ben. Tybalt, here slain ;
Romeo bespake him fair, bade him bethink
How nice the quarrel was, and urg'd withal
* Respective- Considerate .
+ Conduct- Conductor.
 34 ROMEO AND
Your high displeasure . All this, uttered
With gentle breath, calm looks, knees humbly bow'd,
Could not make 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 ton
gue,
His agile arm beats down their fatal points,
And 'twixt them rushes ; underneath whose arm
An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life
1
Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled ;
But bye and bye comes back to Romeo,
Who had but newly entertained 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 to fly.
This is the truth , or let Benvolio suffer.
Cap. He is a kinsman to the Montague,
Affection makes him false ; he speaks not true .
I beg for justice ; justice, gracious Prince ;
Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.
Prince. Romeo slew him , he slew Mercutio ;
Who now the price of his dear blood hath paid .
Mount. Romeo but took the forfeit life of Tybalt.
Prince. And we, for that offence do banish him.
I have an int'rest in your heady brawls ;
My blood doth flow from brave Mercutio's wounds ;
But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine,
That you shall all repent my loss in him.
I will be deaf to pleading and excuses,
Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase our repeal ;
Therefore use none ; let Romeo be gone,
Else when he is found, that hour is his last.
Bear hence this body, you attend our will ;
 JULIET. 35
Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill .
[Exeunt Prince, Mont. Ben. and Attendants, L.H,
Cap. R.H.

SCENE II.— A Room in Capulet's House.

Enter JULIET, L.H.

Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery- footed steeds,

To Phoebus ' mansion : such a waggoner
As Phaeton, would whip you to the west,
And bring in cloudy night immediately.—
Spread thy close curtain , love performing night,
That the runaways eyes may wink ; and Romeo
Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen :—
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.
Give me my Romeo, night ! —and, when he dies ,
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. 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.

Enter NURSE, L.H.

Now, Nurse, 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 !
Jul. Can heaven be so envious ?
36 ROMEO AND
Nurse. Romeo can ;
Though heaven cannot.-O Romeo ! Romeo !
Jul. 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-ay,
And that bare little word shall poison more
Than the death - darting eye of cockatrice.
Nurse . I saw the wound, I saw it with mine
eyes,
Here on his manly breast.-A piteous corse !
A bloody, piteous corse ! pale, pale as ashes !
I swooned at the sight .
Jul. 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,
That ever I should live to see thee dead !
Jul. What storm is this that blows so contrary ?
Is Romeo slaughter'd ? and is Tybalt dead !
Nurse. Tybalt is dead, and Romeo banished.
Jul. Banished ! is Romeo banished ?
Nurse. Romeo , that kill'd him, he is banished.
Jul. O, heaven ! -did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's
blood ?
Nurse. It did, it did ; alas, the day it did.
Jul, O, nature, what hadst thou to do in hell,
When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend
In mortal paradise of such sweet flesh ?—
O, that deceit should dwell
In such a gorgeous palace .
Nurse. There is no trust,
No faith, no honesty in men ; all perjured ;
Shame come to Romeo !
Jul. Blister'd be thy.tongue,
For such a wish : he was not born to shame :
Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit ;
For ' tis a throne where honour may be crown'd,
 JULIET . 37
Sole monarch of the universal earth .
Oh, what a wretch was I to chide him so.
(Crosses to L.H.)
Nurse. Will you speak well of him that kill'd your
cousin ?
Jul. 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?
Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring !
Your tributary drops belong to woe,
Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy.
My husband lives, whom 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, far worse 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. In that word,
Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,
All slain all dead ! (Crosses to R.H.)
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.
Jul. Wash they his wounds with tears ? My eyes
shall flow,
When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.
Nurse. Hie to your chamber, I'll find Romeo
To comfort you.- He shall be here anon ;
I'll to him ; he is hid at Laurence' cell.
Jul. O, find him. Give this ring to my true lord ,
And bid him come to take his last farewell .
[Exeunt, Nurse, L.H. Juliet, R.H.
38 ROMEO AND

SCENE III.- The Cloisters of a Convent.

Enter FRIAR LAURENCE, L.H.

Lau. Romeo, come forth ; come forth, thou fearful

man ;
Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts,
And thou art wedded to calamity.

Enter ROMEO, r.h.

Rom. Father, what news ? what is the Prince's

doom ?
What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,
That I yet know not ?
Lau. Too familiar
Is my dear son with such sour company ;
I bring thee tidings of the Prince's doom .
Rom. What less than death can be the Prince's
doom ?
Lau. A gentler judgement vanish'd from his lips ;
Not body's death, but body's banishment .
Rom. Ha ! banishment ?-Be merciful ; say-- death ;
For exile hath more terror in his look,
Much more than death ; Do not say-banishment ;
"Tis death mis -term'd ; calling death- banishment,
Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe,
And smil'st upon the stroke that murders me.
(Crosses to L.H. )
Lau. O deadly sin ! O rude unthankfulness !
Thy fault our law calls death ; but the kind Prince,
Taking thy part, hath push'd aside the law,
And turn'd that black word death to banishment ;
This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not .
Rom. "Tis torture, and not mercy,; heaven is here,
Where Juliet lives. There's more felicity
In carrion flies, than Romeo ; they may seize
On the white wonder of Juliet's hand,
And steal immortal blessings from her lips ;
 JULIET.
39
But Romeo may not, he is banished.—
O father, hast thou no strong poison mix'd,
No sharp ground knife, no sudden means of death,
But banishment to torture me withal ?
(Crosses to R.H. )
Lau, Fond madman, hear me speak ;
'll give thee armour to keep off that word,
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
To comfort thee, though thou art banished.
Rom . Yet banished ?-Hang up philosophy !
Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
It helps not, it prevails not ! talk no more.
(Crosses to L.H. )
Lau. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.
Rom. Thou canst not speak of what 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 might'st thou speak, then might'st thou tear thy
hair,
And fall upon the ground, as I do now,
Taking the measure of an unmade grave .
(Throws himself on the ground.- One Knocks
without, L.H. )
Lau. Arise ; one knocks : -Good Romeo, hide
—
thyself.
(Knocking again, L.H. )
Who's there ? -Romeo, arise ;
Thou wilt be taken.- Stay awhile .- Stand up :
Run to my study.
(Knocking again, L.H.)
Bye and bye.- Heaven's will,
What wilfulness is this !
(Knocking again, L.H.)
I come , I come.
Who knocks so hard ? Whence come you ? What's
your will?
(Nurse without, L.H. )
40 ROMEO AND

Nurse. Let me come in, and you shall know my

errand;
I come from lady Juliet.
Lau. Welcome then: (Opens the door.)

Enter NURSE , L.H.

Nurse. On holy father, tell me, holy friar,

Where is my lady's lord ? where's Romeo ?
Lau. There on the ground, with his own tears made
drunk.
Nurse. O , he is even in my mistress's case.
Just in her case . Oh Juliet, Juliet !
Rom. (Starts up.) Speak't thou of Juliet ! -how is
it with her,
Since I have stain'd the childhood of our joy,
With blood ?
Where is she? how does she ? what says she ?
Nurse. Oh she says nothing, sir, but weeps and
weeps,
And now falls on her bed, and then stars up,
And Tybalt cries, and then on Romeo calls ,
And then falls down again.
Rom. As if that name
Shot from the deadly level of a gun,
Did murder her. Oh 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.
Lau. Hold thy desparate hand :
Art thou a man ? thy form cries out thou art ;
Thy tears are womanish ; thy wild acts denote
Th' unreasonable fury of a beast.
Thou hast amaz'd me ; by my holy order,
I thought thy disposition better temper'd.
Hast thou slain Tybalt ? wilt thou slay thyself ?
And slay thy lady, too, that lives in thee ?
What, rouse thee, man ! thy Juliet is alive.
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,
 JULIET. 41
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 thy 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 rest.
Romeo is coming.
Nurse. O ; lord, I could have staid here all the
night,
To hear good counsel . Oh, what learning is !
My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.
Rom. 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. [ Exit, L.H :
Rom. How well my comfort is reviv'd by this !
Lau. 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.
Rom. But that a joy, past joy, calls out on me,
It were a grief so soon to part with thee.
[Exeunt, Rom. L.H. Lau. R.H.

SCENE IV.- Capulet's House.

Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and PARIS, L.H.

Cap. Things have fall'n out, sir, so unluckily,

That we have had no time to move our daughter.
Look you, she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly.
And so did I.- Well, we were born to die
'Tis very late ; she'll not come down to night.
Par. These times of grief afford no time to woo.
Madam, good night ; commend me to your daughter.
Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender
Of my child's love ; I think she will be rul'd
In all respects by me ; nay, more, I doubt it not.
But, soft ; what day ? Well, Wednesday is too soon ;
On Thursday, let it be ; you shall be married .
We'll keep no great ado ;-a friend or two ;
42 ROMEO AND

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's an end. But what say you to Thursday ?
Par. My lord, I would that Thursday were to
morrow !
Cap. Well, get you gone ; on Thursday be it then.
Go you to Juliet, ere you go to bed ;
Prepare her, wife, against this wedding day.—
[Exit Lady Capulet, R.H .
Farewell, my lord.- Light to my chamber, ho !—
Good night . [Exeunt Cap. R.H. Paris L.H.

SCENE V.- Capulet's Garden.

Enter ROMEO and JULIET, L.H.S.E.

Jul. Wilt thou be gone ? It is not yet near day ;

It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear ;
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate- tree.
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
Rom. 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 tip-toe on the misty mountain tops ;
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Jul. Yon light is not day-light, I know it well ;
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 .
Then stay a while, thou shalt not go so soon.
Rom . Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death ;
I am content if 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 ;
I'll say, ' tis not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads ;
 JULIET. 43
Come, death, and welcome ! Juliet wills it so.
What says my love ? let's talk, it is not day.
Jul. It is, it is ; hie hence, away, be gone ;
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords, and unpleasing sharps.
O, now be gone ; more light and light it grows.
Rom. More light and light ?-more dark and dark
our woes.
Farewell, my love ; -one kiss, and I'll be gone.

Enter NURSE, l.h.

Nurse. Madam .
Jul. Nurse ?
Nurse. Your lady mother ' s coming to your
chamber ;
The day is broke ; be wary, look about.
[ Exit, L.H.
Jul. Art thou gone so ?-Love ! lord ! ah, husband !
friend !
I must hear from thee every day i' the hour ;
For in love's hours there are many days.
O! by this count I shall be much in years,
Ere I again behold my Romeo .
Rom. Farewell ! I will omit no opportunity
That may convey my greetings to thee, love.
Jul. O, think'st thou we shall ever meet again ?
Rom. I doubt it not ; and all these woes shall serve
For sweet discourses in our time to come.
Jul. O heaven ! I have an ill- divining soul :
Methinks, I see thee, now thou'rt parting from me,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb ;
Either my eye-sight fails, or thou lookest pale .
Rom. And trust me, love, in my eye so do you;
Dry sorrow drinks our blood . - Adieu ! Juliet, fare
well !
My life !
Jul. My love !
Rom. My soul, adieu !
[Exeunt Juliet, L.H. Romeo, R.H.
44 ROMEO AND

SCENE VI.-Juliet's Chamber.

Enter JULIET, L.H.

Jul. 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.
La. Cap. (Without.) Ho, daughter ! are you up ?
Jul. Who is't that calls ? Is it my lady mother ?
What unaccustom'd cause procures her thither ?

Enter LADY CAPULET, R.H.

La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet ?

Jul. Madam I'm not well .
La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your cousin's
death ?
What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears ?
Jul. Let me weep for such a loss as mine.
La. Cap. I come to bring thee joyful tidings, girl .
Jul. And joy comes well in such a needful time.
What are they, I beseech your ladyship ?
La. Cap. Marry, my child, early next Thursday
morn,
The gallant, young, and noble gentleman,
The county Paris, at St. Peter's church,
Shall happily make thee a joyful bride.
Jul. I wonder at this haste ; that I must wed,
Ere he, that must be husband , comes to woo.
I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam,
I cannot marry yet .
La. Cap. Here comes your father ; tell him so your
self,
And see how he will take it at your hands.
 JULIET. 45

Enter CAPULET, and NURSE, l‚h .

Cap. How now ? a conduit, girl ? what, still in

tears ;
Evermore showering ? -Why, how now, wife !
Have you deliver'd to her our decree ?
La. Cap. Ay, sir ; but she will none, she gives you
thanks .
I would the fool were married to her grave.
Cap. 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 bless'd,
Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought
So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom ?
Jul. Proud can I never be of what I hate ;
But thankful even for hate, that is meant love.
Cap. Thank me no thankings ;
But settle your fine joints, ' gainst Thursday next,
To go with Paris to Saint Peter's church,
Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.
Jul. (Kneels.) Good father, I beseech you, on my
knees,
Hear me with patience but to speak a word.
Cap. 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.—
Wife, we scarce thought us bless'd,
That heaven had left 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. Heaven bless her !— (Raises Juliet.)
You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.
Cap. And why, my lady wisdom ? Hold your tongue,
Good prudence ; smatter with your gossips, go.
Nurse. I speak no treason.
Cap. Peace, you mumbling fool !
Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl ;
46 ROMEO AND
For here we need it not.
La. Cap. You are too hot.
Cap. Good wife, it makes me mad ; day, night,
late, early,
At home, abroad, alone, in company,
Waking or sleeping, still my care hath been
To have her match'd ; and having now provided
A gentleman of princely parentage,
Of fair demesnes, youthful and nobly train'd,
Proportion'd as one's heart 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, an you will not wed,-Look to't, think on't
I do not use to jest ;-Thursday is near ;
An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend ;
An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die i' the streets ;
For, by my soul , I'll ne'er acknowledge thee.
[Exit, L.H.
Jul. Is there no pity sitting in the clouds,
That sees into the bottom of my grief ?—
(Kneels .) 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.
La. Cap. Talk not to me; for I'll not speak a word ;
Do as thou wilt ; for I have done with thee.
[ Exit, L.H.
Jul. O, heaven ! -O, Nurse, how shall this be pre
vented ?
Nurse. Rise ;- 'Faith, here it is ;
Romeo is banish'd ; 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, I think it best
You married with the count.
Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart ?
Nurse. From my soul too ;
Or else beshrew them both.
 JULIET. 47
Jul. Amen! (Crosses to the opposite side.)
Nurse. What ? what ?
Jul. 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 absolv'd.
Nurse. Marry, I will, and this is wisely done.
[Exit, L.H.
Jul. Oh most wicked fiend !
Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn,
Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue,
Which she hath prais'd 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.
[Exit, R.H.
END OF ACT III .

ACT IV.

SCENE I.- The Monastery.

Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS, L.H.

Lau. On Thursday sir ! the time is very short.

Par. My father Capulet will have it so,
And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.
Lau. You say you do not know the lady's mind ;
Uneven is the course ; I like it not.
Par. 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.
Now do you know the reason of this haste ?
48 ROMEO AND
Lau. (Aside.) I would I knew not why it should be
slow'd.
Look, sir, here comes the lady tow'rds my cell.

Enter JULIET, L.h.

Par. Welcome, my love, my lady, and my wife.

Jul. That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.
Par. That may be, must be, love, on Thursday next.
Jul. What must be, shall be.
Par. Come you to make confession to this father ?
Jul. To answer that were to confess to you.
Are you at leisure, holy father, now, (Crosses to R.H.)
Or shall I come to you at evening mass?*
Lau. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.
My lord, we must entreat the time alone.
Par. Heav'n shield I should disturb devotion.
Juliet, farewell. [ Exit, L.H.
Jul. Go, shut the door ; and when thou hast done so,
Come weep with me, past hope, past cure, past help .
Lau. O Juliet ! I already know thy grief.
Jul. Tell me not, friar, that thou know'st my grief,
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 steel I'll help it presently.
(Draws a dagger.)
Heav'n 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,
Give to another, this shall slay them both ;
Therefore out of thy long- experienc'd time,
Give me some present counsel, or behold,
"Twixt my extremes and me, this bloody dagger
Shall play the umpire.
Lau. Hold, daughter I do spy a kind of hope,
Which craves as desperate an execution,
As that is desperate which we would prevent.
* Evening Mass.- It should be Vespers ; there is no such thing
as evening mass.
 JULIET 49
Ifrather than to marry county Paris,
Though hast the strength or will to slay thyself,
Then it is likely thou wilt undertake
A thing like death to free thee from this marriage,
Jul. O bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of yonder tower ;
Or chain me to some steepy mountain's top,
Where roaring bears and savage lions roam !
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 tohear 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.
(Crosses to L.H.)
Lau. Hold, Juliet ;-hie thee home ; get thee to
bed; -
Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber ;
And, when thou art alone take thou this phial,
And this distilled liquor drink thou off;
When, presently, through all thy veins shall run
A cold and drowsy humour ;
No warmth no breath, shall testify thou liv'st ;
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 !
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 shall awake,
Shall Romeo, by my letters, know our drift ;
And hither shall he come ; and he and I
D
 50 ROMEO AND
Will watch thy waking, and that very night
Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua :
If no unconstant toy, nor womanish fear,
Abate thy valour in the acting this.
Jul. Give me, O give me !-tell me not of fear.
(Gives her the Phial.)
Lau. Hold ; -get you gone ; be strong and pros
perous
In this resolve ; I'll send a friar with speed
To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord.
Jul. Love, give me strength ; and strength shall
help afford.
Farewell, dear father.
[Exeunt, Friar, R.H. Juliet, L.A.

SCENE II.—A Room in Capulet's House.

Enter CAPULET, R.H. meeting Lady Capulet, and

Nurse, L.H.

Cap. What, is my daughter gone to friar Laurence ?

Nurse. Ay, forsooth.
Cap. 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
looks.

Enter JULIET, L.H.

Cap. How now my headstrong ? where have you

been gadding ?
Jul. 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 rul'd by you.
Cap. Send for the county ; go, tell him of this !
I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning,
Jul. I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell ;
 JULIET. 51

And gave him what becoming love I might,

Not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty.
Cap. This is as't should be !
Now, afore heaven, this reverend holy friar,
All our whole city is much bound to him.
Jul. Nurse, will you go with me into my closet,
To help me sort such needful ornaments ( Crosses to R.H.)
As think fit to furnish me to-morrow ?
you
La. Cap.No, not till Thursday ; there is time enough.
Cap. Go, Nurse, go with her :-we'll to church
to-morrow. [Exeunt Juliet and Nurse, R.H.
Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her :
I'll not to bed ; but walk myself to Paris ,
To appoint him ' gainst to-morrow. My heart's light,
Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd .
[Exeunt Capulet , L.H. and Lady Capulet, R.H.

SCENE III.—Juliet's Chamber.

Enter JULIET and NURSE, R.H.U.E.

Jul. 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.

Enter LADY CAPULET, R.H.

La. Cap. What, are you busy ? Do you need my

help ?
Jul. 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.
La. Cap. Then, good night !
D2
52 < ROMEO AND
Get thee to bed, and rest ; for thou hast need.
[ Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse, R.H.
Jul. Farewell !-Heaven 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.
(Takes out the phial.)
Come, phial.
What if this mixture do not work at all ?
Shall I of force be married to the count ?
No, no ;-this shall forbid it ;-(Draws a dagger.)—
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,
1 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 ?
Or, ifI 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 pack'd ;
Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green* in earth,
Lies fest'ring in his shroud ; where, as they say,
At some hours in the night spirits resort ;
Or, if I wake, shall I not be distraught,
Environed with all these hideous fears,
And madly play with my forefathers' joints ?
And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud ?
Green in Earth- Fresh in Earth.
 JULIET. 53
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 ;-Stay, Tybalt, stay !
Romeo, I come ; this do I drink to thee.—
(Drinks the contents of the phial.)
O, potent draught, thou hast chill'd me to the heart !--
My head turns round ; -my senses fail me. -
O, Romeo ! Romeo !
(She throws herself on the bed.)

SCENE IV.- A Room in Capulet's House.

Enter LADY CAPULET and NURSE, L.H.

La. Cap. Hold, take these keys, and fetch more

spices, Nurse .
Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in the
pastry.

Enter CAPULET, L.H.

Cap. Come, stir, stir, stir ! the second cock hath

crow'd,
The curfew-bell hath rung, ' tis three o'clock :
Look to the bak'd meats , good Angelica :
Spare not for cost.
Nurse. Go, go, you cot- quean, go ;
Get you to bed ; ' faith, you'll be sick to-morrow
For this night's watching. [Exit L.H.
Cap. No, not a whit : What ! I have watch'd, ere
now,
All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick.
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.

D3
54 ROMEO AND

Enter NURSE, L.H.

Go, waken Juliet ; go, and trim her up :

I'll go and chat with Paris ;-Hie, make haste ;
Make haste, I say. [Exeunt, Cap. L.H.Nurse, R.H.

SCENE V.-Juliet's Chamber.

JULIET discovered on the Bed.

Enter NURSE, R.H.U.E.

Nurse. Mistress ! --What, mistress ! —-Juliet !----

Fast, I warrant her ;C
Why, lamb !-why, lady ! —Fy, 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,
That you shall rest but little.- Heaven 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 !
Ho ! my lord ! my lady !—

Enter LADY CAPULET, R.H.

La. Cap. What noise is here ?

Nurse. O lamentable day !
La. Cap. What is the matter ?
Nurse. Look !-O, heavy day !
La. Cap. O me ! O me!-my child, my only life
Revive, look up ; or I will die with thee.
Help, help !-call help.
 JULIET. 55

Enter CAPULET, R.H.

Cap. For shame, bring Juliet forth ; her lord is

come.
Nurse. She's dead, she's dead, she's dead, -alack
the day !
Cap. 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 the field.
Accursed time ! unfortunate old man !

Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS, R.H.

Lau. Come, is the bride ready to go to church ?

Cap. Ready to go, but never to return :
O son, the night before the wedding-day
Death hath embrac'd thy bride :-see, there she lies,
Flower as she was, nipp'd in the bud by him.
O, Juliet ! O, my child, my child !
Par. Have I thought long to see this morning's
face,
And doth it give me such a sight as this ?
Cap. Most miserable hour, that time ere saw
In lasting labour of his pilgrimage !
But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,
But one thing to enjoy and solace in,
And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight.
Lau. Your daughter lives in peace and happiness :
Heaven and yourself had part in this fair maid,
Now heaven hath all.
Come, stick your rosemary on this fair corse ;
And, as the custom of our country is,
Convey her where her ancestors lie tomb'd.
The heavens do lower upon you, for some ill ;
Move them not more, by crossing their high will.
(Scene closes them in.)
END OF ACT IV.
D4
56 ROMEO AND

ACT V.

SCENE I.- A Church.

Enter the PROCESSION to the Funeral of Juliet, R.H.

The Dirge.- Chorus.

Rise, rise,
Heart breaking sighs,
The woe-fraught bosom swell ;
For sighs alone,
And dismal moan,
Should echo Juliet's knell.

AIR.

She's gone, the sweetest flow'r ofMay,

That blooming blest our sight :
Those eyes, which shone like breaking day,
Are set in endless night !

CHORUS.

Rise, rise ! &c.

AIR.

She's gone, she's gone ; nor leaves behind

So fair a form, so pure a mind.
How could'st thou , Death, at once destroy
The lover's hope, the parentsjoy ?

CHORUS .

Rise, rise ! &c.

 JULIET. 57

AIR

Thou, spotless soul, look down below,

Our unfeign'd sorrow see !—
O, give us strength to bear our woe,
To bear the loss of thee !

CHORUS,

Rise, rise ! &c.

[Exeunt Omnes, L.H.

SCENE II.- Mantua .-A Street.

Enter ROMEO, L. H.

Rom. If I may trust the flattery of sleep ,

"
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand :
My bosom's lord sits lightly on 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 ;
And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips ,
That I reviv'd , and was an emperor .
Ah me ! how sweet is love itself possess'd ,
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy !

Enter BALTHASAR, L.H.

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.
Bal. Then she is well , and nothing can be ill
Her body sleeps in Capulet's monument,
And her immortal part with angels lives :
I saw her carried to her kindred's vault,
And presently took post to tell it you :
D5
58 ROMEO AND
O, pardon me for bringing these ill news.
Rom. Is it even so ? then I defy you, stars !—
Bal. My lord !
Rom . Thou know'st my lodging : get me ink and
paper,
And hire post-horses ! I will hence to-night.
Bal. Pardon me, sir, I dare not leave you thus :
Your looks are pale and wild, and do import
Some misadventure .
Rom. Go, thou art deceiv'd ;
Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do.
Hast thou no letters to me from the friar ?
Bal. No, good my lord.
Rom. No matter : get thee gone ; and hire those
horses.
[Exit Balthasar, L.H.
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,-whom 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-shap'd 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,
Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.
O, this same thought did but forerun my need !
As I remember, this should be the house :
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.
What ho ! Apothecary .
 JULIET. 59

Enter APOTHECARY, R.H.

Apo. Who calls so loud?

Rom. Come hither, man.- I see that thou art poor.
Hold, there are forty ducats ; let me have
A dram of poison ; such soon- speeding geer
As will disperse itself through all the veins,
That the life-weary taker may fall dead.
Apo. Such mortal drugs I have ; but Mantua's law
Is death, to any he that utters them.
Rom. Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness,
And fear'st to die ? Famine is in thy cheeks,
Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes,
Upon thy back hangs ragged misery :
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.
Apo. My poverty, but not my will, consents.
[Exit, R.H.
Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.

Re-enter APOTHECARY, R.H.

Apo. 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.
Rom. There is thy gold ; worse poison to men's
souls,
Doing more murder in this loathsome world,
Than these poor compounds that thou may'st not sell ;
I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none.
Farewell ; buy food, and get thyself in flesh.—
[ Exit Apothecary, R.H.
Come, cordial, and not poison ; go with me
To Juliet's grave ; for there must I use thee.
[Exit, L.H.

D6
60 ROMEO AND

SCENE II.- The Cloisters of a Convent.

Enter FRIAR JOHN, L.H.

John. Holy Franciscan friar ! brother ! hoa !

Enter FRIAR Laurence, r.h.

Lau. 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.
John. Going to find a barefoot brother out,
One ofour 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.
Lau. Who bare my letter then to Romeo ?
John. I could not send it, here it is again.
Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,
So fearful were they of infection.
Lau. 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,
Give me an iron crow, and bring it straight
Unto my cell.
John. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. [Exit, L.A.
Lau. Now must I to the monument alone :
Within these 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, clos'd in a dead man's tomb !
[Exit, R.H.

SCENE III.- Monument belonging to the Capulets .

Enter PARIS and PAGE, L.H. with a Torch, and
Basket of Flowers.
 JULIET. 61
Par. Give me thy torch, boy : hence and stand
aloof.
Yet put it out, for I would not be seen ;
Under yon yew-trees lay thee all along,
" Holding thy ear close to the hollow ground,
So shall no foot upon the church-yard 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 flow'rs. Do as I bid thee ; go.
Page. I am almost afraid to stand alone,
Here in the church-yard, yet I will adventure.
[ Exit, L.H.
Par. Sweet flow'r ! with flow'rs thy bridal bed I
strew . (Strewing flowers .)
Fair Juliet, that with angels dost remain,
Accept this latest favour at my hands,
Who living honour'd thee, and being dead,
With funeral obsequies adorn thy tomb .
(The Page whistles, L.H.)
-The boy gives warning, something doth approach
What cursed foot wanders this way to-night,
To cross my obsequies.—
What, with a torch ! Muffle me, night awhile.
(Retires, R.H.S.E. )

Enter ROMEO and BALTHASAR, with a Torch and

an Iron Crow, L.H.

Rom, Give me the wrenching iron.

Hold, take this letter ; early in the morning
See thou deliver it to my lord and father.
Put out the torch ; and on thy life I charge thee,
Whate'er thou hear'st or see'st, 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, begone :
But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry
62 ROMEO AND

In what I further shall intend to do,

By heaven I will tear thee joint by joint,
And strew this hungry church-yard with thy limbs .
The time and my intents are savage, wild ;
More fierce, and more inexorable far,
Than empty tigers, or the roaring sea.
Bal. I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you,
Rom. So shalt thou win my favour. Take thou that ;
(Gives him a Purse.)
Live and be prosp'rous ; and farewell, good fellow.
Bal. For all this same, I'll hide me near this place ;
His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. [Exit, L.H.
Rom. Thou maw detestable, thou womb of death,
Gorg'd with the dearest morsel of the earth,
Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,
(Attempting to break open the Monument )
And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food.

Re-enter PARIs , l.h.s.e.

Par. Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague.

Can vengeance be pursu'd further than death ?
Condemned villain , I do apprehend thee :
Obey, and go with me, for thou must die:
Rom. I must indeed ; and therefore came I hither
Good, gentle youth, tempt not a desp'rate man ;
Fly hence, and leave me :
By heaven I love thee better than myself;
For I came hither arm'd against myself.
Par. I do defy thy pity and thy counsel,
And do attach thee as a felon here.
Rom. Wilt thou provoke me ? then have at thee,
boy. ( They fight, PARIS falls, L.H.S.E. )
Par. Oh, I am slain ; if thou be merciful,
Open the tomb, and lay me with Juliet. (Dies.)
Rom. In faith I will . Let me peruse this face
Mercutio's kinsman ! Noble county Paris !
One writ with me in sour Misfortune's book.
I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave,
(Wrests openthe Monument.)
For here lies Juliet-Oh my love, my wife,
 JULIET . * 63
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.
Oh Juliet, why art thou yet so fair ? —Here, here,
Will I set up my everlasting rest,
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
From this world-wearied flesh.
Come, bitter conduct ; come, unsav'ry guide,
Thou desp'rate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks my sea-sick weary bark :
No more-here's to my love ! -eyes, look your last :
(Takes out the Poison, and drinks.)
you.
4 Arms, take your last embrace : and lips, do
The doors of breath seal with a righteous kiss
(Juliet wakes)-Soft-she breathes, and stirs !
Jul. Where am I ? Defend me, powers !
Rom. She speaks, she lives ; and we shall still be
bless'd !
My kind propitious stars o'erpay me now,
For all my sorrows past-Rise, rise, my Juliet,
And from this cave of death, this house of horror,
Quick let me snatch thee to thy Romeo's arms,
There breathe a vital spirit in thy lips,
And call thee back, my soul, to life and love.
(Raises her.)
Jul. Bless me ! how cold it is ! Who's there ?
Rom. Thy husband ;
"Tis thy Romeo, Juliet ; rais'd from despair
To joys unutterable ! Quit, quit this place,
And let us fly together-(Brings her from the Tomb.)
Jul. Why do you force me so--I'll ne'er consent
My strength may fail me, but my will's unmov'd
I'll not wed Paris-Romeo is my husband
Rom. Romeo is thy husband ; I am that Romeo,
Nor all the opposing powers of earth or man,
Shall break our bonds, or tear thee from my heart.
Jul. I know that voice- its magic sweetness wakes
My tranced soul- I now remember well
 64 ROMEO AND
Each circumstance-Oh my lord, my husband
(Going to embrace him .)
Dost thou avoid me, Romeo ? Let me touch
Thy hand, and taste the cordial of thy lips
You fright me- speak-oh let me hear some voice
Besides my own in this drear vault of death ,
Or I shall faint.- support me
Rom. O, I cannot ;
I have no strength ; but want thy feeble aid.—
Cruel poison !
Jul. Poison ! what means my lord ? thy trembling
voice,
Pale lips, and swimming eyes,-Death's in thy face.
Rom. It is indeed, -I struggle with him now ;
The transports that I felt,
To hear thee speak, and see thy opening eyes,
Stopp'd, for a moment, his impetuous course,
And all my mind was happiness and thee ;
But now the poison rushes through my veins ;
I have not time to tell,
Fate brought me to this place, to take a last,
Last farewell of my love, and with thee die.
Jul. Die ? -Was the friar false ?
Rom. I know not that.—
I thought thee dead ; distracted at the sight,
O fatal speed !-drank poison,-kiss'd thy lips,
And found within thy arms a precious grave :
But, in that moment, -O !
Jul. And did I wake for this !
Rom. My powers are blasted ;
"Twixt death and love I'm torn, I am distracted ;
But death's strongest ; -And must I leave thee,
Juliet !
O, cruel, cursed fate ! in sight of heaven,
Jul. Thou rav'st ; lean on my breast.
Rom. Fathers have flinty hearts, no tears can melt
' em ;
Nature pleads in vain ;-Children must be wretched .
Jul. O, my breaking heart !
Rom. She is my wife, -our hearts are twin'd to
gether,
 JULIET. 65

Capulet, forbear ;-Paris, loose your hold ;

Pull not our heart -strings thus ;-they crack,-they
1 break,
O, Juliet Juliet ! (Dies.)
(Juliet faints on Romeo's body.)

Enter FRIAR LAURENCE, with a Lantern and an iron

Crow, R.H.

Lau. Saint Francis be my speed ! how oft to-night

Have my old feet stumbled at graves ! Who's there ? --
Alack, alack ! what blood is this which stains
The stony entrance of this sepulchre ?
Jul. Who's there ?
Lau. Ha! Juliet awake !—and Romeo dead !
And Paris too ! -O, what an unkind hour
Is guilty of this lamentable chance !
Jul. Here he is still, and I will hold him fast ;
They shall not tear him from me.
Lau. Patience, lady !
Jul. O, thou cursed friar ! Patience !
Talk'st thou of patience to a wretch like me ?
Lau. O fatal error ! -Rise, thou fair distress'd,
And fly this scene of death,
Jul. Come thou not near me ;
Or this dagger shall quit my Romeo's death.
(Draws a dagger.)
Lau. I wonder not, thy griefs have made thee
desp❜rate.
Voices without. (R.H.) Follow, follow,
Lau. What noise without ?-- Sweet Juliet, let us fly;
A greater power than we can contradict,
Hath thwarted our intents ; Come haste away;
I will dispose thee, most unhappy lady,
Amongst a sisterhood of holy nuns.
Voices without. ( R.H.) Which way ? which way ?
Lau. Stay not to question ; for the watch is coming ;
Come ; go, good Juliet.-I dare not longer stay.
[Exit, L.H.
66 ROMEO AND
Jul. Go, get thee hence ; for I will not away.
What's here ? a phial !-Romeo's timeless end.
O, churl ! drink all ; and leave no friendly drop
To help me after ?—I will kiss thy lips ;
Haply, some poison yet doth hang on them.
Voices without, ( R.H. ) Lead, boy : -Which way
Jul. Noise again !
Then I'll be brief. -O, happy dagger !
(Stabs herself. )
This is thy sheath ; —there rest,—and let me die.
(Dies.)

Enter BALTHASAR and the Page guarded,—the

Prince, and Attendants with Torches, R.H.

Bal. This is the place, my liege .

Prince. What misadventure is so early up,
That calls our person from its morning's rest ?

Enter CAPULET, and Gentlemen, R.H.

Cap. What should it be, that they so shriek

abroad ?
The people in the street cry- Romeo ;
Some,-Juliet ; and some,-Paris : and all run
With open outcry tow'rds our monument .
Prince. What fear is this, which startles in your
ears ?
Bal. Sovereign, here lies the county Paris slain ;
My master Romeo dead ; -and Juliet,
Thought dead before, appears but newly kill'd .
Cap. O me ! this sight of death is as a bell,
That warns my old age to a sepulchre.

Enter MONTAGUE, and Gentlemen, L.H.

Prince. Come, Montague ; for thou art early up,

To see thy son and heir now early fallen ,
Mon. Alas, my liege , my wife is dead to- night !
The exile of my son hath stop'd her breath :
What further woe conspires against my age ?
 JULIET. 67

Prince. Look there, and see.

Mon. 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 and head ; meantime forbear,
And let mischance be slave to patience.—
Bring forth the parties of suspicion.

Enter FRIAR LAURENCE, L.H.

Lau. I am the greatest.

Prince. Then, say at once what thou dost know in
this.
Lau: Let us retire from this dread scene of death,
And I'll unfold the whole ; if aught in this
Miscarried by my fault, let my old life
Be sacrific'd, some hour before its time,
Unto the rigour of severest law.
Prince. We still have known thee for a holy man.
Let Romeo's man, and let the boy attend us ;
We'll hence, and further scan these sad disasters.
Well may you mourn, my lords, now wise too late,
These tragic issues of your mutual hate .
From private feuds what dire misfortunes flow !
Whate'er the cause, the sure effect is woe.

Disposition of the Characters when the curtainfalls.

G
PAR E
E T RO ME O. IS . NT
L I L
JU . NCE MON. BEA
ET

PRI
CA EN

. ML
E
UL

.N
EM

PA
. P
TL

GE
.

Finis .

R.H. CURTAIN. L.H.

 PROLOGUE.

Two households, both alike in dignity,

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
'Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life ;
Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows
Do, with their death, bury their parents' strife.
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,
And the continuance of their parents' rage,
Which, but their children's end nought could remove,
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage ;
The which, if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.

W. OXBERRY, PRINTER,
8, WHITE HART YARD, LONDON.
 ។
3

Orberry's Edition.

JANE SHORE.

TRAGEDY ;

By Nicholas Rowe.

WITH PREFATORY REMARKS.

THE ONLY EDITION EXISTING WHICH IS FAITHFULLY MARKED

WITH THE STAGE BUSINESS, AND STAGE DIRECTIONS,

AS IT IS PERFORMED AT THE

Theatres Koyal.

BY W. OXBERRY, Comedian.

London.

PUBLISHED FOR THE PROPRIETORS, BY W. SIMPKIN, AND

R. MARSHALL, STATIONERS' COURT, LUDGATE-STREET ;
AND C. CHAPPLE, 66, PALL-MALL

1819.
From the Press of W. Oxberry and Co.
8, White-Hart Yard.
 Remarks .

JANE SHORE .

It is a rare felicity in any author to produce two tragedies which

shall last their century. Rowe, the author of the Fair Penitent,
and of Jane Shore, has attained this posthumous honour. It is
curious to reflect in this respect on the disproportion between hu
man wishes and their accomplishment. The aspiration of the
mind is after the highest excellence, its longings are after immor
tality : its performance is generally as nothing ; its triumph but
for a moment !-How many matchless works have perished in
embryo, even with the thought that gave them birth ?-how many
have fallen still-born from the press ?-how many have been
damned on their first appearance, " a sacrifice to grinning scorn
and infamy ? "-how many have lingered on a few nights , and then
dropped into deathless oblivion, mocking their authors' feverish
hopes ?-how many have been popular for a time, and then given
place to others ?-how few have remained , what all were designed
to be ?-heirs of universal praise, and the lasting ornament and
delight of the public mind ! -There are, it should seem, but two
ways in which an author can hope to acquire this permanent re
putation and influence, over the thoughts and feelings of others ;
either by the force and originality of his own conceptions, or by
the warmth and vigour with which he enters into, and is able to
express popular and obvious sentiments. The last of these appears
to have been theforte of Rowe, in his tragic compositions ; and is
that which has given them so considerable and fixed a hold, over
the minds of his countrymen. In writing for the stage, he does
not seem to consult his own breast, or to consider what the parties
themselves would have felt ; but to give language to the thoughts
that would be suggested on such an occasion, to the spectators.
 ii

His great object is stage-effect, and common sympathy ; and this

he secures,-first, by the selection of a well-known, or perfectly
intelligible story,-by striking situations and obvious sources of
calamity ; and, secondly, by ingrafting on the tragic spectacle fre
quent and vehement exclamations of grief, -of wonder, of horror,
&c.; and general reflections of morality, such as are the offspring
rather of speculative indifference, than of real passion . If to
unlock and control the deeper and more powerful springs of thought
and feeling is the highest proof of genius, yet to obtain the almost
unlimited command over the more vulgar and superficial sympathy
which is excited by well-placed shew and verbal declamation , is no
mean nor easy task ; as may be seen, from the few who succeed in
doing it with continued success. Jane Shore is a tragedy, the repu
tation of which is embalmed in the tears it has drawn from num
berless eyes. The aggravated distress of the heroine, her reverse
of fortune, her unmerited ill treatment by those she trusts, the
attachment of her husband to her, (the motives of which we could
only respect in her peculiar circumstances,) her boasted beauty of
form, and her apparent patience and resignation of temper, cer
tainly make an appeal to the affections which is not easily resisted.
Alicia is not a very pleasant, though a very probable character ; and
would hardly be endured in the virulence of her actions, and the
extravagance of her speeches ; but that she meets with a triumphant
foil in her more amiable, but not more fortunate friend. The mer
cenary generosity of Hastings, which is turned into sudden hatred
on his meeting with an unexpected repulse to his amorous over
tares, is well understood, and distinctly pourtrayed. Gloster is a
character of considerable stateliness of deportment, and energy
of purpose ; and would have a better effect, did we not compare
it indirectly with the same character in Shakspeare. The incident
of his coming into the council-chamber with his bared arm, and
accusing Hastings of withering it up by sorcery, is literally taken
from Shakspeare ; but luckily for Rowe, Cibber has left out this
striking scene, in his alteration of Richard the Third. The language
of Rowe, is often modelled on that of his great predecessor ; and
is sometimes, even borrowed from Scripture :-so willing was
our author to avail himself of any resources within his reach .
His verse is smooth and equal, if not flowing or mellifluous ;
 iii

and is raised above prose, if it is not elevated into the highest

strain of poetry. Perhaps, the chief character in this play has
never been so well represented, as it was by Mrs. Siddons ; and
indeed, it requires the highest dignity of the human form and
expression, to reconcile us completely to the exhibition of the last
calamity of human nature,-the failure of life from the want of its
common sustenance. W. H.
Mr. Nicholas Rowe was born at Little Beckford, in Bedfordshire,
in 1673 ; he was first sent to a private school at Highgate ; and, be
ing afterwards removed to Westminster, was at twelve years chosen
one ofthe King's scholars. At sixteen he was entered a student of
the Middle Temple. When he was nineteen , he was, by the death
of his father, left more to his own direction, and probably from
that time suffered law gradually to give way to poetry. At twenty
five he produced the " Ambitious Step-mother ; " which was re
ceived with so much favour, that he devoted himself from that time
wholly to elegant literature. He was willing enough to improve
his fortune by other arts than poetry. He was Under- Secretary for
three years when the duke of Queensberry was Secretary of State :
and afterwards applied to the Earl of Oxford for some public em
ployment. Oxford enjoined him to study Spanish ; and when,
some time afterwards he came again, and said that he had mastered
it, dismissed him with this congratulation , " Then, sir, I envy
you the pleasure of reading Don Quixote in the original." At the
accession of King George he was made Poet-laureat. In person he
was graceful and well made , his face regular and of manly beauty.
He was master of most parts of polite learning, especially the clas
sical authors, both Greek and Latin ; understood the French, Italian
and Spanish Languages, and spoke the first fluently, and the others
tolerably well. He was twice married ;-first to the daughter of a
Mr. Parsons, one of the Auditors of the Revenue ; and afterwards
to a daughter of a Mr. Devenish, of a good family in Dorsetshire.
By the first he had a son, and by the second a daughter. He died
the sixth of December, 1718 , in the forty-fifth year of his age, and
was buried in Westminster Abbey :-His Dramatic Works are ;
The Ambitious Step Mother, T.-Tamerlane, T.-Fair Penitent,
T.-The Biter, C.- Ulysses, T.-Royal Convert, T.- Jane Shore,
T -and Lady Jane Grey, T.
 Time of Representation.

The time this piece takes in representation, is two hours and

thirty minutes. The first act occupies the space of thirty minutes ;
-the second, thirty-five ;-the third, twenty ;-the fourth, thirty
five ; the fifth, thirty. The half price commences , generally, at
about a quarter before nine.

Stage Directions .
By R.H... is meant.. ·· Right Hand.
L.H .. Left Hand.
S.E.. Second Entrance.
U.E... Upper Entrance.
M.D.. Middle Door.
D.F...... .Door in flat.
R.H.D .... Right Hand Door.
L.H.D.... Left Hand Door.
 PROLOGUE.

To-night, if you have brought your good old taste,

We'll treat you with a downright English feast :
A tale, which, told long since in homely wise,
Hath never fail'd of melting gentle eyes.
Let no nice sir despise our hapless dame,
Because recording ballads chaunt her name ;
Those venerable ancient song- enditers
Soar'd many a pitch above our modern writers :
They caterwaul'd in no romantic ditty,
Sighing for Phillis' , or Chloe's pity.
Justly they drew the fair, and spoke her plain,
And sung her by her christian name-'twas Jane.
Our numbers may be mere refin'd than those ,
But what we've gain'd in verse, we've lost in prose.
Their words no shuffling, double-meaning knew,
Their speech was homely, but their hearts were true.
In such an age, immortal Shakspeare wrote,
By no quaint rules , nor hampering critics taught ;
With rough majestic force he mov'd the heart,
And strength and nature made amends for art.
Our humble author does his steps pursue,
He owns he had the mighty bard in view ;
And in these scenes has made it more his care,
To rouse the passions, than to charm the ear.
Yet for those gentle beaux who love the chime,
The end of acts still gingie into rhyme.
The ladies, too , he hopes will not complain,
Here are some subjects for a softer strain,
A nymph forsaken, and a perjur'd swain. }
What most he fears, is, lest the dames should frown,
The dames of wit and pleasure about town
To see our picture drawn , unlike their own.
But lest that error should provoke to fury
The hospitable hundreds of Old Drury,
 PROLOGUE.

He bid me say, in our Jane Shore's defence,

She dol'd about the charitable pence,
Built hospitals, turn'd saint, and dy'd long sinee. }
For her example, whatsoe'er we make it,
They have their choice to let alone or take it.
Though few, as I conceive, will think it meet,
To weep so sorely for a sin so sweet :
Or mourn and mortify the pleasant sense,
To rise in tragedy two ages hence.
 Costume.

LORD HASTINGS. *
Blue doublet, trunks, and cloak, trimmed with gold, black vel
vet hat, and white feathers.

DUKE OF GLOSTER.
A purple velvet doublet and trunks, crimson velvet robe, richly
embroidered.

BELMOUR .
Grey dress trimmed with black.

RATCLIFFE.
Buff doublet and trunks, scarlet cloak, embroidered with silver.

CATESBY:
Light blue doublet and trunks, and cloak trimmed with silver.

SHORE.
First dress.- Slate coloured kerseymere.- Second dress.-Black
velvet.

JANE SHORE.
First dress.-Grey satin Old English dress trimmed with point
lace, and lined with black.- Second dress.- White muslin.

ALICIA.
First dress. White satin, trimmed with beads and point lace.
-Second dress.-Black velvet, and black crape veil.
 Persons Represented.

As it was originally acted, 1713.

Lord Hastings Mr. Booth.
Duke of Gloster Mr. Cibber.
Belmour Mr. Mills.
Sir Richard Ratcliffe Mr. Bowman .
Sir William Catesby Mr. Husband.
Shore ..... Mr. Wilkes ,
Jane Shore Mrs. Oldfield,
Alicia... Mrs. Porter.

Drury lane. Covent-garden.

Lord Hastings Mr. Rae. Mr. Young.
Duke of Gloster Mr. Bengough. Mr. Egerton.
Belmour Mr. Hamblin. Mr. Claremont,
Sir Richard Ratcliffe.. Mr. Marshall, Mr. Treby.
Sir William Catesby ..... Mr. Ley. Mr. Connor .
Shore .... Mr. Holland. Mr. Macready.
Jane Shore Mrs. W, West . Miss O'Neill.
Alicia.. Mrs. Glover. Mrs. Bunn .

Lords of the Council, &c.

 JANE SHORE.

ACT I.

SCENE I - The Tower.

Enter the DUKE of GLOSTER, SIR RICHARD

RATCLIFFE, and CATESBY, R.H.

Glos. Thus far success attends upon our councils,

And each event has answered to my wish ;
The queen and all her upstart race are quell'd ;
Dorset is banish'd , and her brother Rivers,
Ere this, lies shorter by the head at Pomfret.
The nobles have with joint concurrence, nam'd me
Protector of the realm ; my brother's children,
Young Edward and the little York are lodg'd
Here, safe within the Tower. How say you, sirs,
Does not this business wear a lucky face ?
The sceptre and the golden wreath of royalty
Seem hung within my reach.
Sir R. Then take ' em to you,
And wear them long and worthily : you are
The last remaining male of princely York;
(For Edward's boys, the state esteems not of ' em,)
And therefore on your sov'reignty and rule
B
12 JANE SHORE.
The commonweal does her dependence make,
And leans upon your highness' able hand.
Cates. And yet to-morrow does the council meet
To fix a day for Edward's coronation:
Who can expound this riddle ?
Glos. That can I.
Those lords are each one my approv'd good friends,
Of special trust and nearness to my bosom :
And howsoever busy they may seem ,
And diligent to bustle in the state,
Their zeal goes on no further than we lead,
And at our bidding stays.
Cates. Yet there is one,
And he amongst the foremost in his power
Of whom I wish your highness were assur'd.
For me, perhaps it is my nature's fault,
I own I doubt of his inclining much.
Glos. I guess the man at whom your words would
point:
Hastings
Cates. The same.
Glos. He bears me great good will .
Cates. "Tis true, to you, as to the lord protector,
And Gloster's duke, he bows with lowly service :
But were he bid to cry, God save king Richard,
Then tell me in what terms he would reply.
Believe me, I have prov'd the man, and found him :
I know he bears a most religious reverence
To his dead master Edward's royal memory.
And whither that may lead him, is most plain.
Yet more-One of that stubborn sort he is,
Who, if they once grow fond of an opinion,
They call it honour, honesty, and faith,
And sooner part with life than let it go.
Glos. And yet this tough, impracticable heart,
Is govern'd by a dainty-finger'd girl ;
Such flaws are found in the most worthy natures;
A laughing, toying, wheedling, whimpering she
Shall make him amble on a gossip's message,
 JANE SHORE. 13

And take the distaff with a hand as patient

As e'er did Hercules .
Sir R. The fair Alicia,
Of noble birth and exquisite of feature,
Has held him long a vassal to her beauty.
Cates. I fear he fails in his allegiance there ;
Or my intelligence is false, or else
The dame has been too lavish of her feast,
And fed him till he loathes .
Glos. No more, he comes ,

Enter LORD HASTINGS, L.H.

Has. Health, and the happiness of many days,

Attend upon your grace.
Glos. My good lord Chamberlain,
We're much beholden to your gentle friendship.
Has. My lord, I come an humble suitor to you.
Glos. In right good time . Speak out your pleasure
freely.
Has. I amto move your highness in behalf
Of Shore's unhappy wife.
Glos. Say you, of Shore ?
Has. Once a bright star, that held her place on high:
The first and fairest of our English dames,
While Royal Edward held the sov'reign rule.
Now sunk in grief, and pining with despair,
Her waning form no longer shall incite
Envy in woman, or desire in man .
She never sees the sun, but through her tears,
And wakes to sigh the live-long night away.
Glos. Marry ! the times are badly chang'd with her,
From Edward's days to these. Then all was jollity,
Feasting and mirth, light wantonness and laughter,
Piping and playing, minstrelsy and masking ;
'Till life fled from us like an idle dream ,
A show of mummery without a meaning.
My brother rest and pardon to his soul,
Is gone to his account ; for this his minion,
The revel-rout is done- But you were speaking
14 JANE SHORE .
Concerning her-I have been told, that you
Are frequent in your visitation to her.
Has. No further, my good lord, than friendly pity,
And tender-hearted charity allow.
Glos. Go to : I did not mean to chide you for it.
For, sooth to say, I hold it noble in you
To cherish the distress'd- On with your tale.
Has, Thus it is gracious sir, that certain officers,
Using the warrant of your mighty name,
With insolence unjust, and lawless power,
Have seiz'd upon the lands, which late she held
By grant , from her great master Edward's bounty.
Glos. Somewhat of this, but slightly have I heard ;
And though some counsellors of forward zeal,
Some of most ceremonious sanctity,
And bearded wisdom, often have provok'd
The hand ofjustice to fall heavy on her ;
Yet still, in kind compassion of her weakness ,
And tender memory of Edward's love,
I have withheld the merciless stern law
From doing outrage on her helpless beauty.
Has. Good heav'n , who renders mercy back for
mercy,
With open-handed bounty shall repay you :
This gentle deed shall fairly be set foremost,
To screen the wild escapes of lawless passion
And the long train of frailties flesh is heir to.
Glos. Thus far, the voice of pity pleaded only :
Our further and more full extent of grace
Is given to your request. Let her attend,
And to ourself deliver up her griefs.
She shall be heard with patience, and each wrong
At full redress'd. But I have other news,
Which much import us both ; for still my fortunes
Go hand in hand with yours our common foes,
The queen's relations, our new-fangled gentry,
Have fall'n their haughty crests-that for your privacy.
[Exeunt, R.H.
 JANE SHORE. 15

SCENE II, -An apartment in Jane Shore's House.

Enter BELMOUR, and DUMONT, L.H.

Bel. How she has lived you have heard my tale

already ;
The rest your own attendance in her family,
Where I have found the means this day to place you ,
And nearer observation, best will tell you.
See with what sad and sober cheer she comes.

Enter JANE SHORE , R.H.

Sure, or I read her visage much amiss,

Or grief besets her hard. Save you, fair lady,
The blessings of the cheerful morn be on you,
And greet your beauty with its opening sweets.
Jane S. My gentle neighbour ! your good wishes
still
Pursue my hapless fortunes ; ah ! good Belmour !
Howfew, like thee, inquire the wretched out,
And court the offices of soft humanity.
Like thee reserve their raiment for the naked,
Reach out their bread to feed the crying orphan,
Or mix their pitying tears with those that weep .
Thy praise deserves a better tongue than mine,
To speak and bless thy name. Is this the gentleman ,
Whose friendly service you commended to me ?
Bel. Madam, it is !
Jane S. A venerable aspect ! (Aside.)
Age sits with decent grace upon his visage,
And worthily becomes his silver locks ;
He wears the marks of many years well spent,
Of virtue, truth well try'd, and wise experience ;
A friend like this would suit my sorrows well.
(Crosses to Centre.)
Fortune, I fear me, sir, has meant you ill, (To Dum.)
Who pay your merit with that scanty pittance,
Which my poor hand and humble roof can give.
16 JANE SHORE.

But to supply those golden vantages,

Which elsewhere you might find, expect to meet
A just regard and value for your worth,
The welcome of a friend, and the free partnership
Of all that little good the world allows me.
Dum. You over-rate me much ; and all my answer
Must be my future truth ; let that speak for me,
And make up my deserving.
Jane S. Are you of England ?
Dum. No, gracious lady, Flanders claims my birth :
At Antwerp has my constant biding been,
Where sometimes I have known more plenteous days.
Than these which now my failing age affords.
Jane S. Alas ! at Antwerp ! O forgive my tears !
(Weeping .)
They fall for my offences -and must fall
Long, long ere they shall wash my stains away.
You knew perhaps- O grief ! O shame ! —my husband .
Dum. I knew him well- but stay this flood of
anguish.
The senseless grave feels not your pious sorrows :
Three years and more are past, since I was bid,
With many of our common friends , to wait him
To his last peaceful mansion . I attended,
Sprinkled his clay- cold corse with holy drops,
According to our church's rev'rend rite,
And saw him laid, in hallow'd ground, to rest.
Jane S. Oh that my soul had known no joy but him !
That I had liv'd within his guiltless arms,
And dying slept in innocence beside him !
But now his honest dust abhors the fellowship,
And scorns to mix with mine .

Enter a SERVANT, L.H.

Ser. The lady Alicia

Attends your leisure.
Jane S. Say I wish to see her. [Exit Servant, L.H.
Please, gentle sir, one moment to retire,
I'll wait you on the instant, and inform you
 JANE SHORE. 17
Of each unhappy circumstance, in which
Your friendly aid and counsel much may stead me.
[Bel. and Dum, cross and exeunt, R.H.

Enter ALICIA, L.H.

Alic. Still my fair friend, still shall I find you thus?

Still shall these sighs heave after one another,
These trickling drops chase one another still,
As if the posting messengers of grief
Could overtake the hours fled far away,
And make old time come back ?
Jane S. No, my Alicia,
Heaven and his saints be witness to my thoughts,
There is no hour of all my life o'er past,
That I could wish should take its turn again .
Alic. And yet some of those days my friend has
known,
Some of those years might pass for golden ones,
At least if womankind can judge of happiness .
What could we wish, we who delight in empire,
Whose beauty is our sov'reign good, and gives us,
Our reasons to rebel, and pow'r to reign,
What could we more than to behold a monarch,
Lovely, renown'd, a conqueror, and young,
Bound in our chains, and sighing at our feet ?
Jane S. 'Tis true, the royal Edward was a wonder,
The goodly pride of all our English youth ;
He was the very joy of all that saw him .
Form'd to delight, to love, and to persuade .
But what had I to do with kings and courts ?
My humble lot had cast me far beneath him ;
And that he was the first of all mankind,
The bravest, and most lovely was my curse.
Alic. Sure something more than fortune join'd your
loves :
Nor could his greatness, and his gracious form,
Be elsewhere match'd so well, as to the sweetness
And beauty of my friend.
Jane S. Name him no more :
He was the bane and ruin of my peace.
18 JANE SHORE .
This anguish, and these tears, these are the legacies
His fatal love has left me. Thou wilt see me ,
Believe me, my Alicia, thou wilt see me,
Ere yet a few short days pass o'er my head,
Abandon'd to the very utmost wretchedness.
The hand of pow'r has seiz'd almost the whole
Of what was left for needy life's support ;
Shortly thou wilt behold me poor, and kneeling
Before thy charitable door for bread.
Alic. Joy of my life, my dearest Shore, forbear
To wound my heart with thy foreboding sorrows :
Raise thy sad soul to better hopes than these,
Lift up thy eyes, and let them shine once more,
Bright as the morning sun above the mist.
Exert thy charms, seek out the stern protector,
And sooth his savage temper with thy beauty ;
Spite of his deadly, unrelenting nature ,
He shall be mov'd to pity, and redress thee.
Jane S. My form, alas ! has long forgot to please !
The scene of beauty and delight is chang'd ;
No roses bloom upon my fading cheek,
Nor laughing graces wanton in my eyes ;
But haggard grief, lean- looking , sallow care ,
And pining discontent, a rueful train ,
Dwell on my brow, all hideous and forlorn ;
One only shadow of a hope is left me ;
The noble-minded Hastings, of his goodness,
Has kindly underta'en to be my advocate,
And move my humble suit to angry Gloster.
Alic. Does Hastings undertake to plead your cause ?
But wherefore should he not ? Hastings has eyes :
The gentle lord has a right tender heart,
Melting and easy, yielding to impression ,
And catching the soft flame from each new beauty;
But yours shall charm him long.
Jane S. Away, you flatterer ! (Crosses to R.H.)
Nor charge his gen'rous meaning with a weakness,
Which his great soul and virtue must disdain .
Too much of love thy hapless friend has prov'd,
Too many giddy, foolish hours are gone,
 JANE SHORE. 19
And in fantastic measures danc'd away :
May the remaining few know only friendship,
So thou, my dearest, truest, best Alicia,
Vouchsafe to lodge me in thy gentle heart,
A partner there ; I will give up mankind,
Forget the transports of increasing passion,
And all the pangs we feel for its decay.
Alic. Live ! live and reign for ever in my bosom ;
(Embracing.)
Safe and unrivall'd there possess thy own ;
And you, the brightest of the stars above,
Ye saints that once were women here below ,
Be witness of the truth , the holy friendship,
Which here to this my other self I vow.
If I not hold her nearer to my soul,
Than every other joy the world can give,
Let poverty, deformity, and shame,
Distraction and despair seize me on earth,
Let not my faithless ghost have peace hereafter,
Nor taste the bliss of your celestial fellowship.
Jane S. Yes, thou art true, and only thou art true ;
Therefore these jewels, once the lavish bounty
Of royal Edward's love, I trust to thee ; 1
(Giving a Casket.)
Receive this, all that I can call my own,
And let it rest unknown, and safe with thee :
That if the state's injustice should oppress me,
Strip me of all, and turn me out a wanderer,
My wretchedness may find relief from thee,
And shelter from the storm .
Alic. My all is thine ;
One common hazard shall attend us both,
And both be fortunate, or both be wretched.
But let thy fearful doubting heart be still ;
The saints and angels have thee in their charge,
And all things shall be well. Think not, the good,
The gentle deeds of mercy thou hast done,
Shall die forgotten all ; the poor, the pris'ner,
The fatherless, the friendless, and the widow,
Who daily own the bounty of thy hand,
20 JANE SHORE.
Shall cry to heav'n, and pull a blessing on thee.
Ev'n man, the merciless insulter man,
Man, who rejoices in our sex's weakness,
Shall pity thee, and with unwonted goodness,
Forget thy failings, and record thy praise.
Jane S. Why should I think that man will do for
me,
What yet he never did for wretches like me ?
Mark by what partial justice we are judg'd ;
Such is the fate unhappy women find,
And such the curse entail'd upon our kind,
That man, the lawless libertine, may rove,
Free and unquestion'd through the wilds of love ;
While woman, sense and nature's easy fool,
If poor, weak woman swerve from virtue's rule ;
If, strongly charm'd, she leave the thorny way,
And in the softer paths of pleasure stray,
Ruin ensues, reproach and endless shame,
And one false step entirely damns her fame ;
(Crosses to R.H.)
In vain with tears the loss she may deplore ,
In vain look back on what she was before ;
She sets, like stars that fall, to rise no more.
[Exeunt, R.H.

END OF ACT I.

ACT II.

SCENE I.- An Apartment in Jane Shore's House.

Enter ALICIA, R.H.

The drowsy night grows on the world, and now

The busy craftsmen and the o'er-labour'd hind
Forget the travail of the day in sleep :
Care only wakes, and moping pensiveness ;
 JANE SHORE. 21
With meagre discontented looks they sit,
And watch the wasting of the midnight taper.
Such vigils must I keep, so wakes my soul,
Restless and self-tormented ! O false Hastings !
Thou hast destroy'd my peace .
(Knocking without, L.H. )
What noise is that?
What visitor is this, who with bold freedom ,
Breaks in upon the peaceful night and rest,
With such a rude approach ?

Enter a SERVANT, L.H.

Serv. One from the court.

Lord Hastings (as I think), demands my lady.
[Crosses behind, and Exit, R.H.
Alic. Hastings ! Be still, my heart, and try to meet
him,
With his own arts ! with falsehood- But he comes .

Enter LORD HASTINGS, speaking to a Servant as

entering, L.H.

Has. Dismiss my train, and wait alone without.

Alicia here! Unfortunate encounter
But be it as it may.
Alic. When humbly, thus,
The great descend to visit the afflicted,
When thus, unmindful of their rest, they come
To sooth the sorrows of the midnight mourner,
Comfort comes with them ; like the golden sun,
Dispels the sullen shades with her sweet influence,
And cheers the melancholy house of care.
Has. 'Tis true I would not over- rate a courtesy,
Nor let the coldness of delay hang on it,
To nip and blast its favour, like a frost ;
But rather chose, at this late hour, to come,
That your fair friend may know I have prevail'd ;
The lord protector has receiv'd her suit,
And means to show her grace.
22 JANE SHORE .
Alic. My friend ! my lord.
Has. Yes, lady, yours ; none has a right more
ample
To task my pow'r than you.
Alic. I want the words,
To pay you back a compliment so courtly ;
But my heart guesses at the friendly meaning,
And wou'dn't die your debtor.
Has. 'Tis well, madam .
But I would see your friend .
Alic. O thou false lord !
I would be mistress of my heaving heart,
Stifle this rising rage, and learn from thee
To dress my face in easy, dull indiff'rence ;
But ' twou'dn't be ; my wrongs will tear their way,
And rush at once upon thee. (Crosses to L.H.)
Has. Are you wise ?
Have you the use of reason ? Do you wake ?
What means this raving, this transporting passion ?
Alic. O thou cool traitor ! thou insulting tyrant !
Dost thou behold my poor, distracted heart,
Thus rent with agonizing love and rage,
And ask me what it means ? Art thou not false ?
Am I not scorn'd, forsaken, and abandon'd ;
Left, like a common wretch, to shame and infamy ;
Giv'n up to be the sport of villains' tongues,
Of laughing parasites, and lewd buffoons ?
And all because my soul has doated on thee
With love, with truth, and tenderness unutterable !
Has. Are these the proofs of tenderness and love ?
These endless quarrels, discontents, and jealousies,
These never-ceasing wailings and complainings,
These furious starts, these whirlwinds of the soul,
Which every other moment rise to madness ?
Alic. What proof, alas ! have I not giv'n of love ?
What have I not abandon'd to thy arms ?
Have I not set at nought my noble birth,
A spotless fame, and an unblemish'd race,
The peace of innocence, and pride of virtue ?
My prodigality has giv'n thee all ;
 JANE SHORE . 23
And now, I've nothing left me to bestow,
You hate the wretched bankrupt you have made.
(Crosses to R.H. )
Has. Why am I thus pursu'd from place to place,
Kept in the view, and cross'd at ev'ry turn ?
In vain I fly, and, like a hunted deer,
Scud o'er the lawns, and hasten to the covert ;
E'er 1 can reach my safety, you o'ertake me
With the swift malice of some keen reproach,
And drive the winged shaft deep in my heart.
Alic, Hither you fly, and here you seek repose ;
Spite of the poor deceit, your arts are known ,
Your pious, charitable, midnight visits .
Has. If you are wise, and prize your peace of mind,
Yet take the friendly counsel of my love ;
Believe me true, nor listen to your jealousy.
Let not that devil, which undoes your sex,
That cursed curiosity seduce you,
To hunt for needless secrets, which, neglected,
Shall never hurt your quiet ; but once known,
Shall sit upon your heart, pinch it with pain,
And banish the sweet sleep for ever from you.
Go to- be yet advis'd
Alic. Dost thou in scorn
Preach patience to my rage, and bid me tamely
Sit like a poor, contented idiot down,
Nor dare to think thou'st wrong'd me ? Ruin seize
thee,
And swift perdition overtake thy treachery.
Have I the least remaining cause to doubt ?
Hast thou endeavour'd once to hide thy falsehood ?
To hide it might have spoke some little tenderness,
And shown thee half unwilling to undo me :
But thou disdain'st the weakness of humanity.
Thy words, and all thy actions, have confess'd it ;
Ev'n now thy eyes avow it, now they speak,
And insolently own the glorious villany.
Has. Well then, I own my heart has broke your
chains .
Patient I bore the painful bondage long,
1
 24 JANE SHORE .

At length my gen'rous love disdains your tyranny ;

The bitterness and stings of taunting jealousy ,
Vexatious days, and jarring, joyless nights,
Have driv'n him forth to seek some safer shelter,
Where he may rest his weary wings in peace.
Alic. You triumph ! do ! and with gigantic pride
Defy impending vengeance. Heav'n shall wink ;
No more his arm shall roll the dreadful thunder,
Nor send his lightnings forth : no more his justice
Shallvisit the presuming sons of men,
But perjury, like thine, shall dwell in safety,
Has. Whate'er my fate decrees for me hereafter,
Be present to me now, my better angel !
Preserve me from the storm that threatens now,
And if I have beyond atonement sinn'd,
Let any other kind of plague o'ertake me,
So I escape the fury of that tongue.
Alic. Thy prayer is heard-I go ( Crosses to L.H. )
-but know, proud lord,
Howe'er thou scorn'st the weakness of my sex,
This feeble hand may find the means to reach thee,
Howe'er sublime in pow'r and greatness plac'd,
With royal favour guarded round and grac'd ;
On eagle's wings my rage shall urge her flight,
And hurl thee headlong from thy topmast height ;
Then, like thy fate, superior will I sit,
And view thee fall'n , and grov'ling at my feet ;
See thy last breath with indignation go,
And tread thee sinking to the shades below.
[ Exit, L.A.
Has. How fierce a fiend is passion ! With what
wildness,
What tyranny untam'd it reigns in woman !
Unhappy sex ! whose easy, yielding temper
Gives way to ev'ry appetite alike :
And love in their weak bosoms is a rage
As terrible as hate, and as destructive.
But soft ye now-for here comes one, disclaims
Strife and her wrangling train ; of equal elements,
 JANE SHORE. 25

Without one jarring atom was she form'd,

And gentleness and joy make up her being.

Enter JANE SHORE , R.H.

Forgive me, fair one, if officious friendship

Intrudes on your repose, and comes thus late
To greet you with the tidings of success .
The princely Gloster has vouchsaf'd your hearing,
To-morrow he expects you at the court ;
There plead your cause, with never-failing beauty,
Speak all your griefs, and find a full redress.
Jane S. Thus humbly let your lowly servant bend.
(Kneeling.)
Thus let me bow my grateful knee to earth,
And bless your noble nature for this goodness :
Has. Rise, gentle dame, you wrong my meaning
much,
Think me not guilty of a thought so vain,
To sell my courtesy for thanks like these.
Jane S. 'Tis true, your bounty is beyond my
speaking :
But though my mouth be dumb, my heart shall thank
you ;
And when it melts before the throne of mercy,
Mourning and bleeding for my past offences,
My fervent soul shall breathe one pray'r for you,
That heav'n will pay you back, when most you need,
The grace and goodness you have shown to me.
Has . Ifthere be aught of merit in my service,
Impute it there, where most 'tis due,-to love ;
Be kind, my gentle mistress, to my wishes,
And satisfy my panting heart with beauty.
Jane S. Alas ! my lord
Has. Why bend thy eyes to earth ?
Wherefore these looks of heaviness and sorrow ?
Why breathes that sigh, my love ? And wherefore
falls
This trickling show'r of tears, to stain thy sweet
ness ?
26 JANE SHORE .
Jane S. If pity dwells within your noble breast
(As sure it does ) , oh, speak not to me thus.
Has. Can I behold thee, and not speak of love ?
Ev'n now, thus sadly as thou stand'st before me,
Thus desolate, dejected, and forlorn ,
Thy softness steals upon my yielding senses,
Till my soul faints, and sickens with desire ;
How canst thou give this motion to my heart,
And bid my tongue be still ?
Jane S. Cast round your eyes
Upon the high-born beauties of the court ;
Behold, like opening roses, where thy bloom ,
Sweet to the sense, unsully'd all, and spotless ;
There choose some worthy partner of your heart,
To fill your arms and bless your virtuous bed ;
Nor turn your eyes this way.
Has. What means this peevish, this fantastic
change ?
Where is thy wonted pleasantness of face,
Thy wonted graces, and thy dimpled smiles ?
Where hast thou lost thy wit and sportive mirth ?
That cheerful heart, which us'd to dance for ever,
And cast a day of gladness all around thee?
Jane S. Yes, I will own I merit the reproach ;
And for those foolish days of wanton pride,
My soul is justly humbled to the dust :
All tongues, like yours, are licens'd to upbraid me,
Still to repeat my guilt, to urge my infamy,
And treat me like that abject thing I have been .
Has. No more of this dull stuff. 'Tis time enough
To whine and mortify thyself with penance ,
The present moment claims more gen'rous use ;
Thy beauty, night and solitude reproach me,
For having talk'd thus long : -come let me press thee,
(Laying hold on her.)
Jane S. Forbear, my lord ! -here let me rather die,
(Kneeling.)
And end my sorrows and my shame for ever.
Has. Away with this perverseness ; -' tis too much .
 JANE SHORE . 27
Nay, if you strive, 'tis monstrous affectation !
(Striving. )
Jane S. Retire ! I beg you leave me―
Has. Thus to coy it !
With one whoknows you too.
Jane S. For mercy's sake
Has. Ungrateful woman ! Is it thus you pay
W
My services ?
Jane S. Abandon me to ruin, —
Rather than urge me—
Has. This way to your chamber ; (Pulling her,)
There if you struggle
Jane S. Help, O gracious heaven !
Help ! Save me ! Help ! [ Rushes out, R.H.

Enter DUMONT, R.H .; he interposes.

Dum. My lord ! for honour's sake

Has. Hah! What art thou ?-Be gone !
Dum. My duty calls me
To my attendance on my mistress here.
Has. Avaunt ! base groom :
At distance wait and know thy office better.
Dum. No, my lord
The common ties of manhood call me now,
And bid me thus stand up in the defence
Of an oppress'd, unhappy, helpless woman.
Has. And dost thou know me, slave ?
Dum. Yes, thou proud lord !
I know thee well ; know thee with each advantage
Which wealth, or pow'r, or noble birth can give thee.
I know thee too for one who stains those honours,
And blots a long illustrious line of ancestry,
By poorly daring thus to wrong a woman.
Has. 'Tis wondrous well ; I see, my saint-like dame,
You stand provided of your braves and ruffians,
To man your cause, and bluster in your brothel.
Dum. Take back the foul reproach, unmanner'd
railer !
Nor urge my rage too far, lest thou shouldst find
C 2
28 JANE SHORE.
I have as daring spirits in my blood
As thou or any of thy race e'er boasted ;
And though no gaudy titles grac'd my birth,
Yet heav'n that made me honest, made me more
Than ever king did, when he made a lord.
Has. Insolent villain ! henceforth let this teach
thee (Draws and strikes him.)
The distance 'twixt a peasant and and a prince.
Dum. Nay then, my lord, (Drawing.) learn you by
this, how well
An arm resolv'd can guard its master's life.
(They fight ; Dumont disarms Hastings .)
Has. Confusion ! baffled by a base-born hind !
Dum. Now, haughty sir, where is our difference
now ?
Your life is in my hand, and did not honour,
The gentleness of blood, and inborn virtue
(Howe'er unworthy I may seem to you,)
Plead in my bosom, I should take the forfeit.
But wear your sword again ; and know, a lord
Oppos'd against a man, is but a man.
Has. Curse on my failing hand ! your better fortune
Has giv'n you vantage o'er me ; but perhaps
Your triumph may be bought with dear repentance.
[Exit, L.H.

Re-enter JANE SHORE, R.H.

Jane S. Alas ! what have you done ? Know ye the

pow'r,
The mightiness that waits upon this lord ?
Dum. Fear not, my worthiest mistress ; ' tis a cause
In which heaven's guards shall wait you. O pursue,
Pursue the sacred counsels of your soul,
Which urge you on to virtue ;
Assisting angels shall conduct your steps,
Bring you to bliss, and crown your days with peace.
Jane S. O that my head were laid, my sad eyes
•
clos'd,
And my cold corse wound in my shroud to rest !
 JANE SHORE . 29

My painful heart will never cease to beat,

Will never know a moment's peace till then .
Dum. Would you be happy, leave this fatal place ;
Fly from the court's pernicious neighbourhood ;
Where innocence is sham'd, and blushing modesty
Is made the scorner's jest ; where hate, deceit,
And deadly ruin, wear the masks of beauty,
And draw deluded fools with shows of pleasure.
Jane S. Where should I fly, thus helpless and for
lorn,
Offriends, and all the means of life bereft ?
Dum. Belmour, whose friendly care still wakes to
serve you ,
Has found you out a little peaceful refuge,
Far from the court and the tumultuous city.
Within an ancient forest's ample verge,
There stands a lonely but a healthful dwelling,
Built for convenience and the use of life :
Around it fallows, meads, and pastures fair,
A little garden, and a limpid brook,
By nature's own contrivance seem'd dispos'd ;
No neighbours, but a few poor simple clowns,
Honest and true, with a well meaning priest ;
No faction, or domestic fury's rage,
Did e'er disturb the quiet of that place,
When the contending nobles shook the land
With York and Lancaster's disputed sway.
Your virtue there may find a safe retreat
From the insulting pow'rs of wicked greatness.
Jane S. Can there be so much happiness in store ?
A cell like that is all my hopes aspire to.
Haste then, and thither let us take our flight,
E'er the clouds gather, and the wintry sky
Descends in storms to intercept our passage.
Dum. Will you then go ? You glad my very soul .
Banish your fears, cast all your cares on me ;
Plenty and ease, and peace of mind shall wait you,
And make your latter days of life most happy.
O lady ! but I must not, cannot tell you,
How anxious I have been for all your dangers,
с 3
30 JANE SHORE .
And how my heart rejoices at your safety.
So when the spring renews the flow'ry field,
And warns the pregnant nightingale to build,
She seeks the safest shelter of the wood,
Where she may trust her little tuneful brood ;
Where no rude swains her shady cell may know,
No serpents climb, nor blasting winds may blow;
Fond of the chosen place, she views it o'er,
Sits there, and wanders through the grove no more ;
Warbling she charms it each returning night,
And loves it with a mother's dear delight.
[ Exeunt, R.H.

END OF ACT II.

ACT III.

SCENE I.- The Court.

Enter ALICIA, with a Paper, R.H.

Alic. This paper to the great protector's hand

With care and secresy must be convey'd :
His bold ambition now avows its aim ,
To pluck the crown from Edward's infant brow,
And fix it on his own. I know he holds
My faithless Hastings adverse to his hopes,
And much devoted to the orphan king :
On that I build ; this paper meets his doubts,
And marks my hated rival as the cause
Of Hastings' zeal for his dead master's sons.
Oh, jealousy ! thou bane of pleasing friendship,
How does thy rancour poison all our softness,
And turn our gentle nature's into bitterness !
See, where she comes ! once my heart's dearest blessing,
Now my chang'd eyes are blasted with her beauty,
Loath that known face, and sicken to behold he
 JANE SHORE. 31

Enter JANE SHORE, L.H.

Jane S. O my Alicia !
Alic. What new grief is this ?
What unforeseen misfortune has surpris'd thee,
That racks thy tender heart thus ?
Jane S, O Dumont !
Alic. Say, what of him ?
Jane S. That friendly, honest man,
Whom Belmour brought of late to my assistance,
On whose kind care, whose diligence and faith,
My surest trust was built, this very morn
Was seiz'd on by the cruel hand of power,
Forc'd from my house, and borne away to prison .
Alic. To prison, said you ? Can you guess the
cause ?
Jane S. Too well, I fear. His bold defence of me
Has drawn the vengeance of lord Hastings on him.
Alic. Lord Hastings ! ha !
Jane S. Some fitter time must tell thee
The tale of my hard hap. Upon the present
Hang all my poor, my last remaining hopes.
Within this paper is my suit contain'd ;
Here as the princely Gloster passes forth,
I wait to give it on my humble knees,
And move him for redress.
(She gives the paper to Alicia, who opens and seems
to read it ; Jane Shore retires up the Stage.)
Alic. Now for a wile,
To sting my thoughtless rival to the heart ;
To blast her fatal beauties, and divide her
For ever from my perjur'd Hastings' eyes :
Their fashions are the same, it cannot fail.
(Aside.- Pulling out the other Paper.)
Jane S. (Advancing .) But see the great protector
comes this way.
Give me the paper, friend.
Alic. For love and vengeance !
1. (Aside. She gives her the other Paper.)
C 4
 32 JANE SHORE.

Enter the DUKE of GLOSTER, SIR RICHARD

RATCLIFF, CATESBY, Courtiers, and other
Attendants, R.H. U.E.

Jane S. (Kneeling, R.H.) O noble Gloster, turn thy

gracious eye,
Incline thy pitying ear to my complaint ;
A poor, undone, forsaken, helpless woman,
Entreats a little bread for charity,
To feed her wants, and save her life from perishing.
Glos. Arise fair dame, and dry your wat'ry eyes.
(Receiving the Paper, and raising her. )
Beshrew me, but ' twere pity of his heart
That could refuse a boon to such a suitress.
You've got a noble friend to be your advocate :
A worthy and right gentle lord he is,
And to his trust most true. This present now
Some matters of the state detain our leisure ;
Those once dispatch'd , we'll call for you anon,
And give your griefs redress. Go to !-be comforted.
Jane S. Good heavens repay your highness for this
pity,
And show'r down blessings on your princely head !
Come, my Alicia, reach thy friendly arm,
1
And help me to support this feeble frame ,
That nodding totters with oppressive woe,
And sinks beneath its load.
[Exeunt Jane S. and Alic. R.H.
Glos. Now by my holidame !
Heavy of heart she seems, and sore afflicted .
But thus it is when rude calamity
Lays its strong gripe upon these mincing minions ;
The dainty gew-gaw forms dissolve at once,
And shiver at the shock. What says this paper ?
(Seeming to read.)
Ha! What is this ? Come nearer, Ratcliffe ! Catesby !
Mark the contents, and then divine the meaning.
(He reads.)
Wonder not, Princely Gloster, at the notice
 JANE SHORE . 33
This paper brings youfrom a friend unknown ;
Lord Hastings is inclined to call you master,
And kneel to Richard as to England's king ;
But Shore's bewitching wife misleads his heart,
And draws his service to king Edward's sons :
Drive her away, you break the charm that holds him,
And he, and all his powers, attend on you.
Sir R. (R.H.) 'Tis wonderful !
Cates. ( L.H. ) The means by which it came
Yet stranger too !
Glos. You saw it giv'n, but now.
Sir R. She could not know the purport.
Glos. No, ' tis plain
She knows it not, it levels at her life ;
Should she presume to prate of such high matters,
The meddling harlot, dear she should abide it.
Cates. What hand soe'er it comes from, be assur'd,
It means your highness well
Glos. Upon the instant,
Lord Hastings will be here ; this morn I mean
To prove him to the quick ; then if he flinch,
No more but this, -away with him at once,
He must be mine or nothing. — But he comes !
Draw nearer this way, and observe me well.
(They whisper.)

Enter LORD HASTINGS , L.H.

Has . This foolish woman hangs about my heart,

Lingers and wanders in my fancy still ;
This coyness is put on , ' tis art and cunning,
And worn to urge desire ;-I must possess her.
The groom, who lift his saucy hand against me,
Ere this, is humbled, and repents his daring.
Perhaps, ev'n she may profit by th' example,
And teach her beauty not to scorn my pow'r.
Glos. This do, and wait me e'er the council sits.
[ Exeunt Ratcliffe and Catesby, R.H. U.E.
My lord, you're well encounter'd ; here has been
A fair petitioner this morning with us ;
C 5
34 JANE SHORE .

Believe me, she has won me much to pity her :

Alas ! her gentle nature was not made
To buffet with adversity. I told her
How worthily her cause you had befriended ;
How much for your good sake we meant to do ,
That you had spoke, and all things should be well.
Has. Your highness binds me ever to your service.
Glos. You know your friendship is most potent with
us,
And shares our power. But of this enough,
For we have other matters for your ear ;
The state is out of tune : distracting fears,
And jealous doubts, jar in our public councils ;
Amidst the wealthy city, murmurs rise,
Lewd railings, and reproach on those that rule,
With open scorn of govenment ; hence credit,
And public trust 'twixt man and man, are broke.
The golden streams of commerce are withheld ,
Which fed the wants of needy hinds and artizans,
Who therefore curse the great, and threat rebellion .
Has. The resty knaves are over- run with ease,
As plenty ever is the nurse of faction ;
If in good days, like these, the headstrong herd
Grow madly wanton and repine, it is
Because the reins of power are held too slack,
And reverend authority of late
Has worn a face of mercy more than justice.
Glos. Beshrew my heart ! but you have well divin'd
The source of these disorders. Who can wonder
If riot and misrule o'erturn the realm ,
When the crown sits upon a baby brow ?
Plainly to speak, hence comes the gen'ral cry,
And sum of all complaint : ' twill ne'er be well
With England (thus they talk,) while children govern .
Has. 'Tis true, the king is young : but what of
that ?
We feel no want of Edward's riper years,
While Gloster's valour and most princely wisdom
So well support our infant sov'reign's place,
His youth's support, and guardian to his throne.
 JANE SHORE. 35
Glos. The council (much I'm bound to thank ' em
for't,)
Have plac'd a pageant sceptre in my hand,
Barren of pow'r, and subject to controul ;
Scorn'd by my foes, and useless to my friends.
Oh, worthy lord ! were mine the rule indeed,
I think I should not suffer rank offence
At large to lord it in the commonweal ;
Nor would the realm be rent by discord thus,
Thus fear and doubt, betwixt disputed titles.
Has. Of this I am to learn ; as not supposing
A doubt like this ;
Glos. Ay, marry, but there is—
And that of much concern. Have you not heard
How, on a late occasion, doctor Shaw
Has mov'd the people much about the lawfulness
Of Edward's issue ? By right grave authority
Of learning and religion , plainly proving,
A bastard scion never should be grafted
Upon a royal stock ; from thence at full
Discoursing on my brother's former contract
To lady Elizabeth Lucy, long before
His jolly match with that same buxom widow,
The queen he left behind him
Has. Ill befall
Such meddling priests, who kindle up confusion,
And vex the quiet world with their vain scruples !
By heav'n ' tis done in perfect spite to peace.
Did not the king
Our royal master, Edward, in concurrence
With his estates assembled, well determine
What course the sov'reign rule should take hencefor
ward ?
When shall the deadly hate of faction cease ?
When shall our long-divided land have rest,
If every peevish, moody malcontent,
Shall set the senseless rabble in an uproar ,
Fright them with dangers, and perplex their brains,
Each day with some fantastic giddy change ?
Glos . What if some patriot, for the public good,
c 6
36 JANE SHORE .
Should vary from your scheme, new-mould the state ?
Has. Curse on the innovating hand attempts it !
Remember him, the villain, righteous heaven,
In thy great day of vengeance ! blast the traitor
And his pernicious counsels ; who, for wealth,
For pow'r, the pride of greatness, or revenge,
Would plunge his native land in civil wars !
Glos. You go too far, my lord.
Has. Your highness ' pardon.
Have we so soon forgot those days of ruin,
When York and Lancaster drew forth their battles ;
When, like a matron butcher'd by her sons,
Our groaning country bled at every vein :
When murders, rapes , and massacres prevail'd ;
When churches, palaces, and cities blaz'd ;
When insolence and barbarism triumph'd,
And swept away distinction : peasants trod
Upon the necks of nobles : low were laid
The reverend crosier and the holy mitre,
And desolation covered all the land ;
Who can remember this, and not, like me,
Here vow to sheath a dagger in his heart,
Whose damn'd ambition would renew those horrors,
And set once more that scene of blood before us ?
Glos. How now ! so hot!
Has. So brave, and so resolv'd.
Glos. Is then our friendship of so little moment,
That you could arm your hand against my life ?
Has. I hope your highness does not think I mean
it ;
No, heav'n forfend that e'er your princely person
Should come within the scope of my resentment.
Glos. O noble Hastings ! nay, I must embrace you ;
(Embraces him .)
By holy Paul, you're a right honest man !
The time is full of danger and distrust,
And warns us to be wary. Hold me not
Too apt for jealousy and light surmise,
If when I meant to lodge you next my heart,
I put your truth to trial. Keep your loyalty,
 JANE SHORE. 37

And live your king and country's best support :

For me, I ask no more than honour gives,
To think me yours, and rank me with your friends.
[Exit, R.H.
Has. I am not read,
Nor skill'd and practis'd in the arts of greatness,
To kindle thus, and give a scope to passion .
The duke is surely noble ; but he touch'd me
Ev'n on the tend'rest point ; the master-string
That makes most harmony or discord to me.
I own the glorious subject fires my breast,
And my soul's darling passion stands confess'd ;
Beyond or love's or friendship's sacred band,
Beyond myself, I prize my native land :
On this foundation would I build my fame,
And emulate the Greek and Roman name ;
Think England's peace bought cheaply with my blood ,
And die with pleasure for my country's good .
[ Exit, R.H.

END OF ACT III.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.- The same.

Enter DUKE of GLOSTER, (In Centre, ) RATCLIFFE,

R.H. and CATESBY, L.H.

Glos. This was the sum of all : that he would

brook
No alteration in the present state.
Marry, at last, the testy gentleman
Was almost mov'd to bid us bold defiance :
But there I dropp'd the argument, and changing
The first design and purport of my speech,
I prais'd his good affection to young Edward,
And left him to believe my thoughts like his.
38 JANE SHORE.
Proceed we then in this fore-mentioned matter,
As nothing bound or trusting to his friendship .
Sir R. Ill does it thus befall. I could have wish'd
This lord had stood with us.
His name had been of ' vantage to your highness,
And stood our present purpose much in stead.
Glos. This wayward and perverse declining from us,
Has warranted at full the friendly notice,
Which we this morn receiv'd. I hold it certain,
This puling, whining harlot rules his reason,
And prompts his zeal for Edward's bastard brood.
Cates. If she have such dominion o'er his heart,
And turn it at her will, you rule her fate ;
And should, by inference and apt deduction,
Be arbiter of his . Is not her bread,
The very means immediate to her being,
The bounty of your hand ? Why does she live,
If not to yield obedience to your pleasure,
To speak, to act, to think as you command !
Sir R. Let her instruct her tongue to bear your
message !
Teach every grace to smile in your behalf,
And her deluded eyes to gloat for you ;
His ductile reason will be wound about,
Be led and turn'd again, say and unsay,
Receive the yoke, and yield exact obedience.
Glos. Your counsel likes me well, it shall be follow'd,
She waits without attending, on her suit,
Go, call her in, and leave us here alone.
[ Exeunt Ratcliffe and Cateshy, L.H.
How poor a thing is he, how worthy scorn,
Who leaves the guidance of imperial manhood
To such a paltry piece of stuff as this is !
A moppet made of prettiness and pride ;
That oftener does her giddy fancies change,
Than glittering dew-drops in the sun do colours.
Now, shame upon it ! was our reason given
For such a use ? To be thus puff'd about.
Sure there is something more than witchcraft in them,
That masters ev'n the wisest of us all.
 JANE SHORE. 39

Enter JANE SHORE , L.H.

Oh ! you are come most fitly. We have ponder'd

On this your grievance : and though some there are,
Nay, and those great ones too, who would enforce
The rigour of our power to afflict you ,
And bear a heavy hand ; yet fear not you :
We've ta'en you to our favour ; our protection
Shall stand between , and shield you from mishap.
Jane S. The blessings of a heart with anguish
broken
And rescu'd from despair, attend your highness.
Alas ! my gracious lord, what have I done
To kindle such relentless wrath against me ?
Glos. Marry, there are , though I believe them not ,
Who say you meddle in affairs of state :
That you presume to prattle like a busy-body,
Give your advice, and teach the lords o'the council
What fits the order of the commonweal .
Jane S. Oh, that the busy world, at least in this,
Would take example from a wretch like me !
None then would waste their hours in foreign thoughts,
Forget themselves, and what concerns their peace,
To search, with prying eyes, for faults abroad,
If all, like me, consider'd their own hearts,
And wept their sorrows which they found at home.
Glos. Go to ; I know your pow'r ; and though I
trust not
To ev'ry breath of fame , I'm not to learn
That Hastings is profess'd your loving vassal.
But fair befall your beauty : use it wisely,
And it may stand your fortunes much in stead,
Give back your forfeit land with large increase,
And place you high in safety and in honour.
Nay, I could point a way, the which pursuing,
You shall not only bring yourself advantage,
But give the realm much worthy cause to thank you.
Jane S. Oh! where or how- can my unworthy
hand
40 JANE SHORE.
Become an instrument of good to any?
Instruct your lowly slave, and let me fly
To yield obedience to your dread command.
Glos. Why, that's well said ;-Thus then, -observe
me well.
The state, for many high and potent reasons,
Deeming my brother Edward's sons unfit
For the imperial weight of England's crown
Jane S. Alas ! for pity.
Glos. Therefore have resolv'd
To set aside their unavailing infancy,
And vest the sov'reign rule in abler hands .
This, though of great importance to the public,
Hastings, for very peevishness and spleen,
Does stubbornly oppose.
Jane S. Does he ? Does Hastings ?
Glos. Ay, Hastings.
Jane S. Reward him for the noble deed, just
heav'ns :
For this one action guard him and distinguish him
With signal mercies, and with great deliverance,
Save him from wrong, adversity, and shame,
Let never fading honours flourish round him,
And consecrate his name, ev'n to time's end.
Glos. How now !
Jane S. The poor, forsaken, royal little ones !
Shall they be left a prey to savage power ?
Can they lift up their harmless hands in vain,
Or cry to heaven for help, and not be heard ?
Impossible ! O gallant, generous Hastings,
Go on, pursue, assert the sacred cause :
Stand forth, thou proxy of all -ruling Providence,
And save the friendless infants from oppression.
Saints shall assist thee with prevailing prayers,
And warring angels combat on thy side.
(Crosses to R.H.)
Glos. You're passing rich in this same heav'nly
speech ,
And spend it at your pleasure. Nay, but mark me !
My favour is not bought with words like these.
 JANE SHORE . 41

Go to you'll teach your tongue another tale .

Jane S. No, though the royal Edward has undone
me,
He was my king, my gracious master still ;
He lov'd me too, though ' twas a guilty flame ;
And can I ?-O my heart abhors the thought!
Stand by and see his children robb'd of right ?
Glos. Dare not, ev'n for thy soul, to thwart me
further !
None of your arts, your feigning, and your foolery;
Your dainty squeamish coying it to me ;
Go-to your lord, your paramour , be gone !
Lisp in his ear, hang wanton on his neck,
And play your, monkey gambols o'er to him.
You know my purpose, look that you pursue it,
And make him yield obedience to my will,
Do it, —or woe upon the harlot's head.
Jane S. Oh that my tongue had every grace of
speech ,
Great and commanding , as the breath of kings ;
That I had art and eloquence divine,
To pay my duty to my master's ashes,
And plead, till death, the cause of injur'd innocence .
Glos. Ha ! Dost thou brave me, minion ! Dost thou
know
How vile, how very a wretch, my pow'r can make
thee ?
That I can place thee in such abject state,
As help shall never find thee ; where, repining,
Thou shalt sit down, and gnaw the earth for anguish ;
Groan to the pitiless winds without return :
Howl, like the midnight wolf amidst the desert,
And curse thy life, in bitterness and misery !
Jane S. Let me be branded for the public scorn ,
Turn'd forth and driv'n to wander like a vagabond,
Be friendless and forsaken, seek my bread
Upon the barren wild and desolate waste,
Feed on my sighs, and drink my falling tears,
E'er I consent to teach my lips injustice,
Or wrong the orphan, who has none to save him.
 42 JANE SHORE .
Glos. 'Tis well :-we'll try the temper of your heart.
What, hoa ! Who waits without ?

Enter RATCLIFFE, CATESBY, and Attendants, L.H.

Glos. Go, some of you, and turn this strumpet

forth !
Spurn her into the street ; there let her perish,
And rot upon a dunghill. Through the city
See it proclaim'd, that none, on pain of death,
Presume to give her comfort, food, or harbour ;
Who ministers the smallest comfort, dies.
Her house, her costly furniture and wealth,
We seize on, for the profit ofthe state.
Away! Be gone !
Jane S. Oh, thou most righteous Judge
Humbly behold, I bow myself to thee, (Kneels.)
And own thy justice in this hard decree :
No longer, then, my ripe offences spare,
But what I merit, let me learn to bear.
Yet, since 'tis all my wretshedness can give,
For my past crimes my forfeit life receive ;
(They raise her.)
" No pity for my sufferings here I crave,
And only hope forgiveness in the grave .
[Exit Jane Shore, guarded by Catesby, L.H.
Glos. So much for this. Your project's at an end.
(To Sir Richard.)
This idle toy, this hilding scorns my power,
And sets us all at nought. See that a guard
Be ready at my call
Sir R. The council waits
Upon your highness's leisure.
Glos. I'll attend them . [Exeunt, L.H,

SCENE II.- The Council Chamber.

The DUKE of BUCKINGHAM, EARL of DERBY, BISHOP

of ELY, LORD HASTINGS, and others, discovered
in Council. The DUKE of GLOSTER enters, L.H.
and takes his Place at the upper End.
 JANE SHORE . 43

Der. (R.H.) In happy times we are assembled

here,
T' point the day, and fix the solemn pomp
For placing England's crown , with all due rites,
Upon our sovereign Edward's youthful brow.
Lord H. (L.H.) Some busy, meddling knaves, ' tis said
there are,
As such will still be prating, who presume
To carp and cavil at his royal right ;
Therefore, I hold it fitting, with the soonest,
T'appoint the order of the coronation :
So to approve our duty to the king,
And stay the babbling of such vain gainsayers.
Der. We all attend to know your highness' pleasure .
(To Gloster.)
Glos. (In Centre. ) My lords, a set of worthy men
you are,
Prudent and just, and careful for the state ;
Therefore, to your most grave determination
I yield myself in all things ; and demand
What punishment your wisdom shall think meet
T'inflict upon those damnable contrivers,
Who shall with potions, charms, and witching drugs,
Practise against our person and our life !
Has. So much I hold the king your highness'
debtor,
So precious are you to the commonweal,
That I presume, not only for myself,
But in behalf of these my noble brothers,
To say, whoe'er they be, they merit death.
Glos. Then judge yourselves, convince your eyes of
truth :
Behold my arm, thus blasted, dry, and wither'd,
(Pulling up his Sleeve.)
Shrunk like a foul abortion, and decay'd,
Like some untimely product of the seasons ,
Robb'd of its properties of strength and office.
This is the sorcery of Edward's wife ,
Who, in conjunction with that harlot Shore,
44 JANE SHORE.
And other like confederate midnight hags,
By force of potent spells, of bloody characters,
And conjurations horrible to hear,
Call fiends and spectres from the yawning deep,
And set the ministers of hell at work,
To torture and despoil me of my life.
Has. If they have done this deed
Glos. If they have done it !
Talk'st thou to me of ifs, audacious traitor !
Thou art that strumpet witch's chief abettor,
The patron and complotter of her mischiefs,
And join'd in this contrivance for my death.
Nay start not, lords.- What ho ! a guard there, sirs !

Enter Guards, L.H.

Lord Hastings, I arrest thee of high treason.

Seize him, and bear him instantly away.
He sha' not live an hour. By holy Paul,
I will not dine before his head be brought me.
Ratcliffe, stay you, and see that it be done :
The rest that love me, rise and follow me .
[Exeunt Gloster, R.H. the Lords following.

Manet LORD HASTINGS, SIR RICHARD RATCLiffe,

and Guards.

Has. What ! and no more but this !-How ! to

the scaffold !
O gentle Ratcliffe ! tell me, do I hold thee ?
Or if I dream, what shall I do to wake,
To break, to struggle through this dread confusion ?
For surely death itself is not so painful
As is this sudden horror and surprise .
Sir R. (L.H. ) You heard the duke's commands to
me were absolute .
Therefore, my lord, address you to your shrift
With all good speed you may. Summon your cou
rage,
And be yourself; for you must die this instant.
 JANE SHORE. 45

Has. Yes, Ratcliffe, I will take thy friendly coun

sel,
And die as a man should ; ' tis somewhat hard,
To call my scatter'd spirits home at once :
But since what must be, must be ;-let necessity
Supply the place of time and preparation ,
And arm me for the blow. 'Tis but to die,
'Tis but to venture on the common hazard,
Which many a time in battle I have run ;
'Tis but to close my eyes and shut out day-light,
men ,
To view no more the wicked ways of
No longer to behold the tyrant Gloster,
And be a weeping witness of the woes,
The desolation, slaughter, and calamities,
Which he shall bring on this unhappy land.

Enter ALICIA, L.H.

Alic. Stand off, and let me pass :-I will, I must

Catch him once more in these despairing arms,
And hold him to my heart.- O Hastings ! Hastings !
Has. Alas ! why com'st thou at this dreadful mo
ment
To fill me with new terrors, new distractions ;
To turn me wild with thy distemper'd rage,
And shock the peace of my departing soul ?
Away ; I pr'ythee, leave me !
Alic. Stop a minute
Till my full griefs find passage ;-O the tyrant
Perdition fall on Gloster's head and mine.
Has. What means thy frantic grief?
Alic. I cannot speak
But I have murder'd thee ;-Oh, I could tell thee !
Has. Speak, and give ease to thy conflicting pas
sion !
Be quick, nor keep me longer in suspense,
Time presses, and a thousand crowding thoughts
Break in at once ! this way and that they snatch ;
They tear my hurry'd soul : all claim attention,
And yet not one is heard. Oh ! speak, and leave me,
46 JANE SHORE.
For I have business would employ an age,
And but a minute's time to get it done in .
Alic. That, that's my grief ; -'tis I that urge thee on,
Thus hunt thee to the toil, sweep thee from earth,
And drive thee down this precipice of fate.
Has. Thy reason is grown wild. Could thy weak
hand
Bring on this mighty ruin ? If it could,
What have I done so grievous to thy soul ,
So deadly, so beyond the reach of pardon,
That nothing but my life can make atonement ?
Alic. Thy cruel scorn hath stung me to the heart,
And set my burning bosom all in flames ;
Raving and mad I flew to my revenge,
And writ I know not what ;-told the protector,
That Shore's detested wife, by wiles, had won thee
To plot against his greatness .-He believ'd it,
(Oh, dire event of my pernicious counsel ! )
And, while I meant destruction on her head,
He has turn'd it all on thine.
Has. O thou inhuman ! Turn thy eyes away,
And blast me not with their destructive beams :
Why should I curse thee with my dying breath ?
Be gone ! and let me die in peace. (Crosses to L.H. )
Alic. Canst thou- O cruel Hastings, leave me thus?
Hear me, I beg thee,-I conjure thee, hear me !
While with an agonizing heart, I swear,
By all the pangs I feel, by all the sorrows,
The terrors and despair thy loss shall give me,
My hate was on my rival bent alone.
Oh ! had I once divin'd, false as thou art,
A danger to thy life, I would have died,
I would have met it for thee.
Has. Now mark ! and tremble at heaven's just
award :
While thy insatiate wrath and fell revenge,
Pursu'd the innocence which never wrong'd thee,
Behold, the mischief falls on thee and me :
Remorse and heaviness of heart shall wait thee,
And everlasting anguish be thy portion :
 JANE SHORE. 47
For me, the snares of death are wound about me,
And now, in one poor moment, I am gone.
Oh ! if thou hast one tender thought remaining,
Fly to thy closet, fall upon thy knees,
And recommend my parting soul to mercy.
Alic. Oh ! yet, before I go for ever from thee,
Turn thee in gentleness and pity to me, (Kneeling.) ·
And, in compassion of my strong affliction,
Say, is it possible you can forgive
The fatal rashness of ungovern'd love ?
For, oh ! ' tis certain, if I had not lov'd thee
Beyond my peace, my reason, fame, and life,
This day of horror never would have known us.
Has. Oh, rise, and let me hush thy stormy sorrows .
(Raising her.)
Assuage thy tears, for I will chide no more,
No more upbraid thee, thou unhappy fair one.
I see the hand of heav'n is arm'd against me ;
And, in mysterious providence, decrees
To punish me by thy mistaken hand.
Most righteous doom ! for, oh, while I behold thee,
Thy wrongs rise up in terrible array,
And charge thy ruin on me ; thy fair fame,
Thy spotless beauty, innocence, and youth,
Dishonour'd, blasted, and betray'd by me.
Alic. And does thy heart relent for my undoing ?
Oh ! that inhuman Gloster could be mov'd,
But halfso easily as I can pardon !
(Catesby enters, R.H.- Whispers Ratcliffe.)
Has. Here, then, exchange we mutual forgiveness :
So may the guilt of all my broken vows,
My perjuries to thee, be all forgotten,
As here my soul acquits thee of my death,
As here I part without one angry thought,
As here I leave thee with the softest tenderness,
Mourning the chance of our disastrous loves,
And begging heav'n to bless and to support thee.
Sir R. ( L.H.) My lord, dispatch ; the duke has sent
to chide me,
For loitering in my duty
48 JANE SHORE .
Has . I obey.
Alic. Insatiate, savage monster ! Is a moment
So tedious to thy malice ? Oh, repay him,
Thou great avenger ! Give him blood for blood :
Guilt haunt him ! fiends pursue him ! lightnings blast
him !
That he may know how terrible it is
To want that moment he denies thee now,
Has. This rage is all in vain, that tears thy bosom :
Retire, I beg thee ;
To see thee thus, thou know'st not how it wounds
me ;
Thy agonies are added to my own,
And make the burden more than I can bear.
Farewell :-good angels visit thy afflictions,
And bring thee peace and comfort from above .
[Exit, L.H.
Alic. Oh ! stab me to the heart, some pitying hand,
Now strike me dead

Re-enter LORD HASTINGS , L.H.

Has. One thing I had forgot ;

I charge thee, by our present common miseries ;
By our past loves, if they have yet a name ;
By all thy hopes of peace here and hereafter,
Let not the rancour of thy hate pursue
The innocence of thy unhappy friend ;
Thou know'st who ' tis I mean ; Oh ! shouldst thou
wrong her,
Just heav'n shall doubleall thy woes upon thee,
And make ' em know no end ; -remember this,
As the last warning of a dying man.
Farewell, for ever !
(The Guards carry Hastings off, L.H.)
Alic. For ever ! Oh, for ever !
Oh, who can bear to be a wretch for ever !
My rival, too ! His last thoughts hung on her,
And, as he parted, left a blessing for her ;
Shall she be blest, and I be curst, for ever ;
 JANE SHORE . 49
No ; since her fatal beauty was the cause
Of all my suff'rings, let her share my pains ;
Let her, like me, of ev'ry joy forlorn,
Devote the hour when such a wretch was born ;
Cast ev'ry good, and ev'ry hope behind ;
Detest the works of nature, loathe mankind :
Like me, with cries distracted, fill the air,
Tear her poor bosom, rend her frantic hair,
And prove the torments ofthe last despair. [Exit, R.H.

END OF ACT IV;

ACT V.

SCENE I - A Street.

Enter BELMOUR and DUMONT, L ,H.

Dum: You saw her, then?

Bel. I met her, as returning,
In solemn penance from the public cross.
Before her, certain rascal officers,
Slaves in authority, the knaves of justice,
Proclaim'd the tyrant Gloster's cruel orders.
Around her, numberless, the rabble flow'd,
Should'ring each other, crowding for a view,
Gaping and gazing, taunting and reviling ;
Some pitying, but those, alas ! how few!
The most, such iron hearts we are, and such
The base barbarity of human kind,
With insolence and lewd reproach pursu❜d her,
Hooting and railing, and with villanous hands
Gath'ring the filth from out the common ways,
To hurl upon her head.
Dum. Inhuman dogs !
How did she bear it?
Bel. With the gentlest patience ;
Submissive, sad, and lowly was her look ;
D
 50 JANE SHORE .
A burning taper in her hand she bore,
And on her shoulders carelessly confus'd,
With loose neglect, her lovely tresses hung;
Upon her cheek a faintish blush was spread ;
Feeble she seem'd, and sorely smit with pain.
While barefoot as she trod the flinty pavement,
Her footsteps all along were mark'd with blood.
Yet, silent still she pass'd, and unrepining ;
Her streaming eyes bent ever on the earth,
Except when in some bitter pang of sorrow,
To heav'n she seem'd in fervent zeal to raise,
And beg that mercy man deny'd her here.
Dum. When was this piteous sight ?
Bel. These last two days.
You know my care was wholly bent on you,
To find the happy means of your deliverance,
Which but for Hastings' death I had not gain'd.
During that time, although I have not seen her,
Yet divers trusty messengers I've sent,
To wait about, and watch a fit convenience
To give her some relief, but all in vain ;
A churlish guard attends upon her steps,
Who menace those with death, that bring her com
fort,
And drive all succour from her.
Dum. Let ' em threaten ;
Let proud oppression prove its fiercest malice ;
So heav'n befriend my soul, as here I vow
To give her help, and share one fortune with her.
Bel. Mean you to see her thus, in your own form ?
Dum, I do.
Bel. And have you thought upon the consequence ?
Dum. What is there I should fear ?
Bel. Have you examin'd
Into your inmost heart, and try'd at leisure
The sev'ral secret springs that move the passions ?
Has mercy fix'd her empire there so sure,
That wrath and vengeance never may return ?
Can you resume a husband's name, and bid
-
That wakeful dragon, fierce resentment, sleep ?
 JANE SHORE . 51

Dum. O thou hast set my busy brain at work,

And now she musters up a train of images,
Which, to preserve my peace, I had cast aside,
And sunk in deep oblivion.-Oh, that form !
That angel face on which my dotage hung !
How I have gaz'd upon her, till my soul
With very eagerness went forth towards her,
And issu'd at my eyes.- Was there a gem
Which the sun ripens in the Indian mine,
Or the rich bosom of the ocean yields ?
What was there art could make, or wealth could buy,
Which I have left unsought to deck her beauty ?
What could her king do more ? —And yet she fled.
Bel. Away with that sad fancy
Dum. Oh, that day !
The thought of it must live for ever with me.
I met her, Belmour, when the royal spoiler
Bore her in triumph from my widow'd home !
Within his chariot, by his side she sat,
And listen'd to his talk with downward looks ,
'Till sudden as she chanc'd aside to glance,
Her eyes encounter'd mine ;-Oh ! then, my friend !
Oh ! who can paint my grief and her amazement !
As at the stroke of death, twice turn'd she pale ;
And twice a burning crimson blush'd all o'er her ;
Then, with a shriek heart-wounding, loud she cry'd,
While down her cheeks two gushing torrents ran
Fast falling on her hands, which thus she wrung :
Mov'd at her grief, the tyrant ravisher,
With courteous action woo'd her oft to turn ;
Earnest he seem'd to plead, but all in vain ;
Ev'n to the last she bent her sight towards me,
And follow'd me, -till I had lost myself. 1
(Crosses to L.B.)
Bel. Alas, for pity ! Oh ! those speaking tears !
Could they be false ? Did she not suffer with you .
For though the king by force possess'd her person,
Her unconsenting heart dwelt still with you ?
If all her former woes were not enough,
D2
52 JANE SHORE .
Look on her now ; behold her where she wanders,
Hunted to death, distress'd on every side,
With no one hand to help; and tell me then,
If ever misery were known like hers ?
Dum. And can she bear it ? Can that delicate frame
Endure the beating of a storm so rude ?
Can she, for whom the various seasons chang'd
To court her appetite and crown her board,
For whom the foreign vintages were press'd,
For whom the merchant spread his silken stores,
Can she
Entreat for bread, and want the needful raiment
To wrap her shiv'ring bosom from the weather?
When she was mine, no care came ever nigh her ;
I thought the gentlest breeze that wakes the spring,
Too rough to breathe upon her ; cheerfulness
Danc'd all the day before her, and at night
Soft slumbers waited on her downy pillow :
Now, sad and shelterless, perhaps she lies,
Where piercing winds blow sharp , and the chill rain
Drops from some pent-house on her wretched head,
Drenches her locks, and kills her with the cold.
It is too much :-hence with her past offences,
They are aton'd at full.- Why stay we then ?
Oh ! let us haste, my friend , and find her out.
Bel. Somewhere about this quarter of the town,
I hear the poor abandon'd creature lingers :
Her guard, though set with strictest watch to keep
All food and friendship from her, yet permit her
To wander in the streets, there choose her bed,
And rest her head on what cold stone she pleases.
Dum. Here then let us divide ; each in his round
To search her sorrows out ; whose hap it is
First to behold her, this way let him lead
Her fainting steps, and meet we here together.
[Exeunt, R.H.
 JANE SHORE . 53

SCENE II -A Street.

Enter JANE SHORE, L.H.U.E. her Hair hanging loose

on her Shoulders, and bare -footed.

Jane S. Yet, yet endure, nor murmur, O my soul !

For are not thy transgressions great and numberless ?
Do they not cover thee like rising floods,
And press thee like a weight of waters down ?
Wait then with patience, till the circling hours
Shall bring the time of thy appointed rest,
And lay thee down in death.
And, hark ! methinks the roar that late pursu'd me,
Sinks like the murmurs of a falling wind,
And softens into silence. Does revenge
And malice then grow weary, and forsake me ?
My guard, too, that observ'd me still so close,
Tire in the task of their inhuman office,
And loiter far behind. Alas ! I faint,
My spirits fail at once.-This is the door
Of my Alicia ;-blessed opportunity !
I'll steal a little succour from her goodness,
Now while no eye observes me.
(She knocks at R.H.D.)

Enter SERVAnt, r, h.d.

Is your lady,
My gentle friend, at home ! Oh ! bring me to her.
(Going in.)
Serv. Hold, mistress, whither would you ?
(Throwing her back.)
Jane S. Do you not know me !
Serv. I know you well, and know my orders too ;
You must not enter here ;
Jane S. Tell my Alicia,
"Tis I would see her.
Serv. She is ill at ease,
And will admit no visitor
D 3
54 JANE SHORE.
Jane S. But tell her
'Tis I, her friend, the partner of her heart,
Wait at the door and beg
Serv. 'Tis all in vain :
Go hence and howl to those that will regard you.
[ Shuts the Door.
Jane S. It was not always thus : the time has been,
When this unfriendly door, that bars my passage,
Flew wide, and almost leap'd from off its hinges,
To give me entrance here : when this good house
Has pour'd forth all its dwellers to receive me ;
When my aproaches made a little holiday,
And every face was dress'd in smiles to meet me :
But now ' tis otherwise ; and those who bless'd me,
Now curse me to my face. Why should I wander,
Stray further on, for I can die ev'n here ?
( She sits down in the centre of the Stage.)

Enter ALICIA, in disorder, R.H.D.

Alic. What wretch art thou, whose misery and base

ness
Hangs on my door ; whose hateful whine of woe
Breaks in upon my sorrows, and distracts
My jarring senses with thy beggar's cry ?
Jane S. A very beggar, and a wretch, indeed ;
One driv'n by strong calamity to seek
For succours here one perishing for want,
Whose hunger has not tasted food these three days ;
And humbly asks, for charity's dear sake,
A draught of water and a little bread.
Alic. And dost thou come to me, to me for bread ?
I know thee not .- Go ; -hunt for it abroad,
Where wanton hands upon the earth have scatter'd it,
Or cast it on the waters.-Mark the eagle,
And hungry vulture, where they wind the prey ;
Watch where the ravens of the valley feed,
And seek thy food with them :-I know thee not.
(Crosses to L.H.)
 JANE SHORE . 55

Jane S. (Rises. ) And yet there was a time, when my

Alicia
Has thought unhappy Shore her dearest blessing .
And mourn'd the live-long day she pass'd without me;
Inclining fondly to me she has sworn,
She lov'd me more than all the world besides .
Alic. Ha ! say'st thou!-Let me look upon thee
well ;
'Tis true;-I know thee now; -a mischief on thee !
Thou art that fatal fair, that cursed she,
That set my brain a madd'ning. Thou hast robb'd me;
Thou hast undone me.-Murder ! O, my Hastings !
See his pale bloody head shoots glaring by me !
Avaunt ; and come not near me.
Jane S. To thy hand
I trusted all ; gave my whole store to thee.
Nor do I ask it back ; allow me but
The smallest pittance, give me but to eat,
Lest I fall down and perish here before thee.
Alic. Nay ! tell not me ! Where is thy king, thy
Edward,
And all the cringing train of courtiers,
That bent the knee before thee ?
Jane S. Oh ! for mercy !
Alic, Mercy ! I know it not !-for I am miserable.
I'll give thee misery, for here she dwells,
This is her house, where the sun never dawns,
The bird ofnight sits screaming o'er the roof,
Grim spectres sweep along the horrid gloom ,
And nought is heard but wailings and lamentings.
Hark ! something cracks above ! it shakes ! it totters !
And see the nodding ruin falls to crush me !
'Tis fall'n, ' tis here ! I felt it on my brain !
Let her take my counsel :
Why shouldst thou be a wretch? Stab, tear thy heart,
And rid thyself of this detested being ;
I wo' not linger long behind thee here.
A waving flood of bluish fire swells o'er me ;
And now ' tis out, and I am drown'd in blood .
Ha ! what art thou ! thou horrid headless trunk ?
It is my Hastings ! see he wafts me on !
56 JANE SHORE .

Away ! I go ! Ifly ! I follow thee. (Rushes off, R.H. )

Jane S. Alas ! she raves ; her brain I fear is turn'd,
In mercy look upon her, gracious heav'n ,
Nor visit her for any wrong to me !
Sure I am near upon my journey's end :
My head runs round, my eyes begin to fail,
And dancing shadows swim before my sight,
I can no more ; (Lies down .) receive me, thou cold
earth,
Thou common parent, take me to thy bosom,
And let me rest with thee.
Enter BELMOUR, R.H.U.E.
Bel. Upon the ground !
Thy miseries can never lay thee lower.
Look up, thou poor afflicted one ! thou mourner,
Whom none has comforted ! Where are thy friends,
The dear companions of thy joyful days,
Whose hearts thy warm prosperity made glad,
Whose arms were taught to grow like ivy round thee,
And bind thee to their bosoms ?-Thus with thee,
Thus let us live, and let us die, they said.
Now where are they?
Jane S. Ah, Belmour ! where indeed ! they stand
aloof,
And view my desolation from afar !
And yet thy goodness turns aside to pity me.
Alas! there may be danger; get thee gone.
Let me not pull ruin on thy head,
Leave me to die alone, for I am fall'n
Never to rise, and all relief is vain.
Bel. Yet raise thy drooping head ; for I am come
To chase away despair. Behold ! where yonder
That honest man, that faithful, brave Dumont,
Is hasting to thy aid
Jane S. Dumont ! Ha ! where !
(Raising herself, and looking about.)
Then heav'n has heard my pray'r ; his very name
Renews the springs of life, and cheers my soul.
Has he then ' scap'd the snare ?
Bel. He has ; but see
He comes unlike the Dumont you knew,
 JANE SHORE . 57
For now he wears your better angel's form ,
And comes to visit you with peace and pardon.
Enter SHORE, L.H.
Jane S. Speak, tell me ! Which is he ! and ho !
what would
This dreadful vision ! See it comes upon me
It is my husband-Ah ! (She swoons .)
t
Shore. She faints, suppor her !
Bel. Her weakness could not bear the strong sur
prise.
But see, she stirs ! and the returning blood
Faintly begins to blush again , and kindle
Upon her ashy cheek : -
Shore. So, -gently raise her. (Raising her up.)
Jane S. Ha ! what art thou ? Belmour .
Bel. How fare you , lady ?
Jane S. My heart is thrill'd with horror,
Bel. Be of courage ;
Your husband lives ! ' tis he, my worthiest friend ;
Jane S. Still art thou there ! still dost thou hover
round me !
Oh, save me, Belmour , from his angry shade !
Bel. 'Tis he himself ! he lives ! look up :-
Jane S. I dare not !
Oh ! that my eyes could shut him out for ever
Shore. Am I so hateful then, so deadly to thee,
To blast thy eyes with horror ? Since I'm grown
A burden to the world, myself, and thee,
Would I had ne'er survived to see thee more.
Jane S. Oh ! thou most injur'd- dost thou live,
indeed ?
Fall then, ye mountains , on my guilty head ;
Hide me, ye rocks , within your secret caverns ;
Cast thy black veil upon my shame , O night !
And shield me with thy sable wing for ever.
Shore. Why dost thou turn away ? -Why tremble
thus ?
Why thus indulge thy fears , and in despair ,
Abandon thy distracted soul to horror ?
Cast every black and guilty thought behind thee,
58 JANE SHORE .
And let ' em never vex thy quiet more .
My arms, my heart, are open to receive thee,
To bring thee back to thy forsaken home,
With tender joy, with fond forgiving love.—
Let us haste.
Now while occasion seems to smile upon us,
Forsake this place of shame, and find a shelter.
Jane S. What shall I say to you ? But I obey ;
Shore. Lean on my arm;
Jane. S. Alas ! I'm wondrous faint :
But that's not strange, I have not eat these three days.
Shore. Oh, merciless !
Jane S. Oh ! I am sick at heart !
Shore. Thou murd'rous sorrow !
Wo't thou still drink her blood, pursue her still ?
Must she then die? O my poor penitent !
Speak peace to thy sad heart : she hears me not :
Griefmasters ev'ry sense

Enter CATESBY, L.H.U.E. with a Guard.

Cates. Seize on ' em both, as traitors to the state !
Bel. What means this violence ?
(Guards lay hold on Shore and Belmour.)
Cates. Have we not found you,
In scorn of the protector's strict command,
Assisting this base woman, and abetting
Her infamy ?
Shore. Infamy on thy head !
Thou tool of power, thou pander to authority !
I tell thee knave, thou know'st of none so virtuous,
And she that bore thee was an Ethiop to her.
Cates. You'll answer this at full :-away with ' em :
Shore. Is charity grown treason to your court ?
What honest man would live beneath such rulers ?
I am content that we should die together,
Cates. Convey the men to prison ; but for her,
Leave her to hunt her fortune as she may.
Jane S. I will not part with him:-for me !-for me!
Oh ! must he die for me ?
(Following him as he is carried off -Shefalls.)
 JANE SHORE. 59
Shore. Inhuman villains !
(Breaks from the Guards.)
-
Stand off ! the agonies of death are on her!
She pulls, she gripes me hard with her cold hand.
Jane S. Was this blow wanting to complete my
ruin ?
Oh ! let me go, ye ministers of terror.
He shall offend no more, for I will die ,
And yield obedience to your cruel, master.
Tarry a little but a little longer,
And take my last breath with you.
Shore. Oh, my love !
Why dost thou fix thy dying eyes upon me,
With such an earnest, such a piteous look,
As if thy heart were full of some sad meaning
Thou couldst not speak ?
Jane S. Forgive me !-but forgive me !
Shore. Be witness for me , ye celestial host,
Such mercy and such pardon as my soul
Accords to thee, and begs of heav'n to show thee ;
May such befall me at my latest hour,
And make my portion blest or curst for ever.
Jane S. Then all is well, and I shall sleep in peace; babagang
"Tis very dark, and I have lost you now :
Was there not something I would have bequeath'd you ?
But I have nothing left me to bestow,
Nothing but one sad sigh. Oh ! mercy, heav'n !
(Dies.)
o u n d
Disposition ofthe Characters when the Gr Curtain falls.
A N E n t he
J .
S (o CA . )
E TE
OR
GU

SB
R

SH ,
OU

Y.
AR
LM

DS
BE

.
.

404 at

Finis. band de ponie

18
R.H. CURTAIN. L.H.
 EPILOGUE.
YE modest matrons all, ye virtuous wives,
Who lead with horrid husbands decent lives ;
You, who, for all you are in such a taking,
To see your spouses drinking, gaming, raking,
Yet make a conscience still of cuckold -making ; }
What can we say your pardon to obtain ?
This matter here was prov'd against poor Jane :
She never once deny'd it ; but, in short,
Whimper'd,—and cry'd,—“ Sweet sir, I'm sorry for't.”
'Twas well he met a kind, good natur'd soul ;
We are not all so easy to control :
I fancy one might find in this good town,
Some would ha' told the gentleman his own ;
Have answered smart,-" To what do you pretend,
Blockhead ?-As if I must not see a friend :
Tell me of hackney- coaches, -Jaunts to th' city,
Where should I buy my china !-Faith, I'll fit ye."
Our wife was of a milder, meeker spirit ;
You !-lords and masters ! was not that some merit ?
Don't you allow it to be a virtuous bearing,
When we submit thus to your domineering ?
Well, peace be with her, she did wrong most surely ;
But so do many more who look demurely.
Nor should our mourning madam weep alone,
There are more ways of wickedness than one.
If the reforming stage should fall to shaming
Ill nature, pride, hypocrisy, and gaming ;
The poets frequently might move compassion,
And with she-tragedies o'er-run the nation.
Then judge the fair offender with good nature,
And let your fellow-feeling curb your satire.
What, if our neighbours have some little failing,
Must we needs fall to damning and to railing ?
For her excuse too, be it understood,
That if the woman was not quite so good,
Her lover was a king, she flesh and blood. }
And since sh' has dearly paid the sinful score,
Be kind at last, and pity poor Jane Shore.
 8

Orberry's Edition.

KING LEAR,

A TRAGEDY ;

ALTERED FROM SHAKSPEARE ,

By Nahum Tate.

WITH PREFATORY REMARKS

THE ONLY EDITIÓN EXISTING WHICH IS FAITHFULLY MARKED

WITH THE STAGE BUSINESS, AND STAGE DIRECTIONS,

AS IT IS PERFORMED AT THE

Theatres Royal.

BY W. OXBERRY, Comedian.

London.

PUBLISHED FOR THE PROPRIETORS, BY W. SIMPKIN, AND

R. MARSHALL, STATIONERS' COURT, LUDGATE-STREET,
AND C. CHAPPLE, 66, PALL-MALL.

1820.
Oxberry and Co. Printers, 8 , White Hart Yard.
 Remarks .

KING LEAR.

THE Tempest and King Lear seem to be the opposed and extreme
links of the chain which connects imagination with reality ; in the
first are the creatures of the wildest and most unbounded fancy ; in
the latter is a faithful picture of the human mind in its ordinary
habits. The action of the play, coloured as it is by the manners
of a barbarous period , tends to blind us to this truth ; we feel that
neither kings nor daughters could be so situated in the present state
of society ; yet, still their passions and feelings are those of our
own day ; the race of unjust fathers and ungrateful children is not
yet extinct.
This tragedy alone is a sufficient proof that Shakspeare was not
the rude uncultivated genius which it has been the fashion to sup
pose him ; it would be difficult in the whole circle of the drama,
ancient or modern , French or Grecian, to point out a single play of
so much dramatic skill ; great as is Shakspeare's merit in the deli
neation of individual character, it is not in that he has deserved
the greatest praise ; is in the mutual action and re-action of the
characters on each other ; in the whole numerous groupe there is
not a single figure, whether it stand in light or in shadow, which
does not tend to heighten the effect of the principal character. The
assumed idiotism of Edgar, the satire of the fool,* the cruelty of
Regan and Goneril, and even the folly of Oswald, are made essen
tial to this point ; there is no moral description in the whole play,
the language and actions of the several characters are sufficient to
their illustration. It is this that the modern dramatist never can
accomplish, and which the best of the French writers never have
endeavoured to accomplish ; character is profusely described but
it is never called into action : in witnessing a modern English
play or a French one of any period , we seem to be called upon to
gaze at a lifeless picture, while the author acts the part of a cice
Now wholly omitted in Representation.
 iv

rone. " This is the most noble and most terrible Apostate ; " " This
is the Lady Evadne, " &c. &c. &c. In this indictment, moreover, it
is not stated, that the said Apostates and Evadnes may belong to
the moon or the evening star, for certainly they do not appertain
to earth .
Much has been said against the horrible catastrophe of this play,
and the dictum of Dr. Johnson has been held forth against all who
were rash enough to prefer Shakspeare to Nahum Tate. Johnson has
left it on record that nothing but his duty of editor could induce
him to re-peruse the play ; but it is not easy to conceive what
the Doctor's nerves have to do with the point in dispute ; the me
rits of the question must be tried on other grounds than that of
individual feeling. Is not the restoration of Lear to felicity, after
so much suffering, an anti-climax ? Is not death the only thing
that could be super-added without untuning the mind of the
spectator, wrought up to the highest pitch of sensation ? But as
authority weighs more than argument with the many, let us en
quire what were the opinions of Addison and Schlegel, men as ho
nourably distinguished in the annals of literature as Dr. Johnson.
" Aristotle considers the tragedies that were written in either of
these kinds (with happy or unhappy catastrophes ,) and observes,
that those which ended unhappily had always pleased the people,
and carried away the prize in the public disputes of the stage, from
those that ended happily. Terror and commiseration leave a
pleasing anguish in the mind, and fix the audience in such a seri
ous composure of thought, as is much more lasting and delightful
than any little transient starts of joy and satisfaction . The best
plays of this kind are the Orphan, Venice Preserved, Alexander
the Great, Theodosius, All for Love, Edipus, Oroonoko, Othello,
&c. King Lear is an admirable tragedy of the same kind, as
Shakspeare wrote it ; but as it is reformed according to the chime
rical notion ofpoetical justice, in my humble opinion it has lost half
its beauty." SPECTATOR, No. 40.
The German Critic is no less decided in its opinion :
" Man hat ihren Tod zu herbe gefunden , und das Stück wird in
England mit der Veränderung aufgeführt, das sie siegreich und
glücklich bleibt. Ich gestehe es, ich begreife nicht, welche Vor
stellungen von der Kunst und dem dramatischen Zusammenhange
 diejenigen haben, welche glauben, man könne einen Trauerspiele
nach Belieben einen doppelten Ausgang anpassen ; einen trauriger
für hartherzige Zuschaner, und einen frölichen für weichgeschaffene
Seelen. Nachdem Lear so vieles überstanden, kann er nur am
Schmerz über Cordelia's Tod auf eine tragische Art sterben, und
soll er gleichfalls gerettet werden und noch eine glückliche zeit
erleben, so verliert das Ganze seine Bedeutung.
" Zwölfte Vorlesung."
" Her death (Cordelia's death) has been found too dreadful, and
in England the piece is represented with a change, in which she
remains victorious and happy. I confess I do not understand what
ideas of dramatic art and combination they have, who fancy that
one can at pleasure fit a double catastrophe to a piece-a melan
choly one for hard-hearted spectators, and a happy one for tender
hearted souls. After Lear has gone through so much, he can only,
in a tragic style, die of grief upon Cordelia's death, and the whole
loses its meaning if he is saved and lives happily." Twelfth Lecture.
The poetry of this piece is of the highest order ; it combines the
excellencies of Euripides and the sublimity of Eschylus ; it is even
superior to them, by as much as reality is superior to description.
The Greek poet describes his storm ; Shakspeare brings it actually
before our eyes ; of course we do not allude to the mechanical imi
tation of the tempest, but to the poetical contrivance of either : all
this however will be made more plain by bringing together the two
storms, and leaving the reader to form his own judgment.
" Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks ! rage ! blow !
You cataracts , and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks !
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunder-bolts,
Singe my white head ! And thou , all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o'the world !
Crack nature's moulds , all germens spill at once,
That make ingrateful man.
" Rumble thy belly full ! Spit, fire ! spout, rain !
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters ;
I tax not you, ye elements, with unkindness ;
I never gave you kingdoms, call'd you children ;
 vi

You owe me no subscription, why then let fall

Your horrible pleasure!”
"6 -Let the great gods,
That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads,
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch,
That hast within thee undivulged crimes,
Unwhipp'd of justice : Hide thee, thou bloody hand ;
Thou perjur'd, and thou simular man of virtue
That art incestuous ; Caitiff, to pieces shake,
That under covert and convenient seeming
Hast practis’d on man's life !-Close pent-up guilts ,
Rive your concealing continents, and cry
These dreadful summoners grace,
" Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm ,
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides,
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness , defend you
From seasons such as these ? O, I have talen
Too little care of this ! Take physick , pomp ;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel ;
That thou may'st shake the superflux to them,
And show the heavens more just."
Καὶ μην Εργῳ κουκετι μυθῳ
Χθων σεσαλυταί·
Βρυχία δήχω παραμυκᾶται
Βροντῆς, ἔλικες δ᾽ἔκλαμπεσι
Στερόπης ζάπυροι , ςρόμβοι δε χονιν
Ειλίσσεσι σκιρτα δ'ανεμων
Πνεύματα παντων, εις αλληλα
Στασιν αντιπνεν αποδείκνυμενα
Συντεταρακται δ'αιθηρ ποντῳ ,
Τοιαδ' επ έμοι ριπη Διοθεν
Τευχεσα φοβον , στείχει φανερῶς.
Ω μητρος εμῆς σεβας, ὥ παντων
Αιθηρ κοινον φαος ειλίσσων,
Εστσορᾶς μ'ως εκδικά πασχω .
* I have preferred the common reading to Schaeffer's Emendation .
Και μην εργον κεκετι μυθος .
 vii

"Not in words, but in reality, the earth begins to shake ; the

hoarse roar of the thunder echoes, the blazing volumes of light
ning flash, and the whirlwinds scatter the dust ; all the winds leap
and rush in civil war against each other ; the air is confounded with
the sea ; so dreadful a torment does Jove direct against me ! O, di
vinity of my mother ! O, air, rolling the common light, you see
what and how unjustly I suffer."
Προμηθεύς Δεσμώτης
AD FINEM.
The praise of sublimity can not be denied to this description,
which must, of course, lose considerably by a prose translation ;
but yet how much is it out of place ; Prometheus, who is in fear
and agony, gives this elaborate description. To pursue the argu
ment farther by extending the extracts would little suit our pre
scribed limits ; but let the reader seek for himself ; the more he
compares the drama of other writers with that of Shakspeare, the
more reason he will find to join in our opinion. The little space
that is yet left to us we wish to allot to a copious extract from Ho
lingshead, not so much to gratify curiosity as because it will serve
to shew the consummate skill of the poet.
Leir the sonne of Baldud was admitted ruler ouer the Britaines,
in the yeare of the world 3105 , at what time Ioas reigned in Iuda.
This Leir was a prince of right noble demeanor , gouerning his land
and subiects in great wealth. He made the towne of Caerleir now
called Leicester, which standeth vpon the riuer of Sore. It is writ
ten that he had by his wife three daughters without other issue, whose
names were Gonorilla, Regan, and Cordeilla, which daughters he
greatly loued, but especially Cordeilla the yoongest farre aboue the
two elder. When this Leir, therefore, was come to great yeres, and
began to waxe vnweldie through age, he thought to vnderstand the
affections of his daughters towards him, and preferre hir whome he
best loued, to the succession ouer the kingdome. Whervpon he first
asked Gonorilla the eldest, how well she loued him who calling
hir gods to record , protested that she loued " him more than hir
owne life, which by right and reason should be most déere vnto hir.
With which answer the father being well pleased, turned to the se
cond, and demanded of hir how well she loued him : who answered
(confirming hir saiengs with great othes) that she loued him more
 1

viii

than toong could expresse, and farre aboue all other creatures of the
world."
Then called he his yoongest daughter Cordeilla before him, and
asked of hir what account she made of him , vnto whome she made
this answer as followeth : " Knowing the great loue and fatherlie
zeale that you haue alwaies borne towards me (for the which I maie
not answere you otherwise than I thinke, and as my conscience
leadeth me) I protest vnto you, that I haue loued you euer, and will
continuallie (while I liue) loue you as my naturall father. And if
you would more vnderstand of the loue that I beare you, assertaine
your selfe, that so much as you haue, so much you are woorth, and
so much I loue you, and no more. The father being nothing content
with this answer, married his two eldest daughters, the one vnto
Henninus the duke of Cornewall, and the other vnto Maglanus the
duke of Albania, betwixt whome he willed and ordeined that his
land should be diuided after his death, and the one half thereof im
mediatlie should be assigned to them in hand : but for the third
daughter Cordeilla he reserued nothing. "
Neuertheless it fortuned that one of the princes of Gallia (which is
now called France) whose name was . Aganippus, hearing of the
beautie, womanhood, and good conditions of the said Cordeilla, de
sired to haue her in marriage, and sent ouer to hir father, requiring
that he might haue hir to wife : to whome answer was made, that
he might haue his daughter, but as for anie dower he could haue
none, for all was promised and assured to hir other sisters alreadie.
Aganippus notwithstanding this answer of deniall to receiue anie
thing by way of dower with Cordeilla, tooke hir to wife, only moued
thereto ( I saie) for respect of hir person and amiable vertues. This
Aganippus was one of the twelue kings that ruled Gallia in those
daies, as in the British historie it is recorded. But to proceed.
After that Leir was fallen into age, the two dukes that had mar
ried his two eldest daughters, thinking it long yer the gouernment of
the land did come to their hands , arose against him in armour, and
reft from him the gouernance of the land, vpon conditions to be
continued for terme of life : by the which he was put to his portion,
that is, to liue after a rate assigned to him for the maintenance of
his estate,which in processe of time was diminished as well by Mag
lanus as by Henninus. But the greatest griefe that Leir tooke, was
 ix

to seethe vnkidnesse of his daughters, which seemed to thinke that

all was too much which their father had, the same being neuer so
little : in so much that going from one to the other, he was brought
to that miserie, that scarslie they would allow him one seruant to
wait vpon him.
In the end, such was the vnkindness or (as I maie saie) the
vnnaturalnesse which he found in his two daughters, notwithstanding
their faire and pleasant words vttered in time past, that being con
streined of necessitie, he fled the land, and sailed into Gallia, there
to seeke some comfort of his yongest daughter Cordeilla, whom be
fore time he hated. The ladie Cordeilla hearing that he was arriued
in poor estate, she first sent him priuilie a certeine summe of monie
to apparell himselfe withall , and to reteine a certeine number of
seruants that might attend vpon him in honourable wise, as apper
tcined to the estate which he had borne : and then so accompanied,
she appointed him to come to the court, which he did, and was so
ioifullie, honourablie, and louinglie received , both by his sonne in
law Aganippus, and also by his daughter Cordeilla, that his hart was
greatlie comforted : for he was no lesse honoured, than if he had
beene king of the whole countrie himselfe.
Now when he had informed his sonne in law and his daughter in
what sort he had béene vsed by his other daughters, Aganippus
caused a mightie armie to be put in a readinesse , and likewise a
great nauie of ships to be rigged, to passe ouer into Britaine with
Leir his father in law, to see him againe restored to his kingdome.
It was accorded, that Cordeilla should also go with him to take pos
session of the land, the which he promised to leaue vnto hir, as the
rightfull inheritour after his decesse, notwithstanding any former
grant made to hir sisters or to their husbands in anie maner of wise
Herevpon, when this armie and nauie of ships were readie, Leir
and his daughter Cordeilla with hir husband took the sea, and arri
uing in Britaine, fought with their enemies, and discomfited them in
battel , in the which Maglanus and Henninus were slaine : and then
was Leir restored to his kingdome, which he ruled after this by the
space of two yéeres, and then died, fortie yeeres after he first began
to reigne. His bodie was buried at Leicester in a vaut vnder the
channell of the riuer of Sore beneath the towne.
Cordeilla the yoongest daughter of Leir was admitted Q. and su
 X.

preme gouernesse of Britaine, in the yéere of the world 3155 , be

fore the bylding of Rome 54, Vzia then reigning in Iuda, and Iero
boam ouer Israell. This Cordeilla after hir father's decease , ruled
the land of Britaine right worthilie during the space of fiue yêeres ,
in which mean time hir husband died, and then about the end of
those fiue yeeres, hir two nephewes Margan and Cunedag, sonnes to
hir aforesaid sisters, disdaining to be vnder the gouernment of a wo
man, leuied warre against hir, and destroied a great part of the land ,
and finallie tooke hir prisoner, and laid her fast in ward, wherewith
she tooke such griefe, being a woman of a manlie courage, and de
spairing to recouer libertie , there she slue herselfe, when she had
reigned (as before mentioned) the tearme of fiue yéeres.
Nahum Tate was the son of Dr. Faithful Tate, and was born at
Dublin, in 1652, At the age of sixteen he was admitted of the col
5
lege there. He succeeded Shadwell as poet laureat, and continued
in that office until his death , which happened on the 12th ofAugust,
in 1715, in the Mint, and was buried in St. George's church . He
was remarkable for a downcast look, and had seldom much to say
for himself-but a free, good-natured , drinking companion . His dra
matic works are-" Brutus of Alba, T. 4to . 1678.-The Loyal Ge
neral, T. 4to. 1680.- King Lear, T. altered from Shakspeare, 4to.
1631.-Richard II.; or, the Sicilian Usurper, Hist. Play, 4to, 1681 .
Printed under the latter title, 4to. 1691.-The Ingratitude of a Com
monwealth ; or, the Fall of Coriolanus , T. 4to. 1682. - Cuckold's
Haven ; or, An Alderman no Conjuror, F. 4to 1685.- Duke and
No Duke, F, 4to. 1685. Taken from Sir Aston Cokayne's Trappolin.
-The Island Princess, Tragic Com. 4to . 1687.- Injured Love ; or,
The Cruel Husband, T, 4to. 1707.-Dido and Æneas, Op.
 Costume.

KING LEAR.- First dress.- Richly embroidered Saxon tunic of

rich crimson velvet, ditto cap ; flesh-coloured arms legs and
sandals.-Second dress.- Black.
DUKE of BURGUNDY.-Yellow Saxon tunic, crimson robe and
cap, flesh- coloured arms legs and sandals.
DUKE of CORNWALL.-White tunic, scarlet robe and cap, flesh
coloured arms legs and sandals.
* DUKE of ALBANY -Yellow tunic, crimson robe and cap, flesh
coloured arms legs and saudals.
DUKE of GLOSTER. - Brown tunic, blue robe and cap, flesh-co
loured arms legs and sandals.
DUKE of KENT. -Crimson tunic, brown robe and cap, flesh
coloured arms legs and sandals.-Second dress.-Drab- coloured
tunic and cap.
EDGAR. First dress.-White tunic, scarlet robe and cap.
Second dress .- Green tunic, and robe of coarse white baize.
Third dress.- Grey tunic and cap.- Fourth dress.-Coat of mail
armour.
EDMUND -Scarlet tunic, green robe and cap. - Second dress.
Armour, with leopard skin robe.
PHYSICIAN.-Black tunic , and white robe.
OLD MAN.- Drab-coloured tunic and cap, flesh-coloured arms and
legs.
OSWALD. —White tunic, blue robe and cap , flesh- coloured arms
and legs.
CAPTAIN of the GUARD .- Scarlet tunic and cap, flesh-coloured
arms and legs.
PAGE to GONERIL.- White tunic, scarlet robe, and white cap .
PAGE to REGAN.- Blue tunic, scarlet robe, and blue cap.
GONERIL.- White muslin dress, trimmed with gold, scarlet cloth
robe, trimmed with gold, tiara for the head, flesh-coloured
stockings and red sandals.
REGAN . White muslin dress, trimmed with silver, and clasped
together with metal clasps in front, purple cloth robe, tiara for
the head, flesh-coloured stockings, and russet sandals.
CORDELIA.- White kerseymere dress and drapery, trimmed with
scarlet velvet and gold lace, fastened in front with metal clasps,
tiara for the head, flesh-coloured stockings and sandals -Second
dress.-White muslin dress, grey mantle, trimmed, black ditto,
handkerchief for the head-Third dress.- White drapery.
ARANTHE.- Brown cloth dress , clasped together with metal clasps,
fawn coloure mantle, bound with black.
ATTENDANTS .-White dress cloth robes, flesh-coloured stock
ings, and russet sandals .
 Persons Represented.

Drury-lane. Covent-garden.
King Lear..... Mr. Kean. Mr. Booth.
Duke of Burgundy ....
.. Mr. Thompson. Mr. Norris.
Duke of Cornwall ..... Mr. Penley. Mr. Jefferies.
Duke of Albany... Mr. Barnard. Mr. Connor..
Earl of Kent.... Mr. Dowton . Mr. Fawcett.
Earl of Closter... Mr. Holland. Mr. Egerton.
Edgar.... Mr. Rae. Mr. C. Kemble.
Edmund , ... •• Mr. Hamblin. Mr. Macready.
...
Oswald…….... Mr. Russell. Mr. Farley.
Old Man.. Mr. Foote. Mr. Barnes.
Goneril.... Mrs. Glover. Mrs. Connor.
Regan.. Mrs. Egerton. Mrs. Yates.
Cordelia ... Mrs. W. West. Miss S. Booth.

Time of Representation.

The time this piece takes in representation , is three hours. The

first act occupies the space of thirty-seven minutes ;—the second,
thirty-two ;—the third, forty-seven ;—the fourth, thirty-nine ; and
the fifth, forty. The half price commences, generally, at about
nine o'clock.

Stage Directions..

By R.H.. is meant.. Right Hand.

L.H .. Left Hand.
S. E.... ···· Second Entrance.
U.E.. Upper Entrance.
M.D.. Middle Door.
D.F.. .. Door in flat.
R.H.D.... .. Right Hand Door.
L.H.D. Left Hand Door.
 KING LEAR .

ACT I.

SCENE I.—— An Antichamber in King Lear's

Palace.

Enter EDMUND , R.H.

Edm. Thou, Nature, art my goddess ; to thy law

My services are bound : why am I then
Depriv'd of a son's right, because I came not
In the dull road that custom has prescrib'd ?
Why bastard? Wherefore base ? when I can boast
A mind as gen'rous, and a shape as true
As honest madam's issue ? Why are we
Held base, who in the lusty stealth of Nature
Take fiercer qualities than what compound
The scanted births ofthe stale marriage-bed ?
Well, then, legitimate Edgar, to thy right
Of law I will oppose a bastard's cunning.
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund
As to legitimate Edgar ; with success ON A
I've practis'd yet on both their easy natures.
Here comes the old man, chaf'd with the information
Which last I forg'd against my brother Edgar :
A tale so plausible, so boldly utter'd,
nd heighten'd by such lucky accidents,
B
2 KING LEAR.
That now the slightest circumstance confirms him,
And base-born Edmund, spite of law, inherits.
(Retires a little, R.H.

Enter KENT and GLOSTER, L.H.

Glost. Nay, good my lord, your charity

O'ershoots itself, to plead in his behalf;
You are yourself a father, and may feel
The sting of disobedience from a son
First-born and best-belov'd. -O, villain Edgar !
Kent. Be not too rash ; all may be forgery,
And time yet clear the duty of your son .
Glost. Plead with the seas, and reason down the
winds,
Yet shalt thou ne'er convince me : I have seen
His foul designs through all a father's fondness.
Edm. It works as I could wish ; I'll shew myself.
(Aside, Advances.)
Glost. Ha, (Crosses to Edmund, R.H.) Edmund !
welcome, boy.- O Kent ! see here
Inverted nature, Gloster's shame and glory :
This bye-born, the wild sally of my youth,
Pursues me with all filial offices ;
Whilst Edgar, begged of heaven, and born in honour,
Draws plagues upon my head, that urge me still
To curse in age the pleasure of my youth.
Nay, weep not, Edmund, for thy brother's crimes.
O gen'rous boy ! thou shar'st but half his blood,
Yet lov'st beyond the kindness of a brother :
But I'll reward thy virtue. Follow me.
My lord, you wait the king, who comes resolv'd
To quit the toils of empire, and divide
His realms amongst his daughters. Heaven succeed it !
But much I fear the change.
Kent. I grieve to see him
With such wild starts of passion hourly seiz❜d,
As render majesty beneath itself.
Glost. Alas ! 'tis the infirmity of his age :
Yet has his temper ever been unfixt,
 KING LEAR . 3
Chol'ric, and sudden.
(Flourish of Trumpets and Drums, R.H.)
Hark, they approach. [ Flourish.- Exeunt, R.H.

Enter CORDELIA, L.H. EDGAR, following.

Edg. Cordelia, royal fair, turn yet once more,

And, ere successful Burgundy receive
The treasure of thy beauties from the king,
Ere happy Burgundy for ever fold thee,
Cast back one pitying look on wretched Edgar.
Cord. Alas ! what would the wretched Edgar with
'The more unfortunate Cordelia ?
Who, in obedience to a father's will,
Flies from her Edgar's arms to Burgundy's.
(A Flourish sounds and continues until the
Scene changes .)
[ Exeunt ; Cordelia, R.H. and Edgar, L.H ,

SCENE II.- A Room of State in the Palace.

(Flourish of Drums and Trumpets, R.H.)

KIN LEAR upon his Throne, ALBANY, CORNWALL,

BURGUNDY, KENT, GLOSTER, GONERIL, REGAN ,
CORDELIA, Captain of the Guard, three Knights,
two Pages, two Gentlemen with the Map, two
Gentlemen with the Crown, Physician, Herald,
Banners and Guards, Lords, Ladies, &c. &c.
discovered.

Lear. Attend, my lords of Albany and Cornwall,

With princely Burgundy.
Alb. We do, my liege.
Lear. Give me the map.-(The Gentlemen who
hold the Map, L.H. advance a little, and unroll
it.)-Know, lords, we have divided,
In three our kingdom, having now resolv'd
To disengage from our long toil of state,
B 2
4 KING LEAR .
Conferring all upon your younger years.
You, Burgundy, Cornwall, and Albany,
Long in our court have made your amorous sojourn ,
And now are to be answered.- Tell me, my daughters,
Which of you loves us most, that we may place
Our largest bounty with the largest merit.
Goneril, our eldest born, speak first.
Gon. Sir, I do love you more than words can utter,
Beyond what can be valu'd rich or rare ;
Nor liberty, nor sight, health, fame, or beauty,
Are half so dear ; my life for you were vile ;
As much as child can love the best of fathers.
Lear. Of all these bounds, e'en from this line to this,
With shady forests, and wide skirted meads,
We make thee lady ; to thine and Albany's issue
Be this perpetual .-What says our second daughter,
Regan, wife to Cornwall ?
Reg. My sister, sir, in part, exprest my love ;
For such as her's, is mine, though more extended :
Sense has no other joy that I can relish ;
I have my all in my dear liege's love.
Lear. Therefore, to thee and thine hereditary,
Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom .
(Whilst Cordelia is speaking, Lear, assisted by
Kent, L.H. and Gloster, R.H. descends from
the throne, and comes forward into the centre ;
Kent goes below Burgundy, L.H. and Gloster
remains at Lear's R.H. a little behind him.)
Cord. Now comes my trial.- How am I distrest,
That must with cold speech tempt the chol'ric king
Rather to leave me dowerless, than condemn me
To Burgundy's embraces ! (Aside.)
Lear. Speak now, our last, not least in our dear love,
So ends my task of state,-Cordelia, speak ;
What canst thou say to win a richer third,
Than what thy sisters gained?
Cord. Now must mylove, in words, fall short oftheir's,
As much as it exceeds in truth .- ( Aside. ) — Nothing,
my lord.
Lear . Nothing ?
 KING LEAR. 5
Cord. Nothing.
Lear. Nothing can come of nothing ; speak again .
Cord. Unhappy am I that I can't dissemble :
Sir, as I ought, I love your majesty,
No more, nor less .
Lear. Take heed, Cordelia ;
Thy fortunes are at stake ; think better on't,
And mend thy speech a little.
Cord. O my liege !
You gave me being, bred me, dearly loved me,
And I return my duty as I ought ,
Obey you, love you, and most honour you.
Why have my sisters husbands, if they love you all ?
Haply when I shall wed, the lord, whose hand
Shall take my plight, will carry half my love ;
For I shall never marry like my sisters,
To love my father all.
Lear. And goes thy heart with this ?
"Tis said that I am chol'ric. Judge me, gods,
Is there not cause ? Now, minion, I perceive
The truth of what has been suggested to us,
Thy fondness for the rebel son of Gloster.
And oh ! take heed, rash girl, lest we comply
With thy fond wishes, which thou wilt too late
Repent ; for know, our nature cannot brook
A child so young, and so ungentle.
Cord. So young, my lord, and true.
Lear. Thy truth then be thy dower :
For, by the sacred Sun, and solemn Night,
I here disclaim all my paternal care ,
And from this minute hold thee as a stranger
Both to my blood and favour.
Kent. This is frenzy .
Consider, good my liege,
Lear. Peace, Kent !
Come not between a dragon and his rage..
I lov'd her most, and in her tender trust
Design'd to have bestow'd mine age at ease .
So be my grave my peace, as here I give
My heart from her, and with it all my wealth !
B3
6 KING LEAR.
(Leargoes to Albany and Cornwall, and beckons
the Gentlemen who hold the Crown, R.H. They
advance a little towards the King.)
My lords of Cornwall and of Albany,
I do invest you jointly with full right
In this fair third, Cordelia's forfeit dow'r.
Mark me, my lords, observe our last resolve ;
Our self, attended by an hundred knights,
Will make abode with you in monthly course ;
The name alone of king remain with me,
Yours be the execution and revenues.
This is our final will ; and to confirm it,
This coronet part between you.
Kent. (Kneels.) Royal Lear,
Whom I have ever honour'd as my king,
Lov'd as my father, as my master follow'd,
And, as my patron, thought on in my pray❜rs,
Lear. Away ! the bow is bent, make from the
shaft.
Kent. (Rises.) No, let it fall, and drench within
my heart:
Be Kent unmannerly when Lear is mad ;
Thy youngest daughter——
Lear. On thy life no more.
Kent. What wilt thou do, old man ?
Lear. Out of my sight.
Kent. See better first.
Lear. Now, by the gods
Kent. Now, by the gods, rash king, thou swear'st
in vain.
(Lear, attempting to draw his sword, is pre
vented by Albany, who advances and lays his
hand on the King's left arm, and by Gloster,
who advances and lays his hand on the King's
right arm .)
Lear. Ha, traitor !
Kent. Do, kill thy physician, Lear ;
Strike thro' my throat ; yet with my latest breath
I'll thunder in thine ear my just complaint,
And tell thee to thy face that thou dost ill.
 KING LEAR . 7
Lear. Hear me, rash man ; on thine allegiance
hear me :
(Lear sheathes his half- drawn sword ; Albany
and Gloster retire to their places .)
Since thou hast striven to make us break our vow,
And prest between our sentence and our pow'r,
Which nor our nature, nor our place can bear,
We banish thee for ever from our sight
And kingdom : If, when three days are expir'd,
Thy hated trunk be found in our dominions ,
That moment is thy death. -Away !
(Lear turnsfrom Kent ; and beckoning Goneril,
Regan, Albany and Cornwall, to him, con
fers with them in the centre of the Stage till
Kent is gone.)
Kent. Why, fare thee well, king ; since thou art
resolv❜d ,
I take thee at thy word ; I will not stay
To see thy fall. The gods protect thee, maid,
That truly think'st, and hast most justly said.
Thus to new climates my old truth I bear ;
Friendship lives hence, and banishment is here.
[Exit, L.H.
Lear. Now, Burgundy, you see her price is fall'n ;
Yet, if the fondness of your passion still
Affect her as she stands, dow'rless, and lost
In our esteem , she's yours ; take her or leave her.
Burg. Pardon me, royal Lear, I but demand
The dow'r yourself propos'd, and here I take
Cordelia by the hand, duchess of Burgundy.
Lear. Then leave her, sir ; for, by a father's rage,
I tell you all her wealth.
(Cordelia throws herself at Lear'sfeet.)
Away ! Away ! Away ! (Flourish of Trumpets, &c.)
[Exeunt all but Cordelia, L.H.

Enter EDGAR, R.H.U.E.

Edg. Has heav'n then weigh'd the merit of my love,

Or is it the raving of a sickly thought ?
B 4
 8 KING LEAR .
Cou'd Burgundy forego so rich a prize,
And leave her to despairing Edgar's arms ?
(Raises Cordelia .)
Have I thy hand, Cordelia ? Do I clasp it ?
The hand that was this minute to have join'd
My hated rival's ? Do I kneel before thee,
And offer at thy feet my panting heart ?
Smile, Princess, and convince me ; for, as yet,
I doubt, and dare not trust my dazzling joy.
Cord. Some comfort yet, that ' twas no vicious blot
That has depriv'd me of a father's grace ;
But merely want of that that makes me rich
In wanting it ; a smooth professing tongue.
O sisters ! I am loth to call your fault
As it deserves ; but use our father well,
And wrong'd Cordelia never shall repine.
Edg. O heav'nly maid ! that art thyself thy dow'r,
Richer in virtue than the stars in light,
If Edgar's humble fortunes may be grac'd
With thy acceptance, at thy feet** he lays ' em.
Ha! my Cordelia, dost thou turn away?
What have I done t'offend thee ?
Cord . Talk'd of love.
Edg. Then I've offended oft ; Cordelia too
Has oft permitted me so to offend .
Cord. When, Edgar, I permitted your addresses,
I was the darling daughter of a King !
Nor can I now forget my royal birth,
And live dependent on my lover's fortune ;
I cannot to so low a fate submit ;
And therefore study to forget your passion,
And trouble me upon this theme no more.
(Crosses to R.H.)
Edg. Thus majesty takes most state in distress.
How are we tost on Fortune's fickle flood !
The wave that with surprising kindness brought
The dear wreck to my arms, has snatch'd it back,
And left me mourning on the barren shore.
Cord. This baseness of the ignoble Burgundy
Draws just suspicion on the race of men ;
 KING LEAR . 9.
His love was int'rest, so may Edgar's be ,
And he but with more compliment dissemble ;
If so, I shall oblige him by denying ;
But, if his love be fix'd, such constant flame
As warms my breast, if such I find his passion,
My heart as grateful to his truth shall be,
And cold Cordelia prove as kind as he.
[Exit, R.H.

Enter EDMUND, hastily, L.H.

Edm. Brother, I've found you in a lucky minute ;

Fly, and be safe : some villain has incens'd
Our father against your life.
Edg. Distrest Cordelia ! -but oh, more cruel !
Edm. Hear me, sir ; your life, your life's in danger.
'Wake, ' wake, sir.
Edg. Say you brother ?
No tears, good Edmund ; if thou bring'st me tidings
To strike me dead, for charity delay not ;
That present will befit so kind a hand.
Edm. Your danger, sir, comes on so fast,
That I want time t'inform you ; but retire,
Whilst I take care to turn the pressing stream.
O Gods ! for heaven's sake, sir,C
Edg. Pardon me, Edmund ;
But you talk'd ofdanger,
And wish'd me to retire .-Must all our vows
End thus ?-Friend, I obey you. - O Cordelia !
[Exit, R.H.
Edm. Ha ! ba ! Fond man ! Such credulous honesty
Lessens the glory of my artifice ;
His nature is so far from doing wrongs ,
That he suspects none :-(Takes out a Letter.) — If
this letter speed,
And pass for Edgar's, as himself would own
The counterfeit, but for the foul contents ,
Then my designs are perfect.Here comes Gloster .
(Attempts to hide the Letter.)
B 5
10 KING LEAR .

Enter GLOSTER, L.H.

Glost. Stay, Edmund , turn ; what paper were you

reading ?
Edm. A trifle , sir.
Glost. What needed then that terrible dispatch of it
Into your pocket ? Come, produce it, sir.
Edm. A letter from my brother, sir : I had
Just broke the seal, but know not the contents :
(Gives the Letter to Gloster.)
Yet, fearing they might prove to blame,
Endeavour'd to conceal it from your sight.
Glost. This is Edgar's character.

(Reads. )—This policy offathers is intolerable, that

keeps ourfortunes from us ' till age will not suffer
us to enjoy them ; I am weary of the tyranny. Come
to me, that ofthis I may speak more. If our father
would sleep till I waked him, you should enjoy half
his possessions, and live belov'd ofyour brother.

Sleep till I wak'd him, you should enjoy

Half his possessions ! Edgar to write this
'Gainst his indulgent father ! Death and hell !
(Crosses to R.H.)
Fly, Edmund, seek him out ; wind me into him, ( 1 )
That I may bite the traitor's heart, and fold
His bleeding entrails on my vengeful arm.
Edm. Perhaps ' twas writ, my lord, to prove my
virtue.
Glost. These late eclipses of the sun and moon
Can bode no less ; love cools, and friendship fails ;
In cities mutiny, in countries discord ;
The bond of nature crack'd ' twixt son and father.
Find out the villain ; do it carefully,
And it shall lose thee nothing. [ Exit, R.H.
Edm. So, now my project's firm ; but, to make
sure,

(1) Do me this.
 KING LEAR. 11

I'll throw in one proof more, and that a bold one ;

I'll place old Gloster where he shall o´er-hear us
Confer of this design ; whilst, to his thinking,
Deluded Edgar shall accuse himself.
Be honesty my int'rest, and I can v
Be honest too ; and what saint so divine,
That will successful villainy decline ? [ Exit, R.H.

SCENE III .- The Court before the Duke of

Albany's Palace.

Enter KENT, disguised, L.H.

Kent. Now, banish'd Kent, if thou can'st pay thy

duty,
In this disguise, where thou dost stand condemn'd,
Thy master Lear shall find thee full of labours .
(Retires a little, R.H.)

Enter KING LEAR , attended by his Physician, and

three Knights, L.H.

Lear. In there, and tell our daughter we are here.

[Exit 1st Knight, R.H.
Now, what art thou ? (Kent, advances, R.H.)
Kent. A man, sir.
Lear. What dost thou profess, or would'st with us ?
Kent. I do profess to be no less than I seem, to serve
him truly that puts me in trust, to love him that's ho
nest, to converse with him that's wise and speaks lit
tle, to fight when I can't choose, and to eat no fish.
Lear. I say, what art thou ?
Kent. A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as
the king .
Lear. If thou be as poor for a subject, as he is for
a king, thou art poor enough.- Dost thou know me,
fellow ?
Kent. No, sir ; but you have that in your counte
nance, which I would fain call master.
Lear. What's that ?
B 6
12 KING LEAR.
Kent. Authority.
Lear. What services can'st thou do ?
Kent. I can keep honest counsel, mar a curious tale
in the telling, deliver a plain message bluntly ; that
which ordinary men are fit for, I am qualified in ; and
the best of me, is diligence.
Lear. How old art thou ?
Kent. Not so young, sir, to love a woman for sing
ing ; nor so old, to dote on her for any thing : I have
years on my back forty eight.
Lear. Thy name ?
Kent. Caius.
Lear. Follow me ; thou shalt serve me.
(Kent goes to R.H. of 2d Knight.)

Enter OSWALD, L.H. singing, and passing King Lear

carelessly.
Now, sir ?
Osw. Sir - Tol de rol, &c. [ Exit singing, R.H.
Lear. What says the fellow ? call the clodpole back .
[Exeunt Kent and 2nd Knight, R.H.
3rd Knight. My lord, I know not ; but, methinks,
your highness is entertain'd with slender ceremony.
Lear. Say'st thou so ?
Thou but remember'st me of mine own conception .

Re-enter 1st KNIGHT, R.H.

Why came not that slave back when I call'd him ?

1st Knight. My lord, he answer'd i'th' surliest man
ner that he would not. (Goes to his former place.)
Lear. I hope our daughter did not so instruct him.

OSWALD brought in by KENT and 2nd KNIGHT, R.H.

1st and 2nd Knight go behind, L.H.-2nd Knight
goes to hisformer place.- Kent puts Oswald next
the King.

Now, who am I sir ?

Osw. My lady's father.
 KING LEAR . 13
Lear. My ladies father ! My lord's knave.
(Strikes him .)
Osw. I'll not be struck, my lord.
Kent. Nor tript, neither, you vile civet-box.
(Trips up his heels.)
Lear. I thank thee, fellow : thou serv'st me.
Kent. Come, sir, arise, away ; I'll teach you dif
ferences. [Exit Oswald, crying out, R.H.U.E.
(Kent pursues him with his staff till he is off the
Stage, then returns to the Knights, L.H.
Gon. (Within, R.H. ) By day and night ! this is in
sufferable ; I will not bear it.

Enter GONERIL , R.H. attended by Page and two

Ladies.

Lear. Now, daughter, why that frontlet on ?

Speak, does that frown become our presence ?
Gon. Sir, this licentious insolence of your servants
Is most unseemly : hourly they break out
In quarrels, bred by their unbounded riots ;
I had fair hope, by making this known to you,
To have had a quick redress ; but find too late
That you protect and countenance their outrage ;
And therefore, sir, I take this freedom, which
Necessity makes discreet.
Lear. Are you our daughter ?
Gon. Come, sir, let me intreat you to make use
Of your discretion, and put off betimes.
This disposition that of late transforms you
From what you rightly are.
Lear. Does any here know me ? Why, this is not
Lear!
Does Lear walk thus ? Speak thus ! Where are his
eyes ?
Who is it that can tell me who I am ?
Your name, fair gentlewoman ?
Gon. Come, sir, this admiration's much o'th' sa
vour(1 )
(1) Of the complexion .
14 KING LEAR .
Of other your new humours ; I beseech you
To understand my purposes aright ;
As you are old, you should be staid and wise :
Here do you keep an hundred knights and ' squires ,
Men so debauch'd and bold , that this our palace
Shews like a riotous inn, a ern, brothel :
Be then advis'd by her, that else will take
That which she begs, to lessen your attendants ;
Take half away, and see that the remainder
Be such as may befit your age, and know
Themselves and you.
Lear, Darkness and devils ! S
Saddle my horses, call my train together.
Degenerate viper !-I'll not stay with thee ;
I yet have left a daughter- Serpent ! Monster !
Lessen my train, and call ' em riotous !
All men approv'd , of choice and rarest parts,
g
That each particular of duty know.-
How small, Cordelia, was thy fault ?-O Lear,
Beat at this gate- ( Strikes his head .) —that let thy
folly in,
And thy dear judgment out ! -Go, go, my people.

Enter ALBANY, L.H.

Ingrateful Duke ! -Prepare my horses . - Was this

your will ?
Who stirs ! [ Exit Knight, L, H.
Alb. What, sir ?
Lear. Death ! fifty of my followers at a clap ?
Alb. The matter, madam ? (To Goneril.)
Gon . Never afflict yourself to know the cause,
But give his dotage way.
Lear. Blasts upon thee !
Th' untented woundings of a father's curse
Pierce every sense about thee ! -Old fond eyes,
Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck ye out,
And cast ye, with the waters that ye lose,
To temper clay.- No, Gorgon ;-thou shalt find
 KING LEAR. 15

That I'll resume the shape, which thou dost think

I have cast off for ever.
Gon. Mark ye that ?
Alb. I'm ignorant,
Lear. It may be so , my lord , (Lear throws away
his hat and staff as he falls on his knees.)
Hear, nature, hear ;
Dear goddess, hear ! Suspend thy purpose, if
Thou did'st intend to make this creature fruitful !
Into her womb convey sterility !
Dry up in her the organs of increase ;
That from her derogate ( 1 ) hody never spring
A babe to honour her- If she must teem,
Create her child of spleen ; that it may live,
And be a thwart disnatur'd (2 ) torment to her !
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth ;
With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks :
Turn all her mother's pains, and benefits, (S)
To laughter and contempt ; that she may feel,
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is,
To have a thankless child ! (Rises) Away, away !
(Kent and the Physician raise the king and
bear him away . The 1st. knight takes up
his hat and staff. )
[Exeunt King Lear and his attendants, L.H. ➖➖➖➖
Albany, Goneril, and their attendants, R.H.
END OF ACT I.

ACT II.

SCENE I.- The Earl of Gloster's Castle.

Enter EDMUND, L.H.

Edm. The duke comes here to night ; I'll take ad
vantage

(1) Degraded ; blasted .

(2) Wanting natural affection.
(3) Good offices.
16 KING LEAR.

Of this arrival to complete my project.-- (Knocks, M.D. )

Brother, a word ; come forth ; it's I, your friend !

Enter EDGAR, M.D. (Comes forward, R.H.)

My father watches for you, fly this place ;

Intelligence is giv'n where you are hid!
Take the advantage of the night.- Bethink,
Have you not spoke against the Duke of Cornwall.
Something might shew you a favourer of
Duke Albany's party ?
Edg. Nothing ; why ask you ?
Edm. Because he's coming here to night in haste,
And Regan with him.
Edg. Let him come on ; I'll stay and clear myself.
Edm. Your innocence at leisure may be heard,
But Gloster's storming rage as yet is deaf,
And you may perish ere allow'd the hearing. ( Gloster
without, L.B.) This way, this way.
I hear our father coming-Pardon me :
In cunning I must draw my sword upon you :S
Draw : seem to defend yourself; (they draw and fight.)
now quit you well .
Yield : come before my father ; help, ho, here !
Fly, brother ;-help, here, help ! -Farewell, farewell.
[ Exit Edgar, R.H.
Some blood drawn on me wou'd beget opinion
Of our more fierce encounter I have seen
Drunkards do more than this in sport.
(Stabs himself in the arm. )

Enter GLOSTER and Servants, L.H. with torches.

Glost. Now, Edmund, where's the traitor ?

Edm. Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out,
Mumbling of wicked charms, -(Sheathes his sword.)
Glost. But where is he ?
Edm. Look, sir, I bleed !
(Wraps his arm up in his handkerchief.)
 KING LEAR . 17
.. Where is the villain , Edmund ?
Edm. Sir, he is fled. When by no means he could
Glost. By no means, what ?
Edm. Persuade me to the murder of your lordship ;
But that I told him the revenging Gods
'Gainst parricides did all their thunders bend ;
Spoke with how manifold and strong a bond
The child was bound to the father ;-sir, in fine,
Seeing how loathly opposite I stood
To this unnatural purpose, in fell motion,
With his prepared sword, he charges home
My unprovided body, lanc'd mine arm :
But when he saw my best alarum'd spirits,
Bold in the quarrel's right, rous'd to the encounter,
Or whether gasted ( 1 ) by the noise I made,
Full suddenly he fled.
Glost. Let him fly far, this kingdom shall not hide
him .
The noble duke my patron comes to night ;
By his authority I will proclaim
Rewards for him that brings him to the stake,
And death for the concealer ;
Then of my lands, loyal and natural boy,
I'll work the means to make thee capable. (2)
[ Exeunt, L.H.

SCENE II.- The Gates of Gloster's Castle.

Enter KENT, R.H. in disguise, and OSWALD, L.H,

Osw. Good morrow, friend ; belong'st thou to this

house ?
Kent. Ask them will answer thee.
Osw. Where may we set our horses ?
Kent. I'th'mire.

(1) Frighted.
(2) Capable of succeeding to my land, notwithstanding the legal
bar to thy illegitimacy.
18 KING LEAR . "
Osw. I am in haste, pr'y thee, an'thou lov'st me,
tell me .
Kent. I love thee not.
Osw . Why then, I care not for thee.
Kent. An I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, ( 1 ) I'd
make thee care for me.
Osw. What dost thou mean ? I know thee not.
Kent. But, minion , I know thee.
Osw. What dost thou know me for ?
Kent. For a base, proud, beggarly, white liver'd,
glass -gazing, super- serviceable , finical rogue ; one that
wou'd be a pimp in way of good service, and art no
thing but a composition of knave, beggar, coward,
pander, -
Osw. What a monstrous fellow art thou, to rail at
one that is neither known of thee, nor knows thee ?
Kent. Impudent slave ! not know me, who but two
days since, tript up thy heels before the king ? Draw,
miscreant, or I'll make the moon shine through thee.
(Draws his sword.)
Osw. What means the fellow? I tell thee, I have
nothing to do with thee.
Kent. Draw, you rascal . I know your rogueship's
office : you come with letters against the king, taking
my young lady Vanity's part against her royal father :
Draw, rascal.
Osw. Murder, murder, help .
[Exit, Kent after him, R.H.S.E.

Flourish of Trumpets. Enter DUKE of CORNWALL,

REGAN, Captain of the Guard, Attendants,
GLOSTER and EDMUND, from the Gates, L.H.

Glost. All welcome to your graces, you do me

honour.
Corn. Gloster, we have heard with sorrow that your
life

(1) Lipsbury Pinfold may be a cant expression importing the

same as Lob's Pound.-A pinfold is a pound.
 KING LEAR. 19
Has been attempted by your impious son.
But Edmund here has paid you strictest duty.
Glost. He did bewray( 1 ) his practice, and receiv'd
The hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.
Corn. Is he pursued ?
Glost. He is, my Lord.
Reg. Use our authority to apprehend
The traitor, and do justice on his head.
For you, Edmund, that have signaliz'd
Your virtue, you from henceforth shall be ours ;
Natures of such firm trust we much shall need .
A charming youth, and worth my farther thought !
(Aside.)
Corn. Lay comfort, noble Gloster, to your breast,
As we to ours. This night be spent in revels.
We choose you, Gloster, for our host to- night,
A troublesome expression of our love.
On, to the sports before us ! (Noise within, R.H. )
Who are these ?

Enter OSWALD , pursued by Kent. Oswald crying

out for help, runs across the stage to L.H. The
Captain of Guard draws his sword, L.H. stops.
Kent, R.H. and then retires a little to R.H.

Glost. Now, what's the matter?

Corn. Keep peace, upon your lives ; he dies that
strikes.
Whence, and what are ye?
Reg. The messengers from our sister, and the king.
Corn. Your difference ? speak.
Osw . I'm scarce in breath, my lord.
Kent. No marvel, you have so bestir'd your valour.
Nature disclaims the dastard ; a taylor made him.
Corn. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel ?
Osw. Sir, this old ruffian here, whose life I spar'd
-
In pity to his beard,
Kent, Thou Essence bottle !

(2) Betray.
20 KING LEAR .
In pity to my beard ! Your leave, my lord,
And I will tread the musk-cat into mortar.
Corn. Know'st thou our presence ?
Kent. Yes, sir, but anger has a privilege.
Corn. Why art thou angry?
Kent. That such a slave as this should wear a sword,
And have no courage ; office , and no honesty ;
Not frost and fire hold more antipathy
Than I and such a knave ?
Glost. Why dost thou call him knave ?
Kent. His countenance likes me not. ( 1 )
Corn. No more, perhaps, does mine, nor his, or hers.
Kent. Plain dealing is my trade ; and, to be plain, sir,
I have seen better faces in my time,
Than stand on any shoulders now before me.
Reg. This is some fellow, that having once been
prais'd
For bluntness, since affects a saucy rudeness :
But I have known one of these surly knaves,
That in his plainness harbour'd more design
Than twenty cringing complimenting minions.
Corn. What's the offence you gave him ?
Osw. Never any, sir ;
It pleas'd the king, his master, lately
To strike me on a slender misconstruction ;
Whilst, watching his advantage, this old lurcher
Tript me behind, for which the king extoll'd him ;
And, flush'd with the honour of this bold exploit,
Drew on me here again.
Corn Bring forth the stocks ; (Two guards exeunt
at the gate.) we'll teach you.
Kent. Sir, I'm too old to learn ;
Call not the stocks for me ; I serve the king.
On whose employment I was sent to you :
You'll shew too small respect, and too bold malice
Against the person of my royal master,
Stocking his messenger.
(Re-enter two guards, they bringforth the Stocks,
and seat, which they place R.H. of the gates.)

(1) Pleases me not.

 KING LEAR . 21
Corn. Bring forth the stocks ; as I have life and honor,
There shall he sit till noon . (Guards seize Kent.)
Reg. Till noon, my Lord ! Till night, and all night
too .
Kent. Why, madam, if I were your father's dog,
You would not use me so .
Reg. Sir, being his knave, I will.
(Captain signs the Guard, who lead Kent away,
and put him in the Stocks.)
Glost. Let me beseech your graces to forbear him ;
His fault is much, and the good king, his master,
Will check him for't : but needs must take it ill
To be thus slighted in his messenger .
Gon. We'll answer that;
Our sister may receive it worse to have
Her gentleman assaulted. To our business, lead.
(Flourish.- Exeunt all but Gloster and Oswald
into the Castle.)
Glost. I am sorry for thee, friend ; ' tis the duke's
pleasure,
Whose disposition will not be controuled.
But I'll intreat for thee.
Kent. Pray do not, sir.
I have watch'd and travell'd hard ;
Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle :
Farewell t'ye, sir. [Exit Gloster, into the Castle.
(Oswald remains on the stage to indulge a few
vapouring antics with Kent, and then follows
Gloster into the Castle.)
Good King, that must approve the common saw!
Thou out of heaven's benediction com'st
To the warm sun.-All weary and o'erwatch'd ,
I feel the drowsy guest steal on me ; take
Advantage, heavy eyes, of this kind of slumber,
Not to behold this vile and shameful lodging.
(Steeps .)
SCENEȚIII.— A Forest.
Enter EDGAR, L.H. muffled up.
Edg. I heard myself proclaim'd,
22 KING LEAR .

And, by the friendly hollow of a tree,

Escap'd the hunt. No port is free, no place,
Where guards and most unusual vigilance
Do not attend to take me.-A How easy now
"Twere to defeat the malice of my trial,
And leave my griefs on my sword's reeking point ;
But love detains me from death's peaceful cell ,
Still whispering me, Cordelia's in distress :
Unkind as she is, I cannot see her wretched,
But must be near to wait upon her fortune.
Who knows but the blest minute yet may come,
When Edgar may do service to Cordelia ?
That charming hope still ties me to the oar
Of painful life, and makes me too submit,
To th' humblest shifts to keep, that life a-foot.
My face I will besmear, and knit my locks ;
The country gives me proof and precedent
Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices,
Strike in their numb'd and mortify'd bare arms
Pins, iron spikes, thorns, sprigs of rosemary :
And thus from sheep- cotes, villages and mills,
Sometimes with pray'rs, sometimes with lunatick
bans, ( 1 )
Enforce their charity. Poor Turlygood ! poor Tom ! (2)
That's something yet. Edgar I am no more.
[ Exit, R.H.

SCENE IV. Before the Earl of Gloster's Castle.

KENT, discovered, in the stocks.- (Flourish of

Drums and Trumpets , L.H.)

Enter KING LEAR, his Knights, and Physician, L.H.

Lear. 'Tis strange, that they should so depart from

home,

(1) To ban, is to curse.

(2) We should read , Turlupin. In the fourteenth century there
was a new species of gipsies called Turlupins, a fraternity ofnaked
beggars, which ran up and down Europe.
 KING LEAR. 23
And not send back our messenger.
Kent. Hail, noble master !
Lear. How ! mak'st thou this shame thy pastime ?
What's he that has so much mistook thy place,
To set thee here ?
Kent. It is both he and she, sir ; your son and
daughter.
Lear. No.
Kent. Yes.
Lear. No, I say .
Kent . I say , yea .
Lear. They durst not do't ;
They could not, would not do't.
Resolve me with all modest haste, which way
Thou may'st deserve , or they impose this usage.
Kent. My Lord, when at their home
I did commend your Highness' letters to them,
Ere I was ris'n, arrived another post,
Stew'd in his haste, breathless and panting forth .
From Goneril, his mistress, salutations ;
Whose message being deliver'd , they took horse,
Commanding me to follow, and attend
The leisure of their answer ; which I did :
But meeting here that other messenger,
Whose welcome I perceiv'd had poison'd mine ,
Being the very fellow that of late
Had shewn such rudeness to your highness, I ,
Having more man than wit about me, drew ;
On which he rais'd the house with coward cries :
This was the trespass, which your son and daughter
Though worth the shame you see it suffer here.
Lear. Oh ! this spleen swells upwards to my heart,
And heaves for passage ! -Down, thou climbing rage,
Thy element's below. Where is this daughter?

Enter GLOSTER, from the Castle, he advances L.B.

Kent. Within, sir, at a masque.

Lear. Now, Gloster ?-Ha !
(Gloster whispers Lear.)
 24 KING LEAR .
Deny to speak with me ? Th'are sick, th'are weary,
They've travell'd hard to-night ? -Mere fetches, sir ;
Bring me a better answer.
Glost. My dear lord,
You know the fiery quality of the duke
Lear. Vengeance ! death ! plague ! confusion !
Fiery ? What quality ?-Why, Gloster, Gloster,
I'd speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife.
Glost. I have inform'd them so.
Lear. Inform'd them? dost thou understand me,
man ?
I tell thee, Gloster,
Glost. Ay, my good lord.
Lear. The king would speak with Cornwall ; the
dear father
Would with his daughter speak, commands her service.
Are they inform'd of this ? My breath and blood !
▬▬▬
Fiery ? The fiery duke ?-Tell the hot duke,
No, but not yet ; may be, he is not well ;
Infirmity doth still neglect all office ;
I beg his pardon, and I'll chide my rashness
That took the indispos'd and sickly fit
For the sound man.-But wherefore sits he there ?
Death on my state ! This act convinces me
(Pointing to the Stocks.)
That this retiredness of the duke and her
Is plain contempt.- Give me my servant forth.
Go, tell the duke and's wife I'd speak with ' em,
Now, instantly. - Bid ' em come forth and hear
me ;
Or at their chamber door I'll beat the drum,
'Till it cry, Sleep to death .

Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, Page, two Soldiers,

Captain ofthe Guard, and Guards, from the
Castle, L.H.

Oh ! are you come ?

Corn. Health to the king!
Reg. I am glad to see your highness .
Lear. Regan, I think you are : I know what cause
 KING LEAR. 25
I have to think so . Should'st thou not be glad,
I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb,
--
Sepulch'ring an adultress.
(Cornwall signs to Capt. of Guard, Captain to
the two Guards- they set Kent at liberty,
who goes to R.H. of Physician, behind the
King.)
Beloved Regan, thou wilt shake to hear
What I shall utter ;-thou cou'd'st ne'er ha' thought
it ;
Thy sister's naught : O Regan ! she hath tied
Ingratitude like a keen vulture, here ;
I scarce can speak to thee.
Reg. I pray you, sir, take patience ; I have hope
That you know less to value her desert,
Than she to slack her duty.
Lear. Ha ! How's that ?
Reg. I cannot think my sister in the least
Would fail in her respects, but if, perchance,
She has restrain'd the riots of your followers ,
'Tis on such grounds, and to such wholesome ends,
As clear her from all blame.
Lear. My curses on her !
Reg. O sir ! you're old,
And shou'd content you to be rul'd and led
By some discretion that discerns your state
Better than you yourself; therefore, good sir,
Return to our sister, and say you have wrong'd her.
Lear. Ha! ask her forgiveness !
Do you but mark how this becomes the house : ( 1 )
(Kneeling.)
Dear daughter, I confess that I am old :
Age is unnecessary ; ( 2) on my knees I beg,
That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.
Reg. Good sir, no more of these unsightly passions ;
Return back to our sister.
Lear. Never, Regan ; (Rises. )
She hath abated me of half my train ,
(1) The order of families, duties of relation .
(2) Old age has few wants.
с
26 KING LEAR .
Look'd black upon me, stabb'd me with her tongue
All the stor❜d vengeances of heav'n fall
On her ingrateful head ! Strike her young bones,
Ye taking airs, with lameness !
Reg. O the blest gods ! thus will you wish on me,
When the rash mood
Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse ;
Thy tender nature cannot give thee o'er
To such impiety : thou better know'st
The offices of nature, bond of childhood,
And dues of gratitude ; thou bear'st in mind
The half o'th' kingdom, which our love conferred
On thee and thine.
Reg. Good sir, to th' purpose.
Lear. Who put my man i'th' stocks ?
(Trumpet sounds, L.H. )
Corn. What trumpet's that ?
Reg. I know't, my sister's ; ( 1 ) this confirms her`
letters.

Enter OSWALD, L.H.

Sir, is your lady come ?

Lear. More torture still !
Out, varlet, from my sight !
(Strikes Oswald : who runs off crying, R.B.U.E.)
Carn. What means your grace ?
Lear. Who stock'd my servant ? Regan, I have
hope
Thou didst not know it. (Trumpet sounds.)

Enter GONERIL, Page, and two Ladies, L.H.

Who comes here ? Oh, heav'ns !

If you do love old men ; if your sweet sway
Allow obedience ; if yourselves are old,

( 1 ) It seems from this passage, that the approach of great per

sonages was announced by some distinguishing note or tune appro
priately used by their own trumpeters.
 KING LEAR . 27
Make it your cause ; (To Goneril :) send down, and
take my part ! (Crosses to R.H. ) ·
Why, Gorgon, dost thou come to haunt me here ?
(To Goneril.)
Art not asham'd to look upon this beard ?- (Regan
takes Goneril by the hand.)
Darkness upon my eyes, they play me false ! —
O Regan ! wilt thou take her by the hand ?
Gon. Why not by th' hand, sir ? How have I
offended ?
All's not offence that indiscretion finds, ( 1 )
And dotage terms so.
Lear. Heart, thou art too tough !
Reg. I pray you, sir, being old, confess you are so .
If, till the expiration of your month,
You will return, and sojourn with our sister,
Dismissing half your train, come then to me ;
I'm now from home, and out of that provision
That shall be needful for your entertainment .
Lear. Return with her, and fifty knights dis
miss'd ?
No, rather I'll abjure all roofs, and choose
To be companion to the midnight wolf,
My naked head expos'd to th' merciless air,
Than have my smallest wants supply'd by her.
Gon. At your choice, sir.
Lear. Now, I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me
mad !
I will not trouble thee, my child ; farewell ;
Let shame come when it will, I do not call it ;
I do not bid the thunder-bearer strike,
Nor tell tales of thee to avenging heaven.
Mend when thou canst ; be better at thy leisure ;
I can be patient, I can stay with Regan,
I; and my hundred knights.
Reg. Your pardon, sir ;
I looked not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welwelcome.
(1) Finds is here used in the same sense as when a jury is said
to find a bill.
C2
28 KING LEAR .
Lear. Is this well spoken now ?
Reg. My sister treats you fair. What ! fifty followers ?
Is it not well ? What should you need of more ?
Gon. Why might not you, my lord , receive attendance
From those whom she calls servants, or from mine ?
Reg. Why not, my lord ? If then they chance to
slack you,
We could control them.- If you come to me,
For now I see the danger, I intreat you
To bring but five-and -twenty ; to no more
Will I give place.
Lear. I gave you all !
Reg. And in good time you gave it.
Lear. Hold now, my temper, stand this bolt un
mov'd,
And I am thunder-proof. (It begins to rain . )
Gon. Hear me, my lord .
What need you five-and- twenty, ten, or five,
To follow in a house, where twice so many
Have a command t'attend you ?
Reg. What need one ? (Distant thunder.)
Lear. Heav'ns, drop your patience down !
You see me here, ye gods, a poor old man,
As full of grief as age, wretched in both !
If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts
Against their father, fool me not so much
To bear it tamely ; touch me with noble anger !
O, let not women's weapons , water drops,
Stain my man's cheek !—No, you unnatural hags,
I will have such revenges on you both,
That all the world shall- I will do such things,
What they are, yet I know not ; but they shall be
The terrors of the earth.-(Crosses to L.H .)- You
think I'll weep ;
No , I'll not weep : -
I have full cause of weeping ; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, ( 1 )
(1) A flaw, signifying a crack, or other similar imperfection.
Our author, with his accustomed license, uses the word here for a
small broken particle.
 KING LEAR. 29
Or ere I'll weep. (Rain and thunder. )
O, gods , I shall go mad !
[ Exeunt, King Lear, Kent, and the Knights,
L.H.- Cornwall, Regan, Goneril, Gloster, Os
wald, Captain of the Guard, and Attendants,
into the Castle.

END OF ACT II.

ACT III.

SCENE I - A Desert Heath.

(Lamps down.- Rain, thunder, and lightning.)

Enter LEAR and KENT, L.H.S.E.

Lear. Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks ! rage !

blow !
You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout
"Till you have drench'd our steeples !
You sulph'rous and thought-executing ( 1 ) fires,
Vaunt couriers(2) to oak- cleaving thunder-bolts,
Singe my white head ! And thou, all shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's moulds , all germens spill at once, (3)
That make ingrateful man !
Kent. Not all my best intreaties can persuade him
Into some needful shelter, or to 'bide
This poor slight cov'ring on his aged head,
Exposed to this wild war of earth and heav'n.
(Thunder, lightning, and rain. )
Lear. Rumble thy fill ! fight whirlwind, rain, and
fire !
(1) Doing execution with rapidity equal to thought.
(2) Avant couriers. Fr. This phrase is not unfamiliar to other
writers of Shakspeare's tinie. It originally meant the foremost
scouts of an army.
(3) Crack nature's mould, and all the seeds of matter, that are
hoarded within it.-To spill is to destroy.
с3
 30 KING LEAR.
Not fire, wind, rain , or thunder, are my daughters :
I tax not you, ye elements, with unkindness ;
I never gave you kingdoms, called you children ;
You owe me no obedience.-Then let fall
Your horrible pleasure !-Here I stand your slave,
A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man. ――
(Rain, thunder, and lightning.)
Yet I will call you servile ministers,
That have with two pernicious daughters join'd
Your high engender'd battle ' gainst a head
So old and white as this. Oh ! oh ! ' tis foul ! ( 1 )
Kent. Hard by, sir, is a hovel, that will lend
Some shelter from this tempest.
Lear. I will forget my nature . What ! so kind a
father !
Ay, there's the point. (Rain, thunder, and lightning.)
Kent. Consider, good my liege, things that love
night,
Love not such nights as this ; these wrathful skies
Gallow (2 ) the very wanderers of the dark,
And make them keep their caves : such drenching rain,
Such sheets of fire, such claps of horrid thunder,
Such groans of roaring winds, have ne'er been known.
(Thunder very loud.)
Lear. Let the great gods,
That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads,
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch,
That hast within thee undiscovered crimes !
Hide, hide, thou murd'rer, hide thy bloody hand !—
Thou perjur'd villain, holy hypocrite,
That drink'st the widow's tears, sigh now, and ask
These dreadful summoners (3) grace ! —I am a man
More sinn'd against, than sinning. (Crosses to R.H.)
Kent. Good sir, to th' hovel .
Lear. My wits begin to turn.
Come on, my boy ; How dost, my boy ? art cold ?

(1 ) Shameful ; dishonourable.
(2) Gallow, a west country word, signifies to scare or frighten.
(3) Summoners are here the officers that summon offenders be
fore a proper tribunal.
 KING LEAR. 31
I'm cold myself: shew me this straw, my fellow ;
The art of our necessity is strange,
And can make vile things precious- My poor knave,
Cold as I am at heart, I've one place there
That's sorry yet for thee.
(Rain- Thunder- Lightning.— Exeunt, R.H. )

SCENE II.- A Room in Gloster's Castle.

Enter EDMUND, R.H.

Edm. The storm is in our louder rev'lings drown'd.

Thus wou'd I reign, coúld I but mount a throne.
The riots of these proud imperial sisters
Already have impos'd the galling yoke
Of taxes, and hard impositions, on
The drudging peasant's neck, who bellows out
His loud complaints in vain.-Triumphant queens !
With what assurance do they tread the crowd!
Oh ! for a taste of such majestic beauty,
Which none but my hot veins are fit t'engage :
Nor are my wishes desp'rate ; for ev'n now,
During the banquet, I observ'd their glances
Shot thick at me ; and, as they left the room,
Each cast, by stealth, a kind inviting smile,
The happy earnest- ha !

Enter two Pages, from different entrances, they

deliver him each a letter, and Exeunt, R.H.
and L.H.

(Reads .)-Where merit is so transparent, not to

behold it were, blindness, and not to reward it, ingra
titude. GONERIL .

Enough ! blind and ungrateful should I be,

Not to obey the summons of this oracle.
Now for the second letter.

(Reads.)-If modesty be not your enemy, doubt

not to find me yourfriend. REGAN.
C4
32 KING LEAR .

Excellent Sibil ! O my glowing blood !

I am already sick with expectation ,
And pant for the possession .- Here Gloster comes,
With business on his brow ; be hush'd, my joys .

Enter GLOSTER, L.H ,

Glost. I come to seek thee , Edmund, to impart a

business of importance . I know thy loyal heart is
touched to see the cruelty of these ungrateful daughters
against our royal master.
Edm. Most savage and unnatural .
Glost. This change in the state sits uneasy. The
commons repine aloud at their female tyrants ; already
they cry out for the re-instalment of their good old
king, whose injuries, I fear, will inflame them into
mutiny.
Edm. 'Tis to be hop'd not feared.
Glost. Thou hast it, boy ; ' tis to be hop'd indeed .
On me they cast their eyes , and hourly court me
To lead them on ; and, whilst this head is mine,
I'm theirs. A little covert craft, my boy,
And then for open action ; 'twill be employment
Worthy such honest daring souls as thine.
Thou, Edmund, art my trusty emissary.
Haste on the spur, at the first break of day,
With these dispatches to the Duke of Cambray.
(Gives him letters .)
You know what mortal feuds have always flam'd
Between this Duke of Cornwall's family, and his ;
Full twenty thousand hardy mountaineers
Th' inveterate prince will send to our assistance.
Despatch ; commend us to his grace, and prosper.
[ Exit, L.H.
Edm. Yes, credulous old man,
I will commend you to his grace,
His grace the Duke of Cornwall :-instantly,
I'll shew him these contents in thy own character,
And seal'd with thy own signet; then forthwith
The chol'ric duke gives sentence on thy life
 KING LEAR . 33

And to my hand thy vast revenues fall ,

To glut my pleasures that ' till now have starv'd .
(Retires.)

GLOSTERreturns, L.H.followed byCORDELIA and ARAN

THE,poorly dressed; Edmund observing at a distance.

Cord. Turn, Gloster, turn ; by all the sacred pow'rs

1 do conjure you , give my griefs a hearing : (Kneels.)
You must, you shall , nay, I am sure you will ;
For you were always stil'd the just and good .
Glost. What would'st thou, princess ? Rise, and
speak thy griefs.
Cord. Nay, you shall promise to redress ' em to,
Or here I kneel for ever. I entreat
Thy succour for a father, and a king.
An injur'd father, and an injur'd king.
Edm. O charming sorrow ! How her tears adorn
her ! (Aside.)
Glost. Consider princess, (Raises her.)
For whom thou begg'st, ' tis for the king that wrong'd
thee.
Cord. O name not that ; he did not, could not
wrong me.
Nay, muse not, Gloster ; for it is too likely
The injur'd king ere this is past your aid,
And gone distracted with his savage wrongs.
Edm . I'll gaze no more ; -and yet my eyes are
charm'd. (Aside . )
Cord. Or, what if it be worse ? -Can there be worse ?
Ab, ' tis too probable, this furious night
Has pierc'd his tender body ; the bleak winds
And cold rain chill'd , or lightning struck him dead ;
If it be so, your promise is discharg'd,
And I have only one poor boon to beg ;
That you convey me to his breathless trunk,
With my torn robes to wrap his hoary head,
With my torn hair to bind his hands and feet,
Then with a show'r of tears
To wash his clay-smear'd cheeks, and die beside him .
C5
34 KING LEAR .
Glost. Oh, fair Cordelia, thou hast piety
Enough t'atone for both thy sisters' crimes ;
I have already plotted to restore
My injur'd master, and thy virtue tells me
We shall succeed, and suddenly. [Exit, R.H.
Cord. Dispatch , Aranthe ;
For in this disguise , we'll instantly
Go seek the king, and bring him some relief.
(Crosses to L.H. )
Ar. How, madam ! are you ignorant
That your most impious sisters have decreed
Immediate death for any that relieve him ?
Cord, I cannot dread the furies in this cause.
Ar. In such a night as this ! Consider, madam ,
For many miles about there's scarce a bush
To shelter in.
Cord. Therefore no shelter for the king,
And more our charity to find him out.
What have not women dar'd for vicious love ?
And we'll be shining proofs that they can dare
For piety as much . (Thunder.)
Blow winds, and lightnings fall ;
Bold in my virgin innocence I'll fly,
My royal father to relieve or die.
[Exeunt, Cordelia and Aranthe, L.H.
Edm. " In this disguise, we'll instantly
Go seek the king !"--Ha ! ha ! a lucky change :
That virtue which I fear'd would be my hind'rance,
Has prov'd the bawd to my design.
I'll bribe two ruffians shall at distance follow,
And seize them in some desert place ; and there
Whilst one retains her, t'other shall return
T'inform me where she's lodg'd : I'll be disguis'd
too.
Whilst they are poaching for me, I'll to the duke
With these dispatches ; then to the field,
Where, like the vig'rous Jove, I will enjoy
This Semele in a storm ; ' twill deaf her cries,
Like drums in battle, lest her groans should pierce
My pitying ear, and make the am'rous fight less fierce.
[ Exit, L.H.
 KING LEAR. 35

SCENE III .-Another part of the Heath.- Rain.—

Thunder -Lightning.
Enter KING LEAR and KENT, L.H.

Kent. Here is the place, my lord ; good, my lord,

enter :
The tyranny of this open night's too rough
For nature to endure. (Storm increases.)
Lear. Let me alone.
Kent. Good, my lord, enter ?
Lear. Wilt break my heart ?
Kent. I'd rather break my own.
Lear. Thou think'st ' tis much that this contentious
storm
Invades us to the skin ; so ' tis to thee ;
But where the greater malady is fixt,
The lesser is scarce felt : ( 1)-The tempest in my mind
Doth from my senses take all feeling else,
Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude !
Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand
For lifting food to't ? --But I'll punish home !
No, I will weep no more.
(Rain.― Thunder.—Lightning.)
In such a night
To shut me out !--Pour on, I will endure
In such a night as this ! O Regan, Goneril !
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all
Oh, that way madness lies ! let me shun that ;
No more of that. (Crosses to R.H. )
Kent. See, my lord , here's the entrance.
Léar. Well, I'll go in.
And pass it all ; I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.
(Thunder.)
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That ' bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides

(1) But where the greater malady is fix'd, the lesser is scarce
felt, that of two concomitant pains, the greater obscures or relieves
the less, is an aphorism of Hippocrates. See Disquisitions, Meta
physical and Literary, by F. Sayers, M.D. 1793, p. 68.
c6
 I

36 KING LEAR .
Sustain this shock ; your raggedness defend you
From seasons such as these ? Oh, I have ta'en
Too little care of this. Take physic, pomp ;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou may'st cast the superflux to them,
And shew the heav'ns more just !
Edg. (In the Hovel . R.H.U.E. throwing out Straw.)
Five fathom and a half.- Poor Tom !
Kent. What art thou that dost grumble there i'th'
straw ? Come forth .

Enter EDGAR, disguised, from the Hovel, R.H.U.E ..

Advances , R.H.

Edg. Away ! the foul fiend follows me-Through

the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind-Mum, go to
thy bed and warm thee- Ha ! what do I see ?
By all my griefs, the poor old king bare- headed ,
And drench'din this foul storm ! Professing Syrens,
Are all your protestations come to this ? (Aside.)
Lear. Tell me, fellow, didst thou give all to thy
two daughters ? (Crosses to Edgar.)
Edg. Who gives any thing to poor Tom , whom the
foul tiend has led through fire and through flame, (1)
through bushes and bogs ; that has laid knives under
his pillow, and halters in his pew ; that has made him
proud of heart to ride on a bay trotting horse over
four- inch'd bridges, to course his own shadow for a
traitor ?-Bless thy five wits ! (2 ) Tom's a- cold . Bless
thee from whirlwinds, star- blasting, and taking ! (3) —
Do poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes.
Sa, sa ; there I could have him now, and there, and
there again. (Strikes with his Staff )
Lear. What, have his daughters brought him to this
pass ! Could'st thou save nothing ? Didst thou give
them all ?

(1) Alluding to the ignis fatuus, supposed to belights kindled

by mischievous beings to lead travellers into destruction ,
(2) So the five senses were called by our old writers.
(3) To take, is to blast, or strike with malignant influence.
 KING LEAR . 37
Kent. He has no daughter, sir.
Lear. Death ! traitor, nothing could have subdu'd
nature
To such a lowness, but his unkind daughters .
Edg. Pillicock sat upon pillicock hill ; hallo, hallo,
hallo.
Lear. Is it the fashion that discarded fathers
Should have such little mercy on their flesh ?
Judicious punishment ! "Twas this flesh begot
Those pelican ( 1 ) daughters.
Edg. Take heed of the foul fiend ; obey thy pa
rents ; keep thy word justly ; swear not commit not
with man's sworn spouse : set not thy sweet heart on
proud array. (Wind and rain. ) Tom's a cold.
Lear. What hast thou been ?
Edg. A serving-man, proud of heart ; that curl'd
my hair ; used perfume and washes ; that served the
lust of my mistress's heart, and did the act of darkness
with her ; swore as many oaths as I spoke words ; and
broke them all in the sweet face of heaven : Let not
the paint, nor the patch, nor the rustling of silks, be
tray thy poor heart to woman ; keep thy foot out of
brothels, thy hand out of plackets, (2) thy pen from
creditor's books, and defy the foul fiend . (Wind. )
Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind. -
Ha, no nonny, dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa ; let
him trot by.
Lear. Death ! thou wert better in thy grave, than
thus to answer with thy uncovered body this extremity
of the sky. Yet consider him well, and man's no
more than this ; thou art indebted to the worm for no
silk, to the beast for no hide, to the cat for no per
fume.- -Ha ! here's two of us are sophisticated :
thou art the thing itself ; unaccommodated man is
no more than such a poor, bare, forked , animal as
thou art.
Off, off, ye vain disguises, empty lendings,
I'll be my original self ; quick, quick, uncase me.
(1) The young pelican is fabled to suck the mother's blood.
(2) A placket is a stomacher.
38 KING LEAR.
Kent. Defend his wits , good heaven !
Lear. One point I had forgot ; what is your name ?
Edg. Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the
wall-newt and the water-newt ; that in the fury of
his heart, when the foul fiend rages , eats cow- dung
for sallads, swallows the old rat and the ditch- dog ;
that drinks the green mantle of the standing pool ;
that's whipt from tything to tything ; ( 1 ) that has
three suits to his back, six shirts to his body ;
Horse to ride, and weapon to wear;
But rats and mice, and such small deer,
Have beenTom's food for seven long year.
Beware my follower ; peace, Smolkin, (2) peace, thou
foul fiend !.
Lear. One word more, but be sure true counsel ;
tell me, is a madman a gentleman, or a yeoman ?
Kent. I fear'd ' twould come to this ; his wits are
gone. (Aside.)
Edg. Frateretto (3) calls me, and tells me, Nero (4)
is an angler in the lake of darkness. Pray, innocent,
and beware the foul fiend .
Lear. Right, ha ! ha !-was it not pleasant to have
athousand with red-hot spits come hissing in upon them?
Edg. My tears begin to take his part so much,
They mar my counterfeiting. (Aside.)
Lear. The little dogs and all , Tray, Blanch, and
Sweetheart, see, they bark at me.
Edg. Tom will throw his head at ' em : ' vaunt, ye
curs !
Be thy mouth or black, or white, (5)
Tooth that poisons, if it bite :
(1) A tything is a division of a place, a district ; the same in the
country as a ward in the city.
(2) The names of the other punie spirits cast out of Trayford,
were these : " Hilco, Smolkin, Hillioi ," &c. Harsnet , p . 49, PERCY.
(3) Frateretto, Fliberdigibet, Hoberdidance, Tocobatto, were
four devils of the round or morrice . These four had forty assis
tants under them, as themselves doe confess ." Harsnet, p . 49.
PERCY.
(4) Mr. Upton observes that Rabelais, B. 11. c. xxx. says that Nero
was a fiddler in hell, and Trajan an angler. Nero is introduced in
the present play above eight hundred years before he was born.
(5) To have the roofof the mouth black is in some dogs a proof
that their breed is genuine,
 KING LEAR . 39
Mastiff, grey-hound, mongrel grim,
Hound, or spaniel , brache, ( 1 ) or lym, (2)
Bob-tail tike, (3) or trundle-tail ;
Tom will make ' em weep and wail ;
For with throwing thus my head,
Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled .- See, see,
see. (Throws his straw head dress at them.)
Come, march to wakes, and fairs, and market-towns.
A C Poor Tom, thy horn is dry. (Crosses to L. H.)
Lear. You, sir, I entertain you for one of my hun
dred ; only I do not like the fashion of your garments ;
you'll say they're Persian ; but no matter, let ' em be
changed.
Edg. This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet ; he begins
at curfew, and walks till the first cock ; (4 ) he gives the
web, and the pin ; knits the elflock ; squints the eye,
and makes the hair-lip ; mildews the white wheat, and
hurts the poor creatures of the earth.
Saint Withold footed thrice the wold ;
He met the night-mare, and her nine fold,
'Twas there he did appoint her;
He bid her alight, and her troth plight,
And, aroint (5) the witch, aroint her.

Enter GLOSTER, and two Servants with Torches, L.H.

Glost. What, has your grace no better company ?
•
Edg. The prince of darkness is a gentleman ; Modo
he is call'd, and Mahu . (6)
Glost. Go (To Lear. ) with me, sir ; hard by I have a
tenant. My duty cannot suffer me to obey in all your

(1) Brache, properly speaking is the female of the Rache, but is

generally applied to bitches of every description . Vide.- New Way
to Pay Old Debts, A. 1. S. 1.
(2) A lym, or lyme, was a blood-hound.
(3) A Tijk, is a Runick word for a little, or worthless dog.
(4) It is an old tradition that spirits were relieved from the con
finement in which they were held during the day ; at the time
of curfew, that is , at the close of day, and were permitted to wan
der at large till the first cock crowing.
(5) Aroint, or avoid, be gone.
(6) Maho was the chief devil that had possession of Sarah Wil
" liams ; but another of the possessed, named Richard Mainy, was
molested by a still more considerable fiend , called Modu. Harsnet's
Declaration.
40 KING LEAR .
daughters hard commands ; though their injunctions
be to bar my doors, and let this tyrannous night take
hold upon you, yet I have ventur'd to come seek you
out, and bring you where both fire and food are ready.
Kent. Good, my lord, take this offer.
Lear. First, let me talk with this philosopher.
(Lear and Edgar sit on the ground.)
Say, Stagyrite, ( 1 ) what is the cause of thunder ?
Glost. Beseech you, sir, go with me.
Lear. I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban .
What is your study ?
Edg . How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin .
Lear. Let me ask you a word in private.
(Whispers Edgar.)
Kent. His wits are quite unsettled ; good sir, let's
force him hence. (To Gloster.)
Glost. Can'st blame him ? His daughters seek his
death, (To Kent.)
This bedlam but disturbs him the more ; fellow, be gone.
(Edgar rises .)
Edg. Child (2) Rowland to the dark tower came,
His word was still fie, foh, and fum, ( Crosses to R.H.)
Ismell the blood ofa British man. -O, torture ! (Aside .)
[Exit R.H.U.E. into the hovel.
Glost. Now, I pry'thee, friend, let's take him in our
arms ;
There is a litter ready ; lay him in't,
And drive toward Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet
Both welcome and protection.
Good sir, along with us.
Lear. You say right ; let 'em anatomize Regan, see
what breeds about her heart. Is there any cause in
nature for these hard hearts ?
Kent. I beseech your grace, - (They raise him . )
Lear. Hist !-make no noise, make no noise ;
draw the curtains ; closer , closer ; -so, so, so, —we'll
go to supper i'the morning, so, so, so.

(1 ) Aristotle so called from Stagira, a town in Macedonia, where

he was born.
(2) The word child is often applied to knights.
 KING LEAR . 41

[ King Lear falls asleep, and is carriedoff by Gloster

and Kent, R.H. Thunder and lightning.

Enter CORDELIA and ARANTHE, L.H.U.E.

Ar. Dear madam, rest you here , our search is vain ;

Look, here's a shed ; beseech you , enter here.
Cord. Pr'ythee, go in thyself, seek thy own ease ;
Where the mind's free, the body's delicate ;
This tempest but diverts me from the thought
Of what would hurt me more.

Enter Two RUFFIANS , L.H.U.E.

1 Ruff. We've dogg'd them far enough ; this place

is private ; I'll keep ' em prisoners here within this
hovel, whilst you return , and bring Lord Edmund
hither but help me first to house ' em.- Now, dis
patch. (They seize Cordelia and Aranthe.)
Cord. Help, -murder ! -help . - Gods, some kind
thunderbolt
To strike me dead !
Ar. Help ! help ! —

Enter EDGAR from the hovel, R.H.U.E.

Edg. What cry was that ? -Ha ! women seiz'd by

ruffians.
Is this a place and time for villainy ?
Avaunt, ye bloodhounds.
(Drives them off with his quarter-staff, L.H.)
O, speak, what are ye, that appear to be
O' th' tender sex, and yet unguarded wander
Through the dead mazes of this dreadful night,
Where, though at full, the clouded moon scarce darts
Imperfect glimmerings ?
Cord. First, say, what art thou ?
Our Guardian Angel, that wert pleas'd to assume
That horrid shape to fright the ravishers ?
We'll kneel to thee. (Kneels.)
Edg. O, my tumultuous blood !
42 KING LEAR .
By all my trembling veins, Cordelia's voice !
'Tis she herself !-My senses, sure, conform
To my wild garb, and I am mad indeed . (Aside.)
Cord. Whate'er thou art, befriend a wretched virgin,
And if thou canst, direct our weary search. (Aside.)
Edg. Who relieves poor Tom, that sleeps on the
nettle, with the hedge-pig for his pillow ?
Whilst Smug ply'd the bellows,
She truck'd with her fellows ;
The freckle -fac'd Mab
Was a blouze and a drab,
Yet Swithin made Oberon jealous.- O, torture !
(Aside. )
Ar. Alack ! madam, a poor wand'ring lunatic .
Cord. And yet his language seem'd but now well
temper❜d.
Speak, friend, to one more wretched than thyself ;
And if thou hast one interval of sense,
Inform us, if thou canst, where we may find
A poor old man, who through this heath hath stray'd
The tedious night.- Speak, saw'st thou such a one ?
Edg. The king her father, whom she's come to seek
Through all the terrors of this night : O gods !
That such amazing piety, such tenderness,
Shou'd yet to me be cruel ! KŲK ·(Aside.)
Yes, fair one, such a one was lately here,
And is convey'd by some that came to seek him
To a neighbouring cottage ; but distinctly where
I know not.
Cord. Blessings on them !
Let's find him out, Aranthe ; for thou seest
We are in heaven's protection. (Going off, R.H.)
Edg. O Cordelia !
Cord. Ha !-- -Thou know'st my name.
Edg. As you did once know Edgar's.
Cord. Edgar !
Edg. The poor remains of Edgar, what
Your scorn has left him.
Cord. Do we wake, Aranthe ?
Edg. My father seeks my life, which I preserv'd,
In hope of some blest minute to oblige
 KING LEAR. 43

Distrest Cordelia, and the gods have given it ;

That thought alone prevail'd with me to take
This frantic dress, to make the earth my bed,
With these bare limbs all change of seasons ' bide,
Noon's scorching heat, and midnight's piercing cold,
To feed on offals, and to drink with herds,
To combat with the winds, and be the sport
Of clowns, or, what's more wretched yet, their pity.
Cord. Was ever tale so full of misery !
Edg. But such a fall as this, I grant, was due
To my aspiring love ; for ' twas presumptuous,
Though not presumptuously pursued ;
For, well you know, I wore my flame conceal'd,
And silent, as the lamps that burn in tombs ;
Till you perceiv'd my grief, with modest grace.
Drew forth the secret, and then seal'd my pardon .
Cord. You had your pardon, nor can challenge
more .
Edg. What do I challenge more ?
Such vanity agrees not with these rags :
When in my prosp'rous state, rich Gloster's heir,
You silenc'd my pretences, and enjoin'd me
To trouble you upon that theme no more ;
Then what reception must love's language find
From these bare limbs, and beggar's humble weeds ?
Cord. Such as the voice of pardon to a wretch con
demned ;
Such as the shouts
Of succouring forces to a town besieg'd.
Edg. Ah ! what new method now of cruelty ?
Cord. Come to my arms, thou dearest, best of men,
And take the kindest vows that e'er were spoke
By a protesting maid.
Edg. Is't possible ?
Cord. By the dear vital stream that bathes my heart,
These hallow'd rags of thine, and naked virtue,
These abject tassels, these fantastic shreds,
To me are dearer than the richest pomp
Of purpled monarchs.
Edg. Generous, charming maid ! (They embrace . )
44 KING LEAR.
Cord. Cold and weary,
We'll rest a while, Aranthe, on that straw,
Then forward to find out the poor old king.
[Exit Aranthe into the hovel, R.H.U.E.
Edg. Look, I have flint and steel, the implements
Of wand'ring lunatics ; I'll strike a light,
And make a fire beneath this shed, to dry
Thy storm-drenched garments, ere thou lie to rest
thee ;
Then, fierce and wakeful as th' Hesperian dragon,
I'll watch beside thee to protect thy sleep :
Meanwhile the stars shall dart their kindest beams,
And angels visit my Cordelia's dreams.
[Exeunt into the hovel, R.H.U.E.

END OF ACT III.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.— An Apartment in the Earl of Gloster's

Castle.

Enter the Duke of CORNWALL, an open letter in his

hand, REGAN, EDMUND , EDWARD, Servants,
and four Guards, L.H.

Corn. I will have my revenge ere I depart his house.

Regan, see here, a plot upon our state ;
(Gives her a Letter.)
'Tis Gloster's character, who has betray'd
His double trust, of subject and of host.
Reg. Then double be our vengeance ; this confirms
Th' intelligence that we but now receiv'd,
That he has been this night to seek the king .
But who , sir , was the kind discoverer ?
Corn. Our eagle, quick to spy, and fierce to seize,
Our trusty Edmund .
Reg. 'Twas a noble service ;
 KING LEAR, 45

O, Cornwall, take him to thy deepest trust,

And wear him as a jewel at thy heart.
Edm. Think, sir, how hard a fortune I sustain,
That makes me thus repent of serving you,
Oh, that this treason had not been , or I
Not the discoverer !
Corn. Edmund, thou shalt find
A father in our love , and from this minute
We call thee earl of Gloster ; but there yet
Remains another justice to be done,
And that's to punish this discarded traitor ;
But, lest thy tender nature should relent
At his just sufferings, nor brook the sight,
We wish thee to withdraw.
Reg. The grotto , sir, within the lower grove
Has privacy, to suit a mourner's thought. (Aside to him. )
Edm. And there I may expect a comforter
Ha, madam ? (Aside to her.)
Reg. What may happen, sir , I know not ;
But ' twas a friend's advice.— ( Aside to him.)
[ Exit Edmund, R.H.
Corn. Bring in the traitor.

Enter GLOSTER, brought in by two Servants, L.H.

Bind fast his arms.
Glost. What mean your graces ?
You are my guests ; pray, do me no foul play.
Corn. Bind him, (They bind him.) I say, hard,
harder yet .
Reg. Now, traitor, thou shalt find
Corn. Speak, rebel, where hast thou sent the king ?
Whom , spite of our decree, thou saved'st last night.
Glost. I'm tied to th' stake, and I must stand the
course.(1)
Reg. Say where, and why, thou hast conceal'd him ,
traitor. (Crosses to Gloster.)
Glost. Because I would not see thy cruel hands
Tear out his poor old eyes, nor thy fierce sister

(1) The running of the dogs upon me.

46 KING LEAR.
Carve his anointed flesh ; but I shall see
The swift wing'd vengeance overtake such children.
Corn. See't thou shalt never : slaves, perform your
work ; (The Servants take Gloster out, L.H. )
Out with those treacherous eyes ; dispatch, I say.
Glost. (Within. L.H.) He that will think to live
'till he be old,
Give me some help. O cruel ! oh, ye gods !
Edw. Hold, hold, my lord, I bar your cruelty ;
I cannot love your safety, and give way
To such inhuman practice.
Corn. Ah, my villain ! ( 1 )
Edw. I have been your servant from my in
fancy ;
But better service have I never done you,
Than with this boldness .
Corn. Take thy death , slave.
(Stabs Edward , and puts up his dagger.)
Edw. Nay, then, revenge, whilst yet my blood is
warm !
(Draws his sword, runs Cornwall through the
body, and is carried off by two Guards, R.H.
Cornwall is supported by Servants.)
Reg. Help here are you not hurt, my lord ?
Glost. (Within. L.H.) Edmund, enkindle all the
sparks of nature
To quit this horrid act.
Reg. Out, treacherous villain ,
Thou call'st on him that hates thee ; it was he
That broach'd thy treason, shew'd us thy dispatches ;
There-read, and save the Cambrian prince a labour.
(Throws the letters out to him. L.H.)
Glost. (Within. L.H.) O my folly!
Then Edgar was abus'd ; kind gods, forgive me
that !
1
Reg. How is't my lord ? (To Cornwall .)
Corn. Turn out that eyeless villain , let him smell

(1 ) Villain is here used in its original sense, of one in servi

tude.
 KING LEAR. 47

His way to Cambray ; throw this slave upon a dunghill .

Regan, I bleed apace ; give me your arm .
[Exeunt Regan, L.H. Cornwall supported by his
Servants, R.H.

SCENE II.- The open Country.

Enter EDGAR , in disguise, R.H.

Edg. The lowest and most abject thing of fortune

Stands still in hope, and is secure from fear.
The lamentable change is from the best,
The worst returns to better.- Who comes here ?
(Retires a little up the stage.)
Enter GLOSTER, led by an OLD MAN , L.H.

My father poorly led ! depriv'd of sight !

The precious stones torn from their bleeding rings !
When will the measure of my woes be full ?
Old M. O my good lord, I have been your tenant,
And your father's tenant, these fourscore years .
Glost. Away, get thee away ; good friend, be gone ;
Thy comforts can do me no good at all ;
Thee they may hurt.
Old M. You cannot see your way.
Glost. I have no way, and therefore want no eyes ;
I stumbled when I saw: O dear son Edgar !
The food of thy abused father's wrath,
Might I but live to see thee in my touch, (1 )
I'd say I had eyes again.
Edg. Alas ! he's sensible that I was wrong'd,
And, should I own myself, his tender heart
Would break betwixt the extremes of grief and joy.
(Aside.)
Old M. How now ? who's there ?
Edg. (Advancing R.H. of Gloster.) A charity for
poor Tom.- Play fair, and defy the foul fiend.
O gods ! and must I still pursue this trade,
Trifling beneath such loads of misery ? (Aside.)
Old M. 'Tis poor mad Tom.
(1 ) So, in another scene, I see itfeelingly.
48 KING LEAR .
Glost. In the late storm I such a fellow saw,
Which made me think a man a worm .
Where is the lunatic ?
Old M. Here, my lord .
Glost. Get thee now away ; if for my sake
Thou wilt o'ertake us hence a mile or two,
I'th' way to Dover , do't for ancient love,
And bring some cov'ring for this naked wretch,
Whom I'll intreat to lead me.
Old M. Alack, my lord, he's mad .
Glost. 'Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead
the blind.
Do as I bid thee .
Old M. I'll bring him the best ' parel that I have,
Come on't what will. • [Exit, L.H.
Glost. Sirrah ! naked fellow !
Edg. Poor Tom's a- cold .— I cannot fool it longer.
(Aside.)
And yet I must.- Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed ;
Believe't, poor Tom ev'n weeps his blind to see ' em .
Glost. Know'st thou the way to Dover ?
Edg. Both stile and gate, horse- way and foot
path.
Poor Tom has been scared out of his good wits. Bless
every true man's son from the foul fiend !
Glost. Here, take this purse ; that I am wretched
Makes thee the happier. Heav'n deal so still !
Thus let the griping usurer's hoard be scatter'd ,
So distribution shall undo excess ,
And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover?
Edg. Ay, master.
Glost. There is a cliff, whose high and bending head
Looks dreadfully down on the roaring deep ;
Bring me but to the very brink of it,
And I'll repair the poverty thou bear'st
With something rich about me.-From that place
I shall no leading need.
Edg. Give me thy arm ? poor Tom shall guide
thee.
Glost. Soft ! for I hear the tread of passengers .
 KING LEAR. 49

Enter KENT, in his own Character, and CORdelia,

L.H.

Cord. Ah me ! Your fear's too true, it was the

king ;
I spoke but even now with some that met him,
As mad as the vex'd sea, singing aloud ;
Crown'd with rank fumiter, ( 1 ) and furrow weeds,
With berries , burdocks, violets, daisies, poppies ,
And all the idle flowers that grow
In our sustaining corn : conduct me to him,
To prove my last endeavours to restore him,
And heav'n so prosper thee !
Kent. I will, good lady.
Ha ! Gloster here !-Turn, poor dark man, and hear
A friend's condolement , who, at sight of thine,
Forgets his own distress ; thy old true Kent.
Glost. How ! Kent ? From whence return'd ?
Kent. I have not, since my banishment, been absent,
But in disguise follow'd th' abandon'd king .
"Twas me thou saw'st with him in the late storm .
Glost . Let me embrace thee ; had I eyes, I now
Should weep for joy ; but let this trickling blood
Suffice instead of tears .
Cord. O, misery ! (Sees Gloster.)
To whom shall I complain, or in what language ?
Forgive, O wretched man, the piety
That brought thee to this pass ; ' twas I that caus'd it ;
I cast me at thy feet, and beg of thee (Kneels .)
To crush these weeping eyes to equal darkness,
If that will give thee any recompense .
Edg. Was ever season so distrest as this ? (Aside.)
Glost. I think, Cordelia's voice ; rise, pious princess ,
And take a dark man's blessing . (Cordelia rises .)
(Kent and Gloster confer apart.)
Cord. O, my Edgar !
My virtue's now grown guilty, works the bane
Of those that do befriend me ; heaven forsakes me ;
(1) Fumitory; by the old herbalists written fumittery,
D
50 KING LEAR.

And, when you look that way, it is but just

That you should hate me too.
Edg. O, wave this cutting speech, and spare to
wound
A heart that's on the rack.
Glost. No longer cloud thee, Kent, in that disguise ;
There's business for thee, and of noblest weight ;
Our injur'd country is at length in arms,
Urg'd by the king's inhuman wrongs and mine,
And only want a chief to lead them on ;
That task be thine.
Edg. (Aside.) Brave Britons ! then there's life in't
yet.
Kent. Then have we one cast for our fortune still .
Come, princess, I'll bestow you with the king,
Then on the spur to head these forces .
Farewell, good Gloster ; to our conduct trust.
Glost. And be your cause as prosp'rous, as ' tisjust.
[Exeunt ; Kent and Cordelia, R.H. Edgar and
Gloster, L.H.

SCENE III.- Albany's Palace.

Enter GONERIL, with a letter, and OSWALD, L.H.

Gon . It was great ignorance, Gloster's eyes being out,

To let him live ; where he arrives, he moves
All hearts against us : Edmund, I think, is gone,
In pity to his misery, to despatch him.
Osw. No, madam, he's return'd on speedy summons
Back to your sister.
Gon. Ah ! I like not that ;
Such speed must have the wings of love. Where's
Albany?
Osw . Madam, within ; but never man so chang'd ;
I told him of the uproar of the peasants,
He smil'd at it ; when I inform'd him
Of Gloster's treason,
Gon. Trouble him no further ;
It is his coward spirit. Back to our sister.
 KING LEAR . 51
Hasten her musters on, and let her know,
I have given the distaff into my husband's hands ;
That done, with special care deliver these despatches
In private, to young Gloster.

Enter CAPTAIN of the Guard, R.H.

Cap. O, madam, most unseasonable news !

The Duke of Cornwall's dead of his late wound,
Whose loss your sister has in part supply'd,
Making brave Edmund general of her forces.
Gon. One way, I like this well ;
But, being a widow, and my Gloster with her,
'T may blast the promis'd harvest of our love. (Aside.)
A word more, sir ; ( To Oswald.) add speed to your
journey ;
And if you chance to meet with that blind traitor,
Preferment falls on him that cuts him off.
[Exeunt ; Goneril and Capt. R.H. Oswald, L.H.

SCENE IV.- Another part of the Country.

Enter GLOSTER, and EDGAR, as a Peasant, L.H.U.E.

Glost. When shall we come to'th' top of that same

hill?
Edg. We climb it now ; mark, how we labour.
Glost. Methinks, the ground is even.
Edg. Horribly steep. Hark, do you hear the sea ?
Glost . No, truly.
Edg. Why, then your other senses grow imperfect
By your eyes' anguish.
Glost. So may it be indeed.
Methinks, thy voice is alter'd, and thou speak'st
In better phrase and matter, than thou didst .
Edg. Youare much deceiv'd, in nothing am I alter'd,
But my garments .
Glost. Methinks, you're better spoken.
Edg. Come on, sir ; (Crosses to R.H. ) here's the
place. How fearful
And dizzy ' tis, to cast one's eyes so low !
D 2
52 KING LEAR.
The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air,
Shew scarce so big as beetles ; half way down
Hangs one that gathers samphire ; ( 1 ) dreadful trade !
The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,
Appear like mice ; and yon tall anch'ring bark
Seems lessen'd to her cock ; (2) her cock, a buoy,
Almost too small for sight ; the murm'ring surge
Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more ;
Lest my brain turn, and the disorder make me
Tumble down headlong.
Glost. Set me were you stand .
Edg. You are now within a foot of th' extreme verge :
For all beneath the moon I would not now
Leap forward .
Glost. Let go my hand.
Here is another purse, in it a jewel
Well worth a poor man's taking. Get thee farther,
Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.
Edg. Fare you well, sir.- (Retires a little up the
Stage, R.H.) -That I do trifle thus
With his despair, is with design to cure it. (Aside.)
Glost. (Kneels.) Thus, mighty gods, this world I
do renounce,
And in your sight shake my afflictions off;
IfI could bear them longer, and not fall
To quarrel with your great opposeless wills,
My snuff and feebler part of nature shou'd
Burn itself out. If Edgar live, oh, bless him !
Now, fellow, fare thee well.- (Prepares to fall, when
Edgar advances and catches him.)
Edg. Hold- who comes here ?
Enter KING LEAR, with a Coronet of Flowers on his
Head, and Straw in his Hand, L.H.U.E.
Lear. No, no ; they cannot touch me for coining ;
I am the king himself.
Edg. O piercing sight !
(1) Samphire grows in great plenty on most of the sea-cliffs in
this country; it is terrible to see people gather it, hanging by a
rope, several fathoms from the top of the impending rocks,* as it
were in the air.
(2) Her cock-boat.
 KING LEAR . 53
Lear. Nature's above art in that respect. There's
your press-money, ( 1 ) That fellow handles his bow
like a crow keeper ; -draw me a clothier's yard . (2)
A mouse, a mouse ! Peace, hoa ! There's mygauntlet ;
I'll prove it on a giant. Bring up the brown bills ; (3)
well flown, barb ; I'th' white, i'th' white--Hewgh!
-Give the word. (4)
Edg. Sweet Majoram.
Lear. Pass . (Edgar crosses to L.H.)
Glost. I know that voice .
Lear. Ha, Goneril ! With a white beard ? They
flatter'd me like a dog , ( 5 ) and told me I had white hairs
on my chin, (6) before the black ones were there.
(Crosses to R.H.) - To say ay and no to every thing that
I said,-Ay, and no too, was no good divinity. When
the rain came once to wet me, (7) and the winds to make
me chatter, when the thunder wou'd not peace at my
bidding, there I found ' em, there I smelt them out.
Go to, they are not men of their words ; they told me
I was every thing ; ' tis a lie ;
I am not ague-proof. (Crosses to L.H.)
Glost. That voice I well remember : is't not the
king ?
Lear. Ay, every inch a king : when I do stare ,
See, how the subject quakes .
(1) It is evident from the whole of this speech, that Lear fancies
himself in battle. Press-money was paid to soldiers when they
were retained in the King's service, and it appears from some an
cient statutes that it was felony in any soldier to withdraw himself
from the King's service after receipt of this money, without special
leave. On the contrary , he was obliged at all times to hold him
self in readiness, The term is from the French " prest," ready.
(2) Perhaps the poet had in his mind a stanza of the old ballad
of Chevy Chase.
" An arrow of a cloth-yard long
" Up to the head drew he. " &c.
(3) A bill was a kind of battle axe, affixed to a long staff.
(4) Lear supposes himself in a garrison, and before he lets Ed
gar pass, requires the watch word.
(5) They played spaniel to me.
(6) They told me I had the wisdom of age, before I had attained
manhood.
(7) This seems to be an allusion to King Canute's behaviour,
when his courtiers flattered him as lord of the sea.
D3
54 KING LEAR .
I pardon that man's life.-What was the cause ?
Adultery ?
Thou shalt not die . Die for adultery ? No.
The wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly
Engenders in my sight .- ( Crosses to R.H.)—Let copu
lation thrive ;
For Gloster's bastard son was kinder to his father,
Than were my daughters, got i'th ' lawful bed.
To't, luxury, (1) pell-mell ; for I lack soldiers.
There's money for thee.
Glost. Let me kiss that hand.
Lear. Let me wipe it first ; it smells of mortality.
Glost. Speak, sir, do you know me ?
Lear. I remember thine eyes well enough. Nay, do
thy worst, blind Cupid, I'll not love.- Read me this
challenge ; mark but the penning of it.
Glost. Were all the letters suns , I could not see.
Lear. Read, read, read.
Glost. What ! with this case of eyes ?
Lear. O ho ! are you there with me ? No eyes in
your head, nor no money in your purse ? Yet you see
how this world goes.
Glost. I see it feelingly.
Lear. What ! art mad? A man may see how this
world goes, with no eyes. Look with thy ears : see
how yon justice rails on yon simple thief.-Hark, in
thine ear ; shake ' em together, and the first that drops,
be it thief or justice, is a villain.- Thou hast seen a
farmer's dog bark at a beggar ?
Glost. Ay, sir.
Lear. And the man run from the cur ; there thou
might'st behold the great image of authority ; a dog's
obey'd in office. Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody
hand ! Why dost thou lash that strumpet? Thou
hotly lust'st to enjoy her in that kind for which thou
whip'st her ; do, do ! the judge that sentenc'd her
has been before hand with thee.
Glost. How stiff is my vile sense that yields not yet !
Lear. I tell thee, the usurer hangs the cozener.—
Through tatter'd cloaths small vices do appear ;
(4) Luxury was the ancient appropriate term for incontinence.
 KING LEAR. 55

Robes and fur-gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold,

And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks:
Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it.---
Why there ' tis for thee, friend ; make much of it ;
It has the power to seal the accuser's lips. Get thee
glass eyes, and, like a scurvy politician, seem to see
the things thou dost not.-Pull , pull off my boots ;
hard, harder ; so, so.
Glost. O, matter and impertinency mixt !
Reason in madness !
Lear. If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes .
I know thee well enough, thy name is Gloster.
Thou must be patient ; we came crying hither ;
Thou know'st, the first time that we taste the air,
We wail and cry.- I'll preach to thee : mark me.
Edg. Break, lab'ring heart !
Lear. When we are born, we cry, that we are come
To this great stage of fools,

Enter Physican and two Knights, R.H.U.E.

Phys. O here he is ; lay hand upon him. - sir,

Your dearest daughter sends
Lear. No rescue ? What, a prisoner ? I am even
the natural fool of fortune. Use me well, you shall
have ransom.- -Let me have surgeons . Oh ! I am
cut to the brains.
Phys. You shall have any thing.
Lear. No seconds ? All myself ?
I will die bravely, like a bridegroom. What !
I will be jovial ; come, come ; I am a king,
My masters, know you that ?
Phys. You are a royal one, and we obey you.
Lear. It were an excellent stratagem to shoe a troop
ofhorse with felt ; (1 ) I'll put it in proof.- No noise, no
noise. Now will we steal upon these sons-in- law, and
then--Kill, kill , kill, kill !
[ Exeunt King Lear, and the Physicians, R.H.

(1) i, e. With flocks kneaded to a mass, a practise sometimes

used in former ages,
D4
56 KING LEAR .

Edg. A sight most moving in the meanest wretch ,

Past speaking in a king!
Glost. Now, good sir, what are you?
Edg. A most poor man, made tame to fortune's
strokes,
And prone to pity by experienc'd sorrows .
Give me your hand.
Glost. You, gentle gods, take my breath from me,
And let not my ill genius tempt me more
To die before you please .

Enter OSWALD, l.h.

Osw. A proclaim'd prize ! O most happily met !

That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh
To raise my fortunes. Thou old, unhappy, traitor,
The sword is out that must destroy thee.
(Draws his Sword.)
Glost. Now let thy friendly hand put strength
enough to't. (Edgar raises his Staff.)
Osw. Wherefore, bold peasant,
Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor ? Hence,
Lest I destroy thee too ; let go his arm.
Edg. Chill not let go, zir, without 'vurther
'casion.
Osw. Let go, slave ; or thou diest.
Edg. Good gentleman, go your gate, and let poor
volk pass ; and chu'd ha' bin' zwagger'd out of my
life, it would not have been zo long as tis by a vort
night.- -Nay, an' thou com'st near th' old man,
I'st try whether your costard (1 ) or my ballow be th❜
harder.
Osw. Out, dunghill !
Edg. Chill pick your teeth, zir : come, no matter
vor your foines.(2) (Edgar knocks him down .)
Osw. Slave, thou hast slain me ; oh ! untimely death !
(Dies.)
· Edg. I know thee well, a serviceable villain ;

(1) Costard, head.

(2) Tofoin, is to make what we call a thrust in fencing.
 KING LEAR . 57
As duteous to the vices of thy mistress,
As lust could wish.
Glost. What ? Is he dead ?
Edg. This is a letter-carrier, and may have
Some papers of intelligence, that may stand
Our party in good stead to know.What's here ?
(Takes a letter out of his pocket, and reads it.)
To Edmund Earl of Gloster.
(Reads.)-Let our mutual loves be remember'd:
you have many opportunities to cut Albany off. If
he return the Conqueror, then I am still a prisoner,
and his bed my jail ; from the loath'd warmth of
which deliver me, and supply the place for your la
bour. GONERIL.
A plot upon the duke her husband's life,
And the exchange my brother ! (Aside.)
In time and place convenient I'll produce
This letter to the sight of th' injur'd duke,
As best shall serve our purpose.
(A march at a distance, L.H. )
Come, your hand ;
Far off, methinks I hear the beaten drum ;
Come, sir, I will bestow you with a friend.
[Exeunt, L.H.

END OF ACT IV.

ACT V.

SCENE I - A Chamber. - King Lear asleep on a

couch, R.H.

CORDELIA, R.H. seated, PHYSICIAN, and two KNIGHTS

standing by him.

Cord. All bless'd secrets ;

58 KING LEAR .

In the good man's distress

Oh, you kind heavens,
Cure this great breach in his abused nature,
Th' untun'd and jarring senses, Oh wind up,
Of this child- changed father. (1)
Phys. We have employ'd the utmost pow'r of art,
And this deep rest will perfect our design.
Cord. O Regan ! Goneril ! Inhumau sisters !
Had he not been your father, these white hairs
Had challeng'd sure some pity ! Was this a face
To be expos'd against the jarring winds ?
My enemy's dog, though he had bit me, shou'd
Have stood that night against my fire.
Phys. Be by, good madam, when we do awake him ;
I doubt not of his temperance .
Cord. O, my dear father ! Restoration, hang
Thy med'cine on my lips ; and let this kiss
Repair those violent harms, that my two sisters
Have in thy rev'rence made. He wakes ;
Speak to him .
Phys. Madam, do you ; ' tis fittest.
Cord. How does my royal lord ? How fares your
majesty?
Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out o'th' grave.
(Lear rises, and Cordelia supports him down to
the front of the Stage.)
Cord. (On L.H . ) - Speak to me, sir ; who am I ?
Lear. You are a soul in bliss ; but I am bound
Upon a wheel of fire, which my own tears
Do scald like molten lead.
Cord. Sir, do you know me ?
Lear. You are a spirit, I know ; when did you die ?
Cord. Still, still, far wide !
Phys. Madam, he's scarce awake ; he'll soon grow
more compos'd.
Lear. Where have I been ? Where am I ? Fair
day-light ?
I am mightily abus'd : I should even die with pity
 KING LEAR. 59
To see another thus. I will not swear,
These are my hands.
Cord. O, look upon me, sir,
And hold your hand in blessing o'er me. (Lear at
tempts to kneel.) - Nay,
You must not kneel.
Lear. Pray, do not mock me ;
I am a very foolish, fond, old man ,
Fourscore and upward ; and, to deal plainly,
I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
Cord. Nay, then farewell to patience ! Witness for
me,
Ye mighty pow'rs, I ne'er complain'd ' till now !
Lear. Methinks, I shou'd know you, and know this
man ;
Yet I am doubtful ; for I'm mainly ignorant
What place this is ; and all the skill I have,
Remembers not these garments ; nor do I know
Where I did sleep last night.- Pray, do not mock me ;
For, as I am a man, I think that lady
To be my child Cordelia.
Cord. O, my dear, dear father !
Lear. Be your tears wet ? Yes, faith ; pray, do not
weep .
I know, I have giv'n thee cause, and am so humbled
With crosses since, that I could ask
Forgiveness of thee, were it possible
That thou couldst grant it ;
If thou hast poison for me, I will drink it,
Bless thee, and die. (Crosses to L.H.)
Cord. O, pity, sir, a bleeding heart, and cease
This killing language.
Lear. Tell me, friends, where am I ?
Phys. In your own kingdom, sir.
Lear. Do not abuse me.
Phys. Be comforted, good madam ; for the violence
Of his distemper's past ; we'll lead him in,
Nor trouble him, ' till he is better settled.
60 KING LEAR.

(The Physican leads off King Lear, followed by

two Knights, L.H.)
Cord. The Gods restore you !-(A distant march .)
Hark, I hear afar
The beaten drum. Old Kent's a man of's word.
Oh! for an arm
Like the fierce thunderer's when the earth- born sons
Storm'd heav'n, to fight this injur'd father's battle !
That I cou'd shift my sex , and dye me deep
In his opposer's blood ! But, as I may,
With women's weapons, piety and pray'rs,
I'll aid his cause, You never-erring gods,
Fight on his side, and thunder on his foes
Such tempests, as his poor aged head sustain'd !
Your image suffers when a monarch bleeds ;
"Tis your own cause ; for that your succours bring ;
Revenge yourselves, and right an injur'd king.
[Exit, L.H.

SCENE II -A Valley near the Field of Battle.

Enter EDGAR and GLOSTER , R.H.U.E.

Edg. Here, sir, take you the shadow of this tree

For your good host ; pray that the right may thrive :
If ever I return to you again,
I'll bring you comfort. [ Exit, L.H.
Glost. Thanks, friendly sir ;
The fortune your good cause deserves betide you !
(An alarum within, L. H.)
The fight grows hot ; the whole war's now at work,
And the gor'd battle bleeds in every vein,
Whilst drums and trumpets drown loud slaughter's
roar.
Where's Gloster now, that us'd to head the onset,
And scour the ranks where deadliest danger lay ?
Here, like a shepherd, in a lonely shade,
Idle, unarm'd, and list'ning to the fight.
 KING LEAR . 61
-
And crush thee into rest.— (Advances a little.)
O, dark despair ! When, Edgar, wilt thou come
To pardon, and dismiss me to the grave ?
(A retreat sounded, L.H.)
Hark ! a retreat ; the king, I fear, has lost.

Re-enter EDGAr, l.h.

Edg. Away, old man ; give me your hand ; away !

(Crosses to R.H.)
King Lear has lost ; he and his daughter ta'en :
And this, ye gods, is all that I can save
Of this most precious wreck. Give me your hand.
Glost. No farther, sir ; a man may rot even here.
Edg. What ! in ill thoughts again ? Men must
endure
Their going hence, ev'n as their coming hither.
Glost. And that's true too. [ Exeunt, R.H.

SCENE III.- The Field of Battle.

(Flourish of Drums and Trumpets, L.H.)

Enter the CAPTAIN of the Guard and Soldiers,

GONERIL, ALBANY, REGAN, and EDMUND, with
KING LEAR, KENT, and CORDELIA, in Chains,——
Herald and Prisoners, L.H.

Alb. (R.H.) It is enough to have conquer'd ; cruelty

Shou'd ne'er survive the fight. Captain o'the guards,
Treat well your royal prisoners, ' till you have
Our farther orders, as you hold our pleasure.
Gon. Hark, sir, not as you hold our husband's
pleasure, (To the Captain aside.)
But as you hold your life, despatch your pris'ners.
Our empire can have no sure settlement
But in their death .
Capt. I shall obey your orders.
(Crosses behind to L.B.)
62 KING LEAR.
Sentence of death upon this wretched king, '
Whose age has charms in it, his title more,
To draw the commons onee more to his side ;
"Twere best prevent-
Alb. Sir, by your favour,
I hold you but a subject of this war,
Not as a brother.
Reg. That's as we list to grace him.
Have you forgot that he did lead our pow'rs ?
Bore the commission of our place and person ?
And that authority may well stand up,
And call itself your brother.
Gon. Not so hot ;
In his own merits he exalts himself
More than in your addition . (Trumpet sounds, R.H.)

Enter EDGAR, disguis'd, R.H.

Alb. What art thou ?

Edg. Pardon me, sir, that I presume to stop
A prince and conq'ror ; yet, ere you triumph,
Give ear to what a stranger can deliver
Of what concerns you more than triumph can.
I do impeach your general there of treason,
Lord Edmund, that usurps the name of Gloster,
Of foulest practice 'gainst your life and honour :
This charge is true ; and, wretched though I seem,
I can produce a champion that will prove
In single combat what I do avouch,
If Edmund dares but trust his cause and sword.
Edm. What will not Edmund dare ? -(Crosses to
Centre.)- My lord, I beg
The favour that you'd instantly appoint
The place where I may meet this challenger :
Whom I will sacrifice to my wrong'd fame :
Remember, sir, that injur'd honour's nice,
And cannot brook delay.
Alb. Anon, before our tent i'th' army's view,
There let the herald cry.
 KING LEAR . 63
Alb. Lead to our tent. [Exeunt, R.H.
(Flourish of Drums and Trumpets .)

Manent KING LEAR, KENT, CORDELIA, CAPTAIN of

the Guard, Banners , and Soldiers .

Lear. O Kent ! Cordelia !

(They advance to the front.)
You are the only pair that I e'er wrong'd,
And the just gods have made you witnesses
Of my disgrace ;- the very shame of fortune,
To see me chain'd and shackled at these years !
Yet were you but spectators of my woes,
Not fellow- sufferers, all were well .
Cord. This language, sir, adds yet to our affliction:
Lear. Thou, Kent, didst head the troops that fought
my battle,
Exposed'st thy life and fortunes for a master,
That had, as I remember, banish'd thee.
Kent. Pardon me, sir, that once I broke your orders :
Banish'd by you, I kept me here disguis'd,
To watch your fortunes, and protect your person ;
You know you entertain'd a rough, blunt fellow,
One Caius, and you thought he did you service.
Lear. My trusty Caius, I have lost him too !"
"Twas a rough honesty.
Kent. I was that Caius,
Disguis'd in that coarse dress to follow you:
Lear. My Caius too ! Was't thou my trusty Caius ?
Enough, enough
Cord. Ah me, he faints ! his blood forsakes his cheek !
Help, Kent,
Lear. No, no, they shall not see us weep,
We'll see them rot first.-Guards, lead away to prison.
Come, Kent ; Cordelia, come.- Ha ! have I caught
you ?
He that parts us, must bring a brand from heav'n ;
Together we'll out- toil the spite of hell,
And die the wonders of the world. -Away.
64 KING LEAR .

SCENE IV. - The Duke of Albany's Tent.

Flourish, L.H.- Enter the DUKE OF ALBANY, Ed

MUND , Herald, Attendants, and Soldiers, L.H.

Alb. Now, Gloster, trust to thy single virtue : ( 1 ) for

thy soldiers,
All levied in my name, have in my name
Ta'en their discharge. Now, let our trumpets speak,
And, herald, read out this.
(Herald reads.)— If any man of quality, within
the lists of the army, will maintain upon Edmund,
suppos'd Earl of Gloster, that he is a manifold trai
tor, let him appear by the third sound of the trumpet;
he is bold in his defence.
Sound ! —again ! —again !
(The trumpet sounds at each order ; and is then an
swered from within, R.H. Herald goes to L.H. and
stands infront ofthe Guard .)

Enter EDGAR, R.H. in Armour.

Alb. Lord Edgar !
Edm. Ha ! my brother!
This is the only combatant I cou'd fear ;
For in my breast guilt duels on his side.
But, conscience, what have I to do with thee?
Awe thou thy dull legitimate slaves ; but I
Was born a libertine, and so I keep me.-(Aside, L.H.)
Edg. My noble prince, a word ; -Ere we engage,
Into your highness ' hands I give this paper ;
It will the truth of my impeachment prove,
Whatever be my fortune in the fight.
Alb. We shall peruse it.
Edg. (Draws.) Now, Edmund, draw thy sword,
That, if my speech has wrong'd a noble heart,
Thy arm may do thee justice : Here, i'th' presence
Of this high prince,
I brand thee with the spotted name of traitor,
 KING LEAR. 65

False to thy gods, thy father, and thy brother ;

And, what is more, thy friend, false to this prince ;
If then, thou shar'st a spark of Gloster's virtue,
Acquit thyself; or, if thou shar'st his courage,
Meet this defiance bravely.
Edm. And dares Edgar, (Crosses to Centre.)
The beaten, routed Edgar, brave his conqueror ?
From all thy troops and thee I forc'd the field ;
Thou hast lost the gen'ral stake, and art thou now
Come with thy petty single stock to play
This after-game ?
Edg. Half-blooded man ,
Thy father's sin first, then his punishment.
From thy licentious mother
Thou draw'st thy villainy ; but, for thy part
Of Gloster's blood, I hold thee worth my sword.
Edm. Thou bear'st thee on thy mother's piety,
Which I despise ; thy mother being chaste,
Thou art assur'd thou art but Gloster's son ;
But mine, disdaining constancy, leaves me
To hope that I am sprung from nobler blood,
And possibly a king might be my sire :
But be my birth's uncertain chance as ' twill,
Who 'twas that had the hit to father me,
I know not ; ' tis enough that I am I ;
Of this one thing I'm certain, that I have
A daring soul, and so have at thy heart.
(Trumpets sound ; -Theyfight; -Edmundfalls.)
'Tis past, and so am I.
Edg. As thou art my father's son,
Exchange we charity on thy repentance.
Edm. Thysword has prov'd thy truth.- Forgive me
Edgar. -
Oh ! ere life leaves me, let me do some good , NO
Despight of my own nature :-Quickly send,
Be brief, into the castle ; for my order
Is on the life of Lear, and of Cordelia.
Edg. O, let us fly, my lord, to save their lives !
Alb. The heav'ns defend them !-Bear him hence a
while.
66 KING LEAR.

[Exeunt the Duke of Albany and Edgar, with a

part ofthe Soldiers, L.H. and the other part bear
Edmund away, R.H.- Flourish of Drums and
Trumpets, L.H.
SCENE V.- A Prison.

King Lear discovered asleep on a truss of straw.

Cordelia seated, R.H.

Cord. What toils, thou wretched king, hast thou

endur'd,
To make thee draw, in chains, a sleep so sound !
Thy better angel charm thy ravish'd mind
With fancied freedom ! Peace is us'd to lodge
On cottage straw ; thou hast the beggar's bed;
Therefore should'st have the beggar's careless
thought.
And now, my Edgar, I remember thee :
What fate has seiz'd thee in this general wreck
I know not, but I know thou must be wretched,
Because Cordelia holds thee dear.
O gods ! a sudden gloom o'erwhelms me, and the
image
Of death o'erspreads the place.-Ha ! who are these ?

Enter CAPTAIN of the Guard, another OFFICER,

and Soldiers with Cords, L.H.

Capt. Now, sirs, despatch ; already you are paid

In part, the best of your reward's to come.
Lear. (In his sleep. ) Charge, charge upon their
flank ! their left wing halts ;
Push, push the battle, and the day's our own ;
Their ranks are broken ; down , down with Albany.
Who holds my hands ?-(Wakes.)-O, thou deceiving
sleep,
I was this very minute on the chase,
And now a pris'ner here !-What mean the slaves ?
You will not murder me ?
Cord. Help, earth and heaven !
For your souls' sake, dear sirs, and for the gods,
 KING LEAR, 67

Offi. No tears, good lady ; no pleading against gold

and preferment .
Come, sirs, make ready your cords.
Cord. You, sir, I'll seize, (Kneels.)
You have a human form ; and, if no prayers
Can touch your soul to spare a poor king's life,
If there be any thing that you hold dear,
By that I beg you to despatch me first.
. Capt. Comply with her request ; despatch her
first. (They draw her down to L.H.)
Lear. Off, hell-hounds ! by the gods I charge you,
spare her ;
'Tis my Cordelia, my true pious daughter ;
No pity ?-Nay, then take an old man's vengeance.
(King Lear starts forward to L.H. snatches a
swordfrom the officer, and strikes down the
two soldiers who had seized Cordelia .- Flou
rish, L.H.

EnterEDGAR, the Duke ofALBANY, and King Lear's

Knights, L.H.

Edg. Death ! Hell ! ye vultures, hold your impious

hands,
Or take a speedier death than you wou'd give.
Alb. Guards, seize those instruments of cruelty.
[Exeunt the Captain and two Guards, L.H.
Cord. Oh, my Edgar !
Edg. My dear Cordelia ! Lucky was the minute
Of our approach ; the gods have weigh'd our sufferings ;
W' have pass'd the fire, and now must shine to ages.
Knight. Look here, my lord ; see, where the gener
ous king
Has slain two of ' em.
Lear. Did I not, fellow ?
I've seen the day, with my good biting faulchion
I could have made ' em skip ;-( Crosses to Centre.)—
I am old now,
And these vile crosses spoil me ; out of breath,
Fie, oh ! quite out of breath, and spent,
68 KING LEAR .
Alb. Bring in old Kent ; - [ Exit a knight, L.H.] —
and, Edgar, guide you hither
Your father, who, you said was near.
[Exit, Edgar, L.H.
Enter KENT and the KNIGHT, L, H . Kent advan
ces to the King, L.H. and the Knight goes to
his former place.
Lear. Who are you ?
My eyes are none o'th ' best, I'll tell you straight :
(To Albany.) A
Oh, Albany ! Well, sir, we are your captives,
And you are come to see death pass upon us.
Why this delay ?-Or, is't your highness' pleasure
To give us first the torture ? Say you so ?
Why here's old Kent, and I, as tough a pair
As e'er bore tyrant stroke ;-but my Cordelia,
My poor Cordelia here, O pity-
Alb. Thou injur'd majesty,
The wheel of fortune now has made her circle,
And blessings yet stand ' twixt thy grave and thee.
Lear. Com'st thou , inhuman lord, to sooth us back
To a fool's paradise of hope, to make
Our doom more wretched ? Go to ; we are too well
Acquainted with misfortune, to be gull'd
With lying hope ; no, we will hope no more.
(Crosses to L.H.)
Alb. I have a tale t'unfold, so full of wonder,
As cannot meet an easy faith ;
But, by that royal injur'd head, ' tis true.
Kent. What would your highness ?
Alb. Know, the noble Edgar
Impeach'd lord Edmund, since the fight, of treason,
And dar'd him for the proof to single combat,
In which the gods confirm'd his charge by conquest ;
I left e'en now the traitor wounded mortally.
Lear. And whither tends this story?
(Turns back to Centre.)
Alb. Ere they fought,
Lord Edgar gave into my hands this paper,
(He gives the King a paper.)
 KING LEAR . 69
A blacker scroll of treason and of lust
Than can be found in the records of hell :
There, sacred sir, behold the character
Of Goneril, the worst of daughters, but
More vicious wife.
Cord. Could there be yet addition to their guilt ?
What will not they that wrong a father do ?
Alb. Since then my injuries, Lear, fall in with thine,
I have resolv'd the same redress for both.
Kent. What says my lord ?
Cord. Speak ; for methought I heard
The charming voice of a descending god.
Alb. The troops by Edmund rais'd, I have disbanded :
Those that remain are under my command.
What comfort may be brought to cheer your age,
And heal your savage wrongs, shall be apply'd ;
For to your majesty we do resign
Your kingdom, save what part yourself conferr'd
On us in marriage.
Kent. Hear you that, my liege ?
Cord. Then there are gods, and virtue is their care.
Lear. Is't possible ?
7
Let the spheres stop their course, the sun make halt,
The winds be hush'd, the seas and fountains rest,
All nature pause, and listen to the change !
Where is my Kent, my Caius ?
Kent. Here, my liege,
Lear. Why, I have news that will recall thy youth ;
Ha! didst thou hear't ?-or did th' inspiring gods
Whisper to me alone ? -Old Lear shall be
A king again.
Kent. The prince, that like a god has pow'r, has
said it.
Lear. Cordelia then shall be a queen, mark that ;
Cordelia shall be queen : winds catch the sound,
And bear it on your rosy wings to heav'n,
Cordelia is a queen .
Alb. Look, sir, where pious Edgar comes,
Leading his eyeless father. O my liege,
His wond'rous story well deserves your leisure ;
70 KING LEAR .
What he has done and suffer'd for your sake,
What for the fair Cordelia's.

Re-enter EDGAR with GLOSTER, L.H.

Glost. Where's my liege ? Conduct me to his

knees, to hail
His second birth of empire : My dear Edgar
Has, with himself, reveal'd the king's blest restoration.
Lear. My poor dark Gloster !
Glost. O let me kiss that once more scepter'd hand !
Lear. Hold, thou mistak'st the majesty ; kneel
here ;
Cordelia has our pow'r, Cordelia's queen:
Speak, is not that the noble, suff'ring Edgar ?
Glost. My pious son, more dear than my lost eyes.
Lear. I wrong'd him too ; but here's the fair
1 amends.
Edg. Your leave, my liege, for an unwelcome mes
sage.
Edmund, but that's a trifle, is expir'd.
What more will touch you , your imperious daughters,
Goneril and haughty Regan, both are dead,
Each by the other poison'd at a banquet:
This, dying, they confess'd.
Cord. O fatal period of ill -govern'd life !
Lear. Ingrateful as they were, my heart feels yet
A pang of nature for their wretched fall.
But, Edgar, I defer thy joys too long :
Thou serv'dst distress'd Cordelia ; take her crown'd,
Th' imperial grace fresh blooming on her brow :
Nay, Gloster, thou hast here a father's right ;
Thy helping hand to heap blessings on their heads.
Kent. Old Kent throws in his hearty wishes too
Edg. The gods and you too largely recompense
What I have done ; the gift strikes merit dumb.
Cord. Nor do I blush to own myself o'erpaid
For all my suff'rings past.
Edg. Divine Cordelia, all the gods can witness
How much thy love to empire I prefer.
Thy bright example shall convince the world,
 KING LEAR. 71
Whatever storms of fortune are decreed,
That truth and virtue shall at last succeed.
Glost. Now, gentle gods, give Gloster his discharge !
Lear. No, Gloster, thou hast business yet for life ;
Thou, Kent, and I, retir'd to some close cell,
Will gently pass our short reserves of time
In calm reflections on our fortunes past,
Cheer'd with relation of the prosperous reign
Of this celestial pair ; thus our remains
Shall in an even course of thought be past,
Enjoy the present hour, nor fear the last.
(Flourish of Drums and Trumpets.)

Disposition ofthe Characters when the Curtainfalls.

IAN
SIC
PHY
EE NIGHTS
THR K AND .
R GLOSTER . LEAR.
GA KE
ED . NT
.
AL
BA
. A
I
EL

NY
,

Finis .

R.II. CURTAIN . L.H.

From the Press of W. Oxberry and Co.
8, White Hart Yard.
 Orberry's Edition.

CORIOLANUS ; ·

OR, THE ROMAN MATRON,

A TRAGEDY ;

By W. Shakspeare.

WITH PREFATORY REMARKS.

THE ONLY EDITION EXISTING WHICH IS FAITHFULLY MARKED

WITH THE STAGE BUSINESS, AND STAGE DIRECTIONS ,

AS IT IS PERFORMED AT THE

Theatres Koyal.

BY W. OXBERRY, Comedian.

London.

PUBLISHED FOR THE PROPRIETORS, BY W. SIMPKIN, AND

R. MARSHALL , STATIONERS' COURT, LUDGATE-STREET,
AND C. CHAPPLE , 66, PALL-MALL.

1820.
From the Press of W. Oxberry and Co.
8, White-hart-Yard.
 Remarks .

CORIOLANUS .

Shakspeare was on no occasion the poet of manners ; his cha

racters are citizens of the world, and never bear the stamp of any
age or any country. He knew and laid open the human heart in
its strengths, and in its weaknesses, paying very little attention
to what may not improperly be termed the poetical costume of
character. The patrician pride of Coriolanus, the vacillating
thoughtlessness of the mob, the crafty democratic spirit of the
tribunes, all these are qualities as general as the form of man him
self; to many readers this may appear a defect, but it is precisely
from this, whetherdefect or virtue, that the language of Shakspeare
can never grow antiquated till the world has lost its passions and
its thinkings, its virtues and its vices. He speaks the general lan
guage of mankind , and therefore must be understood by all until
that language ceases to be spoken.
The tragedy of Coriolanus is full of bustle, but the plots of
Shakspeare were formed upon a plan and for a purpose, not very
generally understood ; and never practised on the modern stage.
The object of them is, for the most part, to exhibit his characters
in every possible point of view ; and not to surprize by their
wonders, or delight by their variety. Sometimes the plot may be
said to grow out of the peculiar nature of the characters, and it
is this very circumstance that forms one of the most prominent of
Shakspeare's merits.
Coriolanus is a masterly portrait ; his pride is the pride of habit
and mind, and even his submission to his mother is a part and
portion of the same nature ; it is moreover the only link that binds
him to the spectator ; a being entirely removed above human vir
tues and human frailties could have little to interest man, but this
one softness in his character like a green spot in a desert, at once
reconciles us to the surrounding ruggedness. In the last scene this
is more particularly evident ; and it might perhaps be attributed
to Kemble as a defect , that he was too much the Roman, and too
little the Coriolanus of Shakspeare. Yet while we notice this de
fect, let him not be robbed of his fair glory ; —hallowed be the
laurel on his brow ; it has been justly earned, and will not lightly
wither,
Menenius is one of those mixed characters that Shakspeare
delighted to blend with tragedy, as being at once a relief and con
trast ; but Menenius, though excellent to the reader, is not very
effective on the stage ; the contrast he forms is too violent ; he
stands too much alone, and mingles like a stranger in the
group.
The two Tribunes are people who have never died, and never
can die ; they are wandering Jews, destined to perpetual life ; they
are to be found in every city, unchanged in feature or habit ;
patriotism is their watch-word ; but their hatred of patrician
power is purely selfish ; if Coriolanus is consul, " then our office
may during his power, go sleep." It is not Coriolanus the enemy
of the people, but Coriolanus the enemy of their private interest
whom they detest.
The people too, are no less true to nature ; now firm, now
cowardly ; giving this moment, taking away the next ;-trampled
upon by brutal power- and deceived no less cruelly by their
trusted tribunes-we at once hate and love, pity and despise
them . Shakspeare with a masterly hand has here brought before
us the two extremes of arbitrary power, and democratic insolence.
The high pretensions of Coriolanus and his friends, who think
earth made for their own use, and treat men as beasts, can only
be matched by the servility, brutality and ignorance of the people.
There is more sound, political instruction , to be gained from this
single play, than from volumes of heavy essayists :—it is the very
quintessence of history, with a commentary in every line so dis
tinctly visible that he who runs may read.
Volumnia has more of what we might imagine Roman, than
any of the other characters ; her very love is pride ; it is the
 111

hero, the conqueror of Corioli she doats upon, and she contrasts
well, though rather too strongly, with the tender and timid
Virgilia.
There is less of poetical detail in this play, than is usual with
Shakspeare ; but what it thus loses in beauty of language, it gains
in rapidity of action. That it is not so popular as other of his
works, is owing to the heroism of its subject ; or perhaps , to
speak more correctly, from want of its domestic interest ;-it is
indeed, a volume of wisdom, but that is a book which few can read
and still fewer understand.
 Time of Representation.

The time this piece takes in representation, is three hours. The

first act, occupies the space of thirty minutes ;—the second, fifty
five ; the third, thirty ;—the fourth, twenty-five ;—and the fifth,
forty, The half-price commences, generally, about nine o'clock.

T
Stage Directions,

By R.H........ is meant.. Right Hand.

L.H ......... .. Left Hand.
S.E .......... Second Entranee.
U.E ......... .. Upper Entrance .
M.D ...... Middle Door.
D.F...... .. Door in Flat.
R.H.D........ Right Hand Door.
L.H.D..... .. .. Left Hand Door.
 Costume.

CAIUS MARCIUS .
First dress. Scarlet robe, white tunic, flesh dress complete,
black sandals-Second dress .-Rich embroidered cuirass and lam
barakins, scarlet mantle, red sandals, Roman sword and shield.
Third dress .-A white robe.-Fourth dress.-The Toga. -Fifth
dress.- A dark purple mantle, with the cuirass and lam
barakins.
MENENIUS.
Roman cuirass and lambarakins, red sandals and helmet.
SICINIUS.
Roman cuirass and lambarakins.
BRUTUS.
Roman tunic, robes, and sandals.
COMINIUS.
Ibid.
AUFIDIUS.
Roman cuirass and lambarakins, richly embroidered, scarlet
mantle, red sandals, and helmet.
VOLUSIUS.
Roman cuirass and lambarakins, helmet.
•
VOLUMNIA.
A drab coloured cloth dress, to come up to the throat, with train
and long sleeves, trimmed with plain gold lace, a long veil, and
gold band.
VIRGILIA.
White, Ibid.
VALERIA.
Violet-coloured, Ibid. and white veil.
SERVILIA.
Dark,-ibid.
 Persons Represented .

Covent-garilen.
ROMANS.

Caius Marcius Coriolanus .... Mr. Macready.

Cominius.. Mr. Chapman.
Menenius. Mr. Blanchard .
Appius.. Mr. Mears .

Child .. Miss Norman .

PLEBEIANS .

Sicinius .. Mr. Connor.

Brutus... Mr. Comer.
Atkins.
Citizens Messrs. J. Russell.
Barnes.
Menage .
Volumnia... Mrs. Faucit.
Virgilia Miss. Foote.
Valeria .... Mrs. Yates.
Servilia .... Mrs. Coates.

VOLSCIANS .

Tullus Aufidius .... ..... Mr. Egerton.

Volusius Mr. Claremont.

Senators, Lictors, Generals, Soldiers, Matrons,

#
Virgins, &c.
 CORIOLANUS.

ACT I.

SCENE I.- A Street in Rome.

A tumultuous noise within. Enter a company

of Mutinous Citizens , with Clubs, Staves, &c .
R.H.U.E.

1st. Cit. Before we proceed any further, hear me

speak.
All. Speak, speak.
1st. Cit. You are all resolved rather to die, than to
famish ? •
All. Resolv'd, resolv'd.
1st. Cit. First, you know, Caius Marcius is chief
enemy to the people.
All. We know't, we know't.
1st. Cit. Let us kill him , and we'll have corn at
our own price. Is't a verdict ?
All. Let it be done ;-away, away !
2d. Cit. One word, good citizens. Would you pro
ceed especially against Caius Marcius ?
1st. Cit. Against him first : he's a very dog to the
commonalty.
2d. Cit. Consider you what services he has done for
his country ?
1st. Cit. Very well ;—and we could be content to give
him good report for't, but that he pays himself with
being proud.
B
2 CORIOLANUS.
2d. Cit. Nay, but speak not maliciously.
1st. Cit. I say unto you , what he hath done fa
mously, he did it to please his mother, and to be
partly proud ; which he is, even to the altitude of his
virtue .
2d. Cit. What he cannot help in his nature, you
account a vice in him : you must in no way say, he is
covetous.
1st. Cit. If I must not , I need not be barren of ac
cusations ; he hath faults, with surplus, to tire in repe
tition. (Shouts within, L.H. ) What shouts are these ?
the other side o'the city is risen ! Why stay we prating
here ?-To the Capitol ! —
All. Come, come. (Shouts again, L.H.)

Enter CAIUS MARCIUS, L.H. and MENENIUS, R.H.

Mar. What is the matter, you dissentious rogues ?

1st. Cit. We have ever your good word.
Mar. He that will give good words to you, will
flatter
Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs,
That like not 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.
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 ?
(To Menenius.)
Men. For corn at their own rates ; whereof, they say,
The city is well stor❜d.
Mar. Hang 'em ! They say ?—
They'll sit by the fire, and presume to know
 CORIOLANUS . 3
What's done i'the Capitol ;
Making parties strong,
And feebling such as stand not in their liking,
Below their cobbled shoes.
They say, there's grain enough !
Would the nobility lay aside their ruth,
And let me use my sword, I'd make a quarry*
With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high
As I could pick + my lance. (Citizens retire, R.H.)
Men. But I beseech you, what says the other troop ?
Mar. They are dissolved :
They said, they were an- hungry ; sighed forth pro
verbs ;
That, Hunger broke stone walls - that, Dogs must
eat,
That, Meat was made for mouths, -that, The gods
sent not
Cornfor the rich men only. - With these shreds
They vented their complainings ; which being an
swered,
And a petition granted them, a strange one,—
To break the heart of generosity, ‡ 1
And make bold power look pale, they threw their
caps
As they would hang them on the horns o'the moon,
Shouting their emulation. ||
Men. What is granted them ?
Mar. Five tribunes, to defend their vulgar wis
doms,
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.
Men. This is strange.
A quarry among hunters signifies the reward given to hounds
after they have hunted, or the venison which is taken by hunting.
Pitch. High birth.- || Faction .
B 2
4 CORIOLANUS .

Enter FULVIUS, R.H.

Ful. Where's Caius Marcius ?

Mar. Here.- What is the matter?
(Crosses to Fulvius.)
Ful. The news is, sir, the Volscians are in arms.
Mar. I am glad on't,-then we shall have means to
vent
Our musty superfluity.

Enter COMINIUS, LICTORS, SICINIUS and BRUTUS,

R.H.-(Fulvius passes behind to L.H.- Lictors
cross, and range behind Fulvius ;-Sicinius and
Brutus go to the Citizens.)

Com . Marcius, ' tis true, that you have lately told
us,
The Volscians are in arms.
Mar. 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'd wish me only he.
Com . You have fought together ?
Mar. Were half to half the world by the ears, and he
Upon my party, I'd revolt, to make
Only my wars with him :-he is a lion
That I am proud to hunt.
Men. Then, worthy Marcius,
Attend upon Cominius to these wars.
Com . It is your former promise.
Mar. Sir, it is :
And I am constant : *-thou
Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face.
Men. O, true bred !
Com. Your company to the Capitol : where, I know,
Our greatest friends attend us.
(Tribunes and Citizens advance, R.H.)
* Immovable in my resolution.
 CORIOLANUS.. 5
Mar. Lead you on.
[Exeunt Fulvius , Lictors, and Cominius, L.H.
Men. Hence ; to your homes ! -begone.
Mar. Nay, let them follow ;
The Volscians have much corn ; take these rats
thither,
To gnaw their garners. Worshipful mutineers ,
Your valour puts well forth ;-pray, follow. (To Men.)
[ Exeunt Men. and Mar. L.H. Citizens, R.H.
Sic. Was ever man so proud,
As is this Marcius ?
Bru. He has no equal,
Sic. When we were chosen tribunes for the peo
ple,
Bru. Mark'd you his lip, and eyes ?
Sic. Nay, but his taunts.
Bru. Being mov'd, he will not spare to gird the
gods.
The present wars devour him ! He is grown
Too proud to be so valiant.
Sic. Such a nature ,
Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow
Which he treads on at noon. But I do wonder,
His insolence can brook to be commanded
Under Cominius.
Bru. Fame, at which he aims,
In which already he is well grac'd, cannot
Better be held, nor more attain'd, than by
A place below the first ; for what miscarries
Shall be the General's fault, tho' he perform
To the utmost of a man ; and giddy censure
Will then cry out of Marcius, O, if he
Had borne the business !
Sic. Besides, if things go well ,
Opinion, that so sticks on Marcius, shall
Of his demerits * rob Cominius .
Bru.Come ;
Half of Cominius' honours are to Marcius,

Merits and demerits had anciently the same meaning.

B 3
6 CORIOLANUS.
Though Marcius earn'd them not ; and all his faults
To Marcius shall be honours, though, indeed,
In aught he merit not.
Sic. Let's hence, and hear
How the despatch is made ; and in what fashion,
More than his singularity, he goes
Upon this present action.
Bru. Let's along . [Exeunt, L.H.

SCENE II .- An Apartment in CAIUS MARCIUS'

House in Rome.

Enter VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA, r.h.

Vol. I pray you, daughter, sing, or express your

self in a more comfortable sort ; if my son were my
husband, I would freely rejoice in that absence,
wherein he won honour. When yet he was but ten
der-bodied, and my only son ; 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 pleas'd to let him seek danger, where
he was like to find fame : to a cruel war I sent him :
from whence he return'd, 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
seeinghe had proved himself a man. ( Crosses to R.H. )
Vir. But had he died in the business, madam ? How
then?
Vol. Then his good report should have been my son.
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.
* The crown given by the Romans to him that saved the life of a
citizen, which was accounted more honourable than any other.
 CORIOLANUS . 7

Enter SERVILIA, L.H.

Ser. Madam, the lady Valeria is come to visit

you.
Vir. 'Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself.
(Crosses to R.H
Vol. Indeed, you shall not.
Methinks, I hither hear your husband's drum ;
I see him pluck Aufidius down by the hair ;
Methinks, I see him stamp thus, -and call thus ;—
Come on, you cowards, you were got in fear,
Though you were born in Rome :-His bloody brow
With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes ;
Like to a harvest- man, that's task'd to mow
Or all, or lose his hire.
Vir. His bloody brow ! O, Jupiter, no blood.
Vol. Away, you fool ! it more becomes a man,
Than gilt his trophy : the breasts of Hecuba,
When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier
Than Hector's forehead, when it spit forth blood
At Grecian swords ' contending. - Tell Valeria,
We are fit to bid her welcome. [Exit Servilia, L.H.
Vir. Heav'ns bless my lord from fell Aufidius !
Vol. He'll beat Aufidius' head below his knee,
And tread upon his neck, (Crosses to R.H.)

Enter SERVILIA and VALERIA, L.H.

Val. My ladies both, good day to you !

[ Exit Servilia, L.H.
You are manifest housekeepers !
How does your little son ?
Vir. I thank your ladyship ; well, good madam.
Vol. He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum,
than look upon his schoolmaster.
Val. O' my word, the father's son : I'll swear, 'tis
a very pretty boy. O'my troth, I look'd upon him o'
Wednesday half an hour together, he has such a con
firm'd countenance ! I saw him run after a gilded
B 4
8 CORIOLANUS .
butterfly ; and when he caught it, he let it go again ;
and after it again ; and over and over he comes, and
up again ; catched it again : or whether his fall en
raged him, or how ' twas, he did so set his teeth, and
tear it ; O, I warrant, how he mammock'd it !
Vol. One of his father's moods.
Val. Indeed, la, ' tis a noble child.
Vir. A crack, madam.
Val. Come, lay aside your business ; I must have you
play the idle housewife with me this afternoon.
Vir. No, good madam : I will not out of doors.
Val. Not out of doors.
Vol. She shall , she shall, (Crosses to Centre.)
Vir. Indeed, no, by your patience : I will not over
the threshold, till my lord return from the wars.
Val. Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably :
you would be another Penelope : yet, they say, all
the yarn she spun in Ulysses' absence, did but fill
Ithaca full of moths. Come, come, you shall go
with us.
Vir. No, good madam, pardon me ; indeed, I will
not forth.
Val. In truth, la, go with me ; and I'll tell you ex
cellent news of your husband.
Vir. O, good madam, there can be none yet.
Val. Verily, I do not jest with you.
Vir. Indeed, madam ?
Val. In earnest, it's true ; I heard a senator speak
it. Thus it is : the Volscians have an army forth,
against whom Cominius the general is gone, with one
part of our Roman power : -your lord, and Titus Lar
tius, are set down before their city Corioli ; they
nothing doubt prevailing, and to make it brief wars .
This is true, on my honour ; and so, I pray, go with
us.
Vir. Give me excuse, good madam ; I will obey you
in every thing hereafter. [ Exit, R. H.
Vol. Let her alone, lady ; as she is now, she will but
disease our better mirth. [Exeunt, L.H.
 CORIOLANUS . 9

SCENE III.—A Wood, near the Camp of Cominius.

(Shouts, R.H.- Trumpets sound a Retreat.)

Enter COMINIUS, R.H. with Soldiers, Retreating.-(The

Soldiers form themselves on R.H.- Some bear
ing the Banners, some with Swords and Shields,
and some with Spears and Shields.)

Com. Breathe you , my friends ; —well fought ;

We are come off
Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands,
Nor cowardly in retire. -Believe me, sirs,
We shall be charged again. Whiles we have struck,
By interims, and conveying gusts, we have heard
The charges of our friends ;-the Roman Gods
Lead their successes as we wish our own !

Enter APPIUS , L.H.U.E.

Thy news?
App. The citizens of Corioli have issued,
And given to Marcius battle :
I saw our party to the trenches driv'n,
And came in haste away.
Com. How long is't since ?
App. About an hour, my lord . Spies of the Volscians
Held me in chase, that I was forc'd to wheel
Three or four miles about ; else had I , sir,
Half an hour since brought my report.
(Appius retires towards the Soldiers, R.H. U.E.)
Com.(Looking off, L.H.U.E.) Who's yonder,
That does appear as he were flay'd ? O Gods !
He has the stamp of Marcius .
(Marcius within, L.H. U.E.)
Mar. Come I too late ?
Com. The shepherd knows not thunder from a
tabor,
B 5
10 CORIOLANUS .
More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue
From every meaner man's.

Enter MARCIUS, L.H. U.E. - The twelve Lictors move

into the centre, at the back part of the Stage.

Mar. Come I too late ?

Com . Ay, if you come not in the blood of others,
But mantled in your own.
Mar. O! let me clip you ,
In arms as sound, as when I woo'd ; in heart
As merry, as when our nuptial day was done,
And tapers burnt to bedward .
Com. Flower of warriors,
How is't with Titus Lartius ?
Mar. As with a man busied about decrees ;
Condemning some to death, and some to exile ;
Ransoming him, or pitying, * threat'ning the other ;
Holding Corioli in the name of Rome,
Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash,
To let him slip at will.
Com. Where is that slave,
Which told me they had beat you to your trenches ?
Where is he ?
(Appius advances, and Fulvius prepares to seize him.)
Mar. 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.
Com. But how prevail'd you ?
Mar. Will the time serve to tell ? I do not think :—
Where is the enemy ! Are you lords o'the field ?
If not, why cease you till you are so ?
Com . Marcius,
We have at disadvantage fought, and did
Retire to win our purpose .
Mar. How lies their battle ? Know you on which side
They have plac'd their men of trust ?
Remitting his ransom.
 CORIOLANUS . 11
Com. As I guess, Marcius,
Their bands i' the vayward are the Antiates,
Of their best trust : o'er them Aufidius,
Their very heart of hope.
Mar. I do beseech you,
By all the battles wherein we have fought,
By the blood we have shed together,
That you directly
Set me against Aufidius .
Com. Tho' I could wish
You were conducted to a gentle bath,
And balms applied to you, yet dare I never
Deny your asking ; take your choice of those
That best can aid your action ,
Mar. Those are they,
That most are willing .-If any such be here,
That love this painting,
Wherein you see me smear'd ;
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.
{Flourish of Trumpets. - Soldiers shout three times,
and wave their swords.)
If these shows be not outward , which of you
But is four Volcians ? -Follow Marcius ! come.
[ Exeunt. R.H.
(Alarums .- Shouts .-A loud Flourish .- Battle
within.)

SCENE IV. - The Camp of Cominius.

Retreat sounded .- Enter MARCIUS, COMINIUS, FUL

vius, Appius, and Soldiers, R.H. U.E.

Com . (R.H.) If I should tell thee over thy day's

work,
Thou'lt not believe thy deeds ; but I'll report it,
B 6
12 CORIOLANUS .
Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles ;
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.
Mar. ( L.H. ) 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 ; induc'd
As you have been , -that's for my country.
Com. You shall not be
The grave of your deserving ; Rome must know
The value of her own ;
Therefore, I beseech you,
(In sign of what you are, not to reward
What you have done,) before our army hear me.
Mar. I have some wounds upon me, and they smart
To hear themselves remembered. (Crosses to L.B.)
Com. Should they not,
Well might they fester ' gainst ingratitude,
And tent themselves with death Of all the horses ,
(Whereof we've ta'en good, and good store, ) of all
The treasure, in this field achiev'd, and city,
We render you the tenth ; to be ta'en forth,
Before the common distribution , at
Your only choice.
Mar I thank you, general :
But cannot make my heart consent to take
A bribe, to pay my sword : I do refuse it.
(A Flourish of Trumpets, &c.)
May these same instruments , which you profane,
Never sound more ! when drums and trumpets shall
I'the field prove flatterers, let the camps as cities
Be made of false - fac'd soothing. (Flourish again . )
No more, I say ; (Crosses to R.H. )
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 ;
 CORIOLANUS . 13
As if I lov'd my little should be dieted
In praises sauc'd with lies.
Com. Too modest are you ;
More cruel to your good report, than grateful
To us that give you truly therefore, be it known,
(Crosses to R.B.)
As to us, to all the world , that Caius Marcius
Wears this war's garland :
For what he did before Corioli, call him,
With all the applause and clamour of the host,
Caius Marcius Coriolanus. Bear
The addition nobly ever ! —
(Flourish of Trumpets. — Shouts.—&c .)
Cor. I will go wash ;
And when my face is fair, you shall perceive
Whether I blush or no. Howbeit, I thank you .
Com. So, to our tent :
Where, ere we do repose us, we will write
To Rome of our success,
Cor. The Gods begin to mock me : I that now
Refus'd most princely gifts, am bound to beg
Of my lord general .
Com . Take't, ' tis yours.-What is't ?
Mar. I some time lay, here in Corioli,
At a poor man's house ; he us'd me kindly :
While we were fighting here, e'en now,-poor
wretch !
He cried to me ; I saw him prisoner ;
But then Aufidius was within my view,
And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity : I request you
To give my poor host freedom.
Com. O, well begg'd !
Were he the butcher of my son , he should
Be free, as is the wind.-His name ?
Mar. By Jupiter, forgot : -
I'm weary ; yea, my memory is tir'd.
Have we no wine here ?
Com. Go we to our tent ;
The blood upon your visage dries ; ' tis time
 14 CORIOLANUS .
It should be look'd to :--come.
[A March.- Exeunt, R.H.U.E.

END OF ACT I.

ACT II .

SCENE I.- A Street in Rome.

Enter MENENIUS , SICINIUS, and BRUTUS , R.H.

Men. The augurer tells me, we shall have news to

night.
Bru. Good, or bad ?
Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for
they love not Marcius.
Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends .
Men. Pray you, whom does the wolflove !
Sic. The lamb.
Men. Ay, to devour him ; as the hungry plebeians
would the noble Marcius.- You two are old men ; tell
me one thing that I shall ask you.
Both. Well, sir.
Men. In what enormity is Marcius poor, that you
two have not in abundance ?
Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but stor'd with all.
Sic. Especially, in pride.
Bru. And topping all others in boasting.
Men. This is strange now. Do you two know how
you are censur'd here in the city; I mean of us o'the
right-hand file ? Do you ?
Bru. Why,-how are we censur'd ?
Men. Because you talk of pride now.- Will you not
be angry?
Both. Well, well, sir ; well.
Men. You blame Marcius for being proud?
Bru. We do it not alone , sir.
Men. I know, you can do very little alone.- You
talk of pride ! O, that you could turn your eyes towards
 CORIOLANUS. 15
the napes of your necks,* and make but an interior
survey of your good selves ! O, that you could !
Bru. What then, sir ?
Men. Why, then you should discover a brace of un
meriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates , (alias, fools,)
as any in Rome.
Sic. Menenius, you are known well enough too.
Men. I am known to be a humorous patrician, and
one that loves a cup of hot wine, with not a drop of
allaying Tiber, in't : what I think, I utter ; and spend
my malice within breath .
Bru, Come, sir, come ; we know you well enongh .
Men. 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 .- You are a pair of strange
ones .
Bru. Come, come, you are well understood to be a
perfecter giber for the table, than a necessary bencher
in the Capitol.
Men. Our very priests must become mockers, if
they shall encounter such ridiculous subjects as you
are. When you speak best unto the purpose, it is not
worth the wagging of your beards ; and your beards
deserve not so honourable a grave, as to stuff a botch
er's cushion ; or to be entomb'd in an ass's pack sad
dle. Yet, you must be saying, Marcius is proud ;
who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your prede
cessors, since Deucalion : though, peradventure, some
of the best of them were hereditary hangmen. I will
be bold to take my leave of you . (Crosses to R.H.)
(Brutus and Sicinius stand aside.)

Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and VALERIA, R.H.

the moon ,
( and the
How now, my as fair as noble ladies, ` (and
* With allusion to the fable, which says, that every man has a
bag hanging before him, in which he puts his neighbour's faults,
and another behind him in which he stows his own.
16 CORIOLANUS .
were she earthly, no nobler, ) whither do you follow
your eyes so fast ?
Vol. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius ap
proaches ; for the love of Juno, let's go.
(Crosses to L.H.)
Men. Ha! Marcius coming home !
Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius ; and with most pros
perous approbation .
Men. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee :
Hoo ! Marcius coming home !
Vol. Look, here's a letter from him ; the state hath
another, his wife another ; and, I think, there's one at
home for you .
Men. I will make my very house reel to night. — A
letter for me ?
F'ir. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you ; I saw it.
Men. A letter for me ? It gives me an estate of
seven year's health ; in which time, I will make a lip
at the physician.- Is he not wounded ? He was wont
to come home wounded.
Vir. O, no, no, no.
Vol. O, he is wounded, I thank the Gods for't.
Men. So do I too, if it be not too much :-brings he
a victory in his pocket, the wounds become him.
Vol. On's brows , Menenius : he comes the third
time home with the oaken garland .
Men. Has he disciplin'd Aufidius soundly ?
Vol. Titus Lartius writes,-they fought together,
but Aufidius got off.
Men. And ' twas time for him too, I'll warrant him
that : an he had staid by him , I would not have been so
fidius'd for all the chests in Corioli, and the gold that's
in them . Is the senate possess'd of this ?
Vol. 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 .
Val. In troth , there's wondrous things spoke of him .
Men. Wondrous ! ay, I warrant you, and not with
out his true purchasing .
Vir. The Gods grant them true !
 CORIOLANUS . 17
Val. True ?
(Sicinius and Brutus comeforward, R.H.)
Men. True ? I'll be sworn they are true.- Where is
he wounded ? —Heaven save your good worships ! ( To
the Tribunes.) Marcius is coming home : he has more
cause to be proud. Where is he wounded ? (To Val.)
Val. I'the shoulder and i'the left arm. He receiv'd,
in the repulse of Tarquin, seven hurts i'the body.
Men, One in the neck, and two in the thigh,-there's
nine that I know.
Vol. He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five
wounds upon him.
Men. Now it's twenty-seven : every gash was an
enemy's grave.
Vol. He with his single arm subdu'd Corioli.
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 tim'd with dying cries ;
Where'er he went, before him fortune flew,
While victory upon his dreaded brow
Sat thron'd, and joyful clapp'd her silver wings ;
Three times mine eagle singled out Aufidius ,
And thrice the Volscians sunk beneath his thunder,
Bending the knee, as t'were in adoration.
Hark ! hark ! (Flourish of Trumpets, L.H.)
These are the ushers of Marcius ;-before him
He carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears.
[Exeunt, L.H.

SCENE II .-Rome. - A Triumphal Arch.

(Citizens run across, shouting from R.H. U.E.)

An Ovation - Procession enters, R.H. U.E. through
the Arch.- Exeunt, R.H.

ORDER OF PROCESSION.

Trophy.-S. P. Q. R.
Two Banners .- Corioli.- Two Banners.- Civic Crowns.
18 CORIOLANUS .
Two Banners.- Silver Eagles.
Six Fasces, two and two.
ChiefEagle.
Fulvius and Appius.
Two Swords and Shields.- Two Trophies,-Hands.
Two Spears and Shields.
Two Trophies,-Wolves.- Two Swords and Shields.
Fame.
Two Spears and Shields.
Two Golden Eagles.
Two Swords and Shields .- Two Battlements.
Two Spears and Shields.
Two Eagles and Patera's.- Two Swords and Shields.
(As they are going out , three shouts, L.H. U.E. )

SECOND DIVISION.

Four Boys, two and two, in Surplusses with Censers.

Two Priests.- Fires and Staves.
Two Priests- Knives.
Six Girls, bearing the Lamb.
Two Priests- Axes.-Two Priests- Fires.
Six Ladies, two and two. - Six Senators two and two.
(As they go off, three shouts behind, R.H. U.E.

THIRD DIVISION.

S. P. Q. R.
Two Banners- Antium and Volsci.
Ten Musicians, two and two.- Six Fasces, two and two .
Two Trophies- Goat and Boar.
Two Trophies- Raven and Pegasus.
Sextus.
A Bier with Trophies.
Lucius.
Two Trophies- Lion and Ram.
Four Captive Generals, in Chains.
Two Trophies of Arms.
Navius.
Trophies on a Bier.
Aruns.
Two Trophies- Sphinx and Dragon.
 CORIOLANUS . 19
Six Spears and Shields.
(As they go off, shouts, R.H. U.E. )

FOURTH DIVISION.

Choristers.
"See the Conquering Hero comes."
(As they go off, three shouts, R.H. U.E. )

FIFTH DIVISION.

Sextus.Bier with Trophies - Trophies of Arms.

Trophies on Biers.- Range infront ofMusicians.
Fame, exactly in the Centre.
Two Standards— s . P. Q. R. advance R.H. and L.H.
Two Standards- Corioli.
Two Standards-Antium and Volsci.
Two Silver Eagles.
Fulvius and Appius.
Two Standards- Wolves.- Two Standards- Battlements .
Two Standards- Eagles and Patera's.
Sextus and Lucius.
Two Standards- Hands.
Two Standards- Civic Crowns.
Navius and Aruns.
Six Senators.
Brutus and Sicinius.
Six Ladies.
Roman Matrons.
Valeria and Servilia.- Virgilia.
Volumnia.
Two Golden Eagles.
Six Fasces.
Menenius and Cominius.
Coriolanus.
Chief Eagle - Six Fasces -Spears and Shields.
Swords and Shields.

Cor. No more of this, it does offend my heart ;

Pray now, no more.
Com, Look, sir, your mother,
Cor. O ! ( Kneels .)
20 CORIOLANUS.
You have, I know, petition'd all the Gods
For my prosperity.
Vol. Nay, my good soldier, up ; (Cor. rises . )
My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and
By deed-achieving honour newly nam'd,
What is it ? Coriolanus must I call thee ?
But O, thy wife
Cor. My gracious silence,* hail !
Would'st thou have laugh'd, had I come coffin'd home,
That weep'st to see me triumph ? Ah, my dear,
Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear,
And mothers that lack sons.
Vol. I know not where to turn . O welcome home ;
And welcome, general ; -and you are welcome all .
Men. A hundred thousand welcomes : I could
weep,
And I could laugh ; I'm light and heavy.-Welcome !
A curse begin at the very root of his heart,
That is not glad to see thee ! You are three,
That Rome should dote on yet, by the faith of men,
We've 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.
Com. Ever right.t
Give way there, and go on.
Cor. Your hand, and yours. ( To his wife andmother.)
Ere in our own house I do shade my head,
The good patricians must be visited ;
From whom I have receiv'd not only greetings,
But with them change of honours.
Vol. I have liv'd ,
To see inherited my very wishes,
And buildings of my fancy ; only there
Is one thing wanting, which I doubt not but
Our Rome will cast upon thee.
Cor. Know, good mother,

* By my gracious silence, I believe, the poet meant, thou whose

silent tears are more eloquent and grateful to me than the clamor
ous applause of the rest. Ever the same affectionate friend.
 CORIOLANUS . 21
I had rather be their servant in my way ;
Than sway with them in theirs.
On, to the Capitol .
A Grand March - Exeunt Volumnia, Coriolanus,
Virgilia, Cominius, Menenius, Valeria, Ser
vilia, four Matrons, Brutus, and Sicinius.
Scene closes on the rest.— Shouts. - Drums,
&c .

SCENE III - Rome.-A Street.

Enter BRUTUS and SICINIUS, r.h.

Bru. The dumb men throng to see him, and the

blind
To hear him speak : the matrons flung their gloves,
Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchiefs,
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 ;
Such a pother,
As if that whatsoever God, who leads him,
Were slightly crept into his human powers,
And gave him graceful posture.
Sic. On the sudden,
I warrant him consul .
Bru. Then our office may,
During his power, go sleep .
Sic. He cannot temperately transport his honours
From where he should begin, and end ; but will
Lose those that he hath won.
Bru. In that there's comfort.
I heard him swear,
Were he to stand for consul, never would he
Appear in the market-place, nor on him put
The napless vesture* of humility ;
It was a custom for the candidates, during the time of elec
tion, to wear a white Linen Robe, and to appear in public without
a retinue.
 20 CORIOLANUS.

You have, I know, petition'd all the Gods

For my prosperity.
Nay, my good soldier, up ; (Cor. rises .)
My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius , and
By deed-achieving honour newly nam'd,
What is it? Coriolanus must I call thee?
But 0, thy wife
Cor. My gracious silence,* hail !
Would'st thou have laugh'd, had I come coffin'd home,
That weep'st to see me triumph ? Ah, my dear,
Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear,
And mothers that lack sons.
Fol. I know not where to turn . O welcome home :
Ard welcome, general ;-and you are welcome all .
Men. A hundred thousand welcomes : I coul
weep.
And I could laugh ; I'm light and heavy.—Welcome
A curse begin at the very root of his heart ,
That is not glad to see thee ! You are three,
That Rome should dote on : yet, by the faith of men.
We've some old crab-trees here at home, that will 1
Be grafted to your relish. Yet, welcome, warriors !
We call a nettle, but a nettle ; and
The faults of fools, but folly.
Com. Ever right.†
Give way there, and go on.
Cor.Your hai d, and yours. (To his wife andmot
Ere in our own house I do shade my head,
The good patricians must be visited ;
From whom I have receiv'd not only greetings,
But with them change of honours.
Vol. I have liv'd, M
To see inherited my very wishes,
And buildings of my fancy only there
Is one thing wanting, wh I doubt not
Our Rome will cast upon e.ro
Cor. Know, good mot

By my gracious silence, ve, the poet

silent tears are more eloquen grateful to me
ous and of the rest.-+ he same affect
 CULIARE,
23
Outs "
1 .
198
I
- **
******* head
why

R.H.D.
21

B 1
== ***** inius.

To hear tre of
Ladies an eds of

Upon him as
As to Jove's sis
A shower, an..
I never saw
Such a poi
As if that
Were slig
And gave.
Sic. "
I warra 1st,
Bri
Durin
Si
From
Los

pirit
 22 CORIOLANUS .
Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it
In execution.
Bru. 'Tis most like he will.
Sic. It shall be to him then, as our good wills ;
A sure destruction .

Enter FULVIUS, hastily, L.H.

Bru. What's the matter ?

Ful. You're sent for to the Capitol. 'Tis thought,
That Marcius shall be consul.
Bru. Let's to the Capitol :
And carry with us ears and eyes for the time,
But hearts for the event.
Sic. Have with you. [Exeunt, L.H.

SCENE IV.- Rome. - The Capitol.

(Flourish of Trumpets .)
Enter CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS, MENENIUS,
COMINIUS, SICINIUS, BRUTUS , Senators, and
Officers. L.H .- (They take their seats on each
side ofthe Stage.)

Men. (L.H.) Having determin'd of the Volscians,

It remains ,
Most reverend and grave elders, to desire
The present consul, and last general,
To report
A little of that worthy work perform'd
By Caius Marcius Coriolanus ; whom
We meet here, both to thank, and to remember
With honours like himself.
Worthy Cominius, speak.
(Coriolanus, R.H, rises, and offers to go away.)
Sit, Coriolanus ; never shame to hear
What you have nobly done .
Nor, showing (as the manner is ) his wounds
To the people, beg their stinking breaths.
Sic. I wish no better,
 CORIOLANUS . 23
Cor. Your honours' pardon ;
I had rather have my wounds to heal again,
Than hear say how I got them.
Men. (To Cor.) Pray now, sit down.
Cor. I had rather have one scratch my head
i'the sun,
When the alarum were struck, than idly sit
To hear my nothings monster'd .
[Exit, R.H.D.
Men. Masters o' the people,
Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter,
When you now see
He had rather venture all his limbs for honour,
Than one of his ears to hear it ?-Proceed, Cominius .
Com. (Seated in the State Chair, in the centre of
the Stage.) 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 counterpois'd . At sixteen years,
When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought
Beyond the mark of others ;
And, in the brunt of seventeen battles since,
He lurch'd all swords o'the garland . For this last,
Before and in Corioli, let me say,
I cannot speak him home :
Alone he entered
The mortal gate o'the city ; aidless came off,
And with a sudden re-inforcement struck
Corioli, like a planet. Now all's his :
When bye and bye the din of war ' gan pierce
His ready sense then straight his doubled spirit
Requickened 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.
24 CORIOLANUS .
Men, Worthy man !
Com. All our spoils he kick'd at ;
And look'd upon things precious, as they were
The common muck o'the world : he covets less
Than misery itself would give ; rewards
His deeds with doing them ; and is content
To spend the time, to spend it.
Men. He's right noble ;
Let him be call'd for.

Enter FULVIUs, r.h.d.

Com . He doth appear.

Enter CORIOLANUS and FULVIUS, R.H.D.

Men, The Senate, Coriolanus, are well pleas'd

To make thee consul.
Cor. I do owe them still
My life, and services.
Men. It then remains,
That you do speak to the people.
Cor, I do beseech you,
Let me o'er- leap that custom ; for I cannot
Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat them ,
For my wounds ' sake, to give their suffrage : please
you,
That I may pass this doing.
Sic. (L.H.) Sir, the people
Must have their voices ; neither will they bate
One jot of ceremony.
Men. Put them not to't :
Pray you, go fit you to the custom ; and
Take to you, as your predecessors have,
Your honour with the form.
Cor . It is a part
That I shall blush in acting, and might well
Be taken from the people.
Bru. (L.H. to Sic. ) Mark you that?
Cor. To brag unto them,-Thus I did, and thus, —
 CORIOLANUS. 25
Show them the unaking scars which I should hide,
As if I had receiv'd them for the hire
Of their breath only:
Men. Do not stand upon't.
We recommend to you, tribunes of the people,
Our purpose ;-to them, and to our noble consul,
Wish we all joy and honour.
Com . To Coriolanus come all joy and honour !
[Flourish of Trumpets.- Exeunt, R.H.
SCENE V.- Rome. - A Street.
Enter CITIZENs , r.h.

2d. Cit. Once,* if he do require our voices, we ought

not to deny him.
1st. Cit . We may, sir, if we will .
2d. Cit. We have power in ourselves to do it, but
it is a power that we have no power to do ; for, if he
show us his wounds, and tell us his deeds, we are to
put our tongues into those wounds, and speak for them :
so, if he tell us his noble deeds, we must also tell him our
noble acceptance of them . Ingratitude is monstrous,
and for the multitude to be ingrateful, were to make
a monster of the multitude ; of the which we, be
ing members, should bring ourselves to be monstrous
members.
1st. Cit. Here he comes, and in the gown of hu
mility ; mark his behaviour. We are not to stay all to
gether, 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 ho
nour, in giving him our own voices with our own
tongues : therefore, follow me, and I'll direct you how
you shall go by him.
All. Content, content. [Exeunt Citizens, L.H.
Enter CORIOLANUS with Menenius, r.h.

Men. O, sir, you are not right : have you not

known
* Once for all.
с
 26 CORIOLANUS .
The worthiest men have done't ?
Cor. 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 ofyour brethren roar'd, and ran
From noise of our own drums.
Men. O me, the gods !
You must not speak of that ; you must desire them
To think upon you.
Cor. Think upon me ? Hang 'em !
I would they would forget me .
Men. You'll mar all :
I'll leave you. Pray you, speak to ' em, I pray you,
In wholesome manner. [ Exit R.H.

Enter First and Second CITIZENS, L.H.

Cor. So, here comes a brace.- (Aside.)

" You know the cause, sirs, of my standing here.
1st. Cit. We do, sir ; tell us what has brought
you to't.
Cor. Mine own desert.
2d. Cit. Your own desert ?
Cor. Ay, not
Mine own desire.
1st Cit. How ! not your own desire ?
Cor. No, sir :
'Twas never my desire yet to trouble
The poor with begging .
1st. Cit. You must think, if we give you any thing,
We hope to gain by you.
Cor. Well then, 1I pray, your price o'the consulship ?
1st. Cit. The price is, sir, to ask it kindly.
Cor. Kindly !
Sir, I pray, let me ha't ; I've wounds to show you,
Which shall be yours in private.- Your good voice, sir ;
What say you ?
2d Cit. You shall have it, worthysir.
Cor. A match, sir:
 CORIOLANUS. 27
There is in all two worthy voices begged :-(Aside.)
(Crosses to L.H.)
I have your alms ; adieu .
1st Cit . But this is something odd.
2d. Cit. An'twere to give again,-but ' tis no matter.
[Exeunt Citizens, L.H.
Cor. Most sweet voices ! —
Better it is to die, better to starve,
Than crave the hire which first we do deserve.
Here come more voices.

Enter the other CITIZENS, L.H.

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've seen and heard of :—for your voices, have
Done many things, some less, some more : -your
voices :-
Indeed, I would be consul.
3d. Cit. He has done nobly, and cannot go without
any honest man's voice.
4th. Cit. Therefore let him be consul : the gods
give him joy, and make him a good friend to the
people !
All. Amen, amen.
Heaven save thee, noble consul !
[Exeunt all the Citizens, R.H.
Cor. Worthy voices !

Enter MENENIUS, BRUTUS, and SICINIUS , R.H.

Men.You've stood your limitation ; and the tribunes

Endue you with the people's voice : remains,
That, in the official marks invested, you
Anon do meet the senate.
Cor. Is this done ?
Sic. The custom of request you have discharg'd :
The people do admit you ; and are summon'd
To meet anon, upon your approbation.
Cor. Where ? At the senate house ?
 28· CORIOLANUS .
Sic. There, Coriolanus.
Cor. May I then change these garments ?
Sic. You may, sir.
Cor: That I'll straight do : and, knowing myself
again ,
Repair to the senate-house. [Exit, R.H.
Men. I'll keep you company.- Will you along ?
Bru. We stay here for the people.
Sic. Fare you well. [Exit Menenius, R.H.
He has it now ; and by his looks , methinks,
'Tis warm at his heart.
Bru. With a proud heart he wore
His humble weeds : will you dismiss the people ?,

Re-enter all the CITIZENS, R.H.

Sic. How now, my masters ? Have you chose this

man ?
2d. Cit. He has our voices , sir.
Bru. We pray the gods, he may deserve your loves.
1st. Cit. Amen, sir : to my poor unworthy notice,
He mock'd us, when he begged our voices.
3d. Cit. Certainly,
He flouted us downright.
2d. Cit. No, ' tis his kind of speech, he did not
mock us.
1st. Cit. Not one among us, save yourself, but says,
He us'd us scornfully : he should have show'd us
His marks of merit, wounds receiv'd for his country.
Sic. Why, so he did , I am sure.
1st. Cit. No ; no man saw ' em.
He said, he had wounds, which he could show in
private :
Iwould 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,
 CORIOLANUS. 29
I have nothing further with you.-Was not this
mockery ?
Sic. Why, either, you were ignorant to see't ;
Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness
To yield your voices ?
Bru. Did you perceive,
He did solicit you in free contempt,
When he did need your loves ; and do you think,
That his contempt shall not be bruising to you,
When he hath power to crush ?
Sic. Have you,
Ere now, deny'd the asker ? And now again,
On him, that did not ask, but mock, bestow
Your sued-for tongues ?
1st. Cit. He's not confirm'd, we may deny him yet.
3d. Cit. And will deny him :
I'll have five hundred voices of that sound .
1st. Cit. I twice five hundred, and their friends to
piece 'em.
Bru. 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.
Sic. Enforce his pride,
And his old hate unto you :
Say, you chose him
More after our commandment, than as guided
By your own true affections :
Lay the fault on us.
Bru. Ay, spare us not.
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 ; we will.
[Exeunt Citizens, L.H. Sic. and Bru. R.H.
END OF ACT II.
c 3
30 CORIOLANUS.

ACT III.

SCENE I.- Rome.-A Street.

Enter COMINIUS, CORIOLANUS, and MENENIUS . R.H.

Cor. Tullus Aufidius then had made new head ?

So then the Volscians stand but as at first ;
Ready, when time shall prompt them, to make road
Upon's again.
Com. They are worn, lord consul, so,
That we shall hardly in our ages see
Their banners wave again.
Cor. 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. (Crosses to L.H.)

Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS, L.H.

Sic. Pass no further. (To Coriolanus.)

Cor. Ha ! -what is that ?
Bru. It will be dangerous to
Go on : no further.
Cor. What makes this change ?
Men. The matter ?
Com. Hath he not pass'd the nobles and the
commons ?
Bru. Cominius, no.
Cor. Have I had children's voices ?
Men. Tribunes, give way ; he shall to the market
place.
Bru. The people are incens'd against him.
Cor. Are these your herd ?
Must these have voices, that can yield them now,
And straight disclaim their tongues ?-What are your
offices ?
* Plume, deck, dignify themselves.
 CORIOLANUS . 31

You being their mouths, why rule you not their teeth?
Have you not set them on ?
Men. Be calm, be calm. (To Cor.)
Cor. It is a purpos'd thing, and grows by plot,
To curb the will of the nobility.
Bru. Call't not a plot .
The people cry you mock'd them ; and, of late,
When corn was given them gratis, you repin'd,
Scandal'd the suppliants of the people ; call'd them
Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness.
Cor. Why, this was known before.
Bru. Not to them all.
Cor. Have you informed them since ?
Bru. How ! I inform them !
Cor. You are like to do such business.
Bru. Not unlike,
Each way, to better yours.
Cor. Why then should I be consul ? By yon clouds,
Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me
Your fellow tribune.
Men. Well, no more.- (To Cor.)
Cor. How!-no more ?
As for my country I have shed my blood,
Not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs
Coin words till their decay, against those meazels*,
Which we disdain should tetter us, yet sought
The very way to catch them.
Bru. You speak o'the people,
As if you were a God to punish, not
A man of their infirmity.
Sic. "Twere well
We let the people know't.
Men. What, what ? His choler ?
Cor. Choler !
Were I as patient as the midnight sleep,
By Jove, ' twould be my mind.
Sic. It is a mind
That shall remain a poison where it is,
Not poison any further.
* Measels- Mesell is used in Pierce Plowman's vision, for a leper.
C 4
32 CORIOLANUS.
Cor. Shall remain ?
Hear you this Triton of the minnows ? Mark you
His absolute shall?
Shall!
Com. Well, -on to the market-place.
Cor. Whoever gave that counsel , to give forth
The corn o'the storehouse gratis, as ' twas us'd
Sometime in Greece,
Men. Well, well, no more of that.
Cor. I say, they nourish'd disobedience, fed
The ruin of the state.
Bru. Why, shall the people give
One, that speaks thus , their voice ?
Sic. He has spoken like a traitor, and shall answer
As traitors do.
Cor. Thou wretch ! despite o'erwhelm thee !
What should the people do with these bald tribunes ?
On whom depending, their obedience fails
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.
Bru. Manifest treason . (Crosses to R.H.)
Sic. This a consul ? No.
Bru. The Ædiles, ho ! —Let him be apprehended .
Sic. Go, call the people ; (Brutus beckons the
Citizens, who enter immediately, R.H.)
In whose name , myself
34.
Attach thee, as a traitorous innovator,
A foe to the public weal :
Obey, I charge thee,
And follow to thine answer.
(Laying hold on Coriolanus.)
Cor. Hence, or I shall shake thy bones
Out of thy garments .
Bru. Or let us stand to our authority,
Or let us lose it ::-we do here pronounce,
Upon the part o'the people, in whose power
We were elected theirs, Marcius is worthy
Of present death.
 CORIOLANUS. 33
Sic. Therefore, lay hold of him ;
Bear him to the rock Tarpeian, and from thence
Into destruction cast him .
Cor. No ; I'll die here. (Drawing his sword.)
Men. Down with that sword : -tribunes, withdraw
awhile.
I pr'ythee, noble friend, home to thy house ;
Leave us to cure this cause ;-for ' tis a sore
You cannot tent yourself : begone, ' beseech you.
Com. Come, sir, along with us.
Cor. On fair ground,
I could beat forty of them.
[ Exeunt Coriolanus, and Cominius, L.H.
Men. You worthy tribunes,
Sic. He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock
With rigorous hands ; he hath resisted law,
And therefore law shall scorn him further trial.
1st. Cit. He shall well know,
The noble tribunes are the people's mouths,
And we their hands.
All. He shall, be sure on't,
Men. Sir,
Sic. Peace.
Men. Do not cry havock, where you should but
hunt
With modest warrant.
Sic. Sir, how comes't,-that you
Have holp to make this rescue ?
Men. Hear me speak : -
As I do know the consul's worthiness,
So can I name his faults :
Sic. Consul !-What consul ?
Men. The consul Coriolanus..
Bru. He a consul ! .
All. No, no, no, no, no..
Men. If, by the tribunes' leave, and yours, good
people,
I may be heard, I'd crave a word or two ;
The which shall turn you to no further harm,
Than so much loss of time.
c 5
34 CORIOLANUS.
Bru. We'll hear no more ; -
Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence ;
Lest his infection, being of catching nature,
Spread further.
( Citizens rush tumultuously towards L.A.
Men. One word more, one word : —
Proceed by process ;
Lest parties (as he is belov'd,) break out,
And sack great Rome with Romans .
Bru. If ' twere so,
Sic. What do ye talk ?
Have we not had a taste of his obedience ?
Men. Consider this ;-he hath been bred i'the
wars
Since he could draw a sword, and is ill school'd
In boulted 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.
Sic. Noble Menenius,
Be you then as the people's officer.--
(Crosses with Brutus, to R.H.)
Meet on the market-place :-we'll attend you there :
Where, ifyou bring not Marcius, we'll proceed
In our first way.
Men. I'll go and bring him to you.
[ Exeunt; Sicinius, Brutus, and Citizens, R.H.
Menenius, L.H.

SCENE H.- Rome.- An Apartment in Coriolanus'

House .

Enter CORIOLANUS and VOLUMNIA, L.H.

:
Cor. Let them pull all about mine ears ; present
me
Death on the wheel, or at wild horses' heels ;
Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock,
That the precipitation might down stretch
 CORIOLANUS. 35

Below the beam of sight, yet will I still

Be thus to them .
Vol. But hear me, Marcius.
Cor. I muse, my mother
Does not approve me further.
Why did you wish me milder? Would you have me
False to my nature ? Rather say, I play,
Truly the man I am.
Vol. O, sir, sir, sir,
I would have had you put your power well on,
Before you had worn it out.
Cor. Why, let it go. (Crosses to L.H. )
Vol. 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 you were dispos'd,
Ere they lack'd power to cross you.
Cor. Let them hang. (Crosses to R.H.)
Vol. Ay, and burn too.

Enter MENENIUS , L.H.

Men, Come, come, you've been too rough, something

" too rough ;
You must return, and mend it.
Vol. 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.
Men. Well said, noble woman :
Before he should thus stoop to the herd, but that
The violent fit o'the time craves it as physic
For the whole state, I would put mine armour on,
Which I can scarcely bear.
Cor. What must I do ?
Men. Return to the tribunes.
Cor. Well,
What then? What then ?
Men. Repent what you have spoke.
Cor. For them ?-I cannot do it to the gods ;
c 6
36 CORIOLANUS .
Must I then do't to them ?
Vol. You are too absolute ;
Tho' therein you can never be too noble,
But when extremities speak. I have heard you say,
Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends,
I'the war do grow together : grant that, and tell me,
In peace, what each of them by th'other lose,
That they combine not there.
Cor. Tush !-tush !— (Crosses to Centre. )
Men. A good demand .
Cor. Why force * you this ?
Vol. Because that now it lies on you to speak
To the people :
I would dissemble with my nature, where
My fortunes, and my friends, at stake, requir'd
I should do so in honour.
I pr'ythee now, my son,
Go to them ;
Say to them,
Thou art their soldier, and, being bred in broils,
Hast not the soft way, which, thou dost confess,
Were fit for thee to use, as they to claim,
In asking their good loves ; but thou wilt frame
Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far
As thou hast power, and person.
Men, This but done,
Even as she speaks, why, all their hearts were yours ;
For they have pardons, being ask'd, as free
As words to little purpose.
Com. (Behind, L, H . ) Where's Coriolanus ?

Enter COMINIUs , l.h.

Men. Here is Cominius.

Com. I have been i'the market -place : and, sir, 'tis
fit
You make strong party, or defend yourself
By calmness, or by absence ; all's in anger.
Men. Only fair speech.
Com. I think, ' twill serve, if he
* Urge,
 CORIOLANUS . 37
Can thereto frame his spirit .
Vol. He must, and will :
Pr'ythee, now, say you will, and go about it.
Cor. Must I go show them my unbarb'd* sconce ?
Must I
With my base tongue, give to my noble heart
A lie, that it must bear ? Well, I will do't :
Yet were there but this single plot to lose,
This mould of Marcius, they to dust should grind it,
And throw it against the wind.- To th' market
place :-(Crosses to Menenius . )
You have put me now to such a part, which never
I shall discharge to the life.
Com. Come, come, we'll prompt you.
Vol. I pr'ythee now, sweet son ; as thou hast said,
My praises made thee first a soldier, so,
To have my praise for this, perform a part
Thou hast not done before.
Cor. Well, I must do't :
Away, my disposition , and possess me
Some harlot's spirit ! My throat of war be turn'd,
Which quired with my drum, into a pipe
Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice
That babies lulls asleep !
A beggar's tongue
Make motion through my lips ; and my arm'd knees,
Which 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 . (Crosses to R.H.)
Vol. At thy choice then :
To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour,
Than thou of them . Come all to ruin ; let
Thy mother rather feel thy pride, than fear
Thy dangerous stoutness ; for 1 mock at death
With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list. 1
Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck'dst it from me ;
But owet thy pride thyself. (Crosses to R.H. )
Cor. Pray, be content ;
* Bare, uncovered.— † Own.— ‡ Which played in concert with my
drum
38 CORIOLANUS .
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 belov'd
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.
Vol. Do your will. [ Exit, R.H.
Com. Arm yourself
To answer mildly ; for they are prepar'd
With accusations, as I hear, more strong
Than are upon you yet.
Cor. The word is, mildly :—pray you, let us go : —
(Crosses to centre. )
Let them accuse me by invention, I
Will answer in mine honour.
Men. Ay, but mildly.
Cor. Well, mildly be it then ; -mildly !
[Exeunt, Cor. Com. and Men., L.H.

SCENE III.- Rome.-The Forum.

Enter SICINIUS, BRUTUS, and Citizens, R.h.u.e.

Bru. Put him to choler straight : he hath been

us'd
Ever to conquer, and to have his worth*
Of contradiction : being once chaf'd, he cannot
Be rein'd again to temp'rance ; then he speaks
What's in his heart ; and that is there, which looks
With us to break his neck.

Enter CORIOLANUS , MENENIUS, and COMINIUS, L.H.

Sic. Well, here he comes.

Men. Calmly, I do beseech you. (To Cor.)
Cor. (Crosses to centre.) The honour'd gods
Keep Rome in safety, and the chairs ofjustice
Supply'd with worthy men ! plant love among us !
Throng our large temples with the shows of peace,
Pennyworth.
 CORIOLANUS . 39
And not our streets with war !
Men. Amen, amen ! A noble wish.
Sic. Draw near, ye people.
Cor. Shall I be charg'd no further than this pre
sent ?
Must all determine here ?
Sic. I do demand ,
If you submit you to the people's voices,
Allow their officers, and are content
To suffer lawful censure for such faults
As shall be prov'd upon you .
Cor. I am content.
Men. Lo, citizens, he says, he is content:
The warlike service he has done , consider ;
Think on the wounds his body bears, which show
Like graves i'the holy church-yard.
Cor. Scratches with briars.
What is the matter,
That being pass'd for consul with full voice,
I'm so dishonour'd , that the very hour
You take it off again ?
Sic. Answer to us.
Cor. Say then : ' tis true, I ought so.
Sic. We charge you, that you 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 .
Cor. How! Traitor ?
Men. Nay ; temperately :-your promise. (To Cor.)
Cor. 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 hands clutch'd as many millions, in
Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say,
Thou liest, unto thee, with a voice as free
As I do pray the gods.
Sic. Mark you this, people ?
All, To the roek with him ; to the rock with him !
Sic. Peace.
* Established and settled by time.
40 CORIOLANUS .

We need not put new matter to his charge :

What you have seen him do, and heard him speak,
Deserves the extremest death.
Bru. But since he hath
Serv'd well for Rome,
Cor. What do you prate of service ?
Bru. I talk of that, that know it.
Cor. You ?
Men. Is this
The promise that you made your mother ?
Com.Know,
I pray you,
Cor. I'll know no further :
Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death,
Vagabond exile, flaying ; -pent to linger
But with a grain a day, I would not buy
Their mercy at the price of one fair word ;
Nor check my courage for what they can give,
To have t with saying, Good morrow.
Sic. For that he has
(As much as in him lies) from time to time
Envy'd 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,
Even from this instant, banish him our city.
Com. Hear me, my masters, and my common
friends ;
Bru. There's no more to be said, but he is banish'd,
As enemy to the people, and his country :
It shall be so.
All. It shall be so, it shall be so.
Cor. (Rushes forward to the centre.) Ye common
cry* of curs ! whose breath I hate
As reek o'the rotten fens, -whose loves I prize
As the dead carcases of unburied men
That do corrupt my air, -I banish you ;
And here remain with your uncertainty !
* Cry here signifies a troop, or pack.
 CORIOLANUS. 41
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
Deliver you, as most
Abated* captives, to some nation
That won you without blows ! - (Crosses to R.H.fol
lowed by Men. and Com.) -Despising now
For you, the city, thus I turn my back :
There is a world elsewhere.
[The people Shout, and allfollow Coriolanus, R.H.

END OF ACT III.

ACT IV .

SCENE V.- Antium.- A Room in Aufidius's

House.

Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, and VOLUSIUS, R.H.

Volu. Whence is it, Tullus, that our arms are

stopp'd
Upon the borders of the Roman state ?
Why sleeps that spirit, whose heroic ardour
Urg'd you to break the truce, and pour'd our host,
From all the united cantons of the Volscians,
On their unguarded frontier ? Such designs
Brook not an hour's delay ; their whole success
Depends on instant vigorous execution.
Auf. O, my Volusius ! thou, who art a soldier,
A tried and brave one too, say, in thy heart
Dost thou not scorn me ? Thou, who saw'st me bend
Beneath the half- spent thunder of a foe,
Warm from the conquest of Corioli.
Volu. True valour, Tullus,
* Dejected, subdued, depressed in spirit.
42 CORIOLANUS .
Lies in the mind the never-yielding purpose :
Nor heeds the blind award of giddy fortune:
Auf. My soul, my friend, my soul is all on fire ;
Thirst of revenge consumes me ; the revenge
Of generous emulation , not of hatred.
This happy Roman, this proud Marcius, haunts me.
Each troubled night, when slaves and captives sleep
Forgetful of their chains, I in my dreams
Anew am vanquish'd ; and, beneath his sword
With horror sinking, feel a ten- fold death,
The death of honour. But I will redeem,
Yes, Marcius, I will yet redeem my fame.
To face thee once again is the great purpose
For which alone I live.-Till then, how slow,
How tedious, lags the time ! while shame corrodes
me
With many a bitter thought ; and injur'd honour,
Sick and desponding, preys upon itself.

Enter SEXTUS, R.H.

Ha! why this haste ? You look alarm'd.

Sex. My lord,
One of exalted port, his visage hid ,
Has plac'd himself beneath the statue of
The mighty Mars, and there majestic stands
In solemn silence.
Auf. Did you not ask him who, and what he was ?
Sex. My lord, I could not speak ; I felt appall'd,
As if the presence of some god had struck me.
Auf. Come, dastard, let me find this man of terrors.
[Exeunt, R.H.

SCENE II.-A Hall, with the Statue of Mars.

CORIOLANUS, discovered as described above.

Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, R.H.

Auf. Illustrious stranger, -for thy high demeanour

Bespeaks thee such,-who art thou ? What is thy name ?
 COR (OLANUS. 43
Cor. A name unmusical to the Volscians ears,
And harsh in sound to thine. (Uncovering his face.)
Know'st thou me yet?
Auf. Thy face
Bears a command in't ; though thy tackle's torn,
Thou show'st a noble vessel.-What's thy name ?
Cor. (Throwing off his cloak.) My name is Caius
Marcius, who hath done
To thee particularly, and to all the Volscians ,
Great hurt and mischief ; thereto witness may
My surname, Coriolanus.
The cruelty and envy of the people,
Permitted by our dastard nobles, have
Whoop'd me out of Rome. Now, this extremity
Hath brought me to thy hearth . Then if thou hast
A heart of wreak in thee, that will 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 dar'st not this, and that to prove more fortunes
Thou art tir'd : then, in a word, I also am
Longer to live most weary, and present
My throat to thee :
Which not to cut, would show thee but a fool ;
Since I have ever followed thee with hate,
Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast,
And cannot live but to thy shame, unless
It be to do thee service.
Auf. O, Marcius, Marcius,
Each word thou'st spoke hath weeded from my heart
A root of ancient envy.
Let me twine
Mine arms about that body, where against
My grained ash a hundred times hath broke,
And scar'd the moon with splinters ! Here I clip
 44 CORIOLANUS.
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.
Cor. You bless me, gods !
Auf. Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou wilt have
The leading of thine own revenges, take
The one half of my commission ; and set down,
As best thou art experienced, since thou know'st
Thy country's strength and weakness,-thine own
ways : 1
Whether to knock against the gates of Rome,
Or rudely visit them in parts remote,
To fright them, ere destroy. But come, come in :
(Crosses to L.H.)
Let me commend thee first to these, that shall
Say, Yea, to thy desires. -A thousand welcomes !
And more a friend, than e'er an enemy ;
1 Yet, Marcius, that was inuch. Your hand -most
welcome ! [Exeunt, L.H.

SCENE III.- Rome:-A Street.

Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS, L.H.

Sic. We hear not of him, neither need we fear him ;

His remedies are tame.
Bru. We stood to't in good time . Is this Mene
nius ?
Sic. 'Tis he, ' tis he : O, he is grown most kind
Of late. - Hail, sir !

Enter MENENIUS , R.H.

Men. Hail to you both ! (Crosses to L.B. )

Sic. Your Coriolanus, sir, is not much miss'd
But with his friends : the commonwealth doth stand ;
And so would do, were he more angry at it.
Men. All's well , and might have been much better,
if
 CORIOLANUS. 45
He could have temporiz'd.
Sic. Where is he, hear you ?
Men. Nay, I hear nothing; his mother and his wife
Hear nothing from him.
Bru. There is a slave, whom we have put in prison,
Reports, the Volscians with two several powers
Are entered in the Roman territories ;
And with the deepest malice of the war
Destroy what lies before them.
Men. 'Tis Aufidius ,
Who, hearing of our Marcius' banishment,
Thrusts forth his horns again into the world ;
Which were inshell'd, when Marcius stood for Rome,
And durst not once peep out.

Enter APPIUS , R.H.

App. The nobles, in great earnestness , are going

All to the senate-house : some news is come,
That turns their countenances .
Sic. 'Tis this slave ;
Go whip him ' fore the people's eyes : —his raising !
Nothing but his report !
App. Yes, worthy sir,
The slave's report is seconded ; and more,
More fearful, is delivered .
Sic. What more fearful ?
App. 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.
Sic. This is most likely !
Bru. Rais'd only, that the weaker sort may wish
Good Marcius home again.
Sic. The very trick on't.
Men. This is unlikely : (Crosses to R.H.)
He and Aufidius can no more atunet,
Than violentest contrariety.
Let's to the senate-house. [ Exeunt, R.H.
* Stood up in its defence. Unite, come to a reconciliation.
 46 CORIOLANUS.

SCENE IV.-A Plain, near Rome.

Enter R.H. U.E.

Two Men bearing Standards- -Antium and Volsci.

Six Men, with drawn Swords , ranged two and two.
Sextus.
Four Men, with drawn swords, ranged two and two.
Navius.
Four Men, bearing Spears, ranged two and two .
Aruns.
Two Men bearing Spears.
Coriolanus.
Banners- Fish, Dragon, Hawk.
Fourteen Men bearing Spears, ranged two and two .

MOW TO DRESS THE STAGE, AFTER THE PROCESSION.

Two Men with Spears and Shields.

Do. Do. Do.
Do. Do. Do.
Do. Do. Do.
Do. Do. Do.
Two Men with Spears . Two Men with Spears .
Banners - Hawk, Dragon and Fish..
Two Men with Spears.
Aruns.
Two Men with Spears .
Do. Do.
Navius.
Two Men with drawn Swords.
Do. Do.
Sextus .
Two Men with drawn Swords .
Do. Do.
Banners- Antium and Volsci.
Lucius.
Volusius. Aufidius . Coriolanus.
(Flourish of Trumpets.)
R.H.
L.H.
 CORIOLANUS . 47

Cor. No more ;-I merit not this lavish praise.

True, we have driven the Roman legions back,
Defeated and disgrac'd:-but what is done ?
Nothing, ye Volscians.
Come on, my brave companions ofthe war,
Come, let us finish at one mighty stroke
The toil of lab'ring fate, -we will, or perish.
While, noble Tullus, you protect the camp ,
I with my troops , all chosen men of valour,
And well approv'd to day, will storm the city.
(Trumpet sounds a parley, L.H. )

Enter LUCIUS , L.H.

Luc. My lord, a herald is arriv'd from Rome,

To say, a deputation from the senate,
Attended by the ministers of heaven,
A venerable train of priests and flamens,
Is on the way, address'd to you.
Cor. To me !
What can this message mean ? -Stand to your arms,
Ye Volscian troops ; and let these Romans pass
Betwixt the low'ring frowns of double files.
What do they think so lightly of my wrongs,
To slake my vengeance with a few soft words ?
Come, fellow soldiers ; Tullus, come, and see
How I maintain the honours you have done me.
[Flourish of Trumpets. - Exeunt Coriolanus at
tended by all but Aufidius and Volusius.
Volu. Are we not, Tullus, failing in our duty,
Not to attend our general ?
Auf. How ! what said'st thou ?
Volu. Methought, my lord, his parting orders were,
We should attend the triumph now preparing
O'er all his foes at once, -Romans and Volscians.
Come, we shall give offence .
Auf. (Aside.) His words are daggers to my heart :
I feel
Their truth, but am asham'd to own my folly.
48 CORIOLANUS .
Volu . O shame ! O infamy ! the thought consumes
me !
To see a Roman
Borne on our shoulders to immortal fame,
Just in the happy moment that decided
The long dispute of ages, that, for which
Our generous ancestors had toil'd and bled :
To see him then step in, and steal our glory !
O, that we first had perish'd all ! A people,
Who cannot find in their own proper force
Their own protection, are not worth the saving.
Auf. It must have way; I will no more suppress
it,- (Aside.)
Know then, my valiant friend, no less than thee,
His conduct hurts me, and upbraids my folly.
I wake as from a dream. What dæmon mov'd me?
What doating generosity, to exalt him
To the same level, nay, above myself?
To yield him the command of half my troops ?
That, that was madness,
Was weak, was mean, unworthy of a man !
How shall I from this labyrinth escape ?
Must it then be ? What cruel genius dooms me,
In war or peace, to creep beneath his fortune ?
Volu. That genius is thyself. If thou can'st bear
The very thought of stooping to this Roman,
Thou from that moment art his vassal, Tullus :
By that thou dost acknowledge, parent nature
Has form'd him thy superior. But if, fix'd
Upon the base of manly resolution,
- -
Thou say'st, I will be free, -I will command,
I and my country ; -then, - O, never doubt it,
We shall find means to crush this vain intruder :
Even I myself, this hand ;-nay, hear me, Tullus ;
'Tis not yet come to that, that last resource ;
I do not say, we should employ the dagger,
While other, better means are in our power.
Auf.No, my Volusius, fortune will not drive us,
Or I am much deceived, to that extreme :
 CORIOLANUS . 49
We shall not want the strongest fairest plea,
To give a solemn sanction to his fate ;
He will betray himself. Whate'er his rage
Of passion talks, a weakness for his country
Sticks in his soul, and he is still a Roman.
Soon shall we see him tempted to the brink
Of this sure precipice ;-then down at once,
Without remorse, we hurl him to perdition.
(Trumpet sounds, L.H.)
But hark, - the trumpet calls us to a scene
I should detest ; if not from hope we thence
May gather matter to mature our purpose.
[Exeunt, L.H.
SCENE V.- Rome.- A Street.

Enter MENENIUS , L.H. meeting BRUTUS and SICINIUS,

R.H.

Men. O, you have made good work !

Bru. What news ? What news ?
Sic. Pray now, your news ?
Men. You have made good work,
You, and your apron-men ; you that stood so much
Upon the voice of occupation* , and
The breath of garlic- eaters !
Sic. We're all undone, unless
The noble man have mercy.
Men. 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.
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 !
Enter a Troop ofCITIZENS, R.H. S.E.
-
Here come the clusters.
Occupation is here used for mechanics, men occupied in daily
business .
D
50 CORIOLANUS.
You are they (Crosses to them.)
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 deserv'd it.
3. Cit. For mine own part,
When I said, Banish him, I said, ' twas pity.
2. Cit. And so did I.
1. Cit. And so did I ! And, to say the truth, so did
very many of us : that we did, we did for the best ;
and though we willingly consented to his banishment,
yet it was against our will.
Men. You are goodly things,-you voices !—
You have made
Good work, you and your cry* .
But here's Cominius ; he will tell you news.

Enter COMINIUS, and Six Senators, who pass over

to L.H.

Have you prevail'd ? Will he have mercy on us ?

What hope has Rome yet ? How did he receive you ?
Com. He would not seem to know me.
Men. Do you hear ? (To the people.)
Com. Yet one time he did call me by my name ;
I urg'd our old acquaintance, and the drops
That we have bled together. Coriolanus
He would not answer to : forbad all naines :
He was a kind of nothing, titleless,
'Till he had forg'd himself a name i'the fire
Of burning Rome.
Men. Why, so ; you've made good work :
A pair of tribunes that have rack'd+ for Rome,

* Alluding to a pack of hounds.—† To rack, means to harrass by

exactions.
 CORIOLANUS . 51

To make coals cheap : a noble memory !

Com. I minded him, how royal ' twas to pardon
When it was least expected . He reply'd,
It was a bare petition of a state
To one whom they had punished.
Men. Very well ;
Could he say less ?
Com . I offered to awaken his regard
For his private friends. His answer to me was,
He could not stay to pick them in a pile
Of noisome, musty chaff: He said, ' twas folly,
For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt,
And still to nose the offence.
Men. For one poor grain
Or two ? I am one of those ; his mother, wife,
His child, and this brave fellow too, we are the grains
You are the musty chaff ; and you are smelt
Above the moon ; we must be burnt for you.
Sic. Nay, pray, be patient : If you refuse your aid
In this so never- needed help, yet do not
Upbraid us with our distress. But, sure, if you
Would be your country's pleader, your good tongue,
More than the instant army we can make,
Might stop our countryman .
Men. No ; I'll not meddle.
Sic. I pray you, go to him.
Men. What should I do ?
Bru. Only make trial what your love can do,
For Rome, towards Marcius .
Com . He'll never hear him.
Sic. Not ?
Com, I tell you, he does sit in gold*, his eye
Red as ' twould burn Rome ; and his injury
The gaoler to his pity. I kneel'd before him :
'Twas very faintly he said, Rise ; dismissed 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 :

* He is enthroned in all the pomp and pride of imperial splendour .

D 2
 52 CORIOLANUS .

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.
Men. See you yond' coign o'the capitol, yond' cor
ner stone ?
Sic. Why, what of that ?
Men. If it be possible for you to displace it with
your little finger, there is some hope the ladies of
Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him .
Sic. Is it possible, that so short a time can alter the
condition of a man ?
Men. There is differency between a grub, and a
butterfly ; yet your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius
is grown from man to dragon ; he has wings ; he's
more than a creeping thing.
Sic. He lov'd his mother dearly.
Men. So did he me : and he no more remembers his
mother now, than an eight year old horse. 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.
1. Cit. O doleful tidings !
2. Cit. O woeful day !
3. Cit. What will become of us ?
Omnes. Oh ! oh ! oh!
1. Cit Let us seize the two tribunes that did banish
him , and throw them down the Tarpeian rock.
Sic. O, good Menenius, save us !
Bru. Stand our friend !
Men, (Crosses to L.H. ) Not I ; they may hang,
drown , burn , or break your worthless necks from
the rock, ' tis all one to me. [ Exit, L.H.
All. Away with them, away with them !
Com. Hear me, fellow citizens !
Suspend awhile your anger, till you hear
How the entreaties of his mother, wife,
And our most noble matrons , work upon him ;
They yet may bring us peace .
 CORIOLANUS . 53

All. We will, we will. 1

Com. The Roman Gods prosper their embassy !
[Exeunt, Brutus, Sicinius, Cominius, and Senators,
L.H. Citizens, R.H,

END OF ACT IV .

ACT V.

SCENE I.- The Volscian Camp.

DISPOSITION OF THE STAGE WHEN THE ACT COMMENCES.

Twelve Lictors.
Ten Men with Spears and Shields .
Two Battering Rams.
Eight Men with Swords and Shields.
Six Men with Spears and Shields.
Banners-Fish, Antium, Hawk, Volsci and Fame.
Two Men with Spears and Shields.
Two Men with Spears. Raven.
Ram . Appius.
Two Men with Spears and Shields.
Raised Seats for Six Senators. Pegasus.
Six Men with Swords and Shields.
Fulvius.
Two Men with Spears and Shields.
Two Men with Spears and Shields.
Lion. Dragon.
Volusius. Sextus.
Chairs
State

Four Men with Spears and Shields.

.

Aufidius. Sphinx.

Coriolanus . Navius.

Four Men with Spears and Shields.

D 3
54 CORIOLANUS .
Goat.
Lucius.
Two Men with Spears and Shields.
Four Men with Spears and Shields.
Boar.
Antium. Aruns .

R.H. L.H.

Cor. Here, noble Tullus, sit, and judge my con

duct ;
Nor spare to check me, if I act amiss.
Auf. Marcius, the Volscian fate is in thy hand.
(Music at a distance, R.H.U.E. )

Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, young MARCIUS, VA

LERIA, and Roman Ladies, in mourning habits,
R.H. U.E.

Cor. My wife comes foremost ; then the honour'd

mould
Wherein this trunk was fram'd, and in her hand
The grand child to her blood. But, out, affection !
All bond and privilege of nature, break !
Let it be virtuous, to be obstinate.
(Virgilia bows .)
What is that curt'sy worth or those doves' eyes,
Which can make gods forsworn ? (Volumnia bows.)
My mother bows ;
As if Olympus to a mole hill should
In supplication nod : and my young boy
Hath an aspect of intercession, which
Great nature cries, Deny not.- Let the Volscians
Plough Rome, and harrow Italy ;
I'll stand ,
As if a man were author of himself,
And knew no other kin.
Var. My lord and husband !
Cor. 1 melt, and am not
Of stronger earth than others.
 CORIOLANUS. 55
O, a kiss,
Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge !
Now by the jealous queen of heav'n*, that kiss
I carried from thee, dear ; and my true lip
Hath virgin'd it e'er since.-You gods ! I prate,
And the most noble mother of the world,
Leave unsaluted sink, my knee, i'the earth ;
(Kneels .)
Of thy deep duty more impression show
Than that of common sons.
Vol. O, stand up bless'd !
Thou art my warrior ;
I holp to frame thee.- Do you know this lady ?
(Pointing to Valeria.)
Cor. The noble sister of Publicola ,
The moon of Rome ; chaste as the icicle,
That's curded by the frost from purest snow,
And hangs on Dian's temple,
Vol. This is a poor epitome of yours,
(Presenting young Marcius.)
Which by the interpretation of full time
May show like all yourself.
Cor . The god of soldiers,
With the consent of supreme Jovet, inform
Thy thoughts with nobleness ; that thou may'st prove
To shame invulnerable, and stick i'the wars
Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw‡,
And saving those that eye thee !
Vol. Your knee, sirrah . (Boy kneels .)
Cor. That's my brave boy.
Vol. Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself,
Are suitors to you .
Cor. I beseech you , peace :
Or, if you'd ask, remember this before ;
The things I have forsworn to grant, may never
Be held by you denials ?-Do not bid ine
* That is, by Juno, the guardian of marriage, and consequently the
avenger of connubial perfidy.
This is inserted with great decorum. Jupiter was the tutelary
god of Rome.
That is, every gust, every storm.
D 4
56 CORIOLANUS.
Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate
Again with Rome's mechanics :-tell me not
Wherein I seem unnatural :-desire not
To allay my rages and revenges, with
Your colder reasons.
Vol. O , no more, no more !
You have said, you will not grant us 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.
Cor. Aufidius, and you Volscians, mark ; for we'll
Hear nought from Rome in private.- ( Sits. )- Your
request ? (To Volumnia . )
Vol. Think with thyself,
How more unfortunate than all living women
Are we come hither :-
For either thou
Must, as a foreign recreant, be led
With manacles through 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 .
Cor, I have sat too long. (Offers to rise.)
Vol. Nay, go not from us thus.
If it were so, that our request did tend
To save the Romans, thereby to destroy
The Volscians whom you serve, you might condemn us
As poisonous of your honour ; no : our suit
Is, that you reconcile them : while the Volscians
May say, This mercy we have show'd ; the Romans,
This we receiv'd ; and each in either side
Give the all-hail to thee, and cry, Be bless'd
For making up this peace !
Cor. Those walls contain the most corrupt of men,
Insolent foes to worth, the foes of virtue.
Vol. Daughter, speak you ;
He cares not for your weeping, -Speak thou, boy ;
Perhaps, thy childishness will move him more
Than can our reasons. There is no man in the world
 CORIOLANUS . 57
More bound to his mother, ye 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,
Laden with honour .
Auf. See, see, Volusius, how the strong emotions
Of powerful nature shake his inmost soul !
See, how they tear him !-If he long resist them,
He is a god, or something worse than man.
(Aside to Volusius . )
Vol. He turns away :
Down, ladies ; let us shame him with our knees .
Nay, behold us : ( All Kneel . )
This boy, that cannot tell what he would have,
But kneels, and holds up hands, for fellowship,
Does reason* our petition with more strength,
Than thou hast to deny't.- Come let us go: (They rise. )
This fellow had a Volscian to his mother ;
His wife is in Corioli, and his child
Like him by chance :-yet give us our despatch : ---
I am hush'd until our city be afire,
And then I'll speak a little.
Vir. Since, Coriolanus, thou dost still retain,
In spite of all thy mother now has pleaded,
Thy dreadful purpose ; ah, how much in vain
Were it for me to join my supplications !
The voice of thy Virgilia, once so pleasing,
Howshall it hope to touch the husband's heart,
When proof against the tears of such a parent ?
But I must weep .- O, permit me,
To shed my gushing tears upon thy hand,
And take my last farewell !
Cor. Leave me.
Vir. I obey. - How bitter thus to part,
Upon such terms to part, perhaps for ever !
But, tell me, ere I hence unroot my feet,
When to my lonely home I shall return,
Cor. Come and complete my happiness at Antium ,
* Does argue for us and our petition.
58 CORIOLANUS.
You, and my honour'd mother :
There shall you see with what respect the Volscians
Will treat the wife, and mother, of their general .
Vol. Treat us thyself with more respect, my son,
Nor dare to shock our ears with such proposals .
Shall we desert our country,-we , -who come
To plead her cause ? —Ah , no grave in Rome
Would better please me, than a throne at Antium .
"
Cor. Cease, cease, to torture me :
You only tear my heart, but cannot shake it.
By the immortal gods,
Vir. O, vow not our destruction !
(Falling on her knees.)
Vol. Daughter, rise :
Let us no more before the Volscian people
Expose ourselves a spectacle of shame.
Hear me, proud man !-I have
A heart as stout as thine. I came not hither,
To be sent back rejected, baffled , sham'd,
Hateful to Rome, because I am thy mother :
A Roman matron knows, in such extremes,
What part to take.——
Go, barbarous son ; go, double paricide ;
Rush o'er my corse to thy belov'd revenge !
Tread on the bleeding breast of her, to whom
Thou ow'st thy life ! -Lo, thy first victim.
(Drawing a dagger.)
Cor. (Starting from his chair and seizing her hand.)
Ha! C
What dost thou mean ?
Vol. To die, while Rome is free.
Cor. O, set not thus
My treacherous heart in arms against my reason.
Here, here thy dagger will be well employ'd.
Pity me, generous Volcians !-You are men
Must it then be ? -My stifled words refuse
A passage to the throes that wring my heart.
Vol. Nay, if thou yieldest, yield like Coriolanus ;
And what thou do'st, do nobly.
Cor. There,-' tis done :
Thine is the triumph, Nature !-Ah, Volumnia,
 CORIOLANUS . 59

Rome by thy aid is sav'd, -but thy son lost !

Vol. He never can be lost, who saves his country.
Cor. Ye matrons, guardians of the Roman safety,
We grant the truce you ask.
Volscians, we raise the siege.
(Coriolanus turns to the Roman ladies, who retire
in theorder they entered, R.H. U.E.)
Auf.' Tis as we wish'd , Volusius.
But mark me well ; -one offer more
My honour bids me make to this proud man ;
If he reject it,
His blood be on his head. (To Folusius. )
Volu. Well, I obey. (To Aufidius.)
(When Coriolanus returns, Volusius and the
officers , L. advance to centre of the Stage ;
three standards in centre come forward to
officers ; the bearers of swords and shields
also advance. Volsci and Fame, bearers of
spears, from R.H.U.E. advance. )
Cor. I plainly, Tullus, by your looks perceive
You disapprove my conduct.
Auf. I mean not to assail thee with the clamour
Of loud reproaches and the war of words ;
But, pride apart , and all that can pervert
The light of steady reason, here to make
A candid fair proposal .
Cor. Speak, I hear thee.
Auf. I need not tell thee, that I have perform'd
My utmost promise. Thou hast been protected ;
Hast had thy amplest, most ambitious wish ;
Thywounded pride is heal'd, thy dear revenge
Completely sated ; and, to crown thy fortune,
At the same time, thy peace with Rome restor❜d.
Thou art no more a Volscian , but a Roman .
Return, return ; thy duty calls upon thee
Still to protect the city thou hast sav'd ;
It still may be in danger from our arms.
Retire : I will take care thou mayst with safety.
Cor. With safety ?—Heavens ! —and think'st tho
Coriolanus
Will stoop to thee for safety ?-No ! my safeguard
D 6
60 CORIOLANUS .
Is in myself, a bosom void of blame
O, 'tis an act of cowardice and baseness,
To seize the very time my hands are fetter'd
By the strong chain of former obligation ,
The safe, sure, moment to insult me.-gods !
Were I now free , as on that day I was I
When at Corioli I tam'd thy pride,
This had not been.
Auf. Thou speak'st the truth ; it had not.
O, for that time again ! propitious gods,
Ifyou will bless me, grant it !-Know, for that,
For that dear purpose, I have now propos'd
Thou should'st return. I pray thee, Marcius, do it ;
And we shall meet again on nobler terms.
Cor. Till I have clear'd my honour in your council ,
And prov'd before them all, to thy confusion,
The falsehood of thy charge ; as soon in battle
I would before thee fly, and howl for mercy,
As quit the station they have here assigned me.
(Crosses to R.H. )
Auf. Thou canst not hope acquittal from the
Volscians.
Cor. 1 do - nay more, expect their approbation,
Their thanks . I will obtain them such a peace
As thou durst never ask ; a perfect union
Of their whole nation with imperial Rome,
In all her privileges, all her rights ;
By thejust gods, I will.- What would'st thou more ?
Auf. What would I more, proud Roman ? This
I would,
Fire the curst forest where these Roman wolves
Haunt and infest their nobler neighbours round them ;
Extirpate from the bosom of this land
A false perfidious people, who, beneath
The mask of freedom , are a combination
Against the liberty of human kind,
The genuine seed of outlaws and of robbers.
Cor. The seed of gods.-'Tis not for thee, vain
boaster,
'Tis not for such as thou ,-so often spar'd
By her victorious sword, to speak of Rome ,
 CORIOLANUS . 61
But with respect, and awful veneration.
Whate'er her blots, whate'er her giddy factions,
There is more virtue in one single year
Of Roman story, than your Volscian annals
Can boast through all their creeping dark duration .
Auf. I thank thy rage :-this full displays the
traitor.
Cor. Traitor !-how now ? C
Auf. Ay, traitor, Marcius.
Cor. Marcius !
Auf. 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 whin'd and roar'd away your victory ?
That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart
Look'd wond'ring each at other.
Cor. Hear'st thou, Mars ?
Auf. Name not the god, thou boy of tears.
Cor, Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart
Too great for what contains it.- Boy !34
Cut me to pieces, Volscians ; men and lads,
Stain all your edges on me.-Boy !
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 !-But let us part ;
Lest my rash hand should do a hasty deed
My cooler thought forbids.
Auf. I court
The worst thy sword can do ; while thou from me,
Hast nothing to expect, but sore destruction ;
Quit then this hostile camp . Once more I tell thee,
Thou art not here one single hour in safety.
Cor. O, that I had thee in the field,
62 CORIOLANUS.
With six Aufidiuses, or more, thy tribe,
To use my lawful sword,
Volu. Insolent villain ! (Volusius and other Fol
scian Officers draw, and kill Coriolanus . )
Auf. My lords when you shall know
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.
My rage is gone,
And I am struck with sorrow.
Bear from hence his body.
Let him be regarded
As the most noble corse, that ever herald
Did follow to his urn.
Beat, beat the drum , that it speak mournfully :
( Muffled drum .)
Trail your steel pikes. (the Army lower their spears
and ensigns.)- Though in your city he
Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one,
Which to this hour bewail the injury,
Yet he shall have a noble memory .
(A dead march sounded.)

Disposition of the Characters when the Curtain falls.

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R.H. CURTAIN. .H.

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 (10

Orberry's Edition.

VENICE PRESERVED,

A TRAGEDY;

By Thomas Otway.

WITH PREFATORY REMARKS.

THE ONLY EDITION EXISTING WHICH IS FAITHFULLY MARKED

WITH THE STAGE BUSINESS, AND STAGE DIRECTIONS .

AS IT IS PERFORMED AT THE

Theatres Royal.

BY W. OXBERRY, Comedian.

London.

PUBLISHED FOR THE PROPRIETORS, BY W. SIMPKIN, AND

R. MARSHALL, STATIONERS' COURT, LUDGATE-STREET;
AND C. CHAPPLE, 66, PALL-MALL.

1820.
Oxberry and Co. Printers,
8, White Hart Yard.
 Remarks,

VENICE PRESERVED.

Bigotry is not confined to religious opinions ; there is a bigotry of

politics, of poetry, of science, and of art, and wherever it occurs, it
is distinguished by the same ferocious, narrow spirit, the same devo
tion to itself, and utter abhorrence of all without it ; above all things,
it dreads innovation of any kind, however requisite and however plau
sible in appearance ; we know therefore well what to expect in offering
our opinions upon Otway, for they unfortunately are at variance with
those generally entertained : we think that his merits have been much
over-rated, and cannot consent to give up our ideas, though they want
the sanction of the world.
There are, no doubt, many poetical passages in “ Venice Preserved,"
but not one of transcendent excellence, not one that the memory loves
to dwell upon, not one that becomes, as it were, a part of our habitual
thinking ; yet many such passages may be found in the neglected Ford
and Webster, and not a few in Decker. Nay, the general tone of this
play is prosaic : it is indeed measured, but there is neither poetry of
thought nor of expression : it is prose without the variety of prose :
there is no distinction of language in the different speakers ; the blus
tering of Pierre and the whining of Jaffier are in the same tone, and
that by no means an agreeable one. As a specimen of this prose in
fetters, the following lines, not selected, but taken at random, may
be offered :
" Ren. You, Durand, with your thousand, must possess
St. Mark's ; you, captain, know your charge already ;
'Tis to secure the ducal palace.
Be all this done with the least tumult possible,
'Till in each place you post sufficient guards :
Then sheathe your swords in every breast you meet.
Jaf. Oh! reverend cruelty ! damn'd bloody villain !
 ii

Ren. During this execution, Durand, you

Must in the midst keep your battalia fast ;
And, Theodore, be sure to plant the cannon
That may command the streets ;
This done, we'll give the general alarm ,
Apply petards, and force the ars❜nal gates ;
Then fire the city round in several places,
Or with our cannon (if it dare resist)
Batter to ruin."
Again :
" Spin. Let us all draw our swords, and search the house,
Pull him from the dark hole where he sits brooding
O'er his cold fears, and each man kill his share of him."
This last idea of each man killing his share is sufficiently ludicrous ;
but let it pass .
In the plot and characters there is a lamentable want of variety ; in
deed there is very little more than the main action to fill up the five
acts ; we see Pierre but in one relation, as a conspirator, Jaffier but
as a lover, Belvidera but as- we know not what-a nothing. After all
too, the principal character, Pierre, is a copy from Shakspeare's Cas
sius, but how inferior to the original ; Cassius does not flit before us
like a shadow he is with us bodily : the very depths of his mind are
disclosed, and that not by description, but by action, and the peculiar
expression of his thoughts : his soliloquies upon Brutus, his utter reck
less defiance of the storm which seems to shake the world, and sever
the laws of nature, his suspicion in regard to Anthony, his quarrel with
Brutus, his doubts before the battle, and finally his death, all tend to
bring out the character with wonderful truth and energy. We do not
mean to impute it as a fault to Otway that he is inferior to Shakspeare,
for who has equalled him ? we only meant to illustrate our opinions by
the comparison.
Much has been said about Otway's pathos ; that he does possess this
power is true, but most assuredly not in the degree or of the kind
which is usually supposed : he is not so pathetic as Ford, he is not so
pathetic as Webster; Shakspeare of course is left out of the question ;
in the scene between Jaffier and Belvidera, when the former is about
to stab his wife, there is great pathos of situation, but very little of
language. In the last scene also, there is the same merit, and the same
defect ; the situation is eminently pathetic, the language is worse than
nothing ; it is the language of delirium, not of madness, two maladies
 iii
totally distinct from each other. To imagine situations of distress,
however acute, is no difficult thing : to give appropriate speech to them,
is indeed a task for genius, but this genius Otway had not : he had lit
tle power over language, and though he may be a great writer, is cer
tainly not a great poet. 1
And here we are tempted to give one short extract from Webster ; it
is exquisitely beautiful, and will serve to show we have not spoken at
random. It should, however, be premised, that the subject leading to
the lines is briefly this ; the Duchess of Malfy marries her steward,
and her brothers, in revenge, by several horrid schemes, endeavour
to break her heart : finding all the efforts to this end ineffectual, they
cause her to be strangled by their agent Bosola- the deed is done
Ferdinand enters.
" Fer. Is she dead ?
Bos. She is what you would have her.
Fix your eye here.
Fer. Constantly.
Bos. Do you not weep ?
Other sins only speak, murder shrieks out :
The element of water moistens th' earth,
But blood flies upwards, and bedews the heavens.
Fer. Cover her face : mine eyes dazzle- she died young.
Bos. I think not so : her infelicity
Seem'd to have years too many.
Fer. She and I were twins ;
And should I die this instant, I had lived
Her time to a minute."
This is indeed pathos, and the sublime of poesy : how exquisitely
beautiful the reluctance of Bosola to name his deed : he can not say
she is dead " She is what you would have her."-How touching the
relenting speeches of Ferdinand- " She died young," —and his remark
that they were twins. For our own parts, we do not envy those who
can read this extract with dry eyes, if indeed it be possible to any one ;
language so simple, yet at the same time so poetical and energetic, is
no where else to be found but in Ford, and that immortal genius which
leaves behind it all human efforts at a hopeless distance. But Web- .
ster lived in a happy period ; there were neither newspapers nor Scotch
critics ; none of those self-elected centinels, who have placed them
selves on the road to Parnassus, and who with the bayonets of criti
cism would drive back all visitors to the god of poesy, except their
 iv
friends and countrymen ; none of those heavy scribblers, who think
it their own merit that they can censure the works of others, pulling
down every thing, and building up nothing. It was not then the cus
tom to damn every attempt at strong writing by the name of German
and melo-dramatic horrors.
Thomas Otway was the son of the Rev. Mr. Humphrey Otway, rector
of Wolbeding, in Sussex, and was born at Trotton in that county,
the 3rd. of March, in the year 1651. He received his education at
Wickeham school, near Winchester, and became a commoner of Christ
Church, in Oxford, in 1669. But on his quitting the university, in
1674, and coming to London, he turned player. His success as an
actor was but indifferent, having made only one attempt in Mrs. Behn's
tragedy of " The Forced Marriage : or, Jealous Bridegroom." He
was more valued for the sprightliness of his conversation and the acute
ness of his wit ; which gained him the friendship of the Earl of Ply
mouth, who procured him a cornet's commission in the troops which
then served in Flanders. After this, he had recourse to writing for the
stage and now it was that he found out the only employment that na
ture seemed to have fitted him for. After experiencing many reverses
of fortune, in regard to his circumstances, but generally changing for
the worse, he at last died wretchedly in a house, known by the sign of
the Bull, on Tower-Hill, April 14, 1685 ; whither he had retired to
avoid the pressure of his creditors. Some have said, that downright
hunger compelling him to fall too eagerly upon a piece of bread, of
which he had been some time in want, the first mouthful choked him,
and instantly put a period to his days.
His dramatic writings are : -Alcibiades, T. 4to. 1675.- Don Car
los, Prince of Spain, T. 4to. 1676.- Titus and Berenice, T. 4to.
1677.- The Cheats of Scapin, F. 4to. 1677.- Friendship in Fashion,
C. 4to. 1678.- Caius Marius, T. 4to. 1680 , 1692.-The Orphan, T.
4to. 1680.- The Soldier's Fortune, C. 4to. 1681.- Venice Preserved,
T. 4to. 1682.- The Atheist ; or, The Second Part of the Soldier's
Fortune, C. 4to. 1684.
 PROLOGUE.

IN these distracted times, when each man dreads

The bloody stratagems of busy heads ;
When we have fear'd three years we know not what,
"Till witnesses begin to die o'the rot,
What made our poet meddle with a plot ?
Was't that he fancied for the very sake
And name of plot, his trifling play might take ?
For there's not in't one inch-board evidence,
But ' tis, he says, to reason plain and sense,
And that he thinks a plausible defence. }
Were truth by sense and reason to be tried ;
Sure all our swearers might be laid aside.
No, of such tools our author has no need,
To make his plot, or make his play succeed :
He, of black bills has no prodigious tales,
Or Spanish pilgrims cast ashore in Wales ;
Here's not one murther'd magistrate at least,
Kept rank, like ven'son for a city feast ;
Grown four days stiff, the better to prepare
And fit his pliant limbs to ride in chair :
Yet here's an army rais'd, tho' under-ground,
But no man seen, nor one commission found :
Here is a traitor too , that's very old,
Turbulent, subtle, mischievous , and bold,
Bloody, revengeful, and to crown his part,
Loves fumbling with a wench with all his heart ;
"Till after having many changes past,
In spite of age (thanks t' heaven) is hang'd at last.
Next is a senator, that keeps a whore ;
In Venice none a higher office bore :
 E
:
To lewdness every night the letcher ran
Show me, all London, such another man ;
Match him at mother Creswold's, if you can.
O, Poland ! Poland ! had it been thy lot,
T have heard in time of this Venetian plot :
Thou surely chosen had'st one king from thence,
And honour'd them as thou hast England since.

P
 EPILOGUE.

THE text is done, and now for application,

And when that's ended, pass your approbation.
Though the conspiracy's prevented here,
Methinks I see another hatching there ;
And there's a certain faction fain would sway,
If they had strength enough, and damn this play ;
But this the Author bade me boldly say :
If any take this plainness in ill part,
He's glad on't from the bottom of his heart :
Poets in honour of the truth should write,
With the same spirit brave men for it fight.
And though against him causeless hatreds rise,
And daily where he goes of late, he spies
The scowls of sullen and revengeful eyes ; }
"Tis what he knows, with much contempt to bear,
And serves a cause too good to let him fear :
He fears no poison from an incens'd drab,
No ruffian's five-foot sword, nor rascal's stab ;
Nor any other snares of mischief laid,
Not a Rose-alley cudgel-ambuscade,
From any private cause where malice reigns,
Or general pique all blockheads have to brains :
Nothing shall daunt his pen when truth does call ;
No, not the picture-mangler* at Guild-Hall.
The rebel tribe, of which that vermin's one,
Have now set forward, and their course begun ;
And while that prince's figure they deface,
As they before had massacred his name,
Durst their base fears but look him in the face,
They'd use his person as they've us'd his fame :

* The rascal that cut the Duke of York's picture.

A face in which such lineaments they read
Of that great martyr's, whose rich blood they shed,
That their rebellious hate they still retain,
And in his son would murder him again.
With indignation then let each brave heart
Rouze, and unite, to take his injur'd part ;
Till royal love and goodness call him home,
And songs of triumph meet him as he come ;
"Till heav'n his honour, and our peace restore ;
And villains never wrong his virtue more.
 Costume.

PRIULI.
Black velvet doublet, breeches and robe, trimmed with jet buttons,
and black braid, black shoes, roses, and silk stockings.
JAFFIER.
Black velvet doublet and breeches, black satin vest, trimmed , black
silk braid, and jet buttons , black satin scarf, black shoes, roses, and
silk stockings, vandyke, black hat, and plume of ostrich feathers, black
sword.
PIERRE.
First dress.-Jacket and pantaloons of buff kerseymere, blue Vene
tian fly. Second dress.- Ornamented richly with silver, black hat,
plume of scarlet ostrich feathers, pair of buff gauntlets, russet boots ,
scarlet roquelaure, and sword.
BEDAMAR.
Blue doublet and breeches trimmed with gold, russet boots, black
hat, and plume of feathers.
DUKE.
Crimson velvet dress, with robe richly embroidered with gold.
RENAULT.
Black velvet doublet, breeches , and cloak embroidered with gold.
CONSPIRATORS.
Various coloured richly embroidered Venetian dresses.
GUARDS.
Grey doublets, breeches, and grey hats.
SENATORS.
Black gowns with ermine capes, small black caps trimmed with er
mine.
BELVIDERA.
First dress.- Black velvet, trimmed with gold, black and gold dra
pery.- Second dress.-White muslin, ibid.
 Persons Represented.

Drury Lane. Covent Garden.

Duke ofVenice.. Mr. Thompson. Mr. Atkins.
Priuli ... Mr. Powell. Mr. Egerton.
Jaffier. Mr. Kean. Mr. C. Kemble.
Pierre... Mr. Booth. Mr. Young.
Renault.. Mr. Meredith. Mr. Chapman.
Spinosa .. Mr. Miller. Mr. Claremont.
Bedamar Mr. Penley. Mr. Connor.
Captain of the Guard. Mr. Marshall . Mr. Jeffries.
Officer... Mr. Cooke. Mr.Treby.
Elliot Mr. Kent. Mr. Comer.
Theodore Mr. Coveney. Mr. King.
Mezzana Mr. Buxton. Mr. George.
Durand.... Mr. Ebsworth. Mr. Grant.
Belvidera.... Mrs. W. West. Miss O'Neill.

Time of Representation.

The time this piece takes in representation is about two hours and
thirty-six minutes.-The first act occupies the space of twenty-eight
minutes ;-the second, twenty-five ;-the third, thirty-six ;-the fourth,
thirty-five ;-and the fifth, thirty-two.-The half-price commences
generally about nine o'clock.

Stage Directions .

By R.H.... is meant.. Right Hand.

L.H. Left Hand.
S.E...... Second Entrance.
U.E. Upper Entrance.
M.D.. Middle Door.
D.F.... Door in Flat.
R.H.D... Right Hand Door.
L.H.D. Left Hand Door.
 VENICE PRESERVED .

ACT I.

SCENE I - A Street in Venice.

Enter PRIULI and JAFFIER, L.H.

Pri. No more ! I'll hear no more ! Be gone, and

leave me.
Jaf. Not hear me ! By my sufferings but you shall !
My lord, my lord ! I'm not that abject wretch
You think me. Patience ! where's the distance throws
Me back so far , but I may boldly speak
In right, though proud oppression will not hear me ?
Pri. Have you not wrong'd me ?
Jaf. Could my nature e'er
Have brook'd injustice, or the doing wrongs,
I need not now thus low have bent myself
To gain a hearing from a cruel father.
Wrong'd you ?
Pri. Yes, wrong'd me ! In the nicest point,
The honour of my house, you've done me wrong.
You may remember (for I now will speak,
And urge its baseness) when you first came home
From travel, with such hopes as made you look'd on,
By all men's eyes, a youth of expectation ;
Pleas'd with your growing virtue, I receiv'd you ;
Courted, and sought to raise you to your merits ;
My house, my table, nay, my fortune too,
B
2 VENICE PRESERVED .
My very self was yours ; you might have us'd me
To your best service ; like an open friend
I treated, trusted you , and thought you mine :
When, in requital of my best endeavours,
You treacherously practis d to undo me ;
Seduc'd the weakness of my age's darling,
My only child, and stole her from my bosom.
Oh Belvidera !
Jaf. 'Tis to me you owe her :
Childless you had been else, and in the grave
Your name extinct ; no more Priuli heard of.
You may remember, scarce five years are past,
Since in your brigantine you sail'd to see
The Adriatic wedded by our duke ;*
And I was with you : your unskilful pilot
Dash'd us upon a rock ; when to your boat
You made for safety : enter'd first yourself;
Th' affrighted Belvidera following next,
As she stood trembling on the vessel's side,
Was, by a wave, wash'd off into the deep ;
When instantly I plung'd into the sea,
And buffeting the billows to her rescue,
Redeem'd her life with half the loss of mine.
Like a rich conquest, in one hand I bore her,
And with the other dash'd the saucy waves,
That throng'd and press'd to rob me of my prize.
I brought her, gave her to your despairing arms :
Indeed you thank'd me ; but a nobler gratitude
Rose in her soul : for from that hour she lov'd me,
Till for her life she paid me with herself.
Pri. You stole her from me ; like a thief you stole
her,
At dead of night ! that cursed hour you chose
To rifle me of all my heart held dear.
May all your joys in her prove false, like mine ;
A sterile fortune, and a barren bed,
It was an annual custom among the Venetians to form a naval
procession, and the Doge at their head, threw a ring into the Adriatic,
as a kind of marriage or agreement, that the seas should be obedient
to his will.
 VENICE PRESERVED. 3
Attend you both ; continual discord make
Your days and nights bitter and grievous ; still
May the hard hand of a vexatious need
Oppress and grind you ; till at last you find
The curse of disobedience all your portion.
Jaf. Half of your curse you have bestow'd in vain :
Heav'n has already crown'd our faithful loves
With a young boy, sweet as his mother's beauty :
May he live to prove more gentle than his graudsire ,
And happier than his father.
Pri. Rather live
To bait thee for his bread, and din your ears
With hungry cries ; whilst his unhappy mother
Sits down and weeps in bitterness of want.
Jaf. You talk as if 'twould please you .
Pri. 'Twould, by heav'n !
Jaf. Would I were in my grave !
Pri. And she too with thee :
For, living here, you're but my curst remembrancers,
I once was happy.
Jaf.You use me thus, because you know my soul
Is fond of Belvidera. You perceive
My life feeds on her, therefore thus you treat me.
Oh ! could my soul ever have known satiety ;
Were I that thief, the doer of such wrongs
As you upbraid me with, what hinders me
But I might send her back to you with contumely,
And court my fortune where she would be kinder ?
Pri. You dare not do't.
Jaf. Indeed, my lord, I dare not.
My heart, that awes me, is too much my master :
Three years are past, since first our vows were plighted ,
During which time, the world must bear me witness,
I've treated Belvidera like your daughter,
The daughter of a senator of Venice :
Distinction, place, attendance, and observance,
Due to her birth, she always has commanded.
Out of my little fortune I've done this ;
Because (though hopeless e'er to win your nature)
B2
4 VENICE PRESERVED.
The world might see I lov'd her for herself :
Not as the heiress of the great Priuli.
Pri. No more .
Jaf. Yes, all, and then adieu for ever.
There's not a wretch, that lives on common charity,
But's happier than me : for I have known
The luscious sweets of plenty ; every night
Have slept with soft content about my head,
And never wak'd, but to ajoyful morning ;
Yet now must fall , like a full ear of corn,
Whose blossom ' scap'd, yet's wither'd in the ripening.
Pri. Home, and be humble ; study to retrench ;
Discharge the lazy vermin of thy hall,
Those pageants of thy folly :
Reduce the glitt'ring trappings of thy wife
To humble weeds, fit for thy little state :
Then, to some suburb cottage both retire ;
Drudge to feed loathsome life ; get brats and starve
Home, home, I say. -
[Exit, R.H.
Jaf. Yes, if my heart would let me
This proud, this swelling heart : home I would go,
But that my doors are hateful to my eyes,
Fill'd and damm'd up with gaping creditors,
Watchful as fowlers when their game will spring .
I've now not fifty ducats in the world,
Yet still I am in love, and pleas'd with ruin.
Oh ! Belvidera ! Oh ! she is my wife—
And we will bear our wayward fate together,
But ne'er know comfort more.

Enter PIERRE, L.H.

Pier. My friend, good morrow,

How fares the honest partner of my heart ?
What, melancholy ! not a word to spare me ?
Jaf. I'm thinking, Pierre, how that damn❜d starving
quality,
Call'd honesty, got footing in the world.
Pier. Why, powerful villany first set it up,
 VENICE PRESERVED . 5

For its own ease and safety. Honest men

Are the soft easy cushions on which knaves
Repose and fatten . Were all mankind villains,
They'd starve each other ; lawyers would want practice,
Cut-throats rewards : each man would kill his brother
Himself; none would be paid or hang'd for murder.
Honesty ! 'twas a cheat invented first
To bind the hands of bold deserving rogues,
That fools and cowards might sit safe in power,
And lord it uncontroll'd above their betters.
Jaf. Then honesty is but a notion ?
Pier. Nothing else ;
Like wit, much talk'd of, not to be defin'd :
He that pretends to most, too, has least share in't.
'Tis a ragged virtue : Honesty ! no more on't.
Jaf. Sure thou art honest !
Pier. So, indeed, men think me ;
But they're mistaken, Jaffier : I'm a rogue
As well as they ;
A fine, gay, bold -fac'd villain as thou seest me.
'Tis true, I pay my debts, when they're contracted ;
I steal from no man ; would not cut a throat
To gain admission to a great man's purse,
Or a whore's bed ; I'd not betray my friend
To get his place or fortune ; I scorn to flatter
A blown-up fool above me, or crush the wretch be
neath me ;
Yet, Jaffier, for all this I'm a villain.
Jaf. A villain !
Pier. Yes, a most notorious villain ;
To see the sufferings of my fellow creatures,
And own myself a man : to see our senators
Cheat the deluded people with a show
Ofliberty, which yet they ne'er must taste of.
They say, by them our hands are free from fetters ;
Yet whom they please they lay in basest bonds ;
Bring whom they please to infamy and sorrow ;
Drive us, like wrecks, down the rough tide of power,
Whilst no hold's left to save us from destruction .
All that bear this are villains, and I one,
B3
6 VENICE PRESERVED.
Not to rouse up at the great call of nature,
And check the growth of these domestic spoilers,
That make us slaves, and tell us, ' tis our charter.
(Crosses to R.H.)
Jaf. I think no safety can be here for virtue,
And grieve, my friend, as much as thou, to live
In such a wretched state as this of Venice,
Where all agree to spoil the public good ;
And villains fatten with the brave man's labours.
Pier. We've neither safety, unity, nor peace ;
For the foundation's lost of common good ;
Justice is lame, as well as blind, amongst us ;
The laws (corrupted to their ends that make ' em)
Serve but for instruments of some new tyranny,
That ev'ry day starts up, t'enslave us deeper.
Now could this glorious cause but find out friends,
To do it right, oh, Jaffer ! then might'st thou
Not wear these seals of woe upon thy face ;
The proud Priuli should be taught humanity,
And learn to valué such a son as thou art.
I dare not speak, but my heart bleeds this moment .
Jaf. Curs'd be the cause, though I thy friend be part
on't :
Let me partake the troubles of thy bosom,
For I am us'd to misery, and perhaps
May find a way to sweeten't to thy spirit .
Pier. Too soon ' twill reach thy knowledge
Jaf. Then from thee
Let it proceed. There's virtue in thy friendship ,
Would make the saddest tale of sorrow pleasing,
Strengthen my constancy and welcome ruin .
Pier. Then thou art ruined !
Jaf. That I long since knew ;
I and ill fortune have been long acquainted.
Pier. I pass'd this very moment by thy doors,
And found them guarded by a troop of villains
The sons of public rapine were destroying.
They told me, by the sentence of the law,
They had commission to seize all thy fortuné :
Nay more, Priuli's cruel hand had signed it .
 VENICE PRESERVED. 7
Here stood a ruffian with a horrid face,
Lording it o'er a pile of massy plate,
Tumbled into a heap for public sale ;
There was another, making villainous jests
At thy undoing : he had ta'en possession
Of all thy ancient, most domestic ornaments,
Rich hangings intermix'd and wrought with gold ;
The very bed, which on thy wedding night
Receiv'd thee to the arms of Belvidera,
· The scene of all thy joys, was violated
By the coarse hands of filthy dungeon villains,
And thrown amongst the common lumber.
Jaf. Now thank heaven
Pier. Thank heaven ! for what ?
Jaf. That I'm not worth a ducat.
Pier. Curse thy dull stars, and the worse fate of
Venice ,
Where brothers, friends , and fathers, all are false ;
Where there's no truth, no trust ; where innocence
Stoops under vile oppression, and vice lords it.
Hadst thou but seen, as I did, how, at last,
Thy beauteous Belvidera, like a wretch
That's doom'd to banishment, came weeping forth,
Shining through tears, like April suns in showers,
That labour to o'ercome the cloud that loads 'em ;
Whilst two young virgins, on whose arms she lean'd,
Kindly look'd up, and at her grief grew sad,
As if they catch'd the sorrows that fell from her.
Ev'n the lewd rabble, that were gather'd round
To see the sight, stood mute when they beheld her ;
Govern'd their roaring throats, and grumbled pity.
I could have hugg'd the greasy rogues : they pleas'd
me. (Crosses to L.H. )
Jaf. I thank thee for this story, from my soul ;
Since now I know the worst that can befal me.
Ah, Pierre ! I have a heart that could have borne
The roughest wrong my fortune could have done me ;
But when I think what Belvidera feels ,
The bitterness her tender spirit tastes of,
I own myself a coward : bear my weakness :
B 4
8 VENICE PRESERVED .
If throwing thus my arms about thy neck,
I play the boy, and blubber in thy bosom.
Oh ! I shall drown thee with my sorrows.
Pier. Eurn ,
First, burn and level Venice to thy ruin .
What ! starve, like beggars' brats, in frosty weather,
Under a hedge, and whine ourselves to death !
Thou or thy cause shall never want assistance,
Whilst I have blood or fortune fit to serve thee :
Command my heart, thou'rt every way its master.
Jaf. No, there's a secret pride in bravely dying.
Pier, Rats die in holes and corners, dogs run mad ;
Man knows a braver remedy for sorrow :
Revenge, the attribute of gods ; they stamp'd it,
With their great image, on our natures. Die !
Consider well the cause , that calls upon thee :
And, if thou'rt base enough, die then. Remember,
Thy Belvidera suffers ; Belvidera !
Die-damn first-What ! be decently interr'd
In a church-yard, and mingle thy brave dust
With stinking rogues, that rot in winding- sheets,
Surfeit- slain fools, the common dung o'th' soil !
Jaf. Oh!
Pier. Well said, out with't, swear a little
Jaf. Swear ! By sea and air ; by earth, by heav'n ,
and hell,
I will revenge my Belvidera's tears.
Hark thee, my friend- Priuli- is- a senator.
Pier. A dog .
Jaf. Agreed.
Pier. Shoot him.
Jaf. With all my heart.
No more ; where shall we meet at night ?
Pier. I'll tell thee ;
On the Rialto, every night at twelve ,
I take my evening's walk of meditation ;
There we two will meet, and talk of precious
Mischief
Jaf. Farewell .
Pier. At twelve.
 VENICE PRESERVED . 9
Jaf. At any hour ; my plagues
Will keep me waking. [Exit Pierre, R.h.
Tell me why, good heaven,
Thou mad'st me, what I am, with all the spirit,
Aspiring thoughts, and elegant desires,
That fill the happiest man ? Ah , rather, why
Didst thou not form me sordid as my fate,
Base-minded, dull, and fit to carry burthens ?
Why have I sense to know the curse that's on me ?
Is this just dealing, nature ?-Belvidera !
Poor Belvidera !

Enter BELVIDERA, L.H.

Bel. Lead me, lead me, my virgins,

To that kind voice. My lord, my love, my refuge !
Happy my eyes, when they behold thy face !
My heavy heart will leave its doleful beating
At sight of thee, and bound with sprightly joys.
Oh smile ! as when our loves were in their spring,
And cheer my fainting soul.
Jaf. As when our loves
Were in their spring ! Has then our fortune chang'd ?
Art thou not Belvidera , still the same,
Kind, good, and tender, as my arms first found thee?
If thou art alter'd , where shall I have harbour ?
Where ease my loaded heart ? Oh ! where complain ?
Bel. Does this appear like change, or love decaying,
When thus I throw myself into thy bosom,
With all the resolution of strong truth !
Beats not my heart, as ' twould alarum thine
To a new charge of bliss ? —I joy more in thee,
Than did thy mother, when she hugg'd thee first,
And bless'd the gods for all her travail past.
Jaf. Can there in woman be such glorious faith ?
Sure all ill stories of thy sex are false !
Oh woman ! lovely woman ! nature made thee
To temper man : we had been brutes without you !
Angels are painted fair, to look like you ;
B5
10 VENICE PRESERVED .
There's in you all that we believe of heaven ;
Amazing brightness, purity, and truth,
Eternal joy, and everlasting love.
Bel. If love be treasure, we'll be wond'rous rich ;
I have so much, my heart will surely break with't :
Vows can't express it. When I would declare
How great's my joy, I'm dumb with the big thought ;
I swell, and sigh, and labour with my longing.
O ! lead me to some desert wide and wild,
Barren as our misfortunes, where my soul
May have its vent, where I may tell aloud
To the high heavens, and ev'ry list'ning planet,
With what a boundless stock my bosom's fraught ;
Where I may throw my eager arms about thee,
Give loose to love, with kisses kindling joy,
And let off all the fire that's in my heart.
Jaf. Oh, Belvidera ! doubly I'm a beggar :
Undone by fortune, and in debt to thee.
Want, worldly want, that hungry, meagre fiend ,
Is at my heels, and chases me in view.
Canst thou bear cold and hunger ? Can these limbs,
Fram'd for the tender offices of love,
Endure the bitter gripes of smarting poverty ?
When banish'd by our miseries abroad
(As suddenly we shall be ) to seek out
In some far climate, where our names are strangers,
For charitable succour ; wilt thou then,
When in a bed of straw we shrink together,
And the bleak winds shall whistle round our heads ;
Wilt thou then talk thus to me ? Wilt thou then
Hush my cares thus, and shelter me with love ?
Bel. Oh ! I will love thee, even in madness love
thee :
Though my distracted senses should forsake me,
I'd find some intervals, when my poor heart
Should ' swage itself, and be let loose to thiné.
Though the bare earth be all our resting-place,
Its roots our food, some clift our habitation,
I'll make this arm a pillow for thine head ;
 VENICE PRESERVED. 11
And, as thou sighing liest, and swell'd with sorrow,
Creep to thy bosom, pour the balm of love
Into thy soul, and kiss thee to thy rest :
Then praise our God, and watch thee till the morning.
Jaf. Hear this, you heavens ! and wonder how you
made her :
Reign, reign, ye monarchs that divide the world ;
Busy rebellion ne'er will let you know
Tranquillity and happiness like mine !
Like gaudy ships th ' obsequious billows fall,
And rise again to lift you in your pride ;
They wait but for a storm, and then devour you ;
(Crosses to L, H.)
I, in my private bark already wreck'd,
Like a poor merchant driven to unknown land,
That had by chance pack'd up his choicest treasure
In one dear casket, and sav'd only that ;
Since I must wander further on the shore,
Thus hug my little, but my precious store,
Resolv❜d to scorn, and trust my fate no more.
[Exeunt, L.H.

END OF ACT I.

ACT II.

SCENE L.- The Rialto.

Enter JAFFIEr, l.h.

Jaf. I'm here ; and thus, the shades of night around

me,
I look as if all hell were in my heart,
And I in hell . Nay surely ' tis so with me !
For every step I tread, methinks some fiend
Knocks at my breast, and bids me not be quiet.
I've heard how desperate wretches, like myself,
Have wander'd out at this dead time of night,
B6
12 VENICE PRESERVED .
To meet the foe of mankind in his walk.
Sure I'm so curs'd, that, though of heaven forsaken,
No minister of darkness cares to tempt me.
Hell, hell ! why sleep'st thou ?

Enter PIERRE, R.H.U.E.

Pier. Sure I've staid too long :

The clock has struck, and I may lose my proselyte .
Speak, who goes there ?
Jaf. A dog, that comes to howl
At yonder moon . What's he that asks the question ?
Pier. A friend to dogs, for they are honest creatures,
And ne'er betray their masters : never fawn
On any that they love not . Well met, friend ;
Jaffier !
Jaf. The same.
Pier. Where's Belvidera ?
Jaf. For a day or two
I've lodg'd her privately, till I see further
What fortune will do for me. Pr'ythee, friend,
If thou would'st have me fit to hear good counsel,
Speak not of Belvidera
Pier. Not of her !
Jaf. Oh, no !
Pier. Not name her ! May be I wish her well.
Jaf. Whom well?
Pier. Thy wife ? thy lovely Belvidera.
I hope a man may wish his friend's wife well,
And no harm done ?
Jaf. You're merry, Pierre.
Pier. I am so :
Thou shalt smile too, and Belvidera smile :
We'll all rejoice . Here's something to buy pins ;
Marriage is chargeable. (Gives him a Purse.)
Jaf. I but half wish'd
To see the devil, and he's here already. Well !
What must this buy ? Rebellion , murder, treason ?
Tell me, which way I must be damn'd for this.
 VENICE PRESERVED . 13

Pier. When last we parted, we'd no qualms like

these.
But entertain'd each others thoughts like men
Whose souls were well acquainted. Is the world
Reform'd since our last meeting ? What new miracles
Have happen'd ? Has Priuli's heart relented ?
Can he be honest.
Jaf. Kind heav'n, let heavy curses
Gall his old age ; cramps, aches, rack his bones,
And bitterest disquiet ring his heart. wring
Oh ! let him live, till life becomes his burden :
Let him groan under't long, linger an age
In the worst agonies and pangs of death,
And find its cause but late.
Pier. Nay, could'st thou not
As well, my friend, have stretch'd the curse to all
The senate round, as to one single villain ?
Jaf. But curses stick not : could I kill with cursing,
By heaven I know not thirty heads in Venice
Should not be blasted. Senators should rot
Like dogs on dunghills . Oh ! for a curse
To kill with ! (Crosses to R.H.)
Pier. Daggers, daggers are much better.
Jaf. Ha !
Pier. Daggers.
Jaf. But where are they ?
Pier. Oh a thousand
May be disposed of, in honest hands, in Venice.
Jaf. Thou talk'st in clouds.
Pier. But yet , a heart, half wrong'd
As thine has been, would find the meaning, Jaffier.
Jaf. A thousand daggers, all in honest hands !
And have not I a friend will stick one here !
Pier. Yes, if I thought thou wert not cherish'd
T'a nobler purpose, I would be thy friend ;
But thou hast better friends ; friends whom thy wrongs
Have made thy friends ; friends worthy to be call'd
SO.
I'll trust thee with a secret : There are spirits
This hour at work.- But as thou art a man,
14 VENICE PRESERVED .
Whom I have pick'd and chosen from the world,
Swear that thou wilt be true to what I utter ;
And when I've told thee that which only gods,
And men like gods, are privy to, then swear
No chance or change shall wrest it from thy bosom.
Jaf. When thou wouldst bind me, is there need of
oaths ?
For thou'rt so near my heart, that thou may'st see
Its bottom, sound its strength and firmness to thee.
Is coward, fool, or villain in my face ?
If I seem none of these, I dare believe
Thou wouldst not use me in a little cause,
For I am fit for honour's toughest task,
Nor ever yet found fooling was my province ;
And for a villainous, inglorious enterprise,
I know thy heart so well, I dare lay mine
Before thee, set it to what point thou wilt.
Pier. Nay, ' tis a cause thou wilt be fond of, Jaffier ;
For it is founded on the noblest basis ;
Our liberties, our natural inheritance .
There's no religion, no hypocrisy in't:
We'll do the business, and ne'er fast and pray for't ;
Openly act a deed the world shall gaze
With wonder at, and envy when ' tis done.
Jaf. For liberty !
Pier. For liberty, my friend.
Thou shalt be free from base Priuli's tyranny,
And thy sequester'd fortunes healed again :
I shall be free from those opprobrious wrongs
That press me now, and bend my spirit downward ;
All Venice free, and every growing merit
Succeed to its just right : fools shall be pull'd
From wisdom's seat : those baleful unclean birds ,
Those lazy owls, who, perch'd near fortune's top,
Sit only watchful with their heavy wings
To cuff down new-fledg'd virtues, that would rise
To nobler heights, and make the grove harmonious.
(Crosses to R.H. )
Jaf. What can I do ?
Pier. Canst thou not kill a senator.
 VENICE PRESERVED. 15

Jaf. Were there one wise or honest, I could kill

him,
For herding with that nest of fools and knaves.
By all my wrongs, thou talk'st as if revenge
Were to be had ; and the brave story warms me.
Pier. Swear then !
Jaf. I do, by all those glittering stars,
And yon great ruling planet of the night ;
By all good pow'rs above, and ill below ;
By love and friendship, dearer than my life,
No pow'r or death shall make me false to thee.
Pier. Here we embrace, and I'll unlock my heart.
A council's held hard by, where the destruction
Of this great empire's hatching : there I'll lead thee.
But be a man ! for thou'rt to mix with men
Fit to disturb the peace of all the world,
And rule it when it's wildest
Jaf. I give thee thanks
For this kind warning. Yes , I'll be a man ;
And charge thee, Pierre, whene'er thou seest my fears
Betray me less, to rip this heart of mine
Out of my breast, and show it for a coward's.
Come, let's be gone, for from this hour I chase
All little thoughts, all tender human follies
Out of my bosom : Vengeance shall have room .
Revenge !
Pier. And liberty !
Jaf. Revenge- revenge [ Exeunt, R.H.

SCENE II.- Aquilina's House.

Enter RENAULT, R.H.

·
Ren. Why was my choice ambition ? the worst
ground
A wretch can build on ! It's, indeed, at distance,
A goodly prospect, tempting to the view ;
The height delights us, and the mountain top
Looks beautiful, because it's nigh to heav'n.
16 VENICE PRESERVED .
But we ne'er think how sandy's the foundation ,
What storm will batter, and what tempest shake us.
Who's there ?

Enter SPINOSA, L.H.

Spin. Renault, good morrow, for by this time

I think the scale of night has turn'd the balance,
And weighs up morning ! Has the clock struck twelve ?
Ren. Yes ! clocks will go as they are set ; but man,
Irregular man's ne'er constant, never certain :
I've spent at least three precious hours of darkness
In waiting dull attendance : 'tis the curse
Of diligent virtue to be mix'd, like mine,
With giddy tempers , souls but half resolv'd.
Spin. Hell seize that soul amongst us it can frighten .
Ren. What's then the cause that I am here alone ?
Why are not we together ?

Enter ELLIOT, L.H.

O, sir, welcome !
You are an Englishman ; when treason's hatching,
One might have thought you'd not have been behind
hand.
In what whore's lap have you been lolling ?
Give but an Englishman his whore and ease,
Beef, and a sea- coal fire, he's yours for ever.
Ell. Frenchman , you are saucy.
Ren. How ! (Puts his hand to his sword.)

Enter BEDAMAR, the Ambassador ; DURAND, Bram

VEIL, THEODORE, BRABE , REVILLIDO, MEZ
ZANO, TERNON, RETORSI , and Conspirators, L.H.
-
-Spinosa is endeavouring to pacify Elliot;
Bedamar goes behind Elliot and Spinosa.

Bed. At difference, fie !

Is this a time for quarrels ? Thieves and rogues
Fall out and brawl : should men of your high calling,
 VENICE PRESERVED . 17
Men separated by the choice of Providence
From the gross heap of mankind, and set here
In this assembly as in one great jewel,
T'adorn the bravest purpose it e'er smil'd on ;
Should you, like boys, wrangle for trifles ?
Ren. Boys !
Bed. Renault, thy hand.
Ren. I thought I'd given my heart
Long since to every man that mingles here ;
But grieve to find it trusted with such tempers,
That can't forgive my froward age its weakness.
Bed. Elliot, thou once hadst virtue . I have seen
Thy stubborn temper bent with godlike goodness,
Not half thus courted . "Tis thy nation's glory
To hug the foe that offers brave alliance.
(They advance in front of Bedamar, give their
hands, and return to their former situations.)
One more embrace, my friends - we'll all embrace.
United thus, we are the mighty engine
Must twist this rooted empire from its basis.
Totters not it already ?
• Ell. Would ' twere tumbling .
Bed. Nay, it shall down ; this night we seal its ruin.

Enter PIERRE, L.H.- All bow to him.

Oh, Pierre, thou art welcome. (Crosses to Pierre.)

Come to my breast, for by its hopes thou look'st
Lovelily dreadful, and the fate of Venice
Seems on thy sword already. Oh, my Mars !
The poets that first feign'd a god of war,
Sure prophesied of thee.
Pier. Friend, was not Brutus
(I mean that Brutus, who in open senate
Stabb'd the first Cæsar that usurp'd the world, )
A gallant man ?
Ren. Yes, and Catiline too ;
Though story wrong his fame : for he conspir'd
To prop the reeling glory of his country :
His cause was good .
18 VENICE PRESERVED .
Bed. And ours as much above it,
(Crosses to Renault.)
As, Renault, thou'rt superior to Cethegus,
Or Pierre to Cassius.
Pier. Then to what we aim at.
When do we start ? or must we talk for ever ?
Bed. No, Pierre, the deed's near birth ; fate seems
to have set
The business up, and given it to our care ;
I hope there's not a heart or hand amongst us,
But is firm and ready.
All . All.
We'll die with Bedamar.
Bed. O men,
Matchless ! as will your glory be hereafter :
The game is for a matchless prize, if won ;
If lost, disgraceful ruin .
Pier. Ten thousand men are armed at your nod,
Commanded all by leaders fit to guide
A battle for the freedom of the world :
This wretched state has starv'd them in its service ;
And, by your bounty quicken'd, they're resolved
To serve your glory, and revenge their own :
They've all their different quarters in this city,
Watch for th' alarm, and grumble ' tis so tardy.
Bed. I doubt not, friend, but thy unweary'd dili
gence
Has still kept waking, and it shall have ease ;
After this night it is resolv'd we meet
No more, till Venice owns us for her lords.
Pier. How lovelily the Adriatic whore,
Dress'd in her flames, will shine ! Devouring flames !
Such as shall burn her to the watery bottom,
And hiss in her foundation.
Bed. Now if any
Amongst us, that owns this glorious cause ,
Have friends or interest he'd wish to save,
Let it be told the general doom is seal'd ;
But I'd forego the hopes of a world's empire,
Rather than wound the bowels of my friend.
 VENICE PRESERVED. 19
Pier. I must confess, you there have touch'd my
weakness,
I have a friend ; hear it ! such a friend,
My heart was ne'er shut to him. Nay, I'll tell you :
He knows the very business of this hour ;
But he rejoices in the cause, and loves it ;
We've chang❜d a vow to live and die together,
And he's at hand to ratify it here.
(All start, and look at each other.)
Ren. How ! all betray'd !
Pier. No-I've nobly dealt with you ;
I've brought my all into the public stock ;
I've but one friend, and him I'll share amongst you :
Receive and cherish him ; or if, when seen
And search'd, you find him worthless : as my tongue
Has lodg'd this secret in his faithful breast,
To ease your fears, I wear a dagger here
Shall rip it out again, and give you rest.
Come forth, thou only good I e'er could boast.

Enter JAFFIER, with a Dagger, L.H.D.- All bow

to him.

Bed. His presence bears the show of manly virtue.

Jaf. I know you'll wonder all, that thus uncall'd,
I dare approach this place of fatal councils ;
But I'm amongst you, and by heav'n it glads me
To see so many virtues thus united
To restore justice, and dethrone oppression .
Command this sword, if you would have it quiet,
Into this breast ; but, if you think it worthy
(Renault, Elliot, and Spinosa, observe Jaffier
narrowly.)
To cut the throats of reverend rogues in robes,
Send me into the curs'd assembled senate :
It shrinks not, though I meet a father there .
Would you behold this city flaming ? here's
A hand that shall bear a lighted torch at noon
To th' arsenal, and set its gates on fire.
Ren. You talk this well, sir.
20 VENICE PRESERVED .
Jaf. Nay- by heav'n I'll do this.
Come, come, I read distrust in all your faces ;
You fear me villain, and, indeed , its odd
To hear a stranger talk thus, at first meeting,
Of matters that have been so well debated ;
But I come ripe with wrongs, as you with councils.
I hate this senate, am a foe to Venice ;
A friend to none, but men resolv'd like me
know me,
To push on mischief. Oh ! did you but
I need not talk thus !
Bed. Pierre, I must embrace him.
(Advances to Jaffier, embraces him, and returns
to his former situation.
My heart beats to this man, as if it knew him.
Ren. I never lov'd these huggers.
Jaf. Still I see
The cause delights ye not. Your friends survey me
As I were dangerous-But I come arm'd
Against all doubts, and to your trust will give
A pledge, worth more than all the world can pay for.
My Belvidera ! Ho ; my Belvidera !
Bed. What wonder's next ?
Juf. Let me entreat you,
As I have henceforth hopes to call you friends,
That all but the Ambassador, and this
Grave guide of councils, with my friend that owns me,
Withdraw awhile to spare a woman's blushes.
(Bedamar signs to them to retire.)
[Exeunt all but Bedamar, Renault, Jaffier, and
Pierre, R.H.
Bed. Pierre, whither will this ceremony lead us ?
Jaf. My Belvidera ! Belvidera !
Bel. (Within, L.H. ) Who,
Who calls so loud at this late peaceful hour ?
That voice was wont to come in gentle whispers,
And fill my ears with the soft breath of love.

Enter BELVIDERA , L.H.D.

Thou hourly image of my thoughts, where art thou ?

 VENICE PRESERVED. 21
Jaf. Indeed ' tis late .
Bel. Alas ! where am I ? whither is't you lead me ?
Methinks I read distraction in your face,
Something less gentle than the fate you tell me.
You shake and tremble too ! your blood runs cold !
Heav'ns guard my love, and bless his heart with pa
tience.
Jaf. That I have patience, let our fate bear witness ,
Who has ordain'd it so, that thou and I
(Thou, the divinest good man e'er possess'd,
And I, the wretched'st of the race of man)
This very hour, without one tear, must part.
Bel. Part ! must we part ? Oh , am I then forsaken ?
Why drag you from me ? (Jaffier crosses to Pierre.)
Whither are you going ?
My dear ! my life ! my love !
(Following him, and falling on her knees.)
Jaf. Oh, friends !
Bel. Speak to me.
Jaf. Take her from my heart,
She'll gain such hold else, I shall ne'er get loose.
I charge thee take her, but with tender'st care
Relieve her troubles, and assuage her sorrows.
Ren. Rise, madam, and command amongst your
servants.
(Ren. at her R.H. and Bed. L.H. raise her up. )
Jaf. To you, sirs, and your honours, I bequeath
her ;
And with her this, whene'er I prove unworthy
(Gives a dagger to Renault. )
You know the rest-Then strike it to her heart ;
And tell her, he who three whole happy years
Lay in her arms, and each kind night repeated
The passionate vows of still increasing love,
Sent that reward for all her truth and sufferings.
Bel. Nay, take my life, since he has sold it cheaply.
Oh ! thou unkind one ;
Never meet more ! have I deserv'd this from you ?
Look on me, tell me, speak, thou fair deceiver
22 VENICE PRESERVED .
Why am I separated from thy love ?
If I am false, accuse me ; but if true,
Don't, pr'ythee don't, in poverty forsake me :
But pity the sad heart that's torn with parting.
Yet hear me, yet recall me—
[ Exeunt Renault, Bedamar, and Belvidera, L.A.
Jaf. Oh ! my eyes,
Look not that way, but turn yourselves awhile
Into my heart, and be wean'd altogether.
My friend, where art thou?
Pier. Here, my honour's brother.
Jaf. Is Belvidera gone ?
Pier. Renault has led her
Back to her own apartment ; but, by heav'n,
Thou must not see her more, till our work's over.
Jaf. No !
Pier. Not for your life.
Jaf. Oh, Pierre ! wert thou but she,
How I would pull thee down into my heart,
Gaze on thee, till my eye- strings crack'd with love ;
Then, swelling, sighing, raging to be blest,
Come like a panting turtle to thy breast ;
On thy soft bosom hovering, bill and play,
Confess the cause why last I fled away ;
Own ' twas a fault, but swear to give it o'er,
And never follow false ambition more. [Exeunt, R.H.

END OF ACT II.

ACT III.

SCENE I.- A Chamber.

Enter BELVIDERA , L.H.

Bel. I'm sacrific'd ! I'm sold ! betray'd to shame !

Inevitable ruin has enclos'd me !
 VENICE PRESERVED . 23

He that should guard my virtue has betray'd it ;

Left me undone me ! Oh, that I could hate him !
Where shall I go ? Oh, whither, whither, wander ?

Enter JAFFIER, R.H.

Jaf. Can Belvidera want a resting- place,

When these poor arms are ready to receive her ?
There was a time
Bel. Yes, yes, there was a time,
When Belvidera's tears, her cries, and sorrows,
Were not despis'd ; when, if she chanc'd to sigh,
Or look'd but sad-there was indeed a time,
When Jaffier would have ta'en her in his arms,
Eas'd her declining head upon his breast,
And never left her till he found the cause.
Jaf. Oh, Portia, Portia ! What a soul was thine !
Bel. That Portia was a woman ; and when Brutus,
Big with the fate of Rome, (heav'n guard thy safety !)
Conceal'd from her the labours of his mind ;
She let him see her blood was great as his,
Flow'd from a spring as noble, and a heart
Fit to partake his troubles as his love.
Fetch, fetch that dagger back, the dreadful dower,
Thou gav'st last night in parting with me ; strike it
Here to my heart ; aud as the blood flows from it
Judge if it run not pure, as Cato's daughter's.
(Crosses to R.H.)
Jaf. Oh! Belvidera !
Bel. Why was I last night deliver'd to a villain ?
Jaf. Ha! a villain ?
Bel. Yes, to a villain ! Why at such an hour
Meets that assembly, all made up of wretches ?
Why, I in this hand, and in that a dagger,
Was I deliver'd with such dreadful ceremonies ?
" To you, sirs, and to your honours, I bequeath her,
And with her this : Whene'er I prove unworthy
99
You know the rest-then strike it to her heart.'
Oh ! why's that rest conceal'd from me ? Must I
Be made the hostage of a hellish trust ?
24 VENICE PRESERVED .
For such I know I am ; that's all my value:
But, by the love and loyalty I owe thee,
I'll free thee from the bondage of the slaves ;
Straight to the senate, tell ' em all I know,
All that I think, all that my fears inform me.
Jaf. Is this the Roman virtue ; this the blood
That boasts its purity with Cato's daughter ?
Would she have e'er betray'd her Brutus ?
Bel. No :
For Brutus trusted her. Wert thou so kind,
What would not Belvidera suffer for thee ?
Jaf. I shall undo myself, and tell thee all .
Yet think a little, ere thou tempt me further ;
Think I've a tale to tell will shake thy nature,
Melt all this boasted constancy thou talk'st of,
Into vile tears and despicable sorrows :
Then ifthou should'st betray me !
Bel. Shall swear !
Jaf. No, do not swear : I would not violate
Thy tender nature with so rude a bond :
But as thou hop'st to see me live my days,
And love thee long, lock this within thy breast :
I've bound myself, by all the strictest sacraments,
Divine and human
Bel. Speak !
Jaf. To kill thy father
Bel. My father !
Jaf. Nay, the throats of the whole senate
Shall bleed, my Belvidera. He, amongst us,
That spares his father, brother, or his friend,
Is damn'd .
Bel. Oh !
Jaf. Have a care, and shrink not even in thought :
For, ifthou dost
Bel. I know it ; thou wilt kill me .
Do, strike thy sword into this bosom : lay me
Dead on the earth, and then thou wilt be safe.
Murder my father! though his cruel nature
Has persecuted me to my undoing ;
Driven me to basest wants ; can I behold him ,
 VENICE PRESERVED. 25

With smiles of vengeance, butcher'd in his age ?

The sacred fountain of my life destroy'd ?
And canst thou shed the blood that gave me being ?
Nay, be a traitor too, and sell thy country ?
Can thy great heart descend so vilely low,
* Mix with hir'd slaves, bravoes , and common stabbers ?
Join with such a crew, and take a ruffian's wages,
To cut the throats of wretches as they sleep ?
Jaf. Thou wrong'st me, Belvidera ! I've engaged
With men of souls ; fit to reform the ills
Of all mankind : there's not a heart amongst them
But's stout as death, yet honest as the nature
Of man first made, ere fraud and vice were fashion.
Bel. What's he, to whose curst hands last night thou
gav'st me ?
Was that well done ? Oh ! I could tell a story,
Would rouse thy lion heart out of its den,
And make it rage with terrifying fury.
Jaf. Speak on, I charge thee.
Bel. O, my love ! If e'er
Thy Belvidera's peace deserv'd thy care,
Remove me from this place. Last night, last night !
Jaf. Distract me not, but give me all the truth.
Bel. No sooner wert thou gone, and I alone,
Left in the power of that old son of mischief;
No sooner was I laid on my sad bed ,
But that vile wretch approach'd me ! Then my heart
Throbb'd with its fears : Oh, how I wept and sigh'd !
And shrunk and trembled ! wish'd in vain for him
That should protect me ! Thou, alas ! wer't gone.
Jaf. Patience, sweet heav'n, 'till I make vengeance
sure.
Bel. He drew the hideous dagger forth, thou gav'st
him,
And with upbraiding smiles, he said, Rehold it ;
This is the pledge of a false husband's love :
And in my arms then press'd, and would have clasp'd
me :
But with my cries, I scar'd his coward heart,
Till he withdrew, and mutter'd vows to hell.
с
26 VENICE PRESERVED .
These are thy friends ! with these thy life, thy honour,
Thy love, all stak'd, and all will go to ruin.
Jaf. No more : I charge thee keep this secret close.
Clear up thy sorrows ; look as if thy wrongs
Were all forgot, and treat him like a friend ,
As no complaint were made. No more ; retire,
Retire, my life, (Bel. crosses to L.H. ) and doubt not of
my honour ;
I'll heal its failings, and deserve thy love.
Bel. Oh ! should I part with thee, I fear thou wilt,
In anger leave me, and return no more.
Jaf. Return no more ! I would not live without thee
Another night, to purchase the creation.
Bel. When shall we meet again ?
Jaf. Anon, at twelve ,
I'll steal myself to thy expecting arms,
Come like a travell'd dove, and bring thee peace.
Bel. Indeed !
Jaf. By all our loves.
Bel. "Tis hard to part :
But sure no falsehood ever look'd so fairly.
Farewell ; remember twelve. [Exit, L.H.D.
Jaf. Let heav'n forget me,
When I remember not thy truth, thy love.

Enter PIERRE, R.H.

Pier. Jaffier.
Jaf. Who calls ?
Pier. A friend, that could have wish'd
T' have found thee otherwise employed. What, hunt
A wife, on the dull soil ! Sure a staunch husband
Of all hounds is the dullest. Wilt thou never,
Never be wean'd from caudles and confections ?
What feminine tales hast thou been list'ning to,
Of unair'd shirts, catarrhs, and tooth-ache, gót
By thin- sol'd shoes ? Damnation ! that a fellow,
Chosen to be a sharer in the destruction
Of a whole people, should sneak thus into corners
To ease his fulsome lusts, and fool his mind.
 VENICE PRESERVED . 27
Jaf. May not a man then trifle out an hour
With a kind woman , and not wrong his calling ?
Pier. Not in a cause like ours.
Jaf. Then, friend, our cause
Is in a damn'd condition : for I'll tell thee,
That canker-worm , called lechery, has touch'd it ;
'Tis tainted vilely . Wouldst thou think it ? Renault,
(That mortified, old, wither'd , winter rogue)
He visited her last night, like a kind guardian :
Faith ! she has some temptation , that's the truth on't.
Pier. He durst not wrong his trust.
Jaf. 'Twas something late, though,
To take the freedom of a lady's chamber.
Pier. Was she in bed?
Jaf. Yes, faith, in virgin sheets,
White as her bosom, Pierre, dish'd neatly up,
Might tempt a weaker appetite to taste.
Oh! how the old fox stunk, I warrant thee,
When the rank fit was upon him !
Pier. Patience guide me !
He us'd no violence ?
1 Jaf. No, no ; out on't, violence !
Play'd with her neck ; brush'd her with his grey beard ;
But not a jot of violence .
Pier. Damn him .
Jaf. Ay, so say I : but hush, no more on't.
All hitherto is well, and I believe
Myself no monster yet. Sure it is near the hour
We all should meet for our concluding orders :
Will the ambassador be here in person ?
Pier. No, he has sent commission to that villain,
Renault,
To give the executing charge :
I'd have thee be a man, if possible,
And keep thy temper ; for a brave revenge
Ne'er comes too late.
Jaf. Fear not, I am cool as patience .
Pier. He's yonder, coming this way through the
hall ;
His thoughts seem full.
C2
28 VENICE PRESERVED .
Jaf. Pr'ythee retire, and leave me
With him alone : I'll put him to some trial :
See how his rotten part will bear the touching.
Pier. Be careful, then. [Exit, R.H.
Jaf. Nay, never doubt, but trust me.
What ! be a devil, take a damning oath
For shedding native blood ! Can there be a sin
In merciful repentance ? Oh, this villain !
(Retires up the stage.)

Enter RENAUlt, l.h.

Ren. Perverse and peevish ! What a slave is man

To let his rebel passions master him !
Despatch the tool her husband- that were well.
Who's there ? (Jaf. advances, R.H.)
Jaf. A man.
Ren. My friend, my near ally,
The hostage of your faith, my beauteous charge, is very
well.
Jaf. Sir, are you sure of that ?
Stands she in perfect health ? Beats her pulse even ?
Neither too hot nor cold?
Ren. What means that question ?
Jaf. Oh ! women have fantastic constitutions,
Inconstant in their wishes, always wavering,
And never fix'd. Was it not boldly done,
Even at first sight, to trust the thing I lov'd
(A tempting treasure too) with youth so fierce
And vigorous as thine ? but thou art honest.
Ren. Who dares accuse me ?
Jaf. Curs'd be he that doubts
Thy virtue ! I have tried it, and declare,
Were I to choose a guardian of my honour,
I'd put it in thy keeping : for I know thee.
Ren. Know me !
Jaf. Ay, know thee. There's no falsehood in thee :
Thou look'st just as thou art. Let us embrace.
Now wouldst thou cut my throat, or I cut thine ?
Ren. You dare not do't.
 VENICE PRESERVED. 29
Jaf. You lie, sir. (Anoise Without.)
Ren. How!
Jaf. No more,
"Tis a base world, and must reform , that's all .

Enter SPINOSA, ELLIOT, THEODORE, Durand

DURAND,,
REVILLIDO, BRAMVEIL, and the rest of the Con
spirators, R.H.

Ren. Spinosa ! Theodore !

Spin. The same.
Ren. You are welcome.
Spin. You are trembling, sir.
Ren. 'Tis a cold night, indeed, and I am aged ;
Full of decay and natural infirmities : (They retire . )

Re-enter PIERRE, R.H.

We shall be warm, my friends, I hope, to-morrow.

Pier. 'Twas not well done ; thou shouldst have`
stroak'd him ,
And not have gall'd him.
Jaf. Damn him, let him chew on't.
(Crosses to L.H.)
Heav'n ! where am I ? beset with cursed fiends,
That wait to damn me ! What a devil's man,
When he forgets his nature ! ( Conspirators advance L.H.)
-hush, my heart.
Ren. My friends, ' tis late ; are we assembled all ?
To-morrow's rising sun must see you all
Deck'd in your honours. Are the soldiers ready ?
Pier. All, all .
Ren. You, Durand, with your thousand, must pos
sess
St. Mark's ; you, captain , know your charge already ;
"Tis to secure the ducal palace :
Be all this done with the least tumult possible,
"Till in each place you post sufficient guards :
Then sheathe your swords in every breast you meet.
Jaf. Oh ! reverend cruelty ! damn'd bloody villain !
c3 (Aside .)
 30 VENICE PRESERVED .
Ren. During this execution , Durand, you
Must in the midst keep your battalia fast ;
And Theodore, be sure to plant the cannon
That may command the streets ;
This done, we'll give the general alarm,
Apply petards, and force the ars❜nal gates ;
Then fire the city round in several places,
Or with our cannon (if he dare resist)
Batter to ruin. But above all, I charge you,
Shed blood enough ; spare neither sex nor age,
Name nor condition : if there live a senator
After to-morrow, though the dullest rogue
That e'er said nothing, we have lost our ends.
If possible, let's kill the very name
Of senator, and bury it in blood.
Jaf. Merciless, horrid slave- Ay, blood enough !
Shed blood enough, old Renault ! how thou charm'st
me ! (Aside.)
Ren. But one thing more, and then farewell, till
fate
Join us again, or sep'rate us for ever.
Let's all remember,
We wear no common cause upon our swords :
Let each man think that on his single virtue
Depends the good and fame of all the rest ;
Eternal honour or perpetual infamy.
(Advancingfrom the circle.)
You droop, sir. (To Jaffier.)
Jaf. No; with most profound attention
I've heard it all , and wonder at thy virtue.
Oh, Belvidera ! take me to thy arms,
And show me where's my peace, for I have lost it.
(Aside.) [Exit, L.H.D.
Ren. Without the least remorse then , let's resolve
With fire and sword t' exterminate these tyrants :
Under whose weight this wretched country labours,
The means are only in our hands to crown them.
Pier. And may those pow'rs above that are pro
pitious
To gallant minds, record this cause and bless it.
 VENICE PRESERVED . 31

Ren. Thus happy, thus secure of all we wish for,

Should there, my friends, be found among us one
False to this glorious enterprise, what fate,
What vengeance were enough for such a villain ?
Ell. Death here without repentance , hell hereafter .
Ren. Let that be my lot, if, as here I stand ,
Listed by fate among her darling sons,
Though I had one only brother, dear by all
The strictest ties of nature ; could I have such a friend
Join'd in this cause, and had but ground to fear
He meant foul play ; may this right hand drop from
me,
If I'd not hazard all my future peace,
And stab him to the heart before you . Who,
Who would do less ? Wouldst thou not, Pierre the
same ?
Pier You've singled me, sir, out for this hard ques
tion,
As if ' twere started only for my sake !
Am I the thing you fear ? Here, here's my bosom,
Search it with all your swords . Am I a traitor ?
Ren. No : but I fear your late commended friend
Is little less . Come, sirs, ' tis now no time
To trifle with our safety. Where's this Jaffier ?
Spin. He left the room just now, in strange dis
order.
Ren. Nay, there is danger in him : I observ'd him ;
During the time I took for explanation ,
He was transported from most deep attention
To a confusion which he could not smother ;
His looks grew full of sadness and surprise,
All which betray'd a wavering spirit in him,
That labour'd with reluctancy and sorrow.
What's requisite for safety must be done
With speedy execution : he remains
Yet in our power : I, for my own part, wear
A dagger (Taking out the dagger Jaf. gave him .)
Pier. Well ?
Ren. And I could wish it
Pier. Where ?
C4
32 VENICE PRESERVED.
Ren. Buried in his heart.
Pier. Away ; (Takes the dagger from him, and
puts it in his pocket, and crosses to L.H.)
we're yet all friends ;
No more of this, ' twill breed ill blood among us.
Spin. Let us all draw our swords, and search the
house,
Pull him from the dark hole where he sits brooding
O'er his cold fears, and each man kill his share of
him .
Pier. Who talks of killing ? (Crosses to Spin. who
is R.H. then turns to Ell. then to Theo, then
to Ren.) Who's he'll shed the blood
That's dear to me ? Is't you, or you, or you, sir ?
What, not one speak ! how you stand gaping all
On your grave oracle, your wooden god there !
Yet not a word ! Then , sir, I'll tell you a secret :
Suspicion's but at best a coward's virtue. (ToRenault.)
Ren. A coward ! (Handles his sword.)
Pier. Put up thy sword, old man ;
Thy hand shakes at it. Come, let's heal this breach ;
(Crosses to L.H. )
I am too hot, we yet may all live friends.
Spin. Till we are safe, our friendship cannot be so.
Pier. Again ! Who's that ?
Spin. 'Twas I.
Theo. And I.
Ren. And I.
Omnes. And all .
Ren. Who are on my side ?
Spin. Every honest sword.
Let's die like men, and not be sold like slaves.
Pier. One such word more, by heav'n, I'll to the
senate,
And hang ye all, like dogs, in clusters.
(They half draw their swords.)
Why peep your coward swords half out their shells?
Why do you not all brandish them like mine ?
You fear to die, and yet dare talk of killing.
Ren. Go to the senate and betray us ! haste !
 VENICE PRESERVED . 33

Secure thy wretched life ; we fear to die

Less than thou dar'st be honest. (Going, R.H.)
Pier. That's rank falsehood.
(Crosses to Renault, and seizes his left arm.)
Fear'st thou not death ! Fie there's a knavish itch
In that salt blood, an utter foe to smarting.
Had Jaffier's wife prov'd kind, he'd still been true.
Faugh, how that stinks ! thou die, thou kill my friend !
Or thou ! or thou ! with that lean wither'd face.
Away! (Crosses to L.H.) disperse all to your several
charges,
And meet to-morrow where your honour calls you.
I'll bring that man whose blood you so much thirst for,
And you shall see him venture for you fairly—
Hence ! hence, I say ! [ Exit Renault angrily, R.H.
Spin. I fear we've been to blame,
And done too much .
Theo. 'Twas too far urg'd against the man you
lov'd.
Rev. Here, take our swords and crush them with
your feet.
Spin. Forgive us, gallant friend .
Pier. Nay, now you've found
The way to melt and cast me as you will.
Whence arose all this discord ?
Oh, what a dangerous precipice have we ' scap'd !
How near a fall was all we'd long been building !
What an eternal blot had stain'd our glories,
If one, the bravest and the best of men,
Had fall'n a sacrifice to rash suspicion,
Butcher'd by those whose cause he came to cherish !
Come but to- morrow , all your doubts shall end,
And to your loves me better recommend,
That I've preserv'd your fame, and sav'd my friend.
[Exeunt ; Pierre, L.H. the rest, R.H.

END OF ACT III.

c5
34 VENICE PRESERVED .

ACT IV.

- SCENE I.- The Rialto.

Enter JAFFIER and BELVIDERA , L.H.

Jaf. Where dost thou lead me ? Every step I move,

Methinks I tread upon some mangled limb
Of a rack'd friend. Oh, my charming ruin !
Where are we wandering ?
Bel. To eternal honour.
To do a deed shall chronicle thy name
Among the glorious legends of those few
That have sav'd sinking nations. Thy renown
Shall be the future song of all the virgins,
Who by thy piety have been preserv'd
From horrid violation . Every street
Shall be adorn'd with statues to thy honour ;
And at thy feet this great inscription written,
" Remember him that propp'd the fall of Venice."
Jaf. Rather, remember him, who, after all
The sacred bonds of oaths, and holier friendship,
In fond compassion to a woman's tears,
Forgot his manhood, virtue, truth, and honour,
To sacrifice the bosom that reliev'd him.
Why wilt thou damn me ?
Bel. Oh, inconstant man !
How will you promise ; how will you deceive !
Do, return back, replace me in my bondage,
Tell all thy friends how dangerously thou lov'st me,
And let thy dagger do its bloody office.
Or if thou think'st it nobler, let me live,
"Till I'm a victim to the hateful lust
Of that infernal devil.
Last night, my love !
Jaf. Name, name it not again :
It shows a beastly image to my fancy,
Will wake me into madness .
 VENICE PRESERVED . 35

Destruction, swift destruction,

Fall on my coward head if I forgive him !
Bel. Delay no longer, then, but to the senate,
And tell the dismal'st story ever utter'd :
Tell ' em what bloodshed, rapines, desolations,
Have been prepar'd : how near's the fatal hour.
Save thy poor country, save the reverend blood
Of all its nobles, which to-morrow's dawn
Must else see shed.
Jaf. Oh ! think what then may prove my lot :
By all heav'n's powers , prophetic truth dwells in thee ;
For every word thou speak'st strikes through my
heart ;
Just what thou'st made me, take me, Belvidera,
And lead me to the place where I'm to say
This bitter lesson ; where I must betray
My truth, my virtue, constancy, and friends.
Must I betray my friend ? Ah ! take me quickly ;
Secure me well before that thought's renew'd ;
If I relapse once more , all's lost for ever.
Bel. Hast thou a friend more dear than Belvidera ?
Jaf. No : thou'rt my soul itself ; wealth, friendship,
honour,
All present joys, and earnest of all future,
Are summ'd in thee.

Enter OFFICERS, and Guards, R.H.

Offi. Stand ! who goes there ?

Bel. Friends .
Offi. But what friends are you ?
Bel. Friends to the senate, and the state of Venice.
Offi, My orders are to seize on all I find
At this late hour, and bring ' em to the council,
Who are now sitting.
Jaf. Sir, you shall be obey'd . (Crosses to centre .)
Now the lot's cast, and fate, do what thou wilt.
[Exeunt, guarded, R.H.

c6
36 VENICE PRESERVED.

SCENE II.-The Senate- house, where appear sit

ting the DUKE of Venice, PRIULI, and other
Senators.

Duke. Anthony, Priuli, senators of Venice,

Speak, why are we assembled here this night ?
What have you to inform us of, concerns
The state of Venice's honour, or its safety?
Pri. (R.H.) Could words express the story I've to
tell you,
Fathers, these tears were useless, these sad tears
That fall from my old eyes ; but there is cause
We all should weep , tear off these purple robes,
And wrap ourselves in sackcloth, sitting down
On the sad earth, and cry aloud to heav'n :
Heav'n knows, if yet there be an hour to come
Ere Venice be no more.
All Sen. How!
Pri. Nay, we stand
Upon the very brink of gaping ruin.
Within this city's form'd a dark conspiracy,
To massacre us all, our wives and children,
Kindred and friends, our palaces and temples
To lay in ashes : nay, the hour too fix'd ;
The swords, for aught I know, drawn e'en this moment,
And the wild waste begun. From unknown hands
I had this warning ; but, if we are men,
Let's not be tamely butcher'd, but do something
That may inform the world, in after ages,
Our virtue was not ruin'd, though we were.
(A noise without, L.H.)
Capt. Room, room, make room for some prisoners
(Without, L.H.)

Enter OFFICER and Guards, L.H.D.

Duke. Speak, there. What disturbance ?

Offi. Two prisoners have the guards seiz'd in the
street,
 VENICE PRESERVED . 37
Who say, they come t' inform this reverend council
About the present danger.
All Sen. Give ' em entrance-(Officer goes to L.H.D.
then enter Jaffier, Captain, and Guards .)
Well, who are you ?
(The Captain and Guards proceed behind the
Duke's chair round to R.H. where they remain ;
the Officer waits L.H. between Jaffier and the
Duke.)
Jaf. A villain !
Would every man, that hears me,
Would deal so honestly, and own his title.
Duke. 'Tis rumour'd, that a plot has been contriv'd
Against this state ; and you've a share in't too.
If you are a villain, to redeem your honour,
Unfold the truth, and be restor❜d with mercy.
Jaf. Think not, that I to save my life came hither ;
I know its value better ; but in pity
To all those wretches whose unhappy dooms
Are fix'd and seal'd . You see me here before you,
The sworn and covenanted foe of Venice :
But use me as my dealings may deserve,
And I may prove a friend.
Duke, The slave capitulates ;
Give him the tortures.
Jaf. That you dare not do ;
Your fear won't let you, nor the longing itch
To hear a story which you dread the truth of :
Truth, which the fear of smart shall ne'er get from me.
Cowards are scar'd with threat'nings ; boys are whipt
Into confessions ; but a steady mind
Acts of itself, ne'er asks the body's counsel.
Give him the tortures ! Name but such a thing
Again, by heav'n I'll shut these lips for ever.
Not all your racks, your engines, or your wheels,
Shall force a groan away, that you may guess at.
Duke. Name your conditions .
Jaf. For myself full pardon,
Besides the lives of two-and-twenty friends,
Whose names are here enroll'd- Nay, let their crimes,
38 VENICE PRESERVED .
Be ne'er so monstrous, I must have the oaths
And sacred promises of this reverend council,
That, in a full assembly of the senate
The thing I ask be ratified . Swear this,
And I'll unfold the secret of your danger.
Duke. Propose the oath.
Jaf. By all the hopes
Ye have of peace and happiness hereafter,
Swear. - Ye swear ?
All Sen. We swear. (All the council bow.)
Jaf. And, as ye keep the oath,
May you and your posterity be bless'd,
Or curs'd for ever.
All Sen. Else be curs'd for ever. ( They bow again. )
Jaf. Then here's the list, and with't the full disclose
Of all that threatens you.
(Delivers a paper to the Officer who gives it
to the Duke.)
Now, fate, thou hast caught me.
Duke. Give order that all diligent search be made
To seize these men , their characters are public ;
(The Duke gives the first paper to the Officer. )
The paper intimates their rendezvous
To be at the house of a fam'd Grecian courtezan ,
Call'd Aquilina ; see that place secur❜d .
You, Jaffier, must with patience bear till morning
To be our prisoner .
Jaf. Would the chains of death
Had bound me safe, ere I had known this minute.
Duke. Captain, withdraw your prisoner.
Jaf. Sir, if possible, (Crosses to Capt. R.H.)
Lead me where my own thoughts themselves may
lose me ;
Where I may doze out what I've left of life,
Forget myself, and this day's guilt and falsehood .
Cruel remembrance, how shall I appease thee ?
[ Exit guarded, R.H.D.
Offi. (Without. ) More traitors ; room, room, make
room, there.
Duke. How's this ? guards !
 VENICE PRESERVED . 39
Where are your guards ? Shut up the gates, the trea
son's
Already at our doors .

Enter OFFICER, L.H.

Offi. My lords, more traitors,

Seiz'd in the very act of consultation ;
Furnish'd with arms and instruments of mischief.
Bring in the prisoners.
Enter ELLIOT, THEODORE, RENAULT, REVIllido ,
PIERRE, and other Conspirators, in fetters, L.H.D.
Pier. (L.H.) You , my lords, and fathers
(As you are pleas'd to call yourselves) of Venice ;
Ifyou sit here to guide the course of justice ,
Why these disgraceful chains upon the limbs
That have so often labour'd in your service ?
Are these the wreaths of triumph ye bestow
On those that bring you conquest home, and honours ?
Duke. Go on ; you shall be heard , sir .
Ant. And be hang'd too, I hope .
Pier. Are these the trophies I've deserv'd for
fighting
Your battles with confederated powers ?
When winds and seas conspir'd to overthrow you ;
And brought the fleets of Spain to your own harbours ;
When you, great Duke, shrunk trembling in your
palace,
And saw your wife, the Adriatic, plough'd,
Like a lewd whore, by bolder prows than yours ;
Stepp'd not I forth, and taught your loose Venetians
The task of honour, and the way to greatness ?
Rais'd you from your capitulating fears
To stipulate the terms of sued-for peace ?
And this my recompense ! If I'm a traitor,
Produce my charge ; or show the wretch that's base
And brave enough to tell me I'm a traitor.
Duke. Know you one Jaffier ?
(Conspirators murmur.)
40 VENICE PRESERVED .
Pier. Yes, and know his virtue.
His justice, truth, his general worth, and sufferings,
From a hard father taught me first to love him .
Duke, See him brought forth.
Enter JAFFIER, R.H.D. guarded.
Pier. My friend too bound ! nay then
Our fate has conquer'd us, and we must fall.
Why droops the man whose welfare's so much mine,
They're but one thing ? These reverend tyrants,
Jaffier,
Call us traitors , art thou one, my brother?
Jaf. To thee I am the falsest, veriest slave,
That e'er betray'd a generous, trusting friend,
And gave up honour to be sure of ruin.
All our fair hopes which morning was t' have crown'd,
Has this curst tongue o'erthrown.
Pier. So then, all's over :
Venice has lost her freedom, I my life.
No more ! Farewell !
Duke. Say ; will you make confession
Of your vile deeds, and trust the senate's mercy.
Pier. Curs'd be your senate ! curs'd your consti
tution :
The curse of growing factions and divisions,
Still vex your councils, shake your public safety,
And make the robes of government you wear
Hateful to you, as these base chains to me.
Duke. Pardon, or death ?
Pier. Death ! honourable death !
Ren. Death's the best thing we ask, or you can
give,
No shameful bonds, but honourable death.
Duke. Break up the council. Captain, guard your
prisoners.
Jaffier, you're free, but these must wait for judgment.
(The Captain takes off Jaffier's chains.- The
Duke and Council go away through the
arch.-The Conspirators, all but Jaffier and
Pierre, go offguarded, L.H.D.)
 VENICE PRESERVED . 41

Pier. Come, where's my dungeon ? Lead me to my

straw ?
It will not be the first time I've lodg'd hard
To do the senate service.
Jaf. Hold, one moment.
Pier. Who's he disputes the judgment of the senate ?
Presumptuous rebel- ( Strikes Jaf.) -on- ( To Offi.)
Jaf. By heav'n , you stir not !
I must be heard ; I must have leave to speak.
Thou hast disgrac'd me, Pierre , by a vile blow :
Had not a dagger done thee nobler justice ?
But use me as thou wilt, thou canst not wrong me ;
For I am fallen beneath the basest injuries :
Yet look upon me with an eye of mercy,
With pity and with charity behold me:
And as there dwells a godlike nature in thee,
Listen with mildness to my supplications.
Pier. What whining monk art thou ? what holy cheat,
That wouldst encroach upon my credulous ears,
And cant'st thus vilely ? Hence ! I know thee not :
Leave, hypocrite .
Jaf. Not know me, Pierre ?
Pier. No, I know thee not ! What art thou ?
Jaf. Jaffier, thy friend, thy once lov'd , valu'd friend !
Though now deservedly scorn'd, and us'd most hardly.
Pier. Thou, Jaffier ! thou, my once lov'd, valu'd
friend !
By heavens, thou liest ! the man so call'd, my friend,
Was generous, honest, faithful, just, and valiant ;
Noble in mind, and in his person lovely ;
Dear to my eyes, and tender to my heart :
But thou, a wretched , base, false, worthless coward,
Poor even in soul, and loathsome in thy aspect ;
All eyes must shun thee, and all hearts detest thee.
Pr'ythee avoid ; nor longer cling thus round me,
Like something baneful, that my nature's chill'd at.
Jaf. I have not wrong'd thee, by these tears I have
not.
Pier. Hast thou not wrong'd me ? Dar'st thou call
thyself
42 VENICE PRESERVED .
That once lov'd, valu'd friend of mine,
And swear thou hast not wrong'd me ? Whence these
chains ?
Whence the vile death which I may meet this moment ?
Whence this dishonour, but from thee, thou false one ?
Jaf. All's true, yet grant one thing, and I've done
asking.
Pier. What's that ?
Jaf. To take thy life, on such conditions
The council have propos'd : thou and thy friends,
May yet live long, and to be better treated .
Pier. Life ! ask my life ! confess ! record myself
A villain, for the privilege to breathe !
And carry up and down this cursed city,
A discontented and repining spirit,
Burthensome to itself, a few years longer ;
To lose it, may be at last, in a lewd quarrel
For some new friend, treacherous and false as thou art !
No , this vile world and I have long been jangling,
And cannot part on better terms than now,
When only men, like thee, are fit to live in't.
Jaf. By all that's just
Pier. Swear by some other powers,
For thou hast broke that sacred oath too lately.
Jaf. Then, by that hell I merit, I'll not leave thee,
Till, to thyself, at least thou'rt reconcil'd,
However thy resentment deal with me.
Pier. Not leave me!
Jaf. No, thou shalt not force me from thee.
Use me reproachfully, and like a slave ;
Tread on me, buffet me, heap wrongs on wrongs
On my poor head ; I'll bear it all with patience
Shall weary out thy most unfriendly cruelty :
Lie at thy feet, and kiss ' em though they spurn me,
Till wounded by my sufferings, thou relent,
And raise me to thy arms, with dear forgiveness .
Pier. Art thou not
Jaf. What?
Pier. A traitor ?
Jaf. Yes.
 VENICE PRESERVED . 43
Pier. A villain ?
Jaf. Granted.
Pier. A coward, a most scandalous coward ;
Spiritless, void of honour ; one who has sold
Thy everlasting fame, for shameless life ?
Jaf. All, all and more, much more : my faults are
numberless.
Pier. And wouldst thou have me live on terms like
thine ?
Base, as thou art false
Jaf. No: ' tis to me that's granted :
The safety of thy life was all I aim'd at,
In recompense for faith and trust so broken .
Pier. I scorn it more, because preserv'd by thee ;
And, as when first my foolish heart took pity
On thy misfortunes, sought thee in thy miseries,
Reliev'd thy wants, and rais'd thee from the state
Of wretchedness, in which thy fate had plung'd thee,
To rank thee in my list of noble friends ;
All I receiv'd, in surety for thy truth,
Were unregarded oaths, and this, this dagger,
Giv'n with a worthless pledge, thou since hast stol'n :
So I restore it back to thee again ;
Swearing by all those powers which thou hast violated,
Never, from this curst hour, to hold communion ,
Friendship, or interest, with thee, though our years
Were to exceed those limited the world.
Take it-farewell-for now I owe thee nothing.
Jaf. Say, thou wilt live then.
Pier. For my life, dispose it
Just as thou wilt, because ' tis what I'm tir'd with.
Jaf. Oh, Pierre !
Pier. No more.
Jaf. My eyes won't lose sight of thee,
But languish after thee, and ache with gazing.
Pier. Leave me- Nay then thus, thus I throw thee
from me ;
And curses, great as is thy falsehood, catch thee.
[ Exit R.H. Guarded.
Jaf. Amen.
44 VENICE PRESERVED.

He's gone, my father, friend, preserver,

And here's the portion he has left me :
(Holds the Dagger up.)
This dagger. Well remember'd ! with this dagger,
I gave a solemn vow, of dire importance ;
Parted with this, and Belvidera together.
Have a care, mem'ry, drive that thought no farther :
No, I'll esteem it as a friend's last legacy ;
Treasure it up within this wretched bosom,
Where it may grow acquainted with my heart,
That when they meet they start not from each other.
So, now for thinking-A blow, call'd a traitor, villain ,
Coward, dishonourable coward ; faugh!
Oh ! fora long sound sleep, and so forget it.
Down, busy devil !

Enter BELVIDERA, L.H.D.

Bel. Whither shall I fly ?

Where hide me and my miseries together ?
Where's now the Roman constancy I boasted ?
Sunk into trembling fears and desperation,
Not daring to look up to that dear face
Which used to smile, ev'n on my faults ; but, down ,
Bending these miserable eyes on earth,
Must move in penance, and implore much mercy.
Jaf. Mercy ! kind heav'n has surely endless stores,
Hoarded for thee, of blessings yet untasted :
Oh , Belvidera ! I'm the wretched'st creature
E'er crawl'd on earth.
My friend too, Belvidera, that dear friend,
Who, next to thee, was all my health rejoic'd in,
Has us'd me like a slave, shamefully us'd me :.
"Twould break thy pitying heart to hear the story.
Bel. What has he done ?
Jaf. Before we parted,
Ere yet his guards had led him to his prison,
Full of severest sorrows for his sufferings ,
With eyes o'erflowing, and a bleeding heart,
As at his feet I kneeled and sued for mercy ;
 VENICE PRESERVED . 45

With a reproachful hand he dash'd a blow :

He struck me, Belvidera ! by heav'n he struck me !
Buffeted, call'd me traitor, villain, coward !
Am I a coward ? Am I a villain ? Tell me :
Thou'rt the best judge , and mad'st me, if I am so !
Damnation ! Coward!
Bel. Oh ! forgive him, Jaffier ;
And, if his sufferings wound thy heart already,
What will they do to-morrow ?
Jaf. Ah!
Bel. To- morrow,
When thou shalt see him stretch'd in all the agonies
Of a tormenting and a shameful death :
His bleeding bowels, and his broken limbs,
Insulted o'er, by a vile, butchering villain ;
What will thy heart do then ? Oh ! sure ' twill stream ,
Like my eyes now.
Jaf. What means thy dreadful story ?
Death, and to-morrow !
Bel. The faithless senators, ' tis they've decreed it :
They say, according to our friends' request,
They shall have death, and not ignoble bondage :
Declare their promis'd mercy all as forfeited :
False to their oaths, and deaf to intercession ,
Warrants are pass'd for public death to-morrow.
Jaf. Death! doom'd to die ! condemn'd unheard !
unpleaded !
Bel. Nay, cruel'st racks and torments are preparing
To force confession from their dying pangs.
Oh ! do not look so terribly upon me !
How your lips shake, and all your face disorder'd !
What means my love ?
Jaf. Leave me, I charge thee, leave me- Strong
temptations
Wake in my heart.
Bel. For what ?
Jaf. No more, but leave me.
Bel. Why?
Jaf. Oh ! by heav'n, I love thee with that fondness,
46 VENICE PRESERVED.
I would not have thee stay a moment longer
Near these curs'd hands : Are they not cold upon thee ?
(Pulls the Dagger half out of his Bosom, and
puts it back again.)
Bel. No, everlasting comfort's in thy arms.
To lean thus on thy breast, is softer ease
Than downy pillows, deck'd with leaves of roses.
Jaf. Alas ! thou think'st not of the thorns ' tis fill'd
with :
Fly, ere they gall thee. There's a lurking serpent,
Ready to leap and sting thee to the heart :
Art thou not terrified ?
Bel. No.
Jaf. Call to mind .
What thou hast done, and whither thou hast brought
me.
Bel. Hah !
Jaf. Where's my friend ? my friend, thou smiling
mischief!
Nay, shrink not, now ' tis too late ; thou shouldst have
fled
When thy guilt first had cause ; for dire revenge
Is up, and raging for my friend. He groans !
Hark, how he groans ! his screams are in my ears !
Already, see, they've fixed him on the wheel,
And now they tear him-- Murder ! Perjur'd senate !
Murder-Oh ! -Hark thee, traitress, thou hast done
this,
Thanks to thy tears and false persuading love.
How her eyes speak ! Oh , thou bewitching creature !
(Feeling for his Dagger. )
Madness can't hurt thee . Come, thou little trembler,
Creep even into my heart, and there lie safe :
'Tis thy own citadel- Hah- yet stand off.
Heav'n must have justice, and my broken vows
Will sink me else beneath its reaching mercy.
I'll wink, and then ' tis done
Bel. What means the lord
Of me, my life, and love ? What's in thy bosom,
 VENICE PRESERVED. 47
Thou grasp'st at so ? Nay, why am I thus treated ?
(Jaffier draws the Dagger, and offers to stab her.)
Jaf. Know, Belvidera , when we parted last,
I gave this dagger with thee, as in trust,
To be thy portion if I e'er prov'd false.
On such condition , was my truth believ'd :
But now ' tis forfeited , and must be paid for.
(Offers to stab her again.)
Bel. Oh ! Mercy ! (Kneeling.)
Jaf. Nay, no struggling.
Bel. Now then, kill me.
While thus I cling about thy cruel neck,
Kiss thy revengeful lips, and die in joys
Greater than any I can guess hereafter .
(Leaps on his Neck, and kisses him.)
Jaf. I am, I am a coward ; witness heav'n,
Witness it, earth , and every being witness :
'Tis but one blow ! yet by immortal love,
I cannot longer bear a thought to harm thee.
(He throws away the Dagger, and embraces her.)
The seal of Providence is sure upon thee :
And thou wert born for yet unheard-of wonders.
Oh ! thou wert either born to save or damn me !
By all the power that's giv'n thee o'er my soul,
By thy resistless tears and conquering smiles,
By the victorious love that still waits on thee,
Fly to thy cruel father, save my friend,
Or all our future quiet's lost for ever.
Fall at his feet, cling round his reverend knees,
Speak to him with thy eyes, and with thy tears,
Melt his hard heart, and wake dead nature in him,
Crush him in th' arms, torture him with thy softness ;
Nor, till thy prayers are granted, set him free,
But conquer him, as thou hast conquer'd me.
[ Exeunt ; Bel. L.H.D. Jaf. R.H.

END OF ACT IV .
48 VENICE PRESERVED .

ACT V.

SCENE I.- An Apartment in Priuli's House.

Enter PRIULI , r.h.

Pri. Why, cruel heav'n, have my unhappy days

Been lengthen'd to this sad one ? Oh ! dishonour
And deathless infamy is fallen upon me.
Was it my fault ? Am I a traitor ? No.
But then, my only child, my daughter wedded ; ---
There my best blood runs foul, and a disease
Incurable has seiz'd upon my memory.

Enter BELVIDERA, L.H.U.E. in a long mourning Veil.

Bel. He's there, my father, my inhuman father,

That for three years has left an only child
Expos'd to all the outrages of fate,
And cruel ruin !-Oh
Pri. What child of sorrow
Art thou, that com'st wrapt up in weeds of sadness,
And mov'st as if thy steps were tow'rds a grave ?
Bel. A wretch, who from the very top of happiness
Am fall'n into the lowest depths of misery,
And want your pitying hand to raise me up again.
Pri. What wouldst thou beg for ?
Bel. Pity and forgiveness. (Throws up her veil.)
By the kind, tender names of child and father
Hear my complaints, and take me to your love.
Pri. My daughter !
Bel. Yes, your daughter !
And you've oft told me,
With smiles of love and chaste paternal kisses,
I'd much resemblance of my mother.
Pri. Don't talk thus.
Bel. Yes, I must, and you must hear me too.
Ihave a husband.
Pri. Damn him.
Bel. Oh ! do not curse him ;
 VENICE PRESERVED. 49

He would not speak so hard a word towards you

On any terms, howe'er he deals with me.
Pri. Ha ! what means my child ?
Bel. Oh ! my husband, my dear husband,
Carries a dagger in his once kind bosom ,
To pierce the heart of your poor Belvidera.
Pri. Kill thee !
Bel. Yes, kill me. When he pass'd his faith
And covenant against your state and senate,
He gave me up a hostage for his truth :
With me a dagger and a dire commission,
Whene'er he fail'd, to plunge it through this bosom.
I learnt the danger, chose the hour of love
T' attempt his heart, and bring it back to honour.
Great love prevail'd, and bless'd me with success !
He came, confess'd, betray'd his dearest friends
For promis'd mercy. Now they're doom'd to suffer.
Gall'd with remembrance of what then was sworn,
If they are lost, he vows t' appease the gods
With this poor life, and make my blood th' atonement.
Pri. Heav'ns !
Bel. If I was ever then your care, now hear me ;
Fly to the senate, save the promis'd lives
Of his dear friends, ere mine be made the sacrifice.
Pri. Oh, my heart's comfort !
Bel. Will you not my father ?
Weep not, but answer me.
Pri. By heav'n I will.
Not one of them but what shall be immortal.
Canst thou forgive me all my follies past ?
I'll henceforth be indeed a father ; never,
Never more thus expose, but cherish thee,
Dear as the vital warmth that feeds my life,
Dear as these eyes that weep in fondness o'er thee.
Peace to thy heart. Farewell.
Bel. Go and remember,
"Tis Belvidera's life her father pleads for.
[Exeunt, Bel. L.H. Pri. R.H.
50 VENICE PRESERVED .

SCENE II.- A Garden.

Enter JAFFIER, R.H.

Jaf. Final destruction seize on all the world !
Bend down ye heav'ns, and shutting round this earth,
Crush the vile globe into its first confusion !
Enter BELVIDERA , L.H.
Bel. My life-(Meeting him.)
Jaf. My plague— ( Turning from her.)
Bel. Nay, then I see my ruin.
If I must die !
Jaf. Norlet the thoughts of death perplex thy fancy ;
But answer me to what I shall demand,
With a firm temper and unshaken spirit.
Bel. I will, when I've done weeping
Jaf. Fie, no more on't
How long is't since that miserable day
We wedded first.
Bel. Oh! Oh !
Jaf. Nay, keep in thy tears,
Lest they unman me too.
Bel. Heav'n knows I cannot ;
The words you utter sound so very sadly,
The streams will follow
Jaf. Come, I'll kiss ' em dry then.
Bel. But was't a miserable day ?
Jaf. A curs'd one.
Bel. I thought it otherwise ; and you've often sworn,
In the transporting hours of warmest love,
When sure you spoke the truth, you've sworn you
bless'd it.
Jaf. Twas a rash oath.
Bel. Then why am I not curs'd too ?
Jaf. No, Belvidera ; by th' eternal truth,
I dote with too much fondness.
Bel. Still so kind ?
Still then do you love me ?
Jaf. Man ne'er was blest
Since the first pair met, as I have been .
 VENICE PRESERVED. 51

Bel. Then sure you will not curse me ?

Jaf. No, I'll bless thee.
I came on purpose, Belvidera, to bless thee.
'Tis now, I think, three years, we've lived together.
Bel. And may no fatal minute ever part us,
Till, reverend grown for age and love, we go
Down to one grave, as our last bed, together :
There sleep in peace, till an eternal morning.
Jaf. Did I not say, I came to bless thee ?
Bel. You did.
Jaf. Then hear me, bounteous heav'n :
Pour down your blessings on this beauteous head,
Where everlasting sweets are always springing,
With a continual giving hand :-let peace,
Honour, and safety, always hover round her !
Feed her with plenty ; let her eyes ne'er see
A sight of sorrow, nor her heart know mourning :
Crown all her days with joy, her nights with rest,
Harmless as her own thoughts ; and prop her virtue,
To bear the loss of one that too much lov'd ;
And comfort her with patience in our parting .
Bel. How! Parting , parting !
Jaf. Yes, for ever part ;
I have sworn, Belvidera, by yon heav'n,
That best can tell how much I lose to leave thee,
We part this hour for ever. (Crosses to L.H. )
Bel. Oh ! call back
Your cruel blessing ; stay with me, and curse me.
Jaf. Now hold heart, or never .
Bel. By all the tender days we've liv'd together,
Pity my sad condition ; speak, but speak.
Jaf. Oh ! Oh !
Bel. By these arms, that now cling round thy neck,
By these poor streaming eyes
Jaf. Murder ! unhold me :
Or by th' immortal destiny that doom'd me
(Draws the dagger.)
To this curs'd minute , I'll not live one longer ;
Resolve to let me go or see me fall—
Hark, the dismal bell (Passing bell tolls .)
D 2
52 VENICE PRESERVED .
Tolls out for death ! I must attend its call too ;
For my poor friend, my dying Pierre, expects me :
He sent a message to require I'd see him
Before he died, and take his last forgiveness .
Farewell , for ever.
Bel. Leave thy dagger with me,
Bequeath me something- Not one kiss at parting ?
Oh ! my poor heart, when wilt thou break ?
(Going out, looks back at him .)
Jaf. Yet stay :
We have a child, as yet a tender infant :
Be a kind mother to him when I'm gone :
Breed him in virtue, and the paths of honour,
But never let him know his father's story ;
1 charge thee, guard him from the wrongs my fate
May do his future fortune, or his name :
Now- nearer yet— (Approaching each other.)
Oh ! that my arms were rivetted
Thus round thee ever ! But my friend ! my oath !
This, and no more. (Kisses her.)
Bel. Another, sure another,
For that poor little one you've ta'en such care of.
I'll giv't him truly.
Jaf. So now farewell .
Bel. For ever ?
Jaf. Heav'n knows, for ever ; all good angels guard
thee. [Exit, L.H.
Bel. All ill ones sure had charge of me this moment.
Curs'd be my days, and doubly curs'd my nights,
Oh ! give me daggers, fire, or water :
How I could bleed, how burn, how drown the waves
Huzzing and booming round my sinking head,
Till I descended to the peaceful bottom !
Oh ! there's all quiet, here, all rage and fury :
The air's too thin, and pierces my weak brain ;
I long for thick, substantial sleep ; hell ! hell !
Burst from the centre, rage and roar aloud,
If thou art half so hot, so mad as I am. [Exit, R.H.
 VENICE PRESERVED . 53

SCENE III - A Scaffold, and a Wheel prepared for

the Execution of Pierre.

Enter OFFICER , PIERRE, Guards, Executioner, and

a great Rabble, R.H.
Pier. My friend not come yet ?
Enter JAFFIER, L.H.

Juf. Oh, Pierre ! (They embrace in centre.)

Pier. Yet nearer .
Dear to my arms, though thou'st undone my fame,
I can't forget to love thee. Pr'ythee , Jaffier,
Forgive that filthy blow my passion dealt thee ;
I'm now preparing for the land of peace,
And fain would have the charitable wishes
Of all good men , like thee, to bless my journey.
Jaf. Good! I am the vilest creature , worse than e’er
Suffer'd the shameful fate thou'rt going to taste of.
Off. (R.H.) The time grows short, your friends are
dead already .
Jaf. Dead !
Pier. Yes, dead, Jaffier ; they've all died like men too,
Worthy their character.
Jaf. And what must I do ?
Pier. Oh, Jaffier !
Jaf. Speak aloud thy burthen'd soul,
And tell thy troubles to thy tortur'd friend.
Pier. Friend ! Could'st thou yet be a friend, a gene
rous friend,
I might hope comfort from thy noble sorrows.
Heav'n knows, I want a friend.
Jaf. And I a kind one,
That would not thus scorn my repenting virtue,
Or think, when he's to die, my thoughts are idle.
Pier. No ! live, I charge thee, Jaffier.
Jaf. Yes, I will live :
But it shall be to see thy fall reveng'd
At such a rate, as Venice long shall groan for.
Pier. Wilt thou ?
54 VENICE PRESERVED .

Jaf. I will, by heav'n .

Pier. Then still thou'rt noble,
And I forgive thee . Oh- yet- shall I trust thee ?
Jaf. No ; I've been false already.
Pier. Dost thou love me ?
Jaf. Rip up my heart, and satisfy thy doubtings.
Pier. Curse on this weakness . (Weeps.)
Jaf. Tears ! Amazement ! Tears !
I never saw thee melted thus before ;
And know there's something lab'ring in thy bosom,
That must have vent : Though I'm a villain , tell me.
Pier. Seest thou that engine? ( Pointing to the wheel.)
Juf. Why?
Pier. Is't fit a soldier, who has liv'd with honour,
Fought nations' quarrels, and been crown'd with con
quest,
Be expos'd a common carcase on a wheel ?
Jaf. Hah!
Pier. Speak ! is't fitting ?
Jaf. Fitting ?
Pier. Yes ; is't fitting ?
Jaf. What's to be done ?
Pier. I'd have thee undertake
Something that's noble, to preserve my memory
From the disgrace that's ready to attaint it.
Off. The day grows late, sir.
Pier. I'll make haste . Oh, Jaffier !
Though thou'st betray'd me, do me some way justice.
Jaf. No more of that : thy wishes shall be satisfied ;
I have a wife, and she shall bleed : my child too,
Yield up his little throat, and all
T'appease thee. (Going away, Pierre holds him .)
Pier. No-this- no more. (Whispers Jaf.)
Jaf. Hah ! is't then so ?
Pier. Most certainly.
Jaf. I'll do it.
Pier. Remember.
Off. Sir.
Pier. Come, now I'm ready.
(He and Jaf. ascend the scaffold, r.h. )
 VENICE PRESERVED. 55

Captain, you should be a gentleman of honour ;

Keep off the rabble, that I may have room
To entertain my fate, and die with decency.
Come. (Takes off his gown, executioner prepares
tthee!
to bind him.)
You'll think on't. (To Jaf.)
bubtings Juf. " Twon't grow stale before to- morrow..
Pier. Now, Jaffier ! now I'm going. Now
T
(Executioner having bound him.)
Jaf. Have at thee,
Thou honest heart, then-here (Stabs him .)
7besom, And this is well too. (Stabs himself. )
n. tellme. Pier. Now thou hast indeed been faithful.
This was done nobly-We have deceiv'd the senate.
Jaf. Bravely.
bhonour, Pier. Ha, ha, ha- oh ! oh ! (Dies.)
dwithcon
Jaf. Now, ye curs'd rulers,
Thus of the blood y'ave shed, I make libation,
And sprinkle it mingling. May it rest upon you,
And all your race. Be henceforth peace a stranger
Within your walls ; let plagues and famine waste
Your generation - Oh , poor Belvidera !
Sir, I have a wife, bear this in safety to her,
A token that with my dying breath I bless'd her,
And the dear little infant left behind me.
mory I'm sick- I'm quiet (Dies .- Scene shuts upon them.)
SCENE IV.- An Apartment at Priuli's.
Soft Music.- Enter BELVIDERA, distracted, PRiuli,
yjustic.e and Servants, R.H.
esatisfed
Pri. (L.H.) Strengthen her heart with patience,
too, pitying heav'n!
Bel. (In centre. ) Come, come, come, come, come,
oldshim nay, come to bed,
persJaf) Pr'ythee, my love. The winds ! hark how they whistle :
And the rain beats : Oh ! how the weather shrinks me !
You are angry now, who cares ? Pish ! no indeed,
Choose then ; I say you shall not go, you shall not ;
Whip your ill nature ; get you gone then. Oh !
Are you return'd ? See, father, here he's come again :

Oldy Bully
56 VENICE PRESERVED .
Am I to blame to love him ? Oh, thou dear one !
Why do you fly me ? Are you angry still then ?
Jaffier, where art thou ? Father, why do you thus ?
Stand off, don't hide him from me. He's here some .
where.
Stand off, I say : What gone ? Remember't, tyrant :
I may revenge myself for this trick, one day.
Enter OFFICER, L.H.

Pri. News ; what news ? (Off. whispers Priuli.)

Off. Most sad, sir ;
Jaffier, upon the scaffold, to prevent
A shameful death, stabb'd Pierre, and next himself ;
Both fell together.
Pri. Daughter !
Bel. Ha ! look there !
My husband bloody, and his friend too ! Murder !
Who has done this ? Speak to me, thou sad vision :
On these poor trembling knees I beg it. Vanish'd
Here they went down- Oh , I'll dig, dig, the den up !
You sha'n't delude me thus. Hoa, Jaffer, Jaflier,
Peep up, and give me but a look. I have him !
I've got him, father : Oh !
Mylove ; my dear ! my blessing ! help me ! help me !
They have hold on me , and drag me to the bottom .
Nay- now they pull so hard- farewell. (Dies .)
(The Curtain falls to slow music.)

Disposition ofthe Characters when the Curtain falls.

TS

BEL
AN
N

VID
ERA .
ME
RV

PR
WO
SE

IU
.

OFF

LI
.
ICE
R.

Finis.
R.H. CURTAIN. L.H.
Oxberry & Co. Printers, 8, White-hart Yard.

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