SCENE II.
Venice. A street
Enter PORTIA and NERISSA
PORTIA. Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this deed,
And let him sign it; we'll away tonight,
And be a day before our husbands home.
This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo.
Enter GRATIANO
GRATIANO. Fair sir, you are well o'erta'en.
My Lord Bassanio, upon more advice,
Hath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat
Your company at dinner.
PORTIA. That cannot be.
His ring I do accept most thankfully,
And so, I pray you, tell him. Furthermore,
I pray you show my youth old Shylock's house.
GRATIANO. That will I do.
NERISSA. Sir, I would speak with you.
[Aside to PORTIA] I'll See if I can get my husband's ring,
Which I did make him swear to keep for ever.
PORTIA. [To NERISSA] Thou Mayst, I warrant. We shall have old
swearing
That they did give the rings away to men;
But we'll outface them, and outswear them too.
[Aloud] Away, make haste, thou know'st where I will tarry.
NERISSA. Come, good sir, will you show me to this house?
Exeunt
ACT V. SCENE I.
Belmont. The garden before PORTIA'S house
Enter LORENZO and JESSICA
LORENZO. The moon shines bright. In such a night as this,
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees,
And they did make no noise- in such a night,
Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls,
And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents,
Where Cressid lay that night.
JESSICA. In such a night
Did Thisby fearfully o'ertrip the dew,
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself,
And ran dismayed away.
LORENZO. In such a night
Stood Dido with a willow in her hand
Upon the wild sea-banks, and waft her love
To come again to Carthage.
JESSICA. In such a night
Medea gathered the enchanted herbs
That did renew old AEson.
LORENZO. In such a night
Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew,
And with an unthrift love did run from Venice
As far as Belmont.
JESSICA. In such a night
Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well,
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith,
And ne'er a true one.
LORENZO. In such a night
Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,
Slander her love, and he forgave it her.
JESSICA. I would out-night you, did no body come;
But, hark, I hear the footing of a man.
Enter STEPHANO
LORENZO. Who comes so fast in silence of the night?
STEPHANO. A friend.
LORENZO. A friend! What friend? Your name, I pray you, friend?
STEPHANO. Stephano is my name, and I bring word
My mistress will before the break of day
Be here at Belmont; she doth stray about
By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays
For happy wedlock hours.
LORENZO. Who comes with her?
STEPHANO. None but a holy hermit and her maid.
I pray you, is my master yet return'd?
LORENZO. He is not, nor we have not heard from him.
But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica,
And ceremoniously let us prepare
Some welcome for the mistress of the house.
Enter LAUNCELOT
LAUNCELOT. Sola, sola! wo ha, ho! sola, sola!
LORENZO. Who calls?
LAUNCELOT. Sola! Did you see Master Lorenzo? Master Lorenzo! Sola,
sola!
LORENZO. Leave holloaing, man. Here!
LAUNCELOT. Sola! Where, where?
LORENZO. Here!
LAUNCELOT. Tell him there's a post come from my master with his
horn full of good news; my master will be here ere morning.
Exit
LORENZO. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their coming.
And yet no matter- why should we go in?
My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you,
Within the house, your mistress is at hand;
And bring your music forth into the air. Exit STEPHANO
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here will we sit and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold;
There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubins;
Such harmony is in immortal souls,
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
Enter MUSICIANS
Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn;
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear.
And draw her home with music. [Music]
JESSICA. I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
LORENZO. The reason is your spirits are attentive;
For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud,
Which is the hot condition of their blood-
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound,
Or any air of music touch their ears,
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze
By the sweet power of music. Therefore the poet
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods;
Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage,
But music for the time doth change his nature.
The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull:as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus.
Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music.
Enter PORTIA and NERISSA
PORTIA. That light we see is burning in my hall.
How far that little candle throws his beams!
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
NERISSA. When the moon shone, we did not see the candle.
PORTIA. So doth the greater glory dim the less:
A substitute shines brightly as a king
Until a king be by, and then his state
Empties itself, as doth an inland brook
Into the main of waters. Music! hark!
NERISSA. It is your music, madam, of the house.
PORTIA. Nothing is good, I see, without respect;
Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day.
NERISSA. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.
PORTIA. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark
When neither is attended; and I think
ne nightingale, if she should sing by day,
When every goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a musician than the wren.
How many things by season season'd are
To their right praise and true perfection!
Peace, ho! The moon sleeps with Endymion,
And would not be awak'd. [Music ceases]
LORENZO. That is the voice,
Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia.
PORTIA. He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo,
By the bad voice.
LORENZO. Dear lady, welcome home.
PORTIA. We have been praying for our husbands' welfare,
Which speed, we hope, the better for our words.
Are they return'd?
LORENZO. Madam, they are not yet;
But there is come a messenger before,
To signify their coming.
PORTIA.. Go in, Nerissa;
Give order to my servants that they take
No note at all of our being absent hence;
Nor you, Lorenzo; Jessica, nor you. [A tucket sounds]
LORENZO. Your husband is at hand; I hear his trumpet.
We are no tell-tales, madam, fear you not.
PORTIA. This night methinks is but the daylight sick;
It looks a little paler; 'tis a day
Such as the day is when the sun is hid.
Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and their followers
BASSANIO. We should hold day with the Antipodes,
If you would walk in absence of the sun.
PORTIA. Let me give light, but let me not be light,
For a light wife doth make a heavy husband,
And never be Bassanio so for me;
But God sort all! You are welcome home, my lord.
BASSANIO. I thank you, madam; give welcome to my friend.
This is the man, this is Antonio,
To whom I am so infinitely bound.
PORTIA. You should in all sense be much bound to him,
For, as I hear, he was much bound for you.
ANTONIO. No more than I am well acquitted of.
PORTIA. Sir, you are very welcome to our house.
It must appear in other ways than words,
Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy.
GRATIANO. [To NERISSA] By yonder moon I swear you do me wrong;
In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk.
Would he were gelt that had it, for my part,
Since you do take it, love, so much at heart.
PORTIA. A quarrel, ho, already! What's the matter?
GRATIANO. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
That she did give me, whose posy was
For all the world like cutler's poetry
Upon a knife, 'Love me, and leave me not.'
NERISSA. What talk you of the posy or the value?
You swore to me, when I did give it you,
That you would wear it till your hour of death,
And that it should lie with you in your grave;
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,
You should have been respective and have kept it.
Gave it a judge's clerk! No, God's my judge,
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it.
GRATIANO. He will, an if he live to be a man.
NERISSA. Ay, if a woman live to be a man.
GRATIANO. Now by this hand I gave it to a youth,
A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy
No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk;
A prating boy that begg'd it as a fee;
I could not for my heart deny it him.
PORTIA. You were to blame, I must be plain with you,
To part so slightly with your wife's first gift,
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger
And so riveted with faith unto your flesh.
I gave my love a ring, and made him swear
Never to part with it, and here he stands;
I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it
Nor pluck it from his finger for the wealth
That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano,
You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief;
An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it.
BASSANIO. [Aside] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off,
And swear I lost the ring defending it.
GRATIANO. My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away
Unto the judge that begg'd it, and indeed
Deserv'd it too; and then the boy, his clerk,
That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine;
And neither man nor master would take aught
But the two rings.
PORTIA. What ring gave you, my lord?
Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me.
BASSANIO. If I could add a lie unto a fault,
I would deny it; but you see my finger
Hath not the ring upon it; it is gone.
PORTIA. Even so void is your false heart of truth;
By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed
Until I see the ring.
NERISSA. Nor I in yours
Till I again see mine.
BASSANIO. Sweet Portia,
If you did know to whom I gave the ring,
If you did know for whom I gave the ring,
And would conceive for what I gave the ring,
And how unwillingly I left the ring,
When nought would be accepted but the ring,
You would abate the strength of your displeasure.
PORTIA. If you had known the virtue of the ring,
Or half her worthiness that gave the ring,
Or your own honour to contain the ring,
You would not then have parted with the ring.
What man is there so much unreasonable,
If you had pleas'd to have defended it
With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty
To urge the thing held as a ceremony?
Nerissa teaches me what to believe:
I'll die for't but some woman had the ring.
BASSANIO. No, by my honour, madam, by my soul,
No woman had it, but a civil doctor,
Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me,
And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him,
And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away-
Even he that had held up the very life
Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady?
I was enforc'd to send it after him;
I was beset with shame and courtesy;
My honour would not let ingratitude
So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady;
For by these blessed candles of the night,
Had you been there, I think you would have begg'd
The ring of me to give the worthy doctor.
PORTIA. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house;
Since he hath got the jewel that I loved,
And that which you did swear to keep for me,
I will become as liberal as you;
I'll not deny him anything I have,
No, not my body, nor my husband's bed.
Know him I shall, I am well sure of it.
Lie not a night from home; watch me like Argus;
If you do not, if I be left alone,
Now, by mine honour which is yet mine own,
I'll have that doctor for mine bedfellow.
NERISSA. And I his clerk; therefore be well advis'd
How you do leave me to mine own protection.
GRATIANO. Well, do you so, let not me take him then;
For, if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen.
ANTONIO. I am th' unhappy subject of these quarrels.
PORTIA. Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome not withstanding.
BASSANIO. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong;
And in the hearing of these many friends
I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes,
Wherein I see myself-
PORTIA. Mark you but that!
In both my eyes he doubly sees himself,
In each eye one; swear by your double self,
And there's an oath of credit.
BASSANIO. Nay, but hear me.
Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear
I never more will break an oath with thee.
ANTONIO. I once did lend my body for his wealth,
Which, but for him that had your husband's ring,
Had quite miscarried; I dare be bound again,
My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord
Will never more break faith advisedly.
PORTIA. Then you shall be his surety. Give him this,
And bid him keep it better than the other.
ANTONIO. Here, Lord Bassanio, swear to keep this ring.
BASSANIO. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor!
PORTIA. I had it of him. Pardon me, Bassanio,
For, by this ring, the doctor lay with me.
NERISSA. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano,
For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk,
In lieu of this, last night did lie with me.
GRATIANO. Why, this is like the mending of highways
In summer, where the ways are fair enough.
What, are we cuckolds ere we have deserv'd it?
PORTIA. Speak not so grossly. You are all amaz'd.
Here is a letter; read it at your leisure;
It comes from Padua, from Bellario;
There you shall find that Portia was the doctor,
Nerissa there her clerk. Lorenzo here
Shall witness I set forth as soon as you,
And even but now return'd; I have not yet
Enter'd my house. Antonio, you are welcome;
And I have better news in store for you
Than you expect. Unseal this letter soon;
There you shall find three of your argosies
Are richly come to harbour suddenly.
You shall not know by what strange accident
I chanced on this letter.
ANTONIO. I am dumb.
BASSANIO. Were you the doctor, and I knew you not?
GRATIANO. Were you the clerk that is to make me cuckold?
NERISSA. Ay, but the clerk that never means to do it,
Unless he live until he be a man.
BASSANIO. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow;
When I am absent, then lie with my wife.
ANTONIO. Sweet lady, you have given me life and living;
For here I read for certain that my ships
Are safely come to road.
PORTIA. How now, Lorenzo!
My clerk hath some good comforts too for you.
NERISSA. Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee.
There do I give to you and Jessica,
From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift,
After his death, of all he dies possess'd of.
LORENZO. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way
Of starved people.
PORTIA. It is almost morning,
And yet I am sure you are not satisfied
Of these events at full. Let us go in,
And charge us there upon inter'gatories,
And we will answer all things faithfully.
GRATIANO. Let it be so. The first inter'gatory
That my Nerissa shall be sworn on is,
Whether till the next night she had rather stay,
Or go to bed now, being two hours to day.
But were the day come, I should wish it dark,
Till I were couching with the doctor's clerk.
Well, while I live, I'll fear no other thing
So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. Exeunt
THE END
<>
1601
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR
by William Shakespeare
Dramatis Personae
SIR JOHN FALSTAFF
FENTON, a young gentleman
SHALLOW, a country justice
SLENDER, cousin to Shallow
Gentlemen of Windsor
FORD
PAGE
WILLIAM PAGE, a boy, son to Page
SIR HUGH EVANS, a Welsh parson
DOCTOR CAIUS, a French physician
HOST of the Garter Inn
Followers of Falstaff
BARDOLPH
PISTOL
NYM
ROBIN, page to Falstaff
SIMPLE, servant to Slender
RUGBY, servant to Doctor Caius
MISTRESS FORD
MISTRESS PAGE
MISTRESS ANNE PAGE, her daughter
MISTRESS QUICKLY, servant to Doctor Caius
SERVANTS to Page, Ford, etc.
<>
SCENE:
Windsor, and the neighbourhood
The Merry Wives of Windsor
ACT I. SCENE 1.
Windsor. Before PAGE'S house
Enter JUSTICE SHALLOW, SLENDER, and SIR HUGH EVANS
SHALLOW. Sir Hugh, persuade me not; I will make a Star
Chamber matter of it; if he were twenty Sir John Falstaffs,
he shall not abuse Robert Shallow, esquire.
SLENDER. In the county of Gloucester, Justice of Peace, and
Coram.
SHALLOW. Ay, cousin Slender, and Custalorum.
SLENDER. Ay, and Ratolorum too; and a gentleman born,
Master Parson, who writes himself 'Armigero' in any bill,
warrant, quittance, or obligation-'Armigero.'
SHALLOW. Ay, that I do; and have done any time these three
hundred years.
SLENDER. All his successors, gone before him, hath done't;
and all his ancestors, that come after him, may: they may
give the dozen white luces in their coat.
SHALLOW. It is an old coat.
EVANS. The dozen white louses do become an old coat well;
it agrees well, passant; it is a familiar beast to man, and
signifies love.
SHALLOW. The luce is the fresh fish; the salt fish is an old
coat.
SLENDER. I may quarter, coz.
SHALLOW. You may, by marrying.
EVANS. It is marring indeed, if he quarter it.
SHALLOW. Not a whit.
EVANS. Yes, py'r lady! If he has a quarter of your coat, there
is but three skirts for yourself, in my simple conjectures;
but that is all one. If Sir John Falstaff have committed
disparagements unto you, I am of the church, and will be
glad to do my benevolence, to make atonements and
compremises between you.
SHALLOW. The Council shall hear it; it is a riot.
EVANS. It is not meet the Council hear a riot; there is no
fear of Got in a riot; the Council, look you, shall desire
to hear the fear of Got, and not to hear a riot; take your
vizaments in that.
SHALLOW. Ha! o' my life, if I were young again, the sword
should end it.
EVANS. It is petter that friends is the sword and end it;
and there is also another device in my prain, which
peradventure prings goot discretions with it. There is Anne
Page, which is daughter to Master George Page, which is
pretty virginity.
SLENDER. Mistress Anne Page? She has brown hair, and
speaks small like a woman.
EVANS. It is that fery person for all the orld, as just as you
will desire; and seven hundred pounds of moneys, and
gold, and silver, is her grandsire upon his death's-bed-Got
deliver to a joyful resurrections!-give, when she is able to
overtake seventeen years old. It were a goot motion if we
leave our pribbles and prabbles, and desire a marriage
between Master Abraham and Mistress Anne Page.
SHALLOW. Did her grandsire leave her seven hundred pound?
EVANS. Ay, and her father is make her a petter penny.
SHALLOW. I know the young gentlewoman; she has good
gifts.
EVANS. Seven hundred pounds, and possibilities, is goot gifts.
SHALLOW. Well, let us see honest Master Page. Is Falstaff
there?
EVANS. Shall I tell you a lie? I do despise a liar as I do
despise one that is false; or as I despise one that is not
true. The knight Sir John is there; and, I beseech you, be
ruled by your well-willers. I will peat the door for Master
Page.
[Knocks] What, hoa! Got pless your house here!
PAGE. [Within] Who's there?
Enter PAGE
EVANS. Here is Got's plessing, and your friend, and Justice
Shallow; and here young Master Slender, that peradventures
shall tell you another tale, if matters grow to your
likings.
PAGE. I am glad to see your worships well. I thank you for
my venison, Master Shallow.
SHALLOW. Master Page, I am glad to see you; much good do
it your good heart! I wish'd your venison better; it was ill
kill'd. How doth good Mistress Page?-and I thank you
always with my heart, la! with my heart.
PAGE. Sir, I thank you.
SHALLOW. Sir, I thank you; by yea and no, I do.
PAGE. I am glad to see you, good Master Slender.
SLENDER. How does your fallow greyhound, sir? I heard say
he was outrun on Cotsall.
PAGE. It could not be judg'd, sir.
SLENDER. You'll not confess, you'll not confess.
SHALLOW. That he will not. 'Tis your fault; 'tis your fault;
'tis a good dog.
PAGE. A cur, sir.
SHALLOW. Sir, he's a good dog, and a fair dog. Can there be
more said? He is good, and fair. Is Sir John Falstaff here?
PAGE. Sir, he is within; and I would I could do a good office
between you.
EVANS. It is spoke as a Christians ought to speak.
SHALLOW. He hath wrong'd me, Master Page.
PAGE. Sir, he doth in some sort confess it.
SHALLOW. If it be confessed, it is not redressed; is not that
so, Master Page? He hath wrong'd me; indeed he hath; at a
word, he hath, believe me; Robert Shallow, esquire, saith
he is wronged.
PAGE. Here comes Sir John.
Enter SIR JOHN FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH, NYM, and PISTOL
FALSTAFF. Now, Master Shallow, you'll complain of me to
the King?
SHALLOW. Knight, you have beaten my men, kill'd my deer,
and broke open my lodge.
FALSTAFF. But not kiss'd your keeper's daughter.
SHALLOW. Tut, a pin! this shall be answer'd.
FALSTAFF. I will answer it straight: I have done all this.
That is now answer'd.
SHALLOW. The Council shall know this.
FALSTAFF. 'Twere better for you if it were known in counsel:
you'll be laugh'd at.
EVANS. Pauca verba, Sir John; goot worts.
FALSTAFF. Good worts! good cabbage! Slender, I broke your
head; what matter have you against me?
SLENDER. Marry, sir, I have matter in my head against you;
and against your cony-catching rascals, Bardolph, Nym,
and Pistol. They carried me to the tavern, and made me
drunk, and afterwards pick'd my pocket.
BARDOLPH. You Banbury cheese!
SLENDER. Ay, it is no matter.
PISTOL. How now, Mephostophilus!
SLENDER. Ay, it is no matter.
NYM. Slice, I say! pauca, pauca; slice! That's my humour.
SLENDER. Where's Simple, my man? Can you tell, cousin?
EVANS. Peace, I pray you. Now let us understand. There is
three umpires in this matter, as I understand: that is,
Master Page, fidelicet Master Page; and there is myself,
fidelicet myself; and the three party is, lastly and
finally, mine host of the Garter.
PAGE. We three to hear it and end it between them.
EVANS. Fery goot. I will make a prief of it in my note-book;
and we will afterwards ork upon the cause with as great
discreetly as we can.
FALSTAFF. Pistol!
PISTOL. He hears with ears.
EVANS. The tevil and his tam! What phrase is this, 'He hears
with ear'? Why, it is affectations.
FALSTAFF. Pistol, did you pick Master Slender's purse?
SLENDER. Ay, by these gloves, did he-or I would I might
never come in mine own great chamber again else!-of
seven groats in mill-sixpences, and two Edward
shovel-boards that cost me two shilling and two pence apiece
of Yead Miller, by these gloves.
FALSTAFF. Is this true, Pistol?
EVANS. No, it is false, if it is a pick-purse.
PISTOL. Ha, thou mountain-foreigner! Sir John and master
mine,
I combat challenge of this latten bilbo.
Word of denial in thy labras here!
Word of denial! Froth and scum, thou liest.
SLENDER. By these gloves, then, 'twas he.
NYM. Be avis'd, sir, and pass good humours; I will say
'marry trap' with you, if you run the nuthook's humour on
me; that is the very note of it.
SLENDER. By this hat, then, he in the red face had it; for
though I cannot remember what I did when you made me
drunk, yet I am not altogether an ass.
FALSTAFF. What say you, Scarlet and John?
BARDOLPH. Why, sir, for my part, I say the gentleman had
drunk himself out of his five sentences.
EVANS. It is his five senses; fie, what the ignorance is!
BARDOLPH. And being fap, sir, was, as they say, cashier'd;
and so conclusions pass'd the careers.
SLENDER. Ay, you spake in Latin then too; but 'tis no matter;
I'll ne'er be drunk whilst I live again, but in honest,
civil, godly company, for this trick. If I be drunk, I'll be
drunk with those that have the fear of God, and not with
drunken knaves.
EVANS. So Got udge me, that is a virtuous mind.
FALSTAFF. You hear all these matters deni'd, gentlemen; you
hear it.
Enter MISTRESS ANNE PAGE with wine; MISTRESS
FORD and MISTRESS PAGE, following
PAGE. Nay, daughter, carry the wine in; we'll drink within.
Exit ANNE PAGE
SLENDER. O heaven! this is Mistress Anne Page.
PAGE. How now, Mistress Ford!
FALSTAFF. Mistress Ford, by my troth, you are very well
met; by your leave, good mistress. [Kisses her]
PAGE. Wife, bid these gentlemen welcome. Come, we have a
hot venison pasty to dinner; come, gentlemen, I hope we
shall drink down all unkindness.
Exeunt all but SHALLOW, SLENDER, and EVANS
SLENDER. I had rather than forty shillings I had my Book of
Songs and Sonnets here.
Enter SIMPLE
How, Simple! Where have you been? I must wait on
myself, must I? You have not the Book of Riddles about you,
have you?
SIMPLE. Book of Riddles! Why, did you not lend it to Alice
Shortcake upon Allhallowmas last, a fortnight afore
Michaelmas?
SHALLOW. Come, coz; come, coz; we stay for you. A word
with you, coz; marry, this, coz: there is, as 'twere, a
tender, a kind of tender, made afar off by Sir Hugh here. Do
you understand me?
SLENDER. Ay, sir, you shall find me reasonable; if it be so, I
shall do that that is reason.
SHALLOW. Nay, but understand me.
SLENDER. So I do, sir.
EVANS. Give ear to his motions: Master Slender, I will
description the matter to you, if you be capacity of it.
SLENDER. Nay, I will do as my cousin Shallow says; I pray
you pardon me; he's a justice of peace in his country,
simple though I stand here.
EVANS. But that is not the question. The question is
concerning your marriage.
SHALLOW. Ay, there's the point, sir.
EVANS. Marry is it; the very point of it; to Mistress Anne
Page.
SLENDER. Why, if it be so, I will marry her upon any
reasonable demands.
EVANS. But can you affection the oman? Let us command to
know that of your mouth or of your lips; for divers philosophers
hold that the lips is parcel of the mouth. Therefore,
precisely, can you carry your good will to the maid?
SHALLOW. Cousin Abraham Slender, can you love her?
SLENDER. I hope, sir, I will do as it shall become one that
would do reason.
EVANS. Nay, Got's lords and his ladies! you must speak possitable,
if you can carry her your desires towards her.
SHALLOW. That you must. Will you, upon good dowry,
marry her?
SLENDER. I will do a greater thing than that upon your request,
cousin, in any reason.
SHALLOW. Nay, conceive me, conceive me, sweet coz; what
I do is to pleasure you, coz. Can you love the maid?
SLENDER. I will marry her, sir, at your request; but if there
be no great love in the beginning, yet heaven may decrease
it upon better acquaintance, when we are married and
have more occasion to know one another. I hope upon
familiarity will grow more contempt. But if you say
'marry her,' I will marry her; that I am freely dissolved,
and dissolutely.
EVANS. It is a fery discretion answer, save the fall is in the
ord 'dissolutely': the ort is, according to our meaning,
'resolutely'; his meaning is good.
SHALLOW. Ay, I think my cousin meant well.
SLENDER. Ay, or else I would I might be hang'd, la!
Re-enter ANNE PAGE
SHALLOW. Here comes fair Mistress Anne. Would I were
young for your sake, Mistress Anne!
ANNE. The dinner is on the table; my father desires your
worships' company.
SHALLOW. I will wait on him, fair Mistress Anne!
EVANS. Od's plessed will! I will not be absence at the grace.
Exeunt SHALLOW and EVANS
ANNE. Will't please your worship to come in, sir?
SLENDER. No, I thank you, forsooth, heartily; I am very
well.
ANNE. The dinner attends you, sir.
SLENDER. I am not a-hungry, I thank you, forsooth. Go,
sirrah, for all you are my man, go wait upon my cousin
Shallow. [Exit SIMPLE] A justice of peace sometime may
be beholding to his friend for a man. I keep but three men
and a boy yet, till my mother be dead. But what though?
Yet I live like a poor gentleman born.
ANNE. I may not go in without your worship; they will not
sit till you come.
SLENDER. I' faith, I'll eat nothing; I thank you as much as
though I did.
ANNE. I pray you, sir, walk in.
SLENDER. I had rather walk here, I thank you. I bruis'd my
shin th' other day with playing at sword and dagger with
a master of fence-three veneys for a dish of stew'd prunes
-and, I with my ward defending my head, he hot my shin,
and, by my troth, I cannot abide the smell of hot meat
since. Why do your dogs bark so? Be there bears i' th'
town?
ANNE. I think there are, sir; I heard them talk'd of.
SLENDER. I love the sport well; but I shall as soon quarrel at
it as any man in England. You are afraid, if you see the
bear loose, are you not?
ANNE. Ay, indeed, sir.
SLENDER. That's meat and drink to me now. I have seen
Sackerson loose twenty times, and have taken him by the
chain; but I warrant you, the women have so cried and
shriek'd at it that it pass'd; but women, indeed, cannot
abide 'em; they are very ill-favour'd rough things.
Re-enter PAGE
PAGE. Come, gentle Master Slender, come; we stay for you.
SLENDER. I'll eat nothing, I thank you, sir.
PAGE. By cock and pie, you shall not choose, sir! Come,
come.
SLENDER. Nay, pray you lead the way.
PAGE. Come on, sir.
SLENDER. Mistress Anne, yourself shall go first.
ANNE. Not I, sir; pray you keep on.
SLENDER. Truly, I will not go first; truly, la! I will not do
you that wrong.
ANNE. I pray you, sir.
SLENDER. I'll rather be unmannerly than troublesome. You
do yourself wrong indeed, la! Exeunt
SCENE 2.
Before PAGE'S house
Enter SIR HUGH EVANS and SIMPLE
EVANS. Go your ways, and ask of Doctor Caius' house which
is the way; and there dwells one Mistress Quickly, which
is in the manner of his nurse, or his dry nurse, or his cook,
or his laundry, his washer, and his wringer.
SIMPLE. Well, sir.
EVANS. Nay, it is petter yet. Give her this letter; for it is a
oman that altogether's acquaintance with Mistress Anne
Page; and the letter is to desire and require her to solicit
your master's desires to Mistress Anne Page. I pray you
be gone. I will make an end of my dinner; there's pippins
and cheese to come. Exeunt
SCENE 3.
The Garter Inn
Enter FALSTAFF, HOST, BARDOLPH, NYM, PISTOL, and ROBIN
FALSTAFF. Mine host of the Garter!
HOST. What says my bully rook? Speak scholarly and
wisely.
FALSTAFF. Truly, mine host, I must turn away some of my
followers.
HOST. Discard, bully Hercules; cashier; let them wag; trot,
trot.
FALSTAFF. I sit at ten pounds a week.
HOST. Thou'rt an emperor-Caesar, Keiser, and Pheazar. I
will entertain Bardolph; he shall draw, he shall tap; said I
well, bully Hector?
FALSTAFF. Do so, good mine host.
HOST. I have spoke; let him follow. [To BARDOLPH] Let me
see thee froth and lime. I am at a word; follow. Exit HOST
FALSTAFF. Bardolph, follow him. A tapster is a good trade;
an old cloak makes a new jerkin; a wither'd serving-man a
fresh tapster. Go; adieu.
BARDOLPH. It is a life that I have desir'd; I will thrive.
PISTOL. O base Hungarian wight! Wilt thou the spigot
wield? Exit BARDOLPH
NYM. He was gotten in drink. Is not the humour conceited?
FALSTAFF. I am glad I am so acquit of this tinder-box: his
thefts were too open; his filching was like an unskilful
singer-he kept not time.
NYM. The good humour is to steal at a minute's rest.
PISTOL. 'Convey' the wise it call. 'Steal' foh! A fico for the
phrase!
FALSTAFF. Well, sirs, I am almost out at heels.
PISTOL. Why, then, let kibes ensue.
FALSTAFF. There is no remedy; I must cony-catch; I must
shift.
PISTOL. Young ravens must have food.
FALSTAFF. Which of you know Ford of this town?
PISTOL. I ken the wight; he is of substance good.
FALSTAFF. My honest lads, I will tell you what I am about.
PISTOL. Two yards, and more.
FALSTAFF. No quips now, Pistol. Indeed, I am in the waist
two yards about; but I am now about no waste; I am about
thrift. Briefly, I do mean to make love to Ford's wife; I
spy entertainment in her; she discourses, she carves, she
gives the leer of invitation; I can construe the action of her
familiar style; and the hardest voice of her behaviour, to be
English'd rightly, is 'I am Sir John Falstaff's.'
PISTOL. He hath studied her well, and translated her will out
of honesty into English.
NYM. The anchor is deep; will that humour pass?
FALSTAFF. Now, the report goes she has all the rule of her
husband's purse; he hath a legion of angels.
PISTOL. As many devils entertain; and 'To her, boy,' say I.
NYM. The humour rises; it is good; humour me the angels.
FALSTAFF. I have writ me here a letter to her; and here
another to Page's wife, who even now gave me good eyes
too, examin'd my parts with most judicious oeillades;
sometimes the beam of her view gilded my foot, sometimes my
portly belly.
PISTOL. Then did the sun on dunghill shine.
NYM. I thank thee for that humour.
FALSTAFF. O, she did so course o'er my exteriors with such
a greedy intention that the appetite of her eye did seem to
scorch me up like a burning-glass! Here's another letter to
her. She bears the purse too; she is a region in Guiana, all
gold and bounty. I will be cheaters to them both, and they
shall be exchequers to me; they shall be my East and West
Indies, and I will trade to them both. Go, bear thou this
letter to Mistress Page; and thou this to Mistress Ford. We
will thrive, lads, we will thrive.
PISTOL. Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become,
And by my side wear steel? Then Lucifer take all!
NYM. I will run no base humour. Here, take the
humour-letter; I will keep the haviour of reputation.
FALSTAFF. [To ROBIN] Hold, sirrah; bear you these letters
tightly;
Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores.
Rogues, hence, avaunt! vanish like hailstones, go;
Trudge, plod away i' th' hoof; seek shelter, pack!
Falstaff will learn the humour of the age;
French thrift, you rogues; myself, and skirted page.
Exeunt FALSTAFF and ROBIN
PISTOL. Let vultures gripe thy guts! for gourd and fullam
holds,
And high and low beguiles the rich and poor;
Tester I'll have in pouch when thou shalt lack,
Base Phrygian Turk!
NYM. I have operations in my head which be humours of
revenge.
PISTOL. Wilt thou revenge?
NYM. By welkin and her star!
PISTOL. With wit or steel?
NYM. With both the humours, I.
I will discuss the humour of this love to Page.
PISTOL. And I to Ford shall eke unfold
How Falstaff, varlet vile,
His dove will prove, his gold will hold,
And his soft couch defile.
NYM. My humour shall not cool; I will incense Page to deal
with poison; I will possess him with yellowness; for the
revolt of mine is dangerous. That is my true humour.
PISTOL. Thou art the Mars of malcontents; I second thee;
troop on. Exeunt
SCENE 4.
DOCTOR CAIUS'S house
Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY, SIMPLE, and RUGBY
QUICKLY. What, John Rugby! I pray thee go to the casement
and see if you can see my master, Master Doctor
Caius, coming. If he do, i' faith, and find anybody in the
house, here will be an old abusing of God's patience and
the King's English.
RUGBY. I'll go watch.
QUICKLY. Go; and we'll have a posset for't soon at night, in
faith, at the latter end of a sea-coal fire. [Exit RUGBY] An
honest, willing, kind fellow, as ever servant shall come in
house withal; and, I warrant you, no tell-tale nor no
breed-bate; his worst fault is that he is given to prayer; he is
something peevish that way; but nobody but has his fault;
but let that pass. Peter Simple you say your name is?
SIMPLE. Ay, for fault of a better.
QUICKLY. And Master Slender's your master?
SIMPLE. Ay, forsooth.
QUICKLY. Does he not wear a great round beard, like a
glover's paring-knife?
SIMPLE. No, forsooth; he hath but a little whey face, with a
little yellow beard, a Cain-colour'd beard.
QUICKLY. A softly-sprighted man, is he not?
SIMPLE. Ay, forsooth; but he is as tall a man of his hands as
any is between this and his head; he hath fought with a
warrener.
QUICKLY. How say you? O, I should remember him. Does
he not hold up his head, as it were, and strut in his gait?
SIMPLE. Yes, indeed, does he.
QUICKLY. Well, heaven send Anne Page no worse fortune!
Tell Master Parson Evans I will do what I can for your
master. Anne is a good girl, and I wish-
Re-enter RUGBY
RUGBY. Out, alas! here comes my master.
QUICKLY. We shall all be shent. Run in here, good young
man; go into this closet. [Shuts SIMPLE in the closet] He
will not stay long. What, John Rugby! John! what, John,
I say! Go, John, go inquire for my master; I doubt he be
not well that he comes not home. [Singing]
And down, down, adown-a, etc.
Enter DOCTOR CAIUS
CAIUS. Vat is you sing? I do not like des toys. Pray you, go
and vetch me in my closet un boitier vert-a box, a green-a
box. Do intend vat I speak? A green-a box.
QUICKLY. Ay, forsooth, I'll fetch it you. [Aside] I am glad
he went not in himself; if he had found the young man,
he would have been horn-mad.
CAIUS. Fe, fe, fe fe! ma foi, il fait fort chaud. Je m'en vais a
la cour-la grande affaire.
QUICKLY. Is it this, sir?
CAIUS. Oui; mette le au mon pocket: depeche, quickly. Vere
is dat knave, Rugby?
QUICKLY. What, John Rugby? John!
RUGBY. Here, sir.
CAIUS. You are John Rugby, and you are Jack Rugby.
Come, take-a your rapier, and come after my heel to the
court.
RUGBY. 'Tis ready, sir, here in the porch.
CAIUS. By my trot, I tarry too long. Od's me! Qu'ai j'oublie?
Dere is some simples in my closet dat I vill not for the
varld I shall leave behind.
QUICKLY. Ay me, he'll find the young man there, and be
mad!
CAIUS. O diable, diable! vat is in my closet? Villainy! larron!
[Pulling SIMPLE out] Rugby, my rapier!
QUICKLY. Good master, be content.
CAIUS. Wherefore shall I be content-a?
QUICKLY. The young man is an honest man.
CAIUS. What shall de honest man do in my closet? Dere is
no honest man dat shall come in my closet.
QUICKLY. I beseech you, be not so phlegmatic; hear the
truth of it. He came of an errand to me from Parson Hugh.
CAIUS. Vell?
SIMPLE. Ay, forsooth, to desire her to-
QUICKLY. Peace, I pray you.
CAIUS. Peace-a your tongue. Speak-a your tale.
SIMPLE. To desire this honest gentlewoman, your maid, to
speak a good word to Mistress Anne Page for my master,
in the way of marriage.
QUICKLY. This is all, indeed, la! but I'll ne'er put my finger
in the fire, and need not.
CAIUS. Sir Hugh send-a you? Rugby, baillez me some paper.
Tarry you a little-a-while. [Writes]
QUICKLY. [Aside to SIMPLE] I am glad he is so quiet; if he
had been throughly moved, you should have heard him
so loud and so melancholy. But notwithstanding, man, I'll
do you your master what good I can; and the very yea and
the no is, the French doctor, my master-I may call him
my master, look you, for I keep his house; and I wash,
wring, brew, bake, scour, dress meat and drink, make the
beds, and do all myself-
SIMPLE. [Aside to QUICKLY] 'Tis a great charge to come
under one body's hand.
QUICKLY. [Aside to SIMPLE] Are you avis'd o' that? You
shall find it a great charge; and to be up early and down
late; but notwithstanding-to tell you in your ear, I would
have no words of it-my master himself is in love with
Mistress Anne Page; but notwithstanding that, I know
Anne's mind-that's neither here nor there.
CAIUS. You jack'nape; give-a this letter to Sir Hugh; by gar,
it is a shallenge; I will cut his troat in de park; and I will
teach a scurvy jack-a-nape priest to meddle or make. You
may be gone; it is not good you tarry here. By gar, I will
cut all his two stones; by gar, he shall not have a stone
to throw at his dog. Exit SIMPLE
QUICKLY. Alas, he speaks but for his friend.
CAIUS. It is no matter-a ver dat. Do not you tell-a me dat I
shall have Anne Page for myself? By gar, I vill kill de Jack
priest; and I have appointed mine host of de Jarteer to
measure our weapon. By gar, I will myself have Anne
Page.
QUICKLY. Sir, the maid loves you, and all shall be well. We
must give folks leave to prate. What the good-year!
CAIUS. Rugby, come to the court with me. By gar, if I have
not Anne Page, I shall turn your head out of my door.
Follow my heels, Rugby. Exeunt CAIUS and RUGBY
QUICKLY. You shall have-An fool's-head of your own. No,
I know Anne's mind for that; never a woman in Windsor
knows more of Anne's mind than I do; nor can do more
than I do with her, I thank heaven.
FENTON. [Within] Who's within there? ho!
QUICKLY. Who's there, I trow? Come near the house, I pray
you.
Enter FENTON
FENTON. How now, good woman, how dost thou?
QUICKLY. The better that it pleases your good worship to
ask.
FENTON. What news? How does pretty Mistress Anne?
QUICKLY. In truth, sir, and she is pretty, and honest, and
gentle; and one that is your friend, I can tell you that by
the way; I praise heaven for it.
FENTON. Shall I do any good, think'st thou? Shall I not lose
my suit?
QUICKLY. Troth, sir, all is in His hands above; but
notwithstanding, Master Fenton, I'll be sworn on a book
she loves you. Have not your worship a wart above your eye?
FENTON. Yes, marry, have I; what of that?
QUICKLY. Well, thereby hangs a tale; good faith, it is such
another Nan; but, I detest, an honest maid as ever broke
bread. We had an hour's talk of that wart; I shall never
laugh but in that maid's company! But, indeed, she is
given too much to allicholy and musing; but for you-well,
go to.
FENTON. Well, I shall see her to-day. Hold, there's money
for thee; let me have thy voice in my behalf. If thou seest
her before me, commend me.
QUICKLY. Will I? I' faith, that we will; and I will tell your
worship more of the wart the next time we have confidence;
and of other wooers.
FENTON. Well, farewell; I am in great haste now.
QUICKLY. Farewell to your worship. [Exit FENTON] Truly,
an honest gentleman; but Anne loves him not; for I know
Anne's mind as well as another does. Out upon 't, what
have I forgot? Exit
<>
ACT II. SCENE 1.
Before PAGE'S house
Enter MISTRESS PAGE, with a letter
MRS. PAGE. What! have I scap'd love-letters in the holiday-time
of my beauty, and am I now a subject for them? Let
me see. [Reads]
'Ask me no reason why I love you; for though Love use
Reason for his precisian, he admits him not for his counsellor.
You are not young, no more am I; go to, then, there's
sympathy. You are merry, so am I; ha! ha! then there's
more sympathy. You love sack, and so do I; would you
desire better sympathy? Let it suffice thee, Mistress Page
at the least, if the love of soldier can suffice-that I love
thee. I will not say, Pity me: 'tis not a soldier-like phrase;
but I say, Love me. By me,
Thine own true knight,
By day or night,
Or any kind of light,
With all his might,
For thee to fight,
JOHN FALSTAFF.'
What a Herod of Jewry is this! O wicked, wicked world!
One that is well-nigh worn to pieces with age to show
himself a young gallant! What an unweighed behaviour
hath this Flemish drunkard pick'd-with the devil's name!
-out of my conversation, that he dares in this manner
assay me? Why, he hath not been thrice in my company!
What should I say to him? I was then frugal of my mirth.
Heaven forgive me! Why, I'll exhibit a bill in the parliament
for the putting down of men. How shall I be
reveng'd on him? for reveng'd I will be, as sure as his guts
are made of puddings.
Enter MISTRESS FORD
MRS. FORD. Mistress Page! trust me, I was going to your
house.
MRS. PAGE. And, trust me, I was coming to you. You look
very ill.
MRS. FORD. Nay, I'll ne'er believe that; I have to show to
the contrary.
MRS. PAGE. Faith, but you do, in my mind.
MRS. FORD. Well, I do, then; yet, I say, I could show you to
the contrary. O Mistress Page, give me some counsel.
MRS. PAGE. What's the matter, woman?
MRS. FORD. O woman, if it were not for one trifling respect,
I could come to such honour!
MRS. PAGE. Hang the trifle, woman; take the honour. What
is it? Dispense with trifles; what is it?
MRS. FORD. If I would but go to hell for an eternal moment
or so, I could be knighted.
MRS. PAGE. What? Thou liest. Sir Alice Ford! These knights
will hack; and so thou shouldst not alter the article of thy
gentry.
MRS. FORD. We burn daylight. Here, read, read; perceive
how I might be knighted. I shall think the worse of fat
men as long as I have an eye to make difference of men's
liking. And yet he would not swear; prais'd women's
modesty, and gave such orderly and well-behaved reproof
to all uncomeliness that I would have sworn his disposition
would have gone to the truth of his words; but they do no
more adhere and keep place together than the Hundredth
Psalm to the tune of 'Greensleeves.' What tempest, I trow,
threw this whale, with so many tuns of oil in his belly,
ashore at Windsor? How shall I be revenged on him? I
think the best way were to entertain him with hope, till
the wicked fire of lust have melted him in his own grease.
Did you ever hear the like?
MRS. PAGE. Letter for letter, but that the name of Page and
Ford differs. To thy great comfort in this mystery of ill
opinions, here's the twin-brother of thy letter; but let thine
inherit first, for, I protest, mine never shall. I warrant he
hath a thousand of these letters, writ with blank space for
different names-sure, more!-and these are of the second
edition. He will print them, out of doubt; for he cares not
what he puts into the press when he would put us two. I
had rather be a giantess and lie under Mount Pelion. Well,
I will find you twenty lascivious turtles ere one chaste
man.
MRS. FORD. Why, this is the very same; the very hand, the
very words. What doth he think of us?
MRS. PAGE. Nay, I know not; it makes me almost ready to
wrangle with mine own honesty. I'll entertain myself like
one that I am not acquainted withal; for, sure, unless he
know some strain in me that I know not myself, he would
never have boarded me in this fury.
MRS. FORD. 'Boarding' call you it? I'll be sure to keep him
above deck.
MRS. PAGE. So will I; if he come under my hatches, I'll never
to sea again. Let's be reveng'd on him; let's appoint him a
meeting, give him a show of comfort in his suit, and lead
him on with a fine-baited delay, till he hath pawn'd his
horses to mine host of the Garter.
MRS. FORD. Nay, I will consent to act any villainy against
him that may not sully the chariness of our honesty. O
that my husband saw this letter! It would give eternal food
to his jealousy.
MRS. PAGE. Why, look where he comes; and my good man
too; he's as far from jealousy as I am from giving him
cause; and that, I hope, is an unmeasurable distance.
MRS. FORD. You are the happier woman.
MRS. PAGE. Let's consult together against this greasy knight.
Come hither. [They retire]
Enter FORD with PISTOL, and PAGE with Nym
FORD. Well, I hope it be not so.
PISTOL. Hope is a curtal dog in some affairs.
Sir John affects thy wife.
FORD. Why, sir, my wife is not young.
PISTOL. He woos both high and low, both rich and poor,
Both young and old, one with another, Ford;
He loves the gallimaufry. Ford, perpend.
FORD. Love my wife!
PISTOL. With liver burning hot. Prevent, or go thou,
Like Sir Actaeon he, with Ringwood at thy heels.
O, odious is the name!
FORD. What name, sir?
PISTOL. The horn, I say. Farewell.
Take heed, have open eye, for thieves do foot by night;
Take heed, ere summer comes, or cuckoo birds do sing.
Away, Sir Corporal Nym.
Believe it, Page; he speaks sense. Exit PISTOL
FORD. [Aside] I will be patient; I will find out this.
NYM. [To PAGE] And this is true; I like not the humour of
lying. He hath wronged me in some humours; I should
have borne the humour'd letter to her; but I have a sword,
and it shall bite upon my necessity. He loves your wife;
there's the short and the long.
My name is Corporal Nym; I speak, and I avouch;
'Tis true. My name is Nym, and Falstaff loves your wife.
Adieu! I love not the humour of bread and cheese; and
there's the humour of it. Adieu. Exit Nym
PAGE. 'The humour of it,' quoth 'a! Here's a fellow frights
English out of his wits.
FORD. I will seek out Falstaff.
PAGE. I never heard such a drawling, affecting rogue.
FORD. If I do find it-well.
PAGE. I will not believe such a Cataian though the priest o'
th' town commended him for a true man.
FORD. 'Twas a good sensible fellow. Well.
MISTRESS PAGE and MISTRESS FORD come forward
PAGE. How now, Meg!
MRS. PAGE. Whither go you, George? Hark you.
MRS. FORD. How now, sweet Frank, why art thou melancholy?
FORD. I melancholy! I am not melancholy. Get you home;
go.
MRS. FORD. Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy head now.
Will you go, Mistress Page?
Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY
MRS. PAGE. Have with you. You'll come to dinner, George?
[Aside to MRS. FORD] Look who comes yonder; she shall
be our messenger to this paltry knight.
MRS. FORD. [Aside to MRS. PAGE] Trust me, I thought on
her; she'll fit it.
MRS. PAGE. You are come to see my daughter Anne?
QUICKLY. Ay, forsooth; and, I pray, how does good Mistress Anne?
MRS. PAGE. Go in with us and see; we have an hour's talk
with you. Exeunt MISTRESS PAGE, MISTRESS FORD, and
MISTRESS QUICKLY
PAGE. How now, Master Ford!
FORD. You heard what this knave told me, did you not?
PAGE. Yes; and you heard what the other told me?
FORD. Do you think there is truth in them?
PAGE. Hang 'em, slaves! I do not think the knight would offer it;
but these that accuse him in his intent towards our
wives are a yoke of his discarded men; very rogues, now
they be out of service.
FORD. Were they his men?
PAGE. Marry, were they.
FORD. I like it never the better for that. Does he lie at the
Garter?
PAGE. Ay, marry, does he. If he should intend this voyage
toward my wife, I would turn her loose to him; and what
he gets more of her than sharp words, let it lie on my head.
FORD. I do not misdoubt my wife; but I would be loath to
turn them together. A man may be too confident. I would
have nothing lie on my head. I cannot be thus satisfied.
Enter HOST
PAGE. Look where my ranting host of the Garter comes.
There is either liquor in his pate or money in his purse
when he looks so merrily. How now, mine host!
HOST. How now, bully rook! Thou'rt a gentleman. [To
SHALLOW following] Cavaleiro Justice, I say.
Enter SHALLOW
SHALLOW. I follow, mine host, I follow. Good even and
twenty, good Master Page! Master Page, will you go with
us? We have sport in hand.
HOST. Tell him, Cavaleiro Justice; tell him, bully rook.
SHALLOW. Sir, there is a fray to be fought between Sir Hugh
the Welsh priest and Caius the French doctor.
FORD. Good mine host o' th' Garter, a word with you.
HOST. What say'st thou, my bully rook? [They go aside]
SHALLOW. [To PAGE] Will you go with us to behold it? My
merry host hath had the measuring of their weapons; and,
I think, hath appointed them contrary places; for, believe
me, I hear the parson is no jester. Hark, I will tell you
what our sport shall be. [They converse apart]
HOST. Hast thou no suit against my knight, my guest-cavaleiro.
FORD. None, I protest; but I'll give you a pottle of burnt
sack to give me recourse to him, and tell him my name is
Brook-only for a jest.
HOST. My hand, bully; thou shalt have egress and regress-
said I well?-and thy name shall be Brook. It is a merry
knight. Will you go, Mynheers?
SHALLOW. Have with you, mine host.
PAGE. I have heard the Frenchman hath good skill in his
rapier.
SHALLOW. Tut, sir, I could have told you more. In these
times you stand on distance, your passes, stoccadoes, and
I know not what. 'Tis the heart, Master Page; 'tis here,
'tis here. I have seen the time with my long sword I would
have made you four tall fellows skip like rats.
HOST. Here, boys, here, here! Shall we wag?
PAGE. Have with you. I had rather hear them scold than
fight. Exeunt all but FORD
FORD. Though Page be a secure fool, and stands so firmly on
his wife's frailty, yet I cannot put off my opinion so
easily. She was in his company at Page's house, and what
they made there I know not. Well, I will look further into
't, and I have a disguise to sound Falstaff. If I find her
honest, I lose not my labour; if she be otherwise, 'tis labour
well bestowed. Exit
SCENE 2.
A room in the Garter Inn
Enter FALSTAFF and PISTOL
FALSTAFF. I will not lend thee a penny.
PISTOL. I will retort the sum in equipage.
FALSTAFF. Not a penny.
PISTOL. Why, then the world's mine oyster. Which I with
sword will open.
FALSTAFF. Not a penny. I have been content, sir, you should
lay my countenance to pawn. I have grated upon my good
friends for three reprieves for you and your coach-fellow,
Nym; or else you had look'd through the grate, like a
geminy of baboons. I am damn'd in hell for swearing to
gentlemen my friends you were good soldiers and tall fellows;
and when Mistress Bridget lost the handle of her fan,
I took 't upon mine honour thou hadst it not.
PISTOL. Didst not thou share? Hadst thou not fifteen pence?
FALSTAFF. Reason, you rogue, reason. Think'st thou I'll
endanger my soul gratis? At a word, hang no more about me,
I am no gibbet for you. Go-a short knife and a throng!-
to your manor of Pickt-hatch; go. You'll not bear a letter
for me, you rogue! You stand upon your honour! Why,
thou unconfinable baseness, it is as much as I can do to
keep the terms of my honour precise. I, I, I myself
sometimes, leaving the fear of God on the left hand, and hiding
mine honour in my necessity, am fain to shuffle, to hedge,
and to lurch; and yet you, rogue, will ensconce your rags,
your cat-a-mountain looks, your red-lattice phrases, and
your bold-beating oaths, under the shelter of your honour!
You will not do it, you!
PISTOL. I do relent; what would thou more of man?
Enter ROBIN
ROBIN. Sir, here's a woman would speak with you.
FALSTAFF. Let her approach.
Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY
QUICKLY. Give your worship good morrow.
FALSTAFF. Good morrow, good wife.
QUICKLY. Not so, an't please your worship.
FALSTAFF. Good maid, then.
QUICKLY. I'll be sworn;
As my mother was, the first hour I was born.
FALSTAFF. I do believe the swearer. What with me?
QUICKLY. Shall I vouchsafe your worship a word or two?
FALSTAFF. Two thousand, fair woman; and I'll vouchsafe
thee the hearing.
QUICKLY. There is one Mistress Ford, sir-I pray, come a little
nearer this ways. I myself dwell with Master Doctor
Caius.
FALSTAFF. Well, on: Mistress Ford, you say-
QUICKLY. Your worship says very true. I pray your worship
come a little nearer this ways.
FALSTAFF. I warrant thee nobody hears-mine own people,
mine own people.
QUICKLY. Are they so? God bless them, and make them his
servants!
FALSTAFF. Well; Mistress Ford, what of her?
QUICKLY. Why, sir, she's a good creature. Lord, Lord, your
worship's a wanton! Well, heaven forgive you, and all of
us, I pray.
FALSTAFF. Mistress Ford; come, Mistress Ford-
QUICKLY. Marry, this is the short and the long of it: you
have brought her into such a canaries as 'tis wonderful.
The best courtier of them all, when the court lay at Windsor,
could never have brought her to such a canary. Yet
there has been knights, and lords, and gentlemen, with
their coaches; I warrant you, coach after coach, letter after
letter, gift after gift; smelling so sweetly, all musk, and so
rushling, I warrant you, in silk and gold; and in such alligant
terms; and in such wine and sugar of the best and the
fairest, that would have won any woman's heart; and I
warrant you, they could never get an eye-wink of her.
I had myself twenty angels given me this morning; but I
defy all angels, in any such sort, as they say, but in the
way of honesty; and, I warrant you, they could never get
her so much as sip on a cup with the proudest of them all;
and yet there has been earls, nay, which is more,
pensioners; but, I warrant you, all is one with her.
FALSTAFF. But what says she to me? Be brief, my good she-
Mercury.
QUICKLY. Marry, she hath receiv'd your letter; for the
which she thanks you a thousand times; and she gives you
to notify that her husband will be absence from his house
between ten and eleven.
FALSTAFF. Ten and eleven?
QUICKLY. Ay, forsooth; and then you may come and see
the picture, she says, that you wot of. Master Ford, her
husband, will be from home. Alas, the sweet woman leads
an ill life with him! He's a very jealousy man; she leads a
very frampold life with him, good heart.
FALSTAFF. Ten and eleven. Woman, commend me to her; I
will not fail her.
QUICKLY. Why, you say well. But I have another messenger
to your worship. Mistress Page hath her hearty commendations
to you too; and let me tell you in your ear, she's as
fartuous a civil modest wife, and one, I tell you, that will
not miss you morning nor evening prayer, as any is in
Windsor, whoe'er be the other; and she bade me tell your
worship that her husband is seldom from home, but she
hopes there will come a time. I never knew a woman so
dote upon a man: surely I think you have charms, la! Yes,
in truth.
FALSTAFF. Not I, I assure thee; setting the attraction of my
good parts aside, I have no other charms.
QUICKLY. Blessing on your heart for 't!
FALSTAFF. But, I pray thee, tell me this: has Ford's wife and
Page's wife acquainted each other how they love me?
QUICKLY. That were a jest indeed! They have not so little
grace, I hope-that were a trick indeed! But Mistress Page
would desire you to send her your little page of all loves.
Her husband has a marvellous infection to the little page;
and truly Master Page is an honest man. Never a wife in
Windsor leads a better life than she does; do what she will,
say what she will, take all, pay all, go to bed when she
list, rise when she list, all is as she will; and truly she
deserves it; for if there be a kind woman in Windsor, she
is one. You must send her your page; no remedy.
FALSTAFF. Why, I will.
QUICKLY. Nay, but do so then; and, look you, he may come
and go between you both; and in any case have a
nay-word, that you may know one another's mind, and the boy
never need to understand any thing; for 'tis not good that
children should know any wickedness. Old folks, you
know, have discretion, as they say, and know the world.
FALSTAFF. Fare thee well; commend me to them both.
There's my purse; I am yet thy debtor. Boy, go along with
this woman. [Exeunt QUICKLY and ROBIN] This news
distracts me.
PISTOL. [Aside] This punk is one of Cupid's carriers;
Clap on more sails; pursue; up with your fights;
Give fire; she is my prize, or ocean whelm them all! Exit
FALSTAFF. Say'st thou so, old Jack; go thy ways; I'll make
more of thy old body than I have done. Will they yet look
after thee? Wilt thou, after the expense of so much money,
be now a gainer? Good body, I thank thee. Let them say
'tis grossly done; so it be fairly done, no matter.
Enter BARDOLPH
BARDOLPH. Sir John, there's one Master Brook below would
fain speak with you, and be acquainted with you; and hath
sent your worship a moming's draught of sack.
FALSTAFF. Brook is his name?
BARDOLPH. Ay, sir.
FALSTAFF. Call him in. [Exit BARDOLPH] Such Brooks are
welcome to me, that o'erflows such liquor. Ah, ha! Mistress
Ford and Mistress Page, have I encompass'd you? Go to;
via!
Re-enter BARDOLPH, with FORD disguised
FORD. Bless you, sir!
FALSTAFF. And you, sir! Would you speak with me?
FORD. I make bold to press with so little preparation upon
you.
FALSTAFF. You're welcome. What's your will? Give us leave,
drawer. Exit BARDOLPH
FORD. Sir, I am a gentleman that have spent much; my name
is Brook.
FALSTAFF. Good Master Brook, I desire more acquaintance
of you.
FORD. Good Sir John, I sue for yours-not to charge you; for I
must let you understand I think myself in better plight for
a lender than you are; the which hath something
embold'ned me to this unseason'd intrusion; for they say, if
money go before, all ways do lie open.
FALSTAFF. Money is a good soldier, sir, and will on.
FORD. Troth, and I have a bag of money here troubles me; if
you will help to bear it, Sir John, take all, or half, for easing
me of the carriage.
FALSTAFF. Sir, I know not how I may deserve to be your
porter.
FORD. I will tell you, sir, if you will give me the hearing.
FALSTAFF. Speak, good Master Brook; I shall be glad to be
your servant.
FORD. Sir, I hear you are a scholar-I will be brief with you
-and you have been a man long known to me, though I
had never so good means as desire to make myself acquainted
with you. I shall discover a thing to you, wherein
I must very much lay open mine own imperfection; but,
good Sir John, as you have one eye upon my follies, as you
hear them unfolded, turn another into the register of your
own, that I may pass with a reproof the easier, sith you
yourself know how easy is it to be such an offender.
FALSTAFF. Very well, sir; proceed.
FORD. There is a gentlewoman in this town, her husband's
name is Ford.
FALSTAFF. Well, sir.
FORD. I have long lov'd her, and, I protest to you, bestowed
much on her; followed her with a doting observance;
engross'd opportunities to meet her; fee'd every slight occasion
that could but niggardly give me sight of her; not
only bought many presents to give her, but have given
largely to many to know what she would have given;
briefly, I have pursu'd her as love hath pursued me; which
hath been on the wing of all occasions. But whatsoever I
have merited, either in my mind or in my means, meed, I
am sure, I have received none, unless experience be a jewel;
that I have purchased at an infinite rate, and that hath
taught me to say this:
'Love like a shadow flies when substance love pursues;
Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues.'
FALSTAFF. Have you receiv'd no promise of satisfaction at
her hands?
FORD. Never.
FALSTAFF. Have you importun'd her to such a purpose?
FORD. Never.
FALSTAFF. Of what quality was your love, then?
FORD. Like a fair house built on another man's ground; so
that I have lost my edifice by mistaking the place where
erected it.
FALSTAFF. To what purpose have you unfolded this to me?
FORD. When I have told you that, I have told you all. Some
say that though she appear honest to me, yet in other
places she enlargeth her mirth so far that there is shrewd
construction made of her. Now, Sir John, here is the heart
of my purpose: you are a gentleman of excellent
breeding, admirable discourse, of great admittance, authentic in
your place and person, generally allow'd for your many
war-like, courtlike, and learned preparations.
FALSTAFF. O, sir!
FORD. Believe it, for you know it. There is money; spend it,
spend it; spend more; spend all I have; only give me so
much of your time in exchange of it as to lay an amiable
siege to the honesty of this Ford's wife; use your art of
wooing, win her to consent to you; if any man may, you
may as soon as any.
FALSTAFF. Would it apply well to the vehemency of your
affection, that I should win what you would enjoy?
Methinks you prescribe to yourself very preposterously.
FORD. O, understand my drift. She dwells so securely on the
excellency of her honour that the folly of my soul dares
not present itself; she is too bright to be look'd against.
Now, could I come to her with any detection in my hand,
my desires had instance and argument to commend themselves;
I could drive her then from the ward of her purity,
her reputation, her marriage vow, and a thousand other her
defences, which now are too too strongly embattl'd against
me. What say you to't, Sir John?
FALSTAFF. Master Brook, I will first make bold with your
money; next, give me your hand; and last, as I am a gentleman,
you shall, if you will, enjoy Ford's wife.
FORD. O good sir!
FALSTAFF. I say you shall.
FORD. Want no money, Sir John; you shall want none.
FALSTAFF. Want no Mistress Ford, Master Brook; you shall
want none. I shall be with her, I may tell you, by her own
appointment; even as you came in to me her assistant, or
go-between, parted from me; I say I shall be with her between
ten and eleven; for at that time the jealous rascally
knave, her husband, will be forth. Come you to me at
night; you shall know how I speed.
FORD. I am blest in your acquaintance. Do you know Ford,
Sir?
FALSTAFF. Hang him, poor cuckoldly knave! I know him
not; yet I wrong him to call him poor; they say the
jealous wittolly knave hath masses of money; for the which
his wife seems to me well-favour'd. I will use her as the
key of the cuckoldly rogue's coffer; and there's my harvest-home.
FORD. I would you knew Ford, sir, that you might avoid him
if you saw him.
FALSTAFF. Hang him, mechanical salt-butter rogue! I will
stare him out of his wits; I will awe him with my cudgel;
it shall hang like a meteor o'er the cuckold's horns. Master
Brook, thou shalt know I will predominate over the
peasant, and thou shalt lie with his wife. Come to me soon at
night. Ford's a knave, and I will aggravate his style; thou,
Master Brook, shalt know him for knave and cuckold.
Come to me soon at night. Exit
FORD. What a damn'd Epicurean rascal is this! My heart is
ready to crack with impatience. Who says this is improvident
jealousy? My wife hath sent to him; the hour is fix'd;
the match is made. Would any man have thought this? See
the hell of having a false woman! My bed shall be abus'd,
my coffers ransack'd, my reputation gnawn at; and I shall
not only receive this villainous wrong, but stand under the
adoption of abominable terms, and by him that does me
this wrong. Terms! names! Amaimon sounds well; Lucifer,
well; Barbason, well; yet they are devils' additions, the names
of fiends. But cuckold! Wittol! Cuckold! the devil himself
hath not such a name. Page is an ass, a secure ass; he will trust
his wife; he will not be jealous; I will rather trust a Fleming
with my butter, Parson Hugh the Welshman with my
cheese, an Irishman with my aqua-vitae bottle, or a thief to
walk my ambling gelding, than my wife with herself. Then
she plots, then she ruminates, then she devises; and what
they think in their hearts they may effect, they will break
their hearts but they will effect. God be prais'd for my
jealousy! Eleven o'clock the hour. I will prevent this, detect
my wife, be reveng'd on Falstaff, and laugh at Page.
I will about it; better three hours too soon than a minute
too late. Fie, fie, fie! cuckold! cuckold! cuckold! Exit
SCENE 3.
A field near Windsor
Enter CAIUS and RUGBY
CAIUS. Jack Rugby!
RUGBY. Sir?
CAIUS. Vat is de clock, Jack?
RUGBY. 'Tis past the hour, sir, that Sir Hugh promis'd to
meet.
CAIUS. By gar, he has save his soul dat he is no come; he has
pray his Pible well dat he is no come; by gar, Jack Rugby,
he is dead already, if he be come.
RUGBY. He is wise, sir; he knew your worship would kill
him if he came.
CAIUS. By gar, de herring is no dead so as I vill kill him. Take
your rapier, Jack; I vill tell you how I vill kill him.
RUGBY. Alas, sir, I cannot fence!
CAIUS. Villainy, take your rapier.
RUGBY. Forbear; here's company.
Enter HOST, SHALLOW, SLENDER, and PAGE
HOST. Bless thee, bully doctor!
SHALLOW. Save you, Master Doctor Caius!
PAGE. Now, good Master Doctor!
SLENDER. Give you good morrow, sir.
CAIUS. Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come for?
HOST. To see thee fight, to see thee foin, to see thee traverse;
to see thee here, to see thee there; to see thee pass thy
punto, thy stock, thy reverse, thy distance, thy montant.
Is he dead, my Ethiopian? Is he dead, my Francisco? Ha,
bully! What says my Aesculapius? my Galen? my heart
of elder? Ha! is he dead, bully stale? Is he dead?
CAIUS. By gar, he is de coward Jack priest of de world; he is
not show his face.
HOST. Thou art a Castalion-King-Urinal. Hector of Greece,
my boy!
CAIUS. I pray you, bear witness that me have stay six or
seven, two tree hours for him, and he is no come.
SHALLOW. He is the wiser man, Master Doctor: he is a curer
of souls, and you a curer of bodies; if you should fight,
you go against the hair of your professions. Is it not true,
Master Page?
PAGE. Master Shallow, you have yourself been a great fighter,
though now a man of peace.
SHALLOW. Bodykins, Master Page, though I now be old, and
of the peace, if I see a sword out, my finger itches to make
one. Though we are justices, and doctors, and churchmen,
Master Page, we have some salt of our youth in us; we are
the sons of women, Master Page.
PAGE. 'Tis true, Master Shallow.
SHALLOW. It will be found so, Master Page. Master Doctor
CAIUS, I come to fetch you home. I am sworn of the peace;
you have show'd yourself a wise physician, and Sir Hugh
hath shown himself a wise and patient churchman. You
must go with me, Master Doctor.
HOST. Pardon, Guest Justice. A word, Mounseur Mockwater.
CAIUS. Mock-vater! Vat is dat?
HOST. Mockwater, in our English tongue, is valour, bully.
CAIUS. By gar, then I have as much mockvater as de Englishman.
Scurvy jack-dog priest! By gar, me vill cut his ears.
HOST. He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully.
CAIUS. Clapper-de-claw! Vat is dat?
HOST. That is, he will make thee amends.
CAIUS. By gar, me do look he shall clapper-de-claw me; for,
by gar, me vill have it.
HOST. And I will provoke him to't, or let him wag.
CAIUS. Me tank you for dat.
HOST. And, moreover, bully-but first: [Aside to the others]
Master Guest, and Master Page, and eke Cavaleiro Slender,
go you through the town to Frogmore.
PAGE. [Aside] Sir Hugh is there, is he?
HOST. [Aside] He is there. See what humour he is in; and
I will bring the doctor about by the fields. Will it do well?
SHALLOW. [Aside] We will do it.
PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER. Adieu, good Master Doctor.
Exeunt PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER
CAIUS. By gar, me vill kill de priest; for he speak for a jack-
an-ape to Anne Page.
HOST. Let him die. Sheathe thy impatience; throw cold water
on thy choler; go about the fields with me through Frogmore;
I will bring thee where Mistress Anne Page is, at a a
farm-house, a-feasting; and thou shalt woo her. Cried
game! Said I well?
CAIUS. By gar, me dank you vor dat; by gar, I love you; and
I shall procure-a you de good guest, de earl, de knight, de
lords, de gentlemen, my patients.
HOST. For the which I will be thy adversary toward Anne
Page. Said I well?
CAIUS. By gar, 'tis good; vell said.
HOST. Let us wag, then.
CAIUS. Come at my heels, Jack Rugby. Exeunt
<>
ACT III SCENE 1.
A field near Frogmore
Enter SIR HUGH EVANS and SIMPLE
EVANS. I pray you now, good Master Slender's serving-man,
and friend Simple by your name, which way have you
look'd for Master Caius, that calls himself Doctor of
Physic?
SIMPLE. Marry, sir, the pittie-ward, the park-ward; every
way; old Windsor way, and every way but the town way.
EVANS. I most fehemently desire you you will also look that
way.
SIMPLE. I will, Sir. Exit
EVANS. Pless my soul, how full of chollors I am, and trempling
of mind! I shall be glad if he have deceived me. How
melancholies I am! I will knog his urinals about his knave's
costard when I have goot opportunities for the ork. Pless
my soul! [Sings]
To shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sings madrigals;
There will we make our peds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies.
To shallow-
Mercy on me! I have a great dispositions to cry. [Sings]
Melodious birds sing madrigals-
Whenas I sat in Pabylon-
And a thousand vagram posies.
To shallow, etc.
Re-enter SIMPLE
SIMPLE. Yonder he is, coming this way, Sir Hugh.
EVANS. He's welcome. [Sings]
To shallow rivers, to whose falls-
Heaven prosper the right! What weapons is he?
SIMPLE. No weapons, sir. There comes my master, Master
Shallow, and another gentleman, from Frogmore, over the
stile, this way.
EVANS. Pray you give me my gown; or else keep it in your
arms. [Takes out a book]
Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER
SHALLOW. How now, Master Parson! Good morrow, good
Sir Hugh. Keep a gamester from the dice, and a good student
from his book, and it is wonderful.
SLENDER. [Aside] Ah, sweet Anne Page!
PAGE. Save you, good Sir Hugh!
EVANS. Pless you from his mercy sake, all of you!
SHALLOW. What, the sword and the word! Do you study
them both, Master Parson?
PAGE. And youthful still, in your doublet and hose, this raw
rheumatic day!
EVANS. There is reasons and causes for it.
PAGE. We are come to you to do a good office, Master
Parson.
EVANS. Fery well; what is it?
PAGE. Yonder is a most reverend gentleman, who, belike having
received wrong by some person, is at most odds with
his own gravity and patience that ever you saw.
SHALLOW. I have lived fourscore years and upward; I never
heard a man of his place, gravity, and learning, so wide of
his own respect.
EVANS. What is he?
PAGE. I think you know him: Master Doctor Caius, the
renowned French physician.
EVANS. Got's will and his passion of my heart! I had as lief
you would tell me of a mess of porridge.
PAGE. Why?
EVANS. He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and
Galen, and he is a knave besides-a cowardly knave as you
would desires to be acquainted withal.
PAGE. I warrant you, he's the man should fight with him.
SLENDER. [Aside] O sweet Anne Page!
SHALLOW. It appears so, by his weapons. Keep them asunder;
here comes Doctor Caius.
Enter HOST, CAIUS, and RUGBY
PAGE. Nay, good Master Parson, keep in your weapon.
SHALLOW. So do you, good Master Doctor.
HOST. Disarm them, and let them question; let them keep
their limbs whole and hack our English.
CAIUS. I pray you, let-a me speak a word with your ear.
Verefore will you not meet-a me?
EVANS. [Aside to CAIUS] Pray you use your patience; in
good time.
CAIUS. By gar, you are de coward, de Jack dog, John ape.
EVANS. [Aside to CAIUS] Pray you, let us not be
laughing-stocks to other men's humours; I desire you in
friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends.
[Aloud] I will knog your urinals about your knave's cogscomb
for missing your meetings and appointments.
CAIUS. Diable! Jack Rugby-mine Host de Jarteer-have I
not stay for him to kill him? Have I not, at de place I did
appoint?
EVANS. As I am a Christians soul, now, look you, this is the
place appointed. I'll be judgment by mine host of the
Garter.
HOST. Peace, I say, Gallia and Gaul, French and Welsh,
soul-curer and body-curer.
CAIUS. Ay, dat is very good! excellent!
HOST. Peace, I say. Hear mine host of the Garter. Am I
politic? am I subtle? am I a Machiavel? Shall I lose my
doctor? No; he gives me the potions and the motions. Shall I
lose my parson, my priest, my Sir Hugh? No; he gives me
the proverbs and the noverbs. Give me thy hand, terrestrial;
so. Give me thy hand, celestial; so. Boys of art, I have
deceiv'd you both; I have directed you to wrong places;
your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole, and let burnt
sack be the issue. Come, lay their swords to pawn. Follow
me, lads of peace; follow, follow, follow.
SHALLOW. Trust me, a mad host. Follow, gentlemen, follow.
SLENDER. [Aside] O sweet Anne Page!
Exeunt all but CAIUS and EVANS
CAIUS. Ha, do I perceive dat? Have you make-a de sot of us,
ha, ha?
EVANS. This is well; he has made us his vlouting-stog. I
desire you that we may be friends; and let us knog our prains
together to be revenge on this same scall, scurvy, cogging
companion, the host of the Garter.
CAIUS. By gar, with all my heart. He promise to bring me
where is Anne Page; by gar, he deceive me too.
EVANS. Well, I will smite his noddles. Pray you follow.
Exeunt
<>
SCENE 2.
The street in Windsor
Enter MISTRESS PAGE and ROBIN
MRS. PAGE. Nay, keep your way, little gallant; you were
wont to be a follower, but now you are a leader. Whether
had you rather lead mine eyes, or eye your master's heels?
ROBIN. I had rather, forsooth, go before you like a man than
follow him like a dwarf.
MRS. PAGE. O, you are a flattering boy; now I see you'll be a
courtier.
Enter FORD
FORD. Well met, Mistress Page. Whither go you?
MRS. PAGE. Truly, sir, to see your wife. Is she at home?
FORD. Ay; and as idle as she may hang together, for want of
company. I think, if your husbands were dead, you two
would marry.
MRS. PAGE. Be sure of that-two other husbands.
FORD. Where had you this pretty weathercock?
MRS. PAGE. I cannot tell what the dickens his name is my
husband had him of. What do you call your knight's
name, sirrah?
ROBIN. Sir John Falstaff.
FORD. Sir John Falstaff!
MRS. PAGE. He, he; I can never hit on's name. There is such
a league between my good man and he! Is your wife at
home indeed?
FORD. Indeed she is.
MRS. PAGE. By your leave, sir. I am sick till I see her.
Exeunt MRS. PAGE and ROBIN
FORD. Has Page any brains? Hath he any eyes? Hath he any
thinking? Sure, they sleep; he hath no use of them. Why,
this boy will carry a letter twenty mile as easy as a cannon
will shoot pointblank twelve score. He pieces out his wife's
inclination; he gives her folly motion and advantage; and
now she's going to my wife, and Falstaff's boy with her. A
man may hear this show'r sing in the wind. And Falstaff's
boy with her! Good plots! They are laid; and our revolted
wives share damnation together. Well; I will take him,
then torture my wife, pluck the borrowed veil of modesty
from the so seeming Mistress Page, divulge Page himself
for a secure and wilful Actaeon; and to these violent proceedings
all my neighbours shall cry aim. [Clock strikes]
The clock gives me my cue, and my assurance bids me
search; there I shall find Falstaff. I shall be rather prais'd
for this than mock'd; for it is as positive as the earth is firm
that Falstaff is there. I will go.
Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, SLENDER, HOST, SIR HUGH EVANS,
CAIUS, and RUGBY
SHALLOW, PAGE, &C. Well met, Master Ford.
FORD. Trust me, a good knot; I have good cheer at home,
and I pray you all go with me.
SHALLOW. I must excuse myself, Master Ford.
SLENDER. And so must I, sir; we have appointed to dine with
Mistress Anne, and I would not break with her for more
money than I'll speak of.
SHALLOW. We have linger'd about a match between Anne
Page and my cousin Slender, and this day we shall have
our answer.
SLENDER. I hope I have your good will, father Page.
PAGE. You have, Master Slender; I stand wholly for you. But
my wife, Master Doctor, is for you altogether.
CAIUS. Ay, be-gar; and de maid is love-a me; my nursh-a
Quickly tell me so mush.
HOST. What say you to young Master Fenton? He capers,
he dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes verses, he speaks
holiday, he smells April and May; he will carry 't, he will
carry 't; 'tis in his buttons; he will carry 't.
PAGE. Not by my consent, I promise you. The gentleman is
of no having: he kept company with the wild Prince and
Poins; he is of too high a region, he knows too much. No,
he shall not knit a knot in his fortunes with the finger of
my substance; if he take her, let him take her simply; the
wealth I have waits on my consent, and my consent goes
not that way.
FORD. I beseech you, heartily, some of you go home with me
to dinner: besides your cheer, you shall have sport; I will
show you a monster. Master Doctor, you shall go; so shall
you, Master Page; and you, Sir Hugh.
SHALLOW. Well, fare you well; we shall have the freer
wooing at Master Page's. Exeunt SHALLOW and SLENDER
CAIUS. Go home, John Rugby; I come anon. Exit RUGBY
HOST. Farewell, my hearts; I will to my honest knight
Falstaff, and drink canary with him. Exit HOST
FORD. [Aside] I think I shall drink in pipe-wine first with
him. I'll make him dance. Will you go, gentles?
ALL. Have with you to see this monster. Exeunt
<>
SCENE 3.
FORD'S house
Enter MISTRESS FORD and MISTRESS PAGE
MRS. FORD. What, John! what, Robert!
MRS. PAGE. Quickly, quickly! Is the buck-basket-
MRS. FORD. I warrant. What, Robin, I say!
Enter SERVANTS with a basket
MRS. PAGE. Come, come, come.
MRS. FORD. Here, set it down.
MRS. PAGE. Give your men the charge; we must be brief.
MRS. FORD. Marry, as I told you before, John and Robert, be
ready here hard by in the brew-house; and when I suddenly
call you, come forth, and, without any pause or
staggering, take this basket on your shoulders. That done,
trudge with it in all haste, and carry it among the whitsters
in Datchet Mead, and there empty it in the muddy ditch
close by the Thames side.
Mrs. PAGE. You will do it?
MRS. FORD. I ha' told them over and over; they lack no
direction. Be gone, and come when you are call'd.
Exeunt SERVANTS
MRS. PAGE. Here comes little Robin.
Enter ROBIN
MRS. FORD. How now, my eyas-musket, what news with
you?
ROBIN. My Master Sir John is come in at your back-door,
Mistress Ford, and requests your company.
MRS. PAGE. You little Jack-a-Lent, have you been true to us?
ROBIN. Ay, I'll be sworn. My master knows not of your
being here, and hath threat'ned to put me into everlasting
liberty, if I tell you of it; for he swears he'll turn me away.
MRS. PAGE. Thou 'rt a good boy; this secrecy of thine shall
be a tailor to thee, and shall make thee a new doublet and
hose. I'll go hide me.
MRS. FORD. Do so. Go tell thy master I am alone. [Exit
ROBIN] Mistress Page, remember you your cue.
MRS. PAGE. I warrant thee; if I do not act it, hiss me.
Exit MRS. PAGE
MRS. FORD. Go to, then; we'll use this unwholesome
humidity, this gross wat'ry pumpion; we'll teach him to
know turtles from jays.
Enter FALSTAFF
FALSTAFF. Have I caught thee, my heavenly jewel?
Why, now let me die, for I have liv'd long enough; this is
the period of my ambition. O this blessed hour!
MRS. FORD. O sweet Sir John!
FALSTAFF. Mistress Ford, I cannot cog, I cannot prate,
Mistress Ford. Now shall I sin in my wish; I would thy
husband were dead; I'll speak it before the best lord, I
would make thee my lady.
MRS. FORD. I your lady, Sir John? Alas, I should be a pitiful
lady.
FALSTAFF. Let the court of France show me such another. I
see how thine eye would emulate the diamond; thou hast
the right arched beauty of the brow that becomes the
ship-tire, the tire-valiant, or any tire of Venetian admittance.
MRS. FORD. A plain kerchief, Sir John; my brows become
nothing else, nor that well neither.
FALSTAFF. By the Lord, thou art a tyrant to say so; thou
wouldst make an absolute courtier, and the firm fixture of
thy foot would give an excellent motion to thy gait in a
semi-circled farthingale. I see what thou wert, if Fortune
thy foe were, not Nature, thy friend. Come, thou canst not
hide it.
MRS. FORD. Believe me, there's no such thing in me.
FALSTAFF. What made me love thee? Let that persuade thee
there's something extra-ordinary in thee. Come, I cannot
cog, and say thou art this and that, like a many of these
lisping hawthorn-buds that come like women in men's
apparel, and smell like Bucklersbury in simple time; I
cannot; but I love thee, none but thee; and thou deserv'st it.
MRS. FORD. Do not betray me, sir; I fear you love Mistress
Page.
FALSTAFF. Thou mightst as well say I love to walk by the
Counter-gate, which is as hateful to me as the reek of a
lime-kiln.
MRS. FORD. Well, heaven knows how I love you; and you
shall one day find it.
FALSTAFF. Keep in that mind; I'll deserve it.
MRS. FORD. Nay, I must tell you, so you do; or else I could
not be in that mind.
ROBIN. [Within] Mistress Ford, Mistress Ford! here's
Mistress Page at the door, sweating and blowing and looking
wildly, and would needs speak with you presently.
FALSTAFF. She shall not see me; I will ensconce me behind
the arras.
MRS. FORD. Pray you, do so; she's a very tattling woman.
[FALSTAFF hides himself]
Re-enter MISTRESS PAGE and ROBIN
What's the matter? How now!
MRS. PAGE. O Mistress Ford, what have you done? You're
sham'd, y'are overthrown, y'are undone for ever.
MRS. FORD. What's the matter, good Mistress Page?
MRS. PAGE. O well-a-day, Mistress Ford, having an honest
man to your husband, to give him such cause of suspicion!
MRS. FORD. What cause of suspicion?
MRS. PAGE. What cause of suspicion? Out upon you, how
am I mistook in you!
MRS. FORD. Why, alas, what's the matter?
MRS. PAGE. Your husband's coming hither, woman, with all
the officers in Windsor, to search for a gentleman that he
says is here now in the house, by your consent, to take an
ill advantage of his absence. You are undone.
MRS. FORD. 'Tis not so, I hope.
MRS. PAGE. Pray heaven it be not so that you have such a
man here; but 'tis most certain your husband's coming,
with half Windsor at his heels, to search for such a one. I
come before to tell you. If you know yourself clear, why,
I am glad of it; but if you have a friend here, convey,
convey him out. Be not amaz'd; call all your senses to you;
defend your reputation, or bid farewell to your good life
for ever.
MRS. FORD. What shall I do? There is a gentleman, my dear
friend; and I fear not mine own shame as much as his peril.
I had rather than a thousand pound he were out of the
house.
MRS. PAGE. For shame, never stand 'you had rather' and 'you
had rather'! Your husband's here at hand; bethink you of
some conveyance; in the house you cannot hide him. O,
how have you deceiv'd me! Look, here is a basket; if he be
of any reasonable stature, he may creep in here; and throw
foul linen upon him, as if it were going to bucking, or-it is
whiting-time-send him by your two men to Datchet
Mead.
MRS. FORD. He's too big to go in there. What shall I do?
FALSTAFF. [Coming forward] Let me see 't, let me see 't. O,
let me see 't! I'll in, I'll in; follow your friend's counsel;
I'll in.
MRS. PAGE. What, Sir John Falstaff! [Aside to FALSTAFF]
Are these your letters, knight?
FALSTAFF. [Aside to MRS. PAGE] I love thee and none but
thee; help me away.-Let me creep in here; I'll never-
[Gets into the basket; they cover him with foul linen]
MRS. PAGE. Help to cover your master, boy. Call your men,
Mistress Ford. You dissembling knight!
MRS. FORD. What, John! Robert! John! Exit ROBIN
Re-enter SERVANTS
Go, take up these clothes here, quickly; where's the
cowl-staff? Look how you drumble. Carry them to the laundress
in Datchet Mead; quickly, come.
Enter FORD, PAGE, CAIUS, and SIR HUGH EVANS
FORD. Pray you come near. If I suspect without cause, why
then make sport at me, then let me be your jest; I deserve
it. How now, whither bear you this?
SERVANT. To the laundress, forsooth.
MRS. FORD. Why, what have you to do whither they bear it?
You were best meddle with buck-washing.
FORD. Buck? I would I could wash myself of the buck!
Buck, buck, buck! ay, buck! I warrant you, buck; and of
the season too, it shall appear. [Exeunt SERVANTS with
basket] Gentlemen, I have dream'd to-night; I'll tell you my
dream. Here, here, here be my keys; ascend my chambers,
search, seek, find out. I'll warrant we'll unkennel the fox.
Let me stop this way first. [Locking the door] So, now
uncape.
PAGE. Good Master Ford, be contented; you wrong yourself
too much.
FORD. True, Master Page. Up, gentlemen, you shall see sport
anon; follow me, gentlemen. Exit
EVANS. This is fery fantastical humours and jealousies.
CAIUS. By gar, 'tis no the fashion of France; it is not jealous
in France.
PAGE. Nay, follow him, gentlemen; see the issue of his
search. Exeunt EVANS, PAGE, and CAIUS
MRS. PAGE. Is there not a double excellency in this?
MRS. FORD. I know not which pleases me better, that my
husband is deceived, or Sir John.
MRS. PAGE. What a taking was he in when your husband
ask'd who was in the basket!
MRS. FORD. I am half afraid he will have need of washing; so
throwing him into the water will do him a benefit.
MRS. PAGE. Hang him, dishonest rascal! I would all of the
same strain were in the same distress.
MRS. FORD. I think my husband hath some special suspicion
of Falstaff's being here, for I never saw him so gross in his
jealousy till now.
MRS. PAGE. I Will lay a plot to try that, and we will yet have
more tricks with Falstaff. His dissolute disease will scarce
obey this medicine.
MRS. FORD. Shall we send that foolish carrion, Mistress
Quickly, to him, and excuse his throwing into the water,
and give him another hope, to betray him to another
punishment?
MRS. PAGE. We will do it; let him be sent for to-morrow
eight o'clock, to have amends.
Re-enter FORD, PAGE, CAIUS, and SIR HUGH EVANS
FORD. I cannot find him; may be the knave bragg'd of that
he could not compass.
MRS. PAGE. [Aside to MRS. FORD] Heard you that?
MRS. FORD. You use me well, Master Ford, do you?
FORD. Ay, I do so.
MRS. FORD. Heaven make you better than your thoughts!
FORD. Amen.
MRS. PAGE. You do yourself mighty wrong, Master Ford.
FORD. Ay, ay; I must bear it.
EVANS. If there be any pody in the house, and in the
chambers, and in the coffers, and in the presses, heaven forgive
my sins at the day of judgment!
CAIUS. Be gar, nor I too; there is no bodies.
PAGE. Fie, fie, Master Ford, are you not asham'd? What
spirit, what devil suggests this imagination? I would not ha'
your distemper in this kind for the wealth of Windsor
Castle.
FORD. 'Tis my fault, Master Page; I suffer for it.
EVANS. You suffer for a pad conscience. Your wife is as
honest a omans as I will desires among five thousand, and five
hundred too.
CAIUS. By gar, I see 'tis an honest woman.
FORD. Well, I promis'd you a dinner. Come, come, walk in
the Park. I pray you pardon me; I will hereafter make
known to you why I have done this. Come, wife, come,
Mistress Page; I pray you pardon me; pray heartly,
pardon me.
PAGE. Let's go in, gentlemen; but, trust me, we'll mock him.
I do invite you to-morrow morning to my house to breakfast;
after, we'll a-birding together; I have a fine hawk for
the bush. Shall it be so?
FORD. Any thing.
EVANS. If there is one, I shall make two in the company.
CAIUS. If there be one or two, I shall make-a the turd.
FORD. Pray you go, Master Page.
EVANS. I pray you now, remembrance to-morrow on the
lousy knave, mine host.
CAIUS. Dat is good; by gar, with all my heart.
EVANS. A lousy knave, to have his gibes and his mockeries!
Exeunt
SCENE 4.
Before PAGE'S house
Enter FENTON and ANNE PAGE
FENTON. I see I cannot get thy father's love;
Therefore no more turn me to him, sweet Nan.
ANNE. Alas, how then?
FENTON. Why, thou must be thyself.
He doth object I am too great of birth;
And that, my state being gall'd with my expense,
I seek to heal it only by his wealth.
Besides these, other bars he lays before me,
My riots past, my wild societies;
And tells me 'tis a thing impossible
I should love thee but as a property.
ANNE.. May be he tells you true.
FENTON. No, heaven so speed me in my time to come!
Albeit I will confess thy father's wealth
Was the first motive that I woo'd thee, Anne;
Yet, wooing thee, I found thee of more value
Than stamps in gold, or sums in sealed bags;
And 'tis the very riches of thyself
That now I aim at.
ANNE. Gentle Master Fenton,
Yet seek my father's love; still seek it, sir.
If opportunity and humblest suit
Cannot attain it, why then-hark you hither.
[They converse apart]
Enter SHALLOW, SLENDER, and MISTRESS QUICKLY
SHALLOW. Break their talk, Mistress Quickly; my kinsman
shall speak for himself.
SLENDER. I'll make a shaft or a bolt on 't; 'slid, 'tis but
venturing.
SHALLOW. Be not dismay'd.
SLENDER. No, she shall not dismay me. I care not for that,
but that I am afeard.
QUICKLY. Hark ye, Master Slender would speak a word
with you.
ANNE. I come to him. [Aside] This is my father's choice.
O, what a world of vile ill-favour'd faults
Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year!
QUICKLY. And how does good Master Fenton? Pray you, a
word with you.
SHALLOW. She's coming; to her, coz. O boy, thou hadst a
father!
SLENDER. I had a father, Mistress Anne; my uncle can tell
you good jests of him. Pray you, uncle, tell Mistress Anne
the jest how my father stole two geese out of a pen, good
uncle.
SHALLOW. Mistress Anne, my cousin loves you.
SLENDER. Ay, that I do; as well as I love any woman in
Gloucestershire.
SHALLOW. He will maintain you like a gentlewoman.
SLENDER. Ay, that I will come cut and longtail, under the
degree of a squire.
SHALLOW. He will make you a hundred and fifty pounds
jointure.
ANNE. Good Master Shallow, let him woo for himself.
SHALLOW. Marry, I thank you for it; I thank you for that
good comfort. She calls you, coz; I'll leave you.
ANNE. Now, Master Slender-
SLENDER. Now, good Mistress Anne-
ANNE. What is your will?
SLENDER. My Will! 'Od's heartlings, that's a pretty jest
indeed! I ne'er made my will yet, I thank heaven; I am not
such a sickly creature, I give heaven praise.
ANNE. I mean, Master Slender, what would you with me?
SLENDER. Truly, for mine own part I would little or nothing
with you. Your father and my uncle hath made motions;
if it be my luck, so; if not, happy man be his dole! They
can tell you how things go better than I can. You may ask
your father; here he comes.
Enter PAGE and MISTRESS PAGE
PAGE. Now, Master Slender! Love him, daughter Anne-
Why, how now, what does Master Fenton here?
You wrong me, sir, thus still to haunt my house.
I told you, sir, my daughter is dispos'd of.
FENTON. Nay, Master Page, be not impatient.
MRS. PAGE. Good Master Fenton, come not to my child.
PAGE. She is no match for you.
FENTON. Sir, will you hear me?
PAGE. No, good Master Fenton.
Come, Master Shallow; come, son Slender; in.
Knowing my mind, you wrong me, Master Fenton.
Exeunt PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER
QUICKLY. Speak to Mistress Page.
FENTON. Good Mistress Page, for that I love your daughter
In such a righteous fashion as I do,
Perforce, against all checks, rebukes, and manners,
I must advance the colours of my love,
And not retire. Let me have your good will.
ANNE. Good mother, do not marry me to yond fool.
MRS. PAGE. I mean it not; I seek you a better husband.
QUICKLY. That's my master, Master Doctor.
ANNE. Alas, I had rather be set quick i' th' earth.
And bowl'd to death with turnips.
MRS. PAGE. Come, trouble not yourself. Good Master
Fenton,
I will not be your friend, nor enemy;
My daughter will I question how she loves you,
And as I find her, so am I affected;
Till then, farewell, sir; she must needs go in;
Her father will be angry.
FENTON. Farewell, gentle mistress; farewell, Nan.
Exeunt MRS. PAGE and ANNE
QUICKLY. This is my doing now: 'Nay,' said I 'will you cast
away your child on a fool, and a physician? Look on
Master Fenton.' This is my doing.
FENTON. I thank thee; and I pray thee, once to-night
Give my sweet Nan this ring. There's for thy pains.
QUICKLY. Now Heaven send thee good fortune! [Exit
FENTON] A kind heart he hath; a woman would run through
fire and water for such a kind heart. But yet I would my
master had Mistress Anne; or I would Master Slender had
her; or, in sooth, I would Master Fenton had her; I will
do what I can for them all three, for so I have promis'd,
and I'll be as good as my word; but speciously for Master
Fenton. Well, I must of another errand to Sir John Falstaff
from my two mistresses. What a beast am I to slack it!
Exit
SCENE 5.
The Garter Inn
Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH
FALSTAFF. Bardolph, I say!
BARDOLPH. Here, sir.
FALSTAFF. Go fetch me a quart of sack; put a toast in 't.
Exit BARDOLPH
Have I liv'd to be carried in a basket, like a barrow of
butcher's offal, and to be thrown in the Thames? Well, if
I be serv'd such another trick, I'll have my brains ta'en out
and butter'd, and give them to a dog for a new-year's gift.
The rogues slighted me into the river with as little remorse
as they would have drown'd a blind bitch's puppies, fifteen
i' th' litter; and you may know by my size that I have
a kind of alacrity in sinking; if the bottom were as deep as
hell I should down. I had been drown'd but that the shore
was shelvy and shallow-a death that I abhor; for the water
swells a man; and what a thing should I have been when
had been swell'd! I should have been a mountain of
mummy.
Re-enter BARDOLPH, with sack
BARDOLPH. Here's Mistress Quickly, sir, to speak with you
FALSTAFF. Come, let me pour in some sack to the Thames
water; for my belly's as cold as if I had swallow'd
snowballs for pills to cool the reins. Call her in.
BARDOLPH. Come in, woman.
Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY
QUICKLY. By your leave; I cry you mercy. Give your
worship good morrow.
FALSTAFF. Take away these chalices. Go, brew me a pottle
of sack finely.
BARDOLPH. With eggs, sir?
FALSTAFF. Simple of itself; I'll no pullet-sperm in my
brewage. [Exit BARDOLPH] How now!
QUICKLY. Marry, sir, I come to your worship from Mistress
Ford.
FALSTAFF. Mistress Ford! I have had ford enough; I was
thrown into the ford; I have my belly full of ford.
QUICKLY. Alas the day, good heart, that was not her fault!
She does so take on with her men; they mistook their
erection.
FALSTAFF. So did I mine, to build upon a foolish woman's
promise.
QUICKLY. Well, she laments, sir, for it, that it would yearn
your heart to see it. Her husband goes this morning
a-birding; she desires you once more to come to her between
eight and nine; I must carry her word quickly. She'll make
you amends, I warrant you.
FALSTAFF. Well, I Will visit her. Tell her so; and bid her
think what a man is. Let her consider his frailty, and then
judge of my merit.
QUICKLY. I will tell her.
FALSTAFF. Do so. Between nine and ten, say'st thou?
QUICKLY. Eight and nine, sir.
FALSTAFF. Well, be gone; I will not miss her.
QUICKLY. Peace be with you, sir. Exit
FALSTAFF. I marvel I hear not of Master Brook; he sent me
word to stay within. I like his money well. O, here he
comes.
Enter FORD disguised
FORD. Bless you, sir!
FALSTAFF. Now, Master Brook, you come to know what
hath pass'd between me and Ford's wife?
FORD. That, indeed, Sir John, is my business.
FALSTAFF. Master Brook, I will not lie to you; I was at her
house the hour she appointed me.
FORD. And sped you, sir?
FALSTAFF. Very ill-favouredly, Master Brook.
FORD. How so, sir; did she change her determination?
FALSTAFF. No. Master Brook; but the peaking cornuto her
husband, Master Brook, dwelling in a continual 'larum of
jealousy, comes me in the instant of our, encounter, after
we had embrac'd, kiss'd, protested, and, as it were, spoke
the prologue of our comedy; and at his heels a rabble of his
companions, thither provoked and instigated by his
distemper, and, forsooth, to search his house for his wife's
love.
FORD. What, while you were there?
FALSTAFF. While I was there.
FORD. And did he search for you, and could not find you?
FALSTAFF. You shall hear. As good luck would have it, comes
in one Mistress Page, gives intelligence of Ford's approach;
and, in her invention and Ford's wife's distraction, they
convey'd me into a buck-basket.
FORD. A buck-basket!
FALSTAFF. By the Lord, a buck-basket! Ramm'd me in with
foul shirts and smocks, socks, foul stockings, greasy
napkins, that, Master Brook, there was the rankest compound
of villainous smell that ever offended nostril.
FORD. And how long lay you there?
FALSTAFF. Nay, you shall hear, Master Brook, what I have
suffer'd to bring this woman to evil for your good. Being
thus cramm'd in the basket, a couple of Ford's knaves, his
hinds, were call'd forth by their mistress to carry me in
the name of foul clothes to Datchet Lane; they took me on
their shoulders; met the jealous knave their master in the
door; who ask'd them once or twice what they had in their
basket. I quak'd for fear lest the lunatic knave would have
search'd it; but Fate, ordaining he should be a cuckold,
held his hand. Well, on went he for a search, and away
went I for foul clothes. But mark the sequel, Master
Brook-I suffered the pangs of three several deaths: first,
an intolerable fright to be detected with a jealous rotten
bell-wether; next, to be compass'd like a good bilbo in the
circumference of a peck, hilt to point, heel to head; and
then, to be stopp'd in, like a strong distillation, with
stinking clothes that fretted in their own grease. Think of that
-a man of my kidney. Think of that-that am as subject to
heat as butter; a man of continual dissolution and thaw. It
was a miracle to scape suffocation. And in the height of
this bath, when I was more than half-stew'd in grease, like
a Dutch dish, to be thrown into the Thames, and cool'd,
glowing hot, in that surge, like a horse-shoe; think of that
-hissing hot. Think of that, Master Brook.
FORD. In good sadness, sir, I am sorry that for my sake you
have suffer'd all this. My suit, then, is desperate;
you'll undertake her no more.
FALSTAFF. Master Brook, I will be thrown into Etna, as I
have been into Thames, ere I will leave her thus. Her
husband is this morning gone a-birding; I have received from
her another embassy of meeting; 'twixt eight and nine is
the hour, Master Brook.
FORD. 'Tis past eight already, sir.
FALSTAFF. Is it? I Will then address me to my appointment.
Come to me at your convenient leisure, and you shall
know how I speed; and the conclusion shall be crowned
with your enjoying her. Adieu. You shall have her, Master
Brook; Master Brook, you shall cuckold Ford. Exit
FORD. Hum! ha! Is this a vision? Is this a dream? Do I sleep?
Master Ford, awake; awake, Master Ford. There's a hole
made in your best coat, Master Ford. This 'tis to be
married; this 'tis to have linen and buck-baskets! Well, I will
proclaim myself what I am; I will now take the lecher; he
is at my house. He cannot scape me; 'tis impossible he
should; he cannot creep into a halfpenny purse nor into
a pepper box. But, lest the devil that guides him should aid
him, I will search impossible places. Though what I am I
cannot avoid, yet to be what I would not shall not make
me tame. If I have horns to make one mad, let the proverb
go with me-I'll be horn mad. Exit
<>
ACT IV. SCENE I.
Windsor. A street
Enter MISTRESS PAGE, MISTRESS QUICKLY, and WILLIAM
MRS. PAGE. Is he at Master Ford's already, think'st thou?
QUICKLY. Sure he is by this; or will be presently; but truly
he is very courageous mad about his throwing into the
water. Mistress Ford desires you to come suddenly.
MRS. PAGE. I'll be with her by and by; I'll but bring my
young man here to school. Look where his master comes;
'tis a playing day, I see.
Enter SIR HUGH EVANS
How now, Sir Hugh, no school to-day?
EVANS. No; Master Slender is let the boys leave to play.
QUICKLY. Blessing of his heart!
MRS. PAGE. Sir Hugh, my husband says my son profits
nothing in the world at his book; I pray you ask him some
questions in his accidence.
EVANS. Come hither, William; hold up your head; come.
MRS. PAGE. Come on, sirrah; hold up your head; answer your
master; be not afraid.
EVANS. William, how many numbers is in nouns?
WILLIAM. Two.
QUICKLY. Truly, I thought there had been one number
more, because they say 'Od's nouns.'
EVANS. Peace your tattlings. What is 'fair,' William?
WILLIAM. Pulcher.
QUICKLY. Polecats! There are fairer things than polecats,
sure.
EVANS. You are a very simplicity oman; I pray you, peace.
What is 'lapis,' William?
WILLIAM. A stone.
EVANS. And what is 'a stone,' William?
WILLIAM. A pebble.
EVANS. No, it is 'lapis'; I pray you remember in your prain.
WILLIAM. Lapis.
EVANS. That is a good William. What is he, William, that
does lend articles?
WILLIAM. Articles are borrowed of the pronoun, and be
thus declined: Singulariter, nominativo; hic, haec, hoc.
EVANS. Nominativo, hig, hag, hog; pray you, mark: genitivo,
hujus. Well, what is your accusative case?
WILLIAM. Accusativo, hinc.
EVANS. I pray you, have your remembrance, child.
Accusativo, hung, hang, hog.
QUICKLY. 'Hang-hog' is Latin for bacon, I warrant you.
EVANS. Leave your prabbles, oman. What is the focative
case, William?
WILLIAM. O-vocativo, O.
EVANS. Remember, William: focative is caret.
QUICKLY. And that's a good root.
EVANS. Oman, forbear.
MRS. PAGE. Peace.
EVANS. What is your genitive case plural, William?
WILLIAM. Genitive case?
EVANS. Ay.
WILLIAM. Genitive: horum, harum, horum.
QUICKLY. Vengeance of Jenny's case; fie on her! Never
name her, child, if she be a whore.
EVANS. For shame, oman.
QUICKLY. YOU do ill to teach the child such words. He
teaches him to hick and to hack, which they'll do fast
enough of themselves; and to call 'horum'; fie upon you!
EVANS. Oman, art thou lunatics? Hast thou no understandings
for thy cases, and the numbers of the genders? Thou
art as foolish Christian creatures as I would desires.
MRS. PAGE. Prithee hold thy peace.
EVANS. Show me now, William, some declensions of your
pronouns.
WILLIAM. Forsooth, I have forgot.
EVANS. It is qui, quae, quod; if you forget your qui's, your
quae's, and your quod's, you must be preeches. Go your
ways and play; go.
MRS. PAGE. He is a better scholar than I thought he was.
EVANS. He is a good sprag memory. Farewell, Mistress Page.
MRS. PAGE. Adieu, good Sir Hugh. Exit SIR HUGH
Get you home, boy. Come, we stay too long. Exeunt
SCENE 2.
FORD'S house
Enter FALSTAFF and MISTRESS FORD
FALSTAFF. Mistress Ford, your sorrow hath eaten up my
sufferance. I see you are obsequious in your love, and I
profess requital to a hair's breadth; not only, Mistress Ford, in
the simple office of love, but in all the accoutrement,
complement, and ceremony of it. But are you sure of your
husband now?
MRS. FORD. He's a-birding, sweet Sir John.
MRS. PAGE. [Within] What hoa, gossip Ford, what hoa!
MRS. FORD. Step into th' chamber, Sir John. Exit FALSTAFF
Enter MISTRESS PAGE
MRS. PAGE. How now, sweetheart, who's at home besides
yourself?
MRS. FORD. Why, none but mine own people.
MRS. PAGE. Indeed?
MRS. FORD. No, certainly. [Aside to her] Speak louder.
MRS. PAGE. Truly, I am so glad you have nobody here.
MRS. FORD. Why?
MRS. PAGE. Why, woman, your husband is in his old lunes
again. He so takes on yonder with my husband; so rails
against all married mankind; so curses an Eve's daughters,
of what complexion soever; and so buffets himself on the
forehead, crying 'Peer-out, peer-out!' that any madness I
ever yet beheld seem'd but tameness, civility, and patience,
to this his distemper he is in now. I am glad the fat knight
is not here.
MRS. FORD. Why, does he talk of him?
MRS. PAGE. Of none but him; and swears he was carried out,
the last time he search'd for him, in a basket; protests to
my husband he is now here; and hath drawn him and the
rest of their company from their sport, to make another
experiment of his suspicion. But I am glad the knight is not
here; now he shall see his own foolery.
MRS. FORD. How near is he, Mistress Page?
MRS. PAGE. Hard by, at street end; he will be here anon.
MRS. FORD. I am undone: the knight is here.
MRS. PAGE. Why, then, you are utterly sham'd, and he's but
a dead man. What a woman are you! Away with him,
away with him; better shame than murder.
MRS. FORD. Which way should he go? How should I bestow
him? Shall I put him into the basket again?
Re-enter FALSTAFF
FALSTAFF. No, I'll come no more i' th' basket. May I not go
out ere he come?
MRS. PAGE. Alas, three of Master Ford's brothers watch the
door with pistols, that none shall issue out; otherwise you
might slip away ere he came. But what make you here?
FALSTAFF. What shall I do? I'll creep up into the chimney.
MRS. FORD. There they always use to discharge their
birding-pieces.
MRS. PAGE. Creep into the kiln-hole.
FALSTAFF. Where is it?
MRS. FORD. He will seek there, on my word. Neither press,
coffer, chest, trunk, well, vault, but he hath an abstract for
the remembrance of such places, and goes to them by his
note. There is no hiding you in the house.
FALSTAFF. I'll go out then.
MRS. PAGE. If you go out in your own semblance, you die,
Sir John. Unless you go out disguis'd.
MRS. FORD. How might we disguise him?
MRS. PAGE. Alas the day, I know not! There is no woman's
gown big enough for him; otherwise he might put on a
hat, a muffler, and a kerchief, and so escape.
FALSTAFF. Good hearts, devise something; any extremity
rather than a mischief.
MRS. FORD. My Maid's aunt, the fat woman of Brainford, has
a gown above.
MRS. PAGE. On my word, it will serve him; she's as big as he
is; and there's her thrumm'd hat, and her muffler too. Run
up, Sir John.
MRS. FORD. Go, go, sweet Sir John. Mistress Page and I will
look some linen for your head.
MRS. PAGE. Quick, quick; we'll come dress you straight. Put
on the gown the while. Exit FALSTAFF
MRS. FORD. I would my husband would meet him in this
shape; he cannot abide the old woman of Brainford; he
swears she's a witch, forbade her my house, and hath
threat'ned to beat her.
MRS. PAGE. Heaven guide him to thy husband's cudgel; and
the devil guide his cudgel afterwards!
MRS. FORD. But is my husband coming?
MRS. PAGE. Ay, in good sadness is he; and talks of the basket
too, howsoever he hath had intelligence.
MRS. FORD. We'll try that; for I'll appoint my men to carry
the basket again, to meet him at the door with it as they
did last time.
MRS. PAGE. Nay, but he'll be here presently; let's go dress
him like the witch of Brainford.
MRS. FORD. I'll first direct my men what they shall do with
the basket. Go up; I'll bring linen for him straight. Exit
MRS. PAGE. Hang him, dishonest varlet! we cannot misuse
him enough.
We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do,
Wives may be merry and yet honest too.
We do not act that often jest and laugh;
'Tis old but true: Still swine eats all the draff. Exit
Re-enter MISTRESS FORD, with two SERVANTS
MRS. FORD. Go, sirs, take the basket again on your shoulders;
your master is hard at door; if he bid you set it down, obey
him; quickly, dispatch. Exit
FIRST SERVANT. Come, come, take it up.
SECOND SERVANT. Pray heaven it be not full of knight again.
FIRST SERVANT. I hope not; I had lief as bear so much lead.
Enter FORD, PAGE, SHALLOW, CAIUS, and SIR HUGH EVANS
FORD. Ay, but if it prove true, Master Page, have you any
way then to unfool me again? Set down the basket, villain!
Somebody call my wife. Youth in a basket! O you panderly
rascals, there's a knot, a ging, a pack, a conspiracy
against me. Now shall the devil be sham'd. What, wife, I
say! Come, come forth; behold what honest clothes you
send forth to bleaching.
PAGE. Why, this passes, Master Ford; you are not to go loose
any longer; you must be pinion'd.
EVANS. Why, this is lunatics. This is mad as a mad dog.
SHALLOW. Indeed, Master Ford, this is not well, indeed.
FORD. So say I too, sir.
Re-enter MISTRESS FORD
Come hither, Mistress Ford; Mistress Ford, the honest
woman, the modest wife, the virtuous creature, that hath
the jealous fool to her husband! I suspect without cause,
Mistress, do I?
MRS. FORD. Heaven be my witness, you do, if you suspect
me in any dishonesty.
FORD. Well said, brazen-face; hold it out. Come forth, sirrah.
[Pulling clothes out of the basket]
PAGE. This passes!
MRS. FORD. Are you not asham'd? Let the clothes alone.
FORD. I shall find you anon.
EVANS. 'Tis unreasonable. Will you take up your wife's
clothes? Come away.
FORD. Empty the basket, I say.
MRS. FORD. Why, man, why?
FORD. Master Page, as I am a man, there was one convey'd
out of my house yesterday in this basket. Why may not
he be there again? In my house I am sure he is; my
intelligence is true; my jealousy is reasonable.
Pluck me out all the linen.
MRS. FORD. If you find a man there, he shall die a flea's
death.
PAGE. Here's no man.
SHALLOW. By my fidelity, this is not well, Master Ford; this
wrongs you.
EVANS. Master Ford, you must pray, and not follow the
imaginations of your own heart; this is jealousies.
FORD. Well, he's not here I seek for.
PAGE. No, nor nowhere else but in your brain.
FORD. Help to search my house this one time. If I find not
what I seek, show no colour for my extremity; let me for
ever be your table sport; let them say of me 'As jealous as
Ford, that search'd a hollow walnut for his wife's leman.'
Satisfy me once more; once more search with me.
MRS. FORD. What, hoa, Mistress Page! Come you and the old
woman down; my husband will come into the chamber.
FORD. Old woman? what old woman's that?
MRS. FORD. Why, it is my maid's aunt of Brainford.
FORD. A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean! Have I not
forbid her my house? She comes of errands, does she? We
are simple men; we do not know what's brought to pass
under the profession of fortune-telling. She works by
charms, by spells, by th' figure, and such daub'ry as this
is, beyond our element. We know nothing. Come down, you
witch, you hag you; come down, I say.
MRS. FORD. Nay, good sweet husband! Good gentlemen, let
him not strike the old woman.
Re-enter FALSTAFF in woman's clothes, and MISTRESS PAGE
MRS. PAGE. Come, Mother Prat; come. give me your hand.
FORD. I'll prat her. [Beating him] Out of my door, you
witch, you hag, you. baggage, you polecat, you ronyon!
Out, out! I'll conjure you, I'll fortune-tell you.
Exit FALSTAFF
MRS. PAGE. Are you not asham'd? I think you have kill'd the
poor woman.
MRS. FORD. Nay, he will do it. 'Tis a goodly credit for you.
FORD. Hang her, witch!
EVANS. By yea and no, I think the oman is a witch indeed; I
like not when a oman has a great peard; I spy a great peard
under his muffler.
FORD. Will you follow, gentlemen? I beseech you follow;
see but the issue of my jealousy; if I cry out thus upon no
trail, never trust me when I open again.
PAGE. Let's obey his humour a little further. Come,
gentlemen. Exeunt all but MRS. FORD and MRS. PAGE
MRS. PAGE. Trust me, he beat him most pitifully.
MRS. FORD. Nay, by th' mass, that he did not; he beat him
most unpitifully methought.
MRS. PAGE. I'll have the cudgel hallow'd and hung o'er the
altar; it hath done meritorious service.
MRS. FORD. What think you? May we, with the warrant of
womanhood and the witness of a good conscience, pursue
him with any further revenge?
MRS. PAGE. The spirit of wantonness is sure scar'd out of
him; if the devil have him not in fee-simple, with fine and
recovery, he will never, I think, in the way of waste,
attempt us again.
MRS. FORD. Shall we tell our husbands how we have serv'd
him?
MRS. PAGE. Yes, by all means; if it be but to scrape the
figures out of your husband's brains. If they can find in their
hearts the poor unvirtuous fat knight shall be any further
afflicted, we two will still be the ministers.
MRS. FORD. I'll warrant they'll have him publicly sham'd;
and methinks there would be no period to the jest, should
he not be publicly sham'd.
MRS. PAGE. Come, to the forge with it then; shape it. I
would not have things cool. Exeunt
SCENE 3.
The Garter Inn
Enter HOST and BARDOLPH
BARDOLPH. Sir, the Germans desire to have three of your
horses; the Duke himself will be to-morrow at court, and
they are going to meet him.
HOST. What duke should that be comes so secretly? I hear
not of him in the court. Let me speak with the gentlemen;
they speak English?
BARDOLPH. Ay, sir; I'll call them to you.
HOST. They shall have my horses, but I'll make them pay;
I'll sauce them; they have had my house a week at
command; I have turn'd away my other guests. They must
come off; I'll sauce them. Come. Exeunt
SCENE 4
FORD'S house
Enter PAGE, FORD, MISTRESS PAGE, MISTRESS FORD, and SIR HUGH EVANS
EVANS. 'Tis one of the best discretions of a oman as ever
did look upon.
PAGE. And did he send you both these letters at an instant?
MRS. PAGE. Within a quarter of an hour.
FORD. Pardon me, wife. Henceforth, do what thou wilt;
I rather will suspect the sun with cold
Than thee with wantonness. Now doth thy honour stand,
In him that was of late an heretic,
As firm as faith.
PAGE. 'Tis well, 'tis well; no more.
Be not as extreme in submission as in offence;
But let our plot go forward. Let our wives
Yet once again, to make us public sport,
Appoint a meeting with this old fat fellow,
Where we may take him and disgrace him for it.
FORD. There is no better way than that they spoke of.
PAGE. How? To send him word they'll meet him in the Park
at midnight? Fie, fie! he'll never come!
EVANS. You say he has been thrown in the rivers; and has
been grievously peaten as an old oman; methinks there
should be terrors in him, that he should not come;
methinks his flesh is punish'd; he shall have no desires.
PAGE. So think I too.
MRS. FORD. Devise but how you'll use him when he comes,
And let us two devise to bring him thither.
MRS. PAGE. There is an old tale goes that Heme the Hunter,
Sometime a keeper here in Windsor Forest,
Doth all the winter-time, at still midnight,
Walk round about an oak, with great ragg'd horns;
And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle,
And makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a chain
In a most hideous and dreadful manner.
You have heard of such a spirit, and well you know
The superstitious idle-headed eld
Receiv'd, and did deliver to our age,
This tale of Heme the Hunter for a truth.
PAGE. Why yet there want not many that do fear
In deep of night to walk by this Herne's oak.
But what of this?
MRS. FORD. Marry, this is our device-
That Falstaff at that oak shall meet with us,
Disguis'd, like Heme, with huge horns on his head.
PAGE. Well, let it not be doubted but he'll come,
And in this shape. When you have brought him thither,
What shall be done with him? What is your plot?
MRS. PAGE. That likewise have we thought upon, and
thus:
Nan Page my daughter, and my little son,
And three or four more of their growth, we'll dress
Like urchins, ouphes, and fairies, green and white,
With rounds of waxen tapers on their heads,
And rattles in their hands; upon a sudden,
As Falstaff, she, and I, are newly met,
Let them from forth a sawpit rush at once
With some diffused song; upon their sight
We two in great amazedness will fly.
Then let them all encircle him about,
And fairy-like, to pinch the unclean knight;
And ask him why, that hour of fairy revel,
In their so sacred paths he dares to tread
In shape profane.
MRS. FORD. And till he tell the truth,
Let the supposed fairies pinch him sound,
And burn him with their tapers.
MRS. PAGE. The truth being known,
We'll all present ourselves; dis-horn the spirit,
And mock him home to Windsor.
FORD. The children must
Be practis'd well to this or they'll nev'r do 't.
EVANS. I will teach the children their behaviours; and I will
be like a jack-an-apes also, to burn the knight with my
taber.
FORD. That will be excellent. I'll go buy them vizards.
MRS. PAGE. My Nan shall be the Queen of all the Fairies,
Finely attired in a robe of white.
PAGE. That silk will I go buy. [Aside] And in that time
Shall Master Slender steal my Nan away,
And marry her at Eton.-Go, send to Falstaff straight.
FORD. Nay, I'll to him again, in name of Brook;
He'll tell me all his purpose. Sure, he'll come.
MRS. PAGE. Fear not you that. Go get us properties
And tricking for our fairies.
EVANS. Let us about it. It is admirable pleasures, and fery
honest knaveries. Exeunt PAGE, FORD, and EVANS
MRS. PAGE. Go, Mistress Ford.
Send Quickly to Sir John to know his mind.
Exit MRS. FORD
I'll to the Doctor; he hath my good will,
And none but he, to marry with Nan Page.
That Slender, though well landed, is an idiot;
And he my husband best of all affects.
The Doctor is well money'd, and his friends
Potent at court; he, none but he, shall have her,
Though twenty thousand worthier come to crave her. Exit
SCENE 5.
The Garter Inn
Enter HOST and SIMPLE
HOST. What wouldst thou have, boor? What, thick-skin?
Speak, breathe, discuss; brief, short, quick, snap.
SIMPLE. Marry, sir, I come to speak with Sir John Falstaff
from Master Slender.
HOST. There's his chamber, his house, his castle, his
standing-bed and truckle-bed; 'tis painted about with the
story of the Prodigal, fresh and new. Go, knock and can; he'll
speak like an Anthropophaginian unto thee. Knock, I say.
SIMPLE. There's an old woman, a fat woman, gone up into
his chamber; I'll be so bold as stay, sir, till she come down;
I come to speak with her, indeed.
HOST. Ha! a fat woman? The knight may be robb'd. I'll call.
Bully knight! Bully Sir John! Speak from thy lungs
military. Art thou there? It is thine host, thine Ephesian, calls.
FALSTAFF. [Above] How now, mine host?
HOST. Here's a Bohemian-Tartar tarries the coming down of
thy fat woman. Let her descend, bully, let her descend;
my chambers are honourible. Fie, privacy, fie!
Enter FALSTAFF
FALSTAFF. There was, mine host, an old fat woman even
now with, me; but she's gone.
SIMPLE. Pray you, sir, was't not the wise woman of
Brainford?
FALSTAFF. Ay, marry was it, mussel-shell. What would you
with her?
SIMPLE. My master, sir, my Master Slender, sent to her,
seeing her go thorough the streets, to know, sir, whether one
Nym, sir, that beguil'd him of a chain, had the chain or no.
FALSTAFF. I spake with the old woman about it.
SIMPLE. And what says she, I pray, sir?
FALSTAFF Marry, she says that the very same man that
beguil'd Master Slender of his chain cozen'd him of it.
SIMPLE. I would I could have spoken with the woman
herself; I had other things to have spoken with her too,
from him.
FALSTAFF. What are they? Let us know.
HOST. Ay, come; quick.
SIMPLE. I may not conceal them, sir.
FALSTAFF. Conceal them, or thou diest.
SIMPLE.. Why, sir, they were nothing but about Mistress
Anne Page: to know if it were my master's fortune to
have her or no.
FALSTAFF. 'Tis, 'tis his fortune.
SIMPLE. What sir?
FALSTAFF. To have her, or no. Go; say the woman told me
so.
SIMPLE. May I be bold to say so, sir?
FALSTAFF. Ay, sir, like who more bold?
SIMPLE., I thank your worship; I shall make my master glad
with these tidings. Exit SIMPLE
HOST. Thou art clerkly, thou art clerkly, Sir John. Was
there a wise woman with thee?
FALSTAFF. Ay, that there was, mine host; one that hath
taught me more wit than ever I learn'd before in my life;
and I paid nothing for it neither, but was paid for my
learning.
Enter BARDOLPH
BARDOLPH. Out, alas, sir, cozenage, mere cozenage!
HOST. Where be my horses? Speak well of them, varletto.
BARDOLPH. Run away with the cozeners; for so soon as I
came beyond Eton, they threw me off from behind one of
them, in a slough of mire; and set spurs and away, like
three German devils, three Doctor Faustuses.
HOST. They are gone but to meet the Duke, villain; do not
say they be fled. Germans are honest men.
Enter SIR HUGH EVANS
EVANS. Where is mine host?
HOST. What is the matter, sir?
EVANS. Have a care of your entertainments. There is a friend
of mine come to town tells me there is three
cozen-germans that has cozen'd all the hosts of Readins,
of Maidenhead, of Colebrook, of horses and money. I tell you for
good will, look you; you are wise, and full of gibes and
vlouting-stogs, and 'tis not convenient you should be
cozened. Fare you well. Exit
Enter DOCTOR CAIUS
CAIUS. Vere is mine host de Jarteer?
HOST. Here, Master Doctor, in perplexity and doubtful
dilemma.
CAIUS. I cannot tell vat is dat; but it is tell-a me dat you
make grand preparation for a Duke de Jamany. By my
trot, dere is no duke that the court is know to come; I
tell you for good will. Adieu. Exit
HOST. Hue and cry, villain, go! Assist me, knight; I am
undone. Fly, run, hue and cry, villain; I am undone.
Exeunt HOST and BARDOLPH
FALSTAFF. I would all the world might be cozen'd, for I have
been cozen'd and beaten too. If it should come to the car
of the court how I have been transformed, and how my
transformation hath been wash'd and cudgell'd, they
would melt me out of my fat, drop by drop, and liquor
fishermen's boots with me; I warrant they would whip me
with their fine wits till I were as crestfall'n as a dried pear.
I never prosper'd since I forswore myself at primero. Well,
if my wind were but long enough to say my prayers,
would repent.
Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY
Now! whence come you?
QUICKLY. From the two parties, forsooth.
FALSTAFF. The devil take one party and his dam the other!
And so they shall be both bestowed. I have suffer'd more
for their sakes, more than the villainous inconstancy of
man's disposition is able to bear.
QUICKLY. And have not they suffer'd? Yes, I warrant;
speciously one of them; Mistress Ford, good heart, is beaten
black and blue, that you cannot see a white spot about her.
FALSTAFF. What tell'st thou me of black and blue? I was
beaten myself into all the colours of the rainbow; and
was like to be apprehended for the witch of Brainford. But
that my admirable dexterity of wit, my counterfeiting the
action of an old woman, deliver'd me, the knave constable
had set me i' th' stocks, i' th' common stocks, for a witch.
QUICKLY. Sir, let me speak with you in your chamber; you
shall hear how things go, and, I warrant, to your content.
Here is a letter will say somewhat. Good hearts, what ado
here is to bring you together! Sure, one of you does not
serve heaven well, that you are so cross'd.
FALSTAFF. Come up into my chamber. Exeunt
SCENE 6.
The Garter Inn
Enter FENTON and HOST
HOST. Master Fenton, talk not to me; my mind is heavy; I
will give over all.
FENTON. Yet hear me speak. Assist me in my purpose,
And, as I am a gentleman, I'll give the
A hundred pound in gold more than your loss.
HOST. I will hear you, Master Fenton; and I will, at the least,
keep your counsel.
FENTON. From time to time I have acquainted you
With the dear love I bear to fair Anne Page;
Who, mutually, hath answer'd my affection,
So far forth as herself might be her chooser,
Even to my wish. I have a letter from her
Of such contents as you will wonder at;
The mirth whereof so larded with my matter
That neither, singly, can be manifested
Without the show of both. Fat Falstaff
Hath a great scene. The image of the jest
I'll show you here at large. Hark, good mine host:
To-night at Heme's oak, just 'twixt twelve and one,
Must my sweet Nan present the Fairy Queen-
The purpose why is here-in which disguise,
While other jests are something rank on foot,
Her father hath commanded her to slip
Away with Slender, and with him at Eton
Immediately to marry; she hath consented.
Now, sir,
Her mother, even strong against that match
And firm for Doctor Caius, hath appointed
That he shall likewise shuffle her away
While other sports are tasking of their minds,
And at the dean'ry, where a priest attends,
Straight marry her. To this her mother's plot
She seemingly obedient likewise hath
Made promise to the doctor. Now thus it rests:
Her father means she shall be all in white;
And in that habit, when Slender sees his time
To take her by the hand and bid her go,
She shall go with him; her mother hath intended
The better to denote her to the doctor-
For they must all be mask'd and vizarded-
That quaint in green she shall be loose enrob'd,
With ribands pendent, flaring 'bout her head;
And when the doctor spies his vantage ripe,
To pinch her by the hand, and, on that token,
The maid hath given consent to go with him.
HOST. Which means she to deceive, father or mother?
FENTON. Both, my good host, to go along with me.
And here it rests-that you'll procure the vicar
To stay for me at church, 'twixt twelve and one,
And in the lawful name of marrying,
To give our hearts united ceremony.
HOST. Well, husband your device; I'll to the vicar.
Bring you the maid, you shall not lack a priest.
FENTON. So shall I evermore be bound to thee;
Besides, I'll make a present recompense. Exeunt
<>
ACT V. SCENE 1.
The Garter Inn
Enter FALSTAFF and MISTRESS QUICKLY
FALSTAFF. Prithee, no more prattling; go. I'll, hold. This is
the third time; I hope good luck lies in odd numbers.
Away, go; they say there is divinity in odd numbers, either
in nativity, chance, or death. Away.
QUICKLY. I'll provide you a chain, and I'll do what I can to
get you a pair of horns.
FALSTAFF. Away, I say; time wears; hold up your head, and
mince. Exit MRS. QUICKLY
Enter FORD disguised
How now, Master Brook. Master Brook, the matter will
be known tonight or never. Be you in the Park about
midnight, at Herne's oak, and you shall see wonders.
FORD. Went you not to her yesterday, sir, as you told me
you had appointed?
FALSTAFF. I went to her, Master Brook, as you see, like a
poor old man; but I came from her, Master Brook, like a
poor old woman. That same knave Ford, her husband, hath
the finest mad devil of jealousy in him, Master Brook, that
ever govern'd frenzy. I will tell you-he beat me grievously
in the shape of a woman; for in the shape of man, Master
Brook, I fear not Goliath with a weaver's beam; because
I know also life is a shuttle. I am in haste; go along with
me; I'll. tell you all, Master Brook. Since I pluck'd geese,
play'd truant, and whipp'd top, I knew not what 'twas to
be beaten till lately. Follow me. I'll tell you strange things
of this knave-Ford, on whom to-night I will be revenged,
and I will deliver his wife into your hand. Follow. Strange
things in hand, Master Brook! Follow. Exeunt
SCENE 2.
Windsor Park
Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER
PAGE. Come, come; we'll couch i' th' Castle ditch till we
see the light of our fairies. Remember, son Slender, my daughter.
SLENDER. Ay, forsooth; I have spoke with her, and we have
a nay-word how to know one another. I come to her in
white and cry 'mum'; she cries 'budget,' and by that we
know one another.
SHALLOW. That's good too; but what needs either your mum
or her budget? The white will decipher her well enough.
It hath struck ten o'clock.
PAGE. The night is dark; light and spirits will become it well.
Heaven prosper our sport! No man means evil but the
devil, and we shall know him by his horns. Let's away;
follow me. Exeunt
SCENE 3.
A street leading to the Park
Enter MISTRESS PAGE, MISTRESS FORD, and DOCTOR CAIUS
MRS. PAGE. Master Doctor, my daughter is in green; when
you see your time, take her by the hand, away with her to
the deanery, and dispatch it quickly. Go before into the
Park; we two must go together.
CAIUS. I know vat I have to do; adieu.
MRS. PAGE. Fare you well, sir. [Exit CAIUS] My husband
will not rejoice so much at the abuse of Falstaff as he will
chafe at the doctor's marrying my daughter; but 'tis no
matter; better a little chiding than a great deal of
heartbreak.
MRS. FORD. Where is Nan now, and her troop of fairies, and
the Welsh devil, Hugh?
MRS. PAGE. They are all couch'd in a pit hard by Heme's
oak, with obscur'd lights; which, at the very instant of
Falstaff's and our meeting, they will at once display to the
night.
MRS. FORD. That cannot choose but amaze him.
MRS. PAGE. If he be not amaz'd, he will be mock'd; if he be
amaz'd, he will every way be mock'd.
MRS. FORD. We'll betray him finely.
MRS. PAGE. Against such lewdsters and their lechery,
Those that betray them do no treachery.
MRS. FORD. The hour draws on. To the oak, to the oak!
Exeunt
SCENE 4.
Windsor Park
Enter SIR HUGH EVANS like a satyr, with OTHERS as fairies
EVANS. Trib, trib, fairies; come; and remember your parts.
Be pold, I pray you; follow me into the pit; and when I
give the watch-ords, do as I pid you. Come, come; trib,
trib. Exeunt
SCENE 5.
Another part of the Park
Enter FALSTAFF disguised as HERNE
FALSTAFF. The Windsor bell hath struck twelve; the minute
draws on. Now the hot-blooded gods assist me!
Remember, Jove, thou wast a bull for thy Europa; love set on thy
horns. O powerful love! that in some respects makes a
beast a man; in some other a man a beast. You were also,
Jupiter, a swan, for the love of Leda. O omnipotent love!
how near the god drew to the complexion of a goose! A
fault done first in the form of a beast-O Jove, a beastly
fault!-and then another fault in the semblance of a fowl-
think on't, Jove, a foul fault! When gods have hot backs
what shall poor men do? For me, I am here a Windsor
stag; and the fattest, I think, i' th' forest. Send me a cool
rut-time, Jove, or who can blame me to piss my tallow?
Who comes here? my doe?
Enter MISTRESS FORD and MISTRESS PAGE
MRS. FORD. Sir John! Art thou there, my deer, my male deer.
FALSTAFF. My doe with the black scut! Let the sky rain
potatoes; let it thunder to the tune of Greensleeves, hail
kissing-comfits, and snow eringoes; let there come a tempest
of provocation, I will shelter me here. [Embracing her]
MRS. FORD. Mistress Page is come with me, sweetheart.
FALSTAFF. Divide me like a brib'd buck, each a haunch; I
will keep my sides to myself, my shoulders for the fellow
of this walk, and my horns I bequeath your husbands. Am
I a woodman, ha? Speak I like Heme the Hunter? Why,
now is Cupid a child of conscience; he makes restitution.
As I am a true spirit, welcome! [A noise of horns]
MRS. PAGE. Alas, what noise?
MRS. FORD. Heaven forgive our sins!
FALSTAFF. What should this be?
MRS. FORD. } Away, away.
MRS. PAGE. } Away, away. [They run off]
FALSTAFF. I think the devil will not have me damn'd, lest the
oil that's in me should set hell on fire; he would never else
cross me thus.
Enter SIR HUGH EVANS like a satyr, ANNE PAGE as
a fairy, and OTHERS as the Fairy Queen, fairies, and
Hobgoblin; all with tapers
FAIRY QUEEN. Fairies, black, grey, green, and white,
You moonshine revellers, and shades of night,
You orphan heirs of fixed destiny,
Attend your office and your quality.
Crier Hobgoblin, make the fairy oyes.
PUCK. Elves, list your names; silence, you airy toys.
Cricket, to Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap;
Where fires thou find'st unrak'd, and hearths unswept,
There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry;
Our radiant Queen hates sluts and sluttery.
FALSTAFF. They are fairies; he that speaks to them shall die.
I'll wink and couch; no man their works must eye.
[Lies down upon his face]
EVANS. Where's Pede? Go you, and where you find a maid
That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers said,
Raise up the organs of her fantasy
Sleep she as sound as careless infancy;
But those as sleep and think not on their sins,
Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides, and shins.
FAIRY QUEEN. About, about;
Search Windsor castle, elves, within and out;
Strew good luck, ouphes, on every sacred room,
That it may stand till the perpetual doom
In state as wholesome as in state 'tis fit,
Worthy the owner and the owner it.
The several chairs of order look you scour
With juice of balm and every precious flower;
Each fair instalment, coat, and sev'ral crest,
With loyal blazon, evermore be blest!
And nightly, meadow-fairies, look you sing,
Like to the Garter's compass, in a ring;
Th' expressure that it bears, green let it be,
More fertile-fresh than all the field to see;
And 'Honi soit qui mal y pense' write
In em'rald tufts, flow'rs purple, blue and white;
Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery,
Buckled below fair knighthood's bending knee.
Fairies use flow'rs for their charactery.
Away, disperse; but till 'tis one o'clock,
Our dance of custom round about the oak
Of Herne the Hunter let us not forget.
EVANS. Pray you, lock hand in hand; yourselves in order set;
And twenty glow-worms shall our lanterns be,
To guide our measure round about the tree.
But, stay. I smell a man of middle earth.
FALSTAFF. Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy, lest he
transform me to a piece of cheese!
PUCK. Vile worm, thou wast o'erlook'd even in thy birth.
FAIRY QUEEN. With trial-fire touch me his finger-end;
If he be chaste, the flame will back descend,
And turn him to no pain; but if he start,
It is the flesh of a corrupted heart.
PUCK. A trial, come.
EVANS. Come, will this wood take fire?
[They put the tapers to his fingers, and he starts]
FALSTAFF. Oh, oh, oh!
FAIRY QUEEN. Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire!
About him, fairies; sing a scornful rhyme;
And, as you trip, still pinch him to your time.
THE SONG.
Fie on sinful fantasy!
Fie on lust and luxury!
Lust is but a bloody fire,
Kindled with unchaste desire,
Fed in heart, whose flames aspire,
As thoughts do blow them, higher and higher.
Pinch him, fairies, mutually;
Pinch him for his villainy;
Pinch him and burn him and turn him about,
Till candles and star-light and moonshine be out.
During this song they pinch FALSTAFF. DOCTOR
CAIUS comes one way, and steals away a fairy in
green; SLENDER another way, and takes off a fairy in
white; and FENTON steals away ANNE PAGE. A noise
of hunting is heard within. All the fairies run away.
FALSTAFF pulls off his buck's head, and rises
Enter PAGE, FORD, MISTRESS PAGE, MISTRESS FORD, and
SIR HUGH EVANS
PAGE. Nay, do not fly; I think we have watch'd you now.
Will none but Heme the Hunter serve your turn?
MRS. PAGE. I pray you, come, hold up the jest no higher.
Now, good Sir John, how like you Windsor wives?
See you these, husband? Do not these fair yokes
Become the forest better than the town?
FORD. Now, sir, who's a cuckold now? Master Brook,
Falstaff's a knave, a cuckoldly knave; here are his horns,
Master Brook; and, Master Brook, he hath enjoyed nothing of
Ford's but his buck-basket, his cudgel, and twenty pounds
of money, which must be paid to Master Brook; his horses
are arrested for it, Master Brook.
MRS. FORD. Sir John, we have had ill luck; we could never
meet. I will never take you for my love again; but I will
always count you my deer.
FALSTAFF. I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass.
FORD. Ay, and an ox too; both the proofs are extant.
FALSTAFF. And these are not fairies? I was three or four
times in the thought they were not fairies; and yet the
guiltiness of my mind, the sudden surprise of my powers,
drove the grossness of the foppery into a receiv'd belief,
in despite of the teeth of all rhyme and reason, that they
were fairies. See now how wit may be made a Jack-a-Lent
when 'tis upon ill employment.
EVANS. Sir John Falstaff, serve Got, and leave your desires,
and fairies will not pinse you.
FORD. Well said, fairy Hugh.
EVANS. And leave you your jealousies too, I pray you.
FORD. I will never mistrust my wife again, till thou art able
to woo her in good English.
FALSTAFF. Have I laid my brain in the sun, and dried it, that
it wants matter to prevent so gross, o'er-reaching as this?
Am I ridden with a Welsh goat too? Shall I have a cox-comb
of frieze? 'Tis time I were chok'd with a piece of
toasted cheese.
EVANS. Seese is not good to give putter; your belly is all
putter.
FALSTAFF. 'Seese' and 'putter'! Have I liv'd to stand at the
taunt of one that makes fritters of English? This is enough
to be the decay of lust and late-walking through the realm.
MRS. PAGE. Why, Sir John, do you think, though we would
have thrust virtue out of our hearts by the head and
shoulders, and have given ourselves without scruple to hell,
that ever the devil could have made you our delight?
FORD. What, a hodge-pudding? a bag of flax?
MRS. PAGE. A puff'd man?
PAGE. Old, cold, wither'd, and of intolerable entrails?
FORD. And one that is as slanderous as Satan?
PAGE. And as poor as Job?
FORD. And as wicked as his wife?
EVANS. And given to fornications, and to taverns, and sack,
and wine, and metheglins, and to drinkings, and swearings,
and starings, pribbles and prabbles?
FALSTAFF. Well, I am your theme; you have the start of me;
I am dejected; I am not able to answer the Welsh flannel;
ignorance itself is a plummet o'er me; use me as you will.
FORD. Marry, sir, we'll bring you to Windsor, to one Master
Brook, that you have cozen'd of money, to whom you
should have been a pander. Over and above that you have
suffer'd, I think to repay that money will be a biting
affliction.
PAGE. Yet be cheerful, knight; thou shalt eat a posset
tonight at my house, where I will desire thee to laugh at my
wife, that now laughs at thee. Tell her Master Slender hath
married her daughter.
MRS. PAGE. [Aside] Doctors doubt that; if Anne Page be
my daughter, she is, by this, Doctor Caius' wife.
Enter SLENDER
SLENDER. Whoa, ho, ho, father Page!
PAGE. Son, how now! how now, son! Have you dispatch'd'?
SLENDER. Dispatch'd! I'll make the best in Gloucestershire
know on't; would I were hang'd, la, else!
PAGE. Of what, son?
SLENDER. I came yonder at Eton to marry Mistress Anne
Page, and she's a great lubberly boy. If it had not been i'
th' church, I would have swing'd him, or he should have
swing'd me. If I did not think it had been Anne Page,
would I might never stir!-and 'tis a postmaster's boy.
PAGE. Upon my life, then, you took the wrong.
SLENDER. What need you tell me that? I think so, when I
took a boy for a girl. If I had been married to him, for all
he was in woman's apparel, I would not have had him.
PAGE. Why, this is your own folly. Did not I tell you how
you should know my daughter by her garments?
SLENDER. I went to her in white and cried 'mum' and she
cried 'budget' as Anne and I had appointed; and yet it was
not Anne, but a postmaster's boy.
MRS. PAGE. Good George, be not angry. I knew of your
purpose; turn'd my daughter into green; and, indeed, she
is now with the Doctor at the dean'ry, and there married.
Enter CAIUS
CAIUS. Vere is Mistress Page? By gar, I am cozened; I ha'
married un garcon, a boy; un paysan, by gar, a boy; it is
not Anne Page; by gar, I am cozened.
MRS. PAGE. Why, did you take her in green?
CAIUS. Ay, be gar, and 'tis a boy; be gar, I'll raise all
Windsor. Exit CAIUS
FORD. This is strange. Who hath got the right Anne?
PAGE. My heart misgives me; here comes Master Fenton.
Enter FENTON and ANNE PAGE
How now, Master Fenton!
ANNE. Pardon, good father. Good my mother, pardon.
PAGE. Now, Mistress, how chance you went not with Master
Slender?
MRS. PAGE. Why went you not with Master Doctor, maid?
FENTON. You do amaze her. Hear the truth of it.
You would have married her most shamefully,
Where there was no proportion held in love.
The truth is, she and I, long since contracted,
Are now so sure that nothing can dissolve us.
Th' offence is holy that she hath committed;
And this deceit loses the name of craft,
Of disobedience, or unduteous title,
Since therein she doth evitate and shun
A thousand irreligious cursed hours,
Which forced marriage would have brought upon her.
FORD. Stand not amaz'd; here is no remedy.
In love, the heavens themselves do guide the state;
Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate.
FALSTAFF. I am glad, though you have ta'en a special stand
to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanc'd.
PAGE. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heaven give thee joy!
What cannot be eschew'd must be embrac'd.
FALSTAFF. When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are chas'd.
MRS. PAGE. Well, I will muse no further. Master Fenton,
Heaven give you many, many merry days!
Good husband, let us every one go home,
And laugh this sport o'er by a country fire;
Sir John and all.
FORD. Let it be so. Sir John,
To Master Brook you yet shall hold your word;
For he, to-night, shall lie with Mistress Ford. Exeunt
THE END
<>
1596
A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM
by William Shakespeare
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
THESEUS, Duke of Athens
EGEUS, father to Hermia
LYSANDER, in love with Hermia
DEMETRIUS, in love with Hermia
PHILOSTRATE, Master of the Revels to Theseus
QUINCE, a carpenter
SNUG, a joiner
BOTTOM, a weaver
FLUTE, a bellows-mender
SNOUT, a tinker
STARVELING, a tailor
HIPPOLYTA, Queen of the Amazons, bethrothed to Theseus
HERMIA, daughter to Egeus, in love with Lysander
HELENA, in love with Demetrius
OBERON, King of the Fairies
TITANIA, Queen of the Fairies
PUCK, or ROBIN GOODFELLOW
PEASEBLOSSOM, fairy
COBWEB, fairy
MOTH, fairy
MUSTARDSEED, fairy
PROLOGUE, PYRAMUS, THISBY, WALL, MOONSHINE, LION are presented by:
QUINCE, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, STARVELING, AND SNUG
Other Fairies attending their King and Queen
Attendants on Theseus and Hippolyta
<>
SCENE:
Athens and a wood near it
ACT I. SCENE I.
Athens. The palace of THESEUS
Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, and ATTENDANTS
THESEUS. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour
Draws on apace; four happy days bring in
Another moon; but, O, methinks, how slow
This old moon wanes! She lingers my desires,
Like to a step-dame or a dowager,
Long withering out a young man's revenue.
HIPPOLYTA. Four days will quickly steep themselves in night;
Four nights will quickly dream away the time;
And then the moon, like to a silver bow
New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night
Of our solemnities.
THESEUS. Go, Philostrate,
Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments;
Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth;
Turn melancholy forth to funerals;
The pale companion is not for our pomp. Exit PHILOSTRATE
Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword,
And won thy love doing thee injuries;
But I will wed thee in another key,
With pomp, with triumph, and with revelling.
Enter EGEUS, and his daughter HERMIA, LYSANDER,
and DEMETRIUS
EGEUS. Happy be Theseus, our renowned Duke!
THESEUS. Thanks, good Egeus; what's the news with thee?
EGEUS. Full of vexation come I, with complaint
Against my child, my daughter Hermia.
Stand forth, Demetrius. My noble lord,
This man hath my consent to marry her.
Stand forth, Lysander. And, my gracious Duke,
This man hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child.
Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes,
And interchang'd love-tokens with my child;
Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung,
With feigning voice, verses of feigning love,
And stol'n the impression of her fantasy
With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits,
Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats- messengers
Of strong prevailment in unhardened youth;
With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's heart;
Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me,
To stubborn harshness. And, my gracious Duke,
Be it so she will not here before your Grace
Consent to marry with Demetrius,
I beg the ancient privilege of Athens:
As she is mine I may dispose of her;
Which shall be either to this gentleman
Or to her death, according to our law
Immediately provided in that case.
THESEUS. What say you, Hermia? Be advis'd, fair maid.
To you your father should be as a god;
One that compos'd your beauties; yea, and one
To whom you are but as a form in wax,
By him imprinted, and within his power
To leave the figure, or disfigure it.
Demetrius is a worthy gentleman.
HERMIA. So is Lysander.
THESEUS. In himself he is;
But, in this kind, wanting your father's voice,
The other must be held the worthier.
HERMIA. I would my father look'd but with my eyes.
THESEUS. Rather your eyes must with his judgment look.
HERMIA. I do entreat your Grace to pardon me.
I know not by what power I am made bold,
Nor how it may concern my modesty
In such a presence here to plead my thoughts;
But I beseech your Grace that I may know
The worst that may befall me in this case,
If I refuse to wed Demetrius.
THESEUS. Either to die the death, or to abjure
For ever the society of men.
Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires,
Know of your youth, examine well your blood,
Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice,
You can endure the livery of a nun,
For aye to be shady cloister mew'd,
To live a barren sister all your life,
Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.
Thrice-blessed they that master so their blood
To undergo such maiden pilgrimage;
But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd
Than that which withering on the virgin thorn
Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness.
HERMIA. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord,
Ere I will yield my virgin patent up
Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke
My soul consents not to give sovereignty.
THESEUS. Take time to pause; and by the next new moon-
The sealing-day betwixt my love and me
For everlasting bond of fellowship-
Upon that day either prepare to die
For disobedience to your father's will,
Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would,
Or on Diana's altar to protest
For aye austerity and single life.
DEMETRIUS. Relent, sweet Hermia; and, Lysander, yield
Thy crazed title to my certain right.
LYSANDER. You have her father's love, Demetrius;
Let me have Hermia's; do you marry him.
EGEUS. Scornful Lysander, true, he hath my love;
And what is mine my love shall render him;
And she is mine; and all my right of her
I do estate unto Demetrius.
LYSANDER. I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he,
As well possess'd; my love is more than his;
My fortunes every way as fairly rank'd,
If not with vantage, as Demetrius';
And, which is more than all these boasts can be,
I am belov'd of beauteous Hermia.
Why should not I then prosecute my right?
Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head,
Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena,
And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes,
Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry,
Upon this spotted and inconstant man.
THESEUS. I must confess that I have heard so much,
And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof;
But, being over-full of self-affairs,
My mind did lose it. But, Demetrius, come;
And come, Egeus; you shall go with me;
I have some private schooling for you both.
For you, fair Hermia, look you arm yourself
To fit your fancies to your father's will,
Or else the law of Athens yields you up-
Which by no means we may extenuate-
To death, or to a vow of single life.
Come, my Hippolyta; what cheer, my love?
Demetrius, and Egeus, go along;
I must employ you in some business
Against our nuptial, and confer with you
Of something nearly that concerns yourselves.
EGEUS. With duty and desire we follow you.
Exeunt all but LYSANDER and HERMIA
LYSANDER. How now, my love! Why is your cheek so pale?
How chance the roses there do fade so fast?
HERMIA. Belike for want of rain, which I could well
Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes.
LYSANDER. Ay me! for aught that I could ever read,
Could ever hear by tale or history,
The course of true love never did run smooth;
But either it was different in blood-
HERMIA. O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to low.
LYSANDER. Or else misgraffed in respect of years-
HERMIA. O spite! too old to be engag'd to young.
LYSANDER. Or else it stood upon the choice of friends-
HERMIA. O hell! to choose love by another's eyes.
LYSANDER. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness, did lay siege to it,
Making it momentary as a sound,
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream,
Brief as the lightning in the collied night
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
And ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!'
The jaws of darkness do devour it up;
So quick bright things come to confusion.
HERMIA. If then true lovers have ever cross'd,
It stands as an edict in destiny.
Then let us teach our trial patience,
Because it is a customary cross,
As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs,
Wishes and tears, poor Fancy's followers.
LYSANDER. A good persuasion; therefore, hear me, Hermia.
I have a widow aunt, a dowager
Of great revenue, and she hath no child-
From Athens is her house remote seven leagues-
And she respects me as her only son.
There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee;
And to that place the sharp Athenian law
Cannot pursue us. If thou lovest me then,
Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night;
And in the wood, a league without the town,
Where I did meet thee once with Helena
To do observance to a morn of May,
There will I stay for thee.
HERMIA. My good Lysander!
I swear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow,
By his best arrow, with the golden head,
By the simplicity of Venus' doves,
By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves,
And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage Queen,
When the false Troyan under sail was seen,
By all the vows that ever men have broke,
In number more than ever women spoke,
In that same place thou hast appointed me,
To-morrow truly will I meet with thee.
LYSANDER. Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helena.
Enter HELENA
HERMIA. God speed fair Helena! Whither away?
HELENA. Call you me fair? That fair again unsay.
Demetrius loves your fair. O happy fair!
Your eyes are lode-stars and your tongue's sweet air
More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear,
When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.
Sickness is catching; O, were favour so,
Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go!
My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye,
My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody.
Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,
The rest I'd give to be to you translated.
O, teach me how you look, and with what art
You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart!
HERMIA. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still.
HELENA. O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill!
HERMIA. I give him curses, yet he gives me love.
HELENA. O that my prayers could such affection move!
HERMIA. The more I hate, the more he follows me.
HELENA. The more I love, the more he hateth me.
HERMIA. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine.
HELENA. None, but your beauty; would that fault were mine!
HERMIA. Take comfort: he no more shall see my face;
Lysander and myself will fly this place.
Before the time I did Lysander see,
Seem'd Athens as a paradise to me.
O, then, what graces in my love do dwell,
That he hath turn'd a heaven unto a hell!
LYSANDER. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold:
To-morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold
Her silver visage in the wat'ry glass,
Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass,
A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal,
Through Athens' gates have we devis'd to steal.
HERMIA. And in the wood where often you and I
Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lie,
Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet,
There my Lysander and myself shall meet;
And thence from Athens turn away our eyes,
To seek new friends and stranger companies.
Farewell, sweet playfellow; pray thou for us,
And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius!
Keep word, Lysander; we must starve our sight
From lovers' food till morrow deep midnight.
LYSANDER. I will, my Hermia. [Exit HERMIA] Helena, adieu;
As you on him, Demetrius dote on you. Exit
HELENA. How happy some o'er other some can be!
Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.
But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so;
He will not know what all but he do know.
And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes,
So I, admiring of his qualities.
Things base and vile, holding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind.
Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste;
Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste;
And therefore is Love said to be a child,
Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd.
As waggish boys in game themselves forswear,
So the boy Love is perjur'd everywhere;
For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne,
He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine;
And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt,
So he dissolv'd, and show'rs of oaths did melt.
I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight;
Then to the wood will he to-morrow night
Pursue her; and for this intelligence
If I have thanks, it is a dear expense.
But herein mean I to enrich my pain,
To have his sight thither and back again. Exit
SCENE II.
Athens. QUINCE'S house
Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING
QUINCE. Is all our company here?
BOTTOM. You were best to call them generally, man by man, according
to the scrip.
QUINCE. Here is the scroll of every man's name which is thought
fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the Duke
and the Duchess on his wedding-day at night.
BOTTOM. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on; then
read the names of the actors; and so grow to a point.
QUINCE. Marry, our play is 'The most Lamentable Comedy and most
Cruel Death of Pyramus and Thisby.'
BOTTOM. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry. Now,
good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll. Masters,
spread yourselves.
QUINCE. Answer, as I call you. Nick Bottom, the weaver.
BOTTOM. Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed.
QUINCE. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus.
BOTTOM. What is Pyramus? A lover, or a tyrant?
QUINCE. A lover, that kills himself most gallant for love.
BOTTOM. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it. If I
do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move storms; I
will condole in some measure. To the rest- yet my chief humour is
for a tyrant. I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat
in, to make all split.
'The raging rocks
And shivering shocks
Shall break the locks
Of prison gates;
And Phibbus' car
Shall shine from far,
And make and mar
The foolish Fates.'
This was lofty. Now name the rest of the players. This is
Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein: a lover is more condoling.
QUINCE. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender.
FLUTE. Here, Peter Quince.
QUINCE. Flute, you must take Thisby on you.
FLUTE. What is Thisby? A wand'ring knight?
QUINCE. It is the lady that Pyramus must love.
FLUTE. Nay, faith, let not me play a woman; I have a beard coming.
QUINCE. That's all one; you shall play it in a mask, and you may
speak as small as you will.
BOTTOM. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too.
I'll speak in a monstrous little voice: 'Thisne, Thisne!'
[Then speaking small] 'Ah Pyramus, my lover dear! Thy
Thisby dear, and lady dear!'
QUINCE. No, no, you must play Pyramus; and, Flute, you Thisby.
BOTTOM. Well, proceed.
QUINCE. Robin Starveling, the tailor.
STARVELING. Here, Peter Quince.
QUINCE. Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother.
Tom Snout, the tinker.
SNOUT. Here, Peter Quince.
QUINCE. You, Pyramus' father; myself, Thisby's father; Snug, the
joiner, you, the lion's part. And, I hope, here is a play fitted.
SNUG. Have you the lion's part written? Pray you, if it be, give it
me, for I am slow of study.
QUINCE. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring.
BOTTOM. Let me play the lion too. I will roar that I will do any
man's heart good to hear me; I will roar that I will make the
Duke say 'Let him roar again, let him roar again.'
QUINCE. An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the
Duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek; and that were
enough to hang us all.
ALL. That would hang us, every mother's son.
BOTTOM. I grant you, friends, if you should fright the ladies out
of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us;
but I will aggravate my voice so, that I will roar you as gently
as any sucking dove; I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale.
QUINCE. You can play no part but Pyramus; for Pyramus is a
sweet-fac'd man; a proper man, as one shall see in a summer's
day; a most lovely gentleman-like man; therefore you must needs
play Pyramus.
BOTTOM. Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to play
it in?
QUINCE. Why, what you will.
BOTTOM. I will discharge it in either your straw-colour beard, your
orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your
French-crown-colour beard, your perfect yellow.
QUINCE. Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then
you will play bare-fac'd. But, masters, here are your parts; and
I am to entreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them by
to-morrow night; and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without
the town, by moonlight; there will we rehearse; for if we meet in
the city, we shall be dogg'd with company, and our devices known.
In the meantime I will draw a bill of properties, such as our
play wants. I pray you, fail me not.
BOTTOM. We will meet; and there we may rehearse most obscenely and
courageously. Take pains; be perfect; adieu.
QUINCE. At the Duke's oak we meet.
BOTTOM. Enough; hold, or cut bow-strings. Exeunt
<>
ACT II. SCENE I.
A wood near Athens
Enter a FAIRY at One door, and PUCK at another
PUCK. How now, spirit! whither wander you?
FAIRY. Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander every where,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the Fairy Queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green.
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours.
I must go seek some dewdrops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone.
Our Queen and all her elves come here anon.
PUCK. The King doth keep his revels here to-night;
Take heed the Queen come not within his sight;
For Oberon is passing fell and wrath,
Because that she as her attendant hath
A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king.
She never had so sweet a changeling;
And jealous Oberon would have the child
Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild;
But she perforce withholds the loved boy,
Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy.
And now they never meet in grove or green,
By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen,
But they do square, that all their elves for fear
Creep into acorn cups and hide them there.
FAIRY. Either I mistake your shape and making quite,
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite
Call'd Robin Goodfellow. Are not you he
That frights the maidens of the villagery,
Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern,
And bootless make the breathless housewife churn,
And sometime make the drink to bear no barm,
Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm?
Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck,
You do their work, and they shall have good luck.
Are not you he?
PUCK. Thou speakest aright:
I am that merry wanderer of the night.
I jest to Oberon, and make him smile
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likeness of a filly foal;
And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl
In very likeness of a roasted crab,
And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob,
And on her withered dewlap pour the ale.
The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale,
Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me;
Then slip I from her bum, down topples she,
And 'tailor' cries, and falls into a cough;
And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh,
And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear
A merrier hour was never wasted there.
But room, fairy, here comes Oberon.
FAIRY. And here my mistress. Would that he were gone!
Enter OBERON at one door, with his TRAIN, and TITANIA,
at another, with hers
OBERON. Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania.
TITANIA. What, jealous Oberon! Fairies, skip hence;
I have forsworn his bed and company.
OBERON. Tarry, rash wanton; am not I thy lord?
TITANIA. Then I must be thy lady; but I know
When thou hast stolen away from fairy land,
And in the shape of Corin sat all day,
Playing on pipes of corn, and versing love
To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here,
Come from the farthest steep of India,
But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon,
Your buskin'd mistress and your warrior love,
To Theseus must be wedded, and you come
To give their bed joy and prosperity?
OBERON. How canst thou thus, for shame, Titania,
Glance at my credit with Hippolyta,
Knowing I know thy love to Theseus?
Didst not thou lead him through the glimmering night
From Perigouna, whom he ravished?
And make him with fair Aegles break his faith,
With Ariadne and Antiopa?
TITANIA. These are the forgeries of jealousy;
And never, since the middle summer's spring,
Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead,
By paved fountain, or by rushy brook,
Or in the beached margent of the sea,
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,
But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport.
Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain,
As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea
Contagious fogs; which, falling in the land,
Hath every pelting river made so proud
That they have overborne their continents.
The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain,
The ploughman lost his sweat, and the green corn
Hath rotted ere his youth attain'd a beard;
The fold stands empty in the drowned field,
And crows are fatted with the murrion flock;
The nine men's morris is fill'd up with mud,
And the quaint mazes in the wanton green,
For lack of tread, are undistinguishable.
The human mortals want their winter here;
No night is now with hymn or carol blest;
Therefore the moon, the governess of floods,
Pale in her anger, washes all the air,
That rheumatic diseases do abound.
And thorough this distemperature we see
The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose;
And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown
An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds
Is, as in mockery, set. The spring, the summer,
The childing autumn, angry winter, change
Their wonted liveries; and the mazed world,
By their increase, now knows not which is which.
And this same progeny of evils comes
From our debate, from our dissension;
We are their parents and original.
OBERON. Do you amend it, then; it lies in you.
Why should Titania cross her Oberon?
I do but beg a little changeling boy
To be my henchman.
TITANIA. Set your heart at rest;
The fairy land buys not the child of me.
His mother was a vot'ress of my order;
And, in the spiced Indian air, by night,
Full often hath she gossip'd by my side;
And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands,
Marking th' embarked traders on the flood;
When we have laugh'd to see the sails conceive,
And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind;
Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait
Following- her womb then rich with my young squire-
Would imitate, and sail upon the land,
To fetch me trifles, and return again,
As from a voyage, rich with merchandise.
But she, being mortal, of that boy did die;
And for her sake do I rear up her boy;
And for her sake I will not part with him.
OBERON. How long within this wood intend you stay?
TITANIA. Perchance till after Theseus' wedding-day.
If you will patiently dance in our round,
And see our moonlight revels, go with us;
If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts.
OBERON. Give me that boy and I will go with thee.
TITANIA. Not for thy fairy kingdom. Fairies, away.
We shall chide downright if I longer stay.
Exit TITANIA with her train
OBERON. Well, go thy way; thou shalt not from this grove
Till I torment thee for this injury.
My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou rememb'rest
Since once I sat upon a promontory,
And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath
That the rude sea grew civil at her song,
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres
To hear the sea-maid's music.
PUCK. I remember.
OBERON. That very time I saw, but thou couldst not,
Flying between the cold moon and the earth
Cupid, all arm'd; a certain aim he took
At a fair vestal, throned by the west,
And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from his bow,
As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts;
But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft
Quench'd in the chaste beams of the wat'ry moon;
And the imperial vot'ress passed on,
In maiden meditation, fancy-free.
Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell.
It fell upon a little western flower,
Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound,
And maidens call it Love-in-idleness.
Fetch me that flow'r, the herb I showed thee once.
The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid
Will make or man or woman madly dote
Upon the next live creature that it sees.
Fetch me this herb, and be thou here again
Ere the leviathan can swim a league.
PUCK. I'll put a girdle round about the earth
In forty minutes. Exit PUCK
OBERON. Having once this juice,
I'll watch Titania when she is asleep,
And drop the liquor of it in her eyes;
The next thing then she waking looks upon,
Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull,
On meddling monkey, or on busy ape,
She shall pursue it with the soul of love.
And ere I take this charm from off her sight,
As I can take it with another herb,
I'll make her render up her page to me.
But who comes here? I am invisible;
And I will overhear their conference.
Enter DEMETRIUS, HELENA following him
DEMETRIUS. I love thee not, therefore pursue me not.
Where is Lysander and fair Hermia?
The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me.
Thou told'st me they were stol'n unto this wood,
And here am I, and wood within this wood,
Because I cannot meet my Hermia.
Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more.
HELENA. You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant;
But yet you draw not iron, for my heart
Is true as steel. Leave you your power to draw,
And I shall have no power to follow you.
DEMETRIUS. Do I entice you? Do I speak you fair?
Or, rather, do I not in plainest truth
Tell you I do not nor I cannot love you?
HELENA. And even for that do I love you the more.
I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius,
The more you beat me, I will fawn on you.
Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me,
Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave,
Unworthy as I am, to follow you.
What worser place can I beg in your love,
And yet a place of high respect with me,
Than to be used as you use your dog?
DEMETRIUS. Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit;
For I am sick when I do look on thee.
HELENA. And I am sick when I look not on you.
DEMETRIUS. You do impeach your modesty too much
To leave the city and commit yourself
Into the hands of one that loves you not;
To trust the opportunity of night,
And the ill counsel of a desert place,
With the rich worth of your virginity.
HELENA. Your virtue is my privilege for that:
It is not night when I do see your face,
Therefore I think I am not in the night;
Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company,
For you, in my respect, are all the world.
Then how can it be said I am alone
When all the world is here to look on me?
DEMETRIUS. I'll run from thee and hide me in the brakes,
And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts.
HELENA. The wildest hath not such a heart as you.
Run when you will; the story shall be chang'd:
Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase;
The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind
Makes speed to catch the tiger- bootless speed,
When cowardice pursues and valour flies.
DEMETRIUS. I will not stay thy questions; let me go;
Or, if thou follow me, do not believe
But I shall do thee mischief in the wood.
HELENA. Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field,
You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius!
Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex.
We cannot fight for love as men may do;
We should be woo'd, and were not made to woo.
Exit DEMETRIUS
I'll follow thee, and make a heaven of hell,
To die upon the hand I love so well. Exit HELENA
OBERON. Fare thee well, nymph; ere he do leave this grove,
Thou shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy love.
Re-enter PUCK
Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer.
PUCK. Ay, there it is.
OBERON. I pray thee give it me.
I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine;
There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,
Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight;
And there the snake throws her enamell'd skin,
Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in;
And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes,
And make her full of hateful fantasies.
Take thou some of it, and seek through this grove:
A sweet Athenian lady is in love
With a disdainful youth; anoint his eyes;
But do it when the next thing he espies
May be the lady. Thou shalt know the man
By the Athenian garments he hath on.
Effect it with some care, that he may prove
More fond on her than she upon her love.
And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow.
PUCK. Fear not, my lord; your servant shall do so. Exeunt
SCENE II.
Another part of the wood
Enter TITANIA, with her train
TITANIA. Come now, a roundel and a fairy song;
Then, for the third part of a minute, hence:
Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds;
Some war with rere-mice for their leathern wings,
To make my small elves coats; and some keep back
The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wonders
At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep;
Then to your offices, and let me rest.
The FAIRIES Sing
FIRST FAIRY. You spotted snakes with double tongue,
Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;
Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong,
Come not near our fairy Queen.
CHORUS. Philomel with melody
Sing in our sweet lullaby.
Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby.
Never harm
Nor spell nor charm
Come our lovely lady nigh.
So good night, with lullaby.
SECOND FAIRY. Weaving spiders, come not here;
Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence.
Beetles black, approach not near;
Worm nor snail do no offence.
CHORUS. Philomel with melody, etc. [TITANIA Sleeps]
FIRST FAIRY. Hence away; now all is well.
One aloof stand sentinel. Exeunt FAIRIES
Enter OBERON and squeezes the flower on TITANIA'S eyelids
OBERON. What thou seest when thou dost wake,
Do it for thy true-love take;
Love and languish for his sake.
Be it ounce, or cat, or bear,
Pard, or boar with bristled hair,
In thy eye that shall appear
When thou wak'st, it is thy dear.
Wake when some vile thing is near. Exit
Enter LYSANDER and HERMIA
LYSANDER. Fair love, you faint with wand'ring in the wood;
And, to speak troth, I have forgot our way;
We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good,
And tarry for the comfort of the day.
HERMIA. Be it so, Lysander: find you out a bed,
For I upon this bank will rest my head.
LYSANDER. One turf shall serve as pillow for us both;
One heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth.
HERMIA. Nay, good Lysander; for my sake, my dear,
Lie further off yet; do not lie so near.
LYSANDER. O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence!
Love takes the meaning in love's conference.
I mean that my heart unto yours is knit,
So that but one heart we can make of it;
Two bosoms interchained with an oath,
So then two bosoms and a single troth.
Then by your side no bed-room me deny,
For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie.
HERMIA. Lysander riddles very prettily.
Now much beshrew my manners and my pride,
If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied!
But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy
Lie further off, in human modesty;
Such separation as may well be said
Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid,
So far be distant; and good night, sweet friend.
Thy love ne'er alter till thy sweet life end!
LYSANDER. Amen, amen, to that fair prayer say I;
And then end life when I end loyalty!
Here is my bed; sleep give thee all his rest!
HERMIA. With half that wish the wisher's eyes be press'd!
[They sleep]
Enter PUCK
PUCK. Through the forest have I gone,
But Athenian found I none
On whose eyes I might approve
This flower's force in stirring love.
Night and silence- Who is here?
Weeds of Athens he doth wear:
This is he, my master said,
Despised the Athenian maid;
And here the maiden, sleeping sound,
On the dank and dirty ground.
Pretty soul! she durst not lie
Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy.
Churl, upon thy eyes I throw
All the power this charm doth owe:
When thou wak'st let love forbid
Sleep his seat on thy eyelid.
So awake when I am gone;
For I must now to Oberon. Exit
Enter DEMETRIUS and HELENA, running
HELENA. Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius.
DEMETRIUS. I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.
HELENA. O, wilt thou darkling leave me? Do not so.
DEMETRIUS. Stay on thy peril; I alone will go. Exit
HELENA. O, I am out of breath in this fond chase!
The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace.
Happy is Hermia, wheresoe'er she lies,
For she hath blessed and attractive eyes.
How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears;
If so, my eyes are oft'ner wash'd than hers.
No, no, I am as ugly as a bear,
For beasts that meet me run away for fear;
Therefore no marvel though Demetrius
Do, as a monster, fly my presence thus.
What wicked and dissembling glass of mine
Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne?
But who is here? Lysander! on the ground!
Dead, or asleep? I see no blood, no wound.
Lysander, if you live, good sir, awake.
LYSANDER. [Waking] And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake.
Transparent Helena! Nature shows art,
That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart.
Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word
Is that vile name to perish on my sword!
HELENA. Do not say so, Lysander; say not so.
What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though?
Yet Hermia still loves you; then be content.
LYSANDER. Content with Hermia! No: I do repent
The tedious minutes I with her have spent.
Not Hermia but Helena I love:
Who will not change a raven for a dove?
The will of man is by his reason sway'd,
And reason says you are the worthier maid.
Things growing are not ripe until their season;
So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason;
And touching now the point of human skill,
Reason becomes the marshal to my will,
And leads me to your eyes, where I o'erlook
Love's stories, written in Love's richest book.
HELENA. Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born?
When at your hands did I deserve this scorn?
Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man,
That I did never, no, nor never can,
Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye,
But you must flout my insufficiency?
Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you do,
In such disdainful manner me to woo.
But fare you well; perforce I must confess
I thought you lord of more true gentleness.
O, that a lady of one man refus'd
Should of another therefore be abus'd! Exit
LYSANDER. She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there;
And never mayst thou come Lysander near!
For, as a surfeit of the sweetest things
The deepest loathing to the stomach brings,
Or as the heresies that men do leave
Are hated most of those they did deceive,
So thou, my surfeit and my heresy,
Of all be hated, but the most of me!
And, all my powers, address your love and might
To honour Helen, and to be her knight! Exit
HERMIA. [Starting] Help me, Lysander, help me; do thy best
To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast.
Ay me, for pity! What a dream was here!
Lysander, look how I do quake with fear.
Methought a serpent eat my heart away,
And you sat smiling at his cruel prey.
Lysander! What, remov'd? Lysander! lord!
What, out of hearing gone? No sound, no word?
Alack, where are you? Speak, an if you hear;
Speak, of all loves! I swoon almost with fear.
No? Then I well perceive you are not nigh.
Either death or you I'll find immediately. Exit
<>
ACT III. SCENE I.
The wood. TITANIA lying asleep
Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING
BOTTOM. Are we all met?
QUINCE. Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our
rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn
brake our tiring-house; and we will do it in action, as we will
do it before the Duke.
BOTTOM. Peter Quince!
QUINCE. What sayest thou, bully Bottom?
BOTTOM. There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisby that
will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill
himself; which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that?
SNOUT. By'r lakin, a parlous fear.
STARVELING. I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is
done.
BOTTOM. Not a whit; I have a device to make all well. Write me a
prologue; and let the prologue seem to say we will do no harm
with our swords, and that Pyramus is not kill'd indeed; and for
the more better assurance, tell them that I Pyramus am not
Pyramus but Bottom the weaver. This will put them out of fear.
QUINCE. Well, we will have such a prologue; and it shall be written
in eight and six.
BOTTOM. No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight.
SNOUT. Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion?
STARVELING. I fear it, I promise you.
BOTTOM. Masters, you ought to consider with yourself to bring in-
God shield us!- a lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing; for
there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion living; and
we ought to look to't.
SNOUT. Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion.
BOTTOM. Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen
through the lion's neck; and he himself must speak through,
saying thus, or to the same defect: 'Ladies,' or 'Fair ladies, I
would wish you' or 'I would request you' or 'I would entreat you
not to fear, not to tremble. My life for yours! If you think I
come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life. No, I am no such
thing; I am a man as other men are.' And there, indeed, let him
name his name, and tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner.
QUINCE. Well, it shall be so. But there is two hard things- that
is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber; for, you know, Pyramus
and Thisby meet by moonlight.
SNOUT. Doth the moon shine that night we play our play?
BOTTOM. A calendar, a calendar! Look in the almanack; find out
moonshine, find out moonshine.
QUINCE. Yes, it doth shine that night.
BOTTOM. Why, then may you leave a casement of the great chamber
window, where we play, open; and the moon may shine in at the
casement.
QUINCE. Ay; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a
lantern, and say he comes to disfigure or to present the person
of Moonshine. Then there is another thing: we must have a wall in
the great chamber; for Pyramus and Thisby, says the story, did
talk through the chink of a wall.
SNOUT. You can never bring in a wall. What say you, Bottom?
BOTTOM. Some man or other must present Wall; and let him have some
plaster, or some loam, or some rough-cast about him, to signify
wall; and let him hold his fingers thus, and through that cranny
shall Pyramus and Thisby whisper.
QUINCE. If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit down, every
mother's son, and rehearse your parts. Pyramus, you begin; when
you have spoken your speech, enter into that brake; and so every
one according to his cue.
Enter PUCK behind
PUCK. What hempen homespuns have we swagg'ring here,
So near the cradle of the Fairy Queen?
What, a play toward! I'll be an auditor;
An actor too perhaps, if I see cause.
QUINCE. Speak, Pyramus. Thisby, stand forth.
BOTTOM. Thisby, the flowers of odious savours sweet-
QUINCE. 'Odious'- odorous!
BOTTOM. -odours savours sweet;
So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear.
But hark, a voice! Stay thou but here awhile,
And by and by I will to thee appear. Exit
PUCK. A stranger Pyramus than e'er played here! Exit
FLUTE. Must I speak now?
QUINCE. Ay, marry, must you; for you must understand he goes but to
see a noise that he heard, and is to come again.
FLUTE. Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue,
Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier,
Most brisky juvenal, and eke most lovely Jew,
As true as truest horse, that would never tire,
I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb.
QUINCE. 'Ninus' tomb,' man! Why, you must not speak that yet; that
you answer to Pyramus. You speak all your part at once, cues, and
all. Pyramus enter: your cue is past; it is 'never tire.'
FLUTE. O- As true as truest horse, that y et would never tire.
Re-enter PUCK, and BOTTOM with an ass's head
BOTTOM. If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine.
QUINCE. O monstrous! O strange! We are haunted. Pray, masters! fly,
masters! Help!
Exeunt all but BOTTOM and PUCK
PUCK. I'll follow you; I'll lead you about a round,
Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier;
Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound,
A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire;
And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn,
Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn.
Exit
BOTTOM. Why do they run away? This is a knavery of them to make me
afeard.
Re-enter SNOUT
SNOUT. O Bottom, thou art chang'd! What do I see on thee?
BOTTOM. What do you see? You see an ass-head of your own, do you?
Exit SNOUT
Re-enter QUINCE
QUINCE. Bless thee, Bottom, bless thee! Thou art translated.
Exit
BOTTOM. I see their knavery: this is to make an ass of me; to
fright me, if they could. But I will not stir from this place, do
what they can; I will walk up and down here, and will sing, that
they shall hear I am not afraid. [Sings]
The ousel cock, so black of hue,
With orange-tawny bill,
The throstle with his note so true,
The wren with little quill.
TITANIA. What angel wakes me from my flow'ry bed?
BOTTOM. [Sings]
The finch, the sparrow, and the lark,
The plain-song cuckoo grey,
Whose note full many a man doth mark,
And dares not answer nay-
for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird?
Who would give a bird the he, though he cry 'cuckoo' never so?
TITANIA. I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again.
Mine ear is much enamoured of thy note;
So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape;
And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me,
On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee.
BOTTOM. Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that.
And yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company
together now-a-days. The more the pity that some honest
neighbours will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek upon
occasion.
TITANIA. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.
BOTTOM. Not so, neither; but if I had wit enough to get out of this
wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn.
TITANIA. Out of this wood do not desire to go;
Thou shalt remain here whether thou wilt or no.
I am a spirit of no common rate;
The summer still doth tend upon my state;
And I do love thee; therefore, go with me.
I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee;
And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep,
And sing, while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep;
And I will purge thy mortal grossness so
That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.
Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustardseed!
Enter PEASEBLOSSOM, COBWEB, MOTH, and MUSTARDSEED
PEASEBLOSSOM. Ready.
COBWEB. And I.
MOTH. And I.
MUSTARDSEED. And I.
ALL. Where shall we go?
TITANIA. Be kind and courteous to this gentleman;
Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes;
Feed him with apricocks and dewberries,
With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries;
The honey bags steal from the humble-bees,
And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs,
And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes,
To have my love to bed and to arise;
And pluck the wings from painted butterflies,
To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.
Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.
PEASEBLOSSOM. Hail, mortal!
COBWEB. Hail!
MOTH. Hail!
MUSTARDSEED. Hail!
BOTTOM. I cry your worships mercy, heartily; I beseech your
worship's name.
COBWEB. Cobweb.
BOTTOM. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master
Cobweb. If I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you. Your
name, honest gentleman?
PEASEBLOSSOM. Peaseblossom.
BOTTOM. I pray you, commend me to Mistress Squash, your mother, and
to Master Peascod, your father. Good Master Peaseblossom, I shall
desire you of more acquaintance too. Your name, I beseech you,
sir?
MUSTARDSEED. Mustardseed.
BOTTOM. Good Master Mustardseed, I know your patience well. That
same cowardly giant-like ox-beef hath devour'd many a gentleman
of your house. I promise you your kindred hath made my eyes water
ere now. I desire you of more acquaintance, good Master
Mustardseed.
TITANIA. Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower.
The moon, methinks, looks with a wat'ry eye;
And when she weeps, weeps every little flower;
Lamenting some enforced chastity.
Tie up my love's tongue, bring him silently. Exeunt
SCENE II.
Another part of the wood
Enter OBERON
OBERON. I wonder if Titania be awak'd;
Then, what it was that next came in her eye,
Which she must dote on in extremity.
Enter PUCK
Here comes my messenger. How now, mad spirit!
What night-rule now about this haunted grove?
PUCK. My mistress with a monster is in love.
Near to her close and consecrated bower,
While she was in her dull and sleeping hour,
A crew of patches, rude mechanicals,
That work for bread upon Athenian stalls,
Were met together to rehearse a play
Intended for great Theseus' nuptial day.
The shallowest thickskin of that barren sort,
Who Pyramus presented, in their sport
Forsook his scene and ent'red in a brake;
When I did him at this advantage take,
An ass's nole I fixed on his head.
Anon his Thisby must be answered,
And forth my mimic comes. When they him spy,
As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye,
Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort,
Rising and cawing at the gun's report,
Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky,
So at his sight away his fellows fly;
And at our stamp here, o'er and o'er one falls;
He murder cries, and help from Athens calls.
Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears thus strong,
Made senseless things begin to do them wrong,
For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch;
Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders all things catch.
I led them on in this distracted fear,
And left sweet Pyramus translated there;
When in that moment, so it came to pass,
Titania wak'd, and straightway lov'd an ass.
OBERON. This falls out better than I could devise.
But hast thou yet latch'd the Athenian's eyes
With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do?
PUCK. I took him sleeping- that is finish'd too-
And the Athenian woman by his side;
That, when he wak'd, of force she must be ey'd.
Enter DEMETRIUS and HERMIA
OBERON. Stand close; this is the same Athenian.
PUCK. This is the woman, but not this the man.
DEMETRIUS. O, why rebuke you him that loves you so?
Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
HERMIA. Now I but chide, but I should use thee worse,
For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse.
If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep,
Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep,
And kill me too.
The sun was not so true unto the day
As he to me. Would he have stolen away
From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon
This whole earth may be bor'd, and that the moon
May through the centre creep and so displease
Her brother's noontide with th' Antipodes.
It cannot be but thou hast murd'red him;
So should a murderer look- so dead, so grim.
DEMETRIUS. So should the murdered look; and so should I,
Pierc'd through the heart with your stern cruelty;
Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear,
As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere.
HERMIA. What's this to my Lysander? Where is he?
Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me?
DEMETRIUS. I had rather give his carcass to my hounds.
HERMIA. Out, dog! out, cur! Thou driv'st me past the bounds
Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him, then?
Henceforth be never numb'red among men!
O, once tell true; tell true, even for my sake!
Durst thou have look'd upon him being awake,
And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O brave touch!
Could not a worm, an adder, do so much?
An adder did it; for with doubler tongue
Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung.
DEMETRIUS. You spend your passion on a mispris'd mood:
I am not guilty of Lysander's blood;
Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell.
HERMIA. I pray thee, tell me then that he is well.
DEMETRIUS. An if I could, what should I get therefore?
HERMIA. A privilege never to see me more.
And from thy hated presence part I so;
See me no more whether he be dead or no. Exit
DEMETRIUS. There is no following her in this fierce vein;
Here, therefore, for a while I will remain.
So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow
For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe;
Which now in some slight measure it will pay,
If for his tender here I make some stay. [Lies down]
OBERON. What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken quite,
And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight.
Of thy misprision must perforce ensue
Some true love turn'd, and not a false turn'd true.
PUCK. Then fate o'er-rules, that, one man holding troth,
A million fail, confounding oath on oath.
OBERON. About the wood go swifter than the wind,
And Helena of Athens look thou find;
All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer,
With sighs of love that costs the fresh blood dear.
By some illusion see thou bring her here;
I'll charm his eyes against she do appear.
PUCK. I go, I go; look how I go,
Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. Exit
OBERON. Flower of this purple dye,
Hit with Cupid's archery,
Sink in apple of his eye.
When his love he doth espy,
Let her shine as gloriously
As the Venus of the sky.
When thou wak'st, if she be by,
Beg of her for remedy.
Re-enter PUCK
PUCK. Captain of our fairy band,
Helena is here at hand,
And the youth mistook by me
Pleading for a lover's fee;
Shall we their fond pageant see?
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
OBERON. Stand aside. The noise they make
Will cause Demetrius to awake.
PUCK. Then will two at once woo one.
That must needs be sport alone;
And those things do best please me
That befall prepost'rously.
Enter LYSANDER and HELENA
LYSANDER. Why should you think that I should woo in scorn?
Scorn and derision never come in tears.
Look when I vow, I weep; and vows so born,
In their nativity all truth appears.
How can these things in me seem scorn to you,
Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?
HELENA. You do advance your cunning more and more.
When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray!
These vows are Hermia's. Will you give her o'er?
Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh:
Your vows to her and me, put in two scales,
Will even weigh; and both as light as tales.
LYSANDER. I hod no judgment when to her I swore.
HELENA. Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o'er.
LYSANDER. Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you.
DEMETRIUS. [Awaking] O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!
To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne?
Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show
Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow,
Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow
When thou hold'st up thy hand. O, let me kiss
This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!
HELENA. O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent
To set against me for your merriment.
If you were civil and knew courtesy,
You would not do me thus much injury.
Can you not hate me, as I know you do,
But you must join in souls to mock me too?
If you were men, as men you are in show,
You would not use a gentle lady so:
To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts,
When I am sure you hate me with your hearts.
You both are rivals, and love Hermia;
And now both rivals, to mock Helena.
A trim exploit, a manly enterprise,
To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes
With your derision! None of noble sort
Would so offend a virgin, and extort
A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport.
LYSANDER. You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so;
For you love Hermia. This you know I know;
And here, with all good will, with all my heart,
In Hermia's love I yield you up my part;
And yours of Helena to me bequeath,
Whom I do love and will do till my death.
HELENA. Never did mockers waste more idle breath.
DEMETRIUS. Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none.
If e'er I lov'd her, all that love is gone.
My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourn'd,
And now to Helen is it home return'd,
There to remain.
LYSANDER. Helen, it is not so.
DEMETRIUS. Disparage not the faith thou dost not know,
Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear.
Look where thy love comes; yonder is thy dear.
Enter HERMIA
HERMIA. Dark night, that from the eye his function takes,
The ear more quick of apprehension makes;
Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense,
It pays the hearing double recompense.
Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found;
Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound.
But why unkindly didst thou leave me so?
LYSANDER. Why should he stay whom love doth press to go?
HERMIA. What love could press Lysander from my side?
LYSANDER. Lysander's love, that would not let him bide-
Fair Helena, who more engilds the night
Than all yon fiery oes and eyes of light.
Why seek'st thou me? Could not this make thee know
The hate I bare thee made me leave thee so?
HERMIA. You speak not as you think; it cannot be.
HELENA. Lo, she is one of this confederacy!
Now I perceive they have conjoin'd all three
To fashion this false sport in spite of me.
Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid!
Have you conspir'd, have you with these contriv'd,
To bait me with this foul derision?
Is all the counsel that we two have shar'd,
The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent,
When we have chid the hasty-footed time
For parting us- O, is all forgot?
All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence?
We, Hermia, like two artificial gods,
Have with our needles created both one flower,
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,
Both warbling of one song, both in one key;
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds,
Had been incorporate. So we grew together,
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet an union in partition,
Two lovely berries moulded on one stern;
So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart;
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,
Due but to one, and crowned with one crest.
And will you rent our ancient love asunder,
To join with men in scorning your poor friend?
It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly;
Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it,
Though I alone do feel the injury.
HERMIA. I am amazed at your passionate words;
I scorn you not; it seems that you scorn me.
HELENA. Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn,
To follow me and praise my eyes and face?
And made your other love, Demetrius,
Who even but now did spurn me with his foot,
To call me goddess, nymph, divine, and rare,
Precious, celestial? Wherefore speaks he this
To her he hates? And wherefore doth Lysander
Deny your love, so rich within his soul,
And tender me, forsooth, affection,
But by your setting on, by your consent?
What though I be not so in grace as you,
So hung upon with love, so fortunate,
But miserable most, to love unlov'd?
This you should pity rather than despise.
HERMIA. I understand not what you mean by this.
HELENA. Ay, do- persever, counterfeit sad looks,
Make mouths upon me when I turn my back,
Wink each at other; hold the sweet jest up;
This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled.
If you have any pity, grace, or manners,
You would not make me such an argument.
But fare ye well; 'tis partly my own fault,
Which death, or absence, soon shall remedy.
LYSANDER. Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse;
My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena!
HELENA. O excellent!
HERMIA. Sweet, do not scorn her so.
DEMETRIUS. If she cannot entreat, I can compel.
LYSANDER. Thou canst compel no more than she entreat;
Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers
Helen, I love thee, by my life I do;
I swear by that which I will lose for thee
To prove him false that says I love thee not.
DEMETRIUS. I say I love thee more than he can do.
LYSANDER. If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too.
DEMETRIUS. Quick, come.
HERMIA. Lysander, whereto tends all this?
LYSANDER. Away, you Ethiope!
DEMETRIUS. No, no, he will
Seem to break loose- take on as you would follow,
But yet come not. You are a tame man; go!
LYSANDER. Hang off, thou cat, thou burr; vile thing, let loose,
Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent.
HERMIA. Why are you grown so rude? What change is this,
Sweet love?
LYSANDER. Thy love! Out, tawny Tartar, out!
Out, loathed med'cine! O hated potion, hence!
HERMIA. Do you not jest?
HELENA. Yes, sooth; and so do you.
LYSANDER. Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee.
DEMETRIUS. I would I had your bond; for I perceive
A weak bond holds you; I'll not trust your word.
LYSANDER. What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead?
Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so.
HERMIA. What! Can you do me greater harm than hate?
Hate me! wherefore? O me! what news, my love?
Am not I Hermia? Are not you Lysander?
I am as fair now as I was erewhile.
Since night you lov'd me; yet since night you left me.
Why then, you left me- O, the gods forbid!-
In earnest, shall I say?
LYSANDER. Ay, by my life!
And never did desire to see thee more.
Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt;
Be certain, nothing truer; 'tis no jest
That I do hate thee and love Helena.
HERMIA. O me! you juggler! you cankerblossom!
You thief of love! What! Have you come by night,
And stol'n my love's heart from him?
HELENA. Fine, i' faith!
Have you no modesty, no maiden shame,
No touch of bashfulness? What! Will you tear
Impatient answers from my gentle tongue?
Fie, fie! you counterfeit, you puppet you!
HERMIA. 'Puppet!' why so? Ay, that way goes the game.
Now I perceive that she hath made compare
Between our statures; she hath urg'd her height;
And with her personage, her tall personage,
Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him.
And are you grown so high in his esteem
Because I am so dwarfish and so low?
How low am I, thou painted maypole? Speak.
How low am I? I am not yet so low
But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes.
HELENA. I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen,
Let her not hurt me. I was never curst;
I have no gift at all in shrewishness;
I am a right maid for my cowardice;
Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think,
Because she is something lower than myself,
That I can match her.
HERMIA. 'Lower' hark, again.
HELENA. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me.
I evermore did love you, Hermia,
Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong'd you;
Save that, in love unto Demetrius,
I told him of your stealth unto this wood.
He followed you; for love I followed him;
But he hath chid me hence, and threat'ned me
To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too;
And now, so you will let me quiet go,
To Athens will I bear my folly back,
And follow you no further. Let me go.
You see how simple and how fond I am.
HERMIA. Why, get you gone! Who is't that hinders you?
HELENA. A foolish heart that I leave here behind.
HERMIA. What! with Lysander?
HELENA. With Demetrius.
LYSANDER. Be not afraid; she shall not harm thee, Helena.
DEMETRIUS. No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part.
HELENA. O, when she is angry, she is keen and shrewd;
She was a vixen when she went to school;
And, though she be but little, she is fierce.
HERMIA. 'Little' again! Nothing but 'low' and 'little'!
Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?
Let me come to her.
LYSANDER. Get you gone, you dwarf;
You minimus, of hind'ring knot-grass made;
You bead, you acorn.
DEMETRIUS. You are too officious
In her behalf that scorns your services.
Let her alone; speak not of Helena;
Take not her part; for if thou dost intend
Never so little show of love to her,
Thou shalt aby it.
LYSANDER. Now she holds me not.
Now follow, if thou dar'st, to try whose right,
Of thine or mine, is most in Helena.
DEMETRIUS. Follow! Nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jowl.
Exeunt LYSANDER and DEMETRIUS
HERMIA. You, mistress, all this coil is long of you.
Nay, go not back.
HELENA. I will not trust you, I;
Nor longer stay in your curst company.
Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray;
My legs are longer though, to run away. Exit
HERMIA. I am amaz'd, and know not what to say. Exit
OBERON. This is thy negligence. Still thou mistak'st,
Or else committ'st thy knaveries wilfully.
PUCK. Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook.
Did not you tell me I should know the man
By the Athenian garments he had on?
And so far blameless proves my enterprise
That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes;
And so far am I glad it so did sort,
As this their jangling I esteem a sport.
OBERON. Thou seest these lovers seek a place to fight.
Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night;
The starry welkin cover thou anon
With drooping fog as black as Acheron,
And lead these testy rivals so astray
As one come not within another's way.
Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue,
Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong;
And sometime rail thou like Demetrius;
And from each other look thou lead them thus,
Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep
With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep.
Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye;
Whose liquor hath this virtuous property,
To take from thence all error with his might
And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight.
When they next wake, all this derision
Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision;
And back to Athens shall the lovers wend
With league whose date till death shall never end.
Whiles I in this affair do thee employ,
I'll to my queen, and beg her Indian boy;
And then I will her charmed eye release
From monster's view, and all things shall be peace.
PUCK. My fairy lord, this must be done with haste,
For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast;
And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger,
At whose approach ghosts, wand'ring here and there,
Troop home to churchyards. Damned spirits all
That in cross-ways and floods have burial,
Already to their wormy beds are gone,
For fear lest day should look their shames upon;
They wilfully themselves exil'd from light,
And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night.
OBERON. But we are spirits of another sort:
I with the Morning's love have oft made sport;
And, like a forester, the groves may tread
Even till the eastern gate, all fiery red,
Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams,
Turns into yellow gold his salt green streams.
But, notwithstanding, haste, make no delay;
We may effect this business yet ere day. Exit OBERON
PUCK. Up and down, up and down,
I will lead them up and down.
I am fear'd in field and town.
Goblin, lead them up and down.
Here comes one.
Enter LYSANDER
LYSANDER. Where art thou, proud Demetrius? Speak thou now.
PUCK. Here, villain, drawn and ready. Where art thou?
LYSANDER. I will be with thee straight.
PUCK. Follow me, then,
To plainer ground. Exit LYSANDER as following the voice
Enter DEMETRIUS
DEMETRIUS. Lysander, speak again.
Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled?
Speak! In some bush? Where dost thou hide thy head?
PUCK. Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars,
Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars,
And wilt not come? Come, recreant, come, thou child;
I'll whip thee with a rod. He is defil'd
That draws a sword on thee.
DEMETRIUS. Yea, art thou there?
PUCK. Follow my voice; we'll try no manhood here. Exeunt
Re-enter LYSANDER
LYSANDER. He goes before me, and still dares me on;
When I come where he calls, then he is gone.
The villain is much lighter heel'd than I.
I followed fast, but faster he did fly,
That fallen am I in dark uneven way,
And here will rest me. [Lies down] Come, thou gentle day.
For if but once thou show me thy grey light,
I'll find Demetrius, and revenge this spite. [Sleeps]
Re-enter PUCK and DEMETRIUS
PUCK. Ho, ho, ho! Coward, why com'st thou not?
DEMETRIUS. Abide me, if thou dar'st; for well I wot
Thou run'st before me, shifting every place,
And dar'st not stand, nor look me in the face.
Where art thou now?
PUCK. Come hither; I am here.
DEMETRIUS. Nay, then, thou mock'st me. Thou shalt buy this dear,
If ever I thy face by daylight see;
Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth me
To measure out my length on this cold bed.
By day's approach look to be visited.
[Lies down and sleeps]
Enter HELENA
HELENA. O weary night, O long and tedious night,
Abate thy hours! Shine comforts from the east,
That I may back to Athens by daylight,
From these that my poor company detest.
And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye,
Steal me awhile from mine own company. [Sleeps]
PUCK. Yet but three? Come one more;
Two of both kinds makes up four.
Here she comes, curst and sad.
Cupid is a knavish lad,
Thus to make poor females mad.
Enter HERMIA
HERMIA. Never so weary, never so in woe,
Bedabbled with the dew, and torn with briers,
I can no further crawl, no further go;
My legs can keep no pace with my desires.
Here will I rest me till the break of day.
Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray!
[Lies down and sleeps]
PUCK. On the ground
Sleep sound;
I'll apply
To your eye,
Gentle lover, remedy.
[Squeezing the juice on LYSANDER'S eyes]
When thou wak'st,
Thou tak'st
True delight
In the sight
Of thy former lady's eye;
And the country proverb known,
That every man should take his own,
In your waking shall be shown:
Jack shall have Jill;
Nought shall go ill;
The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well.
Exit
<>
ACT IV. SCENE I.
The wood. LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HELENA, and HERMIA, lying asleep
Enter TITANIA and Bottom; PEASEBLOSSOM, COBWEB, MOTH, MUSTARDSEED,
and other FAIRIES attending;
OBERON behind, unseen
TITANIA. Come, sit thee down upon this flow'ry bed,
While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,
And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head,
And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy.
BOTTOM. Where's Peaseblossom?
PEASEBLOSSOM. Ready.
BOTTOM. Scratch my head, Peaseblossom.
Where's Mounsieur Cobweb?
COBWEB. Ready.
BOTTOM. Mounsieur Cobweb; good mounsieur, get you your weapons in
your hand and kill me a red-hipp'd humble-bee on the top of a
thistle; and, good mounsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret
yourself too much in the action, mounsieur; and, good mounsieur,
have a care the honey-bag break not; I would be loath to have you
overflown with a honey-bag, signior. Where's Mounsieur
Mustardseed?
MUSTARDSEED. Ready.
BOTTOM. Give me your neaf, Mounsieur Mustardseed. Pray you, leave
your curtsy, good mounsieur.
MUSTARDSEED. What's your will?
BOTTOM. Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help Cavalery Cobweb to
scratch. I must to the barber's, mounsieur; for methinks I am
marvellous hairy about the face; and I am such a tender ass, if
my hair do but tickle me I must scratch.
TITANIA. What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love?
BOTTOM. I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let's have the tongs
and the bones.
TITANIA. Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest to eat.
BOTTOM. Truly, a peck of provender; I could munch your good dry
oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay. Good
hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.
TITANIA. I have a venturous fairy that shall seek
The squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee new nuts.
BOTTOM. I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas. But, I
pray you, let none of your people stir me; I have an exposition
of sleep come upon me.
TITANIA. Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms.
Fairies, be gone, and be all ways away. Exeunt FAIRIES
So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle
Gently entwist; the female ivy so
Enrings the barky fingers of the elm.
O, how I love thee! how I dote on thee! [They sleep]
Enter PUCK
OBERON. [Advancing] Welcome, good Robin. Seest thou this sweet
sight?
Her dotage now I do begin to pity;
For, meeting her of late behind the wood,
Seeking sweet favours for this hateful fool,
I did upbraid her and fall out with her.
For she his hairy temples then had rounded
With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers;
And that same dew which sometime on the buds
Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls
Stood now within the pretty flowerets' eyes,
Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail.
When I had at my pleasure taunted her,
And she in mild terms begg'd my patience,
I then did ask of her her changeling child;
Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent
To bear him to my bower in fairy land.
And now I have the boy, I will undo
This hateful imperfection of her eyes.
And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp
From off the head of this Athenian swain,
That he awaking when the other do
May all to Athens back again repair,
And think no more of this night's accidents
But as the fierce vexation of a dream.
But first I will release the Fairy Queen.
[Touching her eyes]
Be as thou wast wont to be;
See as thou was wont to see.
Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower
Hath such force and blessed power.
Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen.
TITANIA. My Oberon! What visions have I seen!
Methought I was enamour'd of an ass.
OBERON. There lies your love.
TITANIA. How came these things to pass?
O, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now!
OBERON. Silence awhile. Robin, take off this head.
Titania, music call; and strike more dead
Than common sleep of all these five the sense.
TITANIA. Music, ho, music, such as charmeth sleep!
PUCK. Now when thou wak'st with thine own fool's eyes peep.
OBERON. Sound, music. Come, my Queen, take hands with me,
[Music]
And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.
Now thou and I are new in amity,
And will to-morrow midnight solemnly
Dance in Duke Theseus' house triumphantly,
And bless it to all fair prosperity.
There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be
Wedded, with Theseus, an in jollity.
PUCK. Fairy King, attend and mark;
I do hear the morning lark.
OBERON. Then, my Queen, in silence sad,
Trip we after night's shade.
We the globe can compass soon,
Swifter than the wand'ring moon.
TITANIA. Come, my lord; and in our flight,
Tell me how it came this night
That I sleeping here was found
With these mortals on the ground. Exeunt
To the winding of horns, enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA,
EGEUS, and train
THESEUS. Go, one of you, find out the forester;
For now our observation is perform'd,
And since we have the vaward of the day,
My love shall hear the music of my hounds.
Uncouple in the western valley; let them go.
Dispatch, I say, and find the forester. Exit an ATTENDANT
We will, fair Queen, up to the mountain's top,
And mark the musical confusion
Of hounds and echo in conjunction.
HIPPOLYTA. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once
When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear
With hounds of Sparta; never did I hear
Such gallant chiding, for, besides the groves,
The skies, the fountains, every region near
Seem'd all one mutual cry. I never heard
So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.
THESEUS. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,
So flew'd, so sanded; and their heads are hung
With ears that sweep away the morning dew;
Crook-knee'd and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls;
Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells,
Each under each. A cry more tuneable
Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn,
In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly.
Judge when you hear. But, soft, what nymphs are these?
EGEUS. My lord, this is my daughter here asleep,
And this Lysander, this Demetrius is,
This Helena, old Nedar's Helena.
I wonder of their being here together.
THESEUS. No doubt they rose up early to observe
The rite of May; and, hearing our intent,
Came here in grace of our solemnity.
But speak, Egeus; is not this the day
That Hermia should give answer of her choice?
EGEUS. It is, my lord.
THESEUS. Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns.
[Horns and shout within. The sleepers
awake and kneel to THESEUS]
Good-morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past;
Begin these wood-birds but to couple now?
LYSANDER. Pardon, my lord.
THESEUS. I pray you all, stand up.
I know you two are rival enemies;
How comes this gentle concord in the world
That hatred is so far from jealousy
To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity?
LYSANDER. My lord, I shall reply amazedly,
Half sleep, half waking; but as yet, I swear,
I cannot truly say how I came here,
But, as I think- for truly would I speak,
And now I do bethink me, so it is-
I came with Hermia hither. Our intent
Was to be gone from Athens, where we might,
Without the peril of the Athenian law-
EGEUS. Enough, enough, my Lord; you have enough;
I beg the law, the law upon his head.
They would have stol'n away, they would, Demetrius,
Thereby to have defeated you and me:
You of your wife, and me of my consent,
Of my consent that she should be your wife.
DEMETRIUS. My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth,
Of this their purpose hither to this wood;
And I in fury hither followed them,
Fair Helena in fancy following me.
But, my good lord, I wot not by what power-
But by some power it is- my love to Hermia,
Melted as the snow, seems to me now
As the remembrance of an idle gaud
Which in my childhood I did dote upon;
And all the faith, the virtue of my heart,
The object and the pleasure of mine eye,
Is only Helena. To her, my lord,
Was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia.
But, like a sickness, did I loathe this food;
But, as in health, come to my natural taste,
Now I do wish it, love it, long for it,
And will for evermore be true to it.
THESEUS. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met;
Of this discourse we more will hear anon.
Egeus, I will overbear your will;
For in the temple, by and by, with us
These couples shall eternally be knit.
And, for the morning now is something worn,
Our purpos'd hunting shall be set aside.
Away with us to Athens, three and three;
We'll hold a feast in great solemnity.
Come, Hippolyta.
Exeunt THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, EGEUS, and train
DEMETRIUS. These things seem small and undistinguishable,
Like far-off mountains turned into clouds.
HERMIA. Methinks I see these things with parted eye,
When every thing seems double.
HELENA. So methinks;
And I have found Demetrius like a jewel,
Mine own, and not mine own.
DEMETRIUS. Are you sure
That we are awake? It seems to me
That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not you think
The Duke was here, and bid us follow him?
HERMIA. Yea, and my father.
HELENA. And Hippolyta.
LYSANDER. And he did bid us follow to the temple.
DEMETRIUS. Why, then, we are awake; let's follow him;
And by the way let us recount our dreams. Exeunt
BOTTOM. [Awaking] When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer. My
next is 'Most fair Pyramus.' Heigh-ho! Peter Quince! Flute, the
bellows-mender! Snout, the tinker! Starveling! God's my life,
stol'n hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most rare vision.
I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was.
Man is but an ass if he go about to expound this dream. Methought
I was- there is no man can tell what. Methought I was, and
methought I had, but man is but a patch'd fool, if he will offer
to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the
ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his
tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I
will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream. It shall
be call'd 'Bottom's Dream,' because it hath no bottom; and I will
sing it in the latter end of a play, before the Duke.
Peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at
her death. Exit
SCENE II.
Athens. QUINCE'S house
Enter QUINCE, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING
QUINCE. Have you sent to Bottom's house? Is he come home yet?
STARVELING. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt he is transported.
FLUTE. If he come not, then the play is marr'd; it goes not
forward, doth it?
QUINCE. It is not possible. You have not a man in all Athens able
to discharge Pyramus but he.
FLUTE. No; he hath simply the best wit of any handicraft man in
Athens.
QUINCE. Yea, and the best person too; and he is a very paramour for
a sweet voice.
FLUTE. You must say 'paragon.' A paramour is- God bless us!- A
thing of naught.
Enter SNUG
SNUG. Masters, the Duke is coming from the temple; and there is two
or three lords and ladies more married. If our sport had gone
forward, we had all been made men.
FLUTE. O sweet bully Bottom! Thus hath he lost sixpence a day
during his life; he could not have scaped sixpence a day. An the
Duke had not given him sixpence a day for playing Pyramus, I'll
be hanged. He would have deserved it: sixpence a day in Pyramus,
or nothing.
Enter BOTTOM
BOTTOM. Where are these lads? Where are these hearts?
QUINCE. Bottom! O most courageous day! O most happy hour!
BOTTOM. Masters, I am to discourse wonders; but ask me not what;
for if I tell you, I am not true Athenian. I will tell you
everything, right as it fell out.
QUINCE. Let us hear, sweet Bottom.
BOTTOM. Not a word of me. All that I will tell you is, that the
Duke hath dined. Get your apparel together; good strings to your
beards, new ribbons to your pumps; meet presently at the palace;
every man look o'er his part; for the short and the long is, our
play is preferr'd. In any case, let Thisby have clean linen; and
let not him that plays the lion pare his nails, for they shall
hang out for the lion's claws. And, most dear actors, eat no
onions nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I do not
doubt but to hear them say it is a sweet comedy. No more words.
Away, go, away! Exeunt
<>
ACT V. SCENE I.
Athens. The palace of THESEUS
Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, LORDS, and ATTENDANTS
HIPPOLYTA. 'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of.
THESEUS. More strange than true. I never may believe
These antique fables, nor these fairy toys.
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet,
Are of imagination all compact.
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold;
That is the madman. The lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt.
The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.
Such tricks hath strong imagination
That, if it would but apprehend some joy,
It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
Or in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush suppos'd a bear?
HIPPOLYTA. But all the story of the night told over,
And all their minds transfigur'd so together,
More witnesseth than fancy's images,
And grows to something of great constancy,
But howsoever strange and admirable.
Enter LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, and HELENA
THESEUS. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.
Joy, gentle friends, joy and fresh days of love
Accompany your hearts!
LYSANDER. More than to us
Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed!
THESEUS. Come now; what masques, what dances shall we have,
To wear away this long age of three hours
Between our after-supper and bed-time?
Where is our usual manager of mirth?
What revels are in hand? Is there no play
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?
Call Philostrate.
PHILOSTRATE. Here, mighty Theseus.
THESEUS. Say, what abridgment have you for this evening?
What masque? what music? How shall we beguile
The lazy time, if not with some delight?
PHILOSTRATE. There is a brief how many sports are ripe;
Make choice of which your Highness will see first.
[Giving a paper]
THESEUS. 'The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung
By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.'
We'll none of that: that have I told my love,
In glory of my kinsman Hercules.
'The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,
Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.'
That is an old device, and it was play'd
When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.
'The thrice three Muses mourning for the death
Of Learning, late deceas'd in beggary.'
That is some satire, keen and critical,
Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony.
'A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus
And his love Thisby; very tragical mirth.'
Merry and tragical! tedious and brief!
That is hot ice and wondrous strange snow.
How shall we find the concord of this discord?
PHILOSTRATE. A play there is, my lord, some ten words long,
Which is as brief as I have known a play;
But by ten words, my lord, it is too long,
Which makes it tedious; for in all the play
There is not one word apt, one player fitted.
And tragical, my noble lord, it is;
For Pyramus therein doth kill himself.
Which when I saw rehears'd, I must confess,
Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
The passion of loud laughter never shed.
THESEUS. What are they that do play it?
PHILOSTRATE. Hard-handed men that work in Athens here,
Which never labour'd in their minds till now;
And now have toil'd their unbreathed memories
With this same play against your nuptial.
THESEUS. And we will hear it.
PHILOSTRATE. No, my noble lord,
It is not for you. I have heard it over,
And it is nothing, nothing in the world;
Unless you can find sport in their intents,
Extremely stretch'd and conn'd with cruel pain,
To do you service.
THESEUS. I will hear that play;
For never anything can be amiss
When simpleness and duty tender it.
Go, bring them in; and take your places, ladies.
Exit PHILOSTRATE
HIPPOLYTA. I love not to see wretchedness o'er-charged,
And duty in his service perishing.
THESEUS. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.
HIPPOLYTA. He says they can do nothing in this kind.
THESEUS. The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing.
Our sport shall be to take what they mistake;
And what poor duty cannot do, noble respect
Takes it in might, not merit.
Where I have come, great clerks have purposed
To greet me with premeditated welcomes;
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale,
Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttle their practis'd accent in their fears,
And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off,
Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet,
Out of this silence yet I pick'd a welcome;
And in the modesty of fearful duty
I read as much as from the rattling tongue
Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity
In least speak most to my capacity.
Re-enter PHILOSTRATE
PHILOSTRATE. SO please your Grace, the Prologue is address'd.
THESEUS. Let him approach. [Flourish of trumpets]
Enter QUINCE as the PROLOGUE
PROLOGUE. If we offend, it is with our good will.
That you should think, we come not to offend,
But with good will. To show our simple skill,
That is the true beginning of our end.
Consider then, we come but in despite.
We do not come, as minding to content you,
Our true intent is. All for your delight
We are not here. That you should here repent you,
The actors are at band; and, by their show,
You shall know all, that you are like to know,
THESEUS. This fellow doth not stand upon points.
LYSANDER. He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he knows not
the stop. A good moral, my lord: it is not enough to speak, but
to speak true.
HIPPOLYTA. Indeed he hath play'd on this prologue like a child on a
recorder- a sound, but not in government.
THESEUS. His speech was like a tangled chain; nothing im paired,
but all disordered. Who is next?
Enter, with a trumpet before them, as in dumb show,
PYRAMUS and THISBY, WALL, MOONSHINE, and LION
PROLOGUE. Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show;
But wonder on, till truth make all things plain.
This man is Pyramus, if you would know;
This beauteous lady Thisby is certain.
This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present
Wall, that vile Wall which did these lovers sunder;
And through Walls chink, poor souls, they are content
To whisper. At the which let no man wonder.
This man, with lanthorn, dog, and bush of thorn,
Presenteth Moonshine; for, if you will know,
By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn
To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo.
This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name,
The trusty Thisby, coming first by night,
Did scare away, or rather did affright;
And as she fled, her mantle she did fall;
Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain.
Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall,
And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain;
Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful blade,
He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast;
And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade,
His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest,
Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain,
At large discourse while here they do remain.
Exeunt PROLOGUE, PYRAMUS, THISBY,
LION, and MOONSHINE
THESEUS. I wonder if the lion be to speak.
DEMETRIUS. No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when many asses do.
WALL. In this same interlude it doth befall
That I, one Snout by name, present a wall;
And such a wall as I would have you think
That had in it a crannied hole or chink,
Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby,
Did whisper often very secretly.
This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone, doth show
That I am that same wall; the truth is so;
And this the cranny is, right and sinister,
Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.
THESEUS. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?
DEMETRIUS. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard
discourse, my lord.
Enter PYRAMUS
THESEUS. Pyramus draws near the wall; silence.
PYRAMUS. O grim-look'd night! O night with hue so black!
O night, which ever art when day is not!
O night, O night, alack, alack, alack,
I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot!
And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall,
That stand'st between her father's ground and mine;
Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall,
Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne.
[WALL holds up his fingers]
Thanks, courteous wall. Jove shield thee well for this!
But what see what see I? No Thisby do I see.
O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss,
Curs'd he thy stones for thus deceiving me!
THESEUS. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again.
PYRAMUS. No, in truth, sir, he should not. Deceiving me is Thisby's
cue. She is to enter now, and I am to spy her through the wall.
You shall see it will fall pat as I told you; yonder she comes.
Enter THISBY
THISBY. O wall, full often hast thou beard my moans,
For parting my fair Pyramus and me!
My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones,
Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee.
PYRAMUS. I see a voice; now will I to the chink,
To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face.
Thisby!
THISBY. My love! thou art my love, I think.
PYRAMUS. Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace;
And like Limander am I trusty still.
THISBY. And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill.
PYRAMUS. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.
THISBY. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.
PYRAMUS. O, kiss me through the hole of this vile wall.
THISBY. I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all.
PYRAMUS. Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway?
THISBY. Tide life, tide death, I come without delay.
Exeunt PYRAMUS and THISBY
WALL. Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so;
And, being done, thus Wall away doth go. Exit WALL
THESEUS. Now is the moon used between the two neighbours.
DEMETRIUS. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear
without warning.
HIPPOLYTA. This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.
THESEUS. The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst are
no worse, if imagination amend them.
HIPPOLYTA. It must be your imagination then, and not theirs.
THESEUS. If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves,
they may pass for excellent men. Here come two noble beasts in, a
man and a lion.
Enter LION and MOONSHINE
LION. You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear
The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor,
May now, perchance, both quake and tremble here,
When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar.
Then know that I as Snug the joiner am
A lion fell, nor else no lion's dam;
For, if I should as lion come in strife
Into this place, 'twere pity on my life.
THESEUS. A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience.
DEMETRIUS. The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw.
LYSANDER. This lion is a very fox for his valour.
THESEUS. True; and a goose for his discretion.
DEMETRIUS. Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his
discretion, and the fox carries the goose.
THESEUS. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour; for
the goose carries not the fox. It is well. Leave it to his
discretion, and let us listen to the Moon.
MOONSHINE. This lanthorn doth the horned moon present-
DEMETRIUS. He should have worn the horns on his head.
THESEUS. He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the
circumference.
MOONSHINE. This lanthorn doth the horned moon present;
Myself the Man i' th' Moon do seem to be.
THESEUS. This is the greatest error of all the rest; the man should
be put into the lantern. How is it else the man i' th' moon?
DEMETRIUS. He dares not come there for the candle; for, you see, it
is already in snuff.
HIPPOLYTA. I am aweary of this moon. Would he would change!
THESEUS. It appears, by his small light of discretion, that he is
in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay
the time.
LYSANDER. Proceed, Moon.
MOON. All that I have to say is to tell you that the lanthorn is
the moon; I, the Man i' th' Moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush;
and this dog, my dog.
DEMETRIUS. Why, all these should be in the lantern; for all these
are in the moon. But silence; here comes Thisby.
Re-enter THISBY
THISBY. This is old Ninny's tomb. Where is my love?
LION. [Roaring] O- [THISBY runs off]
DEMETRIUS. Well roar'd, Lion.
THESEUS. Well run, Thisby.
HIPPOLYTA. Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon shines with a good
grace. [The LION tears THISBY'S Mantle, and exit]
THESEUS. Well mous'd, Lion.
Re-enter PYRAMUS
DEMETRIUS. And then came Pyramus.
LYSANDER. And so the lion vanish'd.
PYRAMUS. Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams;
I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright;
For, by thy gracious golden, glittering gleams,
I trust to take of truest Thisby sight.
But stay, O spite!
But mark, poor knight,
What dreadful dole is here!
Eyes, do you see?
How can it he?
O dainty duck! O dear!
Thy mantle good,
What! stain'd with blood?
Approach, ye Furies fell.
O Fates! come, come;
Cut thread and thrum;
Quail, crush, conclude, and quell.
THESEUS. This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go
near to make a man look sad.
HIPPOLYTA. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.
PYRAMUS. O wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame?
Since lion vile hath here deflower'd my dear;
Which is- no, no- which was the fairest dame
That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheer.
Come, tears, confound;
Out, sword, and wound
The pap of Pyramus;
Ay, that left pap,
Where heart doth hop. [Stabs himself]
Thus die I, thus, thus, thus.
Now am I dead,
Now am I fled;
My soul is in the sky.
Tongue, lose thy light;
Moon, take thy flight. [Exit MOONSHINE]
Now die, die, die, die, die. [Dies]
DEMETRIUS. No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one.
LYSANDER. Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing.
THESEUS. With the help of a surgeon he might yet recover and yet
prove an ass.
HIPPOLYTA. How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisby comes back
and finds her lover?
Re-enter THISBY
THESEUS. She will find him by starlight. Here she comes; and her
passion ends the play.
HIPPOLYTA. Methinks she should not use a long one for such a
Pyramus; I hope she will be brief.
DEMETRIUS. A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which
Thisby, is the better- he for a man, God warrant us: She for a
woman, God bless us!
LYSANDER. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes.
DEMETRIUS. And thus she moans, videlicet:-
THISBY. Asleep, my love?
What, dead, my dove?
O Pyramus, arise,
Speak, speak. Quite dumb?
Dead, dead? A tomb
Must cover thy sweet eyes.
These lily lips,
This cherry nose,
These yellow cowslip cheeks,
Are gone, are gone;
Lovers, make moan;
His eyes were green as leeks.
O Sisters Three,
Come, come to me,
With hands as pale as milk;
Lay them in gore,
Since you have shore
With shears his thread of silk.
Tongue, not a word.
Come, trusty sword;
Come, blade, my breast imbrue. [Stabs herself]
And farewell, friends;
Thus Thisby ends;
Adieu, adieu, adieu. [Dies]
THESEUS. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead.
DEMETRIUS. Ay, and Wall too.
BOTTOM. [Starting up] No, I assure you; the wall is down that
parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the Epilogue, or
to hear a Bergomask dance between two of our company?
THESEUS. No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse.
Never excuse; for when the players are all dead there need none
to be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it had played Pyramus, and
hang'd himself in Thisby's garter, it would have been a fine
tragedy. And so it is, truly; and very notably discharg'd. But
come, your Bergomask; let your epilogue alone. [A dance]
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve.
Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time.
I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn,
As much as we this night have overwatch'd.
This palpable-gross play hath well beguil'd
The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed.
A fortnight hold we this solemnity,
In nightly revels and new jollity. Exeunt
Enter PUCK with a broom
PUCK. Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task fordone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night
That the graves, all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,
In the church-way paths to glide.
And we fairies, that do run
By the triple Hecate's team
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic. Not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallowed house.
I am sent with broom before,
To sweep the dust behind the door.
Enter OBERON and TITANIA, with all their train
OBERON. Through the house give glimmering light,
By the dead and drowsy fire;
Every elf and fairy sprite
Hop as light as bird from brier;
And this ditty, after me,
Sing and dance it trippingly.
TITANIA. First, rehearse your song by rote,
To each word a warbling note;
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.
[OBERON leading, the FAIRIES sing and dance]
OBERON. Now, until the break of day,
Through this house each fairy stray.
To the best bride-bed will we,
Which by us shall blessed be;
And the issue there create
Ever shall be fortunate.
So shall all the couples three
Ever true in loving be;
And the blots of Nature's hand
Shall not in their issue stand;
Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar,
Nor mark prodigious, such as are
Despised in nativity,
Shall upon their children be.
With this field-dew consecrate,
Every fairy take his gait,
And each several chamber bless,
Through this palace, with sweet peace;
And the owner of it blest
Ever shall in safety rest.
Trip away; make no stay;
Meet me all by break of day. Exeunt all but PUCK
PUCK. If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumb'red here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend.
If you pardon, we will mend.
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call.
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends. Exit
THE END
<>
1599
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING
by William Shakespeare
Dramatis Personae
Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon.
Don John, his bastard brother.
Claudio, a young lord of Florence.
Benedick, a Young lord of Padua.
Leonato, Governor of Messina.
Antonio, an old man, his brother.
Balthasar, attendant on Don Pedro.
Borachio, follower of Don John.
Conrade, follower of Don John.
Friar Francis.
Dogberry, a Constable.
Verges, a Headborough.
A Sexton.
A Boy.
Hero, daughter to Leonato.
Beatrice, niece to Leonato.
Margaret, waiting gentlewoman attending on Hero.
Ursula, waiting gentlewoman attending on Hero.
Messengers, Watch, Attendants, etc.
<>
SCENE.--Messina.
ACT I. Scene I.
An orchard before Leonato's house.
Enter Leonato (Governor of Messina), Hero (his Daughter),
and Beatrice (his Niece), with a Messenger.
Leon. I learn in this letter that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this
night to Messina.
Mess. He is very near by this. He was not three leagues off when I
left him.
Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost in this action?
Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name.
Leon. A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings home full
numbers. I find here that Don Pedro hath bestowed much honour on
a young Florentine called Claudio.
Mess. Much deserv'd on his part, and equally rememb'red by Don
Pedro. He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age, doing
in the figure of a lamb the feats of a lion. He hath indeed
better bett'red expectation than you must expect of me to tell
you how.
Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it.
Mess. I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much
joy in him; even so much that joy could not show itself modest
enough without a badge of bitterness.
Leon. Did he break out into tears?
Mess. In great measure.
Leon. A kind overflow of kindness. There are no faces truer than
those that are so wash'd. How much better is it to weep at joy
than to joy at weeping!
Beat. I pray you, is Signior Mountanto return'd from the wars or no?
Mess. I know none of that name, lady. There was none such in the
army of any sort.
Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece?
Hero. My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua.
Mess. O, he's return'd, and as pleasant as ever he was.
Beat. He set up his bills here in Messina and challeng'd Cupid at
the flight, and my uncle's fool, reading the challenge,
subscrib'd for Cupid and challeng'd him at the burbolt. I pray
you, how many hath he kill'd and eaten in these wars? But how
many hath he kill'd? For indeed I promised to eat all of his
killing.
Leon. Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much; but he'll
be meet with you, I doubt it not.
Mess. He hath done good service, lady, in these wars.
Beat. You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it. He is a
very valiant trencherman; he hath an excellent stomach.
Mess. And a good soldier too, lady.
Beat. And a good soldier to a lady; but what is he to a lord?
Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuff'd with all honourable
virtues.
Beat. It is so indeed. He is no less than a stuff'd man; but for
the stuffing--well, we are all mortal.
Leon. You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is a kind of merry
war betwixt Signior Benedick and her. They never meet but there's
a skirmish of wit between them.
Beat. Alas, he gets nothing by that! In our last conflict four of
his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man govern'd
with one; so that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let
him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse; for
it is all the wealth that he hath left to be known a reasonable
creature. Who is his companion now? He hath every month a new
sworn brother.
Mess. Is't possible?
Beat. Very easily possible. He wears his faith but as the fashion
of his hat; it ever changes with the next block.
Mess. I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books.
Beat. No. An he were, I would burn my study. But I pray you, who is
his companion? Is there no young squarer now that will make a
voyage with him to the devil?
Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio.
Beat. O Lord, he will hang upon him like a disease! He is sooner
caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God
help the noble Claudio! If he have caught the Benedick, it will
cost him a thousand pound ere 'a be cured.
Mess. I will hold friends with you, lady.
Beat. Do, good friend.
Leon. You will never run mad, niece.
Beat. No, not till a hot January.
Mess. Don Pedro is approach'd.
